6 Safe Haven

Samara felt herself being hauled through the air for a few moments; then she tumbled down, bumped painfully into a fence panel, and landed on her hands and knees on a hard stone-paved surface. She looked up. By the faint light of half moon, could make out the silhouette of a small house. It seemed to be one of a terrace of Victorian workers houses, and she was kneeling in what appeared a small patio backyard. The house itself had an air of neglect. The windows where dull, while the white paint of the backdoor was flaking. A number of flowerpots with unsightly plants where scattered about. One of them contained a Peruvian mandrake - an unlikely adornment in a Muggle garden, she thought. It was raining, and soon her wet hair and robe clung to her uncomfortably.

Where was she, and how had she got here? The ring had been a Portkey, of course, but how had it got into the pocket of her robes? Mysterious as it was, she felt extremely grateful for having escaped further abuse and torture. The mere thought of what had been about to happen to her made her shiver. Suddenly, she heard a soft pop a few yards away – someone had just Apparated. She saw the black silhouette of a tall figure in a long, hooded cloak scanning the surroundings. Her heart sank; it hadn't taken them long to find her. There was nowhere to hide. Trying to duck down, and melt into the shadows, Samara wished the ground could swallow her up. The Death Eater seemed to have discovered her, and started to move towards her with slow, heavy steps. She was terrified. Then a familiar deep voice broke the silence. It was Snape.

"There you are."

He reached her and crouched next to her. Blind rage and indignation drowned out the fear in her heart.

"Death Eater! Traitor!" she spat at him in disgust.

"And lucky for you. If I had not been there tonight, your little escapade would have come to a sorry end," he replied calmly.

"You?"

Samara looked at him incredulously. Suddenly, she remembered how his long fingers had reached into just that pocket in her robes to retrieve the vial of unicorn blood earlier this night. Had he slipped the Portkey into her pocket? But why would he want to get her out of that place? Was it rivalry between him and Malfoy, or did he have his own insidious plans for her? And why did he have her mother's ring? The only possible answer to that was too sinister to consider.

"You're not very quick thinking tonight, Miss Ravenhood," he growled. "Now let's get you inside."

For a moment, Samara was too confused to protest, nor was she in any condition to resist. Pulling her arm over his shoulders, he slipped his hand under her knees, lifted her up, and carried her towards the house. The backdoor sprung open before him, and opened the way into what looked like the kitchen. With a casual flick of his wand, candles lit up in a rusty holder on the wall, the fire in the old-fashioned cast-iron hearth sprang to life, and the door closed with a bang.

Snape sat her down on a small wooden table that stood along one of the walls. Samaras battered body did not appreciate being moved, and was searing with pain. Clenching her teeth, she didn't manage to suppress a faint whimper.

"Pain?"

Samara didn't answer, and just gave him a look of pure loathing.

She tried to check out the dimly lit room, although she could hardly see with her left eye, probably because it was so swollen. The floor was covered in grimy stone tiles, and the walls in peeling white paint. There were cobwebs everywhere, as if the place had not been inhabited for some time. Apart from the table and a couple of chairs, there was a shelf full of dusty old glass bottles, some of which Snape was now removing, and placing onto the table next to her. Then he walked over to an old sink in the corner, and returned with a bowl of steaming hot water and a couple of towels.

"What are you going to do with me?" she challenged him.

He looked at her, an amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Patch you up, keep you away from Malfoy's misguided attention. I thought you would appreciate that."

She ignored the sarcasm in his voice.

"So you betrayed Dumbledore all those years! A Death Eater!" she shouted full of indignation.

Snape looked at her sternly. "Now listen, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, I broke with the Dark Lord a long time ago. When he returned, Dumbledore asked me to go back to provide him with intelligence, and I can assure you it is no pleasant job. Your foolishness tonight could easily have blown my cover."

He opened one of the bottles and poured some of the content into the hot water. It had a pungent and medicinal smell that Samara knew well.

"What?"

Samara was considering his words, unsure what to think. She held up her hand to his face.

"This is my mother's ring. She wore it the night she was murdered. If you're on our side, how come it was in your possession?"

Now it was Snape, who looked genuinely baffled.

"Your mother's ring?"

"How did you get it?"

Her eyes flashed angrily.

"Just keep it. It's yours, I don't want it back," he replied defiantly, seemingly unnerved.

"That's not the point. How did you get it? How?"

"I cannot tell you that, but I assure you I obtained it in a perfectly legitimate way."

"Why should I believe you? And how can anyone be sure that you are not spying for the Death Eaters?"

"That would be Professor Dumbledore's concern. I won't discuss it. Now let me attend to that nasty cut on your head."

"Don't you dare touch me!"

His expression was somewhere between annoyed and amused. He raised one eyebrow.

"Don't be silly. Be grateful that you can't see your face at the moment, it is not a pretty sight."

She considered her options. She was wandless and injured, and he had potions that would help her. As a Healer and Potions Mistress, she was well familiar with the smell and taste of all these potions, so he would not be able to slip her anything harmful without her noticing. Whether or not he was saying the truth, if she allowed him to heal her, she would be stronger and better able to respond when it became apparent why he had brought her here. Until she was in a better position to escape, her best course of action was to appear cooperative, but avoid taking anything too sedative. She needed to keep her wits about her.

Snape soaked a towel in the water, and reached out to wipe away the blood from her head. She flinched away and tensed involuntarily. After the brutal violence she had just experienced, she couldn't help but be scared of a man trying to touch her. Her reaction hadn't escaped him. His hand stopped in mid air, and put the towel aside. His other hand slowly moved to touch her hair, then slid round to cup the back of her head. She started trembling uncontrollably, her breathing coming in sharp, shallow gasps, while she stared into his black, unfathomable eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, "Although this may sting a little."

With his left holding her head still, his right hand reached for the towel again. He started to dab at the wound above her eye with unexpected gentleness. Before long, her body stopped trembling.

"See, nothing to be afraid of," he murmured.

Then he took his wand to perform a simple healing spell.

His wand was ebony, like hers, but a little longer. Samara felt sad, when she remembered her own wand of ebony and unicorn hair, the one her dad had bought her in Ollivander's, before she went to Hogwarts, and which was now lost.

Snape had soaked another towel in de-swelling potion, and proceeded to carefully dab some around her cheek and eye. The sensation of his touch was not so unpleasant. Samara closed her eyes, and felt the tightness and soreness subside. With a deep, shuddering breath, her tension fell away. His caring and gentle behaviour was not just healing the external bruises.

"That's better," he muttered. "Now, where are you hurting?"

"I think I have broken some ribs," she whispered.

His hands felt around her ribcage. She flinched, when he touched a sore area.

He nodded. "Let's see, what can we do about that? I'm no expert at healing spells."

"Just take me to St. Mungo's, they'll fix it."

"No." He shook his head. "For the time being, it's safer for you to stay here."

"Do you have any Skele-Gro?"

"I do." He took a silver goblet from one of the cupboards, and another bottle off the shelf, filled the goblet, and handed it to her.

She hesitated, looking at the goblet in her hand. There was a faint engraving of a snake winding itself around a crown.

"Worried I might poison you?" he remarked dryly.

Samara blushed. She held her breath, and downed the viscous white liquid with its familiar awful taste.

"You will need to rest now."

"I need to go home."

"Not until you are well and fit to travel, and not while Malfoy is still out there looking for you. Now put your arm around my neck."

Samara obeyed, and he picked her up, and carried her up a narrow staircase to a small landing, and into an unadorned room with a rusty old bed. He put her down, and lit the candle on the bedside table.

There was a small wooden wardrobe in the corner, from which he took a bundle of garments, and handed them to her.

"Here, you can wear these. Get out of those damp clothes, I'll be back shortly." He left, and closed the door behind him.

The bundle turned out to be a pair of women's flannel pyjamas, as Samara deduced from the flower embroidery around the hem, hardened from uncountable washes, but warm nonetheless. She changed into them, and slipped under the covers, which felt so toasty, Snape probably had performed a warming charm on them. She sighed, only just realising how cold she had been.

After a few minutes, he returned with another goblet, and sat down by the bed.

"For the pain," he said, holding the goblet to her lips.

Again, Samara inhaled the fumes of the potion. Satisfied that it was what he said, and nothing else, she drank willingly. As soon as she had finished, her eyelids became heavy, and she sank down on the pillow. Only now did she realise just how exhausted she was. The last thing she felt before drifting off was Snape pulling the covers up around her.

Suddenly, Samara felt a cold hand on her thigh, its fingers digging cruelly into her flesh. Scared, she wanted to get away, but she could not move. It was pitch black around her, but she could hear somebody breathing in the dark. Then the tip of a wand lit up in front of her face. Through the blinding light she could see Malfoy's face, his icy grey eyes glittering maliciously.

"Now my dear, what an unfortunate interruption, shall we resume where we left off?"

An evil smile played around his mouth. He pointed his wand at her chest. Terrified, she tried to scream, again, and again, but there was no air in her lungs, no sound left her throat.

"Miss Ravenhood, wake up!"

Snape's deep voice cut through her dream. Then Malfoy was gone, and the darkness was illuminated by soft candlelight. Samara found herself sitting up in bed, trembling, her eyes wide open, her heart racing. Snape sat on the edge of the mattress, dressed in an old, grey night shirt, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"Shhh, it was only a dream."

Slowly, Samara relaxed. His presence was somehow comforting.

"Cruciatus syndrome – you've been screaming your lungs out," he explained. "What else did he do to you? Did he -"

Snape hesitated. His eyes bored into hers searchingly. Samara looked away, shaking her head. She didn't want to think about those terrible moments.

"He tried…"

Snape let out a breath, as if relieved. He took a goblet from the bedside table, and handed it to her.

"Drink. You are strong, you will get through this."

She accepted the goblet and took a tiny sip. She recognized the taste. It was Dreamless Sleep Potion. Though the temptation of a good night's sleep was strong, she remembered her resolution. He did not fail to interpret her hesitation correctly.

"Drink. I will watch over you, and I won't touch you. You are safe here."

She wanted to believe him. Within seconds of downing the potion, she tumbled into a warm, welcoming darkness.

When Samara woke up, the orange glow of afternoon sun filled the room. Feeling much better, she got up, and changed into her own clothes, which lay dried and folded on the bedside table. The Skele-Gro had done its job, and she only felt a slight soreness now. The house was completely quiet, apart from the creaking of floorboards under her steps. As she climbed down the stairs, Snape appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Samara couldn't believe her eyes; he was wearing Muggle clothes. The washed out jeans and black turtleneck jumper suited him well, revealing the shape of his body far more than his wizard robes did. She was still torn between her infatuation with him, and the shock at finding out he was a Death Eater.

"Are you hungry?"

Yes, she was very hungry. Samara nodded.

"Come with me then."

She followed him, her stomach rumbling as she breathed in the delicious smell of home-cooked food that greeted her from the kitchen. He pulled away one of the chairs from the kitchen table, inviting her to sit down. Then he brought her a bowl of steaming food from a large copper cauldron on the hearth. Samara dipped in her spoon and sighed. It was some sort of beef and vegetable stew, and it was very good. Snape sat down opposite her, watching her eat in silence. She took a look around the kitchen. The cobwebs were gone, and, while still run down and in need of attention, the place looked much more habitable than it had the night before. In the corner stood a plastic bag sporting the logo of a Muggle supermarket chain.

"You went to Sainsbury's?"

"Where else would I go to obtain provisions around here?"

"It's just, I thought-"

"You thought I would hate Muggles? I'm a halfblood, I grew up in the Muggle world."

"In this house?"

He nodded.

"Make yourself at home, I'll be next door if you need anything," he said and left the kitchen.

Once she was finished with her food, she went to look for Snape, and found him sitting in an old, worn out armchair in a small sitting room next to the kitchen. A fire was lit, and Snape was reading, surrounded by stacks of books. There was hardly an inch of wall space that was not covered with books.

"When can I go home?"

"Not until tomorrow morning. By then, the Dark Lord will be back, and Malfoy will have no time for extracurricular activities. Until then, you will stay here. Read a book, if you want."

He got up and picked a tattered looking book from one of the shelves, which he handed to her.

"Here, you might enjoy this one."

Samara sighed, and sat down on the floor in front of the fire. She looked through the book Snape had given her. It was a Potions book, a very rare one probably, as she had never come across it. Her eyes swept across the bookshelves. The tomes covered a wide range of topics, from Arithmancy to Transfiguration, Potions to Herbology, more Potions - to some very dark and sinister looking ones. She wondered what Snape was reading. The title of the book he was holding read 'Ancient Blood Magic'. Why would someone as accomplished as Snape join You-know-who? To Samara's mind, Death Eaters were dim-witted losers.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

He looked up from his reading, his unyielding gaze revealing nothing.

"I have been asking myself that exact same question for the past seventeen years," he replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I do think you owe me an explanation," Samara insisted.

"I don't owe you anything, Miss Ravenhood. And if an explanation is due, maybe you would care to reveal why you thought strolling into Slime and Slouch would be a good idea. If that was the only option, I could have gone myself. And that shield charm was just pathetic."

Samara blushed. "Did you read my mind back there?"

"Sort of."

"That wasn't very nice."

"It wasn't meant to be nice, it was necessary in the situation."

"Still, I'd rather you didn't do it again."

"Then don't give me a reason to. And work on your self-defence skills. There are dark and dangerous times ahead; you'll be a danger to yourself and others."

Samara looked at the floor. Ever since the day her family was murdered, she had lost her nerve in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She had scraped an "A" at her OWLS, mostly due to her strong Patronus, and had dropped the subject at NEWT level.

"I tried, it's hopeless."

"With that defeatist attitude of yours it will be. All it takes is practice."

He returned to his book, and they sat there quietly for a while. Samara looked at him stealthily, trying not to stare at the lean, muscular form of his thighs underneath the denim. Somehow he looked more attractive than ever. His slim hands holding the book, stroking across the pages almost lovingly, the shadows thrown by his black lashes as he sat there, engrossed in his reading, still inspired a deep longing in her.

Oh, she so much wanted to trust him, but now she wasn't sure what to think. Snape, the Death Eater, reformed and spying for Dumbledore according to his own words…Snape, who had intervened when she was tortured, and almost raped. Snape, who had helped her escape, and taken care of her injuries. His behaviour towards her had been entirely noble, how could she doubt his integrity? Her feelings for him were unchanged, but she was afraid of what sinister secrets his past might hold. Snape, who had her mother's ring, and wouldn't tell her how he obtained it… Why had he chosen to become a Death Eater? What horrible crimes might he have committed, and what had made him turn back? Questions she so much wanted the answers to, but knew he would refuse to talk about.

Samara decided to go to bed early, still tired after the events of the night before. As much as she wanted to go home, she was glad not to be alone during the night, despite the Dreamless Sleep potion Snape had given her to take before bedtime.

The next morning, she Apparated back to Ravencroft. Snape had managed to retrieve her wand, and Samara was overjoyed. Before she left, he warned her to be careful.

"You must not stay at the hospital out of hours any more, it is no longer safe. We will move the potions into my office, and complete them there. At least we still have this..." He pulled the little vial of unicorn blood from his pocket. "Hopefully, it will be worth all the trouble."