New Beginnings

Having fallen asleep with her under a blanket of only moonlight, he slowly woke to find her watching him with a faint smile. He brushed aside a stray curl of hers, laughing softly. He hadn't felt in a long time as well rested as he did now. His eyes trailed over her, noticing that somehow they had moved in their sleep to him being on his side holding her as she lay on her back.

"Hi."

"Hi," he replied softly, barely above a whisper.

"What time is it?"

He moved slightly to glance over her head before snorting. "It's a little past one." She was breaking curfew now among the decorum rule.

"Hufflepuff's going to be way behind in points tomorrow."

"Only if they noticed you're missing, Celes."

"And here I thought this was my chance to make Hufflepuff kick your arse, Ravenclaw," she teased, poking him gently in the chest.

"Oh? We'll see about that in the morning. After all, you've yet to attend a single class." He smiled inwardly when he heard her laugh.

"Yeah, I was kind of an idiot earlier, wasn't I?"

"Perhaps a little. Honestly, though, I think you could make it work for you. This bad girl image you're making for yourself," he drawled. "That way when we start dating, people don't think it's me corrupting you this time. Works out loads better for me." He grinned widely, laughing when she lightly hit his chest. There was something about her that always brought out the rare playful side of him.

"I should go."

"Or you could stay," he said with a shrug. "We were sleeping rather well a few moments ago. And if you leave now, you'll likely be brought before Dumbledore and not get a bit of rest afterwards."

"Delay the inevitable in other words?"

"More along the lines of taking care of your beauty sleep," he replied with a shrug.

"I'll remember that when I'm getting my lecture tomorrow." She snuggled closer before her head flopped back against the pillow a few times. "Toby?"

"Yes, Celes?"

"What do you have stuffed in your pillow?"

He blinked a few times before laughing awkwardly. Oh dear. He smiled faintly and reached a hand into the pillow case, pulling out the magazine that he quickly tried to hide. Only she was too fast and grabbed his arm prior to him getting rid of it.

The moonlight from the window caught the magazine just right to show her the cover. He caught her eyes widening instantly. He winced slightly, feeling his face redden slightly.

"Why do you have an adult magazine stuffed in your pillow?"

"It's my assignment for the week. From Pomfrey." He cleared his throat, playing with a loose thread on his sheets. "She wanted me to look at it. And . . . you know. See if it helped my problem."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He rubbed at his neck. Merlin, it was hot in there now.

"And? Did it help?"

"I, well, um, yeah, but I didn't use the magazine." He felt horribly flustered. Then again, he was horribly uncomfortable. He always was. He could have sex, but talking about the intimate details of it was an entirely different animal. He'd become a shy teenager, red in the face as a tomato.

"What did you use, then?"

He closed his eyes instantly. He knew he was likely wearing a look of pain, but he answered a moment later. Oh, why wasn't it easier to talk about with her? He had sex with her. Lots of times.

"The two-way mirror," he whispered, keeping his eyes firmly closed. He couldn't bear to look.

"Y-You used me instead of . . . that?"

"Yes," he answered, grimacing.

Oh, what was wrong with him? She was his wife. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—to be embarrassed about. He was working on something for the continued good health of their sex life.

"And it worked? You, um . . ."

"Yes. Successfully."

"But I was asleep, though. Had the mirror held in front of my face all night. That's not anything to . . . wank off to." She laughed nervously. Her nervousness helped put him at ease.

"You were relaxed, calm, peaceful looking, happy and beautiful in other words." He felt her hands join with his and squeeze lightly. "I don't want some strange witch who has likely had work done and is enhanced to, to do that. All I really need is someone who's real, who has flaws but is still beautiful in my eyes, honest and that." His usual elegance was covered by his feeling of awkwardness.

"It's funny that we can have sex, but when we try talking about it, we might as well start talking about Dumbledore in a pink dress and red heels." He laughed, nodding as he squeezed her hand. "I know it won't help me. I do know that, Severus. That it won't bring her back." He pulled her closer, holding her lovingly. "I-I just want to feel whole again. I want her back."

"I know, Celes. And if I thought it'd help, I would do it. But we're not ready. Not physically, mentally, anything really. We need time to heal."

"What if when we're ready, I can't have children anymore?"

"Then, we'll adopt or see if we can get a surrogate." He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes. "The only thing in my life I want the most is you, Aurora. Everything else is just sprinkles on my perfect warm fudge cake." He heard her soft laugh instantly.

"Warm fudge?" she repeated with another laugh.

"Well, it was either that or Black Forest, and I really didn't want to be reminded of how you're related to them again." He smiled faintly as she wrapped her arms around him. "We should sleep." His eyes narrowed for a moment when she pulled back, realizing a second later that she was making herself comfortable for bed. He did the same and stripped down to his boxers. Handing his shirt to her, he watched her put it on to cover her undergarments before she snuggled up against him again.

"Good night, Celes."

"Night, Toby." And with that, they fell fast asleep again.

~Rising~

He glanced around the classroom the following morning, looking for her. She was going to be late if she didn't show up in the next few minutes. His brows furrowed. Merlin, this was the first class of the day. Where was she?

Since they had woken up together just a few hours earlier, he knew she was awake. He also knew that she was in a good mood when she had left. She had remarked before leaving about how their relationship had the ongoing theme of them sneaking around all the time. Which did hold some truth to it, he admitted.

They had snuck around when they were professors: she being the Astronomy Mistress, he being the Potions Master. They then later continued to sneak around with one another after they eloped, since it was too dangerous for others to know considering his role in Dumbledore's plans. Perhaps their sneaking around was the allure of their relationship, the thing that kept them interested. After all, all couples had that one thing. Perhaps this was theirs.

Watching more students filter into the room, his frown deepened as he realized she still hadn't shown up. Had something happened when she returned to her common room? He exhaled, glancing towards one of the Hufflepuff girls nearby.

"Hey. Um, have you seen Celes this morning?" He ignored his irritation with his own question. Adolescents were usually one who butchered the language in his opinion. There were the rare ones, of course, but it'd be too easy for others to realize who he was if he didn't throw them off somehow.

The blond stared at him for a moment before glancing at her friend. She sighed not long after. "Yeah." Her blue eyes returned to him after her friend nodded slowly. "She was in the bathroom last we saw." The Hufflepuff girl looked down at her table. "Sounded like she was sick or something."

His eyes widened. What? She was fine when she had left him. He blinked a few times.

"Celes Martins," he repeated, speaking to the idiot girl slowly so she'd understand.

"Yeah, her." The two girls looked at him, then. Their eyes now held an accusatory look. "We know she was with you last night. Ethan told us all about it."

"Oh, really?" He scoffed before glancing at Ethan from across the room. However, before he could continue, a boy—Ravenclaw he noticed—clapped him on the back.

"Lay off him, Lea. Merlin." The curly-haired boy, who likely could have passed for a Sirius Black look-alike, then smiled cockily. "Girls. Honestly. They get their knickers in a twist about the littlest things."

Toby resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow towards the boy.

"So, is it true what they're saying, then, Toby? That you and, uh, that cute Hufflepuff girl shagged last night?" the boy asked, smirking.

Toby shrugged, hating himself for it. He was acting like James Potter currently. "I don't kiss and tell." He caught the boy's laugh and nod of appreciation before Toby was clapped on the back again.

"Way to go, Brooks." The boy held out his hand, smiling widely. "Name's Anthony Lark." He jerked his head towards the Hufflepuff girls. "Don't mind Lea and Robin. Those two are so desperate for attention that they'd kill for it. Isn't that right, loves?" The girls glared at him and turned away. Anthony opened his mouth to continue spouting crap, but the bell interrupted him.

Toby forced a pleasant smile as he watched Anthony take his seat with his friends. His dark eyes darted about the room, hoping she was there. But he didn't see Celes anywhere. She was the only one missing. He sighed, turning from the door to watch Slughorn slowly approach the front of the room.

"Right then. There we are. Welcome to fifth-year Potions." Slughorn smiled softly, resting his hands on his large belly. "Now, before we begin today, let me stress to you all the importance of the exams you'll be sitting next June. Your O.W.L.s. They'll—" The door slamming open stopped him instantly and caused everyone to glance towards it. "Ah." Slughorn's smile widened, his eyes twinkling lightly. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show at all again, Ms. Martins. Take a seat." He motioned to the empty spot next to Toby.

"Sorry, Professor." She slowly walked towards the spot. "I got lost."

"No matter. No matter, my dear." Slughorn then chuckled. "It is a bit overwhelming at first. Now, then. Where was I? Oh right. Your O.W.L.s. Ordinary Wizarding Level."

Slughorn continued to drone on, but Toby quickly tuned him out, focusing instead on Celes. He visually examined, noticing that the girls unfortunately seemed to be right. Celes did have a sort of sickly look. Her eyes were red and puffy. He wondered if she had been crying again. But it didn't make sense to him really. She seemed fine when she had left. She seemed fine during breakfast as well, healthy in his opinion, since he had watched her from afar. He leaned in towards her.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, careful not to draw attention to them as Slughorn continued.

"Nothing," she replied, equally as soft and evasively.

He frowned, resting his hand on his wand and casting Muffliato around them so they'd not be overheard. "You're lying again, Celes."

"I'm fine, Toby. Just drop it," she hissed, clenching her fist. Her eyes remained on Slughorn.

"Celes, please. You were fine at breakfast. I—help me understand."

"It didn't agree with me, all right? Now, could we please act like we're paying attention? Not all of us are potions geniuses." She was clearly annoyed with him.

"Fine. On one condition." He brushed off her loud exhale and continued. "Whichever house has the most points at the end of class wins. Deal?" He watched her glance sideways.

"Fine. You're on. I'm going to prove to you that Hufflepuffs aren't idiots."

He smirked inwardly. That's what he was hoping for. After all, he hadn't said exactly what she'd win. He turned back, canceling his spell.

"Now, then, shall we?" Slughorn motioned to the center table where there was a series of steaming cauldrons and vials. He smiled widely. "Before you are potions that we'll be brewing this year and several key ingredients that you'll be expected to recognize for your O.W.L.s. Most of these, you should recognize from last year. However, I've added a few tricky ones." He chuckled softly. "Well, come here then, class. Does you no good to be sitting over there." He stood off to the side, so the students could pack tightly around the table. He motioned to the first simmering potion. "Who can tell me what potion this is?"

Toby sniffed slightly, recognizing it immediately. He glanced around, waiting for someone to respond. It would be too easy if he had answered. He watched Celes raise her hand slowly.

"Yes, my dear?" Slughorn stated.

"It's Dreamless Sleep, sir," Celes answered quietly. "And you're missing the lavender."

"Quite right, my dear. Quite right." He chuckled, glancing around the room as he moved onto the next cauldron. "What about this potion?" Again, only Celes raised her hand. "Yes, my dear?"

"Draught of Peace, sir."

Toby smirked inwardly. She was doing well so far. Then again, she was good at identifying potions. He then noticed her flinch as she glanced into the next cauldron. He didn't blame her, however.

"Come now, class. Surely Miss Martins isn't the only one who knows potions." Slughorn stepped next to the potion simmering, motioning to it.

Sighing silently, Toby raised his hand when he realized none of his idiot housemates knew it. He waited until Slughorn nodded to him.

"The antidote to most venom, sir," he answered with a frown. He had certainly brewed enough of that over the years. "Specifically, I'd say this potion neutralizes snake venom."

"Very intuitive, Mr. Brooks, and quite correct. It is."

Toby nodded slowly, glancing away. He rubbed his hidden scars absentmindedly. Had he not dosed himself prior to heading to the Shrieking Shack that night, he'd have been—to use his father's words—shit out of luck. He frowned. He'd have to owl his parents soon. Glancing beside him at Celes, he wondered if she had sent an owl to her parents yet. He knew that both their parents knew about her losing the baby. Pomfrey had done that while they rested. He still wasn't certain how the matron kept their parents from bursting into the castle and demanding to see them.

The strong scent of raspberries overwhelmed him as he moved to the next potion, Amortentia. Toby then laughed silently as he amended his earlier thought. The fresh smell of a recent rain and raspberries were what he smelled. He glanced back at Celes, knowing that she smelled something entirely different. It still amused him that her scent for him of all things was herbs and the dungeons. He smirked inwardly, a distant memory flashing behind his eyes.

~Rising~

Glancing out a nearby window as he continued his nightly patrol, he snorted when he saw the shadowy figure heading towards the castle in the pouring rain. Without so much as a glance to see if anyone else was watching him, he strode to the front door to greet the likely drowned person. Oh, this would be far too amusing.

With a devilish smirk, he leaned against the now opened door. He crossed his arms, barely keeping from chuckling with glee. His dark eyes took note of the beautiful—and now utterly ruined—dress the witch was wearing. She was returning from yet another disastrous date. The third one that week, in fact, by his estimate. Not that he kept track of her dates, mind you. However, his look of amusement quickly vanished when she awkwardly fell after having slipped in the mud.

He headed to her, not quite running but not walking so slowly either. He watched her grab her ankle, hearing her sniffle as she fought back the threatening tears. Soon after, he reached her, holding out his hand.

"Come on. Let's get you inside the castle, Sinistra, before you get struck by lightning as well." He caught the flash of anger in her eyes instantly, but said nothing. He slowly helped her to feet, only to hear her strangled scream as she started to fall again. Glancing at her ankle, he caught the bruise spreading and sighed. Lovely. She likely had a sprained ankle, if not broken it with her ridiculously high heels. He frowned before swiftly picking her up into his arms.

"What are you doing? Put me down, Snape!"

"Gladly. When we're inside the damn castle, woman," he growled. "Now, shut it or I'll leave you out here for the Dementors." He could see the creatures floating and watching them by the lake.

"Bastard," she grumbled, settling in his arms a moment later.

"Ungrateful witch." He carried her across the grounds and into the castle. However, instead of taking her up to the hospital wing or letting her down once inside, he carried her down to the dungeons.

He frowned, walking into his rooms with her still in his arms a moment after his portrait swung open. He set her down on his sofa then, quickly moving to look at her badly swollen ankle. Mentally deciding which potions she needed, he sighed. "Remain here."

"As if I'd go anywhere else," she snapped, running a hand through her disheveled hair.

He kept his tongue firmly between his teeth and headed for his private store. His dark eyes trailed over the various array of potions, plucking bruise paste and a mild analgesic potion from the shelves. Whirling around and causing his robes to billow, he headed back to his sitting room. He slowed as he heard her sniffling again. Her ankle couldn't have hurt that bad, but just in case he pulled out the stopper on the pain potion and handed it to her first.

He watched her drink it before she handed it back empty. He banished the vial, kneeling down to look at her ankle. The strong smells of raspberries—her perfume he assumed—and rain enveloped him.

"May I?" he asked quietly, motioning to her ankle. He waited until he received her jerky nod. He gently undid the strap to her shoe, removing the silver high heel a moment later. He lightly touched her deep bruise, glancing at her when he heard her sharp gasp of pain followed by a soft whimper. "I apologize," he said softly before he returned to his inspection. She clearly had a bad sprain. He grabbed the bruise paste, unscrewing the jar lid and scooping up a bit of the gooey substance inside. He did his best not to aggravate her ankle as he rubbed the paste on. A moment later, he ripped a large strip off his long flowing robes and wrapped it tightly around her foot to keep her from moving it.

"Thanks," she whispered, wiping at her eyes.

He merely inclined his head and stood up again. Taking the time to take her appearance in fully, he waited as she fought to hold back the tears. Her hair was badly disheveled, curls strewn about every which way and frizzing as it dried. Her makeup had run down her face, but he wasn't certain if it was from the rain or the tears. Completely and utterly ruined now, her lightly-colored chiffon evening gown was plastered to her ashen skin, leaving hardly anything to his imagination. He caught her shivering and frowned. She was going to catch her death if he left her in those clothes.

"Use my shower and warm up. I'll see if I can do anything about your dress in the meantime." He noticed her warm brown eyes narrowing on him in confusion. "A warming charm or even a drying charm at this point would make your dress shrink, and I imagine it's tight enough for you. Am I correct?" She nodded slowly. "Then, logically, you should change out of that dress, Sinistra." He pointed to his bathroom. "Go. Warm up. I'll have one of the house elves leave fresh clothes out for you." He watched her gradually stand before she limped to where he had instructed.

Once she had closed the door behind her and he could hear the shower running, he sighed, sitting down in his chair. His elbows dug into his legs as he held his head in his hands. Merlin. Didn't she already know that she was beautiful? That she didn't need to play dress up? The lengths he had seen her go to lately—he wondered if any man had ever truly told her how beautiful she was. He closed his eyes, groaning at the annoying voice that had become a constant companion to him now—saying that he could always tell her instead of continually sabotaging her dates.

He winced at the 'sabotage.' While it was unfortunately true that he had been the reason most—if not all—of her dates were disastrous, he didn't like the reminder. He had started his interference with her dates as a means to entertain himself, to get her back for all the times she had annoyed him greatly. Watching her come home entirely frustrated was rather amusing at first.

Only his so-called entertainment quickly developed into something more. It became a way to ensure that she'd not be with any 'unworthy man' in his opinion. He'd find out whom she was to meet—being a double agent did have its perks after all—and observe her said potential suitor, looking for reasons why this suitor wasn't good enough for her. He never let her know he was doing this, of course. So, to her, every date that was disastrous was likely because of something she did, not because he had intimidated the hell out of her date beforehand, had her date called away on phony business, locked him in a cupboard in the case of Date Number Six, or had sent him to the wrong restaurant like what had happened tonight with Kingsley Shacklebolt—a date that should've gone well by all means.

He dug his palms into his eyes and growled quietly. He was being a first-class bastard to her, and he knew it. His fists came down, hitting the armrests. Somehow, over the course of secretly watching her leave for her dates, sometimes at her dates, and after them, he had fallen for her. His head fell back against the back of his chair when he heard the water shut off. She was going to kill him, and she'd be in her right to. But, Merlin above, no man but him was worthy of her. He just had to prove it somehow.