Chapter Six: Starving
The next thing I knew, Snape and I stood together on a cobblestoned street under a brilliantly clear canopy of stars, and I wondered trivially how he had surpassed the apparition enchantments on Arawn's house. We must have traveled at least several miles away - the thunderstorm was nowhere to be found. Although the nighttime breeze was heavy with the flavor of mud and dampness, I swallowed it hungrily, welcoming the outside air into my lungs for the first time in weeks. I was still wrapped in Snape's arms as he ushered me forward towards a thin brick house, keeping me partially concealed beneath his cloak until we were past the threshold and the door was shut behind him.
Abruptly, he pulled away from me, stepping into a poorly lit room that, by its size, could have been mistaken for a very large closet. The scent of leather and dust was everywhere, emanating from the display of leatherbound books that covered the walls from floor to ceiling, yearning to be read. In one corner sat an armchair; in another, a sofa - both yellowing, tattered, and worse for wear. There appeared to be no way into or out of the room apart from the front door through which we had just come, until Snape flicked his wand at a section of the bookshelves. The wall responded by swinging open to unveil a hidden staircase so narrow it would send a claustrophobic into a fit.
"Up the stairs, hurry," he said, gesturing impatiently.
The splintering steps creaked and groaned with every footfall. "Tethys!" Snape said in a loud whisper as we emerged into a wide chamber that, unlike the sitting room from which we had just come, stretched on so far it seemed implausible that it fit within the limits of the house. A sudden noise made my heart jump, and a creature with eyes that were much too large for its small head popped into existence atop a square, two-person table that had been pushed to one side of the room. It wore what I thought was a greenish pillowcase, clean and unwrinkled, a stark contrast to the typical house elf attire I was accustomed to. One of its ears looked to have been ripped in half, leaving a jagged-edged lobe in its place.
The house elf wringed its bony hands, watching me straighten my shirt out of the corner of its bulging eyes as it said "yes, Master?" in an unexpectedly lovely, musical trill.
"Search the area, but be discreet. Ensure we have not been followed," Snape said to the elf, who was nodding furiously, causing her intact elephantine ear to flop back and forth. "Should anyone come to the house, you are to keep this girl's presence here a secret at all costs, and speak about her to no one."
"Yes, Master. Tethys is pleased to do as you say, sir," she sang, then evaporated with an abrupt pop, leaving the emerald tablecloth rippling in her wake.
As soon as she was gone, Snape surged into action. He moved around the room like a dark blur, waving his wand over every last inch and muttering incantations I'd never even heard before. The place rather reminded me of his office in the dungeons at Hogwarts: poorly lit, windowless, somewhat circular. On one end was the table and chairs, adjacent to a wall covered in cabinets and cupboards; on the opposite, a thick, comfortable-looking bed, with an ambient, crackling fireplace to its one side and a tall gray door to its other. Above the table hung what I guessed was a sort of clock: a deep, nighttime-sky-blue oval, its reflective surface edged with eleven twinkling pinpoints of light surrounding a smaller circle that was half-black, half-moonlight.
"Where are we?" I asked. My voice sounded fragile and raw.
"We are in Cokeworth, at my home. You are not to go downstairs unless I accompany you. Your presence will be undetectable here, though how Travers will surmise that you have escaped is unknown. We can only hope that he does not suspect I have aided you in any way," he said. His cloak billowed at his heels as he cast a second set of enchantments.
I chewed on my lower lip, feeling utterly useless and hyperaware of his every movement. I should have been angry at him. Outraged, even. But I wasn't. I could not explain to myself why, instead of berating him for all that had happened - for letting my uncle torture me right before his eyes - I was instantly captivated… so lost in the tiniest details of his essence that I grew inwardly frustrated at myself for being so pathetic. What was wrong with me? It was like he was a planet, and I, a moon, stuck in his gravitational pull in an infinite orbit.
By the time he was satisfied with the protections he had cast, I felt flushed and lightheaded; he was disconcerting on so many levels and I just wanted to reach out and touch him… to feel that he was really real, truly there, no longer a daydream but an actuality. "You are injured," he said with what sounded like regret, the words framed as a statement rather than a question; he had probably mistaken my infatuation for discomfort.
I nodded, casting my eyes down at his shoes as I absently touched my neck, suddenly cognizant of the radiating pain. "It feels like… every inch of me hurts… I think my collarbone is broken. And two of my fingers," I said, and held out my left hand shakily, indicating to my ring and pinky fingers which were each bent like branches in unnatural ways. Then I pulled up the left leg of my badly torn jeans. "The burn on my ankle is… very painful… and I think this cut may be infected…"
Without preamble, he again began to dart around the room, scanning thoughtfully along the shelves adorning one wall as I continued to rattle off my list of injuries. After collecting three containers and mulling briefly over the absence of a fourth, he pressed a hand to my elbow and guided me towards the bed. "I may not be a healer, but I should be able to mend the worst of the damage and, presumably, alleviate most of the pain. Here, sit," he said. The plushy jade green comforter sank at my weight. He placed the containers - likely healing potions - on the bed next to me: one a tall, thin bottle with a purplish, viscous liquid; another, round with pearly turquoise contents; and a third, a small circular tin.
Snape stood so close that I could have rested my head on his stomach if I leaned forward into him, and I had to concentrate hard to curb the urge. He gingerly slid the collar of my shirt down over my arm and uttered incantations that offered instant relief from the days-old pain. After a few passes of his wand, he ran his fingertips along my neckline and clavicle, checking that the fracture was properly repaired. The reaction in me was instant and elemental; my skin responded to the gentleness of his touch with a rush of chills. I felt his fingers stutter when I gasped. The overanxious desire to fall into him was almost irresistible as it consumed me bit by bit, from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head, and if my fingers hadn't been broken I would have sat on my hands to help resist the temptation.
The force radiating between us only became harder to withstand when he delicately lifted my hand into his and ran a thumb across the broken bones, his skin alabaster against mine. It seemed impossible that a man with that degree of tantalizing masculinity could have a touch so soft and subtle, yet he maneuvered my bruised and aching body in a way that caused me no pain at all; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
"What were you thinking, Rowan?," he asked, voice constricted with emotion. The sound pulled me from my stupor before I could act on the impulse.
"What do you mean?" I asked, and I was surprised to find that I was breathless.
He did not draw his gaze away from my hand as he healed the breaks one at a time. "Wandering around on your own, considerably unprotected, when you were fully aware that Travers was searching for you…" his tone was gradually amplifying, betraying a hint of discontent. "I am struggling to comprehend how it could have happened that you came to me last year, requesting my assistance in mastering defensive magic because you were frightened that he would find you, yet managed to enable yourself to become so conspicuous that any dimwit with a wand would have been able to locate you easily."
I flinched. "Well, what did you expect me to do?" I said indignantly. He removed the stopper from the bottle of purple liquid and knelt down in front of me, black robes sprawling around him on the floor as he raised my jeans up to my knee. Pinches of pain made me grunt as the fabric stuck slightly to the yellowy stuff the seeped from the gash on my calf. The festering wound ran from the back of my knee to the tendon at my heel. Encircling my ankle was a trail of wand-tip-sized burns, the skin still raised and raw pink – this particular incident had occurred more recently. "I thought we were… after that night in your office… and then you just… left… after we… after I…" my words hung in the air for the span of several heartbeats as Snape focused on treating my wounds, offering no reply. The potion stung my leg in a way I imagined was not unlike that of laying against a cactus. It subsided quickly, however, and the incision was left looking significantly less oozy.
Reaching next for the tin, he brought his gaze to me and locked on, jaw clenched and brow creased inscrutably, his features falling in and out of shadows in the flickering firelight. "I expected you to keep yourself safe. To go back to America, or at the minimum stay with the Weasley girl – you would have been extraordinarily well protected there," he said hotly as he applied an orange paste to my ankle.
"I know… I know. I really thought I could handle myself. I'm so much stronger now and I had nowhere to stay. I didn't want to put Ginny in any more danger," I said. Snape had now moved on to another crack in my hipbone. "And after the way we… you and I… left things, I just… wanted to find you… I needed to see you again. To understand what happened that night on the tower. I had been so certain… defended you, insisting to everyone who thought otherwise that you weren't one of them," I fumbled for the words, picking at a string on my jeans as I did my best to justify myself. "And then… Dumbledore… and I felt so hurt and foolish and… abandoned..."
The orb at the center of the clock across the room had been gradually brightening, with the entire circle now a shining, radiant white. Though the last of my injuries had all but vanished, he remained kneeling in front of me. "As usual, your stubbornness surpasses all expectations. Yes. I killed Dumbledore. On his orders. I warned you that there were many things you did not understand - "
"Like what!?" I interrupted. My eyes welled with tears, distorting my vision. "Maybe if you would talk to me and explain what is going on, then I would understand! I think you owe me that, at least!"
Snape looked stiff and solemn at this, and I could see him silently deliberating. When he finally spoke, reluctance colored his voice. "Last year, Draco Malfoy was given a task by the Dark Lord. Should he have failed to kill Dumbledore by the year's end, Malfoy would have guaranteed not only his own death but the deaths of his parents as well. Dumbledore requested my word that I would be the one to kill him in Malfoy's place in an effort to preserve the boy's soul, and to ensure that my position – as a spy – would not be discovered. I expressed my… reservations… to Dumbledore, but his stubbornness rivals yours," the corner of his lip twitched upward a fraction. "He refused to reconsider. At any rate, the curse to his hand, which I am certain did not go unnoticed, would have killed him no later than a few months from now."
"A spy?" I whispered, incredulous, and I wanted to smack myself in the head for not working this much out before. Every piece of the mystery began to slide into place. The entire scene on the Astronomy tower replayed in fast-forward in my mind - Malfoy, stricken and pale; Snape, imposing and lethal as he directed his wand at the headmaster who pleaded for his life: "Severus… Severus… please…"
No. Not for his life, but for his death. Only now did I realize that he was not begging for his life to be spared but for Malfoy's.
Snape's regarded me with an expression that was half furious, half hurt. Hot, bubbling shame settled into my stomach. How could I have ever doubted him? Beyond that, I should have trusted my own instincts.
"Yes. A spy," he repeated tensely. "A fact previously only known by myself and Dumbledore. You truly believed I intentionally misled you?"
"Well you left me in the dark! You killed Dumbledore and… and then Arawn captured me…" I said through trembling lips as I fought back futilely against the sobs that thickened my throat, threating full blown hysteria. "…and you stood there… and he hurt me! You watched as he tortured me… encouraged it, even! What else was I to think!?"
Snape could no longer contain the dam that held back his temper. He rose to his feet at a dizzying speed, his whole face canvassed by torment as an unexpectedly hot rage exploded out of him like a tsunami. "YOU DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT DID TO ME! You do not have the slightest understanding of how deplorable I felt to watch idly as he hurt you! This is exactly the reason why it would have been better if we had not…" his thoughts tailed off, the memory conjured by his unspoken words lingering palpably between us. He swallowed audibly, pacing his breath to reign back his self-control. "If you hadn't been so preoccupied with finding me, you would have been safe. But instead… instead… look what he did to you!" he snapped, looking horrified, just as an abrupt popping sound interrupted the moment.
Tethys had returned, again planted atop the table on the opposite side of the room.
"Master Snape, sir, Tethys has fully inspected the area, and thinks your secret is safe. You have not been followed," she trilled, apparently unaware of her very inopportune timing.
The disruption forced him into composure, and when he spoke again it was in his usual, unruffled, deep baritone. "Very good, Tethys. Thank you," Snape responded in a placatory tone without turning to face the elf. "Please gather some dittany – it appears I have used up the last of it - and prepare a meal for our guest."
Tethys sang out agreeably and vanished into thin air.
What little color Snape's face normally held had drained away, his eyes intense and anguished… More than ever, I wanted to pull him into me and heal the dark clouds around his heart; to smooth the pain away from creases of his face with my touch. Several thousand questions still burned in my mind, but there was one that screamed louder than all the rest. I carefully examined the reaction in his eyes as I asked, "so it was all real, then? That night, in your office…" Warmth spread across my cheeks as the words left my lips. For all I knew, his feelings had changed completely.
His posture relaxed and without even speaking, the look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. Without thinking, I threw myself off of the mattress and collided with him. The invisible, magnetic force that had been humming tangibly between us flared instantly. He hesitated, tensing briefly before he wilted into me, fastening his arms around my waist and pressing me to his chest so tightly it almost hurt.
Tears pooled in my eyes. "Thank you… for saving me. I knew you would come for me… thank you…" I whispered into his shirt. Inky black hair mixed with copper as he rested his chin against my temple and I could hear an intake of breath in my ear.
"I will always come for you, Rowan. I only regret that I could not save you sooner… I tried…" he intoned.
"It wasn't your fault… I understand now. I put you in an impossible position."
His hold on me loosened. Taking me by the shoulders, he moved us several inches apart, fixing me with his stare. "You're wrong. It is entirely my fault," he said despairingly. "And that is why… we cannot do this right now. It was a significant oversight to allow any of this to occur at all. I have been… cursed with the inability to protect those I care for. Permitting this to continue only serves to place you in even greater danger than you are already in…"
It felt as though a fresh fracture had opened up in my bones at his words. He was so infuriating sometimes. "No. No, don't do this again. We've wasted so much time with this back-and-forth, do-we-don't-we, lovers-enemies business. You know we are meant to be together as well as I do! I don't regret it. I don't regret any of it. And I don't care about the danger – "
"Well I do!" he fumed. His jaw was set, eyes still pained, and he looked as though he may have wanted to hit something. "Should the Dark Lord ever discover I have turned spy for Dumbledore, there is no doubt that he will use anyone I care for against me. He will kill you… Not to mention it is remarkably irresponsible to risk exposure and thereby risk failure in this war. It is absolutely essential that I remain focused on protecting Hogwarts and, undoubtedly, helping Potter vanquish the Dark Lord."
"I would never do anything that puts your secret at risk," I said with sincerity.
"Don't you understand! That is not the issue! I have spent the past sixteen years of my life placing myself in mortal danger to spy on the Dark Lord, to ensure his defeat. It is absolutely essential that I remain as such… and yet – " For a moment, his words caught, and if he looked horrified before, it was nothing to how he looked now. "And yet, I would not hesitate to reveal myself before I let you die! Without a second thought I would stand aside and allow the entire world to turn to ashes sooner than see you killed! I would choose you, every time, in any circumstance. That is why you cannot put yourself in danger… Everything… everything hinges on my ability to remain at the right hand of the Dark Lord. And you have been placing all of wizardkind in jeopardy like a selfish child!"
The invisible punch hit me in the gut so hard that I staggered slightly. Suddenly, I felt very small. "I'm sorry…" I said slowly and softly, looking at him through streaming eyes. "I had no idea… I didn't mean to force you into taking that chance, or to put anyone else at risk. You're right… I have been selfish. I've been selfish because… I love you. And that love made the thought of losing you unbearable. I'm sorry that my love hurt you… that my feelings brought you pain…" A line creased between Snape's brows, sorrow crinkling his eyes. I was reminded of how tall he was as he stood over me, all dark hair and dark robes. "But now that I know the truth, I can help you! I want to fight back and, more than anything, I want to be at your side! Please, I'll do whatever you need me to…"
I hated myself for sounding so needy but the truth was, I did need him. Throughout my entire life I'd been strong and brave and forced myself to rely on nothing and no one else, so just this one time… just with him… I wanted to allow myself to be vulnerable. To need someone. To belong to someone. Even if it was selfish.
His face had fallen into lines of misery, and he avoided my eyes when he spoke. "I… All that I require from you is to remain far out of harm's way. Now, for once in your life, listen to me. Stay put," he said firmly, then turned away and began abruptly retreating towards the doorway. I stood there stupidly, feeling completely off balance.
"Stop!" I yelled, louder than I intended to. He faltered in mid-step and I softened my tone. "If you love me then please, don't go… don't run away again…"
He froze in place, and it was as though he somehow grew taller as the entire length of him stiffened. The echo of my drumming heartbeat filled the space between us until, moments later, he spun on his heels. I was nearly knocked off my feet as he stormed up, nose to nose with me, his closeness instantly triggering my pulse to quicken. "Stop. Being. So. Stubborn," he warned, each syllable as sharp as the point of a knife.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly as we stayed suspended in a kind of deadlock, intensely studying one another's eyes. His expression was wavering incomprehensively. And then, without warning, his lips crashed into mine, his palm finding the back of my neck and drawing me into him. He held nothing back as he kissed me in a way that was famished and wild. It was the kind of kiss that rips open the skies and ignites the stars, and I knew then that he had been as starving for me as I had been for him. His fingers twined through my hair as his other arm circled around my waist, pulling me closer and deeper and harder. My body operated on instinct, a low pleasant sound vibrating in my throat as my back arched over his forearm. My hand slid down the nape of his neck and under his tight coat, savoring the feel of the skin on his back and shoulders as a euphoric shudder rose from within him. We were moving together and I was desperate. Desperate for more of him. Desperate for all of him.
And out of nowhere he broke the kiss.
I was breathless and crawling out of my skin and aching in places I didn't know I had, and he was panting slightly, a flush in his cheeks and lips and he looked younger and more lovely than ever.
"Severus…" I whispered, my voice breathy and desirous. And I was so disoriented from the kiss that when he cast his eyes to the floor, turned away, and stalked out of the room, I was left speechless and rooted in place, with nothing but the coolness of peppermint lingering on my lips.
Chapter Soundtrack: Fleurie - Hurricane