15. Parallel Highway

Severus paced the dark alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, waiting impatiently for Isadora to emerge from the back door of the pub. A faint clink sound came from his bag each time it tapped against his leg; he needed to refill his stores at the Apothecary. Isadora had written him the date and time of her Apparition test and practically begged him to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron afterwards. There was a sense of urgency in her writing, and though Severus could guess what she wanted to discuss, he was still surprised at how desperately she seemed to want to speak to him. Why not Regulus? If what he suspected had taken place, Regulus would be equally (if not more) willing to hear about what had happened, down to every precise detail.

A loud crack echoed in the cramped space behind the pub, and Isadora appeared out of thin air, practically on top of one of the several dust bins lining the brick wall. Severus heard a muffled yell of pain as one of the bins fell onto her leg.

"The Ministry gave you your Apparition license?" Severus asked incredulously as he watched Isadora try to right herself, dusting her robes off. "Did you have to Confund the examiner?" He smirked triumphantly when Isadora glared at him, her robes finally clean.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she hissed as she tapped an indiscriminate brick on the wall beside them and watched as, slowly, the portal to Diagon Alley opened for them.

"I've been told on multiple occasions that I am," Severus retorted as they made their way down the cobblestone street. Wandering the alley were dozens of witches and wizards of varying ages, clothed in almost every color of the rainbow. Severus grimaced as they passed a group of particularly batty-looking witches emerging from Flourish and Blotts, all wearing some of the most hideous neon robes he had ever had the misfortune of seeing.

"Who let them out of Saint Mungo's?" Isadora asked, raising her eyebrows as they passed the gaggle of old women, who were currently squawking to each other about the latest issue of Witch Weekly, a copy gripped tightly in each of their bony hands.

Severus snorted as the two of them hurried past; one of the witches seemed to have overheard Isadora's comment and was glaring over at the two students making their way through the crowd. A few youngsters darted past, nearly knocking Severus over into the outdoor seating at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. The children's parents followed close behind, looking exhausted and glancing at Severus apologetically.

"Remember when we were that young? Thrilled to finally be off to Hogwarts?" Isadora said quietly, watching the kids run further up the street.

"I think I was just thrilled to finally not have to spend every night at my parent's house, honestly," Severus admitted, pulling out a long list of ingredients he needed to purchase as they neared the Apothecary. "The Snape household was never what you would call 'kid-friendly.'"

"That's unfortunate," he heard Isadora say in a sympathetic tone. He shrugged as he pushed the door to the Apothecary open, relieved to see it wasn't flooded with Hogwarts students.

"God, I always forget how bad it smells in here," Isadora muttered from somewhere behind him, but Severus was not listening. His reaction to the Apothecary was quite the opposite: he truly loved this store. Filled to the ceiling with all sorts of ingredients, it was the one shop in Diagon Alley where he had to make sure he kept on task, or for sure he would spend all of his pocket money on various ingredients he would have no use for. Shimmering silver unicorn horns were hanging behind the counter, under what Severus could just see was a clever protective charm, to keep thieving hands at bay. A hand-written sign next to the horns alerted interested shoppers that the going rate was fifteen Galleons. Next to the solid horns were golden taffeta pouches, each containing a few ounces of pre-ground unicorn horn, for those who did not possess the necessary tools required to grind the horn themselves.

Severus' eyes wandered around the large circular shop. He had visited this place so often, and yet every time he found something new to admire. A long scroll of parchment was tacked to the wall over an empty glass urn that seemed to have been stained red by whatever it once held. Severus felt Isadora's presence next to him as he examined the list of names written on the parchment, a faded grey quill hanging by a thread next to it.

"What do you suppose this is for?" she inquired, pointing at the list.

"Re'em blood," he whispered, fascinated that the Apothecary would carry such an ingredient. The stains on the inside of the urn looked hard, as if it had been empty for some time. He noticed her questioning glance and explained, "It's used in Strengthening Potions, or you can drink it straight if you wish. Re'em blood gives the drinker incredible strength, but it's an amazingly rare substance to come by."

"Why?" Isadora asked as she examined a jar of scarab beetles close by.

"Re'em are native only to North America and eastern Asia. Their laws governing the protection of magical beasts are different than ours, and the market has restrictions on how ingredients taken from living creatures can be distributed. Needless to say," Severus said, taking note of the long list of those wishing to be notified once more stock was produced, "it's a hot commodity where the demand exceeds the supply."

Isadora smirked as he gave another longing glance at the unicorn horns behind the counter. "You aren't going to put your name on the list?" she said, handing him the quill.

Severus shook his head. "It's a waste of time. That blood has been congealed for at least a year, maybe more. By the looks of this list I'd have to wait until I was thirty before I could get my hands on an ounce of the blood." He sighed as he said this. Using Re'em blood in Strengthening Potions made the solutions much more stable than the mixture of salamander blood and pomegranate juice now used to substitute.

"Why are we in here again?"

Severus noted the hint of disgust in Isadora's voice and saw that she had just bumped into the large glass tank containing thousands of live leeches. He stifled a laugh as he looked at his shopping list and made his way over to the large wall full of drawers, each labeled in beautiful hand-written script; dangling off each drawer was a copper scoop. The man who owned the Apothecary, a very old, retired Potions master, had come to know Severus over the years, and nodded feebly as the young man began filling his own glass bottles with the needed ingredients. He was particularly careful when handling the monkshood flowers, as he did not want to get the oil onto his skin; if any of it penetrated his body it could be deadly.

Ten minutes later and his change purse Galleons lighter, Severus and Isadora reemerged into Diagon Alley, into the bright sunlight that temporarily blinded both of them.

"Now, what was it you were so desperate to discuss with me?" Severus asked as he secured the lock on his bag.

Isadora glanced around, seemingly uncomfortable with the amount of people milling about. "Not here," she whispered, and he followed her down a side-alley, which took them directly to Knockturn Alley.

There were very few wizards on this side of the street. Those that required a visit to Knockturn Alley quickly made themselves scarce by visiting the shops necessary and quickly fleeing the scene, as if ashamed to be caught visiting such a disreputable place. Isadora seemed to know the layout better than Severus, for she set across the way to a dark wooden door, revealing within a pub dingier than the Hog's Head.

"Miss Starbuck?" the barman questioned as he wiped down the counter. "Does your –"

"My parents need not know about my visit today, Barnabas," Isadora said quickly. "I am of age, I am allowed in here without them."

The barman nodded and waved his hand as if to welcome them. The pub was practically empty; two figures draped in black sat in the booth furthest from the door, huddled over pints, their faces appearing chiseled in the candlelight. Isadora led Severus to a table and sat down, pushing the candle out from between them.

"Nice place," Severus muttered sarcastically as he placed his bag on the seat next to him.

Ignoring his comment, Isadora began to speak, "I met him, Sev. I met the Dark Lord."

Severus stared blankly at the young woman across from him. His assumptions had been correct. "I assumed you would have, since you're of age now," he said quietly, folding his hands on the table. "I met him as well."

Her eyebrows rose and she leaned in close. "When?" she demanded. "I didn't see you!"

He smirked. "Of course you didn't, we weren't all there on the same day!"

Isadora huffed, but did not lean away. "What did he say to you?" she asked.

"He explained why I was there and asked whether or not I planned on accepting his offer come graduation," Severus replied simply. "I imagine he did the same for you."

She nodded, brushing her mutinous fringe out of her face. Severus felt the urge to suggest she trim it back, but the idea had already been shot down twice. "How did you get there? My father had to bring me, and blindfolded at that!" she said. It seemed she was offended that she couldn't be trusted with the location of Lord Voldemort's hideout.

"Avery's father brought the both of us," Severus said in barely a whisper, unsure of the allegiance of the two men on the other side of the pub. "We were blindfolded as well. Everyone is until they receive the Mark."

Isadora picked indiscriminately at her fingernails. "You're joining, of course, right?" she asked.

"I don't think I'd be sitting here if I had told the Dark Lord otherwise," Severus answered with a smirk.

She stared at him, her lips trembling as she asked what he could only assume was a question she feared to voice, "Were you scared?"

They sat quietly for a moment, the question lingering in the air, before Severus answered, "I think we'd be fools if we weren't."

An hour later, Severus found himself back in the flat he rented during the summer holidays, carefully removing each jar from his bag and stowing them in the niches on the wall, organized alphabetically, as always. The flat was cleaner than usual; it seemed Severus was rarely here anymore, now that he had the option of Apparating to whatever location he so desired. Quite frequently he would find himself perched on a rocky moor, or else staring out over jagged cliffs into the sea.

As he stepped back to admire the wall of ingredients before him, he heard a loud crack, and thought for sure he had just shattered a jar he had forgotten about. When he turned, however, he saw the figure of Isadora, shaking, sinking to the floor. Her face was stained with tears.

"What – are you alright?" he asked, dropping down next to her.

Her shoulders heaved as she continued to sob, a letter clutched in her hand. Her mouth was moving, but she seemed unable to speak. Severus pulled a glass from the table next to him, pointed his wand at it, and muttered, "Aquamenti." A jet of water poured from the tip of his wand into the glass. He handed it to her once full.

They sat on the floor together, the silence only broken by Isadora's intermittent sobs and sighs. Severus was never one for comforting those in need, but he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and stroked her back in an attempt to sooth her.

"H-h-here," she managed to sputter, handing him the wrinkled piece of parchment she had been clinging to.

Isadora,

It pains me to have to tell you this in a letter, but I feel I must be as expedient as possible. We can no longer continue to see each other. I have found a higher calling, a greater place in this world which requires my undivided attention. I think of it as soul-searching. It will make my family proud.

Regulus

A spark of anger flared up in Severus' chest as he carefully read over the note, amazed at how blunt it was, how cruel and uncaring Regulus had been. The boy had barely turned sixteen, what could he possibly have found that was more important than finishing his education and joining the Dark Lord as a fully-prepared wizard? If it was because he feared Lord Voldemort would not accept his relationship with Isadora, Regulus was sorely mistaken. Severus knew of a few Death Eaters who had recently been married, with the blessing of the Dark Lord, no less!

"Isadora, I'm so sorry," Severus whispered, and felt a sudden urge to hold her. It was quite unlike anything he had ever felt before, this need to comfort the girl he had come to know over the past year. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he wrapped both of his arms around her shaking body, still stroking her.

"I – I don't – what could he…" Her voice trailed off as she buried her face in his shoulder. He felt her hand clutching at the collar of his shirt. "My mother…"

Severus looked at her, confused. "What could your mother possibly have to do with this?" he asked.

Isadora shook her head and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "She – she'll kill me," she stammered, her voice thick. "She'll think this was m-my fault."

He had never been dumped in such a way as Regulus had done to Isadora, but he certainly knew the pain of losing a person he loved. The night he watched Lily slam the portrait of the Fat Lady in his face, unwilling to hear his apology, he felt very much the same way he imagined Isadora to be feeling; the difference being, he didn't have someone to go to, someone to confide in. Unsure of what he could say that would possibly make her feel better, Severus continued his ministrations, rocking her gently as they sat on the dusty floor of his flat.