NOTE
PLEASE READ THESE WARNINGS!
WARNING ONE: Part of this chapter deals with thoughts of self-harm, involving a knife. If you don't want to read it, skip from "He set the bowl down in front of me, with a spoon" to "I hid my face against my knees and drew a shuddering gasp."
WARNING TWO: Sexual content, with complicated moments where neither partner feels comfortable. This will probably be difficult to read, and is not meant to be arousing or pleasant whatsoever.
ALSO, There are mentions of the miscarriage and the assault, and references to cannibalism.
75. Old Wooden Wheelchair
The day was long and I was dirty, shaky and aching by the time we returned to the cottage at dusk. My body was exhausted from working so hard to keep up with two tall men, as a smaller woman. My head was strained and dense from attempting again and again to make my wand comply with my needs, and failing every time.
It had been snowing heavily since noon–cold, wet and hard–and I'd shivered uncontrollably even with the help of warming charms, which Severus had had to perform. He'd urged me throughout the day to allow him to take me back to the cottage. But I'd refused, driven on by sheer desperation.
More than once I'd fallen behind, leaning against the rough bark of a tree and fighting to control my breathing as more unpleasant twinges of pain echoed through my body. A combination, I assumed, of weakness, hunger, and the aftermath of the miscarriage. Severus would walk ahead with Bill at my insistence, but always circled back around to me, attempting again to persuade me to return to the cottage. He grew more insistent and demanding each time, angered by my refusal, and finally saying through gritted teeth that I was acting "like an obstinate teenager."
"If you thought that would work…" I told him sharply, as I forced my body to keep moving. But, deep down, I wasn't offended by his words. I knew they were true. I was angry at myself for slowing us down. I should have been resting. Should have been sleeping. But I wasn't. And I was unwilling to try.
By the time the sky darkened we had covered most of the forest in the central part of the lakes district, to no avail. Dusk fell thickly over the treetops, and the snow became even worse. We continued searching for half an hour, and it was with anxiety and reluctance that I took Severus's arm to apparate back to the cottage.
The snow had blanketed the field and the hill entirely, and the apple trees were draped in white like depressed brides. The sky was slightly lighter here in the open, snow clouds completely obscuring the stars, and the downstairs windows of the cottage were yellow with lamps and firelight.
My legs were very heavy as I walked through the snow to the front door, and I leaned against the wall of the small entryway, my heart stuttering like a broken toy as Severus melted the snow from my freezing boots and cloak, his wand movements brusque and resentful. Once my boots were dry I bent to take them off, and felt relieved when Severus went ahead of me into the kitchen without a word.
Bill gave me a look of deep concern. "Need help?" he asked, seeing how my cold, stiff fingers trembled over my laces.
"No thank you," I said. And he was silent for a moment before leaving me on my own.
Arthur, George and Ginny left as soon as we returned, to cover the ground we had not reached. One of us would have to stay awake in order to be alert to any patronuses they might send, requesting help during the night. Severus agreed to sit up, and I felt my belly coiling at the very thought of trying to sleep. The day's search had left my blood full of desperation and lingering adrenaline. All I wanted was to go directly back out again, even though I knew my body would buckle if I had to walk any more without sleep.
Ginny had made a big pot of soup, which sat simmering and stirring itself with a large wooden spoon on the cooktop, as well as a loaf of bread, on the cutting board. Bill sat to eat at once after the others left, leaving me alone with him and Severus. The food was tempting, and made my stomach rumble softly. But I needed a few minutes alone, and went upstairs to bathe.
I climbed the stairs and closed the door of the little bathroom, where I ran the bath. The water was steaming and I couldn't use magic to cool it off early. So, while I waited, I searched through the potions cabinet with shaking hands until I found some pain relief potion. I uncorked it and swallowed it with a hard gulp, hoping to ease the aches and pains in my lower belly and my joints.
I had undressed and was testing the water with my fingers when footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Severus knocked on the door. "Wilma?"
"What?" I said.
"I cannot leave you alone while you are so fragile."
My heartbeat quickened unpleasantly at the echo of my last dream. "Or are you too fragile?"
I knew it was not Severus's fault. He would never have wished or willed me to dream of our old student-professor relationship. But I couldn't help my desire to blame him for the disgusting feeling which now entered my belly.
I glared at the door. "I'm fine."
There was no response, but I could feel his storm of emotions through the door. A heavy moment passed, and then I heard him leave, his footsteps retreating down the hallway and the stairs again.
The water was ready, and I sank into it with a quiet, low moan. The water was warm and soothing to my dirty, sweaty body. My skin was so cold that it stung and itched a bit until it became used to the water's warmth. I scrubbed myself clean with a bar of soap while the potion slowly took effect. My joints were still tired and worn, and ached slightly. But at least the pain in my womb was gone.
I stepped out of the bath, my skin clean and slightly raw. I dried myself with a towel and wrapped it around my body as I walked into the bedroom, where I'd left a few changes of clothes the last time Severus and I had come here to stay for a weekend. I pulled on a baggy jumper and trousers, as well as long warm socks.
I gave my hair a final dry with the towel and, unable to ignore my stomach's growling any longer, went down the stairs, hardening myself against whatever tension I would have to endure. At least Bill would be there, as a buffer.
Severus was standing alone in the kitchen, stirring something in a small bowl. Despite the warm light of the lamp which hung over the table, his eyes appeared completely black as they found and pinned mine.
"Did you take something for the pain?" he questioned.
"I did," I said, unable to look away from him, and struggling against the sensation of wavering emotion and numbness behind my eyes. "Where's Bill?"
Severus approached me, holding the small bowl in one hand. "For the bruising," he said bluntly.
"Where's Bill?" I repeated.
"He left a short while ago. Kingsley requested that one of us join the search for Baddock. Will you please use this?" He offered me the bowl again and I stared at its contents, a thin liquid that smelled strongly of lavender.
It sank in that Bill was gone. That it was just me and Severus alone in the house. It should have been a comfort to me, being back here. But it wasn't.
I took the small bowl in both hands and went to stand in the corner near the steaming pot of soup. I turned towards the wall as I rubbed the oil into the tender skin of my neck, and lifted my jumper enough to take care of the bruises on my belly.
My appetite was gone.
I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Not Remus. Not the miscarriage. All I knew was that I needed to be moving. Actively searching and taking part. Otherwise I would shrink and deform into an old crone; a stone; a useless, dead, rotten apple.
My body shook with sudden tears. The wooden floor creaked and I flinched as I turned around. Severus had taken a single step forward, but now kept still, looking at me silently, the slightest openness threatening to enter his eyes. I didn't speak. I went to the kitchen door and pulled it open, stepping out into the freezing snow in my stocking feet and leaning against the side of the house, crying my heart out.
The door opened wider behind me, letting the lamplight fall out onto the white snow. "Stop following me!" I sobbed.
"I will not have to follow you if I know where you are." Severus paused for a moment, and I could physically sense him resisting the urge to touch me. "Come inside."
I weakly turned around and looked at him, ashamed by my uncontrollable crying. He put his hands out for me, and I shrank. He stayed very still. I resented my own smallness as I slowly put my hands in his. His fingers closed firmly but gently around mine, and he led me back into the kitchen, closing the door against the cold of the night. He used his wand to dry my socks.
I kept crying softly with a wheezing sound, and covered my face with my hands. "Wilma," Severus said, his voice attempting to ground me. He pulled me into an embrace, one hand pressing against my waist. But I twisted away from him and stumbled out of the kitchen to the sitting room, where a fire was burning.
Guilt hardened in my belly. I could feel Severus's presence in the other room. He had made me something to help the bruises. He had kept me from the cold… had tolerated my childishness all day long… and my first instinct had been to run away from him.
I was an awful person.
I gasped quietly, my throat remaining tight and painful until I finally managed to breathe deeply again.
My self hatred sank into the background, among many other swirling emotions, and a soft numbness surrounded my mind. I took a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around myself, pulling it tightly around my shoulders, hoping to ease some of the panic in my body. Slowly, as I stood still staring into the flames in the fireplace, my heart calmed. I realised that Severus was not going to follow me, and I allowed the sense of solitude to fall over me like another blanket, as snow falls over a gravestone.
I shuffled slowly across the floor, like an old person afraid to move too quickly lest they injure themselves. The upright piano stood against the wall, the flickering firelight casting the shadows of the taller black keys on the white ones. I touched the cold ivory key at the lowest end, and pressed it down very slowly, so that there was only a soft thudding sound from inside the instrument. Then I touched another, and a quiet, deep note whispered through the room.
I withdrew my hand and tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
My gaze fell on the wooden wheelchair in the corner, with the slight dent in its wicker back. It had struck me as strange, even sad, when I'd first seen it. But now it looked oddly welcoming. It looked like it could understand me.
I went to it, and sat down on the seat, slowly and carefully. There was a soft creaking whine from the old wooden wheels, but once I had situated my entire weight into the chair, it was silent again.
I sat there staring into space for a long moment.
I had been right. This was where I belonged.
My hands escaped the tightness of the blanket and found the tops of the smooth wooden wheels. I pushed forward, and the wheels moved with a loud creaking sound, making the wheelchair roll slightly forward across the smooth floorboards. I looked down at the floor as it moved between my feet. There was a rickety, unstable feeling that went along with the creaking. But some small and distant part of me liked it.
Footsteps sounded in the other room, but I didn't really hear them. I did, however, hear Severus's voice, after a long pause.
"If you plan to recover," he said, "it would be in your best interest to stop treating yourself as an invalid."
My eyebrows furrowed slightly and I stared at my sock for a moment longer before lifting my eyes to him. I looked at him blankly, only barely following his words. I couldn't tell whether he was reprimanding me, or showing me a very strange sense of humour.
I looked down at the floor again and wheeled myself backwards into the corner. The loud creaking sound was embarrassing now. Finally there was quiet again, only the sound of the logs being slowly consumed by the fire, clicking and hissing. I sat there in the shadows, my limp hands touching the wooden wheels.
"Come and eat," Severus said.
I kept very still, and waited until he had left the doorway before standing up. I kept the blanket around my shoulders–the pressure was helping me cope–and went on quiet feet into the kitchen, which was much brighter from the lamp.
I stepped towards the soup pot myself, but Severus pointed firmly to a chair. I looked down at the floor. "Perhaps don't treat me like an invalid," I muttered. But he ignored me, ladling some soup into a bowl, and I sat down silently in the chair he'd pointed to.
He set the bowl down in front of me, with a spoon. The soup showed the slight slant of the table, sitting at an angle in the bowl.
Severus sat down two chairs away from me, resting his elbow on the table, his hand over his eyes as he sighed tensely.
I avoided looking at him by letting my eyes wander around the kitchen. My gaze fell upon a knife Ginny had left out for the bread.
I blinked.
The knife had begun to hover off of the cutting board. It floated higher. Then it came towards me, very slowly, its sharp edge gleaming in the lamplight. I stared at the knife, cold terror trickling through my bones.
"What are you doing?" Seveurs said sharply.
"Nothing…"
My voice shook.
The knife hovered closer.
My mounting fear forced me to my feet, the chair scraping against the floor, and my legs trembled as I backed away from the table. Severus shot me a violent look, his eyes hard with anger and concern. "I'm not doing it!" I whispered.
My eyes flickered to the gleaming knife, its point aimed towards my body. And for an instant I wondered if perhaps part of me wanted it to come closer. Wanted to test its sharpness against–
No!
I looked back at Severus in a panic, suddenly clutching my wrist tightly, desperate to unthink the intrusive thought.
He looked at me intensely, and I knew at once that he had seen my mind. He strode towards me suddenly, and my arms immediately wrapped around my body. I cowered back against the wall and the sound of the glass of the lamp shattering hid my quiet yelp of fear. The room was cast in darkness, the knife no more than a shadow. My heart was pounding. I had irrationally thought, for a moment, that Severus was going to hurt me. I hid myself in the corner behind the table and hugged my knees. There was the smallest flash of betrayal in Severus's eyes, in the moment before he looked away from me, shielding me from the floating knife with his body.
I watched, my hands shaking, as he made the knife stop in midair and gripped the handle, vanishing it entirely.
I hid my face against my knees and drew a shuddering gasp. My next exhale was a quiet, broken sob. I wrapped my arms around my legs and hugged myself tightly as I cried, whimpering pitifully and beyond caring.
The floor creaked as Severus knelt down in front of me and touched my shoulders. "Let me hold you," he said, his voice shaking slightly, unsteady in its deepness.
When I looked up at him, his eyes were full of the same terror I felt. The same loss of control. My limbs loosened automatically and his hands pulled me urgently towards him. He hugged my body tightly against his, and I could feel the hammering of his heart, the difficulty with which he controlled his breathing. I sobbed brokenly, still keeping my hands in tight fists of anxiety close to my chest as he held me.
It took a minute for my body to relax enough. But once it did, I wrapped my arms around him and held him closer. My breath burst out of me in a painful groan, and tears poured down my face. Despite my initial urge to wriggle away, it felt good to be held so firmly. It was the effect I'd been attempting to achieve with the blanket.
All of the fear was being twisted and wrung out of me, and I panted with relief as Severus squeezed me tightly.
"I love you," he said, the weakness in his voice more pronounced now. "I cannot be without you." His hand was stroking my hair and I was overwhelmed, shutting my eyes tight as I struggled to handle the emotion radiating from his body. "You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you."
His words calmed me, even though I knew there was no way he could ensure they would prove true.
We sat clutching each other desperately for a long time. Slowly I stopped shaking and crying. Severus began to repeat the same movement of stroking my hair over and over, seemingly calmed by the gesture as much as I was. Behind him, the shattered glass mended itself and the lamplight slowly glowed back to life.
He was breathing steadily again, and when he spoke his voice was back to normal, only betraying slightly more feeling than it usually did. "Please try to eat something. It may help."
I breathed him in for a moment more before untangling my limbs and standing up slowly, avoiding a rush of blood to the head. I pressed my fingertips to my cheeks, which felt tight and stretched from the dried tears. I sniffled a little as Severus stood as well, and I went over to the bowl of soup that sat on the table, still untouched.
The first bite was the most difficult. Then my stomach growled, and I ate the rest hungrily. When the bowl was empty I had another small ladleful and ate more patiently, leaning against the cabinets.
Severus watched me exhaustedly, and I watched him in return.
The incident with the knife had forced an acknowledgement of all that we had suffered together in the past few days, and the air felt slightly clearer than it had earlier, during our search of the woods. This easing of tension was why I was not upset by what he said next. "I really would prefer to hold onto your wand."
His eyes were dark and cautious, but the lamplight caught the hints of amber within them. I swallowed, and took my wand from my pocket, handing it to him across the table. A silent apology was transferred from my fingers to the wand as I let it go. But I had been frightened out of my wits, and out of my stubbornness, by the knife incident. And if there was any chance at all that my wand was responsible for these uncontrollable outbursts, I finally agreed that it was better for me to be separated from it.
I finished eating, and then Severus offered his hand. "Bed?" he asked.
I nodded my head, remembering how Poppy had prescribed six hours of sleep or more, and took Severus's hand. We climbed the creaky stairs to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, looking at the clean white blankets, I was reminded of how the others were out searching for the werewolf camp, through the long, snowy night. I felt suddenly hesitant to rest.
"How are the bruises?" I asked, wanting to put it off a minute longer.
He looked at my neck quickly and quietly. "Almost gone," he said. "Do you want more of the ointment?"
"Yes, please."
He summoned the bowl and it hovered into the room. He held it in his hands while I rubbed more of the ointment onto my neck and my belly–where the bruises were a soft and faded purple colour.
"Thank you," I said, when I was finished.
"I will leave it here." He placed the bowl on the bedside table, and pulled down the covers.
I trembled slightly, but there was no avoiding it. And I knew that if I argued, Severus would not hesitate to force me to take a vial of dreamless sleep. I climbed under the blankets and pulled the second pillow against my chest to hug. Severus touched my hair gently, but did not join me in the bed. He had promised to stay awake, to receive any potential patronuses the others might have to send in the night.
An anxious, lonely feeling swelled in my chest, and I held onto his shirt suddenly, like a child, as he pulled the blankets up around me.
"I will be downstairs if you need me," he said evenly.
He bent down quietly and kissed my forehead; and before he could stand up, I pulled him closer and pressed my lips to his mouth.
Very softly. And only for a moment.
His eyes were dark in the dark room, but despite their guardedness there was a certain warmth in them as he looked at me.
"Can I still call you Sev?" I asked quietly.
His hand gently pressed against my hair. "That permission was not conditional." I watched him silently. "Sleep," he murmured. And then he left, going out the door and closing it behind him.
I heard his footsteps on the stairs and hugged the pillow closer under the bed covers, attempting to relax my body.
There was no sound in the house, except for the silence–which was, in itself, a sound–as the snow fell all around, and thickened on the roof overhead.
I remembered the feeling of Severus's lips, so brief and cautious, and pressed my mouth into the coolness of the pillowcase.
I closed my eyes, but as soon as I did I was greeted by the images that the day had left in my mind. Remus walking up the beach. Dirty, haggard, hurt. Phoebe's malnourished body, swimming in his clothes.
Phoebe was safe at the Burrow with Molly. But Remus…
I kept imagining him, tied up in a hole somewhere, helpless and in pain. Was he alone now? Were Greyback and Magnus hurting him? How? My heart beat faster and I lay awake, full of terror.
It may have been half an hour before there were footsteps on the stairs again, and Severus quietly pushed the door inward. I shifted in the bed and looked at him from under the covers. "I can't sleep," I said, my voice laced with frustration.
This was silly. Trying to sleep while Remus was out there alone and cold and starving, as he had been for months now…
My thoughts made me sit up, but Severus put out his hand, still standing in the doorway. "Please wait," he said, a bit firmly. "I'll be right back."
I stayed put in bed, feeling restless and slightly nauseous. He returned a minute later with a vial in his hand, which winked in the very slight light coming from the hallway outside. Severus closed the door behind him and I sat up rigidly against the headboard. "I'm not taking that."
He looked mildly exasperated, behind a thin mask of patience. "It's only draught of peace. You will still be able to dream."
He approached the bedside and uncorked the vial, but I shook my head. "I don't want to take anything."
I saw the hesitation in his eyes, but he did not argue. His movements were quiet and quick as he replaced the cork and set the vial on the bedside table. "If I come back in ten minutes and you're not asleep, I will have to insist."
He turned again to leave, but I sat up on my elbow, my heart thudding. "Severus? Will you stay?"
He looked at me silently for a moment. Then he returned to the side of the bed. "I will," he said. "But the ten minutes still stands."
I nodded my head and moved the blankets over my body so that he could come in beside me. He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his socks one by one, and I watched the subtle movements of his back in the darkness. He turned and I held his hand tightly, bringing his arm around my body as he shifted closer. He pulled the blankets over us both and his elbow settled against my waist, his hand still holding mine against my chest. I felt his quiet, warm breath against my hair, and my foot hooked around his calf as my body sought out more of his warmth.
He felt so still and calm and stable.
My nightmarish thoughts had faded, but I still felt anxious, and my heart was beating quickly. I listened to the soft sounds of Severus's breathing, and to the silence of the snow outside. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine that the circumstances were different… that it was months before now, or perhaps another time entirely… a time which had never existed. That we were quietly lying together here, with no hunt going on, no Greyback, no captives.
But the illusion was poorly constructed, and I continued to lie awake as the minutes flowed all too swiftly by. The silence became oppressive, and I couldn't help but feel the warm touch of Severus's clothed body. His hand around mine, his chest pressing gently into my back, his knees…
Quiet, I scolded my thoughts. He was very unlikely to desire me after what had happened in the woods, and I felt a coiling of vague disgust at myself for feeling even a bit aroused. I'd kissed him earlier, but his response had been strictly chaste. I tried to convince myself that it was only his nearness that was making me feel this way. Only a desire to be held and protected.
But from that moment forward my mind was occupied by thoughts of intimacy, which evoked anxiety rather than pleasure. I shifted one hand up to my forehead and pressed it firmly, as though this might help to ease some of the thoughts. But of course it didn't help. Severus's hand tightened very cautiously around my own. Driven by a maddening heat in my belly I turned towards him and, without looking at his eyes, pressed my lips to his again.
The kiss itself stirred no feeling within me. It was as though I were kissing a stranger. A passionless stranger, for whom I felt no passion myself.
And yet, however distant, the sensation of soft flesh on soft flesh made my heart race.
I drew back and looked at Severus's eyes, their sudden heavy darkness, and couldn't help the continued thoughts of sex… Severus on top of me… Severus's hands clutching my small naked body against him… Both of us sweating and moving and moaning…
A small muscle in his jaw tightened, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, infuriating for its unreadability. "Are you looking at my thoughts?" I breathed.
"You're practically throwing them at me."
The hardened, slightly frustrated look in his eyes inspired a desperate hope between my legs. I didn't understand where this feeling was coming from… perhaps a need to feel something visceral, to escape my mind for a while… but I didn't care. Trembling, I kissed him again.
He did not respond. Worry twisted around my throat and I breathed slowly for a moment, my lips hovering over his skin as I searched his eyes. I tried to palm his trousers, but he restrained my wrist with his hand. "It will not help," he said. "And afterward you will resent me."
But his voice was even darker, and so were his eyes, heavy with temptation. I selfishly wanted to replace my body with his, and I wanted reassurance that he still wanted me… even some small part of him.
I ran my fingers urgently through his hair and kissed him again. Finally I felt the movement of his lips in response, and the faintest, faintest twitch in his trousers when I pressed my inner thigh to his lower abdomen. My breath hitched and I touched my tongue to the corner of his mouth, shifting my hips slightly as I tried to roll on top of him.
He held me back again, his hand pushing me away by my elbow. His voice was rough in the darkness. "Wilma, I will not do that to you."
A flash of painful coldness cut through my belly at his phrasing, and I responded in a small, shaking voice. "You're not doing anything to me that I don't want."
His grip loosened slightly and I looked at him desperately as I lifted my jumper over my head. I tried to lead his hand to my breast, but he pushed my hand away, and when I tried to kiss him again he stood up from the bed. I clung to his shoulders and was dragged to the edge of the mattress, my legs dangling over as I tried to wrap my ankles around his knees. Silently he pushed me down, pinning me to the bed with his hand pressed between my breasts. I felt the pressure of his hand going into my sternum and gasped as his hip pressed against my inner thigh. I could feel him beginning to grow hard. My body was unusually sensitive and a soft, anxious sound escaped my lips, to my embarrassment.
What in Godric's name am I doing?
I looked at him, my eyes wide, my lips slightly parted, and felt a wave of dread as he shifted his hips so I could not feel his growing hardness. His hand against my chest was overwhelming, and I held his wrist with both hands, panting slightly as my eyes drilled into his.
His gaze grazed down to my breasts, and I saw him swallow softly as he looked back into my eyes. "You need to go to sleep," he said, his voice controlled, but undeniably husky.
I tightened my grip on his wrist, the pulse between my legs frightening me. Was he going to leave?
"Why are you pushing me away?" I asked.
I tried to reach up and caress his face but he caught my hand and pressed it against my heaving belly. "You've cowered away from me and kissed me in the space of an hour. One of them is not real. And I don't believe it's the former."
"They're both real," I protested.
My body struggled to come free of his restraining hands, but he momentarily tightened his grip. "No," he said, warningly.
"Don't tell me what I'm feeling," I said, in a strangled voice.
"Remember what Poppy said."
I had forgotten, and for a moment his words gave me pause. But the thought of being left untouched now made me want to cry. I knew that the feeling in my belly was more nausea and anxiety than arousal… but I desperately needed reassurance that I could still touch, could still be touched, without feeling completely broken.
"We can still touch, can't we?" I asked quietly.
There was a moment of heated silence. His eyes were as dark as a hawk's as he looked into mine, and I could feel him sifting through my mind. I realised he was trying to be sure that I really did want him. I felt my heart stutter nervously–I wasn't sure of my own feelings, but I needed to be close to him… closer… as close as I could.
There was a pause. Then his presence retreated, and he looked at me with worry and pity in the thin line of his mouth. As though he had concluded that there was something wrong with me.
"Sev…" I said quietly. "Please."
His breath caught, and the pressure of his hand on my sternum decreased just enough. I pulled myself up against him, pressing my naked breasts into his shirt. I tugged at the fabric, silently asking permission to take it off. Severus watched me with a terrible wanting in his eyes, along with a deep melancholy. He seemed trapped in a limbo of inaction as I lifted his shirt over his head. I looked at him, my nose and throat hot with distress at his indecision. His lips remained unparted, and he breathed silently through his nose. I bent my head and planted gentle kisses on his chest. The feeling of his warm skin was a relief. "I can still do this," I said to him, between kisses. "We can still do this…"
"What about Lupin?"
I felt my eyes darken. I withdrew and stared at Severus blankly, my mind and body silenced completely by the question, and his suddenly venomous tone.
My hesitation lasted too long for Severus, and I felt his presence enter my mind again, more aggressively than the first time. I looked at him without emotion, without even a bit of defiance, as he sought the answer to his question. But he only encountered what I myself was grappling with. Genuine uncertainty and confusion.
He withdrew, and I felt that his body was tense, his breath shallow.
"That isn't fair, you know," I said numbly, momentarily dissociating from the fact that we were both half naked, and I was clinging to his body. "I wonder if you would survive, if that ability was taken away."
His jaw twitched. "You don't seem to realise how often I refrain from using it."
"But you do, when you feel compelled."
He did not answer, and I looked at him sharply.
Escaping the uncomfortable moment, I kissed his chest again, pressing my fingertips to his collarbones. But the anxiety which had filled my belly earlier only spread to the rest of my body as I struggled to reconnect to the sense of ease we'd fought so hard to attain together in bed. My lips desperately trembled over the thin white scars on Severus's neck, and I kissed his mouth softly and despairingly.
The chained look in his eyes did not alter, but he began to breathe again, and I felt the soft movement of his lips against mine. I trembled and traced his ribs with my fingers. His hand pressed into my lower back, and I shook. He broke the kiss and watched my eyes for any change as his hand stroked my side, and came up to carefully cup my breast.
My heartbeat seemed to pause for a moment. My breasts were not tender or swollen anymore. I sensed the difference, and I could see from the very slight tension in his face that Severus could, too. I pulled away enough to hold my other breast with my own hand, pressing on it questioningly. I looked down at them. They were a little smaller, and they didn't hurt at all.
No more baby.
There was a moment of silence. And it was the first thing we had truly shared in a long time.
Severus broke it gently. "You don't want to do this."
"I need to." My breasts were hard, and I felt an awful heat between my legs.
"Do you want to?"
I didn't think about the question. I couldn't think. I could barely feel, but what I could feel I needed to hold on to… needed to use, or I would go mad.
I nodded my head.
I held my breath and looked down at his hand, still gently cupping my breast.
At last he sighed, very quietly.
"I will touch you," he said. "But I will not be inside you. It could cause you harm."
Something uncomfortable bloomed in my stomach. "Okay," I said.
I slipped off the edge of the bed and curled my fingers around the waistband of his trousers, gently unbuttoning them and tugging them down. I knelt at Severus's feet to help slip them off, and then stood up again, feeling the pounding of my heart. He held one of my hands to support me as I shuffled out of my own trousers and knickers.
The snow was still floating down outside the window, and some soft flakes pressed against the glass pane. There was no wind.
Severus ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my nose gently, going very slowly, as though waiting at any moment for me to stop him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and led him back to the bed, sitting up on the edge and pulling his hips between my legs. I pressed my open mouth to his collarbone, licking his skin, and stroked the backs of his knees with my ankles.
He shivered.
His arms wrapped around my back, his hands stroking my shoulder blades as he lowered me backward onto the bed. As he came over me I tensed a bit, with a sharp breath inward, and my knees lifted, nudging his sides. He pushed himself up on his hands, his eyes flicking between mine. "Sorry," I whispered. "I'm okay."
He climbed onto the bed and took my hands. "Lean back against me," he said.
I nodded, and he pulled my back flush against his chest. My body felt small in his hands, and he was careful with me, pressing and pulling gently until I was seated between his legs. I could feel his growing hardness against my lower back, and my heart beat a fast and ugly rhythm. I felt it in my neck and struggled not to start crying.
I had become accustomed to Severus losing control with me, in a gentle, sexy way. But now he was in complete control of himself. Too much. He was doing this for me, and that was precisely what I didn't want.
He stroked my breasts and kissed my shoulder, his movements considered and deliberate. My body was as still as a dormant volcano as his hands travelled down my torso to my hips, which his thumbs gently circled, sending arctic chills down to my knees.
I parted my legs, and his hands slid slowly along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I looked down, watching his fingers as though hypnotised. The sight made me suddenly nauseous, and I looked away, letting my head roll back against his shoulder. My neck twisted as my mouth sought out his. My nose brushed his jaw, and he turned to rub his lips against my face, over my forehead, my flushed cheeks, finally pressing his mouth to mine.
As he kissed me his fingers slowly moved between my legs. I gasped into his mouth and my hips tightened and shook at the feeling of his fingers, tenderly pressing my small pearl of nerves.
"Still alright?" he said.
There was a stone of anxiety in my belly, and his touch felt like a hot iron, but I nodded my head and kissed him again.
Slowly he began to move his fingertips in small circles, his other hand resting, hot, on my inner thigh. I opened my mouth and panted. I could feel him growing harder.
He was trying to be gentle, but the softness of his movements was causing me pain. I needed it rougher. I needed a touch that was strong enough to erase my memory. I wove my fingers through those of his resting hand and led it deeper between my legs. I felt the hesitation in the muscles of his arm before he slowly pushed one finger inside of me. There was unexpected resistance, and I let out a muffled groan.
Severus's chest was rising and falling more quickly, and I could feel his erection, firm and warm, against the small of my back. "We need to be careful."
"I'm okay," I insisted, defying both Severus and myself.
His finger deepened and curled, finding my spot of roughness. I bit down on my lower lip, tears springing to my eyes. His lips touched my temple questioningly, and I nodded my head with a broken hum.
His finger slowly stroked my tight walls, while the two fingers of his other hand kept up their small, quick circles. Air caught in my throat and my belly tightened like a drum with the effort it took to keep breathing. The blankets rustled as my heels shifted restlessly, a tense groan vibrating in my throat.
I felt disconnected from my voice. My mind was rapidly slipping away from my body, and I twisted desperately, kissing Severus again and holding onto the undersides of his knees, trying to drag myself out of an emotional quagmire.
What about Lupin?
The words echoed through my body, sending a fresh wave of nauseating heat through me. Severus's fingers made a quiet clicking sound against me, and I squirmed. The whole room was filled with my heat and my poisonous scent, and it was difficult to breathe. His stroking finger was making me ache unpleasantly. I gasped urgently, feeling my chin quivering, and suddenly grabbed his wrists to stop him.
His finger stilled inside of me and his voice, though breathless, was stern and upset. "Am I hurting you?"
"No," I murmured.
I felt him trying to use Legilimency, and failing. I was surprised to realise that he was too weak to reach far enough into my mind. His hands withdrew from my body and rested on my hips. I felt my wetness on his fingers and bit back a whimper.
"Wilma," he said. "Do you feel safe right now?"
"I'm okay," I said quietly.
Severus's hands seemed to grow heavier. "You feel…" he began, his voice reluctant. "You're tense. You're… you're tight."
I flinched a bit, and wrapped my hands around his wrists again, slipping my fingers between his. "Please… keep going…"
He sighed a short, sharp sigh. "As you wish."
He kissed my shoulder again, and his hands went back between my legs, his finger sinking slightly deeper, more slowly. I groaned, my head dizzy and heavy, and I tightly held his arm as he touched me. I wasn't sure what I was feeling, exactly. But there was a very deep and primal part of me which was disgusted, rather than pleased.
My body shivered as Severus's fingers pressed against my nub. I didn't have control over the delicate muscles inside of myself, and my hips just kept tensing and tightening more and more, with no end in sight. The feeling of his rigid erection behind me was becoming too much. I bit down hard on my lip and gasped with pain.
Severus's hands removed themselves from my body completely. "I'm stopping this," he said, his voice hot and dark.
I turned around, clinging to him before he could push me away.
"Please!" I whispered, my clitoris throbbing insanely.
A cold voice inside of me spoke. Bad idea. This is stupid. And selfish.
And another, sweating and hot, replied. But I need it.
Severus pushed my shoulders away, but gently, and I knew this was not a complete rejection. My eyes searched his, but the still, dark depths revealed nothing, leaving me desperate. He seemed to be about to speak, but was stopped when the tip of his erection accidentally slid against the slickness between my legs.
I felt my mind burning, curling and hot and disappearing into pale ash. I whimpered softly, and instinctively tried to sit myself over him. He felt it, and pushed me back, his hand pressed to my belly, forcing me to rest on his thighs. His erection stood just a hair's breadth from my crux.
"Don't," he warned.
"Sev…"
He trembled.
"I need you…"
"Stop," he said, and his tone was so near a bark that I recoiled. "Don't do that. Don't beg me."
Tears sprang to my eyes and sudden guilt tightened around my throat like a noose. "Okay," I whispered.
I tried to hide my shock at his sudden sharpness, but he saw it and softened. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice more gentle than before, but still rough and guarded.
He hugged me closer and I heard myself moan at the feeling of him nestled in the crook of warmth where my upper thigh met my pelvis. My fingers tightened around his shoulders, and he shook slightly, a single panting exhale betraying his desire. With a bitten-back moan, Severus kissed my cheek, and then lowered his head to my chest, his tongue flicking against my nipples.
My next groan got caught in my throat. I was full of want, which made no sense, because fear still outweighed arousal in my rushing bloodstream.
Why are you doing this. Why are you doing this.
Keep going.
Minding the firmness of my movements, I pressed my hands against Severus's chest, silently asking him to lie back on the bed. At any moment I knew he might shove me away… but he didn't. I had no control and Severus, for the first time, was unable to take over. I breathed weakly and shuffled myself downward over his body, watching his dark eyes. I held myself up with my hands on his lower abdomen, and he grunted softly, his temple twitching as he kept his eyes open.
Nausea roiled in my belly, but the accompanying heat was driving me to stubbornness. Lowering my eyelids so my vision softened, I began to lower my mouth towards him, but Severus stopped me, pressing the heel of his hand to my forehead. "You don't have to do that," he said quickly. Frustration flooded me, as I saw that he didn't even want me to try. I pressed against his hand, but he pulled me up by my arms. "Wilma, no," he commanded.
I looked up at him, my sensitive heart completely defeated. I felt empty and unwanted, but kept my emotions tightly hidden behind the numbness which covered the surface of my eyes like ice. "I want you to feel good."
Severus seemed unable to respond.
I crawled up again, my lips against his chest, begging for some release from the awful numbness in my heart. I took my hand and rubbed my palm against my own wetness, wanting to use it. Then I gripped him, rubbing him up and down as I pushed my tense forehead into his shoulder. He groaned, and his hips bucked upward, the tip of him pushing through my grip and touching my thigh.
My hand opened and withdrew as though burned. I thought I would be sick, and shifted my face away from the heat of his body, breathing over the coolness of the sheets. The hand that had held him was trembling, remembering the feeling of Rookwood's damp skin as I'd severed his manhood from his body. Deep in the back of my throat, I tasted the scent of burning flesh.
Don't think about it.
I gave it another try, my hand moving between our bodies and wrapping around him again.
But I couldn't do it. The memory was in my hand, not my mind. I made a sound that completely betrayed my nausea and anxiety, and was forced to press both hands into the bedcovers.
"You're pushing yourself," Severus said. "We need to stop." His hands were gentle on my shoulders, but his voice was trembling slightly, as though on the verge of breaking into cruelty.
"No!" I protested, raising my voice for the first time, struggling to keep my head above the vast ocean of emotional pain in my body.
I tried to kiss him again, but he pushed me away, his eyes black with conflicting desire and reason. "Wilma, you're trying to prove something to me," he snapped, his voice finally acquiring that sharpness I'd been fearing. "This is not going to help you!"
I shivered, and my stomach turned over.
"Please," I moaned, on the verge of tears. I was ashamed of myself now. I was trying to prove something. But the shame and the nausea didn't erase the absolute and awful need in my body. I'd pushed too far, and now there was no escape.
"We can stop," Severus said, seemingly able to read my thoughts now.
But I refused to listen.
My eyes were burning as my hand slipped down towards his hardness again. But before my fingertips could touch him, he was pushing me over, onto my back. For a dreadful moment I thought he would leave me here alone. Then he was dragging me down to the foot of the bed, and his face was between my legs.
"Sev!" I wailed, as his tongue swept firmly between my folds. White stars flashed in my vision. He placed one arm firmly across my hips, keeping my writhing body in place, and sucked on me ruthlessly, my sensitive flesh pinned against the roof of his mouth as his tongue administered precise, repetitive strokes. His name became the only word in existence, and I cried it out over and over as my hips fluttered beneath the firm trap of his arm. My hands were stuck in painful fists, and my toes curled so desperately that my feet cramped. The heat was suffocating. His tongue worked harder… it burned... and my thighs tightly hugged the sides of his head as I was wheeled towards the precipice, like a corpse to a mass grave, weeping more than moaning. His groans vibrated through my sensitive wet nub, and I finished with an agonised cry of bitter relief, which gave way to hoarse gasps.
Shaking and seizing, I pushed myself up onto my elbows to look down. My legs were trembling and open, and Severus was between them, pressing his mouth into the exposed sheet. His shoulders were shaking, and he was panting. I pushed myself towards him, to the edge of the bed, and my organs seemed weightless, lifted by a momentary wave of confusion, as I saw that he had finished in his own hand.
Discomfort pumped through my veins with each laboured heartbeat and I shivered as I looked at him. The nausea which had briefly subsided, along with every other nameable sensation during my orgasm, now returned tenfold. Severus's face was harrowed and set, and he did not look at me as he stood up and pulled his trousers on.
For a hellish few seconds, there was nothing.
The snow fell outside.
Silently.
"I will not do that again." His voice was dark and deep, and his words were final. "I will not fuel your weakness."
I stared at him, unable to tell whether I was full of numbness or pain.
He pulled his shirt on, hiding his body from me. There was the slightest hesitation, the slightest apology, in his movements. I could feel it in the air that he regretted his words. But we both knew they were true, and he did not apologise for them. Did not look at me.
Weakness.
My heart was hollow. A rotted apple.
My body's release was not something I could thank him for. Our mutual loss of control had been my fault, unquestionably. But I could see that Severus blamed himself.
We had made a mistake. We had ruined one another here, on this bed. Ruined everything.
I turned away and rested my head on the pillow; and the weakness of the movement drew a deep, mournful sob out of me.
My emotions were somewhere else. All I could feel was the clenching in my stomach as I cried.
These were pitiful, whimpering tears.
I was weak. I had heard my inner voice warning me to stop, and allowed it to be strangled by insecurity and childish need.
Severus's hand appeared before me, holding the uncorked vial of draught of peace. I made no response. I just wanted him to go away. He pulled me up like a rag doll, and his thumb pressed against my lower lip as he tipped the vial into my mouth. Giving up, I swallowed the bitter potion, and slumped forward against him.
His hands were deft and emotionless as he laid me down and pulled the blankets over my naked body. The last thing I knew before sleep took me was Severus closing the door as he left the room.
"Better than I'd hoped," Magnus growled.
His voice was dark and gravelly in the small space of the earthen cave, the walls and exposed roots warm with the light of a small fire. Magnus sat opposite Greyback, and a long, lean skeleton was laid out upon the table between them.
Greyback licked his bloody lips with a sickening purr of agreement, and Magnus continued, his hand resting on his stomach.
"Wanted to do it since I first saw him. Pity he never served his purpose."
Greyback's eyes shone. "Filling our stomachs was purpose enough. Boy!"
Gavin appeared at the front of the cave, holding a long elm wand in his small pale fist. His face was thin from hunger, but his eyes contained a desperation which was nearly fanatic. The control he'd acquired over his magic, under Greyback's guidance, had numbed him to the evil he was forced to use it for.
The small boy looked at the skeleton between the two werewolves, and looked to Greyback for his orders.
"Bury the bones."
Gavin's wrist was steady as he aimed his wand, and the skeleton hovered off of the table and into the dank air of the cave. The bones, recently deprived of flesh and muscle and blood and organ, followed the small boy into the snowy darkness of the night, and around the rear of the cave. The skeleton came to rest on the ground, and a wave of the long elm wand brought a deep hole into existence, between two tall black trees. The bones silently lifted, and then fell into the hole together with a dull clatter, losing all order and structure. Another wave of the wand, and the hole was filled in with earth, as though it had never been.
Gavin returned to the mouth of the cave. Greyback and Magnus had vanished everything within. The table. Even the ashes of the wood which had fed the fire.
The werewolves stood side by side, their eyes dark and sated from their filling meal. The lingering blood in their teeth showed black in the darkness.
"The time has come for us to leave," Greyback said to the boy. "Bring your brother."
I woke up alone, in a cold sweat.
NOTE
As always, please let me know if I can improve my content warnings. I am so, so sorry for how dark and difficult the story has become. It will get better, but it will take a while. As it does in life.