A/N: If you've made it this far, you're in for a treat/reward. Congrats, you little freaks.
Chapter 14
"The most powerful weapon on Earth is the human soul on fire." – Ferdinand Foch
The walk back to the castle was done in relative silence. Severus quite felt like he was walking on air beside her, a taste so uniquely her lingering on his lips, he would've thought himself dreaming if not for the events preceding their kiss. He dared not look at her, fearful that he would break the illusion – go back in time somehow and erase the past few moments. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back because, obviously, he could not trust himself to have his arms free at his sides.
Their minds were clearly in sync, as they strode purposefully under arches and through corridors to get to the dungeons. He went left, and down a secret stairwell to avoid any students – they had been fortunate thus far to have not encountered any, and his Slytherins were likely sulking in their dormitories after Potter's outlandish win today. The way was clear for he and Rebecca to descend to his private office.
He held the door open for her, and she breezed past him – Severus breathed deeply, patchouli flooding his senses. He followed closely behind her, the door shutting with a flick of his wand. At long last, they had complete and total privacy. Holding his breath, he rounded his desk so that they were on opposite sides; he now felt the need to have a physical barrier between them, since he seemed to be demonstrating an appalling lack of self control around her. He placed his palms on the desk, and finally, had no choice but to look at her.
Relief. That was the emotion encompassing him when he saw there was no regret behind her sharp, intelligent eyes. What he did see, however, was an endless pool of warmth – like sunlight – glimmering back at him. For him. Severus could bask in that heat for hours, days, and never grow too hot or too uncomfortable.
"Well? Spill."
Her playful tone snapped him back to reality. Severus blinked and cleared his throat as quietly as he could get away with. This was absurd. He refused to allow one kiss to turn him into a speechless nitwit around her. There were much larger matters at stake – her safety, and, ultimately, the safety of the entire world.
A grim look settled on his lined face. "I was… trying… and failing to keep away from Igor Karkaroff."
Her amber eyes narrowed, as though a suspicion had been confirmed, and Severus felt a smirk pulling at his mouth.
"But, of course, you already knew that as well."
She shook her head slowly, saying, "No. Well – I had a feeling. When I didn't see either of you while the kids were still in the lake." She stared him dead in the eye, disarming him as she so often did. "I know Karkaroff named you in his trial. Severus, why has he been tailing you – trying to corner you all year?"
The temperature in the already cold dungeon room plunged about another fifteen degrees. He could not lie to her. He had to. Gods. He did not want to. Suddenly, he grew frustrated with himself – enraged with his position in this bloody war, and it was all of his own making. He truly had no one to blame but himself. This is why he should have stayed so carefully guarded. This is why he should have kept her at an arm's length from the very night she let down her glamours for him. This is why –
"Severus!"
He blinked.
"I can see the tunnel vision," she remarked. "Answer me, or don't. But, whatever you do, please do not lie to me."
He blinked again. Always so indomitable. He took a deep breath and, in his mind, began carefully editing what he was about to say next. He could justify what he was revealing to her any number of ways; everyone already knew, in the back of their heads, that the Dark Lord was never truly gone. His return was merely a matter of when, not if – their time had simply run out. He could blame the potentially piss-poor judgment on their kiss, for making his mind foggy, or just say that she'd be one more ally to have on side of the Order. But really, the answer was quite simpler than any of that.
He loved her, and she deserved to know. As much as he could share.
The conversation lasted hours. He did not anticipate anything less – she would be a fool if she didn't try to arm herself with as much information as possible, by asking as many questions as possible. After her shock at the Dark Lord's inescapable return wore off, they broke for lunch, and reconvened in the Hospital Wing, where he continued to lay his soul bare for her. To judge – to accept – to reject – whatever she chose. Whatever she decided, and if she decided he was no longer worth her while, well… he would force himself to be alright with it. She asked him about Lucius (of all people), and about his relationship with the entire Malfoy family. Revealing that side of himself to her – the side that learned to pander to certain members of the aristocracy for favors – had come astonishingly easy.
That night, for the first time, he allowed her in his private quarters – his room – not for sex. But for the pure intimacy of holding her in his bed whilst talking to her about his past. It became even easier, he'd realized, letting himself melt into her embrace while he spoke about his less than savory childhood – losing his best friend – allowing himself to become so fueled by hate and succumbing tofeeble-minded desperation for just a crumb of the grandeur that came so easily to his peers at Hogwarts.
She had reserved her judgment. Keeping it tightly bottled and close to her chest. But she could not keep it there forever. Nor did he want her to. It echoed, in a single word, his arms wrapped around her as they both stared at the ceiling.
"Why?"
He held her tighter, as though afraid she might shift away from him. He forced his heart to stabilize as he trudged onward.
"Because I was an idiot child. I was angry. An angry, idiotic child making irrational… irreversible decisions. I grew into an even angrier, bitter young man, and by the time I realized what I'd done in joining the Dark Lord's ranks, it was already too late."
A long pause in the thumb that was softly stroking the back of his hand.
"Did you really want to see Muggles and Muggleborns eradicated?"
"No. I wanted power, by any means necessary… I wanted to distance myself from my reprehensible upbringing as much as I was able. The Dark Lord promised all of that, and more. It was enticing – all too enticing – for an imbecilic, idealistic young wizard of my nature."
"Do you regret it? Taking his mark?"
"Everyday of my life."
Months passed. The heavy weight of winter finally gave way to crisp spring days at Hogwarts, and the term rolled on as it usually would, if there was not an increased populace of children. As much as Severus would've liked more practice in learning the curves and contours of Rebecca's delectable body, they had time only for subtle, knowing glances and chaste goodnight kisses. Between her matron duties and research project (apparently due in short order), her time was spread awfully thin. As was his own, of course – he had his regular teaching and Head of House duties on top of the unfortunate burden of keeping both Potter and Karkaroff in check. He was growing weary. Even wearier still with the growing number of werewolf attacks around the country – and particularly, the surrounding hamlets. There was only so much he felt he could shoulder, and the Werewolf Capture Unit were doing fuck-all about the problem. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement would soon have to step in, at Dumbledore's demand. Parents and staff were beginning to notice (as Fudge couldn't keep the news muzzled for long about a string of fucking werewolf attacks), and while the tournament kept most of the brats' singular thought preoccupied, Severus was not certain how long it would be until panic set in.
Yet, through all of it, he remained ever vigilant; determined to, at the very least, catch Potter up in his lies. He deserved that small bit of satisfaction. And if the arrogant brat was expelled for finding a way to repeatedly break into his stores again… well, Severus could call the Potters' life debt paid. Because there would then be no way for Boy Wonder to participate in the oh-so-dangerous games.
Oh, irony, so sweet…
A cruel smirk stole across his face, startling a nearby first-year into walking opposite the direction of where he was heading. If nothing else, Severus would just have this onething to throw in the headmaster's face – to show him, once and for all, that Potter wasn't so bloody perfect.
Severus entered the Hospital Wing, deftly scanning the room to see if any students were around. He spotted Claudia Barlowe at the far east end of the infirmary, changing the bed linens. He breathed. The expansive room smelled clean with a hint of of chamomile. Music played on low – Pearl Jam, if his ears were serving him well. Truly, she had the best taste in music, a characteristic which he could only admire from a distance. Muggles had, in his opinion, some of the best musical talents in the world… but, given his position, he very well could not advertise his penchant for the rock and grunge of his youth.
Rebecca worked diligently at her desk, updating student records. Had they not been so in tune with one another, he might have been able to sneak up on her, as he'd done in the past. As it were, she quickly felt his presence nearing closer and looked up. The look of concentration on her face melted away, a small smile taking its place.
"Why, hello, Professor Snape."
He nodded in acknowledgment, coming to stand in front of her desk.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Healer Kakudō. I was… hoping to speak to you in confidence." He made a not-so-subtle gesture towards Barlowe that had Rebecca stifling a grin.
"Claudia's just finishing up."
"All done, Healer Kakudō!" The seventh-year threw a knowing smirk in her Head of House's direction – she, having been the one he'd entrusted to deliver Rebecca's gift without incident. (Honestly, he'd always been a fan of Barlowe.) In record time, she was all packed up and slithering out of the Hospital Wing to the dungeons, leaving Rebecca and Severus in blessed solitude.
He watched Barlowe depart with a quirked brow. Rebecca was chuckling; when he turned back to her, she gave him the sort of kind smile he could feel from his heart all the way down to his fingertips. Gods. That she could evoke such a response awakened emotions he thought lay long dead.
"Would you like…" he began as she stood suddenly and rounded the desk. Merlin, no – please sit back down! He cleared his throat, and started over.
"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Minerva's quarters for a nightcap? It seems she has come into possession of a… dubiously ancient goblin-made wine, and she, in fact, is not interested in dying alone tonight."
She laughed, and he tried to not let it affect him. "I'm interested myself! Let me finish up a bit here, and call Dibly down."
"Take your time," he nodded. "But do remember you owe us your presence – no inexplicable, last-minute absences."
At this, Rebecca's face went ashen. She stopped all movement, as though that could make her disappear and she leaned heavily against the desk so that it was supporting most of her weight. Severus blinked, startled, and held himself back from going to her side. Why – he did not know. Neither did he know why she'd responded so viscerally.
"Rebecca – what –?"
"I didn't tell you," she said weakly, and looked up at him with apology in her beautiful golden eyes. He was mystified; if there was anything he loathed more than himself, it was being confused.
"You… did not need to," he said slowly, as if she'd lost all sense. "I was the one who delivered you news of the mediwitch's death. Do… do you not remember?" For one frightening moment, Severus thought his worst fears were becoming realized – that Rebecca was beginning to lose the brilliant, clever mind he'd grown to adore.
Her mouth popped open in surprise, clarity dawning on her face. He watched the wheels turn inside her head, considering how ethical it may be to use Legilimancy on her in this moment.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, oh…"
He patted the front pocket of his robes. "My apologies – I haven't any owl treats today."
She glared. "Owls say who. Not oh." Ah. Still sharp as ever. "There's been a misunderstanding. Can you sit?"
He acquiesced, the sudden shift in her demeanor catching him slightly off guard. Wholly used to being the brusque one, Severus found the role reversal to be slightly jarring, at best.
She sat heavily in her own chair, pursing her lips and perhaps thinking about how to begin. Severus was on the edge of his seat – figuratively, of course. He say straight-backed with his arms crossed at his torso, waiting for her to say something.
"Did you… um, hear about what happened to Legory Naurank?"
Naurank. Naurank. He knew that name, but from where? Severus reached deep within the confines of his memory bank to see if he could summon a face to put with that name. It had to be someone of import if she suspected he would've heard any news about him.
Finally, Severus shook his head.
Rebecca brought both hands to her mouth, as though she were praying; she took a deep breath and glanced to the heavens for guidance.
"The same day you told me about the attack in Hogsmeade, there was a special news bulletin on the Wireless. A Ministry official… Legory.. and his daughter were found – dead. Burned alive by Fiendfyre."
She paused here, to give him the opportunity to reply. He said nothing, however, as there was naught to say; as cruel as it sounded, he did not know these people, and so, their demise impacted him none. Sill, Severus felt the (frankly perplexing) need to reassure her, inclining his head forward for her to continue.
"When I was still an intern at Erinlẹ's… he was – I –" Her hands were now trembling slightly, and it took everything inside him to keep his arse planted firmly in his seat. But again, he still felt it essential to provide some measure of comfort – a kerchief. He passed it to her and she accepted it gratefully.
"While I was still an intern," she continued in a tone that he could only describe as detached, "Legory was traveling abroad for the Ministry. He was in an accident – a hazard of the job, they explained – he came into Emergency Admission with severe internal bleeding as well as several broken rib bones. I… this was very early on in my career, when I wasn't as selective with my ability as I maybe should have been – when I wasn't as confident as I am today in my use of the new techniques we were being taught."
Severus straightened in his chair just a fraction. "You Healed him."
"I did."
"And you later watched as he and his daughter were consumed by fire."
"Yes," she whispered, looking past him at something he couldn't see. He followed her unfocused gaze to the window, where a small spattering of stars in the night sky were making their presence known. This time, he didn't stamp down the feeling, the need to connect with this woman physically. Severus reached across her desk, to touch her hands gently; this action stilled her mindless twisting of his kerchief, and also brought her back down to reality. She stared at him a moment, and seemed to make some kind of decision as he withdrew his hand.
"Someone sent Inferi into their home." At her words, tight knots of dread burrowed their way underneath Severus' skin. "That same person… put up anti-Apparition wards all around and inside the house so they – they couldn't escape. They – he tried, Severus. He tried to get them both out, but he just couldn't. It was a hoard of them, maybe one and a half to two dozen. It all happened so quickly, while they were asleep in their beds. He tried.. but, he panicked and… well, Fiendfyre was his last resort."
Her words faded, growing quieter as she finished speaking. A hush fell over the infirmary like a blanket of snow. Since meeting her, Rebecca had already rendered the normally caustic wizard speechless more than a handful of times. Now, he sat stock still yet again, terrified perhaps, of frightening her away.
"How old was the child?"
"Two." Silent tears streamed down her face – she did not try to stop them, nor dry them. However, she did bow her head, attempting to avoid his gaze. He wished she would not; he would take her pain. He could take her pain. She had only to allow him –
"Why… did you not try to warn him – Naurank?"
He'd asked the question as neutrally as possible, but that could not stop her from violently recoiling like he'd hit her. The anguish in her eyes – those eyes that sparked in golden embers – was enough to make him want to follow up his inquiry with a quick "forget it".
But, of course, the words were already said, and there was naught he could do to take them back.
"I have learned… the hard way.. that my role isn't to stop the hand of Fate. I am not a deity – I'm a Healer. Vītālinare. I was – I was born to heal others. And, in exchange, I may see how they die… but I cannot stop it from happening, Severus. The consequences would be dire if I tried again."
Again…?
How could she not be some kind of deity with such capabilities? With such… power about her, that was certainly tempered with kindness?
He watched her, studying every minute movement – the fidgeting of her hands, the saddened smile that crept its way to her face. The subtle curve of her mouth was one of tragic beauty, her eyes glowing with the wisdom her words carried. He remembered trying to stop Fate once in his youth, after his own actions already set a chain of events in motion. He recalled the pain – like something slowly sucking out his insides – he felt upon learning he'd paid a most unfortunate price for his own transgressions. He understood – she needn't explain further.
And, in fact, she did not. Or, at least, it was clear to him she would say no more on the matter for now. In spite of his own curiosity (of course, he wanted to know everything about her, including the ugly bits), he did not press. He was determined to be the support she needed. As she dried her eyes, he considered what he could say to comfort her.
"I.. understand, but…" He cleared his throat and looked away from her now. "It is a very bitter thing to know someone will succumb to such a horrific death, and not act in a way that will prevent it from occurring."
"It is."
"You are very strong."
"As are you."
His eyes betrayed his unmoving mouth, a storm brewing in their unfathomable depths – for her and her alone. Through her unwavering compassion and her tender care, she was helping him lay Lily's memory to rest, now, some thirteen years after the death of his beloved friend. Rebecca's magic reached out towards him warmly, and he met it with a passion that raised the temperature in the Hospital Wing several degrees. He could not see, but feel the energy twisting around them, like currents in an ocean. Frankly, the heat of their joined energy left him quite breathless, and he looked away, lest he do something insane – like grab her and kiss her. In plain sight of anyone who happened to waltz into the infirmary.
"Did the news bulletin name any suspects?"
She blinked. Shook her head.
"And there was no word about the Inferi either. It was horrible – they made it sound like he went mad, and hurt both her and himself on purpose!"
Her delicate brows drew together in a scowl, and he resisted the wild urge to smirk at such an expression upon her face.
"Did Naurank happen to glimpse his perpetrator before…?"
His question was not even fully formed, and she was again shaking her head, thick curls bouncing and catching the light from the sconces.
"As grisly as it sounds, I almost wish he had," she confessed in a slight whisper. She hesitated. "Have… with your connections, do you know who might have wanted a mid-level Department of Mysteries worker dead?"
He raised both brows, drawling, "My… connections?"
He loved the shade of red that bloomed on her cheeks whenever she felt embarrassed or self-conscious. She pursed her lips in irritation, as though he were the cause for her poor locution.
"You know what I mean," she said rather testily.
"I am certain I do not." In the back of his mind, he was already compiling a list of potential culprits based on what he knew of his fellow Death Eaters… if this had anything to do with his associates at all. He had to consider the possibility that, as evil of an act as it was to send a hoard of Inferi into a wizard's home to kill a toddler – some evil acts were simply just done outside of the Dark Lord. Outside of the Death Eaters. It was an unfortunate fact of life. And it stretched his narrow list to sudden unknown proportions. A reality that sat with him rather uncomfortably, gazing at the simmering, selfless woman before him.
"Your –"
He held up a hand, and her eyes narrowed at the gesture. "I'm winding you up," he relented. "I know. What I do not know is the identity of such a person – witch, wizard, or anyone in between – who would want Legory Naurank dead and his child dead. Although, I will admit it is indeed a curious case with curious timing. I will keep my ear to the ground for more news. In the meantime…"
She regarded him just as carefully as he did she.
"Have you told anyone else of what you've Seen?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Only my aunt. She was with me when the news was broadcast – I typically don't like to make a habit of advertising what I See."
"Good," he said protectively, before he could stop himself. "Let us keep this between us three for now." Rogue werewolf attacks. Inferi hoards being summoned to execute a Ministry official. Potter's name mysteriously winding up in the Goblet of Fire. None of it sat right with him. He opened his mouth to say more, just as Rebecca was about to make some snarky quip about his circumspection, but they were both very rudely interrupted by – he launched out of his seat and spun around at the sudden cacophony – Karkaroff. That grating voice Severus could recognize anywhere.
He looked back at Rebecca, who was also now standing.
Hagrid led the way, Fang right at his heels in a scene most unusual. The beast normally preferred keeping outside on the school grounds at all times, but it must have sensed danger tonight, and worked extra hard to keep up with its owner's large strides. What was more – Hagrid carried with him his crossbow. A feeling of anxiety welled inside Severus' gut that he was able to subdue purely thanks to Occlumency.
"Healer Kakudō – ma'am – it's Professor Dumbledore, miss – a student not in good shape," the giant panted. "No' in good shape a' all."
Rebecca was already rounding her desk; her paperwork lay long forgotten.
"Take me to them."
They moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, shadows flickering ominously on the ancient stone walls. Several ghosts stared on in curiosity as Hagrid all but ran in the lead. Severus fell into step behind Rebecca, his long black robes billowing behind him, keeping pace with her. His face was impassive, a mask perfected over years. Despite the mask – in spite of his carefully constructed mental fortress – Severus felt a strong desire to castrate Karkaroff where he stood as the weasel's eyes raked over Rebecca with contempt.
He stifled it only because he had to.
Upon encountering the scene, he spotted Potter standing there with a look of nonchalance about his petulant little face. Severus did not stifle his urges this time, which had only grown stronger on the way down to the grounds. His snarl came so hard and so vicious, it caused Fang to let out a startled bark.
"Potter! What have you done now?" The two glared each other down.
"Healer Kakudō," the headmaster said gravely, before Potter could open his mouth to argue or lie, "he was stunned." For the first time, Severus noticed the unconscious boy at Dumbledore's feet, and his mouth settled into a grim, angry line. Dumbledore continued, "The poor boy apparently hit his head rather hard on the way down. I.. was not comfortable reviving him myself, until his head injury had been healed, you understand? The bleeding is… I have already administered two Blood Replenishers."
The smell of blood clung heavily to the air, and Severus vaguely registered the small pool of blood around Krum's head. A boulder, glistening in the low light, sat innocently nearby. It was roughly the size of a small pewter cauldron.
Rebecca stepped into the pool, not phased in the least by all the blood, and knelt beside Krum. Karkaroff hovered over her obsessively as though he could actually help in any capacity. Severus turned to Potter, needing more answers than were provided – knowing the brat was somehow culpable in this.
"What. Did. You. Do?" His scowl was lethal, unrelenting.
"I didn't –"
"Severus." There was a reproachful warning in Dumbledore's voice. "Harry had nothing to do with what's happened to young Mr. Krum. In fact, it was Harry who came to retrieve me at the start of this ordeal. The only thing I would say he is guilty of here is – in doing so, he left a fellow champion, unconscious and incapacitated, to fend for himself." The headmaster looked at Potter sharply; the boy had the good sense to appear humbled, wild hair falling in his eyes. How such an egotistical child managed even a shred of humility, Severus would never know. The headmaster continued, "Professor Moody arrived some five minutes ago, and is currently searching the Forbidden Forest for Barty Crouch."
"What has Crouch –?"
"If everyone could just please shut up," Rebecca spoke through gritted teeth without looking away from her task.
Properly chastised, Severus physically bit his tongue – almost hard enough to draw blood himself – and turned his back on the still fuming Potter.
"I can't control the bleeding," Rebecca said hoarsely, though her face betrayed no emotion. She glanced to Karkaroff. "Do I have your permission, as his headmaster and conservator, to treat him with alternative healing magic?"
NO.
"Yes, yes!" snapped Karkaroff, and Severus felt a twinge of gratitude that he was already biting his tongue. "Do whatever it is you need to do, girl, but do it fast!"
"Tha's Healer Kak-duo to you!" Hagrid spoke gruffly, Fang growling at his feet.
Requiring nothing further of them, Rebecca rolled up her sleeves a bit more. Dumbledore attempted to usher everyone away, to "give Healer Kakudō room to work," but Karkaroff was having none of it. And neither was Severus. He would not leave her side for anything right now. Everyone held their breath when the Healer cradled Krum's large head in her lap – everyone, except Severus. He timed his breath to join with her own as she laid both hands just above the gaping wound. The realization dawned on him, as a magnificent glow enveloped Krum's head and a lyrical melody fell from Rebecca's lips – he'd never before seen her power with his own eyes.
Despite the fact that he was not on the receiving end of such pure healing energy, Severus could feel that the glow was warm and soft – like the witch currently intoning spell by song. He tried to make out the words, but she sang in another language; her native tongue, perhaps? This was ancient, powerful magic they were all bearing witness to, and as the exchange of energy swirled around them in brilliant hues, Severus risked a worried glance at Karkaroff.
Almost immediately, his animosity towards the sorry excuse for a wizard grew tenfold.
The way he watched her work – it was like she was some sort of asset. Or prize. Karkaroff's beady little eyes were shining with greed; meanwhile, Severus was trying to convince himself how… inappropriate it would be if he cursed the man. Not here, not yet. He shifted his eyes back to the woman whom he could now no longer imagine living his life without, and observed in complete awe as Krum's wound began knitting itself together. The cells regenerated faster than any healing magic Severus had ever seen.
And then, it was finished.
The gentle light faded. There wasn't so much as a scar or a patch of hair that was missing. Her hands shook ever so slightly, but she wasn't done. She reached for her mediwitch kit and Summoned a vial of clear liquid. She tipped Krum's head up until his mouth fell open, and poured the entire potion down his throat.
"What magic was this?" Karkaroff demanded belligerently.
Rebecca ignored him, massaging the Quidditch player's neck until she was sure he'd swallowed all of the substance. She then looked to Dumbledore and nodded.
"He is ready to revive, Headmaster."
"Are you certain?"
"Now, wait one minute!" Karkaroff interjected, and Severus seriously considered the ramifications of silencing him by hexing his mouth to his rear end. "I want to know what healing magic that girl used on my student!"
A fuse – already deadly short, sputtering – blew.
"Igor. Enough." Severus glared directly at the Bulgarian now, who flinched at the sheer amount of venom in his voice. "You will not continue to disrespect our school's matron in this way, least of all for the fact that she has just saved the life of your star pupil." He ended his words in a sneer worthy of bestowing upon a class of first-years.
Karkaroff took a small, unconscious step backwards, but Severus noted that the calculating look never left his eye. Severus' stomach twisted and churned apprehensively. Fuck. This was, possibly, worst case scenario in terms of those who could have witnessed her power. He did not like wild cards, and Karkaroff was the very definition of one – knowing that his own miserable life would be eventually forfeited, it made him unpredictably desperate. Severus tried staying as calm as possible, but the adrenaline was beginning to hit him and the feeling in his stomach grew increasingly unpleasant.
"I did not –!"
"If you are both quite done?" Dumbledore interrupted with a theatrical flourish of his wand. He didn't wait for a response; instead, he pointed the ebony wand at Krum, and spoke, "Ennervate."
The first thing Krum did upon opening his eyes was try to sit up. Imbecile. His head was still nestled in Rebecca's lap, her soothing hands on both sides of his long face. She shushed away his panicked expression, and he blinked hard up at her.
"You've suffered a serious head injury," she said softly, still holding him in place. "You are Healed, but you're going to need to take it easy the next twenty-four hours. Sit up slow."
He did as she commanded – how could anyone not, when she spoke to them with such a voice? – and touched a hand to his head gently. He looked around. A mix of anger and fear glazed over his eyes. Something was not right.
"He attacked me!" Krum cried. "Crouch or votever –"
"Crouch!" Karkaroff exclaimed, drawing himself up to his full height. "Bartemius Crouch? The Triwizard judge?"
Krum nodded silently, and Karkaroff flew into an instant rage – yelling conspiracy theories at the top of his lungs, and accusing both Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic as a whole. Potter and Hagrid then joined in on the shouting, and it became a match as to who could be the loudest. It was all but a buzzing in Severus' ear as he was finally no longer able to resist the temptation of going to her side.
She just finished packing her kit. "Are you alright?" he murmured, barely above a whisper.
"I'm fine," she sighed.
She was not. In fact, she looked fucking exhausted, and that was putting it mildly. Just how much magic was pulled from her reserves when she used such a powerful Healing ability?
He helped her stand, Krum now being the only one sitting. He was ready to support her weight, seeing the steady tremors that wracked her body, but she stood fully on her own two feet. A small, unexpected balloon of pride swelled inside of him; outwardly, his jaw clenched. He looked over her head in time to see Hagrid lift Karkaroff off the ground, holding the Durmstrang headmaster up high in the air. Potter's eyes boggled, the stupid child finally stunned into blessed silence yet again.
"Oh, shit," Rebecca muttered.
Oh, shit, indeed. Dumbledore ordered Hagrid to desist at once and escort Potter all the way back to Gryffindor Tower; Hagrid acquiesced, begrudgingly, and only because he was permitted to leave his drooling menace he called a guard dog with the headmaster. To his credit, Fang sat heavily next to the spot of dirt onto which Karkaroff had been dropped, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat whenever the Bulgarian tried to move. The whole bit brought a self-satisfied smirk to Severus' face. Dumbledore simply appeared weary. Good.
Rebecca touched a gentle hand to Krum's shoulder. "If you feel any sharp pains in your head, even if you think it may be unrelated, I'd like you to come find me. Alright?"
Krum nodded solemnly. "I vill."
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore suddenly said, "would you mind escorting our Healer Kakudō back to the Hospital Wing? I think I will continue to wait here with Fang and our visitors until Professor Moody returns. Precarious times we are in… precarious, indeed.. one can never be too careful."
Of course, being ever the observant man that he is, Severus knew the true reason for the abrupt request. As much as he abhorred Albus, no one could deny the old wizard's sharp intelligence – unless he found it necessary to intentionally mislead you into thinking himself a dotty, senile lunatic. Penetrating blue eyes, just as sharp as Severus' own, had also caught sight of the way Karkaroff was staring at Rebecca. Fixated. Considering. And the headmaster wanted them both separated at once. Severus could not get her out of there a moment too soon.
He painted the perfect sneer. "Make haste, Healer Kakudō! The idea of having another interaction with Mad-Eye infuriates me more than the idea that Crouch went and got himself killed in the Forbidden Forest."
Under the circumstances, the headmaster ignored the not-so-subtle jab at their Defense professor.
Rebecca straightened, and with a, "Goodnight, all," began making her way back to the castle without giving Severus so much as a thrown glance. Her strides were long and purposeful, mediwitch robes swishing wildly at her ankles. He frowned and quickly fell into step beside her once more. Mercifully, Potter and Hagrid had gained some distance on them – already inside the castle and probably halfway up to Gryffindor Tower by now – so they were not all forced to walk together. Once they were fully away from Dumbledore and the lot, no one would be within earshot. Severus crushed the impulse to ask again if she was okay.
"He was staring at me. Karkaroff."
They reached the castle. Her voice was pitched low, as if she was unsure of anyone listening. The two members of staff, quite the unlikely pair, walked side-by-side in the direction of the Hospital Wing.
"I know," he intoned softly.
"I did not like it."
"I would kill him before he ever had a chance to do anything to you."
The threat slid easily off his tongue, and he felt not an ounce of shame in it. She did not respond, and he couldn't tell if that was good or bad. Her face was completely unreadable, which was not unusual, he thought. Occlumency did make up such a substantial part of her healing process. Even so, receiving zero energetic feedback from her right now made him apprehensive as all hell, considering that was so very atypical for them.
Severus held the massive door of the Hospital Wing open for her. It was safe to say there would be no nightcap later in the evening, given the events that just transpired; although, Minerva ought to hear about these recent… developments concerning Barty Crouch. And Dumbledore would surely be summoning the Potions Master to his office any minute now, once Karkaroff and Krum were both escorted back to their ship. The headmaster oft requested his –
"Will you stay with me tonight?" Rebecca breathed quietly. "Please?"
She need not ever plead with him, not when it came to staying with her. Piece by piece, she was dropping fragments of her own mental fortresses, raw emotion peeking through the widening cracks. Had she already allowed herself to witness Krum's death – or was it just there, lingering in the back of her subconscious, ready to unveil itself when her guard was fully down? In this moment, he couldn't tell. And now was not the time to ask her – not when she looked so utterly depleted.
His responding nod was stiff. He glanced to her desk, and said rather brusquely, "The paperwork can wait. You need rest."
She bowed her head, clearly unused to anyone seeing her in such a terribly weakened state. Severus could empathize. He longed to scoop her up, carry her to her chambers himself, but stood aside and allowed her to show him just how strong she could be.
"This way," she muttered, after clearing the desk.
He let her guide him up the steps of the small tower, towards her private rooms. A brief fissure of apprehension raced through him as he realized that this would be his first time in Rebecca's living space. She sent him a tired smirk over her shoulder as she keyed in the wards.
"Professor Snape, I can feel your distress from here. Try to relax… I won't bite."
He glared at her, causing her to huff out a small laugh.
The decoration in the small sitting room was quite minimal. Ordered chaos, Severus noted wryly, much like his own chambers. Atop the mantle, resting on a pile of rather large tomes, was his Valentine's Day gift to her – surrounded on all sides were crystals of various sizes, incense, and goblets for water or wine; clearly, the sitting room now served as her private meditation area.
She threw a log on the hearth, and Severus took that as his cue to begin making himself comfortable on the settee for the night.
"No," Rebecca spoke, breath hitched. She blocking his path, and her captivating gold eyes were once again beseeching. "Stay with me."
Oh.
He nodded, unable to speak past the hard lump in his throat. She took his hand in her own, and led him to her bedchamber. It was then that he noticed an entirely new set of runes, unhidden by glamours, etched into her forearm and traversing the underside of her wrist.
"Your arm…"
"Yeah," she whispered in acknowledgment. "I don't want to look at it, though. Not right now."
The next few moments passed in a haze for Severus. They disrobed in front of one another – he, down to his trousers and she, to her undergarments – and it was not awkward. Not in the least. Severus had one focus and only one right now – to hold the woman he loved, and shelter her through these rough parts that he had no doubt she forced herself to endure alone. Not tonight. Her uncharacteristic vulnerability had awakened something primordial inside of him, an innate need to protect something – someone – actually quite precious to him.
She caught sight of the Dark Mark on his forearm, as he hadn't felt the need to hide it given just how brave she was being… he owed it to her to reciprocate some measure of vulnerability. He knew he'd made the right choice when she did not remark upon it.
Never before had he noticed the size difference between the two – Rebecca generally carried herself as though she was seven feet tall in most cases – but now, as they lay together almost completely nude, it was quite apparent that she was much smaller than he. She curled against him, her breath tickling the sparse hairs on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. It did not take long until she was shaking and Severus felt a wetness on his skin. He found himself shushing her gently, tracing light, calming patterns on her back. She nestled into him even more, if possible, and he responded by tightening his grip on her. Despite the fact they had already shared kisses, this felt… infinitely more intimate. He lost himself in soothing her, stroking her head and her back and her arms, burying his face in her hair and whispering sweet nothings he could not imagine saying to anyone else.
Soon, Rebecca's trembling subsided. Her breathing turned soft. Even. He peered down. Long lashes sparkled with the tears that failed to make it to his clavicle. Her lips were parted slightly, begging to be met with his own, but she desperately needed the sleep. And so, he refrained.
And he would stay, just as she'd asked. He would hold her through this night, and the next, and the next, if she asked it of him. He would help her slay the demons that dared to take advantage of a deity as unselfish as her. He would slay them, and depart in the morning well before any of the students were awake to see him slipping from the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore was not even a thought.
The bed was unusually soft and comfortable, and Severus had to wonder if she'd charmed it to be that way. His muscles relaxed and his eyelids drooped, but his grasp on her never loosened entirely. Slowly, so as not to jostle her, he bent to place a soft kiss to the top of her head. She twitched a little and sighed quietly. Still asleep. My darling.
Yes, he could stay here for a lifetime.
RK + SS
The first thing Bex noticed upon waking was a tickle of hair on her nose. The next – her legs, interlocked with another pair.
She opened her eyes slowly and blinked. Her internal clock (not always accurate but reliable enough) told her that it was somewhere around four in the morning. That was honestly the most replenishing stretch of sleep she'd had in awhile without the use of Dreamless Sleep. And it was all thanks to…
Bex looked up, expecting to see that he was still asleep, but was instead met with those eternally dark eyes boring holes into her. A shiver, that had nothing to do with the incident of the previous night, traveled down Bex's spine. How long had he been awake, watching her? Had he slept at all?
"You are… breathtaking," he said, voice even deeper with hours of disuse.
Warmth crept up Bex's cheeks. Suddenly, the implications of his words jogged her tired brain.
MY GLAMOURS!
Of course, upon falling into a deep sleep, they had dissolved completely; he'd seen her runic tattoos before… but never quite like this. She realized, startlingly, that he was the first to see them in their entirety. Bex was by no means a virgin – she'd slept with men before – but she always made it a point to leave before any actual sleeping occurred, to prevent this exact scenario. That meant oftentimes exiting stage left as soon as both were finished; obviously, that would leave very little room to establish connections that went deeper than carnal instinct. And she much preferred it that way, given her line of work. Given what she was.
Or, rather, she used to prefer it that way…
Now, looking up at Severus, she wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. To stay here, in this bed with this wizard – of that, she was certain. To continue being held and breathing in his soothing masculine scent – definitely.
The alarm at her own condition gradually left her body and her face. He didn't speak, allowing her time to acclimate. Somehow, despite her.. aggressive sleeping habits, they managed to keep in roughly the same position overnight. His arms still encircled her as they had when she cried herself to sleep; they were looser now, and her head was still nestled against his broad chest.
"Good morning," she whispered, and ducked her head a bit, suddenly uncharacteristically bashful.
"It is, for once, isn't it?"
To compensate for her shyness, she pressed a series of light kisses to his pectorals.
"Look. At. Me."
His words were so soft, she thought she'd imagined him speaking – but no, there wasn't any mistaking his breath ruffling her curls with every word. She did as he asked and almost gasped to see the burning devotion on his face.
"I have been watching you – not just tonight – but, I suppose… for a long time now, trying to grapple with whether or not I truly deserve this. You. In the little time that I have known you, you've offered me something that, selfishly, I refuse to part with because it is the only thing in my life right now that gives me hope – a once far-reaching and foolish concept for a wizard like me, you see.
"I am… not a good man. In my youth, I was a callous, petty, and jealous wizard, and I do not believe much has changed. I –" his eyes went wide as though he wasn't anticipating the words that stumbled out of his mouth. "I will remind you that I am the reason Harry Potter lives without a mother. Without a father. I am the reason the Dark Lord cast his shadow upon their doorstep almost fourteen years ago, and though I would do anything to get my hands on a Time-Turner – to go back and correct my mistakes – that will not undo what has been done now. I have done… many terrible things, and I will likely do many more in the next coming years. It speaks to the selfishness of my character that I would commit these unspeakable acts and, before the blood on my hands even has the chance to dry, would still want to hold in my arms a woman so self-sacrificing."
He looked about as broken as she felt, so Bex was compelled to bring one of her hands up to rest gently on his cheek. Krum's rune set glared back at her tauntingly, almost as if it wanted to prove his point.
"Have you not also sacrificed, Severus? Do you not continue to do so?" Surely that had to be why he carried so much resentment in his heart; she imagined, with being in an active spying role, his life was barely his own. It certainly explained why he remained a professor despite loathing children so much. She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of him. "Why are you reiterating all of this?"
"Because I am giving you the opportunity now, while I can still turn away from you… to choose a better man, Rebecca." He stared at her with unwavering loyalty, fully prepared for an answer that could go either way. "You… deserve a better man." His body tensed, like he was ready to flee at her rejection.
"Severus," said Bex, stroking the roughened side of his face with her thumb, "I cannot think of a better man for me than you. I'm grown, and I know what I want. And I choose you. As fault-finding and self-deprecating as you can be, I am choosing you. Can you stand to live with that, or.. or, are we just wasting time here?" There was a tremor to her voice at the end, almost like she was equally as terrified as he.
His mouth closed over her own. There was nothing chaste about this kiss – this kiss that was hungry and urgent; as a ball of heat descended to Bex's groin, she wished he would never stop. He nipped her bottom lip, begging for entrance, which she granted immediately; his tongue plundered her mouth, causing her body to react by arching into him.
She made a low sound in the back of her throat when his lips left hers to begin attacking her neck. He seemed to be on a mission to taste every inch of her skin. He was soon throwing back the covers to access the dip in her collarbone more thoroughly. Bex released a throaty moan at his ministrations; he was kissing every rune and leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
"May I?" he asked hoarsely, tugging at her bra strap.
She nodded, unable to trust herself to speak.
His eyes grew dark, something barely restrained beneath the surface threatening to be unleashed. "I need to hear you say it, love."
"You may."
The bra vanished at his muttered spell, leaving her breasts bare to him. Through a haze of pure lust, Bex hoped he'd at least vanished it to the armoire. And then, her mind went deliciously blank upon him taking an entire nipple into his mouth.
"Oh."
Severus hummed in agreement, the resonating vibration causing her body to bend for him once again. His hand went to her left breast, while his head worked the other.
"Severus!"
She grabbed for something – anything – and he caught her flailing hand in his right. Her head fell back against the pillow, her other hand clutching the bedsheets as his sharp tongue lapped at her sensitive skin. Soon – too soon – he moved his mouth to the other breast. Bex was, admittedly, a puddle beneath him, and still, he continued his worship of her body; she wriggled and squirmed, and he was unrelenting.
Finally, he left her breasts to travel down her stomach, making detours to each of her hips, following roughly the same path as the ball of heat. Bex found that, remarkably, there was no shame in this act – he knew that her body told stories of death, of pain and suffering, and yet, he still believed she was…
"Beautiful," he murmured.
He made it to her thighs, and as he kissed trails up and down some of the longer prophecies between them, Bex felt her legs fall open for him. He moved in the space she created readily.
"May I taste you?"
How could she deny him when he looked at her like that?
"Yes," she whimpered. "Please."
He didn't use magic to rid her of this particular undergarment, she noted with a wry smirk. In fact, after he so carefully removed them (kissing down each of her legs in the process), he tossed her panties on top of his clothes that were folded nearby in a neat pile.
"Hey –!"
"Those are mine now."
And then, without another word, he descended upon her. Any reply she was thinking of making died on her tongue as all thought fled her brain. He devoured her as though she was the last meal he'd ever have alive. Bex bucked against him, unused to being consumed so exhaustively; Severus answered by gripping her thighs with both hands so that her movement was restricted. Electricity shot through her when he found the nub he was seeking and graced it with a gentle suckle.
"Severus!" she cried, suddenly very thankful for the silencing charms she'd placed upon her own bedchamber.
He broke away from her clitoris to press his lips to her inner thigh.
"Yes?" he questioned darkly, clearly teasing her.
"Please," she gasped, "don't stop!"
His impossibly obsidian eyes never left her face; she knew that look. He was studying and committing to memory – every reaction. Every expression. The added eye contact sent another wave of juices straight to her center.
"As you wish," he replied silkily, almost lazily, and bowed his head to flatten his tongue against her.
Again, Bex threw her head back. He was an expert, she decided – no way was this his first time. He kept his head moving and used his long, aquiline nose to his advantage. When he finally dipped his tongue lower, alternating between insertion and fast, unyielding licks, Bex felt her legs give an uncontrollable tremble. Followed by another. And another.
Her hands found his hair, holding the smooth strands desperately.
"S-Severus…"
The bastard. He stopped once again to answer her. This time, with a series of nibbles to the other thigh.
"Yes?" His voice was rough, gravelly.
"Please… fuck me."
His nostrils flared; she could feel his magic, passionate and enduring, snapping around them. There was something inherently sensual about watching his normally impeccable self-control slip and fall with his head nestled between her legs. She felt, if she asked for the entire world right now, he would burn anything in his path to hand it to her on a silver platter.
"Your wish," rasped Severus, "is my command."
He kissed the spot just above her clit while his middle finger busied itself with teasing her entrance, causing blood to rush in her ears. This was not exactly what she envisioned when she begged him to fuck her, but if anything, it proved the man especially skilled. He finger-fucked her shallowly, not even giving her the full digit, and Bex squirmed beneath him; she sought relief by lifting her hips, attempting to push his finger further in so she could ride him. He chuckled against her breathlessly, his other hand creeping up her stomach to massage her breast – the weight of his body keeping her hips in place.
"F-fuck, Sev…" She tried to keep up their eye contact – really, she did. But the pleasure she was receiving had her teetering on the cusp. She closed her eyes, brows knitted together as though in prayer. Just when she thought she'd lose her mind, Severus rewarded her patience by filling her aching heat with two of his fingers up to the knuckle.
"Gods!"
"Fuck," he growled, moving his hand slowly. "So wet… for me."
"Yes! Yes!" The moans he drew from her – she'd never made noises like this before, not with any of her previous lovers. And did that scream come from her mouth? Yes, it had, she concluded, when he wrenched another from her lips by closing his mouth around her clit.
Her noises of encouragement prompted him to hurry his pace, his fingers working her artfully.
"F-fuck! Severus! Gods – y-yes –!"
"Say it, darling." Mercifully, he refused to stop pumping his hand; Bex liked to think that he didn't even want to. That he couldn't at this point. His fingers were flying in and out of her dripping cunt, making loud squelching noises that increased her arousal – and his fervor.
"I'm going to cum," she whined, and tried to meet his hand thrust for thrust – but still, he kept her firmly pinned to the bed. He used the hand he wasn't fucking her with to tweak her hardened nipple.
"Yes, you will," he answered in a dark murmur. "And you will again. And again. And again."
On the third "again," Bex felt her walls clench around him. He moved his arm – hooking it around her leg – so her back could arch off the bed. The orgasm that crashed down around her, hard and intense, blinded her momentarily… but his hand never stopped moving, stretching her and stimulating her G-spot through the currents of pleasure coursing through her body.
Bex's magic sparked and popped around them as she reached crescendo again and again – she felt no need to hold back, confident that this very capable, powerful wizard could handle whatever she threw at him.
"Lift your leg just a little… yes, just like that. Good girl. That's it... fuck."
His eager tongue replaced his fingers, tasting the prize he'd labored so tirelessly for. Bex was lost to him. His thumb circled her clit with unforgiving speed. She panted and cried his name, hands twisting the covers as though any of those actions would inspire him to act mercifully. He had one goal in mind right now, and that was to coax as many orgasms as he possibly could from her body.
"You are exquisite," he groaned, the noise coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Bex couldn't answer him, for she was once again coming to stand at the edge of a precipice – she saw him, though, waiting for her right there at the bottom with his arms spread wide in supplication. He would catch her, as he had all the times previous. Of that, she was certain.
And so, she closed her eyes… and leapt.
Two days later, the sound of her laughter was filling the cozy living room of Rowan's apartment. She was visiting for the afternoon, taking a much-needed break from the chaos that seemed to plague the grounds of Hogwarts. The space was warmly lit, the coffee smell from his morning brew still heavily permeating the air. Bex sank deeper into the overstuffed couch, a feeling of normalcy washing over her.
"No. Fucking. Way!"
"Shh, keep your voice down!" Bex giggled. "You're going to wake up Rudy."
Rowan turned his nose up at his own fat, fluffy Maine Coon that was lounging lazily on the lap of his best friend.
"That beast sleeps when it wants and wakes when it wants," he said, watching Bex stroke his cat's soft fur. "Now please – we're all dying to know, and by we, I mean me – is this just, like, a casual hookup kind of thing, or are there actual feelings now on both sides of this equation? And like, either way, will you have anymore opportunities toreceive amazing fucking head from Mr. Mysterious over there?!"
Bex cackled loudly, causing Rudy to wake and stretch, then jump down from her lap in search of a quieter place to nap. She wasn't sure what exactly struck her as more funny – the fact that Rowan still referred to Severus as Mr. Mysterious, or that he was literally on the edge of his seat right now.
"There are… definitely feelings are both sides," she said, face growing warm as she thought about everything they had said to each other that night in May. Every word spoken, every fervent look, and heated caress was cemented firmly in her brain; so, naturally, when she thought about one thing, it led to another, and another.
"Oh, yeah," grinned Rowan. "You're in deep, babe. I don't think I've ever seen you like this before – not even with What's-His-Face."
Bex shook her head, laughing at herself. She had to think for a moment, about whom Rowan was referring to.
"Oh! The wizard from Texas!"
"Yeah, that buzzkill!"
Snickering, Bex said, "He was a bit of a buzzkill, wasn't he?"
"He was. I'm interested to see how this new beaux will compare."
Bex uncrossed her legs and sat forward a bit. "I wonder too. We haven't exactly had any lengthy discussions about… well, us, I guess."
"Better get on that. We all miss you being full-time at Erinlẹ's, including me. Especially me."
Shit. Between everything she'd been juggling – end of school term work, reorganization tasks in Hospital Wing, more staff meetings, Triwizard bullshit, and her research that she was now, at present, horrifically behind on – it completely slipped Bex's mind that a decision about her future at Hogwarts would have to soon be made.
"Hold up," said Rowan. "Are you thinking of continuing your hybridized residency? Because, from here, it looks like you're thinking of continuing your hybridized residency."
Bex rolled her eyes playfully. "I don't know, Ro. I need to dedicate more time to thinking about it."
"Better get on that, too – you don't have a lot of time." He threw a balled up piece of parchment at her, as if that emphasized his point. "Is it just me, or have you also noticed that your life's become significantly more exciting since you started working at Hogwarts?"
A trademark smirk fell into place. "And that's just what I needed, isn't it? More excitement."
"Eh. You were getting pretty dull there for awhile, honestly."
"Ugh – ouch!"
Rowan chuckled nervously. "No, but really." He ran a hand over his freshly-shaven head – a very recent development. He looked to the ceiling to find his words, and Bex's breath hitched in her throat, already having an idea where the conversation was now heading. She was never going to be able to avoid this forever; not with Rowan.
He continued, "There… was a point last year where I was so worried about you, Bex. I felt like you – you were disappearing right in front of me. You were fading away, and you were using work as, like.. a shield, almost. And no matter how hard I tried to reach you… I don't know.. it felt like my hands were slipping right through you."
Last year… when she was the most dependent on Dreamless Sleep than she'd ever been in her life. It was necessary, to get any kind of sleep, maintain any kind of schedule without the phantom that was her own subconscious assaulting her in the night. Last year, she was… not necessarily directionless, nor stagnant – on the contrary, she was perhaps a bit too narrowly focused on her career, on helping – Healing – as many people as possible. Going, going, going. She never, not once, stopped to consider that her growing intolerance to such a highly-regulated draught meant that maybe she needed healing the most.
It wasn't until she learned the truth of Hiroya's death all the way back in January that she forced herself to do serious introspection. The gift Severus had given her for Valentine's Day helped. It helped a lot, actually. Slowly, she was teaching herself how to consciously call the visions forward during meditation, thus relieving her subconscious some, and eliminating a need for Dreamless Sleep. Ultimately, she realized Aunt Septima was right – she would learn to better control her Sight. She would master her abilities. For, now, she could not fathom being given such a gift only for it to be thrown away in a few short years. She would master her abilities and keep her mind whole in doing so. There was no other option, not if she did not want to end up like her father and all the other Vītālinare in history. She had to think that her life had more meaning, more value, than simply following a predetermined path – perpetuating the same cycle of loss and tragedy.
"I'm sorry," Bex whispered. "I knew you were worried – I should have talked to you.. a long time ago. I'm.. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Seeing she was on the verge of tears, he left his seat to join her on the sofa, wrapping his arm around her and drawing her close. "You were overusing your ability? At Erinlẹ's? You can be straight with me, you know I will never judge you."
And he wouldn't. Because he was Rowan and she was Bex, and they could have been birthed from the same uterus for as much as they cared about one another. He was her red wine and a Lifetime Movie Network marathon soulmate. He knew how to make her smile, cackle, rage, and snort – they both said that the universe did not make them blood siblings because once they met, they would be joined at the hip for the rest of their lives anyway.
"Something like that," she replied, still far too ashamed to admit to the full extent of the truth. Leaving out a very crucial part. "And I was in a really bad place because of it. I… I think I got to a point where I didn't even want to be alive."
He squeezed her a little harder. Her jaw tightened. She hadn't realized just how close she'd been to following in Hiroya's footsteps.
"But you're better. You look better. You sound better. Like Bex."
She looked at him, eyes shining. "I feel better now. Lighter. There is still a long road ahead" – here, she went a little dazed thinking of the Final Task, the re-emergence of Lord Voldemort that would be, according to Severus, occurring any day now – "but I feel like I can bear to walk it. And it's thanks to you…"
Rowan snorted, raising a skeptical brow. "I believe you when you say you feel better," he said. "I don't believe I had anything to do with that, however – I feel like I barely see you these days – perhaps a certain… Mr. Mysterious?"
Bex laughed, and shoved him playfully. He grinned in response.
"You may have him now, but I hope you know I'll always be here for you, Bex."
"I know you will. And I'm here for you. I love you, Rowan."
"Love you, too, babe." Her best friend stood, clapping his hands on his thighs as he rose. "Now – Italian beefs?"
"Gods, I thought you would never ask."