Chapter Eight: An Unfortunate Turn of Events
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe; that honor belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I thank them for the inspiration, however. Also, this story contains sexual and other adult themes, hence the M rating.
The following morning Ophelia did not want to get out of bed. She had not slept well the night before and having Snape's arms pulling her close seemed to give her comfort from the vivid dark dreams she had awoken from. She felt as though someone had been whispering dark, dreadful secrets into her ear all night long.
"Is something wrong?" She heard the sleepy, velvety voice in her ear. "You seemed restless all night. And your skin is ice cold…"
"Terrible dreams is all," she nuzzled her body closer to him as she felt him stroke her abdomen softly. "Are you ready to begin this day or can I convince you to lie here a little longer?"
"No convincing necessary." She felt his lips on her shoulder followed by his teeth.
Ophelia closed her eyes again and tried to fall back asleep. It was a lost cause, however, as her thoughts were heavy with darkness. She sighed in frustration.
She turned to face Snape. Her body ached with lust, and if she got her way, the potion master would soon be feeling the same. Her hands began a journey across her partner's body as her lips teased his.
"Have you always been so insatiable, Miss Dyson?"
"I blame you," she smiled as she maneuvered him into her body. "Mmmmm, yes." It was true that she had felt an increased sexual energy recently, but she had never had a partner such as the one inside her now. She just could not get enough of him; so safe and so dangerous all at once. They kissed as she continued to move her hips against his. Neither lasted long, and they soon lay side by side staring at the ceiling as their chests heaved.
She tilted her head to look at him and smiled. This whole situation mildly amused her. He raised an eyebrow in response. "It's nothing…" she mumbled, but he continued to stare at her. "It's just that I think I am enjoying you more than I should."
He nodded. "It is rather peculiar." She read from his dry tone that he may have misinterpreted her words to mean he did not deserve her attentions.
"I don't mean it like that. I mean quite the inverse in fact."
"Don't be absurd, Miss Dyson. I am grateful that you see fit to allow me such pleasures."
She laughed. "Allow you? More like force upon you!"
"That is open to interpretation, I suppose." He let out a small sound of amusement that bordered on an abridged laughed.
Finally they reluctantly pulled themselves from the refuge of the bed and started the day. Edlyn prepared them a delicious brunch which they enjoyed as Snape explained how to commence her training.
"We will begin with the basics. It will be a task of simple identification. I will provide various unknown magics, and you will sense their purpose. Do you understand?"
"I think so?" She nodded her head but really had no idea what he wanted from her.
"Then let's begin. Tell me, where are the charms located in this room?" His voice naturally slipped into the one she had been all too familiar with the last time she had been in the role of student. She gave him a look of annoyance, but he seemed unfazed.
She looked around the room slowly and then closed her eyes. At first she felt nothing more than the general hum of energy that she always sensed, but she forced herself to concentrate. Still, she felt nothing specific. She frowned. "I feel magic all around me…"
"Naturally – this is the home of a wizard. But what magic?" His voice regained its old sardonic edge. "Ignore everything but the magic."
She sat quietly, struggling to tune out everything else, but the powers radiating in the room. Eventually, areas of the room began to hum louder than others. She continued to focus. "The pantry door contains several wards, as do the windows…"
"And?"
She sighed as she refocused. "The teapot is charmed…and the broom in the corner…"
"Yes." He replied simply without a tone of either praise or punishment. He then went to a cupboard and pulled out several vials. He spread them on the table in front of her. They were unlabeled. "Tell me which potions are contained in these vials."
His eyes bore in to her as if trying to see the inner workings of her mind as she contemplated the vials. Again, her original feelings gave her little information. She pushed further, trying to get any additional sense. She could still feel his dark eyes on her.
"Stop staring!" She demanded, and he looked away from her obediently. "Thank you," she added quietly. She refocused yet again. The answer still wasn't revealing itself to her. She stared at the vials filled with differently colored potions. "The red one is deadly," she blurted out as the thought occurred to her, seemingly out of nowhere.
Snape nodded.
She realized she sensed nothing from the center vial. "The clear one is distilled water?"
He nodded again.
"The last is a healing draught," she stated confidently.
"Ah, there may be hope for you after all."
"You mean you had doubts?" She laughed.
He raised an eyebrow, just a hint of amusement on his face. "Doubt is an understatement. Trusting the talents of a student is not something I make a habit of."
She shook her head. "Have you always been so cynical, Professor?"
"Yes."
And so their days continued rather tediously for over three weeks. Snape devised new tests for her and filled her evenings with readings from the various unique texts in his private collection. With each passing day she became more acute with her abilities and soon he was unable to stump her with any potion, or spell. Even his unspoken magic was no longer a mystery to her, and she even began to predict his spells before he cast them which seemed to make her instructor a bit uneasy. She knew every protection spell on almost every aspect of Spinner's End, even those cast years ago. Through it all, Ophelia felt the sense of a watchful, unseen eye which she struggled to push from her thoughts.
When it came to the Dark Lord's notes, however, her honed ability was still relatively useless. She could sense a strong dark energy emanating from the text. She had flipped through its pages a thousand times at least looking for a weakness. She knew it was fireproof, tear-proof, waterproof, dragon-proof, acid-proof, and shielded from hexes. Inexplicably, she sensed no counter-curses or hexes on the book.
Recently, Ophelia had taken to carrying the book in her satchel on her at most times; this habit troubled Snape, and he made that fact clear. Each passing day proved to be more frustrating than the last when it came to unraveling the secret of the book's Achilles' heel. There had to be something she was missing.
Their nights were filled with feverish kisses, sounds of pleasure, and sweaty bodies. They never grew bored of each other's touch as they both made up for lost time lacking such physical comforts. However, when sleep finally did come Ophelia continued to be plagued by dark, frightening dreams. She soon looked forward to each morning, when they would lie in bed together, and she would feel safe tucked in his arms while he spoke of whatever was on his mind at the time; these were the occasions when she had the pleasure of witnessing the true Severus Snape.
Then it happened…
It had been a particularly passionate sex session, one that had crossed that line from simple intercourse to border true lovemaking. As Snape's body tensed above her, and he made sounds of pleasure into her ear, his face twisted, she felt his magic suddenly course through her body. It was almost painful as she was consumed by it. She felt the intense realization of everything that was Snape's power; his experiences; his entire essence.
She pushed him from her with an overwhelmed gasp. He stared at her, confusion plastered on his features. Ophelia took several long, deep breaths as she contemplated what had occurred. It settled onto her all at once. Almost instantaneously she had complete consciousness of the man entangled in the green silk bed sheets beside her. Very little of her new-found insight surprised her, however. She had guessed his life had been riddled with personal tragedy and disappointments that led him to become the man that he was.
It was the lovely red-head that haunted his thoughts that overwhelmed her now. She had suspected a painful history of unrequited love to explain his inexperience with intimacy, but the details were almost poetic as she was filled with the love he had felt; still felt. She fought back a twinge of jealousy. "Oh, Severus…" she whispered as a tear escaped down her cheek as he continued to stare at her, now with suspicion. Because of what had just occurred, she knew this moment was something Snape was dreading dearly.
"I'm so sorry… I did not mean it… it just sort of happened… I'm sorry…" she repeated herself many times as the look on her lover's face turned from confusion, to understanding, to horror, and finally to rage.
She reached out to touch him, but he withdrew from her fingers as if wounded. His eyes were gleaming as he stepped out of the bed and pulled on his robes. As she moved to follow him his stare warned her to do otherwise, so she watched as he dressed and left the room, robes billowing behind him.
As the door slammed loudly, Ophelia flinched and let her emotions wash over her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she was overtaken with guilt. Then she dried her eyes and attempted to rest. Sleep did not arrive for her that night as she waited and desperately prayed that Snape would return to the bedroom to accept her apology.
Several painstaking hours passed, and she could endure the torture no more. Where had he gone? Would he ever return? Would he ever forgive her? This unfortunate event was, after all, what he had been training her to accomplish. Shouldn't they be celebrating? "Go to him," a soft, strangely familiar voice whispered in the back of her mind. "You need him…"
She climbed out of the bed and pulled on her robes and slippers. Then she quietly crept down the hidden staircase. She found him draped across one of the time-worn chairs in his sitting room, nursing a drink as he stared blankly out the main window into the dark night. She stepped cautiously into the room. "Sir?"
"Leave me, Miss Dyson!" He did not even glance at her, but his tone was venomous, and it stung her deeply.
"Please, Professor, I…" she took a step closer. He stood suddenly, and his arm raised as if the strike her with a backhand.
She cringed but did not cower from his impending strike. She would not give him that pleasure. "Go ahead," her eyes burned with challenge. She could feel the emotions behind his dark eyes.
He lowered his hand and reached for his drink which he finished in one large swallow. "Do not assume I am not capable of it, Miss Dyson. We are all products of our upbringing." His eyes dimmed momentarily as if lost in thought.
"But we are not our fathers," she whispered. These words were as much for her as they were for him. She thought about how easily the Death Eater label had corrupted her father, and how she now was in the midst of the same dark temptations.
He moved closer to her suddenly, towering above her in an intimidating stance. "Leave Dammit! I do not wish your pity!"
She backed away from him then as emotion built within her. "You think yourself deserving of pity?!" She laughed out of disgust as she moved towards the kitchen. She heard his glass shatter and felt him grip her wrist tightly, pulling her back towards him forcefully almost stealing the breath from her lungs. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. He reeked of alcohol, and his jaw was clenched tightly.
"I feel no more pity for you, Severus Snape, than you feel for yourself. You brought most of it on yourself!" She pulled away from him violently. The red marks indicating future bruises were evident on her wrist. She rubbed the tender flesh with her opposite hand.
She met his cold gaze. His energy was swelling within him. She was glad his wand was tucked away in his robes. His eyes narrowed as he studied her with intensity. The moment seemed to last forever, and she longed to know his exact thoughts as they stared silently.
"What then, if not pity?" His eyes were still consumed with anger, and she was frightened of what he may do at any moment.
She reached her hand out to touch him, but he withdrew. "Empathy…awe…respect." Her eyes swelled with tears.
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Snape hissed in disgust as he turned from her. He no longer wished for her to be in his presence. Her tears sickened him. She was no longer safe; she knew too much of him. And yet, he believed her when she denied pity for him which was only further proof that she knew him all too well. He did not deserve pity. Pity was for the innocent and that he was not. She understood this fact when no one else seemed to. Dumbledore had given him pity, as had Lily.
He listened to her soft steps as she left the room. He released a long sigh, but it did not bring any relief. He was cursing himself for letting the young witch so close in the first place. He had known this day would come as soon as he had learned of her ability. He should have taken the book, left her captive, and avoided all of this.
He sat back in the chair and ordered Edlyn to bring him another drink. He gulped it down and savored the sweet burn in the back of his throat and the fire in the pit of his stomach. He did the same to two additional glasses. He welcomed the numbness that soon followed.
He stared blankly at the flames in the fireplace for what seemed like an eternity. Her words were still echoing in his thoughts. Was it possible for someone to truly respect him knowing what she knew of him? He was skeptical but also didn't feel that she would lie to him. How much further would she have had to push him before he would have given in to his violent nature and struck her? How would she have reacted to such a gesture? Would she blame him, as she should, or herself, as his mother had done each time she took a hit from his father? He downed another glass of alcohol to drown his aching conscious.
Snape did not sleep that night but instead passed out from intoxication draped across the chair. He awoke several hours later. His head throbbed in rhythm with his guilt. He stepped up the staircase quietly and then towards his bedroom where he stopped in the doorway. He saw Ophelia asleep beneath his silk sheets. At first she seemed peaceful, but as he watched he soon discovered that she was mumbling in her sleep as she did most nights lately.
Part of him wanted to apologize to her, but his uncertainty won out. She would be unlikely to offer forgiveness anyway as his behavior had been unforgivable even in his own eyes. He had once again failed to maintain control of himself. She would be right never to speak to him again.
He left her then and set up residence on the couch in the sitting room. He slept very little. The rising sun came as a bittersweet relief as he realized there would be none of the early morning "pillow-talk" he had become accustom to.
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The next morning a strange owl appeared outside the kitchen window. Ophelia sensed Snape's suspicion and curiosity as he allowed the bird to enter and drop of its parcel before quickly leaving the way it had come. His eyes widened as he read the letter and his posture stiffened suddenly.
He then stood. "I must go." He glanced around the kitchen. "Your assignment for the day is to discover which wards are on that pantry door," he gestured to the door beside the stove. "Lower them, and gain knowledge of what secrets lie within. I promise some difficulty with this one. Some very rare, powerful potions should prove an interesting challenge." His voice was cold. He seemed not to have forgotten his anger from the previous night.
She nodded, a bit shocked by the abrupt turn they day had taken. She watched as he quickly moved into the sitting room and left out the front door. "Be safe," she called after as she watched from the threshold. Once near the cobblestone street and disapparated without a word or even a glance in her direction. Her heart ached. She glanced at the dark bruising around her wrist. He had yet to forgive her for last night, and she had a bad feeling about this…
Snape had been gone many hours and Ophelia had long since finished the tasks he had assigned to her. The challenge had been less than expected. The pantry cupboard had been the one place she had yet to explore, but the spells were easily revealed and almost as easily undone.
She was about to flip through another of the Professor's many Potions texts looking for information about the potions she had found within Snape's supply when the sounds of screaming entered the sitting room from the street. She quickly ran to the window to determine the source of the sound. In front of the house a woman was screaming desperately as a cloaked figure approached her.
Ophelia could sense the woman was Muggle, and the cloaked figure was a wizard, probably a Death Eater judging by the sense of corruption she felt from the man. She did not recognize either of them, but she knew she must help the woman before she was killed.
"Do not fear him. You are much more powerful than he," the strange voice whispered to her. Despite trying to ignore it, she found herself agreeing instead. She had learned so much in the last few weeks, and even though this voice in her mind made her feel crazy, it also made her feel invincible. That wizard had nothing on her since she had gained control of her ability, not to mention she had been privy to dark magic that few others knew of. This is just another practice test. A further stretch of my skills…
The cloaked wizard had to be stopped. She unlocked the door and then stepped on to the stoop. "Do it!" the dark voice encouraged, and she felt a surge of power inside of her as she raised her wand.
"Confringo!" She shouted and aimed her wand near the feet of the wizard. She laughed as the cobblestone blasted into pieces, and the wizard glanced around in confusion. As she was beginning to sense a deeper reaction the man suddenly disapparated with a loud "pop." She smiled to herself as she bubbled with pride. Then she remembered about the Muggle woman and rushed to her side. "Are you alight?"
The woman's eyes were wide with fear, and she did not answer.
"Don't be afraid. I will not hurt you. Are you hurt?" She looked the woman over quickly. The woman shook her head and then started to cry.
"Can you tell me what happened? Why was that man after you?"
The woman continued to cry and did not respond to her questions. Ophelia waited patiently for the woman to calm a little. "We should get out of the street." She extended a hand to the woman, and she grasped it. They moved to the small grass lawn in front of Spinner's End. "Are you sure everything is okay?"
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but instead her eyes widened, and she let out another scream. Ophelia detected the arrival of the two wizards, but it was too late. The gut wrenching pain hit her like a lightening bolt from behind. As Ophelia squirmed helplessly in the grass one of the men grabbed the Muggle woman and quickly disappeared.
Ophelia turned to face her attacker, but felt her wand fly from her grasp as she locked eyes with Lucius Malfoy. "How could you have let your guard down you stupid girl?!" The mysterious voice sneered in her head as the pain subsided. "You will ruin everything if you are not careful…"
"We meet again, Miss Dyson," Lucius declared as he approached her. "I knew you would not be able to resist the cries of innocent suffering. So predictable." He smiled as he came to a stop just out of her grasp. His wand was still aimed at her chest. "And Severus, I can't believe he was so easily conned into leaving you here alone."
Ophelia held back a gasp as she was suddenly filled with worry for her teacher and lover. What had they done to him?
"Oh, do not worry. He is fine. Just chasing shadows of this past is all." He smiled at her. "Now allow me to continue what we started weeks ago."
Ophelia knew he was preparing the Cruciatus curse for her. She braced herself as she felt the power building within him. Then she visualized Lucius's spell hitting her as nothing more than a static shock, and to her surprise the searing pain she was expecting never came. Instead, she felt the energy dissipate around her. She smiled. Her lessons were effective.
Lucius let a moment of confusion cross his face as he waved the wand again. "Cruciatus!"
She was not so lucky the second time, and the pain passed through her, although less powerful than the last curse that had hit her. She collapsed on to the grass. She closed her eyes tightly trying to devise a plan for escape as the voice inside her mocked her stupidity. "I know. I know," she whispered back through clenched teeth. "But how can I undo this?"
"Give it up, Miss Dyson. Your precious potions professor will not save you this time," Lucius smiled wickedly as he watched her squirm under his curse. "How much longer are you going to fight?"
Ophelia glared as defiantly as she could muster through her pain. She attempted to distract herself by getting a read on Lucius. Her probes barely skimmed the surface, however, and all she felt was raw, uninhibited power and a twisted sense of pleasure at seeing her suffer.
The pain stopped. "Give me the book!" He motioned his wand towards her satchel.
"Give it to him," the haunting voice pounded inside her thoughts and she felt the chill over her grow stronger. She tried again to ignore it, feeling crazier than ever. "You know he cannot reveal the secrets. Only you have that power now." The voice was correct. She knew the book would only yield to her, but she did not want to part with it.
"I am losing my patience, Dear." He raised his wand to strike her again and she knew he was going to cast Imperio. She refused to allow him to bend her will by force.
"Okay, okay. I will give." She yelled as she scrambled for her satchel. She produced the cursed grimoire and the blonde wizard snatched it from her hand.
"Call your wand," the voice commanded, and her eyes darted around the yard. There is was, about five meters away lying in the grass. Then she looked at Lucius. His greedy hands were flipping through the pages as he issued commands for it to reveal its secrets. She could feel his growing annoyance, and it pleased her.
ACCIO WAND! She shouted in her head and to her surprise the wand launched into her hand. She hid it quickly in her robes just as Lucius turned to face her again.
"Tell me the secret." His eyes blazed with frustration, and she knew he would kill her at any moment.
"There is no secret. I have not read them."
Lucius's eyes narrowed. "You are lying."
"Yes, I am!" Ophelia grinned wickedly as she drew her wand from her robes. She was pleased by the flash of fear in her tormentor's eyes.
"Fiendfyre," shouted the voice in her ear, and without thinking Ophelia raised her wand and repeated the curse. A dark power rushed through her, and it was exhilarating. A fiery blue phoenix spilled forth from her wand. As she commanded the deadly bird she felt a chilling grip around her wrist as though something was guiding her movements.
"Feel the Dark Power," she heard softly. "See how he fears you now." It felt amazing as she watched the flames dance treacherously in front of her.
Lucius hurled himself backwards and ran. She quickly picked herself up off the ground and ran towards the house. Her blazing bird chased him momentarily until she called off the deadly flames. She turned back towards Lucius as she sensed him readying another spell. "Expelliarmis!" Her aim was true and the Death Eater's wand flew from his grasp.
She ran with all her power back through the front door of Spinner's End and slammed the door behind her. She felt the wards reactivate. She aimed her wand at the door. "Protego Horriblis," she whispered between ragged breaths. She drew the protection rune and then collapsed into one of the aged chairs and panted, wand pointed at the door.
She stared anxiously ahead, heart racing as she felt fresh tears swell in her eyes. She had used one of the dark spells that she swore never to utter. Her conscious was aching. How could she as a healer have wished such terrible things on another, even if it were Lucius Malfoy? She had just barely managed to resist the temptation of allowing the cursed flames to destroy him.
"Power comes with a price," the voice hissed as she was hit with an intense wave of nausea. She ran to the bathroom and cried some more as she released her stomach contents in to the toilet. "Now, now, you will get use to it." Ophelia gasped in shock and was overtaken with another intense vomiting spell.
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A/N: This is my favorite chapter. How about you? Thank you for the feedback.