Author's Note:
Well, I was beginning to think this day would never come. Chapter 25…finally! Many, many thanks—SO many!--
to all of you who kept me going with your notes and encouragement. They really got me through it. You know who you are.
Enjoy!
Chapter
25: Hunger Hurts
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
--Fiona Apple
Slip sliding away,
Slip sliding away
You know the nearer your destination,
the more you're slip sliding away
--Paul Simon
Breakfast was not a pretty sight.
If the students had been paying any attention, one glance at the Staff Table
would have dispelled the appetites of those unfortunate enough to have the
double whammy of Defense and Potions that day, and may even have prompted a
bout of incontinence among those of weaker constitutions. Judging from the appearance of Professors
Snape and Mayhem, even being stuck inside Madame Trelawney's dim, cloying tower
on such a fine day would be preferable to their classrooms.
Addy hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, and it
had finally caught up with her. Her
leaden eyelids drooped over a fierce, red-rimmed glower, and her hair looked as
though it had not just a mind of its own, but one with a Multiple Personality
Disorder. But what really blackened her
mood were the vague, foreboding remnants of her nightmare, fluttering like
nasty moths just beyond her realm of recollection but close enough to leave her
preoccupied and cranky all day.
Snape was no better off, though his outward appearance, aside from his bandaged
hand and a particularly toxic scowl, was not much changed. On the inside, however, he felt like a
shipwreck. The cut from the glass was
deep and perfectly centered on his right palm, interfering with just about
anything he tried to do. The hands of a Potioner were his Achille's Heel,
and the constant reminders of this self-inflicted damage drove his temper
steadily towards its boiling point.
On top of that, every muscle in his body—and particularly his back and neck--ached
from the night spent in a hard chair.
His joints, strained and worn over the years from too many
confrontations with Voldemort's Cruciatus, complained
with even the tiniest of movements, expressing their displeasure in a
nauseating series of pops and cracks. The sounds grated on Addy as though
they were hammering directly on her already frazzled nerve endings.
Finally, she could take it no longer and turned her head slowly to face him
with a look that could freeze mercury.
Snape responded with a slow, defiant, full neck roll that sounded like a
21-gun salute. Nostrils flaring, Addy turned back to her porridge,
peevishly scooping up spoonfuls and overturning them so that her breakfast fell
back into its bowl with an unceremonious plop.
Although her curious mind wandered persistently to thoughts of his achy joints and that
bandage around his hand, (how on earth had he managed that in the time since
she'd last seen him?), she would not let herself inquire about it. 'The more you know about him, the more you
care for him,' came the Voice inside her head. 'And since you can not have him, you need to
stop caring.' Addy questioned the practical
logic of the Voice, but had to admit that she felt positively shredded by her
desire for Snape. Perhaps a little
distance would help quell the ache.
But nobody was paying any attention to Professors Snape or Mayhem. The fresh, morning air had animated the
student body with the promise of Autumn: spicy pies whose aromas wafted by on blustery
breezes...leaves crunching underfoot and the taste of snow in the air...kisses
stolen beneath a Harvest Moon. And, of course, Quidditch.
The Great Hall hummed like one great organism, as students hotly debated the
relative merits of the latest broom models, discussed new maneuvers they had
mastered over the summer, and regaled one another with stories of the stunning
victories and crushing defeats they'd witnessed at summer games. Ron Weasley toppled
a pitcher of milk as he reenacted Chudley Cannon
moves for Harry, Hermione, and Neville, who had not had the opportunity to
attend any Quidditch games that summer.
And, with the first school practice sessions starting that evening,
every student had suddenly developed Centaurian
powers of prediction as to which house would take the Cup that year. Even the other staff members seemed to be
engulfed in game talk, and utterly oblivious to the sufferings of the two
clandestine spies at their table.
*******************************
By dinnertime, Addy had to congratulate herself on somehow making it through
all her classes without scarring any students, either physically or
psychologically. It had been gruelingly
tedious to try to keep her mind on lessons, when all she could think about was
the bold, silken muscle of Snape's tongue, and the tantalizing pulse she'd felt
between her thighs when she'd wrapped her legs around him. At one point during the day, a meek call of
"Professor?" had snapped her out of a distracted trance which had her
staring out the window at the pale set of sun-dappled tentacles lolling about
on the surface of the lake, embarrassingly oblivious to her classroom full of
Third Years.
Dinner represented the third tension-riddled meal of the day. It was impossible
to ignore the erotic scent of him next to her, which once again banished her
appetite for food and replaced it with a driving, carnal hunger. Addy resolved to talk to Dumbledore about
changing her seating arrangements or she would certainly starve to death. She
really didn't see how she could take much more of the torture of his nearness,
wanting nothing more than to rake her nails up the length of his thigh, the strength
of which she'd had such a brief, exasperating taste.
The evening meal seemed to last at least five or six hours, with the food on
her plate somehow increasing despite her efforts at eating. 'Just be glad they're not serving truffles
for dessert,' she thought, shifting in her seat as moisture sprang between her
legs at the recollection of the previous night.
She had survived a lifetime in the treacherous environs of Voldemort's
inner circle, an escape that took her across three continents and over two
mountain ranges, ten years of poverty scraping together sustenance in the
Indian countryside, followed by two years as a captive in her own home. But THIS, she thought, would surely do her
in.
As she poked sullenly at her dessert, a wisp of memory floated through her head carrying the jagged, broken
sound of Snape's voice as he had sent her away the previous night: "Addy.
Please. Just. Go." Stealing a momentary glance to her
right, she noticed him compulsively swirling his goblet around, staring into it. The hardened clench of her jaw softened as
she realized that he must be feeling just as miserable as she. For a split second she thought about placing
a subtle, comforting hand on his knee, under the table and out of sight from
the students.
When she realized what she'd been thinking, she dropped her fork with a clang,
and rubbed her face, as though she might erase the thoughts from her mind. 'Stop it!
Stop caring!' she screamed silently at herself, as she
picked up her fork and renewed her attack on the lemon tart, doggedly shoving
great gobs of it into her mouth.
Finally, she was back in her rooms, gathering up her notes for the last—and
greatest—challenge of the day: her
nightly strategy session with Snape. In
the wake of their intelligence run to the Kings Cross Underground platform,
there was no need to question the continuation of their work. The visit, its aftermath, and their ensuing
nightmares had indelibly impressed upon the thwarted lovers the absolute
necessity of their mission. Snape and
Addy burned—each in their own way—with a desire for vengeance, a bloodlust for
Voldemort's demise, and the trembling hope of freedom.
However, actually bringing herself to knock on the door of his office was
another matter entirely. She had now
been standing there in the dank dungeon corridor, her
notes squished under one sweaty armpit, for several minutes. Each time she raised her fist to knock, her hand would somehow take a detour to indulge in
one of several nervous habits: twirling
her hair, rubbing her face, tapping her pursed lips.
'This is ridiculous, Adelaide,
just do it!' She raised her hand for the
fourth time, with a firm determination to actually knock. But before she had the chance, the door
creaked slowly open. Snape was standing
at the far end of the room, arms crossed and held away from his body to form a
shield of draping black cloth.
"How long were you planning on lurking outside my door like a First-Year
late for detention?" he asked. His voice rippled with derision, but Addy
thought she saw a shadow of empathy behind his cold mask as his eyes digested
her miserable appearance.
"Let's get to work," came Addy's terse reply
as she avoided making eye contact.
Which was also easier said than done.
Addy tried not to think about the previous night: the champagne, the candles, the shine of his
raven-black hair…his heated breath on the palm of her hand, on the arc of her
neck, down her breastbone…how it had felt to be enveloped in his arms and his
essence, grabbing, kissing and nuzzling him as they moved together in syncopated
anticipation…
Meanwhile, Snape tried not to think about the unbearable softness of her lips
as they grazed his…how achingly beautiful she'd looked in that black dress with
the low cut neckline…the blissful glimpse of her milky white breasts in the
light of the full moon…the tautness of her calves…the strength of her thighs as
she had wrapped them around him…the luscious flesh of her buttocks cupped in
his hands…and especially the wild, carnal look in her eyes when she had
whispered, "Snape…I need you."
Yes, they tried and tried not to think about any of that. But it wasn't easy, when just about
everything in the room triggered some lustful memory. Yet somehow they made it through their
session, and the next evening's session, and the one after that, dancing and
tiptoeing and skirting and stumbling around any direct reference to their
simmering feelings for one another.
Mostly, they argued. They argued about
how Pugh would enter the Underground, whether or not he'd go straight to the
bin to deposit his package, how he would attempt to exit, how many aurors were needed and where they ought to be positioned,
what methods they should use to disarm and detain him, how they would get Pugh
out of there, how many Muggles might be there and
what to do about them. They even argued
about what to discuss first, what to discuss next, and when to stop—in other
words, they argued about what to argue about.
But their smothered passion needed some sort of release, and by the time
the weekend arrived, they were nearly spent with the effort of all that bloody
arguing.
They met Saturday evening for their final session before the next meeting of
the Order, at which they were to give a report to the other members on their
plans for the "Underground Project." As
it was her first chance to prove herself in front of her colleagues, Addy was keen
to make a good impression, and had been hard at work all day preparing charts,
maps, lists, and other documentation, some of which employed complicated
spells. Nearly everyone else was
enjoying the beautiful fall weather outdoors, including the teams practicing
for the big upcoming Quidditch match, but she was oblivious to the playful
laughter that drifted through her open window.
Only one other soul had remained sequestered all day, down in the
dungeon laboratory, working on an antidote to Voldemorte's Snakebite poison.
Snape had not wanted to leave his quietly bubbling cauldron—that bastion of cool,
reliable metal, precisely calculated ingredients, and chemical reactions that
were, to a Master, as predictable as the movement of the planets—especially not
for the torturously hopeless allure of Addy's company. But she was so adamant that he grudgingly
agreed to a run-through of their already impeccable presentation. He sneered and wisecracked his way through it,
but had to admit to himself in the end that he was not only impressed, but also
moved. Her dedication, determination,
and obvious desire for approval were nearly painful to witness.
It was close to midnight when Snape turned back to his work on the Antidote,
while Addy paced to and fro behind him, trying to think of something they had
forgotten. Finally, she ran out of
things to fuss over. She gathered up her
model of the Underground—with its enchanted, moving pieces—mumbling to herself about the final details of their preparation.
As she ruminated, Snape eagerly looked forward to preparing the newest
ingredient for his Snakebite Antidote—crushed ruby. This was a sudden inspiration he'd had when the
recipe he'd been working on had proved too unstable to even attempt bottling,
much less drinking. He knew he was close
to the answer…very close. He kept a
small store of precious and semi-precious stones in his private collection of
potions ingredients, and his hope was that the ruby would not only contribute
its protective properties to the mixture, but would also stabilize it so that
it could be tested.
As he ground the sparkling crimson dust in an old mortar and pestle, he heard
Addy say to herself, "So, I just need to make eight copies of everything that's
to be distributed to the group tomorrow—"
"Eight's not enough," Snape interjected without looking up. "Tomorrow will be a full meeting of the
Order."
"A full meeting?" Addy questioned, her pacing suddenly
stopped in its tracks. "What do you mean
a full meeting? I thought the last
meeting was a full meeting."
"That was just an ad hoc meeting, brought about by your rather abrupt arrival,"
he replied, tapping the pestle gently on the side of the mortar to release the
last bits of powdered gemstone that clung to it. "Tomorrow evening will be a regularly
scheduled meeting of the Order…with full attendance."
Addy stared at his back, heartened to hear there were more. In fact now that she
thought about it, she hoped there were many more. And although a flock of butterflies had just
started up the old Stomach Mambo at the prospect of getting up in front of a
whole new set of strangers, she was glad to know that their tiny army was,
well, not quite so tiny. "Well, who else
is in the Order? How many are there? Will they all be there? Will we all fit into the same room as the
last meeting???" she asked, entertaining visions of a mighty throng of witches
and wizards rallying behind Dumbledore to defeat Voldemort.
Snape bent over his cauldron with keen interest as he added the tiniest dash of
the freshly macerated powder with a flat, mother-of-pearl scoop. His brew fizzled initially at the introduction
of the new ingredient, causing a moment of brow-furrowing concern. But as he stirred in the ruby, the potion
seemed to accept the additive, taking on the color of the stone. This was a good sign.
He stirred and watched his potion as he responded to Addy, "Well, let's see…Mundungus Fletcher should be there. He's a petty criminal, but his skills do come
in handy from time to time. And the Weasleys—Arthur, Molly, and
their elder son Bill."
"Ron's family?"
"Well, part of it, anyway. Those Weasley's are prolific breeders,
no doubt about that. But, despite their loathsome
Gryffindor qualities, I can not deny their loyalty to Albus and the Order. Then there's Moody and his team of Aurors—Shacklebolt will be there tomorrow. And Tonks too so you'd better—"
"Moody?" Addy shrieked,
cutting him short.
Snape had been stirring his potion with guarded excitement. However, the weird, high-pitched yelp that had
come from behind him sounded so foreign, it drew his attention abruptly from
his now ruby-colored concoction. He
looked back over his shoulder just in time to see an ashen-faced Adelaide grip the table
and sink into a chair, nearly missing it.
"Adelaide?"
Muttering something to herself, she looked up at him with despairing disbelief,
and croaked, "Moody?"
"Yes, Mad-Eye Moody."
"Mad-Eye Moody," she repeated, as though the sounds emanating from
her mouth were all new to her.
"Well, Alistor, really."
"Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody?" she said
slowly, her face draining to an even sicklier shade of grey.
"That's right. You've heard of him?"
"Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody…the Auror?"
she asked emphatically as she stood up, her eyes boring into him, clearly
hoping for a contradiction.
"No, Adelaide. Alistor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the internationally acclaimed juggler. Exactly how many Alistor
'Mad-Eye' Moodys do you think there are in the
wizarding world?" His patience with
their game of 20-questions had come to an end and, truth be told, her demeanor was so peculiar, it was starting to disconcert him. "What's this all about? Do you know Alistor?"
Addy gave the short, bark-like laugh of a madwoman and sat back down heavily in the chair as she replied, "Yes. Well,
no. Actually, he knows me."
"He knows—"
At that moment, Snape was distracted by a hissing sound from
behind him. His neglected cauldron was
bubbling over, the deep claret potion having curdled into a chunky, muddy glop. Opaque, rust-colored bubbles burped forth
from the surface, as the gooey substance ran down the sides of the cauldron,
spitting into the flame beneath.
"DAMN!" he roared. What the
hell was he doing discussing Alistor Moody when he
had an antidote to brew and time was running out? He turned to snarl his fury at Addy but he
was too late…she had already bolted from the room. He never saw the look of desperate fear in
her eyes as she ran down the corridors, nor heard the model rattling in her
quivering hands.
To be continued…
****************************************************
Author's Other Note:
Here's a brief peek at the outline of things to come: the next chapter will be a short
"Interlude"—should be up in about a week. Then it's on to what happens at the
next Order of the Phoenix
meeting. Now that things have settled
down, I should be able to go back to my old posting pattern of a new chapter
every week or two. Thanks again for
helping me get this one up!!!