Snapekat Alley

Madame Potion: Chapter Twenty-One. The Finale

2008-02-01T01:59:07Z

Heaven Bend to Take My Hand

If it takes a whole life, I won’t break, I won’t bend

It’ll all be worth it, worth it in the end

Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

And when the stars have all burned out

You’ll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind

Answer -- Sarah McLachlan

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ve got to do something, Snape,” a breathless, frightened looking Death Eater said as soon as Snape came through the doors of the orphanage. “He’s gone mad, he has.”

Snape’s gut clenched, but he charged on. It was like running to the gallows. If the Dark Lord was angry, it would surely be Snape he would be looking to take it out on.

The screeching wails reached his ears long before he came to the doors of the wizard’s chambers. He entered without knocking and was met with the sight of the Dark Lord crumpled into a heap on the ground, screaming like a wounded animal and clawing at his head.

“My lord!” Snape gasped as he too went to his knees. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

Turning his red, burning eyes to Snape, the Dark Lord bared his fang-like teeth.

“YOU!” he snarled. “What did you do? What is happening?”

Instinctively, Snape slid back from him. “My lord, if something went wrong during the coupling…” he began.

“It was the potions!” he roared. “What did you put in the potions?”

“I followed your instructions exactly, my lord,” Snape insisted, trying with all his might to keep his conscience guilt free and his mind subservient. “Even when I questioned the ingredients and procedures, I did just as you directed me.”

The piercing eyes held him, scanning him for deception. “I think you lie, Severus. I think you and that damnable whore lied and conspired against Lord Voldemort!”

“No, my lord, how could we?” he pleaded. There was no effort in sounding appropriately terrified because he was.

“I’ve allowed you far too much. I should have never trusted you again after my return.” There was a ferocious threat in the wizard’s face, though he was still hunched over like a dying bug. “I know too little about your clever mind, my faithful servant. There are things you hide from your master.”

“I hide nothing, my lord,” Snape insisted. “Anything you wish to know or see is yours.”

Snape felt a weak attempt to enter his mind from the dark wizard. But hardly had his carefully controlled thoughts been touched when the pilfering retreated. The Dark Lord groaned from the drain of energy the magic expended.

“My lord, there was a combination of several ingredients that I feared would have a negative effect on your powers,” Snape began cautiously. “It is reasonable to assume that this handicap is only temporary and in time your powers will return at full force. And of course this was all in effort to gain the ultimate power of immortality. That is surely worth the risk.”

“I know why this was done and the risks involved!” he snapped in reply. “But I recall no errors in my original plans.”

“This magic was untested, my lord,” Snape reminded. “In theory it may have seemed perfect, but that is never a substitute for execution. I remind my students all the time…”

“I AM NOT ONE OF YOUR STUDENTS!” raged the Dark Lord. “And you are no longer a teacher! Do not question me, and do not lecture the most powerful wizard of the age about rudimentary potion making.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Snape murmured, backing away farther.

“You will fix this,” hissed the man as he began to uncoil himself and sit straighter. “You will be on a very tight, very short leash, and you will do exactly as you are told. If my powers do not return to full strength very soon, you will be punished beyond recognition.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Snape hurried from the orphanage, he found two mongrel Death Eaters, Runyon and Koontz, at his heels. He whipped about to face them. They remainded in place, staring him down.

“The Dark Lord said you needed… assistance,” Runyon said in an oily tone.

“He’s given us orders to kill if you resist,” Koontz added with dark glee. “You’re to take us to the Vessel, and we are to report back her whereabouts.”

“Seems you’ve fallen out of favor, Severus,” the first commented with a smile of gray, crooked teeth. “I guess Bellatrix was right after all.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at the pair. “I have no idea what delusions Bellatrix Lestrange has been feeding you based on her own insecurities, but let me assure you that no one else could even begin to carry the position I’ve been assigned. Thankless and dubious as it is, in the end, it will be I the Dark Lord will have to thank for his success.”

Silent, resentful stares passed between them.

“If you insist on following, at least allow me space enough to walk,” he said in an indifferent, clipped tone.

Snape had only moments to devise a plan. The Dark Lord wanted him to know how little he was trusted and remind him how far down he could fall. But allowing Snape to know he was being watched gave him a small enough edge to perhaps outsmart them all. The group appeared at the end of the street in the dreary mill town Snape had called home since childhood.

“What is this place?” Runyon asked with a curl of revulsion to his lip.

“So judgmental, Runyon? If I recall, you came from a Scottish fishing village,” Snape smoothly replied. “Koontz here complains that you still smell of fish.”

“Oi, that’s a lie, Snape!” Koontz interjected. “I mean… maybe when you first joined up, you did a bit,” he explained more quietly to his partner.

The two groused in quiet snarls until they entered Snape’s home. It had not been used for some time, and at first he worried his companions might pick up on the excessive dust and mustiness and quickly figure out they were being led down a dead end.

“Goh,” snorted Runyon again in disgust, “you been making the girl stay in this rat trap?”

“She is well cared for,” Snape uttered through clenched teeth as he cast a weak light in his sitting room. “I was under no obligation to make her accommodations luxurious.”

“So, where is she?” Koontz asked impatiently. “We need to report back to the Dark Lord.”

“Right here.” Snape drew his wand and silently commanded a sweeping flash of light upon the pair. They hadn’t even had time to raise their wands in defense.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When he was finally allowed a few moments to think, Snape wasn’t sure he could risk going back to Grimmauld Place. What if there were others following him? What if the Dark Lord had somehow managed a tracer spell on him? Snape used every counter curse and protective spell he knew to make sure nothing trailed him or gave away his location. Somehow he had to get back and see to Davindra.

Runyon and Koontz sat in a semi-coherent, semi-drooling state back at Spinner’s End. After an Imperius Curse ensured that their report to the Dark Lord assured the Vessel’s safety and Snape’s obedience, they had returned to Spinner’s End like trustworthy, simple dogs. Their orders to watch Snape were almost complied with as they stationed themselves outside his basement workshop. They would not move until ordered to do so. Even if it were days. Snape had Disapparated back to London directly from his home. He couldn’t stop the compulsion to glance nervously over his shoulder every few seconds.

It was slightly unnerving to realize that as soon as he stepped over the threshold of the decrepit old house, a long-held breath of relief rushed out of his body. Had this house, in which he was not even welcome, become more of a sanctuary than his own home? Perhaps it was because he knew that someone anxiously awaited his return there. And perhaps he was as anxious to return to the only scarce bit of comfort and love he had ever known in his wretched life.

Immediately his eyes searched for Davindra. He was surprised she wasn’t waiting for him, even though his own orders were for her to be kept sedated and calm. Instead Potter and his sidekicks found him first.

Potter assaulted Snape with rapid fire questions about the Dark Lord’s condition and if the poison had worked. Snape answered that the plan had worked as well as could have been expected, but the Dark Lord was highly suspicious and Snape had barely gotten away with his life. They would need to devise a plan soon on how to make the final strike against the Dark Army.

His eyes went up the stairs to where he suspected Davindra might be, and he couldn’t keep his body from following. More important than any plan or victories for the cause, Snape had to be certain that she was alright. Assuring them he would give a full disclosure in a formal meeting of the Order as soon as everyone was gathered, he excused himself and hurried up the stairs. A silent beckoning demanded him to quickly find her; it grew stronger and more insistent by the second until his hand opened the door to her room.

Snape found the room quite dark except for the weak light pouring in from the tall, narrow window. A chilly breeze swept through the room, making bed clothes flutter. In front of the open window stood Davindra, her hands gripping the sill and her body leaning over the edge as if seeking something she had dropped. A cold sensation that had nothing to do with the temperature washed through Snape.

“Davindra, what are you doing?” he asked quietly, not wishing to startle her.

She didn’t answer nor move. Snape carefully walked toward her until he could reach out and pull her away from the window. Her hands continued to grip the sill as though unwilling to relinquish her post or grave mission. It took firm guidance before he heard her nails scrape across the old wood as she was finally pulled free.

Snape wrapped his arms around her to keep her from rushing forward again and also in some effort to comfort her.

“Did you think that was really the best solution?” he asked, trying to keep the anger and relief out of his voice. “Did you think I struggled to make my way back here just to collect your broken body from the pavement? Is that how you would repay me?”

“I can’t make it stop,” she muttered. “I can’t make it go away. I don’t want to see it anymore, but it won’t stop. I keep seeing his face and those eyes. Over and over and over again. It just won’t stop.”

“Had you not considered what my fate would be if I had to report back to the Dark Lord that the Vessel had thrown herself from a window while supposedly under my care?”

She wilted against him with a slight groan.

“If you would just sleep, just rest,” Snape continued in a kinder tone, “then I’m sure some of the memory would fade.”

“No, it only gets worse if I close my eyes.” There was a strangled sob amongst her words. Then she turned to him, her face painted with heavy desperation, and clutched his cloak in her fingers. “But you could Obliviate me! You can take it all away. Make it like it never happened in my head!”

“Davindra, I can’t do that. He would know. And he would know that I did it.” Denying her request and looking into her eyes and seeing the crushing disappointment was more torture for him than she could ever know. “I’m sorry, but you have to carry this, at least for now.”

Her head sank to his shoulder, and her crying continued in quiet, pitiful whines.

Only after the windows were warded did Snape feel safe leaving to retrieve a stronger calming potion. And only when he swore that he would immediately return and not leave her side as she slept did she release him from her grasp.

“Lupin!” Snape bellowed, baring his teeth and narrowing his glare as he caught sight of the drab wizard coming from the kitchen. “I told you to keep an eye on her and make sure she stayed calm. So why was it I narrowly caught her halfway out a third story window?”

“I left Kreacher to watch over her,” Lupin snapped defensively. “She was inconsolable after you left, and it was all I could do to get her to take the potions you instructed. I gave her as much Calming Draught as I dared. I went searching for something stronger.” He held a bottle in front of Snape’s face as though to prove his story.

Snape snapped the bottle from Lupin, giving him a disgusted look.

“Is she alright?” Lupin asked in an appropriately concerned tone. “I can’t imagine why Kreacher would have left her.”

“He left because he doesn’t have to take orders from you!” Snape informed him. “Where is Hero Potter, anyway?”

“He left with Ron and Hermione right after you returned,” Lupin muttered darkly. “I tried to get him to wait, Order members are on their way, but he was very impatient. He wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. But I suspect it’s the last Horcrux. He thinks that since Voldemort is now weakened and distracted, he might have a better chance.”

Snape would have had a hundred sharp words of critique for the impulsive actions of the boy if he only had the energy. Right now the idea of Potter getting himself killed and endangering everything Davindra had just sacrificed herself for was too enraging and mystifying to even address. Where would they truly be if the boy failed?

“Of all the impetuous, stupid things…” Snape spat. “What of our plans? What of the Order? Does that selfish little shit-stain ever consider anyone else for one second? Why didn’t you stop them?”

For once Lupin didn’t correct him. He looked equally as exasperated. “He is not one to accept orders or even suggestions. Without putting them all in a Body-Bind, I couldn’t very well detain him.”

“What does he know of the last Horcrux?” Snape asked.

“He’s said very little, but I believe he suspects it’s at Hogwarts. I would wager that’s where they’ve gone.” The werewolf sighed tiredly. “Maybe we just have to trust Harry on this.”

Snape made a noise of revulsion. “Why? He’s never proven himself trustworthy. And he never returns trust in others. Once again he’s run off to fight a battle that he perceives as his alone, jeopardizing everything everyone else has sacrificed for. And for what? Glory? So the world can once again acknowledge the great Harry Potter as the savior of us all?”

“What do you know of this Horcrux?” Lupin eyed him intensely. “Is there something you haven’t told us, told Harry?”

Dumbledore had not divulged that piece of information easily. It was as hard won as his trust. Finally the old man had known he had to tell someone in case Harry failed. But Snape had been instructed to keep a fair distance between them. He wasn’t to help in the task unless there was no other way. He felt uncertain if informing Lupin now would be beneficial or detrimental to Potter’s quest.

“Unfortunately, you’re right, Lupin,” he finally agreed in a somber tone. “Harry is going to have to fulfill his own destiny. It would be nice if the freedom of the entire world didn’t also hang in the balance of his success.”

Lupin gave him a puzzled and surprised expression.

“Alert me as soon as everyone has gathered,” Snape said as he climbed back up the stairs.

Davindra was finally settled into a dreamless sleep, and Snape stood in front of a packed kitchen. Order members seemed to lean in to hear him speak. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic. He told them all he knew, all he suspected, all he feared. The last thing he wished to do was paint a prettier picture than what reality showed. But he could see the group glomming on to the scant words of hope and attempting to build great successes out of them.

“We have to remember,” he said loudly over the rising din of excited voices, “this battle has just begun. The Dark Lord is far from finished. This is barely a chink in his armor. And Merlin only knows what Potter’s plans are since he absconded before bothering to inform us. It’s imperative that he live to face the Dark Lord, but not before everything is aligned to assure victory.”

“What are you not telling us, Snape?” Mad-Eye Moody barked from somewhere near the back of the room. “Why is it Harry’s job alone to take down the darkest wizard this world has ever known? In the end, why does it matter who does it, as long as it’s done?”

“It’s because Harry is the key,” Lupin’s calm voice announced from somewhere to Snape’s left. “Isn’t it, Severus? This has to do with the prophecy and his scar and the night his parents were killed. He’s the last Horcrux. Isn’t that the final piece of the puzzle you’ve been hiding from us?”

Again the room burst into loud voices of exclamations and accusations as Snape stared bitterly at the calm, scarred man who seemed as determined as Potter to turn the resistance into chaos.

“SILENCE!” Snape shouted.

When order finally fell uneasily in the room, Snape continued. “As Lupin so tactfully disclosed, Dumbledore did believe that Harry held the last piece of the Dark Lord’s soul. Based on the connection the two share, the unsuccessful attempt on Harry’s life, and the already fractured nature of the Dark Lord’s soul, it has seemed the most logical philosophy.”

“And no one told Harry?” Another voice rose in accusing shock. “He’s been running around as a marked wizard, and only you and Dumbledore knew?”

Again more grumbling and bitter words floated about the air. Snape gave them all a slow, grim, sweeping gaze before he answered.

“I said nothing because it was my orders to keep silent,” Snape reminded them. “Dumbledore said nothing for any number of reasons only he himself could explain. But I suspect he believed that Potter would discover the truth on his own in time. And perhaps if it was his own to discover, he would handle his fate more gallantly than if someone just sat him down and told him it was his destiny to die for everyone else’s freedom. As it is, he’s managed to wipe out six Horcruxes.”

“So, does he know now? Is that why he’s gone?” A new voice asked.

“I suspect so,” Snape answered.

“And what of the Vessel?”

“She served her purpose.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What good did you think that would do, Lupin?” Snape snarled quietly at the man who still wore the smug look of satisfaction after the crowd had disbursed.

Slowly Lupin stood. “If we all work together, then Harry can succeed. But that can’t happen if you still insist on keeping secrets.” He then stalked out of the kitchen.

Snape glared at the retreating man and then at the door that slammed after him. If he thought he could, he’d take Davindra and leave that house right then. Let them fight their precious, holy battle themselves. Sickeningly enough though, he knew even his hard, stubborn conscience wouldn’t allow him to abandon the cause.

For now they would wait. They would give Potter a few days while they made their plans. But the end was coming soon. Snape knew he should at least begin the pretense of making the healing potion for the Dark Lord, but his feet would not carry him to the cellar work-room. Instead he climbed the stairs and wrapped himself around Davindra’s peacefully resting body and fell asleep with his nose buried in her soft, warm hair.

The next day was the beginning of the end, Snape surmised as he started his day in the cellar. Davindra had taken the potion that would purge her body of any possibility of conception. She spent the day curled into a ball, fighting vicious cramps and heavy bleeding. But she did it silently and without complaint. Her tears seemed to have run dry, but her mood was no less depressed. He found it hard to even look at her. When she asked if the plan had worked, if the Dark Lord was truly weakened, Snape found he took little pleasure in telling her ‘yes.’ Likewise, she looked no less relieved.

Though he tried to force his mind to the work in front of him, all he could do was wonder how badly he had permanently damaged her. Something was gone from those imperturbable, pale eyes that had always before burned like ice on fire. Would she never be the same? Would she ever forgive him? Could he ever justify it within himself? No matter if the Dark Lord fell or if they all were sentenced to wither under his oppressive, tyrannical rule, could they live with what they were forced to become? What was truly worth sacrificing? He gave up, his mind too full of unanswerable, philosophical, emotional questions. Maybe Davindra did have the right idea. Maybe a dive from several stories up would be the best answer for them both in the end.

Back upstairs, he sat stiffly on the bed. She lay next to him, her fingers laced through his. Every time another wave of cramps would attack, she would bear down on his hand, digging her nails into his flesh. He didn’t utter a word. He deserved much more than this minor share of the pain.

Davindra let out a breath she had been holding, and her grip eased. She looked up at him.

“I know you’re sitting there hating yourself. I want you to stop it.”

“Who would you suggest as a more fitting target?” he asked.

Pulling herself up, she sat against him, leaning on his shoulder. “At this point I don’t know if being angry is even of any use.”

Snape looked at her finally. Her eyes were clearer, but the haunted look had yet to totally leave her. He pulled his arm free and put it around her, nestling her against his chest. It was such a familiar, comfortable thing to do.

“What do you see happening after this is all over?” she asked.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean you, us. Say the war ends tomorrow. Then what?”

A snort of ironic amusement left him. “I’ve hardly given it any thought.” His brain was too enmeshed in trying to figure out how to get through the task at hand. Mostly he hadn’t been so bold as to assume that he’d live to see the end of the war.

“I’ve needed to think about something,” she continued. “I need to have a reason to try to make it through. There’s still going to be a world out there after this is all over, and I still have to figure out where I’m going to be in it.”

She moved her head to look up at him. “Let’s just say that the Dark Lord is defeated. We can go about our lives however we wish. What would you like? What do you want?”

Snape sighed. “I don’t waste my time with daydreams.”

An exasperated sound rose from her, and she sat up straight next to him. “Damnit, Severus, why do you have to be so obtuse?” she said angrily.

“Obtuse?” His eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

“Why do I have to do all the work in this relationship?” Davindra threw her hands into the air in frustration. Then a cramp caused her to wince and clutch her abdomen. Snape reached out to ease her back down on the bed, but she shoved his hand away.

“What are you on about now?” Snape asked impatiently.

Still biting her lip to get through the pain, she raised her pale eyes to him, and when she spoke, her voice was barely more affable than a snarl.

“When this is all over, you had better marry me, Severus Snape.”

He wondered exactly what expression he made when his mind affirmed what his ears had heard.

“Marry you?” he finally sputtered in disbelief. The look on her face told him he shouldn’t dare laugh or mock the command he had just been issued. She had had to suffer enough abuse already.

Though he could hardly imagine a day of his life without her, the last thing he had ever considered was uniting them eternally as man and wife. There were simply too many impediments on that particular path.

“Davindra,” he began with as much sympathy as he could summon. “I’m nearly twenty years older than you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care and that hasn’t stopped us yet.”

Snape looked for his next objection, but each one could be easily deflated by her, he was certain.

“Under the best circumstances, my reputation will never be viewed as honorable,” he attempted. “I’m not even sure how I would support myself, much less a wife or a…” his eyes darted to her stomach, which she still held tenderly, and he swallowed hard. “…family. I simply don’t have anything to offer you. I’ve never even considered myself a marrying man.”

She gave him a look that simmered between stubborn child and determined woman. “Do I need to recount everything I have sacrificed? Everything you’ve ever asked of me, I’ve done.” There was a fierce threat in her voice. “This is the only thing I want. The only thing I’ve ever wanted. After it is all over, I deserve at least this.”

She certainly knew how to dismantle his defense. How could he put his pledge as an eternal bachelor against her argument? Actually, she deserved far more for her sacrifices than a lifelong commitment to a ruined Potions teacher and professed murderer. But there would be no persuading her otherwise at this point.

“There is still a long way to go yet,” Snape started with great caution and calm. “No one can yet foresee what or when the end of this war will be. We have no way of knowing what the future will bring. I think this is a topic best put aside for now. We’ll discuss it later when things are less uncertain.”

Davindra gave him a frown, but another cramp caused her to redirect her energy. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will hit you with a Killing Curse before then.”

He had to smirk at her sarcasm even during such an emotionally and physically painful time. A glimmer of hope that a bit of the old Davindra could once again emerge soothed him. Reaching out, he pulled her to him, and she reluctantly settled against his chest.

“One can only hope,” Snape replied coolly. “Though that does remind me that I should probably sleep with one eye open around you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After two days there was still no word from Potter or his friends. Snape was summoned back to the Dark Lord, and with him he took a weak formula he would hope to pass off as a strengthening potion. The Dark Lord looked better than Snape had hoped. It appeared that he had regained some of his strength on his own. He took the potion from Snape, but with a suspicious eye. He didn’t consume the draught, but set it aside.

“So, the boy is at Hogwarts,” the Dark Lord said smoothly with a thin smile.

“Is he, my lord?” Snape asked with mild interest.

Runyon and Koontz stood off to the side, having come in with Snape. Still Imperiused, they would cause him no problems. The Dark Lord paid them no attention.

“Why do you not know this?” the wizard hissed at Snape.

“I have done only as you’ve told me, my lord,” he answered serenely. “I have worked on strengthening potions for you and kept an eye on the Vessel’s progress. I haven’t left my home.”

“And is she with child?”

“It’s only been a few days, my lord. I cannot tell as of yet.”

Barely a grunt was returned from the master. “If she fails to conceive, kill her,” he muttered airily. “Lord Voldemort can find another.”

“But I thought she was special,” Snape said, concealing his bewilderment and anxiety. “I thought she was selected from birth specifically for this purpose.”

“Any pureblood witch would do,” the Dark Lord replied, adjusting himself in the worn chair he occupied as though it were a fine throne. “She was no more special than Madame Collins made her to be. We see that now. A more willing participant might be a better selection anyway. If this girl does not produce an heir, she is of no use. She’s a detriment. Get rid of her.”

Snape’s stomach dropped, but he bowed respectfully and replied appropriately. Though he would kill himself before he’d raise his wand at her.

Rising from his shabby throne, the Dark Lord walked the room, but slowly and carefully, as though his steps had to be planned.

“Now there is something more important. Potter is at Lord Voldemort’s disposal. He waits at our old alma mater and we know he waits for me.” The skeletal wizard spoke maniacally as he moved about the room. “We’ll dispatch him, and the rest of civilization will crumple at my feet. When The Boy Who Lived dies, so too will their pitiful hope. When we have total subjugation, we can then recreate my immortality.”

“But my lord, your Horcruxes are destroyed,” Snape probed carefully. “Do you not have concern for your life? You’re vulnerable.”

“Lord Voldemort is not an ordinary wizard!” shouted the Dark Lord as he spun about to Snape. “And Lord Voldemort is not a boy running about the countryside playing a dangerous game of hide and seek! You dare question my powers for bringing down a paltry group of children?”

“Of course not. I mean no disrespect,” Snape attempted to soothe. “I simply am concerned for the timing of this conquest. Would it not be better executed when you were stronger?”

“And wait for the resistance to grow? And wait for those children to organize themselves into something of an army?” The wizard again began to look crazed and ill. He wobbled back to his chair and sat. “We do this now, tomorrow. Lord Voldemort grows tired waiting for success to be delivered. I will capture it myself.”

Snape left the orphanage. Runyon and Koontz followed. Walking away from the orphanage, the two had to jog to keep up.

Snape turned down an alley, and the two trailed like obedient, curious dogs. But as they rounded the corner, they faced Snape’s raised wand and a Killing Curse. He transfigured them into bones and tossed them into nearby rubbish bins.

If it was war the Dark Lord was seeking, let it begin now, Snape decided.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The small group of Order of the Phoenix members heard Snape’s report and went to pass it on to others. Tomorrow they would gather at Hogwarts to defend Harry, the school, and everything they held sacred. It gave them only a few hours to prepare and say good-bye to loved ones.

Davindra sat in the back of the kitchen listening, but not saying a word. After the meeting adjourned, she retreated back upstairs.

When Snape had finished all of his arrangements, he followed her. She was again standing by the window, but this time only looking out, an intense, fierce look upon her face.

“I’m going,” she announced to him.

“You’re not,” he answered as he closed the door and took off his cloak.

“Yes.”

“NO.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Can’t I?” Snape gave her a threatening glare.

She was undaunted as usual by his threats. “You can’t ask me to watch you go out that door and just sit here and wait to see if you return!”

Approaching him with her arms crossed, she looked so much like the obstinate girl he had argued with so many times in his dungeon office over grades, opinions, and most of all, their relationship.

“That is exactly what you will do because I will forbid you to go out there and risk your life for this hopeless cause,” he snapped.

“If it’s so hopeless and there is no chance for any of us, then let me at least be with you. That’s where I’d want to spend my final moments anyway.”

He snorted sardonically. “More of your hopeless romantic hyperbole.”

She glared at him, then attempted to storm past him out of the room. But he caught her arm as she passed him and held her there.

“This isn’t how I wanted to spend this evening,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to argue, I just want…”

There was a flicker of panic deep in her eyes as she regarded him. It gave Snape a fleeting glance of her worst fears. The one thing about them that always worked was now tainted. The same sickening guilt that had plagued Snape ever since she had come home from the Dark Lord’s ravages engulfed him stronger than ever.

Taking out his wand, he pointed it at her, and her eyes widened in concern.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her breath obviously held.

“Something I should have done days ago if I hadn’t been such a coward. Obliviate.”

Like a pencil erasing lines from a paper, the events of the past few days were smeared and smudged away. Not gone completely, but faint enough that she would not be tormented by vivid memories every time a man touched her. So too were the memories of wanting to throw herself out a window, vicious cramps and blood, and the discussion of marriage. One couldn’t pick and chose what would be wiped out with the Obliviate spell. It was all or nothing.

Davindra’s face and body relaxed. Her eyes seemed dreamy and unfocused for a moment. Finally she fixed her gaze on him, and as if having just woken from a deep sleep she asked, “What happened?”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, pulling her to the bed. “Just rest a while.”

She obeyed and laid down, but then raised herself up again. “What day is it?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied as he unbuttoned his coat.

Stroking her forehead, she quietly asked, “What did you do? Why is it all so fuzzy?”

Snape sat next to her on the bed. “It’s better this way.”

Reaching out, he gently swept her dark bangs from her eyes. His fingers brushed against her brows and down her cheek.

A soft smile touched her lips and she lightly stroked his arm. At last the icy, jade eyes melted into warm, familiar pools that welcomed the sight of him.

She was right, he realized. If there was no hope and this were the last night of the world, there wouldn’t be anyplace else he’d rather be. There was no other person he would rather spend his last living moments with.

When she pulled him against her and guided his lips to hers, the world could have ended and Snape wouldn’t have cared. As in the early days of their affair, they took time to peel each other from their clothing and experience every inch of flesh bared to them. Caresses and kisses went from slow and luxurious to deep and forceful as their passion heightened.

Buried deep inside her and rocking against her soft, warm body, Snape realized he was actually very scared. He was terrified. This made him want to live. She made him want to fight not for freedom or for honor, but just for the chance to come home and see her face and know that this bliss awaited him.

Their hands wound together and Snape kissed her fingers. She let go and threaded them through his hair. Her moans reverberated through his chest, sending tingles down his stomach. Every sensation was amplified and exquisite. Would it be their last? Would this moment sustain him through brutal battle and even death? Or would he live to put a ring on the hand that trailed down his back, pulling him into her further?

At last their quaking, sweating bodies collapsed together in a breathless heap. And as Snape’s heart began to slow and his mind began to once again gather the worries around him, he couldn’t help but hold her tighter.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” she asked, her lips against his forehead.

“Yes,” he answered dully.

“Promise me you’ll come back.” She squeezed him hard enough to catch his breath.

“It will be my greatest ambition.”

She whispered her love for him over and over until they both fell asleep, wrapped tightly around each other.

It was still dark when a wild pounding at the door sent him scrambling out of bed and reaching for his wand before his eyes were even open.

“Snape! Get up! There’s been a message!” a voiced called. “We’re leaving as soon as everyone is assembled.”

“I’ll be down directly,” he replied. But instead of speedily dressing, he sat back on the bed, his head in his hands. Seconds ago he had been secure and happy in his ignorant slumber, Davindra’s silky, warm body draped over his. Now the cold, brutal world was calling him out. There was no going back.

Davindra’s hands stroked his back, and then her cheek came to his shoulder.

“Let me go with you,” she said.

“No.” His head snapped up and he stood to dress.

“I can’t bear it if something happens to you,” she said as she watched him gather his clothes. “I can’t sit here in this horrible house waiting to hear the outcome.”

“No, Davindra,” he said more firmly.

“I’m brave. I’m a good fighter,” she insisted, now getting out of bed herself. “I can handle a wand better than Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley.”

“That I have no doubt of,” he said, pulling on his boots. “But the fact of the matter is: I don’t want you there! Do you think I will be able to do my job when all I can do is wonder if you’re lying dead somewhere or, worse, captured by Death Eaters?”

“This is unfair, Severus,” she said. “It’s cruel.”

Snape stood and went to her, taking her beautiful face in his hands. He pushed a few wild strands of black hair away.

“If you truly love me as you say, then you will do this for me.”

Downstairs, there was a brief meeting. A stag Patronus had arrived to announce that members of the Dark Army had already infiltrated the school. There were more than the ill-equipped teachers and students could fend off. There was talk that the Dark Lord was on the grounds and awaiting his moment to strike.

Order members came and went through the door of Grimmauld Place without caution. Hurried, last-minute orders were shouted left and right.

Davindra was dressed and standing helplessly as she watched everyone assemble themselves. Mostly she watched Snape. Her eyes hungrily took him in as he spoke with various groups. It took all of his concentration to not allow her pleading looks to take him away from the tasks that the Order depended upon.

One by one, they left the house and Disapparated on the street. A few were remaining behind, mostly those too young or too old to fight. Then there was Davindra and Mrs. Weasley, who had both been given orders to stay behind by the men they loved.

Snape was about to leave. He thought once of just walking out the door and not looking back. But a choked sob stopped him, fixing his feet to the floor. The whispered cry of his name made him turn.

There had been many times that Snape had had to look at that shattered expression on Davindra’s face. The one that told of her heart breaking and her dreams being crumpled. And almost every time it was because of him. Once again he was leaving her with pain and misery. This time he wasn’t even sure he would be coming back to attempt to make amends. Why did she love him when all he did was abuse her affections?

For once he was glad that she did. He was glad that someone had stood next to him and devoted themselves to him despite his wretched moods and temper. He was glad that someone had bothered to know him enough to see that he needed to be loved. And he was glad that she was there, on the eve of his destruction, with tears in her eyes and her heart breaking because she loved him.

Snape strode forward and grabbed her, crushing her body against his in a fierce grip. Resting his mouth near her ear, he spoke in slow, deliberate words which only she would hear.

“I’ll only say this once, so remember it forever. I love you with all my body and soul, with every fiber of my being, and above all others including myself.”

He felt her body convulse with silent sobs and her arms squeeze him powerfully in return. With great effort he pulled himself from her. Her hands were reluctant to let go, so he had to forcefully pry them from his cloak. But he would look at her no more. Snape turned without another glance and nearly ran out the door. More fearful than the battle ahead was the possibility that she might see the tears he thought were forever dry were threatening a return.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The battlefield was frenzied anarchy. Acidic smoke of burned stone and flesh filled the air. His body ached and stung from the blows of innumerable curses. Screams and yells came from everywhere. Another hex came inches from his face. A familiar cackle arose from the din. She looked no better than him, but her eyes were wild with blood lust. “Filthy traitor,” she screeched. “I have you now!”

He raised his wand. ‘Davindra…’ A vivid green light filled him. ‘Davindra…’ It was almost like drowning in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry…’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The hours ticked by minute by long, painful minute. Davindra and several other minor Order members sat around the kitchen table awaiting news. Mrs. Weasley put pot after pot of tea on the table that no one could drink. An elderly wizard paced in front of the fire. A few younger children silently passed in and out of the kitchen, never settling anywhere for long.

A sudden, cold sensation spread through Davindra’s body as she sat with an equally cold cup of tea in her hands. She shivered and looked about to see if anyone else had felt it. Everyone sat as they were. Davindra couldn’t breathe. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

She got up to leave. She could join the battle. But they stopped her. Mrs. Weasley reminded her of Severus’s words.

“But what if he needs me?” she asked, panicked hysteria threatening to drive her insane.

“There’s nothing you can do that the Order members can’t,” the kind woman soothed. “He’ll need you here when he comes back.”

Davindra sat back down with a heavy sensation of dread and grief pressing upon her heart.

Finally, a weasel Patronus snaked its way in to announce that the Dark Lord had fallen. The Weasley family members in battle were accounted for, but so many others had fallen. They were to prepare for wounded and dead.

“But who?” Davindra asked the fading specter. “Who died?”

Mrs. Weasley began to cry. “Oh, Harry,” she sobbed.

Why was she crying, Davindra wondered? They had anticipated Harry’s death. If the Dark Lord fell, then it was because Harry had sacrificed himself. But what of Severus?

The first person through the door was a young man Davindra recognized as a student from Hogwarts. He had little information except the Dark Lord was dead and his living followers were being rounded up for Azkaban.

The next group gave the shocking information that Harry Potter himself had overcome the pronouncement of death and actually lived after striking down the evil wizard who shared his soul. There was such amazement and relief in Grimmauld Place that for a second even Davindra had to feel grateful for the victory.

“But what of Severus?” she still asked.

They didn’t know.

Fred and George came in, dragging their father with them. They had seen Severus fighting Death Eaters but didn’t know what had become of him. Talk quickly turned to the defeat and Harry’s miraculous survival. Mrs. Weasley cried more, but this time tears of joy at seeing her family.

More came and went. Only tiny bits of news followed. When Mundungus Fletcher hobbled in, Davindra grabbed him.

“Where is Severus?” she demanded. “No one will tell me. Where is he?”

The dirty, ragged man looked at her nervously. “Las’ I saw he was still out there,” he muttered.

Lupin entered behind him and gave the man under her interrogation a look of warning. Davindra turned her focus to the werewolf.

“You know!” she pronounced. “Tell me! Is he alive? Is he dead? Where is he?”

Lupin started to speak but seemed unable to find the words. Instead he just sadly shook his head and looked at her with tragic, watery eyes.

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” Davindra screamed and clutched Lupin’s jacket, shaking him with all the strength she possessed.

Still that piteous, sorrowful look didn’t flicker from his face, and he could only shake his head in silent apology.

Something in her had whispered that dreadful news hours before. But she had insisted upon ignoring it because it was too horrible to imagine. Now it seemed impossible to ignore. The confirmation was standing in front of her. Yet, part of her insisted if she didn’t see his broken, still body for herself, she didn’t have to believe it. Perhaps Lupin had been mistaken. Severus was very clever. It could all be part of a crafty trick. Or it could be that it was Lupin’s way of getting back at Severus for all the times they had fought and disagreed. Davindra was well aware of the deep, longstanding dislike between the two. There were a hundred ways she could justify her hope and cling for just a while longer to a slim delusion.

“Where is he?” she again demanded, this time with anger in her voice. “I want to see him for myself.”

When words finally came from Lupin’s moving lips, his voice was choked and raspy. “Harry stayed behind to find him.”

She would wait. Davindra sat herself down on the stairs to watch the door. When Severus walked through it, she would be the first to greet him. She would throw herself into his arms and not care who saw them as she proclaimed her every emotion for him out loud. She would never again miss a moment to tell him how much she loved him. And he loved her. He had said so. She’d always known. But finally he had spoken the words she had been longing to hear for years. They need never again fear who knew what about them. They would be free to be together. Both of them finally released from their bonds to other people and other duties. From now on it would just be them.

Slipping once again into the easy daydream of their life together made the wait more bearable. She could disregard Mrs. Weasley’s request that she come eat or Lupin’s suggestions that she rest or take an offered potion. She would eat, rest, and continue living after Severus was home. Her aching back and her numb rear end from sitting on a hard, wooden step would be soon forgotten when she saw him.

Maybe it was hours, maybe it was a day. The door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place opened to bring many returning heroes. Each time, Davindra jumped in anticipation of Severus’ dark form and swirling robes. Instead, Order members and their relatives looked shocked and startled to find her about to pounce on them as soon as they crossed the threshold. Disappointment and sickening dread would begin to creep back upon her when she would insist her mind stayed buried in the snug and happy plans she had begun constructing for Severus’ and her future. So far she had decided on a quiet wedding in the garden of Grandmother Collins’s cottage.

When finally Harry opened the door, Davindra found she couldn’t stand. He moved as if exhaustion possessed him down to his marrow. Dark circles could be seen even through his glasses and dried blood was crusted from head to toe. He carried one arm close to his body as if it was wounded, and a large bloody hole in the knee of his pants was evidence as to why he was favoring his left leg.

Almost instantly, a group descended upon him. Congratulations and inquiries filled the air as several people attempted to touch him at once. Some just wanted to feel that he was alive and whole, some simply wanted to express their joy. He seemed little interested in any of it.

Their eyes met. Davindra still had not moved from her seat on the stairs. The crowd quieted as though they knew something important was about to be spoken.

“Where is he?”

She had asked the question so many times that the words seemed to have lost their meaning. And for a moment Davindra had to wonder if she had even spoken them correctly. But she must have because Harry slowly nodded.

“I found him.” His voice sounded different, more hollow, more quiet. Perhaps older.

Davindra stood and looked to the open doorway, waiting for Severus to walk through or be helped in by someone. Instead she saw nothing, but felt a slight breeze blow past her. Harry raised his hand in front of him and grasped at the air. His invisibility cloak slid from the body of Severus Snape, which lay in a peaceful pose several feet off the floor.

Was he resting? Had they put him into a deep sleep because of his injuries? Davindra cocked her head and scrutinized the form. His robes were filthy and bloody. Buttons were torn from his jacket and long slashes opened the fabric at his chest and forearms. A splatter of blood painted the side of his face and hanks of hair stuck to his cheek. His face was the color of bleached parchment. His lips were a pale purple.

This wasn’t right, Davindra said to herself. Her heart sped up in her chest and seemed to pump a current of ice water into her body. With one trembling hand she reached up to touch his face and found him as cold as a slab of meat. There was no more denying. There would be no more plans. There would be no garden wedding. There would be no future. Severus was dead.

She didn’t allow anyone to touch him nor her either. Davindra barricaded herself in the sitting room with his body, securing the door with a charm no one knew how to break and everyone was certain she had learned from Snape himself. At first the group stood around wondering what to do. They were torn between allowing the girl her grief and the demands of propriety. The sounds of her screaming and wailing were more unnerving than the sounds of battle to many. Perhaps because it seemed to go on and on and remind them all of someone they had lost.

Harry and Lupin finally encouraged the others to let her be. It was Harry who said that if anyone deserved to be loudly mourned it was the man who had saved not only him numerous times, but in the end, everyone else also.

They took turns sitting outside the locked door, listening to her shriek and sob for a solid day. On the second day the sounds became pitiful moans and whimpers like an animal dying. On the third day it was quiet, and people began to wonder if they had done the right thing. Had Davindra taken her own life in a fit of anguish? Just when Harry had decided he would tear down Grimmauld Place from the outside if need be to get to Davindra, the door opened.

Slowly a ghostly form floated into the hallway. Harry would have thought the worst except he realized that Davindra was not a transparent spirit of the recently departed, but simply a young woman who had gone days without eating or sleeping and suffered the greatest loss of her life. Her eyes were blank and vacant. She stood as if she had been physically wrung of all emotion.

A quiet, raspy voice came from her lips. “He should be buried soon.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She had taken great care to clean him. His robes were repaired, his wounds healed as best as one can on a corpse. He looked almost as he had every day of the last eight years of her life. It made the pain even more excruciating.

When she cried, she did so in memory of all the things she would never have: quiet moments in the dungeon, discussions of potions and Hogwarts’ gossip, cold evenings snuggled in bed, his children. Each thought would spark a new wave of anger and sadness only made bearable by screaming until Davindra believed her throat would rupture.

During those sequestered days Davindra said good bye to more than just the man she loved. She bid farewell to all she knew of her own life. Every preconceived notion about where she would go, what she would be and who she would be with was destroyed. There was nothing else left. And the list was long. Rage at the injustice of them both having to sacrifice so much and getting nothing in return inspired a new round of verbal grief, but by now her voice was gone and all she could do was gurgle and wheeze.

Finally no tears were left and every single happy thought, memory, and plan was examined, mourned, and tucked away to be buried with Severus’s body. On top of it all Davindra lay her heart, for she was certain it would never again be of use after incurring such damage. Besides it would have always resided with Severus anyway, no matter where he was. It had stopped being her own so many years ago, she would never miss it. She gave one final kiss to his cold lips.

“With every fiber of my being, and above all others including myself,” she whispered to him.

There was no point in putting it off any longer. She would have to face the world as it was, free of the Dark Lord’s hold and empty of Severus Snape.

Harry had taken her into the kitchen and sat her at the table. He pushed a cup of beef broth into her hands and sat across from her, encouraging her to take another sip every few moments, which she did automatically. It was nice having someone else tell her what to do, for she didn’t believe that she had the capacity to instruct herself in even the most basic tasks.

When her throat began to feel soothed and her stomach growled in appreciation of food, Davindra looked at Harry and actually saw him for the first time in days. He looked gaunt and sad. His injuries were healed and even the scar on his forehead seemed more faint. But he seemed more wounded than ever before.

She asked him to tell her what happened. It was obvious he didn’t want to. Perhaps it was too soon to speak of it all, but she had to know. She insisted that she had to know. It wasn’t fair. He had been there, he had perhaps even seen Severus’s last moments. She needed to know something about it.

Slowly, Harry reconstructed the scene of the final battle at Hogwarts. Briefly, he talked about the students and teachers who had shown to make their stand. There was chaos, destruction, and death everywhere. So much so that Harry couldn’t keep track of it all. He saw friends fall and was never sure if they were dead or just injured. Some he was still unsure about.

Snape had come in under the guise of helping the Death Eaters, even at the risk of attack by those he supported. Subversively he was able to take down many of the most dangerous before it was discovered what he was doing. Voldemort himself screamed of Snape’s demise when he realized he had been fooled for years.

Harry had been surrounded by Death Eaters, he could hold them off no more, when Snape broke in. He hexed and detained the mob long enough to pull Harry free and drag him toward Voldemort. Some might have thought Snape was taking the boy to his death, presenting him to Snape’s dark master. But he and Snape both knew Harry was the only one to finish the job. The battle would never be over until the twin souls faced each other.

He wasn’t sure how, but Harry knew Bellatrix Lestrange had delivered the killing blow soon after. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen him fall. But Voldemort had called his attention and Harry knew that he couldn’t give precious seconds over to thinking of the guilt and sorrow he felt. It wasn’t until the battle was over that he allowed himself that.

“Bellatrix Lestrange, you say?” Davindra asked after Harry finished. There was renewed strength with a bitter undertone in her voice as she pronounced the name.

“You needn’t worry about her,” Harry replied. “I found her. I used Sectumsempra just enough to make her unrecognizable but not enough to kill her.” There was a vicious, cold darkness in Harry’s eyes as he described his vengeance. “I let Neville have that honor.”

Davindra nodded once her approval. It would save her the task of hunting the witch down and doing the job herself.

For a while they sat in silence, contemplating their long, empty lives which stretched out before them.

“You know, you don’t have to make any decisions about anything for a while,” Harry offered. “You can stay as long as you like here. I know it’s going to be very hard for you.”

Davindra didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. For the time being, she didn’t think she could move from her seat much less contemplate where to live or what to do next.

“The thing I always hated, after Sirius died, was people telling me they understood how I felt,” he continued. “That made me so mad. How could anyone understand? But now that I see you, I think I have to say that I can at least sympathize with what you are going through. Losing someone hurts.”

Vaguely, she did appreciate his sympathy, but she too felt offense at someone daring to assume her emotions were typical. To her they were the most unique and complex thing she had ever felt. And they were about to destroy her.

“What I don’t understand is how do I do it?” she asked softly. “How do I wake up every day and go about living when he was what I lived for? What do I think of now when he was my first thought every morning and my last thought every night? How do you exist when something so vital is gone?”

Harry was quiet for a while. He stared down into his cup, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t know how to answer that. But you’ve got to do it somehow. What would he say if he knew that you just gave up? He might have said he did all this to save the world or because Dumbledore wanted him to. But I think he did it because of you. I don’t know if he would have even cared that Voldemort was destroying everything and everyone in sight if it wasn’t for you. You made him care. Do you want it to be that he died for nothing?”

“But he should have lived!” she exclaimed, tears threatening a return. “That’s what I can’t get over. He should have lived. Everyone thought it would be you. But it was him!”

The look on Harry’s face stopped her from saying any more. She didn’t mean the words to be as harsh as they had sounded. She didn’t really wish Harry dead. Davindra put her face into her hands so she wouldn’t have to see the stricken expression he tried to hide by nodding and looking sympathetic to her outburst.

After another round of silence he spoke again.

“Tell me something about him. Something I don't know. Something most people don't know.”

Davindra raised her face from her hands and wiped her wet nose. The request seemed too painful to comply with. It would cause her to search her mind for precious details that would only remind her that he was gone. Also her brain felt so foggy and dull, she wasn’t sure she could construct any clear descriptions of the man she knew as well as she knew herself. She sighed and ran her hand over her face, pressing her cold fingers against her eyes, feeling her pulse pound behind them, reiterating the annoying fact that she still lived, even without him.

“He never slept well. He had horrible nightmares all the time.” A single memory emerged from the fog. “In fact, he feared sleeping. It was that bad.”

Davindra looked up to find Harry’s vivid green eyes gazing at her encouragingly. Once again she waited for another thought to solidify.

“He drank too much and took too many potions to try to combat it.”

She paused to think and decided maybe it wasn’t as hard as she feared. It was more like seeing old, long-lost friends.

“His childhood was terrible.”

“I knew that,” Harry replied softly.

Davindra nodded and thought some more.

“Do you know why his hair always looked so awful? It’s because he washed it with this rough, bar soap that he said protected his skin from all the elements he worked with in the dungeon.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised slightly at that bit of information and a slight smile touched his lips. Davindra allowed herself a very slight quiver of a smile when she remembered trying to get him to use actual shampoo and his annoyance at her desire to intrude upon his long established routine.

“Every Sunday morning he would sit in his night shirt and slippers and do the Sunday Prophet Deluxe Crisscross Word Puzzle in ink.” She could see him so clearly right then.

“When he graded papers he chewed his lip. I once caught him dissecting a Weasley Wildfire Whiz-Bang to see how it worked. When he did sleep he snored terribly but always swore he didn’t. And even if he was annoyed with me, he’s still let me kiss him goodbye. He said he loved me only once. But I’ll remember it forever. He told me to.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

15 Years Later

She had gotten up early so she could have some precious quiet time to drink her tea and look at the Daily Prophet before submerging herself in the deluge of noise and pandemonium. But soon she realized there was no use putting it off any longer, and she began to dress.

The dungeon living quarters were chilled after the cool night, and she moved quickly to cover herself in the traditional robes she always wore for teaching. As she completed her usual morning habits, she could feel a stare upon her. Though she didn’t look in its direction, she smiled at the familiar sensation. At last she pinned a garnet red brooch with inlaid crown at her throat and surveyed her appearance.

Reflected in the mirror was the portrait of a dark man who also watched her image. His eyebrow minutely raised when their eyes connected in the glass. The last item of her traditional ensemble was a long, worn, black cloak.

As she headed for the door a silken voice uttered, “Give them hell, Madame.”

Giving a knowing glance to the portrait she replied, “Don’t I always?”

After ten years, the first day of classes was always the same. First years sat in wide-eyed wonder and horror at everything that was delivered to them. They were so fun to toy with. She understood now why Severus had sometimes been such a terror. It relieved some of the tedious boredom.

Davindra swept into the dungeon classroom, walking smoothly but with a quick pace. When she turned to face the class, the black cloak swirled about her body in an elegant caress. She regarded the young group with a slight smile. They looked back with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

“Good morning and welcome to your first lesson in Potions. I am Madame Collins. Here you will learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. I don’t expect many of you to truly understand the beauty in a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes or the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*The End~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Coming Soon!

2008-01-03T21:40:05Z

The last chapter of Madame Potion!

My Beta, My Heart. And a new one-shot

2007-12-08T16:07:37Z

I just had to share this. protowilson did it for me as a belated birthday gift. She calls it "Beta The Devil You Know." Don't anyone tell Logical Quirk or southernwitch69 that HE is looking over my stuff after they are done. (Don't I wish).

Also, I hadn't planned on posting this fic here since it is not Snape-centric and it is VERY fluffy considering my normal style. But Sycophant Hex awarded me the "Featured Story for December," so now I have to crow a bit about it. (The Burrow doesn't get a lot of submissions, I realize) Proceed only if you are a fan of Fred & George fantasies.

Paid In Full

Good businessmen rarely bargain. But when there is so much to gain and such an easy mark, how can they lose? However, their bluff gets called, and aren't they surprised!

Author's Note: For those of us who could never decide between which twin was their favorite. The girl is meant to be anyone and no one. The twins are part canon, part “Warner Bros.”

She held the two Galleons in her palm. It wasn’t enough. She knew it. But it was all she had, at least for another month. Her Transfiguration essay wasn’t anywhere near done and it was due tomorrow. She had to find a way to buy herself more time. A mix of violent vomiting and a vicious nosebleed should do the trick.

From a distance she watched the inventors of the Skiving Snackboxes. They lounged casually around the old armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, laughing with Lee Jordan, their brother, Ron, and a few members of the Quidditch team.

Never before had she dared socialize in their group. She wasn’t a Quidditch fan. She wasn’t a prankster. She wasn’t very cool, even. But she’d admired them from afar. They were daring, confident, and fearless. Sometimes she would just watch them and fantasize that she could sit easily amongst them, laugh with them, and belong. She had spent so much time surveying them that she had almost figured out how to tell them apart.

One, Fred, she believed, laughed loudly and shook his shaggy ginger hair from his eyes. When he did so, he caught her staring and flashed her a flirtatious grin. Feeling her face flush, she turned away. She hated when they did that! She hated herself worse for being caught staring.

Looking at the two coins in her hand, her shoulders sagged with defeat. It was ridiculous. She should just stop stalling and try to finish the essay tonight. As she was contemplating her options, a shadow fell over her. She turned to find two identical, flame-haired boys looking at her with pleasant smirks laced with undertones of mischief.

“Something we can help you with, miss?” She believed it was George speaking with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Let me guess,” Fred picked up, crossing his arms and examining her through a narrowed gaze. “You’re in desperate need of a Skiving Snackbox.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“It’s in the best interest of a good businessman to know his client’s needs, even before they do,” George replied.

“Our stock is pretty low, but I think we can set you up,” Fred said. “That will be three Galleons.”

She sighed loudly, attempting a truly anguished look. “Yes, I know. But I’m afraid I don’t quite have three.”

“How much DO you have?” George asked.

“Two.”

Fred’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid that’s not quite enough, love. Two hardly covers our overhead costs.”

She wasn’t sure what they meant exactly. She had only seen them selling things out of their pockets in the halls and common room.

“I'm desperate,” she pleaded. “McGonagall wants a two-scroll essay tomorrow and I am so behind, there is no hope I can get it done.”

“That does sound like a dilemma,” Fred said smirking to his brother.

“I’ll give you two now and TWO more later when I have it,” she suggested bravely.

They both shook their heads. “We don’t give credit,” Fred stated.

“Or accept payment plans,” George added.

Feeling completely panicked and near tears, she began to search her brain for something that might sway them. “Well, surely there is something I can do to earn that last Galleon in credit. What about…” she commanded herself to think creatively, “if I took care of your mail or helped you with bookkeeping? I’m good at Arithmancy. I could do whatever you like to work it off.”

Again they stood staring down at her. Their identical, warm, brown eyes tinged with mirth.

“We work alone,” George said, hardly bothering to hold back a smile.

“But you sound pretty desperate,” Fred commented.

“I am!” she said. “I’m barely keeping up in Transfiguration. Please, you have to help me. I’m begging. Isn’t there something we can work out?”

Their faces melted into such wicked grins that she almost took a step back.

“Maybe there is something you can do for us,” Fred said though his eyes stayed on his brother.

Her stomach twitched and she was sure her face was again a vivid pink. “What?”

“Especially for you,” Fred announced. “Today only, a Skiving Snackbox is now available for the bargain price of two Galleons and… one kiss.”

“Each!” George added.

She actually laughed. They had to be joking. But after she recovered herself, she saw they were looking at her quite seriously.

“You’re kidding.”

They both shook their heads.

“You wanted a deal,” Fred said. “That’s about the best we can offer. I consider it a small price to pay for saving your Transfiguration grade.”

“Just give you each a kiss?”

“And two Galleons,” George reminded.

“But not just a slight peck on the cheek or a chaste smack on the lips.” Fred spoke like he was giving instructions for a Quidditch match. “It has to be a truly decent kiss.”

On one hand she was relieved. She could get the Skiving Snackbox and the time to finish her essay and not have to kill or steal to do so. But she would have to kiss two boys who made her nervous and flustered just by looking at her. Snog them right out in the open? Both of them? She stood staring at them with her mouth open.

“This deal isn’t good forever, you know,” George said, bringing her out of her shocked trance.

“Alright. Deal,” she heard herself say.

Broad smiles broke out over the two, and a nauseous heat spread through her as she realized what she had done.

She handed her two Galleons to George. “So, where do we… uh… do this?” she babbled, unable to look them in the eye.

Fred shrugged his shoulders and both boys looked at the nearly empty common room.

“Looks like this is as good a place as any. I think most everyone has gone to bed,” he said.

“R-r-right here? Now?” she squeaked.

“Payment up front is expected.” George waggled his eyebrows at her.

She wondered how many other girls they had struck this deal with. The way gossip spread around Hogwarts, if Fred and George were snogging girls for favors, she would have surely heard about it by now.

Well, if she was to be the subject of future gossip, she decided she wanted it to be good gossip! Taking in a big breath and steeling her courage, she nodded. She had kissed boys before, though only one at a time; she could surely do it now. She figured half of their amusement came from the fact that they were embarrassing her. She resolved to not be the butt of their latest prank.

“Right then,” she found her voice and made it strong. “Over here.”

She took Fred’s hand and moved him over to the nearest lounge chair, forcing him to sit on the arm. It brought him down to her height.

George stood close by, his arms crossed and a look of curious amusement on his face.

“If I’m going to do this, I’d at least like to not get a crick in my neck,” she stated.

Fred gave his brother an appraising look, then grinned back at the girl standing bravely between his knees.

“Ready?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

“Very,” he replied.

Taking his face in her hands, she took a moment to look into his eyes. This close she could see the flecks of green and gold threaded through the chocolate brown irises.

Slowly she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. His mouth was soft and warm under her. She could feel the slight prickle of the sparse hairs on his upper lip. For a moment neither moved. It surprised her to not find him more aggressive. Then she realized that they hadn’t expected her to go through with it! She had actually called their bluff.

A slight chuckle tickled her lips and briefly Fred pulled away to question her. But she pulled him back and intensified the kiss. Her tongue brushed against his lips and she gently sucked. A quiet groan escaped him and his mouth opened. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her in close. Their tongues wound together in languid, wet strokes. His teeth gently scraping her lip. He was actually quite good at this. She found herself forgetting the surroundings and the fact that another boy stood watching, waiting his turn, until the sound of someone clearing their throat disrupted them.

With great disappointment she broke the delicious kiss. Her breath was almost gone from her body and her legs felt like over-cooked spaghetti. She spent a second or two looking into Fred’s face. His eyes were still closed and his lips slightly puckered. Again she chuckled and his eyes slowly opened, revealing a look of dazed euphoria. She dared one more soft kiss.

"AAAGHHHHMMM!" George again cleared his throat as loudly as possible.

She smiled at him. “Okay, next.” This wasn’t nearly as hard as she thought it would be. In fact, she was enjoying it quite a bit.

Fred reluctantly got up from his spot, with the help of George who pulled him out of the way and eagerly took his brother’s spot on the chair arm. His hands immediately went to her waist and he looked into her eyes with a warm grin.

“Ready whenever you are,” he announced brightly.

Again she laughed. How could she have been afraid of this? Taking George’s face in her hands, she kissed him. Instantly he kissed back and pulled her close. Interesting that he seemed to be more forceful than his brother. His lips were the exact size and shape of Fred’s, but he kissed all together differently. He tasted different. The way his tongue slid in and out of her mouth was quite different, but equally wonderful. Deciding who was better would be an impossible task.

She found her entire body feeling warm and tingly and wished that after this kiss was broken she could go back to Fred to further research their differences. Then again sample George. She wanted to kiss their necks and ears. She wanted to spend hours running her hands through their hair and down their lean, muscular backs. Her mind began listing the things she wanted from them that she had never even considered from other boys.

“Alright, I think you two should come up for air,” Fred’s voice broke in with a vaguely grumpy tone.

George broke the kiss. “You got twice as long!” he said irritably.

“I did not!”

George gave her one more passionate, deep kiss that made her groan and giggle before he released her.

Then the three of them stood staring at each other in silence. Their eyes went from one to the other and they shuffled about nervously. Finally Fred spewed out a loud laugh. She and George followed and soon they were all bent over clutching their sides, gasping for air. If asked, she wouldn’t be able to say why she was laughing. There was just something ridiculous about the fact that she had just paid for vomiting and a nose bleed by snogging two brothers in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. She hoped they were laughing for the same reasons.

When they regained control of themselves, they again stood looking at one another.

“I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” Fred said shaking his head.

She nodded. “I know you didn’t.”

“Well, I think you can consider your bill paid in full,” he said looking to his brother.

George handed her a small box with a smile.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you.” She grinned, feeling her old, tell-tale blush returning.

“Oh, no, the pleasure was all ours,” George replied.

Fred added with a lowered voice and a particularly roguish look, “However, we may have to raise our prices in the future.”

“I'll start saving up,” she said as she gave them both smiles and bid them good night.

Madame Potion: Chapter Twenty

2007-11-15T22:20:30Z

Tear at the Darkness

Author's note: I had always planned to continue this story, even after Deathly Hallows came out. But I wasn’t sure if I would continue with my own storyline, which has been laid out for some time, or follow canon. After reading DH it was obvious I had built in NO background information to support the DH story. In fact I contradict it in many places. So, even though I wasn’t happy to be going in the direction of “alternate universe,” I find I must. I hope the alternate ending to the Harry Potter story, and most importantly, the Snape saga, is just as enjoyable in its own unique way.

Though I've tried I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here and
Tell me I told you so
Fallen--Sarah McLachlan

Muggy night air enveloped them as soon as they were released from their Apparation. The surrounding street was silent and the houses dark. A faint electric hum of life existing under a quiet slumber was all that could be detected in that early hour of morning before people began to stir and begin their average, daily lives.

Snape and Davindra stood for a moment looking at the innocent suburbia. It was a bit hard-worn and unkempt, but the dark, thin pair immediately felt exposed and out of place.

“What are we doing here?” Davindra asked quietly, drawing her cloak more firmly around her though the heat was nearly oppressive.

“We’re here because we don’t have any other option,” he replied blandly.

“We’re left to living in the streets?” she quipped with dark humor.

“Close,” he answered with equal bleakness. “Very close.”

Snape began moving toward a particularly disreputable looking set of houses where he stopped at a collection of rubbish tins. Bending down he lifted one of the bins to retrieve a bit of paper fixed to the bottom of the can.

“Crude and careless, unsurprisingly,” he muttered at the simple plan.

He then held the piece of paper out to Davindra. “Read it.”

“Number twelve, Grimmauld Place?” she asked as she examined both front and back of the small scrap.

“Not out loud!” Snape hissed at her as he snatched the paper back. “Just remember it.”

After a shabby, dark building emerged from between two existing houses, Snape and Davindra walked toward it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Davindra again ventured.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Snape answered as he knocked on the door.

Immediately it opened a crack and an eye surveyed them, and then the door snapped shut only to next open widely to reveal a dark interior.

Snape quickly shoved Davindra through, then stepped in behind her. The door closed behind them, sinking them into total blackness, though it was apparent that they were not alone.

“What is your Patronus?” a voice demanded.

“A serpent,” Snape answered tiredly.

“That was too easy,” another familiar voice snapped. “What name did you sign in your Potions textbook?’”

“Potter, it’s ME,” he snapped impatiently. “Can we please desist with this stupid game?”

But it continued to stay dark and tensely silent.

“The Half-Blood Prince,” Snape finally said through clenched teeth.

Finally a dim light filled the foyer. Snape found himself standing almost uncomfortably close to Remus Lupin. Behind him, Harry Potter stood glaring at the new visitors. Lurking further back in the shadows were Potter’s familiars, Weasley and Granger. Mad-Eye Moody was leaning over the banister of the nearby stairs. Every pair of eyes burned into Snape with brutal distrust and accusation.

Snape lowered his hood and returned the visual confrontation. Davindra moved closer to him, obviously reading the hostile emotions that pulsated around them.

“One can never be too careful now days,” Moody said casually. “It’s hard to tell who’s friend and who’s foe.”

“I do hope I need not answer any more inane questions to prove which of those I am.” Snape addressed the group, though his eyes landed on Potter.

“No, Severus,” Lupin finally spoke in his typical tired manner. “I think we are all still trying to comprehend the latest revelations about you. Any more would be over-whelming. Now, what was this about the Vessel?”

“Not even inviting me in for tea first?” he quipped.

“You wouldn’t have even gotten in this far if it were up to me,” Potter snarled quietly, but with assurance that Snape would hear him.

“We’ve been over this, Harry,” Lupin spoke out of the corner of his mouth at the boy behind him. “You heard the message just as we all did.”

“But I still don’t believe it.” His mean, little, green eyes narrowed angrily behind his round glasses. “I know what I saw on that tower.”

‘I should have known he was there somewhere under that bloody Invisibility Cloak!' “You apparently don’t know anything, you insufferable hothead.” Snape interjected.

Potter had started to charge through Lupin, his wand raised, when the werewolf stopped him. “Harry, let me handle this! The Vessel, Severus. Maybe you should just hand it over to us.”

“Of course,” he answered smoothly and nudged Davindra toward them.

She stumbled briefly before retaking her footing and realizing that she was now the center of attention. As he had seen her do many times, she only spent a second looking horrified before a resolute pride took over and she straightened her shoulders and lowered her own hood, allowing them all to see her clearly.

Potter and Lupin exchanged puzzled looks with Moody.

“Your new sidekick?” Lupin asked.

“The Vessel,” Snape said with a lean, dark smirk.

More looks were passed between the Order members.

“She's the Vessel?” Potter spoke, pointing at her. “A Ravenclaw is Voldemort's secret weapon?”

“You’re the “Chosen One” and you’re surprised?” Snape commented glibly. “You never figured out exactly what the Vessel was, did you?”

“The closest we got was that it was part of his Horcrux plan,” Moody said. “Dumbledore didn’t even seem to know the whole story.”

Snape gave a look of dim amusement with a slight raise of his eyebrows. “No, he did not.”

“Enlighten us.” Lupin made the demand while crossing his arms and narrowing his suspicious gaze.

“The Vessel isn’t an object,” Snape began. “It is a person, a woman specifically, who will carry the Dark Lord’s heir. That heir and the mother are then used as a sacrifice for a powerful, dark spell that will grant immortality. Miss Collins was marked soon after birth as the Dark Lord’s property for this purpose.”

Lupin now had a look of vague horror. “When did you find out about this?”

Hiding his chagrin, Snape answered curtly, “It’s actually fairly new knowledge to me and also a recent shock to Miss Collins, I’m afraid. Her grandmother made the arrangement with little awareness of the details. Madame Collins, though she was agreeing to something akin to an arranged marriage. Unfortunately, a more detailed explanation of the contract was not to her liking, and she and the Dark Lord parted ways in a most permanent manner.”

“Meaning he killed her,” Moody concluded in his usual blunt manner.

Snape gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. “That is how I came to be her guardian, as luck would have it.”

Potter finally interjected. “How do we know that she is really the Vessel, as you say? How can we trust you?”

Snape replied with a bitter glare before he moved to Davindra and roughly turned her to face him. Moving her long cloak aside, he pulled her shirt up and the top of her trousers down to reveal the raised, dark outline of the chalice.

“Her mark,” he pronounced.

Everyone seemed to lean closer for a better look until finally Davindra shook herself free and rearranged her clothing back in place. She gave her own black glare to everyone including Snape.

Snape allowed her her modesty and turned back to the group.

“Cute. Matching Dark Marks,” Potter quipped.

“Harry, you’re not helping,” Lupin stated to the boy. “This does sound outlandish, Severus. If he has the Horcruxes, why would he do this?”

“He’s the Dark Lord,” Snape said. “He’s smart enough to hedge his bets. Besides, he knows you’ve destroyed most of the Horcruxes. Whereas they would ensure him seven lives, this sacrifice would make him immortal with only one.”

He was met with continued silence and unforgiving stares.

“What more do you want?” Snape gave them all an incredulous snarl. “She couples with the Dark Lord in less than three weeks. In nine months she dies. Which event do you wish to wait for before you accept the knowledge as true? I don’t ask this for myself,” he reminded them. “I came to you in trust with faith that the Order would protect an innocent. You should at least appreciate the fact that you will hold the Dark Lord’s most prized possession.”

“And we’re supposed to buy this story that you’re doing us and her a favor because you are the altruistic sort?" Potter again commented.

“Still not helping, Harry,” Lupin said with more impatience. “You have to understand how this all sounds to us, especially coming from you, Severus. The last that was seen of you was your backside as you fled Hogwarts with a group of murderous Death Eaters. We know what Dumbledore’s message said. We know it was delivered by his phoenix, and it was backed up by not only Armando Dippet but also every other portrait in his office. But it’s like being told the sun is green after seeing it shine yellow for your entire life. The Order is very vulnerable and anxious right now. We can’t allow a traitor in our midst.”

“Severus, if they don’t want us here, let’s not stay,” Davindra said to him with quiet resentment as she nestled against him, clutching his arm. “There’s surely some place else we can go.”

Little did she know of their true desperation. They wouldn’t be there now if Snape thought there was any other choice for them.

“Being here not only benefits us, Miss Collins,” Snape spoke to the crowd, though he addressed her. “The Order of the Phoenix would be in an advantageous position if they held the Dark Lord’s secret weapon in their protection. This is something they know but are reluctant to acknowledge openly. They are playing coy, my dear.”

The group exchanged more looks before Lupin finally spoke.

“Harry, it’s up to you, but I’m afraid Severus is right. Not only should we be willing to protect Davindra but it would also allow us valuable access to Voldemort’s plans.”

Potter continued to shooting piercing stares at the pair in front of the door.

“Alright,” he finally spoke. “She can stay. He goes.”

Snape was about to agree--it was more than he had hoped--when Davindra latched on to him with a death grip.

“No!” she said loudly, “I’m not staying without him. If he leaves, I go with him.” She now turned to Snape. “You’re supposed to be my protector. How could you even think of leaving me?”

“You’ll be well guarded here,” Snape assured her.

“I won’t stay without you.” Her statement was a firm threat Snape knew better than to doubt.

He looked to Lupin who then looked to Potter.

The boy let out an annoyed hiss of breath. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. But I won’t stop you. However, I don’t want to see you, hear you, or smell you,” he said to Snape. “Just stay out of my way.”

“Your generous hospitality is touching.” Snape couldn’t help but reply with a slight sneer. Before Potter could begin a new tirade of disgruntled insult, he held up his hand. “I don’t particularly like it either, Potter, but it goes beyond expectation, honestly. Not to worry, I will be around very little. I still have a lot of work to do on the potions the Dark Lord requires. But I do expect the greatest respect and care be given to Miss Collins while she is under your protection.”

He gave them each intense looks of threat with his last words. That was the most important message of everything he had spoken. He was not handing her over to the Order without a great deal of anxiety. The idea of not being in total control of her safety at all times was quite unnerving.

“She will be under the watch of some of the Order’s most devoted and fierce members,” Moody finally spoke again from his lofty perch. “I’d like to see even Voldy himself try to get in here.”

“If he finds out she’s here, then even a whole army of Aurors led by the Chosen One himself will be hard pressed to keep him out,” Snape replied.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Davindra was reluctantly settled into a room, escorted by Hermione Granger. There were things to attend to before Snape himself could retire. It was now the weak, early morning hours, and everyone looked exhausted.

A brief update on the Order’s activities, including Potter’s Horcrux hunt, was quickly delivered in the kitchen around the old, familiar table. In turn, Snape spoke of the sacrifice and potions the Dark Lord requested while he drank strong, lukewarm tea.

When everyone was satisfied with the information exchange, the group dispersed. Snape waited until the kitchen cleared before he moved to make his way upstairs. Though he assumed most had suspicions about his relationship with Davindra, he didn’t wish to enforce it by having anyone witness him going into her room.

But as he dragged himself up the stairs, a figure stepped from the landing and blocked his way. Too tired to even go for his wand, Snape decided to let whomever it was have the first blow and hopefully finish him off. Harry Potter simply stood in his path, gazing down on him with angry, piercing eyes and lips curled into a snarl of loathing.

Snape continued until he stood on the same landing and gave Potter an expression of bored expectance as he waited for whatever the boy felt he had to say.

“I want to know how you did it,” he finally said. “I want to know how you were able to look him in the face, the man who saved you, the only one who ever believed in you, and kill him, then walk away.”

Snape groaned. This was the last thing he wanted to discuss and the last person with whom he wished to converse.

“Potter, I am tired…” he tried to say.

“I want to hear it!” Potter demanded through gritted teeth. “I want to hear how a coward justifies his actions.”

That particular word snapped Snape out of his blasé fatigue. He moved until his chest nearly bumped against the boy’s and stared into his eyes.

“What would you have done, Potter?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice. “What if he had demanded it of you? What if he said you owed him because of all he had done for you? What if he gave you a sentimental speech about how he could trust no one else and how he had always secretly favored you? What if you had to watch him deteriorate under a deadly curse?” Snape paused and then intensified the burning stare he drilled into the boy. “What if he had begged, Potter? How would you have refused him?”

Potter’s vicious glare flickered away from Snape’s face. “I would have found a way. I’d have done anything but that.” Though his voice was still sharp, some of the fire had gone from his delivery.

Snape stepped back and spat out an embittered chuckle. “There was no other way, you stubborn little brat. Do you think I didn’t want to find some way out of it? If he and I found no way around it, there WAS no way around it. And if you think that I found one second of pleasure in what I had to do…” He stopped, suddenly not sure of where his words were leading him, only knowing he didn’t wish to go there. “You’re as stupid as you are naïve,” he spat and pushed past the boy to continue up the stairs to the safety of the far side of a closed door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape took only a few hours of sleep before he slipped down to the dim cellar of the house in search of a quiet place to continue his brewing. Further pondering on the potions’ ingredients revealed more ways to twist the ingredient levels and combinations to create something subversively destructive to the Dark Lord’s powers. In his mind he also ran through the many ways he could protect Davindra during her service. Everything from an Imperius Curse to little known contraceptive potions were considered. One thing was certain; she needed to be better versed in Occlumency. It was the only way to protect any of them.

When Davindra finally woke, Snape immediately set about testing her Occlumency skills, which were better than he had suspected. She admitted that she had begun using the basics when she suspected her grandmother of a dark alliance and also when she felt Snape becoming too involved in her social life. The news was unsurprising, but still elicited a raised eyebrow and contemplative “hmm” from him. Unable to totally relinquish the teaching skills so ingrained in him, Snape assigned her exercises to practice to better train her mind.

‘If Potter had been a fraction as focused and well trained, we might not even be in this mess,’ Snape couldn’t help but think. There was no justice in who was “chosen” and who was ignored in this world.

Soon Snape was called to the Dark Lord’s side. Expecting to answer many questions about Davindra’s whereabouts, he shielded his mind from all visions of the headquarters and of the Order’s involvement. But the sinister wizard was disinterested. He took the news that Snape had been forced to move the Vessel’s location because of Ministry advancement with hardly more than a dismissive nod.

“I trust she is currently being guarded and protected? And all is going well with the preparations for the coupling?” he had asked.

“Of course, my lord,” Snape replied, anticipating more explanation. But he was cut short with orders for another raid and troop organization. An Imperiused Ministry official was beginning to become unhinged, and it was important for someone to clear his mind and set a new curse or dispose of him. And there was still the issue of finding Potter and stopping him before he destroyed the last Horcrux.

It was almost two days later when Snape was finally allowed to leave the dark ranks and return to Grimmauld Place. He was exhausted from physical work, extensive use of difficult magic, lack of food and sleep, and also worry.

After midnight when he crept into the house, Snape quietly made his way upstairs to find Davindra asleep in her bed, but with a lamp still burning and a book in her lap. She had attempted to wait up for him again. Relief at seeing her safe and peacefully resting made the tension melt from his body, and he knew he wasn’t far from total collapse.

Silently he undressed and extinguished the light, then attempted to crawl into bed without waking her. But the moment his body touched the bed, he felt himself tackled to the mattress.

“Severus!” she cried as she crushed him in a fierce hug. “Where have you been? What have you been doing? I thought you were dead. I thought you were never coming back.”

Kisses were plastered over his face and mouth before he could even reply to any of her questions, his already aching body further abused by her exuberant affections.

“Davindra,” he managed between smothering administrations. “I’m fine. But you know what the Dark Lord expects. He had many tasks for me, and it wasn’t quite feasible to send an owl to update you on my activities.”

Finally she rested against him, still firmly clutching him, but with faint sniffles against his ear.

“For two days I didn’t know what happened to you. And everyone around here was so unconcerned.” Her voice was muffled and stuffy sounding. “I asked that someone go find you and that nutter Moody actually laughed at me. He said you could take care of yourself.”

“I’m not at all surprised at the lack of interest,” Snape uttered as he moved to pull a blanket over them both. “But he is right. I can take care of myself, and IF something had happened to me, Davindra, then doing nothing at all would be the appropriate action. The Order is supposed to have no knowledge of my location and activities, nor me it.”

“But what about me?” she asked. He knew she raised up to look at him. He could see her faint outline in the almost totally dark room. “What would happen to me?”

“The Order would know how to hide you and keep you safe.”

“No,” she said softly but with insistent sadness. “How could you expect me to live without you? How could I bear to go on if something happened to you?”

Snape sighed but pulled her back to him. A strange mix of irritation at her skewed priorities and flattered happiness tugged at him, making it impossible to decide if he should scold her or simply hold her tightly.

“You would be fine because it would be the only choice you have,” he said quietly, not wishing to discuss such a complex topic when he had so little intellectual energy. “It’s very late, Davindra. We should sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep. I haven’t seen you in two days. I’m afraid if I close my eyes, you’ll go away again,” she said as she gently kissed his ear and neck.

Her hand slid up and down his body in a feathery caress. And despite his exhaustion, he felt himself respond to it. He too had missed her touch and the comfort of having her close, not to mention the company of someone who didn’t loathe him or simply need his service.

When her kisses traveled to his lips and her fingers began a seductive descent, he stopped her.

“Davindra, we can’t. The fertility potion. It’s possible that the estimates are off. You could be fertile right now, and it would be both of our heads if you showed up at the Dark Lord’s feet already impregnated.”

“Oh, Severus, I don’t care,” she moaned against the hollow of his throat. “Just do something to me, anything. I just want to feel you.”

He could think of twenty different things that would fulfill every need between them. And though he knew it was a dangerous venture, he found himself wanting to lose himself in raw physical sensation as much as she. Before he could protest further, she had begun a very persuasive demonstration, and he had nothing more to debate. Indeed, many things can quench desire, but Snape still found himself missing the intimacy of being inside her. It took great restraint to not throw caution to the wind and indulge. Later as he lay next to her, listening to her slumbering, easy breaths, he felt himself beginning to fall into a deeply relaxed state. Flickering worries of the Dark Lord and the looming coupling edged about his consciousness but nothing stuck. Soon he mercifully slipped into a deep sleep, his hand still wrapped about Davindra’s waist and one leg pinning hers to the bed. She wouldn’t so much as move without him knowing.

As soon as he saw daylight peaking around the edges of the shabby draperies, he was unable to sleep anymore. Snape untangled himself from the sheets, leaving Davindra sprawled over her usual three-fourths of the bed. It was later than he thought. He dressed and headed downstairs in hopes of a quiet cup of tea.

As he reached out to push his way through the kitchen door, the sound of quiet voices stopped him. He paused with his ear to the door to ascertain whom his morning company would be and if he could tolerate them.

“It’s fine, I mean, I don’t really have any problem with her being here,” Potter was saying in a hushed but clearly frustrated voice. “And I’ve been damn thankful he’s been gone so much. But I still can’t stand the sight of that greasy bastard. I know Sirius would never have allowed it. Nothing anyone could have said about noble gestures and mercy killings would have changed his mind. I feel guilty about even having agreed to it.”

“It was the right decision, Harry,” the voice of Hermione Granger spoke. “Even if Sirius didn’t like Snape, he would have believed that this was the right thing to do. Besides, he tolerated Snape coming here when they were all in the Order.”

“But he didn’t like it,” Potter reminded her.

“What I don’t get is how she can stand him.” Ron Weasley was also in the mix. “They’ve been together for a couple years now. Remember when we saw them by the lake?”

A sound of disgust came from what had to be Potter.

“Well, I don’t know,” Granger spoke again. “He might be the sort some women would go for. Dark, mysterious, and he IS brilliant.”

There was a heavy silence in which Snape imagined her getting stares of horror and revulsion.

“I didn’t say that it was MY type,” she added in a nervous, hurried voice. “Just that some women might like it.”

Taking the smirk off his face, Snape decided to disrupt the debate by pushing his way through the door. The threesome turned in unison, looking only slightly guilty. No one spoke as Snape found a mug and poured himself tea.

“Still alive, are you?” Potter commented bleakly.

“For now. Sorry to disappoint you,” Snape replied. “Begging the Chosen One’s pardon, but would it be alright to at least have breakfast in his presence?” he asked flippantly.

“We aren’t going to have to watch you swallow whole rabbits or bite the head off a live chicken, are we?” Potter asked.

“Not this morning,” Snape answered smoothly as he sat at the far end of the table.

At that moment Davindra ambled into the kitchen, yawning and looking hardly awake.

“Good morning, everyone. Severus, have you been up long?” she asked.

“Not long,” he replied. Then with a mischievous smirk, he said, “Well, here is the one person to answer your question, Weasley. Go ahead and ask her.”

The ginger-haired ape looked at him dumbly. “What?”

“You were wondering how Miss Collins could stand my company,” he reiterated calmly. “Now is your chance to find out.”

He gave a slightly panicked look to his friends. “Well, I wasn’t… That wasn’t meant… It was sort of rhetorical, in a way.”

“What’s this?” Davindra asked, still sounding sleepy as she sat down next to Snape and cradled her mug of tea.

“Mr. Weasley here was wondering how it was that you have managed to tolerate such an intimate relationship with someone so thoroughly repellant as I,” he informed her with great pleasure at everyone else’s discomfort.

“That wasn’t what I said exactly,” the boy muttered sheepishly.

“Though Miss Granger suspects it is my dark, mysterious, and brilliant mind that lured you in.” This time the girl blushed eight shades of pink before she buried her face in her cup.

“Oh,” Davindra finally seemed to understand and put on a very serious face to address the trio. “Oh, well, I suppose there were many things that drew me to Severus. Yes, he is extremely intelligent and talented. And I do suppose there is something appealing about his dark manner and secretive ways.”

She turned to look at him as though searching for reminders of why she began her devotion to him seven years prior.

“But I think it must have been his strength and intensity. I just knew that there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do. And I always knew he’d look after me. Nothing could harm me if he was there. I’d always be safe.”

She looked at him with the same devotion and adoration she reserved for the intimate moments between them. Snape returned a slight smile at her sentimental, silly prose then looked up and found Potter looking ill, Weasley looking confused, and Granger looking wistful.

Davindra also seemed to shake herself free of the enchantment of old memories and displayed an impish grin as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders.

Resting her chin against him, she gave a sly look to the group and said, “And he’s a wickedly fierce shag.”

“Really?” a weak inquiry came from Granger who sat looking at them with flushed, wide-eyed curiosity, her tea half raised to her lips.

Potter groaned and dropped his own mug to the table. “Oh, God,” he moaned, “I can’t listen to this.” And he left the room hastily.

“Curious, are you now, Granger?” Snape asked with a lascivious twitch of his eyebrow over his own raised cup.

“No, she isn’t!” a red-faced Weasley answered for her. Granger ignored the accusatory stare of her jealous companion and went back to her undoubtedly cold tea.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When not commanded to the Dark Lord’s side, Snape continued to seal himself in the cellar and work. He brewed batch after batch of fertility potions for the malevolent lord and experimented with levels of toxins, poisons, and other harmless elements in order to find a way to secretly slip in something that would not only render him sterile, but magically weak.

He only wished he had someone to test it on. Desperation even made him consider someone in the house, but he knew their power was too valuable. And a house-elf would give unreliable and unpredictable results, though Snape found himself enjoying the idea of poisoning the surly little rodent. It was going to have to be a one shot at success or crushing failure.

The residents and visitors of Grimmauld Place continued to eye him suspiciously. There was little camaraderie left of the old days of the Order. Everyone seemed too worn, worried, and guarded to enjoy anyone else’s company. But Snape found he liked the solitude it gave him, though it seemed to drive Davindra to near madness.

She was unable to leave the house and would often complain of feeling the old, dusty walls closing in on her. All it would take was a reminder that her next experience of fresh air would be to see the Dark Lord, to quiet her. Her mood would then become silently grim.

The only person eager to seek out Snape’s company was Hermione Granger. After Davindra’s revelations in the kitchen, the girl seemed to view him in a new light. He would often find her looking at him in a curious way as he read or ate. He would stop and give her a determined stare that would force her to look away. On one occasion, when he was feeling particularly cruel, he gave her a raised eyebrow and a leisurely head to toe leer that made her blush and nearly run from the room. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. The idea that Potter’s best friend might harbor a crush on the person he hated only slightly less than the Dark Lord himself was quite amusing.

The ultimate annoyance was when she sheepishly offered to help him with whatever he was working so tediously on in the cellar. She reminded him of her continual high marks and E in her Potions O.W.L. and of her dedication to do anything needed to bring about the Dark Lord’s downfall. Turning to give her a cutting glare, Snape firmly instructed her to keep a wide berth of him and to take her cloying, goggle-eyed affections back to Weasley if she truly wanted to be of assistance to the cause. She reddened but managed to give him a vengeful look before she snipped that she had only been trying to help and perhaps he really was as foul a git as everyone attested. It seemed to do the trick because she stopped speaking to him, though the occasional assessing stare was felt whenever his back was turned.

Potter took to being gone quite often himself in his Horcrux search, coming back after days gone only to be angry and disassociative with everyone. Only a week before the coupling, the boy was planning to set off to destroy the Horcrux that rested within the Dark Lord’s most prized companion, the snake, Nagini. A much too complicated and tenuous plan had been laid out to allow Potter access to the snake. Snape overhead the dialogue between members of the Order and saw the inaccurate sketches of the old orphanage. Finally he had to speak up.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, there IS no access to the property from the street, and the Anti-Apparation Jinx extends to surrounding blocks,” he snapped. “However, you haven’t thought of the old coal tunnels and neither has the Dark Lord. They would be the only way in and out without detection.”

Everyone looked at him dumbly.

“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Potter demanded.

“I wasn’t asked,” Snape uttered smoothly.

The boy let out an irritated sigh. “Are you on our side or not?” he asked with an impatient look.

“I do grow so weary of that question,” Snape reminded him in a dangerous voice.

“And I grow tired of questioning you. Either get out or help us and don’t wait for an engraved invitation first.”

For a moment everyone remained silent as the two drilled each other with challenging stares. Finally Snape relented and took the map to correct the erroneous misconceptions about the fortress.

It was arranged that Snape could help him get in and perhaps even create a diversion to allow the boy extra time, but finishing the job and getting out was all up to the Chosen One’s own skills, limited as they were.

Snape couldn’t help but wonder why Potter wouldn’t consider confronting the Dark Lord then when he was so close. It would save them all a lot of trouble. But Snape figured that either the boy must not be ready to face his own immortality or he simply wasn’t aware of the Horcrux that Dumbledore had always believed lay within him. Snape started to say something, but a dark look from Lupin stopped him.

They readied themselves to leave. Snape and Potter were the only ones to go in, but a small army of Order members would be spread around the far parameter of the orphanage grounds at the ready.

“I should go with you,” Davindra was saying as Snape tucked a few extra Blood-Replenishing Potions in his pockets.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What could you do?”

“No less than I can do here simply waiting and going mad with worry.”

Snape took her shoulders in a firm grip. “I need you to be here so I can concentrate on what I have to do,” he spoke strongly, looking into her eyes. “If you were out there, I’d never be able to stop thinking about the danger you are in.”

He had started to turn away when she grabbed him and threw herself into his arms, hugging him in a fierce hold while, to his horror, others watched the emotional display.

“Come back to me,” she said in a choked voice.

Snape pulled away, but gave her an intense look that hopefully spoke everything he could not. Thankfully everyone else made themselves appeared too involved with their own preparations and departing instructions to comment.

Getting in was easier than expected. So much so that it almost worried Snape. He paced the dark corners of the orphanage hoping that Potter was successful. A loud commotion finally told him he was. The echoing shriek of the Dark Lord finding his beloved pet dead ricocheted through the old building. Numerous footsteps ran toward the sound. Most on their way to assist their master, Snape in a hurried search for the boy. On his way down a dark hall, he nearly tripped over something. When he stopped to look, he saw nothing but knew exactly what it was. Reaching down he felt about until he found the arm of Harry Potter under the Invisibility Cloak.

The form was not easily moved, and Snape hoped he hadn’t crawled under the cloak and died.

“Come on, MOVE!” he hissed and the form finally complied.

Approaching Death Eaters surprised them both. Pushing the invisible boy against the wall behind him, Snape addressed the group commandingly.

“It had to be Potter and the Order!” he barked. “Check all the entrances, leave nothing unguarded. Find that boy and the Dark Lord will be very pleased. Come back empty handed and he most certainly will not be.”

The men seemed to nearly fall over themselves to scatter in all directions. But once they were gone, Snape continued to drag the weakening form toward the old coal tunnels. Once inside he Apparated them back to the headquarters. Only then did he pull the cloak from the boy to reveal a dangerous snakebite to his upper arm and Potter on the verge of unconsciousness.

The returning troops gasped in horror at the boy’s condition. Everyone began talking at once. Lupin wanted time-wasting details. Granger shouted ideas for antidotes. But Snape ordered them off and took Potter into a quiet sitting room to began a regiment of potions and healing incantations to purge the wound of its poison and heal the savagely ripped flesh.

Someone handed him a bottle of Murtlap and he took it without looking. It wasn’t until Potter was cleaned, detoxified, and resting that Snape looked up and saw Davindra. She looked tired yet relieved.

He didn’t want to talk and thankfully she asked no questions. He sat himself in a chair and closed his eyes in hope of recovering some bit of strength.

“I have to go,” he said wearily as her cool hands settled upon his face.

“Don’t,” was all she responded.

“I have to. The Dark Lord will want to know why Potter got away, and he will be looking for someone to blame.”

“It shouldn’t be you,” she said.

“Nothing is as it should be.” He pulled himself from the chair and checked the boy’s progress once again. “Make sure he stays put, and when he wakes, give him another Blood-Replenishing Potion and anti-venom elixir,” he instructed her.

He left before she could beg more of him. He couldn’t bear another emotional departure. The only way he could go at all was if he didn’t think about the possibilities of not returning. The less she reminded him of the chances, the better. After speaking with the anxious group of Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Weasley, and Granger and assuring them that Potter would recover if just given time, Snape again left Grimmauld Place to fall at his master’s feet in subjugation.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Late the next day he returned, no worse for his hours of listening to the Dark Lord howl and rage against the absurd stupidity that had allowed the Order into his private lair and his prime nemesis to slip in and out unnoticed. The mad tyrant blamed everyone. Punishment was doled out in plentiful bursts to all within reach. But none suffered the lion’s share of blame, and mercifully and miraculously, no one died.

The first thing that Snape did after coming through the door was check on Potter, who was still resting with Davindra coiled in a nearby armchair asleep. After ascertaining that all was well with the patient, Snape next looked to find Davindra awake and regarding him warmly.

“Back again?” she asked softly with a smile.

“It appears,” he replied. He then motioned for her to follow him out to the hall.

“He woke a few times and asked a lot of questions. He asked about you. Remus and Mad Eye came in and talked to him a bit. But he took his potions,” she said as they stood together near the stairs. “I think most are still asleep or on rounds. But if you’re hungry, I could fix you something.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then let’s just get you up to bed.”

“Later,” he said with a sharp edge that came from jangled nerves and exhaustion. “I have too much to do now.”

“I know you’re tired. I don’t know why you fight sleeping so much,” Davindra said to him in gentle critique.

“Davindra, there is too much to do,” he again said with impatience. “Besides, if you had my nightmares, you’d know why I don’t relish sleep.”

“I know about nightmares. But I just want to enjoy having you close,” she said, moving to him and encircling his waist with her arms. “I miss you when you’re gone. I worry about you. I fear every time you leave that you won’t come back. Every second that you’re here I just want to hold you and never let you go.”

He gave a soft snort that didn’t sound at all convincing in its cynicism. Taking her face in his hands, he looked into her wide, pale eyes.

“I do appreciate your concern, but it would be far better spent contemplating your own safety. Have you been practicing any of the Occlumency exercises I taught you? What about the vitality potions? Have you taken them on schedule?”

“Yes, yes,” she said with annoyance moving his hands and wrapping them around her. “But I would be much happier and much safer if you were simply HERE more.”

“If I could, I would be,” he replied softly as her body melted against him. “You know I leave you in others’ hands reluctantly. But there is no other choice. I like it far less than you.”

Her head came to rest on his shoulder, and suddenly a relaxing sensation gave tepid hope that sleep might soon be a blissful reality to him. They squeezed each other gently and her tender sigh of contentment further beckoned him to succumb to his exhaustion. For a moment he closed his eyes and allowed himself to briefly sample the luxurious sensation of rest.

“Go on up to bed,” he finally said. “I’ll be up very soon. I promise,” he added when she gave him a hopeful yet skeptical look.

Her smile said she wanted to believe him, but he knew she’d be waiting impatiently. A soft kiss ensured that Snape would keep to his word, then he watched her go.

As he turned to go to the kitchen, Snape caught sight of Harry Potter leaning against the door of the sitting room. He looked pale but seemed strong enough to at least stand on his own.

“Not even bothering with your Invisibility Cloak anymore for spying, Potter?” Snape asked.

For a second the boy said nothing but stared in a contemplative way.

“I can’t believe it. You actually DO care about her,” he finally said. There was more than surprise in his voice. It almost verged on awe. “I didn’t think you even knew how to care about anyone or anything other than yourself.”

Snape rolled his eyes only slightly. “Once again, your keen and cunning skills of perception have failed you. And you should not be up wandering around. There is still poison coursing through your veins. The antidotes need more time to work.”

He attempted to move Potter back into the sitting room, but the boy stayed put.

“What, you’re going to deny that you have feelings for her? I saw you just now. It was almost touching, though a bit nauseating.”

Snape stopped and gave him a dark glare. “You know nothing of me and my motivations or my emotions, Potter,” he said as he turned to address the boy. “Don’t assume that if you witness thirty seconds of my life that you have any better understanding of me than you did after spending 6 years as my student. You might recall your snap judgment on the Astronomy Tower was fatally mistaken also.”

“I wasn’t the only one who thought the obvious,” he replied hotly.

“You were the only one who saw it all.”

“I saw you use the Killing Curse on a defenseless man. What would anyone think of that?”

Snape gave Potter a flat, level look, keeping all emotion out of his face, though he did understand how that visual on top of his previous actions could be judged.

“Just stay out of my personal life, what little I have. Go back to bed, Potter” he said, then turned away to follow Davindra’s steps upstairs.

“Snape,” Potter called. When the retreating man didn’t stop, he called his name again with more demand.

Snape finally stopped on the stairs and whipped about with an infuriated look.

“Listen, um… Thank you for everything you did last night. Looks like once again I owe you my life.” There was grim regard to the statement, and the boy looked none to pleased to say it.

The admission surprised Snape, who did his best to mask his reaction behind a stoic glare from between lank curtains of dull, black hair. He simply gave Potter a bare nod of acknowledgement, then returned to scaling the narrow stairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was down to days now. Days before Davindra was to go off to the Dark Lord for the fated coupling. Everyone seemed edgy and irritable. Davindra became more quiet and reclusive. Snape longed to talk to her to ease some of her worry, but he felt lost when it came to words. He found that all he could do was dispense potions, callous instructions, and stern lectures. Feeling inadequate and frustrated at his social shortcomings that proved him completely unable to soothe her, Snape found he sometimes avoided her. For seeing her cry or stare vacantly into space and know she was pondering what she had to do was too heartwrenching for him.

In comparison, seeing the Dark Lord in an almost joyous mood over the impending fulfillment of the sacrifice was chilling. In his master’s presence, Snape had to force jovial congratulations and reassurances, though he felt physically ill afterward when he let the guard down from his mind and allowed the horror of what was to happen become vivid.

At night he would lie next to her for a few hours at a time. Neither would speak and neither would sleep. Eventually Snape would no longer be able to stand the grueling tension and get up to go back to his restless pacing in the cellar and continued assessment of the final potions for the sacrificial coupling. As it stood, the minor alterations to the Dark Lord’s original sketchy notes on the process had gone un-noticed by him thus far. The best Snape could hope for from his efforts were a slight decrease in the evil wizard's magical strength and a hindrance to reproductive ability. He prayed to whomever considered themselves the highest of deities that it would be enough.

Eventually, the only comfort came from drinking. In those hours when he couldn't sleep and could no longer bear to think, he would drown his misery in Firewhiskey and solitude. He felt so useless and futile. After all the years of watching her and ensuring that no harm came to her, she was now out of his reach. Snape turned over old memories in his mind. He remembered healing the wounds on her hands after a tumble in the mud thanks to Draco Malfoy as he told her how to best avoid being the target of cruel pranks. He recalled all the times that his tutoring resulted in her excelling beyond even his expectations. Holding her against him as they hid in the library from the basilisk gave him a rush of valiant protectiveness that he had never been able to shake since. She was his drug. His only joy in life came from knowing she existed for him and because of him. Now it seemed she might die for the same reasons. He couldn’t endure the injustice and the frustration.

Snape sat at the kitchen table nursing his third glass of Firewhiskey. It kept him warm when the fire burned down to glowing embers and the kitchen grew dark.

Lost in his own thoughts about the coming event and careful examination of his own self-loathing, the sound of the door opening and footsteps didn’t register until after Lupin had taken the seat across from him.

In his hand he had a glass into which he poured a small amount of the drink. For a while he said nothing and both men just stared into their drinks. If Snape had to suffer company at this time, this was the best way to do it.

“Need I even say ‘a knut for your thoughts?’” Lupin finally said.

Snape only gave him a dark glance for an answer.

“You’re not the only one worried about her,” Lupin continued in a quiet and annoyingly soothing voice.

This time Snape snorted in disgust.

“I know how you must feel. With the way things are, this isn’t the best time to care about someone else.” It seemed the werewolf wasn’t taking the hint that Snape didn’t want to talk. “Tonks and I…”

“Lupin,” Snape interrupted, “I REALLY don’t want to hear about your love life right now, and I can assure you that you know nothing about what I’m going through.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, taking a drink. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“It never occurred to you that I was drinking alone in the dark for a reason?”

“Yes, it’s because you feel miserable, depressed, and worried. But that’s rarely the best time to be alone.”

“It’s always worked for me so far.”

“Has it?”

Again, Snape gave him a look of warning.

“This isn’t your fault.”

Now Snape stared at him in abject insult. “Isn’t it?” he snapped. “I am responsible for her. I have been since she was eleven. It was my job to protect her then; it’s my job to protect her now. I should have known something like this was afoot years ago. But I was blind.” Snape took a drink and murmured into his glass, “to many things. I’m useless to her now. I can’t get myself out of this situation. How could I possibly get her out?”

There was a dense silence as each man contemplated this last statement. They drank and stared at the dark.

“What do I do?” Snape asked, his tongue beginning to thicken from the drink and his lips beginning to loosen about the hundreds of horrible things whirling about his imagination. “What do I do if this doesn’t work? What do I do if he figures it out and kills her? He’ll come for me then. And I won’t care if he does. You’re so full of wise words and wisdom, Lupin. What do I do then?”

Lupin sighed. “I don’t know, old man. I honestly don’t know.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day of the coupling dawned in a vague, unremarkable way. The house seemed quiet and few people were around to herald its coming. Davindra didn’t emerge from her room until near noon. Snape knew he would have to leave soon to meet with the Dark Lord, but he wished for a moment to speak to her, and even more, he wished for the right words to say. She stood staring out a window in the dim, dank, old library. Snape knew she heard him enter and was aware of him standing behind her, though she didn’t so much as blink in acknowledgement.

Swallowing every bit of stoic pride he possessed, Snape wrapped his arms around her. Gently against her ear, he spoke, “If I could take Polyjuice and go in your place, I would.”

“I’d never let you,” she replied dully.

“I lied to you. I told you that it wasn’t your soul or your heart that you were giving over to the Dark Lord, that it was only your body. But I know how your heart and soul are suffering. So it may as well be all of you. I’m sorry for that.”

Her arms wrapped about his own. “There isn’t any need for apologies now, Severus. You’ve done all you can.”

“It’s not enough.” His voice sounded hollow and choked. “I have to go. I’ll be back to escort you tonight. Try to stay calm, focus on emptying your mind. Take the sedative draught. Do everything you can to keep yourself relaxed. He’ll know if you’re afraid.”

Snape pulled away and turned her to look at him. But again words vanished from his mouth before he could speak them. Her pale eyes pleaded with him for something he did not possess. Perhaps she wanted assurance. Perhaps she wanted to hear that he loved her. He could say none of it. So he left her and was almost thankful for the reprieve.

The Dark Lord was in a celebratory mood. It sickened Snape. But he joined in the enthusiastic plans and administered the last of the fertility draughts. The Dark Lord hungrily drank the potion and threw the bottle against the fireplace, cackling as it shattered into a hundred shards. He paced about the room and raved of his unlimited powers. He spoke of grandiose plans for luring out Harry Potter and destroying him slowly and painfully. It was the deranged ranting of a mad man. It gave Snape a sliver of hope that the traces of poisons had begun to take effect and unhinge the wizard’s depraved mind. When night finally became as dark as pitch, the Dark Lord commanded Snape to bring Davindra to him. He bowed deeply and left the orphanage.

Inside Grimmauld Place he found them all waiting for him, gathered around Davindra like a human wall of protection. Their accusatory gazes cutting him down further than he already knew himself to be. But she disentangled herself from them and walked to him.

“I’m ready,” she said calmly, looking steadily into his eyes.

Snape raised the hood on her cloak to cover her head and started to go.

“Snape, are you sure this will work?” Potter came forward with a worried furrow to his brow. His arm was still bandaged from the snakebite and he still looked pale. But his stubborn determination to question Snape at every turn had not abated.

“No, Potter,” Snape replied. “I am not at all sure. But it's the best we’ve got. Once he’s weakened, then it will be your charge to answer.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape wasn’t allowed to present Davindra to the Dark Lord himself. She was to be left in a room alone and Snape was to leave, only to return when summoned. It was time for him to surrender her and he found he couldn’t do it. His breath came short and his heart pounded wildly. He grabbed her shoulders too roughly as he gave her the last few instructions.

“Remember to keep your mind empty and calm. And remember the incantations,” he found himself babbling hurriedly. “It shouldn’t take long.”

She trembled under his hands and looked at him with desperate fear. Her lips quivered with tightly constrained sobs. He longed to kiss them away, but he didn’t dare. Instead he gripped her face in his hands.

“Come back to me,” he said in a whispered yet forceful voice.

She nodded, her beautiful face shockingly pale and haunted looking. Snape tore himself from her and forced himself to walk calmly from the orphanage. He didn’t Apparate directly to Grimmauld Place. Instead he took himself to the jagged cliffs near Payne Hollow and screamed into the raging wind until his voice was nearly gone.

Silence met him back at Order headquarters, though everyone seemed to be present. No one wished to speak. Instead they all paced about the house in respectively claimed spaces. Every once in a while someone would ask how long it had been. Someone would answer.

Snape wished to soak every fiber of his body with alcohol or something stronger but didn't want to turn into a stumbling drunk in front of everyone. Besides, he might need his sharp wits yet that night. A thud on the porch sometime after midnight brought them all into the foyer. Without even doing the usual precautionary checks, Potter wrenched the door open to have Davindra stumble in and fall into him. Snape immediately reached for her but somehow found Lupin there first.

They guided her into the sitting room and put her on a small settee. She sat on her own but still looked pale with shock, her eyes dilated to fathomless black pools edged in murky green. Snape hung back and let Lupin continue with her. He was caught between the astonishment of her being alive and the cold dread of hearing what she had to go through. It froze him in his spot and made him unable to even approach her and express his relief and fear. Everyone situated themselves in the room to hear the tale, Potter, Weasley, Granger, Tonks, and Moody. Snape wanted to scream at them to get out and stop staring as though she were the evening’s entertainment.

“Davindra,” Lupin asked in a firm, but kind voice. “What happened?”

It took a while, but eventually her eyes seemed to slowly focus on the man before her.

“Davindra, what happened?” he asked again. “Are you alright?”

She nodded slowly. “He kept me waiting, but he finally came,” she began in a very soft, slow voice. “He told me to remove my…” She seemed pained to speak the intimate words. “…my under things and lie down. I did what he said. And I tried so hard to keep my mind clear and open. I couldn’t see what he was doing. I was just staring at the ceiling. He took so long. I began to think he forgot about me. But then he came to me and held his wand over me and said some incantations. I don’t know what it was, but I felt warm inside. I was too scared to move so I just lay there. I tried to think of the protective incantations, but I couldn’t remember the words at first.”

Davindra stopped talking and seemed to drift off into her own head.

“What happened next?” Lupin prodded.

Snape moved closer in order to hear what was surely the worst part. His hands clinched and unclenched behind his back.

A vague, funny smile began at her mouth. “I just kept waiting,” she started again. “Finally, I could feel something going on, but it wasn’t right.” A little laugh escaped her. “He couldn’t… you know… it wasn’t… hard. And he kept muttering things and trying again and it wasn’t working.” She started to laugh more. “And I kept thinking, ‘this is ridiculous.’ And I must have laughed or something.”

“Oh, God, Davindra, you didn’t,” Lupin moaned, letting his head fall into his hand.

Snape hissed out a sharp breath. No man liked to be mocked for his inadequacies, especially in the bedroom. He imagined the Dark Lord liked it no less. Snape also cursed himself for not anticipating the mix of aconite and valerian could cause a problem.

Almost unable to speak through her growing laughter she said, “I didn’t mean to, I think I was just relieved. But then he got really angry.” Now nearly hysterical and breathless she was almost doubled over.

“What did he do?” Lupin demanded. “Davindra! What did he do?”

Struggling to take in enough breath to speak, she finally spat out, “Cru… Cru… Crucio. Th… Then he suddenly was hard as a rock and… and…” Tears were running down her red face as she could no longer speak through the loud screams of laughter.

Snape strode forward and slapped Davindra with strength powered by rage and disgust. The loud smack stunned her into sudden silence in which she looked at him with wide eyes. Everyone in the room seemed to flinch then hold their breath. Finally she wilted into real tears and sobs.

“Leave us. Everyone,” Snape commanded in a bitter voice still ragged from his cliff top fury.

The group seemed eager to escape the uncomfortable scene and began moving out with no further request. Snape sat next to Davindra and took her into his arms. She grabbed on to him like a drowning person struggling to stay afloat and cried loudly against his coat.

Potter closed the door behind him as he left, but not before he took a long look at Snape, as though trying to catch another glimpse of Snape’s normally hidden emotions. When the sound of the latch catching was heard, Snape began to stroke her hair and murmur some vague words of comfort.

“It’s over now. You’re back here with me. You don’t have to worry anymore,” he crooned in a low voice. “You’ll take the contraceptive potion and you won’t have to think about it again.”

“I’ll never s-s-stop th-thinking about it,” she sobbed in a muffled voice against his shoulder. “His eyes as he looked at me. Oh, it was awful, Severus.”

Before he could comment further, the Dark Mark on his arm screamed its calling with a searing pain. Snape couldn’t keep from flinching.

“I have to go now,” he said calmly.

Davindra looked at him with horror. “No! No, don’t go! He’ll kill you. It’s because of me.” She clung to him even tighter.

It took a fair amount of strength to pry her arms from around him. “He will kill me if I don’t go. It could be that he only wants to confer about the potions,” he lied. They both knew the chances of Snape being called to answer the Dark Lord’s rage where high.

Still she tried to reach for him, to stop him from going. “Please, don’t leave me again,” she pleaded and cried harder.

It tore him to shreds to see her beg, her hand stretched out like a lost child seeking comfort. He took the hand in his and held it to his heart.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime you have to rest and take your potions. It’s imperative that you follow my orders.” His words were firm and commanding and deceptive of his true, panicked emotions.

Quickly he turned and walked from the room, easing his torment by not looking back despite the urge within him.

Outside the door he bellowed for Lupin, who came quickly down the hall from the kitchen.

“I’ve been summoned,” Snape stated as he drew on his cloak. “Make sure she gets her potions and make sure she rests. She’s still very traumatized. You should probably put a Dreamless Sleep down her too.”

“She won’t rest as long as you’re not here,” Lupin said, his eyes darting to the closed door.

“Then double the draught,” he snapped. “Just keep her calm. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able. If I don’t come back, get her out of here and somewhere safe.”

Lupin’s hand on his arm stopped Snape’s exit.

“Make sure you come back. I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the consequences if you don’t.” The werewolf’s gaze was a steady bead meant to imply many things.

A brief smirk tipped the corner of Snape’s mouth, and he gave a very slight nod of acknowledgement.

“I can handle everyone else’s sentiments but yours, Lupin,” he replied. “And you’ll do what you have to if the situation demands. You are nothing if not predictably noble.”

He left the relatively safe confines of Grimmauld Place and flung himself into the night to answer his master’s call.

The Last Homecoming (One-Shot, DH Compliant)

2007-08-27T19:14:00Z

This is another DH compliant one-shot featuring Snape and Lily. It is not connected to the Madame Potion story! Special thanks to my betas ReallyGinny and Southern Witch. Amazing women who I adore. And for those few and faithful Madame Potion fans, I AM working on the next chapter.

"One last encounter between Lily and Snape fixes their fates and leaves some wounds deeper and more painful than before."

The Last Homecoming

Going home stopped feeling good years ago. Maybe it was when Petunia started regarding her no less warmly than an annual infestation of locusts or when her parents began to treat her as a curious and strange guest come to call. But Lily had stopped seeking comfort and regeneration from the place she had called home for so many years. Her home was now in the wizarding world, amongst her own kind, her friends, and, of course, James.

But she had promised that before she married at the end of the summer she would spend her last days as a single woman with her family. She had hoped to recapture some of the innocence and joy of her childhood, but the truth was that they had all changed too much. Petunia was now married and had moved on with her life. Her very rigid and gruff Muggle husband dictated that she have no contact with her sister any more. Happily, she seemed to comply; therefore, Lily had not even heard from her sister, much less seen her since arriving home. The subject of Petunia attending the wedding hadn't been broached by any of them; it was understood she wouldn't be there.

Lily tried to connect with her parents. They assured her that their opinion of James was a high one and they had great hopes for their happiness. But any further discussion about her life, her studies, and her career were met with confused looks perched over forced, simpering smiles. Try as they might, they just couldn't understand the world she came from. And ailing health for them both exacerbated their limited capacity to comprehend a life outside of simple daily survival.

It would only be a few more days, she told herself as she drank a cup of tea and stared out the window at the drizzling rain. She wondered what James was doing and if there had been more gatherings of the Order of the Phoenix. She wondered if her roommate had remembered to feed the cat and if work was piling up for her. She felt useless and in the way in the small cottage, no longer familiar with her parents’ routine and customs.

“Did you hear that Eileen Snape finally passed, poor thing.” Her mother’s nonchalant voice broke into her thoughts.

“What?”

“The Snapes,” she rambled on, reheating her tea and busying herself about the small kitchen. “Weren't you friends with the boy? He went to Hogwarts. I thought you were close. She died last week. Though, she was on death’s door for years now. That no-good husband of hers saw to that. Good riddance to bad rubbish as far as he’s concerned. But I think their son is home settling the estate. Don’t know what he’s been up to, but I think he’s done well. Haven't you kept in touch?”

The topic stunned Lily, and at first she found no voice to answer, her mind too busy processing the names and images from the past. Vividly, she saw a young, dirty, bruised boy telling her fascinating stories about magic and a faraway school that they would soon go away to together. Equally clear was an awkward, thin teenager who held her hand secretly and pouted every time she outscored him in Potions. But the most vibrant image was an angry, mortified young man glaring at her and spitting the word “Mudblood” in front of half the school. His later apology had not taken away the knowledge that he would always consider her impure.

“I wanted to send a plant or maybe a nice dish over, but I never heard about a funeral or services.” Again, Lily’s mother's casual tone startled her.

“I haven’t talked to Severus in a long time,” Lily finally said. Her voice sounded strangely tight and high to her.

Then her mother was on to a new topic and task, chatting away cheerily as she watered plants, in hopes of disguising the fact that she really didn't know what to talk to her own daughter about.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rain had stopped but the day was still gloomy. There was a strange chill in the air for mid-summer. It reminded Lily of the recent trouble she had heard about Dementors and their congregating and breeding affecting the weather.

Laying a light jacket over her shoulders, she left the house and started down the street. It wasn’t long before the houses began to look startlingly drab and gray if not downright derelict. At the end of a shabby street, a tall, narrow house loomed. She had never been in it but had known it well. Now, as ever, it was impossible to tell if it was inhabited or abandoned.

The porch creaked and groaned, announcing her arrival, but her knock went unanswered for some time. Just as she was about to pronounce her plan foolish and run back home, the door opened a crack and a familiar black eye peered out at her.

For a moment the eye regarded her in silence and she it.

“Hello, Severus,” she said with a mustered smile.

The door opened enough for her to see a full-grown man now occupied the familiar form of her childhood friend. Still thin and gaunt with long, unkempt black hair, there was a mature resignation and stoic severity to his demeanor as he stood staring at this intruder on his porch.

“Lily,” spoken in a quiet, clipped voice was all the greeting she got in return.

“I just… I heard about your mother. I’m sorry. I’m home for a few weeks. I thought I’d come by and see if you need… wanted help.” The words tumbled awkwardly out of her mouth, and she forced herself to stop speaking in fear that she would say something that would earn her a door in the face.

He still said nothing while surveying her appearance into his life with suspicious caution.

“Can I come in?”

She had asked that question many times in their youth. Always he said no and made an excuse. Eventually she stopped asking. Later she realized that he was ashamed; probably more ashamed of the people within the walls than of the poor, drab house itself. It was a theory that was confirmed when he stepped away from the door to allow her passage into the Snape home, of which he was now the sole occupant and owner.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, the door snapped closed behind her, and she was plunged into near darkness. There was a heavy stench of damp mildew and dust and a slight hint of spoiled food. When her eyes adjusted, she saw she was in a small living room.

Severus moved around her and settled himself into a chair that was surrounded by open boxes. In the center of a floor was a large pile of papers, clothes, and various items that appeared to be destined for the trash heap.

“I’ve just been doing some cleaning,” he said as he surveyed a paper in front of his nose before letting it fall into the refuse pile. “This place has never been cleaned out.”

Now it was Lily who didn’t know what to say. She stood looking about the room and was overcome by an oppressive misery and sadness. Everything was worn, stained, and covered in dust. Heavy, dark drapes covered the windows, and the only light came from a dim lamp that cast a pathetic glow about the room. It was hard to imagine a young boy thriving and growing in such a household.

“Was she ill long?” Lily asked, trying to find some logical reason for the state of the house.

“Forever,” he muttered, his face buried in a box in his lap.

Lily then looked at the pile of trash on the floor. There was everything from clothes to books to photos, even a few broken toys and drawings. Spying a child’s rendering of a person riding a broom, she pulled it out of the heap and looked at it. It seemed quite old, and she was certain it was Severus’s creation from his youth. But before she could comment, it was snatched from her hand and shoved back under the pile.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as he continued with his task, ignoring her presence. She shifted about uncomfortably in the room, feeling like a trespasser.

“So, I hear congratulations are in order,” he finally said in a wry tone as he tossed more papers into the expanding heap on the floor.

“Are they?” Lily asked with an equally sardonic twitch of her eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” He gave her a derisive glance. “It’s your life, Lily. You tell me.”

“That’s right. It IS my life. I’m just surprised to hear you offer congratulations.”

“Would you rather hear what I really think?”

“I already know what you really think.”

“I doubt you do.”

“Well, then, why don't you enlighten me,” she said in challenge as she made her way to a dusty footstool amongst the clutter and sat down.

Snape met her confrontational stare with a dark look through lank strands of black hair.

“You don’t speak to me for almost three years and then suddenly show up at my doorstep handing out some weak offer of sympathy and I’m supposed to be grateful?” The bitterness dripped from every word.

Lily returned his stare and accusation with matched silent resolve. She felt shame and embarrassment and an urge to just get up and leave. But she refused to let him bully her.

“So, how are things with Lord Voldemort?” she tossed back with icy poise. “Lots of chances for advancement, are there? Have you moved up to head Death Eater yet? In charge of torture and dismemberment, maybe?”

Severus gave her a lethal look, then kicked his way free of the trash pile and escaped his chair to begin an enraged pace about the floor.

“Lily, if you just came here to accuse--” he began in a roar.

“No, I didn’t!” she shouted, as she too stood from her chair. “I didn’t come here for that. I came here because I haven’t talked to you in three years. And I thought it was time I did.”

“It’s long past that time now.” Bitterness still prevailed in his words.

“And what was there to say before?” she asked, crossing her arms. “That I’m sorry I was so unreasonably offended at being called a Mudblood and beg you to forgive me for requesting to be treated with a bit of dignity?”

He spun to face her. “I tried to apologize! Or do you not remember just turning your back on me?”

“Oh, I remember it all right because it broke my heart. You chose the dark arts over me.” She hadn’t realized that the words were true until she had spoken them. Suddenly she remembered the cold sadness that permeated her heart when she had stepped back through the Gryffindor portrait hole and left him standing alone in the hall, for it was the last she ever really said to him.

Severus seemed to find sick humor with her sentiment because it caused him to sneer and chuckle darkly. “You have no idea what a broken heart feels like.”

“How can you be so snide?” she gasped. “How can you assume that you know anything of my feelings? Are you so self-absorbed and miserable that you can’t look beyond that great beak of yours to see that other people besides you suffer?”

With one giant sweep of his arm, Severus sent a stack of boxes tumbling to the floor, spilling a further assortment of disjointed items onto the floor. He charged to within an inch of her face and glared with deathly dark eyes and lips quivering with rage.

“It broke me when you turned away,” he shouted. “It. BROKE. Me! There was no one I loved more than you. But I had nothing and I was nothing. I was desperate for some way to prove myself worthy of you. If you had only given me time, if only you had believed in me--”

“Believed in you?” she returned, gathering her wits after his passionate charge. “I was the only one who ever did believe in you, and I never needed to see a Dark Mark on your arm. You did all of that for you. For your own greed and pathetic need to be accepted. Don’t try to blame me for your mistake!”

Her eyes were starting to sting from tightly restrained tears threatening to break through, and she didn’t wish for him to see her still so upset by something she thought was long past. Making her own way free of the clutter and trash, Lily attempted to leave but strong fingers gabbed her arm in a painful grip.

“So you’re just going to run out on me again?” He spun her around to face him, his nails digging into her arms. “What did you come her for, Lily. Really, what was it? Absolution?” Severus gave a very slight twitch of his eyebrow as he stared deeply into her eyes from. “Curiosity? Or maybe to make sure you aren’t making the wrong choice?”

Lily tried for a sharp comeback but found no air in her lungs for speech. Nothing but a pitiful gurgle escaped her. His eyes held her in place, and she felt herself dragged down into their depths, unable to pull herself free.

“Did you come here looking for something the magnificent James Potter isn’t able to give you?” Severus asked with menacing quiet.

She had enough mobility to delivery a resounding slap to his face that she had hoped would break his hold on her. But even in his shock from the blow, he held tight and instead of getting away, Lily found herself suddenly smothered in a heavy, fierce kiss.

At first she fought, pulled, and punched at Severus. No matter which way she moved her head, he was there, suffocating her with his wet, lascivious mouth. Just as she was about to panic and lose all sense of sanity, she forced herself to relax and not fight. If she could lull him into thinking she was complying, she could perhaps break free.

Instead, a strange thing happened. She remembered the few hesitant, timid kisses they had shared as budding teens at school together. There had been a few fumbled gropings and cautious exploration. That was her memory of Severus’s affections. But this man before her was unfamiliar and foreign in comparison. His powerful kiss was startling and curiously arousing.

Lily found herself forgetting to fight her way free of his arms and allowed her body to conform to his, her lips became pliant, her tongue returned each stroke he delivered.

It was so unlike anything she had experienced with James. He was always a kind and gentle lover, which she had always appreciated. However, this new technique intrigued her, and she began to wonder exactly where Severus had learned such erotic aggression. A bubble of jealousy began to rise from her stomach as she found herself immediately disliking anyone who had spent time luxuriating with her childhood love and teaching him things that could have been theirs to discover together.

Lily suddenly couldn’t keep her hands from him. She clutched at Severus’s body and face, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper, claiming him for her own at that moment. They stumbled and teetered over heaps of overturned boxes and piles of trash that fenced them into the small living room. Their breaths came raggedly as Severus buried his mouth against her neck, pulling her shirt free of her skirt and running his hands over her bare back.

They mauled each other like starved animals feasting on an exquisite meal. Lily’s head swam from the intense feelings and emotions that coursed through her. Something kept telling her to stop, but it was such a weak and pathetic voice she easily ignored it and went on to tear at the buttons on Severus’s shirt.

Suddenly there was a funny feeling in her stomach, a pulling, and her whole body felt compressed against his. Her feet found new flooring under them, and she tumbled forward onto Severus. Under him was a mattress that caught their fall. He had Apparated them to the second floor. She was about to chastise him for his impertinence in assuming she would willing go to his bedroom when he rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed. The feel of his body on top of her was hard and angular.

Still, no words of protest came from her because his lips made her forget any objection she was prepared to declare. Something in her wanted him. She wanted this taboo, illicit moment with a man she hadn’t dared love or even think about in three years. It was an act that would forever damage her relationships if it were ever revealed. Lily was allowing a known Death Eater to make love to her. Who knew how many he had tortured, maimed, or killed? But his touch right then was about nothing but passion and desire. It was gentle and demanding, arousing and frightening. It was something she couldn’t even begin to consider how to reject.

Lily pulled at his clothing, revealing his flesh to her touch. He was warm, smooth, and hard. His skin was pale, and she could easily trace the outline of nearly every bone in his body. Severus’s own hands worked quickly to remove her clothing and experience every inch of her. His lips and fingers seemed to find places that no one had ever ventured, causing her to moan softly through a firmly bitten bottom lip.

When he pushed himself inside her eager, aching body, he looked deeply into her eyes, and she had no choice but to look back. He whispered silent words that she understood, though she couldn’t hear. He loved her, had always loved her, had wanted only her, would have died for her. His intensity was overwhelming. An avalanche of emotions and sensations threatened to smother her. Lily began to cry. Somewhere behind the gasps and cries of desire, tears spilled from her eyes. Her release was a mix of delirious tremors of ecstasy and shaking sobs of sorrow.

Severus came with a great shudder and deep groan. Then he lay still on top of her, his face against her neck, very quietly murmuring her name. When he saw that her face was wet with tears, he kissed them away and held her very close. Her tears led her to an exhausted slumber, and she later woke to find the room dark and Severus lying next to her, his arm draped over her protectively as he slept.

Suddenly it was clear to her what she had done. The reality of her actions fell around her like a ton of bricks. Lily groaned slightly and sat up. It was enough to awaken her bed companion.

He sat up too. “It’s all right, you can rest a while,” he said softly to her, trying to pull her back down next to him.

“No. No, I have to go,” she said in a flustered voice and began to crawl out of bed.

“Why? Where do you have to go?” he asked.

“I have to go home, Sev,” Lily replied, looking at his puzzled expression. “I leave in just two days.”

He looked more confused than ever.

“I’m getting married next week,” she reminded him.

Shock replaced confusion, and he sputtered for words as he gripped her arm to keep her from moving.

“Married? You would still marry James Potter after… after this?” He sounded disgusted and insulted.

Lily cringed. He didn’t understand. Just as he had done as a boy, he had assumed that what he wanted was what she wanted also. He had never stopped feeling entitled to her.

“Sev,” she began gently, “I do love you, I always will. But this doesn’t change anything. It was amazing and wonderful. But it was a mistake. ”

“Mistake? How can you say that?” he raged back at her. “You don’t love him. How can you marry him?”

Lily sighed heavily and took Severus’s hand from her arm and held it. “We’re alike, James and I. We want the same things. We believe the same things. He understands me.”

Saying it out loud finally cemented it in her heart also. All the doubts that had shadowed the corners of her mind since the engagement was announced vanished.

“I mean it when I say I’ll always love you. I will. How can I not love that little, skinny boy who first told me about magic?” She smiled dreamily as she stroked a lock of black hair out of his angry eyes. “But I wouldn’t have made you happy because you would never have been happy with yourself. I could never follow you on your path, and you would have never followed mine.”

He seemed stunned into silence. Lily took that moment to get up and start finding her clothes. She dressed and still he said nothing.

“Lily,” his voice was cold and tinged with what she recognized as pain. “I’ll give you one more chance not to walk out that door. Don’t become my enemy.”

He sat barely draped in a sheet, his pale skin glowing in the semi-darkness. His stare radiated sorrow and fury, causing her heart to cinch tightly in her chest.

She walked back to the bed and knelt upon it. His features seemed to relax as she took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

“I love you, Sev,” she whispered. “It won’t matter what side we fight from, I always will.”

Lily bolted from the room before he could stop her. She ran down the dark, narrow stairs and out of the house. Outside in the chilly rain, she could hear her name screamed once, then again. The sound of her running feet sloshing through puddles drowned out any more sounds. The cold drops mingled with the tears she cried all the way home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day was crisp and bright. Sun splashed down in beautiful, chaotic patterns through the trees. The outside garden was peppered with a small group of people. A man in flowing robes spoke a few words. The couple kissed and people cheered. She looked radiant. Or maybe it was just the sun dancing off of her brilliant, copper hair.

He watched until he thought his heart would explode in his chest He watched her kiss and hug people who weren’t worthy of her affections. He witnessed an event that he thought would never happen. He saw celebration alongside his own symbolic death. He could take no more.

Severus turned from the horrific sight and receded further into the trees where he Apparated back to the Dark Lord’s lair, leaving his heart behind forever.

Deathy Hallows Inspired Fan Fiction; "Not Here"

2007-07-25T19:45:36Z

The idea for this ficlet was created by my dear friend Ginny and I as a way to deal with some of the astounding revelations that were illustrated in Deathly Hallows. She wrote her own version at her Live Journal account (friend only), and I wrote mine, which ended up being strikingly similar! So I will dedicate this to her (Gin-Gin) and thank her for her wonderful beta services, too. (DH spoilers to follow, of course!)

"No honor was given to the fallen heroes of the war. But one lays alone and forgotten and deserving of so much more. She will see to it."

Not Here

She paid little attention to the dirt and dangling roots ensnaring her feet as she climbed through the hole. She hadn't cleaned the blood from her face. Her hair still hung in unruly, escaped strands about her head. The sounds of celebration, relief, and periodic grief faded behind her, the further she dived into the earthen passage. Her eyes stayed focused straight ahead, searching the approaching darkness before the light could reveal its secrets. Carefully she made her way, accompanied on her journey by only her wand light and dank, eerie silence.

After endless steps that further exhausted her tired, old feet, finally the tunnel began an upward slope and she knew she was near. Minerva emerged into an old, dilapidated house she hadn't set foot in for more years than she could remember. It felt as though nothing had changed, but she knew it had. Everything had. And she knew that somewhere in that ramshackle hovel something very important lay ignored and forgotten.

Immediately her eyes went to the rickety, soaring staircase and she knew her path must continue up it. On legs that hardly obeyed her command, shaking with nervous dread and fatigue, she began the upward climb. As though beckoned by a silent call, Minerva moved on until she came to an empty, tattered bedroom, draped in dim, gloomy light.

It was there she found what she had come for. Though in the murky shadows, she knew that the black, rumpled form on the floor was the fallen body of Severus Snape. For several moments she couldn't venture past the door. She stood leaning against its support, her hand unconsciously going to her aching heart.

"Oh, Severus," she whispered through fresh tears.

In time she was able to stir, but slowly and cautiously. Her steps were careful and quiet as though afraid of disturbing his slumber. A quick command brought the light in the room up to a reasonable level, which only revealed further shock and heartbreak. Voldemort was dead, the world was free of his tyranny. What few supporters that might be hanging about the shadows did not concern the usually stoic, fearless woman. But the sight before her did more damage than the flurry of spells she had dodged and blocked all night could have if they had landed every blow.

He lay in a long black heap, a pool of dark blood and wisps of memory in silvery fibers fanned out about him. The only contrast came from his splashes of ashen face and pale hands not covered in blood. His black eyes stared absently at Minerva with flat, dull scrutiny causing her heart to spasm with grief. No longer did they glitter with sharp cunning or burn wickedly over a passionate retort. They never would again.

When she finally found the control to force her body forward, she bent down next to the still form, ignoring the protest of her knees and the gore which would soak through her robes. With shaking hands, she reached to him and felt the iciness of his body. The true realization that he was gone seemed to be announced anew and wracking, silent sobs again shook her body. As she cried Minerva grasped his body and pulled him into her lap as a mother might a child in need of comfort.

His eyes now seemed to look through her, past her, into a different place, far away, into which he had already disappeared. She was struck by how light he felt, his body so thin under the thick black clothing. Cradling his head in the crook of her arm, she pushed the lank, black hair aside revealing a face that suddenly seemed too young to belong to the grown man she knew him to be.

Memories and visions of the past swam before her eyes. She saw Severus as a young boy, shabby, thin, and shy, entering Hogwarts with eyes as round with wonder and amazement as any new student. She remembered a determined boy willing his mouse, more with his mind than with his wand, to turn into a tea cup, and succeeding more quickly than most because of it. With shame she recalled the many times she had witnessed from the corner of her eye his harassment by bigger, older, or more popular students. And she now also remembered the times she had seen Severus walking quietly beside a vivacious red-head, casting looks of silent, veiled adoration that went unnoticed by most everyone including the girl.

Her feelings for the man in her arms had spanned the gamut. Sympathy, respect, fear, loathing, confusion, and sadness had all described her pronouncement of Severus Snape at one time or another. All too often he himself was to blame for her misjudgments for he never allowed anyone to truly know him. He seemed perfectly willing to be the object of hatred or fear based on rumor or speculation. He reveled in his own persona of a cold, heartless being who never felt and never cared. It made what she now knew about him more painful to realize. He had lived his life carrying a heavy burden of unrequited love and remorse, which had proven so painful and crippling that he must have decided long ago that hating was much easier than loving.

Tears ran down her withered cheek and fell onto his open, blank eye, for a moment, giving it a lively luster in which the light reflected and danced. But the effect quickly faded and the eyes again showed the emptiness underneath. With that, Minerva gently placed her fingers against his eyelids and lowered them, giving him a peaceful appearance she had never known him to have in life.

Drawing in a long, quivering breath, she pulled him to her and hugged him fiercely.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I never knew or understood you. I'm so sorry I couldn't find a way to trust you. And I'm so sorry you never trusted me. I can't make up for it now. But I will make sure everyone knows of your sacrifice and your honor. And I will NOT leave you here in this horrible place."

Pressing her trembling lips to his cold forehead, she kissed him lovingly. Then, gently she laid him down and straightened his limbs. Taking her own damp handkerchief, Minerva began to wipe the stains from his face, never thinking once that a quick spell would do a better job. For some reason, she felt he deserved something more personal. She never recalled ever touching him herself or seeing anyone else touch him. It was a lonely existence to which no one deserved to be sentenced to. For all her good intentions, only a spell would remove the tell-tale blood from his clothing and hair. But soon he looked as neat and composed as he had every day of his life.

Another wave of tears threatened her. Instead she steeled herself and gave the peaceful man a well-practiced, stern look.

“If you and Albus had only told someone, things could have been different,” she chastised. “And frankly, I’m very angry with you both. You’ve left us and I feel positively lost. The students feel lost. What is Hogwarts going to do without you? When I get a chance to have a word with the portraits of the last two Hogwarts’ headmasters, don’t think I won’t have quite a speech to make!”

She sighed tiredly. “Well, you two certainly deserve each other and can spend the rest of eternity feeling smug about your successful plans because I’m planting you right next to Dumbledore on the campus grounds, Severus. We’ll have a special memorial service and dedicate a statue and a plaque to all the friends and family we’ve lost. It will be quite grand. You will have hated it, I’m sure,” she said to him as she straightened his cravat.

Finally, she rose from her spot on the floor, but not without great effort and great protest from her body. A flick of her wand elevated Severus’s body off the floor.

“We’re going now, headmaster,” she commented to him as they both moved toward the door. “There is a special place of honor already prepared for our heroes and it is most definitely not here.”

Madame Potion: Chapter Nineteen

2007-07-20T02:40:25Z

Year Eight: To Burn in Heaven

and when we're done
soul searching
as we carried the weight
and died for the cause
is misery
made beautiful
right before our eyes
will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand

will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come while we're waiting
everyone is waiting
Witness -- Sarah McLachlan

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

Instead of warm sun, rain poured through the damaged roof of the old orphanage sanctuary in weak streams, pooling into dirty puddles on the ancient wood floor. For nearly 24 hours, the rain had continued unabated. Finally, the weather mirrored the atmosphere in Snape's mind: turbulent, dark, and oppressive.

The Dark Lord walked in circles around the water as though surveying its progress. Snape stood silently, awaiting acknowledgement.

"I do dislike bad news, Severus."

"I understand, my lord. And though it is most unfortunate, I don't see this as being a problem we cannot overcome." He paused for a moment, and after receiving no more comment, he continued. "Madame Collins did not survive the after-effects of the Cruciatus. She expired shortly after we left here. It was sudden. There was nothing I could do."

The Dark Lord didn't modify his pacing at the news. He seemed to hardly acknowledge the words at all. And Snape again waited for some sign of comprehension from his master.

"Not a surprising turn of events," the dark wizard finally spoke in a calm lilt. "And perhaps even for the best. She would never have allowed us to progress with our plans unaltered. No bother. You will be in charge of the potions, ceremony, and of course, the Vessel herself."

Snape felt a hot, excited flutter in his stomach. "Of course, my lord. It will be my honor to serve you."

"In fact, you can take her with you now," the Dark Lord replied as he waved his wand and summoned Davindra through the open door. "She is a rather morose young woman. She does nothing to soothe my nerves. I needn't see her again until the coupling."

Davindra walked slowly into the room. Her hair was disheveled and her robes rumpled. It looked as though she had received no more sleep than Snape had. He wondered what other tortures she had endured. Tired, bloodshot, pale eyes gave him a weary look of relief at his presence.

The Dark Lord approached Davindra and reached out to smooth her gnarled hair with his bony, colorless hand. She no longer flinched, Snape noticed.

"Tell me, Severus," the wizard asked. "Were you quite fond of Davindra during your time together?"

Snape measured his words carefully. "She was intelligent and pleasurable. I suppose I thought no more of her."

"You weren't in love with her, then?"

He let out an easy chuckle. "No, my lord."

"That's interesting," the Dark Lord continued with smooth elocution. "For it appears that she is quite in love with you."

Obviously he had spent quite a bit of time prowling about the corners of Davindra's mind to discover all of her secrets. Snape chastised himself for not thinking to teach her Occlumency instead of focusing so many obscure potions.

"And it seems that you two spent a fair amount of time in each other's company."

"She was quite persistent in her pursuit of my attentions, my lord."

"And you never worried of Dumbledore discovering your illicit little secret?" There was suspicion in the question.

"He knew," Snape replied plainly. "There have always been many illicit secrets at Hogwarts. It is an unwritten rule that most get ignored unless someone complains."

"You are lucky your job was never in danger," the Dark Lord said darkly. "If you would have lost your easy access to Dumbledore, all of our plans would have been risked."

"Indeed, my lord. But it was never an issue. I would have never allowed it to be."

Davindra had remained silent and still during their exchange, and both men looked to her now. The subject of their discussion looked back with tired disinterest, as though she had grown accustomed to being discussed as a static entity.

The Dark Lord then gave her a firm shove in Snape's direction. “You will be under Severus’s care from now on. I do not want to hear of any trouble from you.” He then turned to address Snape with chilling cynicism. "Just remember to whom she belongs now, Professor.”

Silently Davindra allowed Snape to lead her from the Dark Lord’s presence. After they had made many steps away from the sanctuary, she seemed to wake from her silent trance.

“Where's Grandmother?”

Snape paused in his stride to look at her. ‘Might as well be blunt and get it over with.’

“She was far too weak to withstand a Torture Curse of that magnitude. She died before I could even get her home.” He spoke frankly but with a modicum of reverence.

“Dead?” Davindra said the word as though it were foreign to her.

Snape nodded. “There was nothing I could do.”

“And how do I know that you didn’t kill her yourself?” Her accusation was clipped and cold as she crossed her arms and stared him down.

“You saw how she had to be carried out of here,” Snape replied. “She didn’t even make it out of the courtyard. I transfigured her into a single bone and buried her in the garden behind her home. We’re going there now. You can see for yourself.”

Sadness and anger seemed to charge through Davindra as she turned from him and continued down the hall with quick, snapping steps.

Snape had to hurry on to catch up with her, but just as he did, Bellatrix Lestrange appeared before them in a quick, silent manner. The pair stopped short to keep from running into her.

Snape gave her a tight, lethal smile. “Bellatrix, if you don’t mind, we are in a hurry.”

In return, she smiled a slick, wicked smirk as she focused on Davindra. “So this is the little pretty who was awarded the honor of giving the Dark Lord his heir?” Bellatrix circled her with critical eyes. “And a Mudblood, even,” she sighed disappointedly.

“Jealous?” Snape asked with a twitch of his eyebrow. “Though I hardly think even magic could bring that decrepit body of yours back into fertility.”

Bellatrix glared. “This body seemed more than adequate in pleasing you, Severus. Or have you forgotten our little celebration after you returned from killing Dumbledore.” The woman gave a mean smile to Davindra.

Davindra shot a look of deadly contempt to Bellatrix before she then turned it to Snape.

“Actually, it has appeared to slip my mind totally,” Snape quipped.

“Then perhaps you need a reminder,” Bellatrix sneered, leaning in to him. “It seems that cavorting with children has dulled your senses to what a real woman can do.” Again she narrowed her eyes at Davindra.

With what sounded like a snort of fury, Davindra pushed past Snape and Bellatrix to exit the building, slamming the door behind her.

Bellatrix watched while making sardonic tsking sounds. “I think I’ve stepped on her pretty little Mudblood toes. Why do men of talent and power always choose cheap youth and beauty over brains and breeding?”

Snape gave her a hard leer as he moved to follow. “Interesting change of philosophy considering that before Azkaban you yourself were little more than cheap youth and beauty.”

He left Bellatrix snarling promises of retaliation and undoubtedly reaching for her wand. A quick exit shielded him from her wrath as he hurried to catch Davindra making her way down the crumbling stone stairs to the overgrown walk.

Finally reaching her, he firmly grabbed her arm, which she immediately shook lose of his grip.

“I do not need to be man-handled,” she snarled at him.

“You heard the Dark Lord,” Snape warned. “He said there was to be no trouble.”

Outside the orphanage, Snape roughly crushed Davindra to his chest. She fought against his embrace until they Disapparated and were standing outside Madame Collins’s old stone residence. Climbing roses and ivy covered the low walls around the yard, and birds were beginning to sing brightly now that the rain had eased. It looked strangely homey and comforting to Snape, even though he had buried its owner there hours before.

Davindra stared at the house sadly. Ignoring her sorrow, Snape charged through the front door, ordering her to follow. He had spent the entire night before poring over the instructions for the fertility and blood potions in hopes of finding something that could be unnoticeably altered to render it ineffective. Going through Madame Collins’s library and stock of supplies and ingredients had given him few ideas. He knew that lack of sleep hindered his thought process further, but he felt unable to give himself over to comforts until he had an answer.

Once inside the home, Snape headed back to the work area. Davindra slowly walked around in helpless circles, probably reliving her better memories of her grandmother as she picked up and gazed at various objects.

The next time Snape looked up, she was nowhere to be seen. A short, frantic search found her in the back garden, sitting on the low wall near the rosebush under which he had buried Madame Collins. It was the largest of the collection with blood-red roses so deep and rich, their buds looked like drops of midnight. It was very near the same spot in which Madame Collins had been sitting when Snape had paid his one visit to her there, six years earlier.

Snape sat on the vacant space next to Davindra and waited for her to speak. He expected questions about Dumbledore, Madame Collins, Snape’s service to the Dark Lord, or even his plans for how to save her. What he got instead caught him off guard.

“So you actually fucked her?” Davindra’s words were formed into a bitter accusation.

Snape stared at her in shock for a moment before he could speak. “Your grandmother is dead,” he began incredulously. “In three weeks time you will have to submit to the Dark Lord to conceive a child who will be sacrificed along side you, and the entire wizarding world will forever change. And you have chosen THAT to be upset about?”

“Oh, I cannot even begin to select all the things that I am upset about,” she answered angrily. “But that is perhaps the cherry on the cake of my misery. I expect betrayal and deceit from many people. I hadn’t anticipated it from you.”

An annoyed hiss of breath whistled past Snape’s teeth as he made efforts to control his rage. “Believe me, out of all the horrible things I have had to do for my own survival, I rank sex with Bellatrix Lestrange as one of my most distasteful tasks.”

“But you did it anyway,” she pointed out.

“Because I had to,” Snape snapped. “I couldn’t let the Dark Lord’s biggest snitch know that I…” He found himself unsure of how to finish the sentence. That he was what? Too ill with grief and revulsion to even think about sex? Too obsessed with Davindra to even tolerate another woman’s touch?

She looked to him to finish his own defense.

“There are many things you could never understand about what I have had to do,” he finally said.

Davindra took her eyes away from him with no comment and returned to staring at the roses.

“So where are you in all this, Severus?” she asked in a much less harsh voice. “Are you really the Dark Lord’s most faithful servant who happily struck down Dumbledore and plans to deliver me to his master on a bed of satin? Or are you still that mysterious double spy who crafted a convincing illusion and has many tricks still up his sleeve?”

Again she turned her pale, entrancing eyes to him, making it harder for him to evade the question.

“What do you think?”

“I know what I want to think. I know the man I’ve loved for many years now. But I don’t feel as though I can trust anything anymore.”

“When did you find out about your grandmother’s arrangement with the Dark Lord?” Snape asked, finding a path for diversion.

Davindra sighed. “After Dumbledore was killed. Instead of Mother and Granny Lilly meeting me at the train, it was Grandmother. I refused to go with her at first. But she said she had important things to tell me, and it involved why my birthmark had been bothering me so much. I hadn’t told her about that. I was scared but curious. I didn’t believe her at first. I mean, it was just so ludicrous! But she showed me a contract she had signed, and she kept talking about how the wizarding world would be at our feet and that I would be the mother of a new nation. And strangely, I think when she saw how upset I was over it all, she looked a little scared too. I think she had started to question herself long before. She honestly didn’t know about the sacrifice. ”

Somehow, Snape felt a small bit of comfort in the fact that Davindra had been as ignorant of the plans as he.

“Her last words were that I had to do something to save you,” he said quietly. “Misguided as her ambitions were, I do believe she meant it when she said you were the most important thing in her life.”

“So, are you going to let me die, Severus?” she asked quietly.

Snape took a breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he answered, “Only after I myself am dead.”

He felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. The sun had now emerged from behind the clouds to bathe the garden in radiant light.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the day started fading and the house got dark and shadowy, Davindra went around lighting candles and lamps, giving the place a warm glow. Snape had had his nose in books for hours and had not stopped to realize how late it was or that he hadn’t eaten in days.

He asked Davindra to fix them something to eat, and she silently obliged. Though she was far from the talkative, playful girl he had spent so much time with, she was at least no longer hostile to him. They were quietly existing in the same space, much like they used to at Hogwarts. Snape found it blissfully soothing and familiar. If only there were not the nagging task of saving her life to be overcome, he would happily live the rest of his days right there with not a single thing changed. The thought startled him. As did the plate that was shoved under his nose at that moment.

Mindlessly Snape ate the sandwich before him and continued to think. Davindra too ate while she stood in the doorway of the workroom, leaning against the door jam.

He stopped chewing long enough to ask, “What in the name of Merlin is this you are feeding me?” as he peered between the slices of bread.

“Tinned meat. Sorry, but there wasn’t a lot of choices,” she replied wearily.

Snape made a face but ate anyway. The sandwich quickly vanished and Snape dusted off his hands and coat, then stood to stretch his aching, tired back, which creaked and snapped in protest. Slowly walking about the room, Snape looked at the pictures, paintings, and tapestries that crowded the walls. Hidden amongst the frames was a small, official looking document from a Muggle hospital. On it were the tiny feet prints of an infant and the declaration that on November 13th, 1978 Davindra Daphne Collins was brought into the world.

“Davindra Daphne?” Snape asked snidely. “Sounds like a French poodle.”

“I know,” she said with resigned embarrassment. “So what’s your middle name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Yes, you do, Severus Tobias,” she replied with amusement.

He turned to give her a sharp glare. “I can only assume you found that out by snooping.”

“Of course,” she said with a slight smile.

“It was my father’s name. The less mention I hear of him, the better.” Snape let the comment drop after. He didn’t wish to get into a diatribe on how much he loathed the man who sired him.

“I think my mother was reading a lot of tragic, historical romances when she was pregnant with me,” Davindra said. “Daphne was probably some wretched woman who died of a broken heart or for some noble cause.”

‘Let’s hope that legacy isn’t continued,’ Snape couldn’t help but think.

“It’s getting late. You should get some rest,” he said to her.

“When was the last time you slept?” she asked, still leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ll sleep later,” he replied as he went back to the books he had covered the worktable with. “I want to do a bit more work.”

“Severus, you haven’t slept in days. I can tell.” There was familiar scolding in her voice. “You won’t do either of us any good if you drop from exhaustion.”

“There are potions for that,” Snape snapped back at her. “Now go to bed, Davindra, and leave me in peace.”

An exasperated sigh escaped her, but she left him. Immediately he missed her presence and wished he hadn’t be so cross with her. Maybe he did need some sleep.

Somehow he did manage to force a couple more hours of work out of himself before his eyes refused to focus. Too tired to even look for Pepper-up Potion, he went in search of a bed. The downstairs settees were too short or narrow to hold him. So he went upstairs looking for an empty bedroom.

An ajar door at the end of the hall caught Snape’s attention, and he went toward it. Inside he found a small light coating the room in a dim glow and the bed already occupied by Davindra. She was curled into a fetal position with her back to him. Hoping to escape unnoticed he started to back out.

“I’m not asleep, you know,” she said softly. She then turned over to look at him. “Stay with me.”

Snape stayed rooted in his spot, staring at her, his hand still on the doorknob, and weighing his choices.

‘Just turn and go. Sleep in a broom cupboard if you have to.’

Strangely though, Snape found himself inside the room, shrugging off his coat and tugging off his boots while sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyelids suddenly felt like leaden window shades. Firm, gentle hands on his shoulders pulled him down on the bed until his head landed on a pillow. Unintentionally, he let out a long groan of relief at the feel of his spine relaxing against the soft mattress.

Her body lay next to him, but not touching. He could sense her closeness and hear her breath. He could feel her eyes on him and it was the one thing that kept him from drifting off.

“Why did you kill him?” The question was delivered in such a soft, gentle voice that it actually seemed bearable to hear.

Slowly his eyes opened and Snape stared at the ceiling. “Because I had to,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Because he ordered me to. He was weak and dying. He knew that he was becoming an easy target for the Dark Lord and a detriment to the rebellion.”

“You didn’t want to.” It was a statement of observance rather than a question, for which Snape was grateful.

“No, I didn’t want to. But he allowed me no other choice. I owed him far too much.”

“Then it was very brave of you.”

For all his exhaustion Snape managed a weak chuckle of scorn. “Brave. Haven’t heard that word in a long time.”

“What are you going to do now? Everyone thinks you’re a murderer. You’re a spy without a faction.”

“Try to stay alive.”

He felt her body melt against him, her head rest on his shoulder, her arms encircle his waist. It was probable that Snape fell asleep before his eyes actually closed.

When consciousness next came to him, he was sure that he had only slept for a few moments. But the room was flooded with brilliant sun, and he realized he has slept a very long time without moving a muscle. His body felt slightly stiff as he sat up and surveyed the room. It was a cozy space obviously decorated with a female flair due to the floral patterned wallpaper, delicate furniture, and light draperies that fluttered in the morning breeze. At that point Snape realized that the space next to him on the bed was empty. Davindra was gone.

Panic swept over him as he climbed out of bed and ran out of the room calling her name. What if she had escaped him? What if she had Disapparated to some remote spot he could never trace? What if she had been taken? Down the stairs he flew. He was suddenly regretting taking the amulet away from her. If they were still bound, he could have found her anywhere.

The double doors that led to the garden were wide open, and Snape rushed through them to see Davindra dressed in Muggle summer clothes bent over a stand of weedy stalks with yellow flowers. She turned to him as he approached and gave an easy, warm smile.

“I saw that you might be needing some St. John’s wort,” she said shaking a fist full of dewy herb at him. “These are slightly past prime harvest time, but still good. So, since I was up anyway…” She gave a shrug of obvious conclusion.

Snape found himself breathing a sigh of relief and almost laughing at his over-active paranoia.

“What’s the matter? You must still be tired. Why don’t we have breakfast?”

Before Snape could even comment, Davindra rushed into the house in a manic pace.

‘I hope she isn’t always this lively in the mornings,’ he thought with annoyance.

They stood in the kitchen, Davindra handing him a mug of tea, then toast and jam. They ate silently. It was almost normal, the two of them starting a morning routine, quietly accepting each other’s preferences and moods.

After Snape finished, he headed for the workshop. Davindra followed closely behind. He turned and looked at her.

“I have to deliver a dose of fertility potion to the Dark Lord by this evening,” he said.

She nodded.

“You’ll have to start yours tonight also.”

Again she nodded.

“I’ve brewed the weakest dose I dared.”

“When you’re out, try to get some groceries. That is, if you don’t want tinned meat sandwiches anymore.”

She turned from him and went back to the kitchen.

Davindra stayed scarce for most of the morning, leaving him to finish the brewing process in peace. He continued to think and ponder what could be done to change the events that awaited them. If only he had access to some of his notes and books from school. Suddenly, he remembered Tom Riddle’s spell book. It would surely have secrets to the process in it. Snape had no idea what had happened to the original he had give to Dumbledore. His own copy was hidden in his office. But he was certain that Madame Collins would have kept a copy for herself. Knowing her, he was more than certain, in fact.

He began looking through every shelf he found, flipping through every book and examining every object. Davindra came in and found him nearly destroying her late grandmother’s library.

“What are you doing?” she asked in alarm.

“I’m looking for something.”

“Obviously! But do you need to tear the place apart to find it?”

Snape glanced over his shoulder to give her an exasperated scowl. “There isn’t time to be fastidious. I have to find a certain book. Do you remember an old, worn journal with hand written spells and potions like what I had you digging for at Hogwarts?”

“That describes most of Grandmother’s collection,” she quipped dryly.

He stopped his pillaging when he realized it wasn’t there. “Where would she have kept something very valuable and secret?” he asked Davindra.

Looking bewildered, Davindra appeared to be thinking. Then her eyes went to a corner of the adjacent sitting room. With a furrowed brow of uncertainty, she moved into the room and began feeling about the panels. Snape followed with great interest.

“I used to find her in here, at this spot, always looking a bit suspicious and trying to hide whatever she was holding,” she said.

Snape drew his wand and spoke an incantation at the wall. There was heavy magic protecting something. It might take months to figure out Madame Collins’s system of charms.

“Any ideas?” Snape asked Davindra with little hope of an answer.

Again her brow knitted together in an intense stare at the spot on the wall. Extracting her wand from her back pocket, she raised it.

“Sub Rosa,” she spoke and waved her wand in a swirling movement.

A small click sounded and a panel popped away from the wall. Snape looked at Davindra with impressed surprise.

Davindra gave him a slightly shocked smile. “It was a guess.”

“A lucky one indeed.”

Inside the shallow, hidden cabinet was a collection of books, bottles, boxes, and trinkets. Normally Snape would have enjoyed going through every item to discover what illegal and interesting secrets Madame Collins had been hiding away. But now he was too set on finding the book to take the time. The first few books were nothing but personal notes and records of potions she had done. The next one bit his finger. He threw it against the far wall, and it squeaked in pain as it landed. At last a familiar one fell into his hands. Immediately he recognized the scratchy scrawl of the handwriting. An exact copy of Tom Riddle’s book. Or perhaps even, the original. This book felt heavier and darker than the one he had kept hidden for several years.

Immediately, Snape started leafing through the pages, completely forgetting about Davindra until she demanded to know what he had found.

“Something that might actually save us,” he murmured as he hurried back into the workshop.

He scanned through pages until his eyes caught something that might be of interest. Only then did he notice that Davindra was leaning on his shoulder reading along with him. After giving her an impatient, waspish glare, she backed away and paced about the work room.

Though Snape saw many familiar potions and spells he had studied before from his own copy of the book, he also saw things that were not in his. Madame Collins had been holding out on him. She had planted a decoy for him to find and use but kept the best magic secret for herself. This included some scattered notes on the “Vessel Sacrifice.” No concrete instructions were listed. It was mostly a rough outline and unfinished thoughts with various tries at a coherent recipe. Snape wondered how the Dark Lord ever perfected the process. Amongst the scribbles were scratched out ingredients, measurements, and incantations. It seemed that too much of certain ingredients inhibited the absorption of the fertility potion. Perhaps trace amounts of several of these could do the same.

Davindra still paced about him. “What?” she asked expectantly when he put the book down and stroked his lip in thought.

Taking the St. John’s wort she had picked earlier and a sharp knife, he indicated for her to go to the table and begin working.

“Do a fine chop, but be sure not to bruise the pedals,” he instructed.

They both set out working to finish the potion he would deliver that night. Quietly and quickly they labored. It felt almost like being back in his office or classroom, her gentle presence soothing him and distracting him all at once.

“It will need a short curing time,” he finally pronounced, capping a bottle and setting it aside.

Davindra sighed and sat down. “I’m going to actually have to have sex with that man,” she uttered in a depressed tone, her chin in her hands.

“You just now realized that?” Snape asked as he began clearing away some of the mess he had made over the last two days.

“No, I’ve known. I just didn’t let myself think about it.”

“I’m trying everything I can to keep it from coming to that. But until then, I suggest you continue to not think about it until the time comes.”

“The thought probably doesn’t bother you in the least, does it?” she asked, sounding more than wounded.

Snape pursed his lips and gave her a narrowed glance. Of course the thought had bothered him. It had torn and slashed at his mind and heart from the moment he had learned of the whole plan.

“It is simply an act of procreation. I can assure you that the Dark Lord would probably find little pleasure in it except for the thought that it would lead to his immortality,” Snape explained.

“If he were any other man, would you feel the same way?” She gave him a deep, pleading look.

‘I’d kill anyone who attempted it.’ Snape placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her.

“He would just be using your body for a very brief time,” he said quietly. “It isn’t your soul and it isn’t your heart. You would be giving him nothing of yourself.”

She snorted with bitter disbelief. “Is that what you did with Bellatrix Lestrange?” Her gaze turned accusing and harsh.

Snape returned a scowl. “Basically.” He waved his wand and commanded the piles of books to reshelf themselves. “Your mind can get you through any number of horrible encounters if you only use it. It was my fault I never taught you Occlumency.”

“So how did you get through such a horrible encounter as shagging that old beast?” she asked snidely.

He spun around sharply to face her, his nose inches away from hers, and glared into her chilly green eyes. “I thought about you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she spat back resentfully.

“THAT is only meant to show you that your body and mind are separate, and they never have to be in the same place at the same time if you do not wish it.” His words were sharp, and his voice was bitter. Not only did he wish to forget about the humiliating night with Bellatrix, but he loathed the idea of groveling to Davindra out of guilt.

She stood up abruptly. “How would you have any idea of what it’s like to not only submit to a rape, but also to know that you are to bear the devil’s spawn and that your life will end after nine months of carrying it.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Snape replied.

She shook her head in disgusted defeat. “It’s hopeless. I don’t know why you think you can fight him. No one else can.”

With a quick turn she stormed from the room and up the stairs. Her hurried, stomping footsteps sounding all the way to her bedroom.

For several moments Snape stood and just swallowed down calming breaths. Honestly, even he wasn’t sure he could stop it all from happening, but he knew he would die trying rather than give up. It might not mean anything to her, but it was the one thing that kept him going.

Finally, he climbed the stairs after her. Slowly he approached her room. He was surprised to not find the door locked against him, but standing open, as though she had hoped he would come after her.

She sat on the bed, facing a window that framed the sun setting over the distant trees. He knew his presence was recognized though she didn’t move. Snape made his way to the distant side of the bed to sit next to her and take in the same view.

For several moments they didn’t speak nor look at each other.

“Do you want me to just give up?” he asked. “Do you think I’ve lasted this long dancing between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord by quitting when it got difficult?”

“Frankly, I don’t know how you’ve done it,” she replied tiredly. “I’m about to throw myself in front of speeding truck just to end the agonizing worrying and waiting.” A faint chuckle escaped her as she pushed the hair from her face and dragged her fingers through its length. “Actually, that would solve most of the issue right there, wouldn’t it?”

Snape gave her a hard stare. The very idea that she could even consider it was horrifying.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he snapped at her. “There is enough laying down of lives in this useless war as it is.”

“If there is honestly no other way, if everything else fails…” she began.

Snape grabbed her by the arms to force her to look at him. “I will not allow it. Not now and not ever. I had to watch and participate in Dumbledore’s sacrifice of himself because of the Dark Lord. I will not do the same for you.”

She looked into him with bottomless sincerity, and before Snape could react, she kissed him. Her lips stayed upon his own in firm pressure, which he did not admonish, for several seconds. Though he knew he shouldn’t, that they were skirting a dangerous venture, that he might not have the resolve to stop himself if he went further, Snape cupped her face and opened his lips to deepen the kiss.

It was like heaven was seeping into his veins. The months of hunger for her could no longer be denied. Her response seemed to say she felt all the same emotions and longings as he. Soft moans of pleasure and contentment reverberated from her throat at each plunging stroke of his tongue. Her hands clutched and grasped at his body and hair.

They found themselves rolling upon the bed, limbs entwined, bodies grinding against one another, hands stroking and pulling clothing aside.

Then, from out of the fog of lusty desire, the words of the Dark Lord echoed inside Snape’s head. ‘Remember to whom she belongs now.’ He sat up as though he had been hexed. Still panting and tingling with expectant pleasure, Snape attempted to gain some control over his raging mind and body.

Confused at her sudden abandonment, Davindra sat up also and reached out a hand to touch him. “What is it?”

He flinched away from her and shifted to the edge of the bed. “We can’t do this, Davindra,” he said tightly. “You are not mine to have.”

She scooted beside him, and, taking his chin in her hand, forced him to look at her.

“I’ve always been yours,” she stated plainly with fierce resolve etched into her face. “I always will be. There is nothing and no one on earth or in heaven who can change that.”

“I think the Dark Lord would beg to differ with you,” Snape replied tersely. His eyes could not be pried from her lips, the softest place in existence and to which he begged to return.

“I won’t allow him to take the last bit of pleasure from my life. He’s taken everything else: my family, my freedom, my future, even control over my own body. I am left with very little but my love for you. I won’t let anyone tell me I don’t have a right to it.”

When she made another attempt to close in on him, Snape didn’t retreat. Her impassioned words seemed to fill his heart with a heavy sensation that made it impossible for him to move. He remained frozen as her hand gently brushed through his lank, oily hair and her lips brushed his cheek.

“I belong to no one but you,” she whispered near his ear.

Snape was filled with a rebellious urge to revolt against the chains that bound him to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. Wasn’t his ultimate goal to assist in toppling the evil wizard’s reign and free not only himself but all of the wizarding world from the Dark Lord’s imperious enslavement? Snape owed him no honor and no sacrifice. Likewise, Snape knew little pleasure in his life but for her. Until he could slash at that vial creature’s crumpled body and stomp on his broken bones in sanctimonious revenge, Snape would satisfy himself with taking back what was rightfully his.

Renewed passion overtook Snape when Davindra’s lip again found his. The idea that he was defiling the Dark Lord’s most cherished weapon only spurred on his lustful longing.

This time, the extracting of clothing was successful and soon they lay skin to skin. The sensation of her warm flesh felt like coming home to Snape, and he resisted every urge within him to whisper of his delirious gratitude. Her firm, supple flesh and gentle, teasing strokes drove all memories of Bellatrix Lestrange’s assault from his mind.

Savoring every aspect of her that he had spent months fantasizing about took him to every part of her body. His fingernails raked over her thighs as he kissed the outline of her ribs. His tongue swirled around her breast until it peaked upon her hardened nipple. His teeth nipped and dragged across her flesh. All the while she squirmed and writhed against him, her hands clawing at his arms, back, and hair in a slow, deliciously sharp fashion. But always he returned to her lips as though to remind himself that sheer perfection was available for him to partake. The softness, pliability, and moist texture of her mouth made her the most intoxicating kisser he had ever encountered, his own skills considered far from expert.

Soon her insistent directing took him to that warm, wet area of his most desperate desires. Greedily she begged for his fingers, then his mouth, and then for all of him. He was more than willing and ready to oblige any request she made of him. As her heat slid around him, he stared into her eyes and remembered when feeling lost in them gave him a sense of disturbed panic, causing him to retreat from her presence. Now he would happily drown in those pale pools of ash, jade, and emerald.

The closer they approached to their release the more she whispered her words of eternal adoration and devotion. Snape almost requested she be quiet when amongst her breathless, tumbling words, she uttered, “Before I die, I want to hear you say it just once.”

The comment broke his rhythm. “I won’t let you die,” he replied, then continued in his labor.

Moments later, quivering waves of ecstasy washed through him and then her, leaving them both blissfully weak.

“It would be worth it,” she later said softly.

“What?”

“Dying. To hear those words from you.”

“That would be a ridiculous thing to waste your life for,” he replied with well-practiced apathy as he moved to lie next to her.

Davindra looked at him solemnly. “You wouldn’t know because you haven’t starved to hear it.”

If only she understood how his whole life had been a barren wasteland of unspoken words and unrequited emotions. She had been showered with love and praise since she was born. What did she know of true neglect and isolation? But no quick, sharp reply sprang from him to insult her.

“When I finally found you at Payne Hollow,” she began in a quiet voice as she curled onto her side near him, “I wasn’t sure if I would spit in your face or fall at your feet. But I took one look at you, and nothing else mattered. What you said and did to me at Hogwarts didn’t matter. Killing Dumbledore and serving the Dark Lord didn’t matter. I would have submitted to anything you asked of me.”

Snape just stared at the ceiling as her words trickled into his ear and seeped into his soul.

“Do you know I became yours the first time you touched me, showing me how to properly stir a cauldron in slow semi-circles during my second year? I pledged myself to you that day and waited four years for you to claim me.”

“I am no more worthy of your pledge than the Dark Lord,” he replied, letting the back of his hand rest against his forehead. “And using you like I did when you were hardly sixteen was little better than what he has planned for you.”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to him,” Davindra gasped, rising up on her elbows. “You are risking your life at this very moment to try to save me. You are nothing like him.”

“It’s not because I didn’t want to be,” he stated darkly, old memories sliding past his mind’s eye. “I wanted it very badly. I had plans to be his second in command, to lead an army of the most fearsome Death Eaters. But I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t bear the death, torture, and destruction. I went crawling to Dumbledore on my knees. I begged. Begged and pleaded with him to take me in. I said I would spill every secret I possessed about the Dark Lord and all his followers if he would only allow me refuge in his fold. And he let me grovel and barter until he was satisfied with my degradation. It came far less easily than handing myself over to the Dark Lord. I’ve paid for it ever since. Dumbledore never let me forget that I owed not only him but also the entire wizarding race restitution for all the damage I had helped inflict. Cleverly, I made the Dark Lord think it was his idea that I become a double spy when he found out I’d been sneaking over to the other side. I lived in sheer terror for months until his supposed death. But I was no freer then, for I now had a debt to Dumbledore, which I was certain I would never be out from under. I pictured myself dying in that dungeon, teaching a room full of thick-headed children. Now, I crave that peaceful end instead of what awaits me.”

Snape stopped speaking and looked at Davindra who gazed at him with sad eyes.

“So, you see,” he added quietly. “It wasn’t valor or righteousness that kept me from being like the Dark Lord. It was cowardice. I am noble only by default.”

Throwing back the covers, Snape got up and began searching for his clothes.

“Would you be any happier if you had managed to become what you aspired to?” she asked, sitting on her knees and drawing the sheet around her.

Pulling his shirt over his head allowed him to avoid her interrogating stare. “Happiness has never been my objective nor my destiny. Success and power were all I craved in those days.”

His boots were next and he sat on the bed to stomp his feet into them.

“What about now?” she pressed on. “What do you want now?”

Snape stopped with his elbows on his knees, the question a surprising puzzle to him.

“Peace,” he finally answered.

Standing, he found his coat and shrugged it on. “I have to deliver the potion to the Dark Lord. I’m not sure how long I will be. If for any reason I’m not back by morning---”

“You’ll be back!” Davindra interjected passionately.

Securing the last few buttons, he headed for the door, then turned. A few short steps found him at the bed to deliver a short kiss to the sliver of forehead that showed from behind her bangs.

“Don’t forget your potion before midnight,” he added and left the bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Strangely, the Dark Lord had little time for him. There was much activity happening as updated news of Harry Potter had surfaced, sending the Death Eaters flying in every direction to attempt to second guess where he could be headed. The Dark Lord had taken the potion Snape had given him, eyed it suspiciously, smelled it, and then finally after ascertaining that Snape, one of his more trusted soldiers, was not attempting to poison him, drank it down. He asked briefly if all was going well with the “Vessel.” Snape replied that there were no problems, and he was dismissed.

He began to offer his assistance in the hunt for Potter, but was told that for now his attention was needed elsewhere, and if and when he was required, he would be summoned. Snape bowed after the short exchange and left the petulant wizard to his private schemes.

Before departing the old orphanage, Snape remembered that Davindra had requested food be brought back. He stopped to think where he could acquire supplies at that time of night. Snape wouldn’t dare set foot in a traditional wizard market. He was wanted for murder. A Muggle market might be safer, but he had no Muggle money and actually very little wizarding money either. He wondered if there was enough food in the orphanage kitchen to supply them for a few days if no one noticed or cared about its absence.

As with many old buildings, the kitchen and food preparation area was in the basement. It was hardly more than a cave, dark and damp with bare necessities for basic survival. A Death Eater sat at the rough wood table, face down and a bottle of Firewhisky still in his hand. Loud snores disguised Snape’s pilfering through the cupboards and shelves. There was hardly more there than at the Collins home.

While trying to decide if swiping a few cans and a stale loaf of bread was worthwhile, Snape’s eyes fell on a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed into the corner. A sudden curiosity at what could be happening in the free world made him reach for the paper and smooth it out. Standing near the dying fire and flickering candle stub, his eyes roved over the articles and jumping pictures from the week-old paper.

“Diagon Alley Businesses Suffer from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s Return.” “Incidences of Muggle Obliviation on the Rise.” “Two Death Eaters Captured After Attack on Prominent Wizard’s Home.” “700 Year Old Bridge Destroyed in Battle with Dark Lord Supporters.” The headlines continued with the outstanding theme of war and suffering. Though the bottom corner held a mildly interesting piece. “Severus Snape Still Sought for Murder of Hogwarts' Headmaster.” An old staff picture of him standing next to Dumbledore was positioned near the short article. In it, the two dimensional Snape stood next to the smiling old wizard, looking bored and slightly insidious, even by his own standards.

“The hunt continues for the former Potions master and accused Death Eater, Severus Snape, for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Few solid reports of his whereabouts have surfaced since his disappearance after Dumbledore’s murder at Hogwarts on June 10th of this year. Wolfram Warbritton, Auror and Chief Investigator of the Criminal Interrogation Squad, said that several new leads have given them positive direction in which to look for Snape. “We feel certain that we will apprehend the culprit any day now. We are only steps behind,” Warbritton said. A thousand Galleon reward is being offered to anyone supplying information to the authorities, which would lead to the capture and prosecution of Severus Snape. [See relating article on page 3]”

Snape gave a snort after he finished skimming the article. Yes, they were only steps behind him, he mused. They hadn’t a clue and they knew it. But the rag did reinforce the knowledge that Snape was as good as dead if he so much as showed his face in daylight. He again wondered why he didn’t just jump after Dumbledore’s body from the tower that night. And he cursed the old wizard for leaving him all alone to face such a disastrous fate.

On the third page Snape spied a small article with a familiar picture attached to the headline. A smiling, raven-haired young woman pushed her bangs from her eyes and widened her grin as though in recognition of the man staring at her. “Missing Kent Teen Feared in Captivity of Dark Supporters.”

“Davindra Collins, age 18 of Dover, Kent, has been reported missing and assumed kidnapped since June 13th of this year. She was last seen disembarking from the Hogwarts Express after her last year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is believed that Collins was apprehended by her paternal grandmother, Madame Demelza Collins, a suspected Dark supporter. Attempts to locate Mdm. Collins and her un-plottable residence have been unsuccessful. The girl’s family says they have very strong suspicions that Collins is being held against her will and in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. “We now believe that Demelza Collins had sinister plans in place for Davindra for some time,” said Mrs. Lillyth Sparrow, maternal grandmother to the missing girl and spokesperson for the family. “We also think that Davindra could be forced into association with suspected murderer and Death Eater, Severus Snape, as Demelza herself had a close connection with that evil man. We beg and plead anyone who may have any information or may have seen anything, to please contact the authorities.” Aurors and investigators from the Missing Wizards Unit have been working diligently to locate Collins and believe they are very close to tracking the location of Mdm Collins’s residence, situated somewhere north of Norwich.”

Snape stopped reading and looked at the picture of Davindra, still smiling and looking for all the world like she was completely unworried and pleased with her life. Unbeknownst to everyone else, she was actually far happier with him than she might be elsewhere, even though her life was in grave danger. But if wizard authorities had narrowed Madame Collins’s home down to north of Norwich, then they actually were not far from discovering its true location and their most wanted fugitive. It was too close for comfort for Snape. A hundred different plans swirled around his head at once.

He Apparated in an eddy of black at the stone house. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at Davindra’s bedroom where she remained curled under the covers where he had left her. She sat up and stared at him with wide-eyed surprise at his abrupt entrance.

“Get up and pack a bag,” he ordered, then turned to leave.

“What? Why? What’s going on?” she demanded as she began to climb out of bed, still shaking sleep from her head.

“It’s not safe to stay here anymore. They’re looking for you, the Ministry, your family. You made the Daily Prophet even,” he said tossing the paper from under his arm onto the bed.

Davindra unfolded the paper and quickly scanned the article.

“Well, you can hardly blame them. They haven’t heard from me since before I left school,” she replied. “It’s not surprising that they’re worried. If I just sent them a message that I was alright, that Grandmother was dead even, that would probably pacify them.”

“It is far too risky to contact anyone,” Snape commented. “One owl from here would be like handing the authorities a map to our location. And if they find us, I will be sent straight to Azkaban, if I’m even left alive, and you will be no more safe from the Dark Lord’s plans.”

She looked crestfallen but convinced at his argument.

“Now, get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he again ordered and left the room.

Out in the dark garden, Snape stood looking into the star-filled northwestern sky. One of his last conversations with Dumbledore replayed in his head.

“You’ll need to wait a while, Severus. I don’t know for how long. We’ll have to just trust Dippet. Though once Fawkes is dispatched, the Order will know the truth. Our conjoined Patronuses will be the signal of a valid message. But use it wisely and sparingly.”

‘I hope to hell the old man knew what he was talking about,’ Snape thought. ‘If not, I’m handing us both over to a death sentence.’

Pointing his wand into the midnight sky, Snape spoke the words “Nuntius Patronum!” A wispy form shot forth and swirled around until it fell into the shape of a phoenix with out-stretched wings, followed by a coiled serpent.

The message was short and to the point. “I have the Vessel. Request a meeting and secured confidence.” There was no point in explaining anything more. If they knew the truth, then they didn’t need any more. If they did not, then it would be best to give them no more. The glimmering, hazy bird swept the serpent into its mouth.

“Transporto Patronum!” And the vision set off into the night.

A half hour was all he was willing to wait, he had decided. With the last shimmer of the phoenix’s tail swallowed up by the inky darkness, Snape turned back toward the house to gather some necessities and to watch the clock, their fate less sure with every silent slip of the minute hand towards an undetermined destiny.

--------------------------------------------

In Rome, a wild rose would be placed on the door of a room where secret or confidential matters were discussed. The phrase sub rosa, or "under the rose," means to keep a secret, derived from this ancient Roman practice. --Wikipedia.org

BTW, Daphne IS the name of my poodle! Homage to my Daphne-dawg!

Madame Potion: Chapter Eighteen

2007-06-24T02:11:46Z

Year Eight: Cut Loose the Fire

When the world stopped spinning and Snape’s feet found solid ground, he knew his battle was only half over. But there would be no rest yet. There were still services to be rendered and groveling to be done. Pressing forward at least kept him from mulling over the events that he had just witnessed.

A searing pain suddenly caught his attention, and Snape reached over his shoulder to feel the split in his cloak and jacket that went through to the torn flesh beneath.

“Bloody, fucking hippogriff,” Snape snarled to himself as he also inspected his shredded and bleeding forearm.

A whimper at his feet distracted his self consumed search. Draco Malfoy sat on his knees, panting and whining like a frightened animal.

“I can’t believe you did it,” he blathered. “I can’t believe it. And I failed! Oh, God, I failed.”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Snape snapped at him impatiently as he looked about for other Death Eaters returning from Hogwarts. “We have to report to the Dark Lord and take whatever praise or punishment there is to be had. Best get it over with.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” the boy continued to whine in tears.

“Not an option, Malfoy.” Snape grabbed Draco by the scruff of the collar and hauled him to his feet.

“I can hide, I can run away,” the boy rambled hysterically. “Take me some place he can’t find me!”

“There is no such place,” Snape spat as he shook Draco violently to help establish reason back into his traumatized brain. “And if you were to flee and find safety for yourself, that would just leave your mother to accept the Dark Lord’s vengeance on your behalf. Do you really wish to be an orphan as well as a coward?”

The threat of retaliation on his last family member seemed to do the trick. Draco’s pale eyes slowed their frightened scanning, and his body calmed its hyperactive twitching. He seemed to sink down into himself despondently. Pulling himself free of Snape’s grasp, he straightened his robes the best he could and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

“Alright,” he said in an empty, hollow voice. “Let’s go.”

Inside the old orphanage, the usually silent building seemed alive with activity. Already celebrations had broke out. The Death Eaters who had returned ahead of Snape were quick to spread the news of the success of the battle. But the only person who could truly pronounce the night a victory was yet to be addressed.

Ignoring the loud conversations and offers of liquor, Snape and Draco moved on to the room occupied by the Dark Lord in the dark recesses of the building. Before they even set foot on the threshold, the door silently swung inward and a smooth voice beckoned them to enter.

It took a firm shove from Snape to move Draco into the room. Another reminder that his place was on his knees was issued once they were at the feet of their master.

“The task has been completed, my lord,” Snape spoke with his nose pressed to the dank, dusty floorboards.

“I know,” came the dangerously silky words of the dark wizard. “Everyone seems quite pleased with themselves.”

Snape and Draco remained silent, wondering what consequences their master would invoke upon them.

“The one person who has been the biggest obstacle in my success since my youth is now gone,” he finally spoke.

Again he fell silent, and the bowing pair were forced to listen to nothing but their own nervous breaths while they awaited his words.

“Have we displeased you, my lord?” Snape dared from his submissive crouch. “All of our orders were accomplished. Potter was left unharmed.”

The silence continued to hang about them, but the Dark Lord finally moved from his chair and came to stand in front of them. Snape could see the bare, dirty feet with their long, talon-like toenails without raising his head.

“My expectations have not been exceeded.” His reply was void of emotion. “Young Malfoy was predictably inadequate in his endeavors, and my faithful servant, Snape, was predictably over-exuberant in his zeal to prove himself worthy of my favor. However, the job is done; for that Lord Voldemort cannot express disappointment. But the manner in which it was executed and the time in which it took to happen is all very unsatisfying.”

The feet moved on, and Snape couldn’t help but feel a held breath escape his body, though he knew the reprimand was far from over. Beside him, he could feel Draco’s body quiver under his robes.

“I will say I am slightly impressed that Young Malfoy even made it out of Hogwarts alive,” the Dark Lord spoke more strongly. “I suppose I should give credit where credit is due. But our war is far from over. This battle has been conquered, but the fight has only begun. Right now Dumbledore’s legions are weak and confused without their leader. It will take them a while to reorganize their ranks and create a new plan of defense. But we won’t have much time to celebrate our victories. We must continue to strike and strike hard until they are all beaten down and our path is unobstructed. Soon will be the time for Lord Voldemort to finally have Harry Potter at my mercy. Now go and tend to your injuries, and leave me to enjoy this sparse moment of vindication,” he concluded going back to his chair by the empty fireplace.

Snape and Draco backed from the room, and when the door had closed before them, they exchanged looks of relieved surprise. The Dark Lord was taking the news of their success much less enthusiastically than even they had anticipated. Wild rejoicing or bitter scorn had been expected. Perhaps even both delivered at once.

‘Could it be that somewhere in that corpse-like body beats a withered heart that aches slightly to know that the man responsible for who he is has finally left this world to thwart him no more?’ Snape wondered silently.

By the time the pair had made their way back to the main floor, they were intercepted by a nearly hysterical Narcissa Malfoy with her sister trailing behind with unexcited interest.

“Draco!” she shouted, her voice sounded piercing even amongst all the celebratory noise.

She flung herself at her son and grasped him as though he might try to get away. But the boy allowed himself to be hugged and sobbed upon with no words of admonishment nor attempts to escape.

“Mother, I’m alright,” he murmured as he attempted to return soothing assurance.

Snape hated to be witness to such extreme displays of emotion and started to move away and perhaps finally tend to the lacerations that were beginning to ache down to his bones. But he hadn’t moved a step when Narcissa seized him after letting go of Draco.

“You did it,” she said with grateful passion. “You kept your word. My son is safe.” Her lovely, pale eyes looked up at him with damp adoration, and he feared she might attempt to smother him with the same affections as she had Draco.

“Of course I did,” he replied. “It was not only your Vow I was bound to, but also service to my master and his grand plans.”

“But I am still so grateful,” she continued. “You took such a dangerous chance taking the Vow. If Lucius could know of all that you’ve done, he’d have no way to even begin to repay his gratitude.”

She gripped his arm too forcefully and caused him to flinch from the pain. Narcissa then noticed the blood beneath her fingers.

“Oh, you’re hurt, Severus! Let me heal you,” she insisted, taking her wand from her robe.

“No, you spend your time with Draco.” Bellatrix Lestrange finally stepped from behind her sister and took hold of Snape’s uninjured arm and began pulling him away. “I’ll take care of our hero.” There was a dark, lascivious sparkle to her eyes as she raked them over him in a hungry fashion.

“I can take care of my own wounds, Bellatrix,” Snape said, though he didn’t struggle against her firm hand as she continued to lead him down a darkened hall to a quiet, empty room.

“I can do a better job,” she stated in a husky drawl, “at reaching places that you cannot.”

Inside what had once been one of many dormitory style rooms, Bellatrix flicked her wand and brought a soothing, warm light to the peeling, dirty walls. The gentle shadows fell against the angular lines of her face, making her appear as beautiful as she had in the days before she had known Azkaban. Snape knew it was an illusion made from gentle light and clever charms.

Bellatrix began pulling Snape’s cloak from his shoulders and examining the slash across his back.

“Slashing hex?” she asked curiously.

“Hippogriff.”

She laughed boldly and came around to begin unbuttoning his jacket.

“I can undress myself,” he said coolly, though he found himself not pushing her hands away.

“Of course you can.” She smiled rakishly. “But are my hands so foul that you cannot bear to have them even heal your flesh?”

She continued her task, and Snape found his eyes going to the long, sleek black hair that lay over her strong shoulders. It looked so much like Davindra’s.

‘No! That’s over and done. You’ll think of it no more,’ he chastised himself.

His coat removed and in a heap on the floor, Bellatrix’s hands next began pulling the thin, once white shirt from his trousers and over his head.

He knew what she was doing, but he felt numb to it. Numb and ambivalent. If she fucked him or killed him, he cared not and would do little to stop either.

Her cool hands on his chest made him shiver. For a moment she stared into his fathomless, black eyes and seemed to lean in as though to kiss him. But she stopped and seductively pulled away and began an examination of the long gash to his forearm.

A mellow, low rush of words bubbled from her lips as she drew her wand over the wound. After just two passes, a scar wasn’t even visible.

“Perhaps you missed your calling as a healer, Bellatrix,” Snape quipped with less vigor than he hoped. ‘Would Davindra go on to be a healer as she had always wanted? Stop it!’

She gave a hearty chuckle as she vanished the blood stains and moved on to this back, her fingers trailing up and down his body in an almost ticklish fashion.

“I never had the patience for book learning, as you did,” she replied. “I wanted to get out and do and feel and experience everything. So we are both clever and talented in our own ways.”

Snape could feel her breath against his back as she again spoke the counter curse that knitted his flesh back as whole. The pain had finally gone, but an empty, exhaustive ache still coursed through his body, which had nothing to do with physical injuries.

Bellatrix again came around to stand in front of him, her body pressed against his, her hands trailing down his chest in a whisper-like touch.

“What was it like?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes burning into him intensely. “What was it like to take down Albus Dumbledore? How does it feel to know that you have the gratitude and admiration of our dark master?”

The sound of his name brought a new sensation of queasiness to Snape’s gut.

“I’m not surprised to find that death turns you on,” he said dryly.

She smiled wickedly. “Not death, power. The ultimate aphrodisiac. Better than any potion or curse.”

Her hand continued its downward descent until it came to rest between his legs. Firmly she cupped his flaccid penis with rhythmic squeezes. Attempting to keep the look of distaste from his face, Snape held her gaze and forced his mind to empty of the disturbing issues that writhed about inside.

“Not interested in me?” she asked in regard to the softness she still felt. “I would think you would enjoy such a reward, especially after all the years of verbal foreplay we engaged in. Can you honestly say that you do not desire me even now?”

Snape gave a wry smirk. “You demand a lot from a man. I single-handedly take down the most powerful wizard of the age, and you expect instant sexual fervor.”

Bellatrix rubbed her body against him. She radiated a suffocating heat that made him uncomfortably warm. He gripped her arms in an attempt to keep her from smothering him.

“If it were me, I would feel so alive and ecstatic after such an accomplishment I would need to find something to do with all the energy,” she said with a smile, her hand not giving up on its tasks.

“Well, forgive me if I’m not a ball of energy right now,” he replied. “I don’t quite have your morbid fascination to invigorate me.”

“Oh, is this Severus Snape suffering from remorse?” she chided.

“This is me suffering from fatigue,” Snape quickly corrected.

“I can assure you I work better than a Pepper-up Potion or a Calming Daft.” Her lips brushed his ear. “Let me give you what you have earned and deserve.”

Snape found himself backed against the wall and her hand inside his trousers, her nails scraping against his sensitive flesh as she roughly fondled him. Her lips and free hand moved down his bare chest until she was kneeling in front of him, taking him into her mouth.

‘I have got to find a way to get through this,’ Snape told himself. ‘Think of anything! Think of anyone, even HER, if you have to. Just perform and get it over with.’

If he stared down at the smooth black hair and squinted his eyes just a bit, it could be Davindra. Though the mouth was harsher and quicker but exceptionally skillful. If he focused, he could take himself away from the bare, filthy room and the harsh woman before him to the quiet comfort of his Hogwarts chambers and the intoxicating memories of a sweet, innocent touch that could make him burn with need and desire.

He felt the coiled tension build in his groin and thought it would soon be over. But Bellatrix stopped and rose from her knees to quickly begin disrobing. Before Snape could ask what she was doing, she had pushed him onto a nearby bed that issued a cloud of ancient dust and nearly gave way under their weight.

Immediately, Bellatrix climbed onto his recumbent body. Her once firm, voluptuous form had withered away to look slack and wasted during her time in prison. But the feel of her heat engulfing him shut off his mental critique. He gasped loudly and she followed with a throaty groan.

Snape gripped her hips and allowed his mind to accept the pleasure his body felt, closing his eyes to block out the vision of her bucking and grinding on top of him. Each and every thrust dove him deeper into her body until he began to believed he would be consumed by her and the lust they enacted. Again he reached his peak, and this time she allowed him to come. If the circumstances had been different, Snape would have considered it an especially satisfying shag. But directly after he felt the last spasm course through his body, his thoughts reminded him of the reality in which he was existing.

Bellatrix took another minute to complete her own orgasm. By the look on her face, she was no more focused on the man beneath her than he had been on her. Snape wondered who had been the object of her fantasy. Perhaps the Dark Lord himself. Mercifully it was over, and she sat still, her head rolling forward and her cascade of dark hair brushing against his chest.

‘That hair. So much like hers.’ Snape couldn’t stop himself from stroking the silky strands between his fingers. His reverie was broken when Bellatrix flung her head up and the hair revealed the true face underneath.

“I feel much better,” she sighed. “How about you?”

“No worse,” he murmured.

That earned him a narrowed look of scorn as Bellatrix rose from his body and began gathering her clothes.

“I would like to know when you would have had better,” she commented in the cutting tone Snape was more familiar with hearing from her.

“I’m sure you would, but it would actually be none of your business,” he replied as he reached for his wand to cast a cleansing charm.

The haughty witch fastened the rest of her clothing while giving him a lethal glare.

“Your gratitude is overwhelming,” she hissed sarcastically. “Let me assure you that pity fucks are not my normal forte.”

“I’m sure,” Snape said casually as he attempted to repair his torn and bloody shirt. “But if you ever find yourself in the need of one again, I’m sure I could be persuaded to assist.” He allowed a cold, little smile to touch his lips as he gave her a look of contempt and mocking.

Bellatrix’s lip curled in furious disgust. “Not if you were the last wizard on the planet.”

The door flew open, and she started to charge through it when Snape again spoke.

“Oh, Bellatrix, thank you for the healing.”

He kept the contemptuous smirk on his face until she had delivered her last deadly look and her quick, snapping footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Only then did Snape allow himself to fall back onto the sagging mattress and his mind to completely collapse in a crashing, swirling, black chaos into which he sunk like a stone until exhaustion finally quieted his body and brain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape woke sometime the next day with disappointment that he had not expired in his sleep. It appeared to be an annoyingly bright and warm day, judging by the intense sunlight that filtered through the dirty and broken windows of the old orphanage. His first movements inspired achy, stiff pains in every part of his body. Sitting up took a great deal of time, and when Snape’s feet were finally on the floor, he found he had to rest his head in his hands to stop the room from spinning.

After finding the rest of his clothes, he dressed and emerged from the room to a mostly quiet building with only a few Death Eaters passing through. Snape made his way once again to the Dark Lord’s door and patiently awaited entrance. Soon his presence was sensed and he was beckoned to enter.

“Ah, Severus,” the master spoke from a spot near an open window. “I see you have recovered from last night’s celebration.”

Snape stayed down on the floor until he was commanded to rise. “What is my lord’s bidding?” Snape asked as he brushed dust from his sleeves. “How may I serve you now that Dumbledore is no longer an issue?”

“The list is too long to even begin reciting,” he replied with a dramatic sweep of his claw-like hand. “But Harry Potter and the Order will remain our primary focus until they meet the same end as our beloved Headmaster.”

The dark wizard seemed in higher spirits than the night before, and Snape felt thankful.

“I think we can assume that your days as a double spy for the Order are now over.” There was a slightly mean smirk on the serpent-like wizard’s face. “So you will have to be given a new assignment.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“First, you will be working with the others to pinpoint where the Order’s hideouts are. I expect you to be very forthright with all you know.” There was a sharp, hard glance given with those words. “But also you will be assisting in one of my greatest creations that will assure Lord Voldemort’s immortality.” He finished with an evil smile.

“And what may I be doing specifically for you, my lord?” Snape asked, trying to hide his intense curiosity.

“A bit of patience, my eager soldier,” he replied with a slight chuckle. “All in good time. The Vessel is not quite ready for my use, nor I for it. But soon.”

“There were rumors about a new weapon, my lord,” Snape interrupted hopefully. His curiosity about this “Vessel” got the best of him. “May I beg some bit of information about what the Vessel is or how it works so I may better assist you?”

His query was met with an annoyed squint, and Snape braced himself for any form of admonishment.

“Soon,” the Dark Lord spoke more firmly. “In the mean time, you are to go to Payne Hollow. We must keep you hidden until the manhunt dies down a bit. It appears that you were seen, and there will no doubt be a hefty price on your head.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Snape said remorsefully. “There was no one on the Tower besides Draco, myself, the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore. I was certain.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you weren’t seen,” the Dark Lord hissed angrily. “Now go.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Payne Hollow was a dismal place even before it became a deserted village of dilapidated buildings and crumbling stone walls situated only a few miles from jagged cliffs looming over raging ocean waters. The old manor was more drafty and damp than even Spinner’s End. But unlike Snape’s home, it was once a worthy residence of some refinement. Water stained oak paneling and mildewed velvet tapestry harkened back to a time when people of leisure earned their money off the backs of the peasants who slaved away their lives in the shipping yards.

After a few weeks, Snape stopped noticing the biting northern wind that swept through the place even though the heat of summer had settled over most all of England. Perpetual winter lashed at Payne Hollow. It seemed that time altogether had forgotten that rough, cursed bit of land. Cold was something Snape grew accustomed to. It was deep inside him as well as all around. Empty, barren, and frigid were the qualities of his being now that he had taken Dumbledore’s life, fled Hogwarts, and begun his appointment as a full time Death Eater.

Every day he wondered if anyone at the Order knew the truth. Had the phoenix delivered the message? Had Dippet dispatched him? Would anyone even believe it anyway?

Snape was left to command a small troop of rabble-rousers who did little more than nightly raids and plundering. The only accomplishment came from annoying the Order and confusing the Muggles. Mostly it was to keep Snape busy and out of the way. He felt useless and exiled. For weeks he sat amongst the ruins of the manor, never called on by his master, and sending out reports that all sounded the same. “Attack on latest target successful. No survivors. No captives. No new information attained.”

What little news Snape learned of the outside world was only derived from the Death Eaters who served under him. They at least got to travel about the country freely, hearing of everything that happened. Though the Ministry now fully supported the resistance against the Dark Lord, it operated from a position of inefficient chaos. The new, more forceful leadership that had taken over for Fudge and his disciples last year appeared no more effective in fighting against the rising menace. The wizarding population screamed for more action and protection while the Ministry only tossed out propaganda that insisted everything was well in hand.

Harry Potter and the Order had gone to ground to fight in a stealthy, secretive manner that often left the Dark Lord howling in embarrassed fury, though the official word was just as rose-colored for followers of the nefarious leader as anything the Ministry of Magic could produce. Everyone was lead to believe that their own side was far ahead when in reality, there was a neck and neck battle being waged nearly every hour of every day.

On a rare morning when the sun dared to creep over the damp, wind battered grounds of Payne Hollow, a visitor came to call. Snape stood looking over maps of suspected Order strongholds when the closest thing he had to a house-elf interrupted him. Guntly was a Death Eater flunky who was too incompetent to promote and too insignificant to bother disposing of. He reminded Snape far too much of Wormtail without the explicit rat-like physicality.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Guntly’s annoying voice broke into Snape’s thoughts. “You have a visitor.”

Figuring it was another dark soldier with another useless report, Snape muttered for him to be sent in without bothering to raise his eyes from the map beneath him.

Guntly didn’t move to follow the order. But Snape could detect his nervous shuffling about.

“Well?” he prompted irritably.

“It’s a young lady, sir. I tried to get rid of her. I don’t know how she found us or got past all the concealment charms. But she says she knows you’re here and won’t leave until she either sees you or is killed.” Guntly’s round eyes bugged out at Snape with nervous hope that he wouldn’t be slain for being the messenger.

Snape’s first thought was, ‘Well, kill her then,’ when it finally dawned on him which young lady would bother tracking him to the desolation of northern England and announce that she’d seek death before she gave up her venture. Amazement, dread, fury, and another emotion that verged on pitiful hope converged upon him.

“Fine,” he said with no flicker of concern or recognition. “Send her in.”

He had only seconds to steel his composure for facing her. Then she walked in. Proud and strong. The most beautiful thing he could have ever been rewarded with seeing. Davindra was dressed in full witches robes of deep, dark colors of burgundy, black, and green. Her sleek, obsidian hair hung lose about her shoulders. Familiar, pale jade eyes peered from a refined alabaster face. She stopped not far into the room to stare at him with blank serenity.

“Well, well, Miss Collins,” Snape said in a smooth voice he reserved for his most vexing students. “You’re as tenacious as a niffler. I really must stop underestimating you.”

“And I you,” she replied with no break in her placid expression.

“How did you find me?” he asked as he moved from the safety of the far side of the table to stand in the open floor space.

“Is that important?”

“Quite. For if the Dark Lord realized that my refuge had been compromised, he would be greatly displeased. So I need to know how you managed to track me to an unplottable, concealed location in the middle of nowhere.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised,” Davindra said with the barest hint of a smile. “You’re the one who bound us.”

A few moments silence reined as Snape mentally kicked himself for forgetting that he had fled with their connection still in tact. It would be he who would suffer if the Dark Lord ever knew.

“How long have you known?” he asked, matching her calm.

“Since not long after you gave me the amulet.”

He nodded slightly and strode to stand directly in front of her. Their eyes stayed locked on one another as Snape reached his hand down into the scooped neckline of her robe, his fingers aching to savor the flesh he rushed past. Instead he quickly grabbed the beryl green amulet, snapping the delicate silver chain with a quick jerk. A faint wisp of breath hitched in Davindra’s throat when the frail links gave way under the pressure. With hardly a glance to the crystal, he pocketed it.

“That was careless of me,” he spoke. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Snape turned and again put the width of the room between them. “So, to what honor do I owe such effort and energy? For even with the assistance of the binding amulet, your task was not a simple one. You can’t have gone to the trouble of finding me just to give an update on your Imperius Curse research.”

“Hardly. They closed Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s funeral. No one has decided what to do about the N.E.W.T. students or exams.”

“How disappointing for you,” Snape interjected with sarcastic disinterest. “So why are you here?”

She didn’t respond, and Snape intensified his bleak, cold stare to coax an answer.

“So I could tell you to your face that I know you’re a liar,” she finally stated with resounding certainty.

A mirthless chuckle escaped him. “Really now? And what, pray tell, brought you to this stunning realization?” Snape sat himself in an uncomfortable and rickety chair to hear her citation.

“Oh, I’m not talking about your dual role as spy and traitor,” she said with more animation. “This has to do with your parting words to me.”

“And what about their meaning confused you?” Snape asked with a condescending sneer as he hooked his arm around the back of the chair languidly. “For I thought I was quite clear in my delivery.”

“It was a very good performance! Quite convincing,” Davindra said with enthusiasm as she began a slow walk closer toward him. “I even believed it for a while. I had the fat lip and bruised face as proof for many days afterward. But then, after I stopped crying and feeling sorry for myself, I started thinking.”

“Always a dangerous endeavor where you are concerned,” Snape muttered as he watched her approach, then circle his chair.

A soft snort of laughter sounded from somewhere behind him where she stood looking out a thick-paned window. “Ah, but this time it did me a world of good. Because I started seeing how none of it made sense. The things they say you did and the plans you orchestrated just did not coincide to the man I have known for seven years.”

Quickly she turned to lean over his shoulder to add, “And before you insist that you spent all that time carefully constructing your lie to me, remember how well and how intimately I have known you, Severus.”

Snape examined his fingernails with bored concentration. “Once again you are confusing sex with love. I never said I loved you, Miss Collins. I never invited you into any of my confidences. You were of use to me. You were a service I indulged in. If you’ve come looking for an apology for striking you, then I can construct one. Otherwise you’ve come a long way for no reason.”

“You did all of that for their benefit,” Davindra said, coming around to finally face him in an uncomfortably close, dominant stance. “You actually did it to protect me. You couldn’t very well let anyone know that you were leaving behind someone of any importance to you. As it was, I got a fair amount of questioning from McGonagall. I simply told her I had tried to stop you from leaving. She was too busy planning the funeral and the school closing to investigate further.”

So she did know him. Far better than he even knew himself. He had felt confident that his actions, the cruel words, and the murder, would have forever turned her from him and convinced her it had all been a meaningless affair and him unworthy of her affections.

Snape rose from his seat to stand toe to toe with her. His pitiless black eyes burrowed into her.

“You’re very clever still, Miss Collins,” he spoke smoothly, his eyes unable to keep from descending to her lips. “However, you are also still prone to romantic fantasies that have no bearing in reality. Though as discerning as your little visit is, I cannot say that you have ceased to be a vision to behold.”

Snape stroked a long section of her hair that fell in front of her shoulder and ended above her breast. He could feel a tremble move through her body at his touch, and her eyes immediately melted from icy spheres to molten pools.

“The nights here are very cold, boring, and lonely,” he continued in a low, silky voice. “It would be a shame for you to have made this trip for nothing.”

The tips of his fingers lightly stroked the warm, soft flesh of her collar bone and chest. Both of their breaths quickened when he traced across the gentle slope of her breast.

At that moment Snape would have given his wand to have her. To say that the nights were cold and lonely was an tragic underestimation. They were inhuman exercises in bitter anguish that froze the blood in his veins and nearly drove him past the edges of sanity. To have her once more, to feel her warmth and affection, to satiate his need just once more, would surely get him past the empty, bitter feelings of hopelessness that haunted him continually in that desolate God forsaken place.

She was about to melt against him. Snape felt her breath brush his cheek and had moved in to taste her lips. Poised with such an open expression of surrender to him, he was certain she would grant his wish. But before the breach was closed and they could delve into each other, Davindra suddenly lunged forward with a gasp as though she had been stabbed in the back.

Snape grabbed her arms to steady her. For a fraction of moment, she stayed draped upon him, her hand clutching the small of her back.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Just as quickly, Davindra stood on her own again and moved away from him. Her face was suddenly much paler and her voice shaky.

“I have to go,” she said and turned to leave.

“What just happened, Davindra?” he demanded, reaching for her arm to stop her.

Looking straight into his eyes, she spoke firmly. “I have to go, Severus. Grandmother is waiting for me.”

“She knows you’re here?” he asked with some surprise.

“Yes.”

“So I take it you two have patched things up,” he announced with a bitter edge as he released her arm.

Davindra looked at him for a moment before she answered. “Let’s just say we’ve come to an understanding.” There was veiled apprehension and sadness in her eyes that called out for recognition.

But she turned away before Snape could cast himself into her mind and made her way to the door, the strange spasm that had so viciously attacked her long over and forgotten.

“Davindra,” Snape spoke. “Don’t ever come here again.” ‘For I could never allow you to leave if you did.’

She shook her head. “No, I won’t. But this is not our last, Severus. You’ll see me again.”

With a wistful smile she exited the room, and her footsteps died away in the empty bowels of the manor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night Snape sat in the room he had taken as his sleeping chambers and listened to the wind howl against the windows. The room was dark except for a lone candle that cast deep, distorted shadows about the walls and corners. He didn’t move for hours. One might have thought he had died where he sat and never closed his eyes for how still his body was.

Death would have been preferable to Snape. Instead he sat endlessly reliving those few minutes with Davindra over and over. Each word was examined. Every move she made was scrutinized. The precious seconds of physical contact were an ocean he submerged himself in with hopes of never surfacing. The empty silence that surrounded him was painful in its weight. The loneliness was unbearable. Yet if anyone had dared interrupt his mental reminiscing, he would have hexed them into dust. If he couldn’t have her, he wanted to at least wallow in her memory undisturbed.

He knew he should be loathing himself for allowing a brief encounter to completely crumple his resolve to no longer be associated with her. It was just the stress of being so isolated, he reasoned. And thankfully, there was no one to witness his relapse or judge his weaknesses but him.

So, Snape allowed himself this mind flight to an alternate universe where she would walk through his door, perhaps wearing the night shirt she had given him for Christmas, as she had done a few times before. Her smile would be warm and her eyes like magnetic beacons drawing him in. Long, thin legs would elegantly and silently carry her to him where she would curl herself into his lap, and cupping his face, drink in his lips with her hungry mouth and bring him to life.

He could see her. He could feel her. She might actually be there for all he knew. Reality or not, he didn’t wish to disturb the blissful image. He simply let it play out before him until a shallow satisfaction ebbed into a dreamless sleep.

The next day he woke to yet another meaningless, mindless day. But as he started the daily drudgery of dressing, his Dark Mark burned with a fury. It had been long enough since he had been summoned that the sudden pain took him by surprise.

Snape couldn’t tell which emotion was more prevalent -- fear at being called to face his master or excitement at the prospect of leaving Payne Hollow, even for only a day. Moments later he had Apparated at the old orphanage and made his way inside.

Almost immediately he was confronted by a smirking Bellatrix Lestrange who crept up against him with a cat-like scrape of her body.

“Bellatrix,” Snape greeted smoothly. “The entirety of the wizarding world died out already? I hadn’t heard.”

She gave a lusty laugh. “Not quite. Where have you been hiding yourself, Severus?”

“Nowhere special,” he said. “But under the Dark Lord’s orders, I have remained quite busy, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed. “Well, whatever you are doing, you must be doing it right, for the Dark Lord has been waiting for you in the old sanctuary with a surprise. It must be something quite interesting.” Her eyes flashed with mocking. “I wonder what it could be?”

Again she laughed but turned to walk down the hall and disappear out of sight. Snape sneered at her retreating form and continued on to the large empty room that was once a gathering and dining hall for the orphans.

Snape let himself in to the old room, sidestepping debris from the crumbling roof overhead. The high windows let in a vast amount of light, which illuminated the flurry of dust particles dancing in the air as the dark wizard did a slow pace about the room. Mostly, Snape had seen his master at night or in the shelter of a dark room. He hadn’t known that the man would ever do anything but shun the bright light of morning.

Snape quickly knelt down and addressed him.

“Rise, Severus,” the Dark Lord commanded enthusiastically. “It’s a most glorious day for revelations, is it not? I know your exile has been a difficult one, but Lord Voldemort is now prepared to reward your patience with something most exciting.”

“I am deeply grateful and eagerly await your command,” Snape replied as he watched the wizard pace in giant, slow circles.

“As you know, Harry Potter has been continuing Dumbledore’s quest to destroy my precious Horcruxes.” There was now a bitter tone to his voice. “Unfortunately he has been successful in obliterating over half of them. So I have had to resurrect an old plan that I had nearly forgotten about until after my return, when an old friend reminded me of the great power which lay at my disposal.”

A slight rustle to his right made Snape turn to see Madame Collins emerging from the dim shadows to smile at him triumphantly.

“Madame.” Snape addressed the smug looking witch with a snarl of contempt. “I am not at all surprised to find you lurking about the corners of this enterprise. You have my full attention, my lord,” he returned to the master before them both. “I have a feeling this will answer a lot of mysteries I’ve spent years attempting to understand.”

“Indeed it will,” Demelza interjected with a widened grin.

“If the Horcruxes had remained intact and I was able to unite them, I would have been a mere wizard. No more, no less human than the rest of the world,” the Dark Lord continued. “What I really need is a way to ensure immortality that no wizard can match. I had devised a way to do that some time ago, though I had not completely tested the plan. I did, however, prepare for its execution in case it was needed. And now it seems the need has arisen.”

“This is the Vessel you speak of?” Snape asked.

“It is indeed the Vessel,” he replied with a reptilian smile. “The blood of my heir and its mother combined in a powerful potion that will give me ultimate strength. Harry Potter’s meager sacrificial protection could not hope to match my own.”

“An heir,” Snape commented thoughtfully. “A most interesting strategy, my lord. And what lucky woman will have the honor and blessing of birthing the child of our most powerful master?”

The Dark Lord raised his wand and commanded a small door at the other end of the room to open. Well hidden in shadows, Snape could only see that a form stood on the other side, which began a slow emergence into the light. Even after the figure stepped into a bright pool of sun, Snape’s mind still didn’t wish to recognize what he saw before him and what it could mean.

Davindra stood with customary straight, calm composure. But unqualified misery radiated from her as she stared at Snape with what he assumed was a silent apology. He returned nothing but blank scrutiny.

“I hear you two are well acquainted,” the Dark Lord said as he walked around Davindra, eyeing her closely.

“Quite, my lord,” Snape answered in a casual tone that completely hid the effects of the shock and horror that burned in his chest like a hot poker. “Davindra Collins was one of my more talented students. She is, I’m sure, an excellent choice for you.”

“She was promised to Lord Voldemort at birth,” the dark wizard went on as he continued to examine the girl before him. “Madame Collins was generous enough to offer her when she heard I was researching such magic. I have not seen her in many years, but I have heard of her great promise as a witch and also of her clever charm and pleasing appearance. She is quite lovely, is she not, Severus?”

Snape narrowed his gaze back at Madame Collins with a silent threat clearly visible in the black depths of his eyes.

“Of course, my lord,” he answered.

“And I hear I have you to thank for her education and protection,” the Dark Lord continued.

Snape bowed his head slightly in reception of the compliment. “Had I known what I was truly guarding, I would have placed even greater value and enjoyment in my task.”

“Your enjoyment is hardly in question. Good thing I don’t need a virgin’s blood.” There was mocking, accusation, and contempt in the flippant comment.

Again, an eviscerating look was tossed to Madame Collins who smiled in what could only be construed as amusement over Snape’s embarrassing position.

“My lord, if I had known any of the details of Miss Collins’s fate or of Madame Collins’s plans, I can assure you I would have acted differently. As it were, I simply believed I was being paid and later blackmailed to tutor and watch over a bright, albeit capricious and conniving, young lady. Despite anything Madame Collins may have reported, if anyone was taken advantage of in this matter, it was I.”

“You dare to feign insult and abuse?” the Dark Lord hissed.

Snape lowered his eyes and prepared for any number of curses to be leveled at him. “Forgive me, my lord. But in regards to Madame Collins’s actions, I have indeed felt used and deceived.”

He took a quick glance at Davindra to see that she still stood as if rooted in her spot, but her eyes now rested on the ground, and a shameful flush tinted her cheeks.

“Your petty bickering is of no consequence now,” interrupted the dark wizard brutally, spitting his words like venom. “What’s done is done. We will move ahead with the plans, and there will be no more philandering nor secrets between the four of us.”

The Dark Lord moved back to Davindra and began a slow stroking of her hair. She stiffened slightly at his touch but did not move further. The repetitive movement seemed to sooth the agitated wizard, and Snape felt jealousy for the luxury of indulging in such a sedative at that time. He was forced to simply relive the familiar memory in his mind for any shred of comfort.

“Madame Collins assures me that she is working quite diligently on the potions,” their master continued. “However, we have hardly a month to prepare, and I have not seen even one simple fertility potion. Severus, you will take over the preparations. Madame Collins will turn over her notes and supplies to you forthwith.”

“What? My lord,” Madame Collins finally joined in. “I am nearly done with all of my preparations. For Severus to come in now would only set us back and confuse things! The fertility potions are not needed until the month before the coupling. I’ve told you that taking it for too long prior reverses its effects.”

“Silence!” the Dark Lord shouted, making his wand visible as a threat. “You will do as your master commands.”

Madame Collins glared violently at Snape, her chest rapidly rising and falling with furious breaths. It was his turn to smile with amusement.

“The coupling takes place on the new moon,” he continued. “If my instructions have been followed and all goes as planned, in nine months I will have my heir, and the life sacrifice can be made to create the final potion.”

“Life sacrifice?” Madame Collins again spoke. “Don’t you mean blood sacrifice, my lord?”

The dark wizard looked to the old witch and gave a nasty smile. “It is indeed a blood sacrifice, but I will need all of the blood. So in the end, it becomes a life sacrifice. And a most noble one, might I comment.”

Snape felt his own chest tighten and the blood in his veins turn to ice water. But he said nothing.

“Their lives?” The witch’s voice had risen to nearly shake the crumbling rafters overhead. “You are planning on killing my granddaughter and great-grandchild? You never told me this! If I had known…”

“You would have what?” the Dark Lord’s voice boomed over her. “You would have denied your master his immortality? You would have gone back on your promise?”

Snape could see the panic and horror in Madame Collins’s eyes. He looked to Davindra and saw equal fear.

“I would have done all I could for you, my lord. But not at the life of my children. There must be another way,” she insisted. “Severus and I together hold more knowledge of potions than any wizard library in existence. We, together, can find another way. Something that will not require so much blood, perhaps.”

She had moved closer to Snape as if to signify unity between them. But as much as Snape would do anything to save Davindra’s life, he didn’t wish to be brought down with the same curse that Madame Collins was fated to suffer if she continued her argument. As it was, he moved away from her minutely. Though his own mind began to think of ways to change Davindra’s fate.

“Insolence!” shouted the Dark Lord as he encroached on Madame Collins. “Insubordination, insurrection, mutiny. It is all around me. You wish me to disregard meticulous planning and diligence because you misunderstood my words eighteen years ago? The success of Lord Voldemort should be thwarted for the sentimentalities of a faithless, deceitful witch?”

“There has to be another way,” she insisted with both fear and obstinance.

“Crucio!” the Dark Lord commanded angrily.

The old woman withered to the ground in convulsions of agony. He let her stay under the curse for many long seconds.

Davindra gasped and attempted to rush forward. “No! Please…”

Snapped grabbed her arms and pulled her against him to stop her progress. “Don’t,” he whispered into her ear. “You’ll only make it worse.”

They were both forced to watch the Dark Lord inflicted the torture curse on Madame Collins in muted horror.

Finally he released the spell, but the witch hardly moved. Her heavy, labored breathing was the only thing indicating survival.

Davindra struggled to be free and run to the aid of her grandmother, but Snape held her firmly against him. It was wrong to take any pleasure in physical contact at such an inappropriate time, but being able to have his hands on her and exert some control over her made the situation much more bearable to Snape.

“You eagerly made your promise eighteen years ago,” the dark wizard snarled over Madame Collins’s crumpled body. “You didn’t even think to question the details of my plan. You were too busy looking for ways to ride my coat tail for success. Now you try to demand change? After the extravagant wealth of connections Lord Voldemort has afforded you? You are a foolish, greedy, ungrateful witch.”

Weakly, Madame Collins raised her head from the floor. Her face was an ashen gray, the whites of her eyes completely blood-filled. Even Snape was shocked at the damage she had incurred.

“You can’t take away the only thing that matters to me.” Her voice was nothing but a feeble rasp. “I did this all for her. I thought you wanted her.”

Snape felt Davindra sag at the words. He tightened his grip and let her body rest against him.

The Dark Lord barked a bitter laugh. “You thought I wanted a wife and child? How pathetically quaint and stupid. I have enough wretched, mewling pests clutching at my robes, demanding attention as it is. What I need is blood.” He straightened up and walked gracefully around the room again. “Now, you can cooperate and continue to share in the prosperity of Lord Voldemort’s reign or you can be disposed of and we will carry on without you. It matters little to me when I have Severus who surpasses your talent and demands no special favors.”

Madame Collins replied nothing but sank into nearly silent weeping.

The dark wizard came to Snape and extracted Davindra from his grip, as though suddenly realizing that his possession was in danger of being absconded.

“Please escort Madame Collins out, Severus, and see if you cannot put some reason into her. And if not, then take care that she troubles us no more.” The Dark Lord’s red eyes glided between Snape and the crumpled woman on the floor threateningly.

Snape knew immediately what he meant, and he also knew he had no choice but to obey.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Davindra and I will spend some time getting to know one another,” he continued in a more cheerful tone as he guided her away from Snape. “Come back tomorrow to discuss the plans for the potion and coupling.”

She looked back at Snape with intense pleading and fear in her eyes. ‘Don’t leave me,’ he knew she was silently screaming.

“I’ll return first thing tomorrow,” Snape answered to both the Dark Lord and her.

Reaching down, he attempted to haul Madame Collins upright, but found her to be almost completely dead weight. It took a great amount of strength to get her on her feet and lead her from the room.

No one appeared to them again before they escaped into the open, overgrown courtyard of the old orphanage. The sun was now being swallowed up by churning, dark storm clouds. Distant thunder echoed around them.

“No, wait,” Madame Collins croaked. “I have to rest.”

Thinking there was really no time for such luxuries, Snape begrudgingly found an old fallen tree that provided enough of a seat for the wilting woman. Though he did have to admit that dumping the uncooperative weight he had been carrying was a relief.

Snape looked around nervously in hopes of not being approached by other Death Eaters.

“You have to do something, Severus. You have to stop him,” Madame Collins spoke between wheezing breaths.

Snape turned to give her a flat look. “I believe I am no longer obliged to do your bidding.”

“You can’t stand there and tell me that you are willing to watch her die,” she replied desperately.

“It was not my foolishness that got her to this end,” Snape shot back.

“I know, it was mine! And I would accept the consequences dutifully if they were only mine to suffer. But she’s an innocent in all of this!”

“You should have thought of that long ago.”

“I know I was foolish, Severus. I loathe myself more completely than you ever could imagine. And he was right. I was greedy and impulsive. I saw a way to elevate my own standing and secure a place of importance for the one off-spring who I believed could actually be someone.” Madame Collins then broke into a fit of coughing that spewed flecks of blood into her hand and down her chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, stepping closer. “In the beginning, why didn’t you inform me of the plan?”

Madame Collins raised her once mesmerizing, now damaged eyes to him. “I wasn’t sure what side you were on. I know I said it didn’t matter, but in truth I was trying my damnedest to discover where your loyalties really lay. And I was never honestly sure until after I heard about Dumbledore. Even when Lucius Malfoy came to me to devise a plan to test you, I just could never be sure.”

“Lucky for Lucius Azkaban protects him,” Snape snarled to no one in particular. He then crossed his arms and glared down at her. “And if you are so sure of my loyalty now, why are you asking me to betray my master? I could kill you without so much as a warning for such treason.”

The old woman gave a pitiful laugh that quickly deteriorated into a hacking, retching sound. “Severus,” she managed in a weak, hoarse voice, “you’d be doing me a favor if you drew your wand on me at this point. But I ask you because I know that she means something to you. She always has. You’re standing there right now trying to think of a way out of this.”

Snape snorted a sound of contempt.

“It’s true. That girl would happily give her own life for yours if the situation were reversed. And you love her for it. Deep inside your devotion to her eclipses anything you feel for the Dark Lord.”

“There is nothing inside!” Snape turned and yelled at her, surprised at his own quick rage. “And I will not sacrifice myself for you, her, or anyone else.”

Madame Collins seemed to be fading instead of gaining strength from her rest. She listed to one side and seemed hardly able to raise her head.

“Back at my home are all the notes for the potions. You will find a way to make this process fail and keep Davindra alive,” she said with as much authority as her voice allowed. “I needn’t threaten or bribe you, Severus. Your heart will allow you no other choice.”

Before he could refute the charge, the sound of snapping twigs took his attention and he turned away to catch the sight of a squirrel dashing across the ground to get to another tree. Thunder sounded again, but closer. Fat, cold drops of rain began a relentless assault.

Taking in a sigh of relief, Snape then turned back to Madame Collins to tell her that they had to move on or suffer being soaked to the skin. His words froze on his tongue when he saw that her lifeless body had slumped to the ground.

Madame Potion: Chapter Seventeen

2007-06-10T20:37:29Z

Year Seven: Witness of Darkness and Doubt

It is time again to bestow special thanks upon my most talented and lovely betas, Logical Quirk and Southern Witch. Also I want to express how much I deeply appreciate my few, albeit loyal, fans who keep sticking with me. If you find yourself becoming a fan, please let me know. Post a review!

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Christmas morning dawned cold and blustery. Snape woke to find something pressing against his feet at the foot of the bed. Instinctively he kicked and sat up only to catch a glimpse of a brightly wrapped package going over the edge. He groaned and got up to retrieve whatever ridiculous thing McGonagall or Dumbledore had decided to get him this year. He had a stock of black socks, mufflers, and gloves that seemed to only get added to and never used.

Picking up the package, he could see a small card attached. “Merry Christmas, Love Davindra,” it read with a flourished curlicue. With mild curiosity and dread, he tore off the paper to reveal a new nightshirt. It was a dense, rich, creamy cotton with an embroidered “S” in green, silver, and black over the heart. When he unfolded the nightshirt something fell to the floor. It was a picture. Snape picked it up and saw that it was of Davindra. She was curled up in a wingback chair reading a book. The girl in the magical picture continued with her reading with little notice of the man looking at her, turning a page and swinging her foot. Then, she gave a look out of the corner of her eye, and a coquettish smile soon spread over her face. The photographic Davindra coyly pulled her skirt further up her thigh and continued to peruse the book in her hands with an expression of playful reserve.

Snape had no idea when or where the picture was taken, but it reminded him of the times she sat in the corner of his office while they both silently worked. Often the entire night would pass with hardly three or four sentences spoken, but the looks they exchanged could set stone ablaze. It was the best foreplay he could think of.

Surprisingly, the gifts made him smile. But then a guilty dread flooded him when he realized he had not gotten Davindra anything in return. Gifts were the last thing on his mind. She would be waking soon with a pile of presents from her family and nothing from him. How could she not be disappointed when she had put forth so much obvious effort for his own gifts?

“Fuck,” Snape muttered out loud as he wracked his brain for ideas at such a late date.

As he dressed, he thought. Mentally he took stock of everything in his possession and critiqued its worth. He realized that outside of books and potions supplies, he owned very little and even less of any real value. It being Christmas day, there would be no stores open. That was, if he even had a clue what he was looking for. He had never bought for a woman before besides his mother.

A idea suddenly occurred to him, and he hurriedly finished dressing, then grabbed his warmest cloak and headed for the gates of Hogwarts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late afternoon by the time Snape ventured out of his chambers again and began a search for Davindra. His trip back to Spinner’s End had taken little time and left him with most of the day to finish grading and work on lesson plans.

Not surprisingly, Snape found Davindra in the library, pawing through old books and writing notes.

He approached her, not sure if he would receive cold indifference in regards his absent Christmas present. But her usual warm smile appeared when she spotted him.

“Merry Christmas, Professor,” she said in a hushed but cheery tone.

A reply was on his lips, along with an entire speech about the generosity of her gifts and an explanation for the lateness of his own when he spied Madam Pince glowering at them from around a book shelf.

‘Gads, doesn’t she even take holidays off from books?’ he thought dourly. ‘Probably not, considering they’re the only things that can stand her company.’

Instead he quietly whispered for Davindra to take a walk with him. She happily agreed, taking only a scroll of parchment with her and leaving the pile of books scattered across the table. Madam Pince’s fury was evident, though she said nothing while she watched them leave.

Once safely in the hall, Snape was at last felt free to speak. “I wanted to thank you for the gifts. They were very thoughtful.” He hoped she believed in the words he spoke even if the delivery was stiff and formal.

“You’re welcome,” she said with the return of her sweet smile. “I hope the nightshirt fits. I guessed on the size.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

He guided them to an out of the way alcove that was flooded with a prism of colors as sun splashed through a tall, narrow stained glass window. Indicating for her to take the window seat, Snape made sure no one was around to hear or see their exchange.

“I’m not sure what you must think of me for not reciprocating your kindness,” he began quietly.

Davindra gave a quizzical look, and he continued.

“I assume you received many lovely things from your family and friends. But you surely can’t pretend that you didn’t notice that mine was not among them.”

“That’s not what Christmas is about,” she said in a slightly scolding tone. “I only got you a nightshirt and a picture anyway.”

“Still,” he interrupted, “there is something that I want you to have, and I felt it best to give it to you in person. But I do apologize for my tardiness. “

Snape pulled a small wooden box from his pocket and handed it to Davindra. She took it with a curious smile and looked up through her black lashes at him.

“Thank you, Severus.”

He nodded in a slightly embarrassed, curt way and motioned for her to open it. When she did, she gave a breathy exclamation at what lay inside.

Snape’s mother, Eileen, could never have been confused for anything but a plain woman. But that was not of her choosing. Cruel genetics, neglect, and more pressing responsibilities pronounced her unfit for such fineries as jewels and fancy clothes. But Snape knew that in her heart she had always longed for them. He had seen her looking at such things regretfully in shop windows, though she never dared set foot in the stores let alone consider buying such treasures.

With some of his first earnings as a young man, Snape had gone out and bought his mother something truly frivolous and impractical for a woman who mostly wore plain sack dresses and second-hand robes. A broach with a large garnet stone, inside of which was the raised image of princely crown. Eileen Snape had at first thought the item was a mistake or a joke. But when she had realized that it was a gift from her son, she had burst into tears, declaring it the most beautiful jewel on earth and her son more kind and generous than she deserved. Snape had only seen her wear it a handful of times. She said she would only wear it when the occasion merited. But he knew she had spent many nights looking at its details and holding it to the light, perhaps thinking of the rich ornaments that could have been hers if she had only made different choices with her life.

Going back to Spinner’s End to retrieve this item from her long disused room had flooded Snape with so many memories that he felt he would suffocate if he did not get out as soon as possible. Once outside, Snape was then awash in relief, not just for leaving the past behind a locked door, but for also finding a way to leave a bit of his mother and himself to live on in case he met the fate he feared await him. And, for finding the perfect present twice in his lifetime, and on Christmas day even.

Davindra now took the broach from the box and held it up to the light to better see the intricate crown nestled inside the stone, just as his mother had done.

“It was my mother’s,” he finally told her.

She looked back at him with an open-mouthed expression of wonder.

“Oh, Severus, I can’t take this if it was your mother’s,” she said, placing the broach back in the box.

“She’s been dead nearly twenty years,” Snape said as he sat down next to her on the window seat. “It’s been in the back of a drawer gathering dust all this time. I think even she would consider that a shame.”

Davindra continued to look at the piece in her hand. “But don’t you want to keep it to remember her by?”

“No,” was all he replied in a quiet, candid voice.

“Is it a heirloom? Isn’t it valuable?” she asked, again taking it out of the box.

“No.” This time he chuckled slightly. “It was just something I bought her when I had a little money. It’s probably worth far less now than what I paid for it. But she put quite a bit of sentiment in it.”

Snape took the broach in his hand. “Her maiden name was Prince, so I thought the crown fitting. They were a fine and noble wizarding family that fell on hard times and has since basically died out.”

He pinned the broach to Davindra’s shirt just under her collar. She reached up to touch it and smiled at him.

“Thank you. I’m proud to have it. It’s definitely the best Christmas present I got, and all the better that you gave it to me in person.”

She reached up and gently stroked his face. Snape almost leaned in to kiss her when he realized they were out in the open. Instead he removed her hand from him and squeezed it once quickly before he stood again.

“Christmas dinner will begin soon,” he said formally as he straightened his robes. “I suppose I will see you there.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with a slight smile as he left her. Very quietly under his breath he found himself humming “Coventry Carole.” He stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The holiday was all too short. Snape and Davindra managed several deliciously languid hours in each other’s company, feeling comfortably sequestered from the rest of existence in his dungeon quarters. They were free to lounge in bed or in front of the fire, talking, eating, or sleeping. Snape realized he should have felt more wary of all the time they devoted to one another, so obviously absent from the small numbers left at Hogwarts. But he allowed himself the feeling of entitlement to the few scraps of pleasure his life afforded him. He viewed those days as a last meal of sorts before his final journey to the gallows.

Immediately when the first wave of students rushed the old castle doors after the break, the precious cold, quiet that had settled in the corridors and rooms of Hogwarts was shattered and replaced with a busy, distracting pandemonium. It seemed that the new year pulled everyone in many directions at once. Suddenly Davindra was as scarce as a Thestral . Her various projects and preparation for the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams demanded more attention and energy than any human could possess. It was unsurprising that their time together suddenly dissipated.

It might have bothered Snape more if he himself wasn’t so overwhelmed with his own duties, the most taxing of which was trying to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy and his challenges. The boy came back from Christmas at an undoubtedly subdued Malfoy Manor no less gaunt and anxious than before. Snape knew that reprimands from the Dark Lord himself had been an unwelcome present during the holidays. Again, he felt pity for the boy who was doomed to fail, though he bravely struggled in vain.

For all Snape’s attempts at finding a truce between the two of them, Draco still regarded him as an unwelcome adversary in his personal ambitions. The boy would not talk about what he was doing wandering the school halls at all hours nor what any of his plans were. He would not admit to the caper with the necklace and refused all offers of help. And he had no issue with tossing out vicious, cutting comments to his own head of house and once-favorite teacher. When he really wanted to shake lose of Snape, Draco would give him a particularly nasty sneer and say, “Aren’t you late for a date with your girlfriend? Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. If I remember, she’s the impatient sort.”

It would be all Snape could do to keep from hexing the cheeky brat into a smoldering cinder of ash. But he would let it go because putting up more roadblocks to the Dark Lord’s plan would only come back to torment him. However, that didn’t mean that Snape couldn’t find other ways of uncovering Draco’s secrets. Crabbe and Goyle were easy marks. It took little manufactured angst to find reason to keep them in detention, to which Draco would rage righteously. The two beefy, beady-eyed simpletons were never sure of whom to be more afraid of, Draco or Snape.

Draco was being very careful, though. In Snape’s attempts to extract information from the witless sidekicks, he only discovered that they knew virtually nothing. Their only orders were to keep a look-out while Draco tended to business. What he did while behind a closed door was as much a mystery to them as it was to Snape.

The only person Snape dreaded facing more with his limited knowledge of events than the Dark Lord was Dumbledore. But he could not ignore the summons to the tower office any more than he could the burning mark on his arm.

“So you know no more of his plans?” the great wizard asked him in what felt like an overtly patronizing tone.

Snape resisted the urge to disseminate a chilling glare when he replied, “No, sir. He’s keeping it all very close.”

Dumbledore continued his own unwavering stare. “Harry overheard you two arguing during Slughorn’s party, it seems.”

“What? How?” Snape asked in dubious horror. “Oh,” he groaned, “that damned invisibility cloak. Headmaster, you should never have let him have it. It’s just given him license to run amuck in this school at his own whim. He’s an invisible menace.”

“It has proved more valuable than not in most instances,” Dumbledore said. “Though I will admit he has perhaps taken some liberties that were improper. But it was rightfully his anyway. Who was I to keep it from him?”

“You’re the Headmaster. You can do whatever you like,” Snape reminded tersely.

Dumbledore chuckled. “If only I actually possessed that much power. Some things are even bigger than me, Severus. Now, back to the issue of Draco.”

A long familiar cold ball of dread rolled in Snape’s stomach.

“You must continue to stay vigilant of Draco’s activities,” Dumbledore said with quiet seriousness. “It doesn’t matter if you have to don an invisibility cloak yourself and creep along ten paces behind him. It’s for his own safety and that of everyone in this school that we know what he is planning.”

“Do you think I don’t know this?” Snape snapped darkly. “I’ve devoted as much attention to that obstinate little whelp as I dared without completely shirking all my other responsibilities. But while he may not be successful in his tasks for the Dark Lord, he is quite well practiced in being subversive.”

The old wizard sighed loudly and gave Snape a piteous look over his half glasses. “I realize that your position is the most dangerous and precarious of us all. But it is also highly consequential.”

“I am well aware of what I risk by failing.” Snape’s gaze narrowed further, and his voice plummeted to an arctic tone. “But what of you and your search for the Horcruxes and the Vessel?”

Dumbledore gave a nod of acquiescence to Snape’s charge. “I’ve set Harry to work on the last piece of the puzzle to find the next Horcrux. The Vessel is still a mystery. I take it you’ve heard no more?”

Snape shook his head slightly. “Either everyone is being uncharacteristically silent about it or no one honestly knows anything. Of course, it could all just be codswallop. Gossip is as rampant among Death Eaters as it is among a coven of old witches.”

Again, Dumbledore nodded solemnly, and there was blissful silence in which Snape could allow his anxious fury to cool to a seething agitation.

“What are you going to do about her?” The Headmaster’s voice finally sounded.

Snape looked at the old man behind the desk with dull inquiry. “Who?”

“The one you’ve been protecting all these years.” His tone was matter of fact, but Dumbledore’s expression was stern.

The two wizards held each other’s intense look for a moment. Snape’s heart took on an accelerating rhythm in his chest as he considered what to respond with.

“You’re referring to Davindra Collins?” he asked in total calm. “She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“But yet there is danger for her,” Dumbledore replied.

“If you’re speaking of Madame Collins, I believe that Miss Collins has finally managed to break that suffocating bond with the help of her mother.” Snape kept his manner relaxed as he spoke. “She did, after all, return for her final year at Hogwarts.”

“I was speaking more of the bond between you two,” Dumbledore interjected with a leisurely point of his finger in Snape’s direction.

Again they challenged each other with sharp, keen eyes under a heavy silence before Snape finally spoke in a careful voice that was laced with warning.

“And what do you mean exactly?”

“It’s more than obvious that your interest in her has gone beyond teacher and pupil.” Dumbledore held up his hand before Snape could erupt in objection. “I will save the lecture on morality if you will have the decency to consider the risk you have put her in by allowing yourself to become so intimately involved with someone at this particular time.”

Snape forced restrain of all his emotions so that he showed the Headmaster nothing but a placid face and stoic composure. Though he wasn’t certain how to respond when being both challenged and excused of his transgression in the same breath.

“I have given Miss Collins no promises, and I have shared no confidences,” he spoke. “She has never and need never be an issue in regards to my duties for the Dark Lord or the Order.”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, crossing hand over withered claw above his stomach and continued his visual assessment of the dark man before him.

“Then I feel quite sorry for her, for her heart will surely be broken,” he said with blunt gloom.

Snape did little to keep the sardonic curl of his lip in check. “A broken heart can heal especially quick in the young.”

“The best armor you possessed was your untouchable resolve, Severus. The thing that makes so many of us weak against our enemies, even me, is our love for those in our lives.” Dumbledore spoke with a grave passion and seemed to lean forward in his chair. “That is one of Voldemort’s favorite paths: cut down everyone who matters to his adversary and eventually they themselves will fall.”

Snape too came forward to the edge of his seat as he set in to defend himself. “Simply because I may have taken a liberty that was flagrantly and repeatedly shoved under my nose does not mean that I am now vulnerable to it.” His voice began to rise with his growing words and anger. “I have not survived all these years by wearing my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see. And though you may think me a cold and heartless man, I must unequivocally state that I have invested no long lasting emotions in Davindra Collins, which could beget my downfall.”

He sprung up from his chair in a dramatic motion to continue his raving. “I have spent fifteen years holed up in this stone castle, serving you, these students, the wizarding community, and once again the Dark Lord. I have worked and slaved to try to clear my name for some fragment of dignity. And through it all I’ve asked for very little for myself. I will most humbly apologize for the dereliction of my duty if you wish. But I will not sit here and allow you to call me weak!”

Dumbledore, too, rose in an attempt to calm the raging Potions master. “Insulting you was not the intention of my words, Severus,” he said firmly. “You must know that the last thing I ever intended to do when I took you in to Hogwarts was to sentence you to a solitary life of loneliness. But I can see that that is indeed what you have suffered from. And it is probably what finally drove you to succumb to the temptation after all this time. However, if she truly meant nothing to you, you would not have spent the last six years standing over her like some dark guardian angel. The capacity to love, in and of itself, is not a fault.”

“Love?” Snape spat with a bitter laugh.

“What I am trying to say is that if your concerns about Madame Collins have even a sliver of merit,” Dumbledore continued as he came to stand before Snape, “then your involvement with her granddaughter has given her and perhaps Voldemort himself a valuable weapon that can be used against you.”

Snape was about to go back to the ridiculous insult in the accusation of being in love with Davindra when he realized what the Headmaster was actually implying with his speech. He felt strength weep from his body like water and he hid it by leaning against the chair from which he had stood.

“Your Occlumency skills are matched only by Voldemort’s. Your knowledge of the Dark Arts is unsurpassed. I doubt there is another Death Eater in ranks more imposing or fearsome. How else could you even be touched?” Dumbledore asked.

“But she means nothing,” Snape said with far less fury than before.

“Then you’ve wasted her.” The Headmaster’s words were hard and cold. “You may still be safe, but her life is marked.”

Dumbledore turned to go back to his desk. “A rather cruel sentence to hand down on top of a broken heart,” he added casually.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape found himself in his chambers with almost no memory of his exit from the Headmaster's office nor the journey to his dungeon sanctuary. All he comprehended was the overwhelming numbness that consumed him and the feel of the Firewhisky bottle in his hand. Dumbledore's words still reverberated in his head like a painful gong. Davindra had been used to weaken him, to make him susceptible. He should have listened to his own suspicions years before.

Physical nausea filled him when he scrutinized his audacious stupidity. At worst he had feared for his job or his already degraded reputation. But something much larger had been at risk. For to long he had foolishly believed Madame Collins was a harmless old potions mistress who vicariously lived through her grandchild's success. Even when her connections with the Dark Lord were suspected, he had never realized how intricate her web really was. Now he was caught.

And as much as he wished to have loathing toward Davindra, he found himself pitying her unsuspecting role. She had been used in a similar but more contemptible manner. The person she trusted her life to had placed her on the altar of sacrifice for their own greed. Dumbledore was correct. The danger in which she was now fully submerged would eventually engulf her. Finally he accepted that she was oblivious and innocent in its impending approach. It had been easier to believe she was an eager counterpart in Madame Collins's devices. But he could see now she gained nothing from her participation. Her soul was not that empty and her heart was not that cold. Snape knew every corner of her emotions and nowhere was there deceit, especially not for him.

How would he protect her, he questioned in misery? And he had sworn he would many times. After all that was past, how now could he undo what his actions had induced? Even his own callous, fetid heart could not bear the thought that she could suffer for him or because of him. As with Dumbledore's opinion of Draco: it wasn't a fair exchange.

Just as his self loathing was about to peak and send him into insanity, a knock came at his door. Before he could rise to answer it, Davindra walked through with ease and informality as though the room was her own.

“There you are,” she said distractedly. “I’ve been looking for you. Do you have anything for this?” She immediately turned her backside to him and pulled her shirt tail free, then shoved the edge of her skirt down to reveal an expanse of familiar flesh across her lower back.

Still too fixated on the issue of his ruin and her entrapment, Snape’s eyes didn’t even comprehend what was before him. When he continued to say nothing, she turned to him.

“What’s wrong? You look ill.” Her face took on a deep shade of concern as her eyes searched his exceptionally pallid complexion.

Shaking himself free of his silent reverie, he spoke with a deceptively strong voice. “I’m fine. Now what do you want?”

Her look spoke doubt at his statement, but she did again reveal her backside, and Snape forced his eyes to see what was before him.

“I think I’ve scratched my birthmark,” she said. “It’s been itching and stinging. I don’t know why.”

On closer inspection he could see that indeed she had clawed the goblet shaped mark until it nearly bled from angry, raised scratches. The mark itself was now a vivid red.

“What have you done?” Snape chastised, as he looked closer. “You’re liable to get a terrible infection that way.”

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it until today,” she said with exasperation.

Snape went to a cupboard in his bath and rummaged until he found a small jar of Murtlap-based ointment. Uncapping it and returning to her, he applied a thick coating to the mark, which immediately reduced the ugly irritation and redness.

Davindra sighed in correspondence with the relief. “Oh, that’s better.”

Snape handed her the jar. “Keep applying it for a few days, and if the itching doesn’t stop, see Madam Pomfrey to have it removed.”

“I’d hate to lose it,” she said sadly, readjusting her clothes. “It’s never bothered me before.”

“Better it be gone than cause you such trouble.” His words seem to bear more meaning than she could ever realize.

“Wouldn’t you miss seeing it?” Her expression was mischievous and flirtatious as she approached him.

Snape felt he could hardly be in the same room with her. Having open enticements laid before him was unbearable.

“Davindra, I really have a lot of work to do,” he interrupted her seduction. “This isn’t a good time.”

Her expression reverted back to worry, and she finally closed the distance between them. Taking his face gently in her warm hands, she looked deeply into his eyes.

“You aren’t well, Severus.” Her voice was soft and soothing. “You’re tired and you’re drinking too much.”

As much as he wished he could wrench himself out of her grasp and tell her to leave his sight and never come back, Snape found he only stand helplessly in her hands. If he attempted to end things with her now, it would cause a lengthy, dramatic argument in which he would hardly win. She knew too well how to fight him with temptation, jealousy, and sheer tenacity. The best he could do was hold her at bay.

Forcing a thin, pained smile, Snape said, “I’m sure you’re right. But I do have a great deal to attend to tonight before I can rest. And you, undoubtedly, have your own studies which you should not be neglecting.”

“One night wouldn’t hurt,” she assured him.

“At this point, it can make all the difference,” he insisted. “And I AM busy. Some other time, Davindra.”

He loosened her hands from him and walked to the door. Holding it open, he waited for her to exit. Though she seemed willing to leave, there was still a worried expression on her face.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” she ordered in a kind voice.

Then leaning in, she kissed him softly on the lips. Snape allowed the precious contact only because he pronounced it his last from her.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” she asked softly, her lips barely parted from his.

Snape nodded as he stared into her soothing, green eyes. “Yes, I do know that.”

It was the slim, cold hours of the morning before Snape fell into his empty bed. But copious amounts of alcohol did not bring sleep any quicker. His mind churned over events, ideas, worries, fears, and paranoia until he thought he’d pull his own brain out through his ear to stop the onslaught. Eventually exhaustion settled in, and he felt himself beginning to sink into slumber.

Around the edges of consciousness, Davindra appeared. Relief and desire flowed through his relaxing body at her presence in his dream. Like that time several years before when a very young girl crept into his chambers to watch him as he slept, this older, more mature creature did much the same. But this time, when she knelt across his supine body and touched him with more experienced hands, Snape was able to reciprocate her touches and kisses. They melded together in well-rehearsed harmony that nearly shattered his stoic resolve to never again touch her.

Before he opened his eyes, he prayed that Davindra had actually ignored his request and silently entered his room, as she had done on many occasions, to wake him with her already heated passion. But his eyes opened to an empty room, occupied by only him and his pathetic dreams. He made a promise to change the wards on his doors in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape felt as though he had already been pronounced dead. His heart was cold and heavy. His gut felt hollow and acidic. But his mind was now finely tuned to the tasks before him. Determination to put Davindra out of his life drove him to fixate on Draco Malfoy and the orders of the Dark Lord.

He took to practically stalking Draco to find out what he was doing. But for all the work, it provided few clues. Somehow the boy would manage to disappear in the evenings and a thorough search of the castle would find nothing. If Snape didn’t know better, he would suspect Draco of Apparating out of the school. In the wee hours of the morning, he might be lucky to stumble upon the boy again, looking frustrated and exhausted.

His threats never budged Draco’s temperament. He would deliver cold remarks to Snape and then stumble off to his dormitory to catch a few hours sleep before classes.

The one place Snape did know that Draco frequented was a seldom used bathroom, quivering and shaking as he blubbered piteously to the local depressed specter, Moaning Myrtle. She gave Snape a dirty look when he entered but then disappeared into an open cubical, followed by a splash of water. Draco wiped his tell-tale tears away and replaced his misery with a look of fury.

“Would you stop spying on me!” he snarled.

“I can assure you, I would make a better and more understanding confidant than the ghost of a sniveling girl who spends her time watching excrement pass through the plumbing,” he said smoothly.

“At least she doesn’t keep trying to run my life.”

“You don’t seem to understand my situation,” Snape said quietly as he approached Draco. “You know what is expected of you, but have you not considered that others might have similar expectations placed upon them at the price of their own life and loved ones?”

Draco’s pale gray eyes burned into Snape with suspicious interest.

“I am only doing the job I was ordered to and fulfilling the Vow that was thrust upon me,” he continued with honest sympathy as he came to stand next to the boy. “My own failure will bring my death.”

If possible, even more color drained from Draco’s face, and he grabbed the edge of the sink to steady himself.

“So now I have to be responsible for you too?” he asked bitterly.

“No one takes responsibility for me but me,” Snape reminded him darkly. “I will do what I must to ensure I carry out my orders. I could employ any dark and devious means available or you could graciously acknowledge the generous partnership that is being offered.”

Draco’s scowl deepened and his eyes turned to the mirror in front of him to stare down the reflection it cast.

“He expects me to fail, doesn’t he?”

Snape allowed his eyes to dip from Draco’s face in lieu of an answer. Draco hissed out a long breath of defeat.

“Do you trust him?” the boy asked solemnly.

It seemed a ludicrous question and a wry smirk twitched at Snape’s lip. “Only if you mean in the way I trust that a rabid dog will bite or that fire will burn.” He snorted at his own dismal humor. “But do not confuse trust with faith. I hold no faith in the Dark Lord’s favor or words,” he continued quietly. “But I do trust in his power and determination.”

“Do you ever wish you could get out?” Darco asked in a hushed voice.

“I don’t bother to waste mental energy on such impractical musings,” he replied blandly, though his eyes conveyed the bitter resentment those constant fantasies inspired in him.

Draco finally turned to Snape, though he still seemed to require the stability of the heavy porcelain sink for support.

“What do you know of Vanishing Cabinets?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Though Snape now knew what had engulfed months of Draco’s time, he was still kept at arm’s length. He wasn’t allowed to see exactly what the boy was working on, he was only allowed to comment and advise on a subject with which he was not well familiarized. Snape suspected that most of Draco’s time must be spent in the depths of the Room of Requirement where old, broken, useless, or illicit items languished gathering dust. However, his own attempts to locate and enter the room were hindered by too many prying eyes or Draco’s own protection.

Snape shared what he had learned with Dumbledore only to receive more orders to continue helping the boy while still hindering his success. It was an impossible charge Snape cursed long and hard after his conversations with the Headmaster.

‘Protect Draco, protect Potter, protect the school, protect the students, while no one lifts a finger for my own protection.’

When he inquired as to how Dumbledore intended to inform the Order of Snape’s extensive sacrifice and plead for his life to be spared, the old man simply smiled and stroked Fawkes’s scarlet head, and told Snape to not concern himself, that it would be taken care of.

It took some time for Davindra to notice Snape’s absence and cool regard for her. It was several weeks before she cornered him in his office and demanded to know why he was avoiding her.

Snape gazed at her tall, lean form, dressed in her school uniform and robes. She had matured so much that the ensemble seemed mismatched to her astute, cynical, womanly countenance. Crisp, green eyes regarded him relentlessly. The long, ash-black hair that Snape had combed his fingers through so many times was fixed firmly at the back of her head. He could stand and drink her in for hours. But it would only inflame the pain he struggled to hold at bay.

“I have been very busy, Davindra, as have you,” he reminded as he pulled his eyes away to resume a mindless grading assignment.

“Don’t lie to me, Severus,” she said coolly. “I know you too well. Our time may be stretched very thin, but I know that if you wanted to see me, you would find a way. But you’ve barely uttered a word to me outside of class. I deserve to know what is going on. Is it Grandmother or Mother? Has someone threatened you again?”

Snape rolled his eyes obviously to her. “No one has done anything,” he snapped impatiently. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have other interests and demands in my life besides you?”

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes accusingly. “No, it’s something else. You’ve changed the wards on your doors. You won’t even come near me, let alone touch me. Have I done something?”

A snarl of annoyance left him as he tossed his quill aside. “Davindra, please! This year is one of the most difficult and demanding I have ever faced. I have a whole new subject to teach that takes up a great deal of time.”

“Everyone is acting very strange,” Davindra commented further. “Have you seen Draco? I hardly ever come across him, and when I do, he looks positively ill. He won’t talk to me either. Everyone seems jumpy. Healer Jones says there have been a rise in long term care cases at St. Mungo’s. It all has to do with the Dark Lord, doesn’t it?”

Snape took a moment before he spoke. He needed his mind calm and clear to deal with her question. “I have no doubt that the Dark Lord’s return has caused a great deal of upset everywhere. But I cannot knowingly speak for Draco Malfoy or anyone else.”

He rose from his chair to stand in front of her. “It’s as simple as this. I need time, Davindra,” he said quietly and firmly. “We both do. There is too much at stake right now for distractions to supersede. After this year is over, things may be different. I ask that you not press me now for what I cannot give. I beseech you, as a mature young woman, to understand that some things are more important than emotions and desires.”

She stared deeply into his eyes. “Is it that you’ve grown tired of me?” Her voice came as a pained whisper.

He allowed himself a sardonic snort of amusement, then reached out to gently tuck a few strands of obsidian hair behind her delicate ear.

“You are too endlessly unpredictable to ever grow boring. All the more reason for me to gather some space from you so I can focus on the things that must be done and demand all of my concentration. Will you allow me that?”

The beginnings of tears shone in her eyes but she nodded with a faint smile and her hands came to rest against his dark chest, finger splayed apart as if feel as much of him as possible. “But I’ll miss you so terribly.”

“You’ll see me almost daily. I am still your teacher. And I have never given up my post as your protector,” Snape reminded her.

With a sniff to steel her composure, Davindra straightened herself and gave one last grasp to his robes before surrendering her hold. “But you do have to take better care of yourself. Get some sleep and remember to eat. And do trim and clean your nails, Severus. Someone is bound to think you’ve got lycanthropy.”

He gave her an annoyed grimace. “Enough carping. I have work to do.”

They stood looking at each other from an arm’s length away, unable or unwilling to surrender the rare, precious moment between them.

“Is your birthmark bothering you still?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I use the ointment if it flares up. It’s been fine though.”

Again, the heartrending silence pronounced the end of their time together.

Much to Snape’s relief, Davindra finally moved to the door, but turned once again to him. “Severus, do you promise about the end of the year? I’ll be able to stand the wait if I know that we can be together then.”

Her hopeful face nearly broke him, though he stayed cool and determined. “When it’s all over, things will be different.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Somehow it wasn’t any easier to spend every night alone and every moment silently trapped within his own thoughts now that Davindra willingly kept her distance from him. He knew to no longer expect her knock at his door or to find her waiting in his chair by the fire, or that he might wake to find her warm, smooth body nestled against his in the dark. His disappointment and loneliness were suddenly so palpable they had texture. But the slim hope that she might be spared some measure of pain or torment by his departure kept his resolve from crumbling.

Dumbledore’s and the Dark Lord’s demands supplied enough distraction for him to push through one day, then drag himself into the next. But there was far less enthusiasm in his heart for anything, teaching, reading, or tormenting students, because dread and anger had replaced all sensations.

At the beginning of March the sadistic monotony was broken by the Weasley boy being poisoned by a drink of mead from Slughorn. Only the quick thinking of Hero Potter saved him from certain death. Snape’s examination of the bottle and drink revealed a very common and deadly poison. Slughorn swore he bought the mead in Hogsmeade as a gift for Dumbledore but had never gotten around to giving it to him. If Slughorn had wanted to kill anyone, he could have been far more clever. It was obvious the bottle came to him as a deadly tonic.

The simple composition and obvious failure pronounced Draco’s desperate and shoddy work. Again, the boy insisted it wasn’t him. But his denial was growing weak and less insistent as the toll of his task grew heavier. Snape wasn’t certain how much longer Draco would last under that level of strain, but he continued to refuse help.

Dumbledore was becoming less patient and understanding of the issue. He caught Snape on the edge of the grounds as he returned from Hogsmeade to question Madame Rosemerta about the mead.

“The mead did come from the Three Broomsticks, but Madam Rosemerta was strangely foggy on the details,” Snape spoke as soon as the Headmaster neared him.

“It was Draco again, wasn’t it?” Dumbledore stated.

“I believe so.”

“Severus, you have to do something about him,” he then warned him firmly. “We cannot have students dying. The Ministry will shut us down and everything will be jeopardized.”

“I am doing all that I can, sir,” Snape snarled in reply. At this time he felt he had no tolerance for criticisms and lectures. “And you are taking for granted all that I have already accomplished. But there is only so much within my limited power. If you can find someone else to take on this loathsome job, I would happily relinquish it.”

“You can relinquish nothing,” Dumbledore snapped back. “You’ve made promises that cannot be broken. You’ve no choice but to comply. I very much appreciate all that you have done, but your tasks are nowhere near complete. If you have to personally interrogate every member of Slytherin to find out what is going on, be prepared to do it without delay.”

The old wizard gave Snape a firm, dark look before he turned to head back into the school to leave Snape standing alone and furious. It took several moments of walking about the edge of the forest before he felt calm enough to follow the Headmaster’s footsteps.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was as though a stalemate had been reached between all the battling forces. An odd, calm routine settled around Snape. He continued his watch over Draco with little affect. Occasionally the boy might ask a question of some issue of Dark Magic that Snape would answer only to be given no background or reason for the information. It was a waiting game, Snape realized. In time he would find out everything, but it might be too late.

Regularly he reported to Dumbledore who would take the knowledge with the appearance of distracted disappointment but then turn his intense blue eyes to Snape and inquire of details and again dispense insistent encouragement of Snape’s efforts. He gave little information as to his own adventures, though Snape knew they were many and far a field. His instructions were always the same. Protect the school in his absence, keep in close contact with the Order, and if he ever failed to return, follow his directions exactly.

Davindra kept her promise to stay away. Except for class and the few required meetings for her final project, they did not encounter each other. Even then things were kept to a formal discussion, though Snape could feel her eyes searching him, looking for the slightest reneging in his proclamation of solitude. Before the meeting was over she could not help but ask if he was alright. He would reply that he was fine.

“You don’t look fine,” she would say with sad kindness.

“I’m doing the best I can.” It was the answer he gave the most often to those who expected the most from him. And he felt achingly inadequate in it.

The end of term was drawing nearer, and Draco seemed no closer to his task, which at least kept Snape unfailing in his own. Once again the boy had taken to hiding out in the bathroom, talking and sobbing to a spectral confidant. Searching him out was becoming tiring and unproductive. But Snape planned to try to light a fire under him. As he neared, the sound of hexes, crashes, and screams of “murder!” reached Snape’s ears and made his steps quicken, though his heart clenched with dread.

But he wasn’t prepared for what he did see when he opened the door. Wonder Boy Potter was standing over Draco, who was lying in a puddle of water and his own blood. His body and face had been slashed with something very sharp. But there was no weapon. Only wands. That meant that one spell in particular had done the damage. A spell of which Snape would have bet a million Galleons that Potter wouldn’t have know the existence, let alone the proper use.

His first task was to mend Draco and send him on his way to the hospital wing. After getting him settled there and giving the best explanation he could to Madam Pomfrey, Snape went back to deal with Potter.

What he wanted to do was teach the arrogant little bastard a lesson. Perhaps a few nicks with a Slicing Spell just to see how it feels. More important was to find out where Potter had learned that particular bit of dirty and slightly impressive magic.

As soon as Snape saw the faint vision of an old Advanced Potion-Making book and a long forgotten name scribbled inside, he knew exactly how Potter had learned that curse. And he also now had a fair idea how he had managed to do so well in sixth-year Potions.

Snape had forgotten about the old book he had so thoroughly inscribed with his own ideas and improvements. So much like Tom Riddle’s own book. Recognizing the one similarity made him uncomfortable. He focused back on the book and how it came into Potter’s possession. There had been much that Snape had not cleaned out of his classroom when he changed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. An entire cabinet of books had been left behind because he knew he would not need them. That must have been where it was. He should have kept better track of it. It was possible that there were even worse hands than Potter’s it could have fallen into, though he has having a hard time thinking of who at that moment.

Potter did not produce the book. Snape knew the Potion’s book he showed him was a fake. ‘Let the little brat keep it and perhaps actually learn something for a change. It’s obvious he doesn’t realize he is still learning from me,’ Snape decided. What was most imperative now was to keep him out of everyone’s way. Detention until the end of term would do just that. ‘And if thwarting Gryffindor’s chances at the House Cup is the consequence, so be it.’

Again it was past that gargoyle and up the staircase to face the old wizard. This time Snape felt a slight joy in informing the Headmaster that his precious savior had attempted to kill Draco Malfoy. But when Snape saw the dark accusation in Dumbledore’s eyes, he felt his adulation leave.

“Do you think this is my fault, Headmaster?” Snape inquired.

“Draco IS your charge,” Dumbledore said with only a hint of iciness to his voice.

“And Potter is yours,” he replied with a raised bitter tone. “But your lax rules for the ‘Chosen One’ have created a monster who has run rampant from day one! You’ve worried of Draco taking innocent lives. What of Potter running about with his hero complex on backwards, brandishing dark spells at whomever he declares suspicious? He’s the one who could ruin everything!”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “Calm yourself, Severus,” he spoke firmly. “I’m not saying that Harry’s actions are excusable. On the contrary, I’m very disappointed that he has ignored my warnings and insisted on his relentless pursuit of Draco. I’ll do what I can to help keep him occupied. There will be a very important project he will be helping me with very soon. I can say that he is not the sort to do battle just out of spite, like some we know.” He gave Snape a pointed look over the glasses perched on his nose.

Snape leveled an equally firm look in return. “I’m certain that Draco was simply attempting to defend himself against his aggressor. But I myself have made sure that Potter stays out of our way. He has detention every Saturday until the end of term.” He couldn’t help but give a grim smile.

“Oh, Severus, the House Cup,” Dumbledore sighed regretfully.

Snape shrugged. “Boy Wonder should have thought of that before he went around casting Slicing Hexes at fellow students.”

The Headmaster sighed again. “I suppose there are more important things at hand right now. And exactly where did Harry learn such a spell?” Dumbledore asked.

There was no way that Snape would allow the truth to get out, but the lie wouldn’t be so far removed to appear suspicious.

“He said he read it in a book. However, there was nothing out of the ordinary amongst his school books. But who knows what bad habits he may have picked up from Black and Lupin.”

“Funny, I think they would have said the same thing about you,” Dumbledore replied as he inspected his charred, skeletal left hand. “Trust me when I say that Harry is not prone to violence. I’m sure his horror at what he has done will be his own best punishment and deterrent from ever doing something like that again. However, I won’t challenge your detention,” he assured Snape. “Draco will recover completely?”

“Perhaps a faint scar or two, but I was quite quick with the healing counter-curse.” Snape eyed the withered hand. “How much worse is it?” he asked tilting his chin in its general direction.

Dumbledore pulled his wide sleeve up to almost his shoulder to expose his entire arm blackened and stick-like. Snape nearly grimaced at the sorrowful sight.

“It won’t be much longer,” Dumbledore said calmly as he lowered his sleeve. “And about that. There are just a few things we should formalize.”

‘Finally!’ Snape thought.

The Headmaster got up and came around the desk to face the wall of paintings in which the Hogwarts Headmasters of the past slept peacefully.

“Armando,” Dumbledore spoke. But the portrait he addressed continued its slumber.

He cleared his throat and again called to the sleeping man in a louder voice. Still no movement. With faint annoyance, Dumbledore rapped loudly on the edge of the frame with the knuckles of his good hand.

“Dippet! Wake up.”

The picture jumped with fake surprise and snorted most convincingly. “Dumbledore, what’s this all about?”

The Headmaster gave Snape an eye roll before he went back to the portrait. “We are needing your assistance, Armando.”

“Yes, well, of course,” the painted man said, straightening himself in his chair and adjusting his jacket. “Anything I can do to help the Headmaster of Hogwarts. What do you need? Advice on addressing the Board of Governors? Perhaps on dismissing an insubordinate teacher?”

Snape ignored the less than subtle slide of the man’s eyes to him.

“No, what I need is a witness,” Dumbledore stated.

“To what?” Dippet inquired.

“My last will in testament and my confession.” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly while Snape and Dippet exchanged looks of suspicious surprise.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape headed back to the hospital wing to check on Draco. But his mind still turned over all he had just heard. Dumbledore was going to trust a portrait of an ancient, slow-witted, historically ineffective former Headmaster to vindicate Snape’s actions and explain the old wizard’s motives by way of a dispatched phoenix. It sounded as ludicrous as his ideas of transferring some form of protection to Harry at his death in a way similar to what his mother did. Perhaps the curse that was slowly killing his limb had made it to his brain already, Snape thought miserably. None of it would work.

Stepping inside the large infirmary with its rows of bed, it was easy to spot Draco as he was the only one there with Madam Pomfrey still tending to his scars.

“Give us a moment, would you, Madam?” Snape asked quietly.

She gave him a wary look, but gathered her supplies and left in a silent, spectral-like walk cultivated by stepping around the sick and dying for so many years.

Draco still held a disgruntled look, though his face was edged in worry and fatigue.

“I’ll kill him,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make him pay.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Snape replied, his eyes still searching to ensure they were alone to speak freely. “He belongs to the Dark Lord. Your job is not to concern yourself with him but to stick to your own responsibilities. I have made sure that he won’t bother you again.”

“I can take care of myself and my own responsibilities,” Draco snarled. But his enthusiasm must have pulled at the still healing wounds for he flinched slightly and gingerly cradled his chest.

“Being left to your own devices would have found you bleeding out on a bathroom floor, a ghost heralding your passing, and the Chosen One marched off to Azkaban,” Snape uttered with dark sarcasm. “Not to mention my own subsequent demise. A complete and total sabotage of the Dark Lord’s plan, all for your own pride.”

What little blood was left in Draco’s pale, angry face seemed to drain away. But he made no reply.

“I need to know how much longer,” Snape continued in a more quiet but deadly voice. “When will it be ready? He grows tired of waiting, and I grow tired of giving excuses for the delay.”

“I don’t think it will be too much longer,” the boy said with some hesitation. “I just need a little more time.”

“We are all running out of time, Mr. Malfoy,” he reminded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Detention with Potter did little to ease the nervous wait. But there was great satisfaction to knowing that the arrogant little beast was being forced to read over and over the many transgressions his father and friends committed in their years at Hogwarts. Snape would know when Potter came to a particularly disturbing one for he could almost feel the dark cloud of indignation and shame rise from the boy.

But the detention was ineffective at wrecking Gryffindor’s chances for the House Cup. Snape had to find out from a glowing McGonagall that even without the great Seeker and with the least skilled team Hogwarts had seen in years, the silver cup would remain in her office to be admired by him at any time he chose. A tight lipped, slightly snide “Congratulations” was all Snape could manage, and since he didn’t have the stomach for the old witch’s gloating, he confided himself to his office and drowned his sorrows in Firewhisky and dark thoughts.

When Snape looked back, he could recall that there was a peculiar energy in the air that day, starting very early. He has awakened with a nearly blinding headache that several doses of potion barely held at bay. His nerves felt ragged and hypersensitive. Several times he had to control a strong desire to draw his wand and blast an obnoxiously annoying student into oblivion for a miniscule mistake or tardiness.

Unsettling still was the sudden look of triumph and sly smile Draco Malfoy sported. His smug expression told Snape that he was closing in on the task at hand. Little did Snape know how close. Further pressing of the matter only got him a cool smirk from the boy and the foreboding words of "just get ready." A cold knot writhed in his stomach for the rest of the day.

In his office Snape held his impatient nervousness hostage with a bottle of wine and a stack of essays on which he could hardly concentrate long enough to make a single mark upon. As the evening progressed, the silent, charged atmosphere around him seemed to thicken and pulse with a life-force of its own. When Flitwick finally burst into his office to announce that Death Eaters had invaded the castle, Snape didn't even flinch. Calmly he asked of their whereabouts and then stunned the little man and left him on the floor of the office.

The two students stationed outside the dungeon did manage to throw him off his guard. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood stood staring at him with curious horror as though they knew of what he was about to do. In order to keep them from asking any questions or trying to follow him, he instructed them to see to Flitwick who was still unconscious.

Snape's first priority, as he flew out of the dungeon, was to find Draco. Almost running directly into Gibbon, a rather cowardly and twitchy dark soldier, as he rounded a corner surprised even him. Though his mind knew that Death Eaters had finally found their way into Hogwarts, seeing them within the once-safe walls was still hard to comprehend. Snape covered his flustered emotions by barking sharp orders and sending him in the opposite direction to give himself more time to search for Dumbledore and the boy.

By now students and other staff were beginning to converge in the halls because of the shouts, screams, and exploding hexes that filled the air. Snape moved quickly and silently through them all with no question or rebuke from anyone. The fools thought he was there to help. He almost wanted to scream at them that they were ignorant, trusting, and hopeless. Part of him even wished to run into Harry Potter himself, who might actually attempt to stop him from the terrible task he was rushing toward.

Up and down staircases he went, finding periodic clusters of frightened students and marauding Death Eaters reveling in their terrorizing of children. Snape would order them on to less cowardly tasks with words harsh enough to be interpreted by fearful bystanders as authoritative threats against the enemy.

Just as he was about to conclude that Dumbledore had escaped Hogwarts safely, he approached the Astronomy Tower. A new, more powerful foreboding washed over him. Ignoring the painful stitch in his side and the dry, rough breaths he hungrily sucked in, Snape ran up the winding staircase until he found the wooden door to the top of the tower.

Bursting through, Snape found Draco in a faltering stance and near tears while the Carrows, and Greyback looked on with pleasure. Then he saw a most piteous sight that he wished to have ended his days and never seen. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard the modern world would ever know, was slumped weakly against the wall, his breath labored and wet, his face an ancient, grey mask of death.

For a few frozen, suspended seconds, the two wizards held each other's gaze. A flash of relief flitted through the old man's fading eyes, and Snape decided he'd rather throw himself from the ramparts than raise his wand to his only advocate.

Then the Headmaster's weak, pleading words reached his mind,, and he felt the last energies of the dying man converging to encourage and bolster Snape's resolve.

'It's time. You can do this. You have to'

"Severus… please..." The external voice was weak and pleading.

'You've never been a coward before. Don't fail me now.'

As though an outside force suddenly took control of his body and mind, Snape found his wand poised and the words flowing from his mouth.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The body flew into the air after receiving a brilliant burst of green light and then dove in a graceful arc to the ground below.

Seconds. It had taken seconds for him to walk onto the tower and kill the greatest man he'd ever known, to seal his fate, and pronounce his own life worthless. But it had felt like an eternity.

Then suddenly everything began to move at the speed of light. He was running down the tower stairs, Draco shoved along in front of him, and the sound of spells and rushing feet coming after him. Who had been on top of the tower? Who had seen his crime?

Not feeling he had a spare second in the swirling madness around him to investigate, Snape pressed forward and soon found more Death Eaters coming to his aid in tardy, sheepish fashion.

“It’s over, time to go!” he bellowed at them as he swept out of the tower, leaving others to battle whomever remained behind.

Snape ran past familiar faces who gave him hardly a glance as he rushed passed. The likes of McGonagall and Lupin were in heavy battle along side several students. None even bothered to ask him where he was going or what had happened at the tower. They all believed he was fighting with them. With any luck he could get out without having to hurt or kill again.

“We need to get back through the cabinet,” Draco finally spoke in a panicked, high voice. “It’s in the Room of Requirement.”

Snape grabbed the boy by his robes. “Are you stupid?” he barked. “We report back to the Dark Lord immediately. Going back to Knockturn Alley will be like stepping directly into jail cells in Azkaban. Unless you wish to reunite with your father tonight, I suggest we Disapparate outside the castle walls.”

Draco didn’t argue, so Snape shoved him roughly on toward the main hall and freedom. Snape hurried on, dodging stray spells and clouds of disintegrating stone until a hand snatched at his robe, nearly pulling him flat on his back. His wand raised and a curse on his lips, Snape spun about to find Davindra clutching at his arm, her eyes wide with shock.

“What’s going on? How did the Death Eaters get here?” Her voice was as horror filled as Draco’s, who had run on ahead. “Where are you going? I’ll come with you!”

Snape shook her free and applied his stoniest scowl. “I’m going no where you are needed.”

“Severus, what’s happened? If you’re leaving, I’m coming too. You can’t stop me.” The stubborn furl of her eyebrow and tilt of her jaw told him that she was serious.

The sound of heavy feet to the rear signaled the approach of the rest of the Dark Lord’s troops in retreat from Hogwarts; the task complete. As their faces rounded the corner, they spied him standing with a female student, her hands still trying to keep hold of him.

With as much strength and fury as he could muster, Snape raised his arm and delivered a wide arching backhanded slap to Davindra’s face, sending her reeling against the wall. Her gasp of surprise was echoed by the Death Eaters behind him, though they closed in with depreciatory interest. Davindra slid down the wall, moaning and holding her cheek. Snape stood over her still dazed form, the snarl of disgust carefully imbedded in every line on his face, his hand throbbing from the force of the blow.

“You stupid, simpering, little whore,” he growled. “Did you really think you meant any more to me than just an easy lay to pass the time? Go back home to Grandmother, where you belong.”

He allowed himself one last look at her astonished eyes brimming with tears and the trail of blood beginning to run from her nose before he curled his lip in amused revulsion and stepped away. The small cluster of Death Eaters cackled and jeered his performance as they shuffled past, taking their own shots with swipes and kicks to the downed girl.

Snape didn’t stop or look back. He continued on until he could see the massive doors, open to the dark, forgiving night. He ran on until he could taste fresh, cool air in his burning lungs. His heart thundered so viciously in his chest it was painful, and he wondered if it was his own body’s rebellion against what it had been forced to do that night. Perhaps he might spontaneously explode from self-loathing. Or he might just crumple to the ground, an empty shell, suddenly devoid of all attributes of a human being.

But he pushed on. His feet ran and his chest pushed out a breath after taking one in. His mind still directed him to the Disapparation spot outside the school walls. A withered flutter in his breast reminded him that he still lived, though his heart was so irretrievably broken, spoiled, and deteriorated that he wished he could rip out the wretched, useless thing and toss it away, never to be bothered by it again.

Madame Potion: Chapter Sixteen

2007-05-16T01:06:45Z

Year Seven: A Misery More Beautiful

what ravages of spirit
conjured this temptuous rage
created you a monster
broken by the rules of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
...
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
...
but I have the sense to recognize
that I don't know how to let you go
Do What You Have to Do -- Sarah McLachlan

~*~*~*~

‘No, I won’t do it. I won’t do it. I won’t do it. No, no, no, no, I won’t do it.’

“I won’t do it.” Snape sat across from Dumbledore, his wand lying limply in his hands. The old wizard cradled a withered, black claw that used to be his left hand.

“I don’t see any other way, Severus,” Dumbledore said with a pained, weak smile.

“You’re essentially asking me to sign my own death warrant.” Snape’s black eyes flashed viciously, and he stood to stride across the damp basement that served as his workshop at Spinner’s End. He began a hurried recapping and re-shelving of bottles and boxes that had been strewn from one end of the long work table to the other in their vain attempts to save the now useless appendage at the Headmaster’s arm.

“You may as well just hand me over to Potter and the Order afterward, for my life will have no value from that point on.” Snape’s voice almost shook with the reality of the request just made to him. He noticed his hands trembled as well, and the jars clinked together as he handled them.

“I’ll make sure that you are protected.” The old wizard tried to sound soothing, though his own voice was shaky and feeble.

Snape turned furiously to face the man. “I. Won’t. DO IT!” he yelled.

Dumbledore sighed piteously. “It’s going to be done, if not by you, then by someone. It needs to be done. I would rather leave it in the hands of someone I trust implicitly than cast it to fate.”

With a visibly shaking hand, Snape reached up to wipe the sweat and spittle from his upper lip as he considered the wizard’s words.

“Voldemort has ordered my death,” Dumbledore continued. “There is a small army of dark wizards positively drooling with anticipation for the honor of being the one to cast the curse. And I, foolishly enough, have managed to fatally poison myself.” He looked down at the charred hand in his lap.

“I told you, I don’t know for certain…” Snape attempted to break in.

“I know,” Dumbledore said more strongly. “I can feel it this time. It was stupid of me to go off searching for the Horcrux alone and think that I alone could destroy it.”

“But you did destroy it,” Snape reminded him.

Dumbledore nodded. “And at such a cost. I may not live long enough to find the next one.”

“Sir, if you just give me more time, I’m sure I can find something to stop the effects of the curse, maybe even reverse it.” There was desperation in his voice that Snape hated the sound of.

“If I were younger and we had unlimited time, maybe,” the old wizard said. “But we have neither. No, Severus, I would rather that you put your energies elsewhere. And unfortunately I still have many things to do before I can go.”

He began a slow rise from the chair he occupied. Bracing his good hand on the chair arm, it seemed as though the man’s legs might not comply. Snape hurried over to assist.

“If the challenge is yours, Severus, it allows us much more power than Voldemort realizes. When and how will be very crucial.”

“Do you think the Dark Lord would allow anyone that kind of control?” Snape asked, anxiety and anger creeping back into his voice. “Whomever he assigns this task will be at his mercy. If it is not fulfilled to his specifications, then they too will suffer the same fate as you, if not worse.”

Dumbledore turned to look at Snape’s scowling, hard face. He again lapsed into a calm smile and rested his good hand on Snape’s arm.

“I know you always thought that James Potter and Sirius Black were my favorites,” he began. “And I won’t deny that they were special in my heart. But I had to worry about them and never felt sure they would find their way out of their own trouble. I never gave you the same attention, Severus, because you were always stronger and more clever and resilient than any of them. My love for you was always based in respect and admiration for all that you overcame and for the fact that you never needed me until that one time.”

Snape felt uncomfortable and embarrassed hearing these words from the Headmaster, even though they were the things he had needed to be reassured of since he was a child. He found himself unable to keep the stare between them unbroken.

“This isn’t something I could have ever asked of James, or Sirius, or even Harry. This is something that I could only trust to you.”

It felt as though Snape’s voice had left him and what came from his mouth wasn’t discernable as his own when he choked out another weak protest. “Don’t make me, sir.”

“It will be the last thing I ever ask of you, and then you will be free.” The man reached up and clasped his hand to Snape’s pale cheek.

“I’ll never live to see freedom,” he replied solemnly.

“Then let freedom be my last promise to you.” Dumbledore removed his hand and began to move away toward the stairs. “I’m very tired, Severus, as I’m sure are you. I believe a good rest is in order for us both. The new year is hardly a few weeks away, and I don’t even have a new…” He stopped and turned to look at Snape.

Suddenly an ominous realization came over Snape, and he felt himself unconsciously backing away from Dumbledore.

“How about taking a crack at Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?” the old wizard asked with as much informality as if he were inquiring if Snape wanted milk with his tea.

In all the years past, Snape would have lunged at the phrase and nearly fallen over himself in gratitude to accept the offer. Now, he cowered from the words still hanging in question before him.

“I think it’s time. And I can think of no one else for the job, but I can think of someone I might be able to persuade to take on Potions,” Dumbledore continued.

Snape’s first thought was of Madame Collins, and he almost protested when the Headmaster answered with, “Slughorn.”

Mutely, Snape nodded. It was obvious that he was being placed on the fast track out of Hogwarts and free society. He might as well go out with one meager consolation.

“Consider it a small token of my gratitude,” Dumbledore said as he began a slow climb of the stairs.

“Isn’t it more fitting to call it what it actually is? Another nail for my coffin.” Snape’s words came out bitter and sharp.

The man on the stairs stopped and turned. “I’ll keep my promise, if you keep yours.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.” Another fair smile touched the old man’s lips before he continued his journey to the main floor and out of the house.

Snape stayed where he was for several moments before he gave in to the feeling of complete physical and mental exhaustion and sat in the chair that Dumbledore had relinquished. A tickling sensation brushed his cheek, and when Snape reached to wipe it away, he found a salty dampness on his fingers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hearing that Draco Malfoy was now the intended assassin of Dumbledore would almost have been a relief if Snape hadn’t felt so piteously sorry for the boy. After learning of his father’s imprisonment after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic, young Malfoy had raged and screamed that he would take the place of his fallen father amongst the Death Eaters in order to avenge him and exact punishment upon Harry Potter. Snape had witnessed the initiation with a twist of dread in his gut. The boy had a look of sickened shock on his face until the branding of the Mark on his arm contorted his features in pain. Afterward, Draco had exchanged a look of resigned fear with his mother as he accepted others’ congratulations.

He could only imagine what the look must have been on the boy’s face when he was informed that his first duty as a Death Eater would be to bring down the most powerful wizard in the world. It was almost a joke amongst the rank and file. They would have even laughed if it hadn’t been so tragic in its design. The boy was a pawn to be sacrificed in order to punish Lucius Malfoy for his failings at the Ministry. When Snape was told it was his job to make sure the boy succeeded, he was sure it meant that the job would fall to him when Draco failed. It looked as though there was no escaping Dumbledore’s last wishes after all.

Narcissa Malfoy at his feet, begging for his pledge to protect her son at any cost was a most interesting turn of events. Snape wished that Lucius could see the desperation in his wife’s eyes. And, what was that? Could it be a slight hope that Snape would demand payment in flesh for his services? A wicked little fantasy involving the gratitude of both the proud sisters of the most noble house of Black crept into his mind as he heard Narcissa’s pleas and felt Bellatrix’s glare of contempt and envy.

His Vow completed, Snape felt no less condemned than before. But sharing the burden seemed to make him feel less lonely. However, it was news Dumbledore found quite unsettling. He ordered Snape to spare Draco the obligation of becoming a murderer at the tender age of seventeen. The old wizard said that every effort must be made to ensure that Draco would fail in his duty and that the charge would fall to Snape. Though he did agree with Dumbledore that the young man’s pride was misplaced and leading to a life of horrible misfortune, Snape hardly wished to be sacrificed in his place. Once again, he was alone in his miserable battle of survival, doomed to fail and become a victim of his own outstanding debts.

However, Draco was not interested in Snape’s help. When Snape had attempted to speak with him about his plans and offer assurance and suggestions, the young man had turned cold, hard eyes to him and announced that he could do it all himself. He even had the audacity to accuse Snape of wanting the take the glory from him to remain in the Dark Lord’s favor. Being all too aware of the stubborn resolve of a young ego, Snape didn’t press him. Draco was following the Dark One’s plan completely unaware.

Back at Hogwarts Snape prepared for the new year with dread. He had tossed Wormtail from his house and locked the door behind them both, claiming he cared not where the rat went or what the Dark Lord said. Snape would not leave anyone unsupervised in his home during his absence. Wormtail muttered something about loyalty and abuse, then morphed into his honest rodent form to skittered away for refuse bins unknown.

At first Snape stood in his office trying to figure out where to start when he remembered he was teaching a whole different course this year. The idea of moving his entire office and living chambers to the one connected to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was too daunting to even imagine. Dumbledore allowed him to stay in familiar surroundings and placed Slughorn elsewhere.

Seeing the corpulent old Potions wizard again was curious. Snape had never been a favorite student of Slughorn’s though he had out-performed most anyone in his class. It was his lack of connections, famous family, or natural charm that left him out of the nauseating little gatherings referred to as the Slug Club. Even now, Slughorn seemed hardly impressed with the man who had held his former position for fifteen years. They exchanged a few formal words before the round codger waddled off to firmly plant his nose up Dumbledore’s ass.

Escorting a very late Hero Potter into the school and deducting house points before the feast even began helped improve Snape’s mood. The boy’s loathing of him had only intensified after Sirius Black’s death, and Snape didn’t find it surprising nor disturbing in the least to have never made friends with “The Chosen One.” He actually anticipated another year of battles and detentions ahead. If Snape had remained in Potions, Potter wouldn’t be an issue because he didn’t make the O.W.L. required for the upper level study. But he had managed an O in his Defense Against the Dark Arts final and would probably assume himself to be the star pupil. A happy sneer spread over Snape’s face when he thought of the shock Potter would suffer when he realized it would be him teaching the class this year.

The announcement of his reassignment as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was met with very mixed reviews. The Slytherins cheered, and Harry Potter pitched a predictable fit right on the spot. Snape didn’t know whether to laugh or order detention. Over at the Ravenclaw table, a tall, slender, black-haired beauty sat with her mouth open in shock. The horrified look didn’t leave her face all night.

A pounding on his office door not long before curfew came as no surprise. He opened the door and gave Davindra a look of bored annoyance. Her alarmed expression had now hardened into anger.

“How could you do this?” she asked incredulously as she stomped passed him into the office.

Snape remained cool as he closed the door and went back to the books he was still poring over for the next week’s lesson plan.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Miss Collins,” he said with total disinterest.

She stood wide-eyed and rigid. “Defense Against the Dark Arts? You’re a Potions master! You can’t change now.” Her words were desperate and heated. “This is my last year. And after all I went through so I could come back here for my last year. Now you just change classes like a pair of socks?”

Snape rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “Oh, for God’s sake, I didn’t run off and join the circus,” he snapped in reply. “I’m still right here, teaching a class that you still have to take. Professor Slughorn was my own instructor in Potions during my time here. He has a total of fifty years teaching experience, which makes him more than adequate for the job. I don’t see what has your tail in such a twist. ”

“But Potions was ours!” she announced with exasperation.

“Excuse me?” Snape looked up from his books with an eyebrow cocked in surprise.

Davindra sighed and placed her hand against her forehead as she began a pace of his room. She seemed to wilt under an invisible weight before she continued in a much calmer voice.

“It was my passion. It and you. I haven’t separated the two in seven years, and I can’t imagine doing it now.”

He hid a smirk before he replied. “Flattering as that is, Miss Collins, I can assure you that I and the art of potion making are exclusive of each other. You needn’t have one to find the other.”

“But I don’t want one without the other,” she said softly as she approached him. “You’re the best there is in most anything that is important to me. How could I accept anyone else?” Her hands slid around his shoulders, and he felt her face press into his hair and against his neck.

A familiar excited tingle began in his stomach as he wrestled with what to do next: throw her on the table and enact what he had fantasized about every night for weeks, or push her away with some vague excuse of promises and self-restraint.

Her fingers in his hair and her lips at his ear were making it hard for him to logically choose.

“Davindra,” he finally managed, taking her hands from his body, “you have to stop this. It’s over.”

“Oh, you stop.” She laughed playfully at his rebuke and attempted to again take her place against him.

“I mean it,” he said more forcefully as he gripped her shoulders with arms locked to keep her from touching him. “I always said that if anyone found out, it would be over. Several people know. So it’s over.”

She looked at him with disbelieving, pale eyes. “Only my family knows,” she assured him with an uneasy smile. “No one here knows. We aren’t in any danger of being discovered here.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Snape used his coldest voice to convey a bleak statement that he found he didn’t have total faith in. “I said if anyone knew. Three people know. Three people who have threatened my job, my freedom, and even my body parts if I come near you again. I’m not stupid enough to tempt that.”

He walked away from her to return some books to his shelves and try to gather some clarity about how to spend the next year rejecting a very persistent, clever, salaciously beautiful girl who wanted nothing but to adore and please him.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Davindra said in exasperation. “I can’t believe you are letting them frighten you.”

Snape turned. “And who was it that was afraid her grandmother was trying to drug her and keep her prisoner?”

“And she was! But who was it that said he was a grown man and could take care of himself in any situation?” she tossed back snidely.

“Something you haven’t learned about being an adult is knowing when to challenge and when to back down. This just isn’t worth the risk.”

“You lie,” she said with bitter contempt. Her eyes bore into him in accusing scrutiny.

Snape gave her a threatening glare as he slowly approached. “I do hope that you are not implying that I am weak in my convictions, Miss Collins. Choosing one’s battles carefully is not the same as… cowardice,” he spat out the last word with revulsion.

As usual, even his harshest words failed to crack her ardent tenacity. She glared back in challenge. There was a heavy, measured silence between them for several moments as they stared one another down. It was becoming tiring and rather dull when Snape finally consented.

“I never said that I would enjoy giving up the pleasure of your company,” he finally uttered. “But however desirable you are, I cannot justify sacrificing my employment and reputation for it. It’s an unfortunate circumstance, but we knew going in that this was a tenuous endeavor. We can’t be surprised that the end came so soon.”

“Well, at least you are now admitting that you like it,” she said with a bitter edge.

Snape backed away with a sneer and continued with his thumbing of a book. “Would you even believe me if I said I faked all my orgasms,” he said flippantly.

“Considering that I’ve seen your eyes roll back in your head on more than one occasion, no, I wouldn’t buy it,” she answered with equal sarcasm as she moved closer.

“And there were times you came so hard I feared you were in the throes of a seizure,” he replied with slow coolness.

Again, Snape felt her hands caress his shoulders. “And you want to give all that up?” Her voice brushed against his ear in a throaty whisper.

Actually, Snape deeply resented the idea that he would have to give up the one luxury he allowed himself. The one thing that took away his thoughts and worries, even if only for a while. This time he didn’t push her away as her fingers began a soft stroking of his hair, though he told himself it was dangerous to allow her to touch him. Her hand traveled his chest, stroking past the buttons on his jacket and wiggling her way into the spaces in between to scratch at the shirt underneath.

“It was an impossibly long month and a half,” she spoke again, her words tickling the inside of his head. “I never agreed to end this relationship, Severus. So I break no promises by doing this.”

She turned his face toward her and kissed him in an open, wet, sensuous way that almost took his knees out from under him. His body responded without consideration and immediately they were pressed together in a clenching, mauling embrace. When he had agreed to end his involvement with Davindra, he had forgotten that she was nearly impossible to resist when she exerted the slightest effort for his attention. He had foolishly assumed that she would honor her mother’s wishes after being rescued from Madame Collins and allowed to resume her schooling. It was a stupid assumption and he knew better. But the demands of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord had pressed many reasonable thoughts from his mind.

Davindra pushed him down into his chair and crawled onto him to straddle his lap. The frenzied kisses continued as Snape felt her guide his hand into her open blouse and inside her bra to grasp the warm flesh underneath. She moaned at his touch and pressed her body closer to grind against his rapidly hardening erection. In an insatiable hunger, he pulled her clothing away to reveal the pale mound with its delicate pink nipple and set his mouth upon it with ravenous delight.

He wasn’t sure which broke him from his enthusiastic application. It might have been the sound of his door opening, or the gasp that came not from Davindra, or perhaps just the sensation that they were no longer alone. Snape looked up to find Draco Malfoy standing in his doorway with a look of disgusted shock on his face. For a few frozen seconds, the three of them stared at one another in equal horror. Davindra tried to cover herself but not before Snape had shoved her from his lap, and neither moved quicker than Draco who bolted from the room.

Snape took off at a run to catch the sprinting boy, calling after him to stop. If he made it back to the Slytherin common room, there would be no talking with him. Drawing his wand, Snape commanded, Incarcerous, and magical ropes shot forward to wrap around the boy’s legs, bringing him down to the hard stone floor with a thud.

Draco struggled to free himself, but Snape got to him first, grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him to a standing position against the wall. Both of them panted for air after their chase.

“What happened to knocking, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked in breathless ferocity.

Draco wouldn’t meet his eyes but held a snarl of scorn on his face. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d have company.” He said the last word with malice, as though speaking it polluted his tongue.

“It wouldn’t be any of your business if I did nor who that company may be,” Snape hissed threateningly.

“Then why act so guilty?” The boy finally met his eyes with challenge. “Or don’t you have all your students serve their detention on your lap?”

Snape jabbed his wand into the soft, fleshy pallet under Draco’s chin causing the boy to wince and look fearful.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy?” There was snide contempt in his voice. “Jealous?”

“Hardly, since I was the one who dropped her. I could always do better than a Mudblood. But what about you?” A twisted little smile started on the boy’s pale face. “Can’t find women your own age?”

“I have no reason to justify myself to you,” he spat in reply. “Especially since I am going to Obliviate this whole nasty incident from your memory.”

Just as he was raising his wand, Draco interrupted.

“There’s no need, you know. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.” Despite his words, his tone was still acidic. “I mean, it would be pretty stupid of me to get you thrown out of Hogwarts now. I don’t think the Dark Lord would appreciate it much.”

It was a valid argument. And it wasn’t as though Snape didn’t have his own leverage to keep the boy in line. One word from him and the Dark Lord would give Draco a fate much worse than that his father suffered.

“And how am I supposed to trust that?” Snape asked cautiously.

“I give you my word as a Death Eater,” he replied with an obvious pride.

Foolishly the boy believed there was honor and nobility in a Death Eater’s word. Snape smirked at the absurdity.

“And will you even be able to keep your emotions clear and unaffected for the task at hand if I allow you this knowledge?” Snape pressed.

“Why should I care who you fuck?” There was a serrated edge to the words Draco spat at him, which said that the boy did care.

“Language, Mr. Malfoy,” he said smoothly. “If you didn’t care, why did you run like you’d just been hexed?”

“You think I want to stay around and watch someone as old as my father molesting one of my old girlfriends?” he replied, his lip curled in disgust.

“Pity, you might have learned something,” Snape said with a wicked smirk as he backed away and took the rope hex off of Draco’s legs.

“I will allow you to keep your memory on this. But I do warn you, if you dare cross me, I will make sure that the Dark Lord hears some very disappointing news in regards to your progress here at Hogwarts.” He narrowed his eyes into a chilling scrutiny. “Keep your word and I will help you in your task, and there will be great reward in the end for you and your whole family.”

“I don’t need your help.” Draco snarled back as he shoved his way free from Snape’s cornering. “I’ll bring honor to my family and my father’s freedom on my own. I’ll keep your dirty little secret, but not because you threatened me. But because I won’t gain anything by squealing.”

The boy stalked off down the deserted hall to the Slytherin quarters and left Snape glowering after him before he too returned to his office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Although there was an invigorating rush in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Snape had trouble letting go of his claim on Potions. Slughorn was back to his old habit of fawning over certain students and had resurrected his little ass-kissing club. And strangely enough, now Harry Potter, who would not have even been allowed in Snape’s upper level Potions class, was Slughorn’s top student. Snape’s tea nearly went up his nose when the old Potions master informed him of the perfect specimens of brewing the boy was turning out.

“Potter? Harry Potter?” Snape pressed in shock.

“Oh, yes, an amazing talent,” the man’s beady eyes twinkled in his fat face. “Must have gotten it from his mother.” He then gave a chuckle.

Snape returned a scowl. Lily Evans had been his nemesis in Potions. His work was often superior, but perhaps the fact that he didn’t have flashing green eyes and an effervescent wit made him so easy to overlook.

“But I can’t seem to get that Potter boy to come to my little gatherings,” Slughorn continued. “You may remember the Slug Club?”

Snape gave him a narrowed look of contempt. “Vaguely.”

“Oh, well, just a little get-together of similar minds. Harry would be a perfect addition. But it seems this time he says he has detention with you. Now, I can’t imagine what the fine boy could have done to warrant such a thing. You don’t suppose you could put it off for a night and let him enjoy a little refreshment and camaraderie, do you?” There was jovial challenge in the man’s voice, which Snape found insulting.

“Hardly. I’ve already had to give him one reprieve for his flagrant disrespect in my class. He won’t be getting another. I’m afraid your little party will have to go on without him,” Snape ended with a patronizing sneer.

“Oh, well, that is such a shame,” Slughorn said with a furrowed brow. “He’s always a perfectly behaved lad in my class. But do you know who else I cannot persuade to join our group,” he pressed on in continued cheer, “is that mesmerizing little Ravenclaw, Davindra Collins.”

Reflexively, Snape’s eyebrows went up when he heard that Slughorn was trying to recruit Davindra into his clan and that she was resisting.

“I hear she is a bit of a pet project of yours, you being so close to Demelza Collins and all,” Slughorn continued, unaware of Snape’s obvious revulsion in his company. “She’s quite clever, though. But I’m afraid I’m having a bit of a hard time winning her over from your ways of teaching. She keeps reminding me of how Professor Snape did things.”

He smirked. ‘My little pet indeed. I’ll have to remember to reward her loyalty.’

“Miss Collins is rather a loner. I doubt she would be much interested in joining any groups,” he said casually. “She’s always been a studious, determined girl not prone to frivolous engagements or insipid fraternizations. Pressing her will only make her more stubborn on the fact. I would invest my efforts elsewhere, if I were you.”

Snape gave Slughorn a quick, slight smile, then turned to leave him with mouth agape and thoughts confused as to if he had truly been insulted or not.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After being caught by Draco Malfoy, Davindra had been less insistent in her affections. Though Snape had assured her that Malfoy would keep quiet under threat of retaliation, she still seemed anxious. Personally, Snape didn’t wish for any more close calls either. That one had been enough to take years off his rapidly decreasing life span. So, though she did frequent his office for short periods, no physical intimacies had been exchanged. But Snape felt the tension building in them both. The glances got longer and more intense and the attempts to find reasons to touch were almost embarrassing in their ludicrousness. He resigned himself to the idea that in the near future, he would crack, and the relationship would resume with as much uninhibited passion, if not more, than before.

N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts required that each student take on a research project for the year that would ultimately coincide with their career choice after school. Snape set up private meeting times for the student to discuss their ideas for the project. A sign-up sheet outside his door listed the times that he was available and each student was responsible for choosing a time and showing up. It was unsurprising to see that Davindra chose the last time slot available right before the dinner hour. No doubt she was wanting to monopolize his attention for as long as possible.

After hearing some painfully inane and completely undeveloped ideas on projects, Snape was about to start on the bottle of Firewhisky that occupied the lowest drawer on his desk when Davindra came into his office without knocking.

Too busy massaging his temples to even scold her, he just allowed her to roam about the room as usual as he prepared to hear her idea.

“Rough day, Professor?” she asked with a knowing smile.

His answer was a dark look and continued pressure to his throbbing head. Suddenly Davindra was behind him, her fingers firmly pressing into the tight muscles of his shoulders and working her way up his neck.

“What are you doing?” He attempted to sound annoyed, but the groan of relief took all the sting out of his words.

“Sounds like you’re a little tense,” her voice purred into his ear. “Granny Lilly taught me some Shiatzu techniques to get rid of headaches.”

Her precise kneading went up his neck to the base of his skull, then back down his shoulders, around his shoulder blades and down his spine, focusing on certain acupressure points that nearly made him jump from his seat. It was heavenly to simply let his body give in to her skilled fingers.

“If you can talk while you do this, we can kill two birds with one stone,” he said as his head rolled to the side and he let his eyes close.

“The idea for my project?”

“Mmmm.”

“Well, I thought I would research and document the long term effects of the Imperius Curse.”

His eyes flew open. “What?”

“Granny Lilly knows someone at St. Mungo’s who is studying some of the patients in Ward 49 who have had long term exposure to the Imperius Curse. If I can get permission to visit St. Mungo’s just a few times to meet with him, he will give me some of his research which I can use in my project and hopefully develop some new theories of my own. After I’m done at Hogwarts, he said there might be a place for me in my apprenticeship in his research group.”

As she spoke she had become very enthused and her fingers punched and pinched his flesh too hard. Snape moved away from her hands.

“That sounds like very advanced work, Miss Collins. Are you sure you could handle that with all of your other upper level class projects?” Indeed her idea was the most complex but also the most well thought out he had heard all day.

“I think so,” she said coming to sit on the end of his desk facing him. “My other class projects are much simpler. This one could actually help me in my career as a Healer. I mean, what if I actually got published before I finished my N.E.W.T. levels?” There was new excitement in her eyes as she pondered future fame.

Snape’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her long legs as she sat before him, her knees slightly parted and her skirt half way up her bare thighs.

“You’re expecting a lot from this, it seems. But I caution you,” he said, “research is exhausting, thankless work. Though it is an admirable endeavor for your N.E.W.T. project, I wouldn’t expect to hang your entire career upon it.” Again his eyes went to the inside of her knee and up her pale thigh into the dark terrain under her skirt.

Davindra seemed to notice his distraction for she scooted closer down the desk until she was nearly in front of him and raised her foot to rest on his chair, giving him an almost unobstructed view of her cotton panties. Snape felt his mouth go dry.

“I appreciate the concern, but I think I can handle it.” Her voice was annoyingly calm. “If I can get permission from Professor Dumbledore to do the day trips to St. Mungo’s, will you support my project?”

“I suppose I would have to agree to it if you got Professor Dumbledore’s permission.” His voice was thick and his mind suddenly clouded. He could not pull his gaze away from the sight before him. And perhaps he was imaging it, but he was almost sure he could even smell her arousal as she continued the bawdy display.

Lifting her foot from the chair so the loafer could drop to the floor, Davindra then squirmed her toes in between Snape’s legs to nestle against his crotch. He found himself stroking her slender calf as her foot pumped against his already hard and hot erection.

“So, I hear you’re not interested in joining the Slug Club,” he said as his fingers delicately slid their way up her leg to the inside of her thigh.

She scooted closer, opening her legs more. “No, Slughorn’s a bombastic old wind-bag. He doesn’t teach a bad class, but he lacks your style and intelligence. And the way he falls all over himself around some of the students is just pathetic. All anyone would have to do is offer him the right bribe and they wouldn’t have to lift a finger in Potions class to receive a passing grade.”

Snape couldn’t suppress a slight chuckle at her quick and correct evaluation of the hedonistic old goat as the knuckles of his hand brushed against the warm, moist fabric of her underwear. Her breath caught softly.

“Grandmother always said that if he hadn’t been such a glutton, he might have been a great Potions master. But then again, she wouldn’t have had a job teaching if he had known any self control,” she went on, though with a slight moan behind her words.

But she groaned audibly as he caressed his thumb in small circles over the slight nub behind the fabric.

“I appreciate your loyalty to my teaching style, but Professor Slughorn will offer a valuable alternative view of many things.” Snape placed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh causing her legs to move even wider apart and her back to arch. Finding the edge of elastic, he slipped his finger inside and was instantly met with slick, wet heat that made them both sigh with pleasure. “Although, I will say that Madame Collins was the true influence in my pursuit of my Potions education.”

“Why was that?” Davindra gasped as Snape plied her inner thigh with more kisses and strokes of his tongue and his fingers entered the tight confines of her body.

“She wasn’t impressed with pure-blood or charm. She only appreciated raw talent,” he said against the white flesh of her open legs. “She encouraged me to pursue my interests whether they be dark or light, as long as they were relevant.”

“That sounds like her.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “And you also.”

The agonizing game they were play was beginning to tear at the edges of his sanity. Grabbing the sides of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. She raised her hips to allow the progress. Once free, Snape dragged her to the edge of the desk and sat before her open body, staring down into the crux of his obsession, the dominion of his desires.

“Just remember to ward the door this time,” she said with a jesting lilt.

Snape raised his eyes to give her a sardonic look from between her knees, but did take his wand to the door and secured it against intruders.

When he finally set his mouth upon her, he found himself dripping with as much wet anticipation as she. Hungrily he gorged upon her essence until she clawed at his forearms and emitted a trembling cry of release.

She lay across his desk, awaiting his entrance into her. Snape could hardly get himself exposed before she began pulling him on to her, wanting his pleasure to mingle with her own. Deep in his mind he had always had the fantasy of having her this way, and he let his imagination soak up all the sensations around and in him to give life to an illusion he knew would sustain him for years to come.

His orgasm was quickly reached, and he grabbed the far edge of the desk to assist in the last few powerful drives of completion. After delirious, dizzying waves of pleasure finished shooting through his body, he lay against her, struggling for breath and focused thought.

Davindra remained silent except for her own slowing breaths. Her legs stayed locked around him, her hands still traveling his back and through his hair. When enough energy returned to extract themselves from one another, Snape realized they had just enacted their lust on top of the fifth-years’ essays and ruined over half of them.

He cursed and she giggled. A flick of his wand repaired the damage; another cleaned them both of the excessive mess.

“Honestly, Miss Collins,” Snape said as he straightened his clothes and she searched for her underwear beneath the desk. “I guess you don’t have the heart of a Slytherin after all.”

“Oh?” her curious voice came from below.

“If you did, then you would have waited until I was inside you to ask for my support of your project,” he replied mundanely.

She stood, her found panties clutched in her hand. “Oh, Professor, I know your buttons. Did you think I was giving you the free show up my skirt for no reason?”

He gave a twisted smirk. “I stand corrected. That Sorting Hat has lost its touch, I believe.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A bitter fall day found Snape alone in his office, wishing he had asked for Davindra to skip the Hogsmeade trip and spend the afternoon in bed with him. They had not had a leisure day of that nature since the previous year. He found he missed the companionship as well as the sex to occupy his time. Especially now that his quiet hours were spent in miserable contemplation of his newest tasks. He had to protect and guide a young man who would barely talk to him and ignored all requests of meeting, as well as kill the most admired and respected wizard in the entire wizarding world. Even if he managed to survive those duties, then his life wouldn’t be worth a leprechaun’s Knut. He was about to find the biggest bottle of poison he owned and down the entire thing when Filch appeared at his door with a strange necklace and a story about a student being put under a terrible curse.

The necklace was familiar, and after a few moments thought, he recognized it as a cursed piece that had resided at Borgin and Burkes. After more of the story surfaced, it was obvious that this was Draco’s pathetic attempt to kill Dumbledore. Not only was the Dark magic on the necklace easily detected, but the plan of getting it to the Headmaster was sloppy and now involved an innocent student as well as witnesses.

Snape’s attempt to find Draco and talk reason to him was met with sullen obstinance. His voice of concern and warning was only met with disrespect and acrimony. In the few short, quiet words they exchanged, Draco refused to admit to any involvement with Katie Bell’s unfortunate accident. He swore an alibi for the entire day. However that alibi was Crabbe and Goyle, who were known to sell their souls for peanuts if told to do so.

Snape was left with going to the only other person he could speak frankly with, Dumbledore.

“So you think this was Draco’s work?” the old wizard asked casually of the plot to end his life.

“I’m afraid so,” Snape replied miserably. “I don’t know what distresses me more. The fact that he’s actually attempting to go through with it or that he is doing such an appallingly pathetic job of it. You would have felt the curse on this piece from across the room.”

“I’m sorry my demise is not going better for you,” Dumbledore spoke with a mischievous smile.

Snape rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he snapped. “And this isn’t funny. “

The Headmaster chuckled. “I do know what you mean, and it isn’t humorous that a boy’s life hangs in the balance of my fate. For I fear it isn’t a fair exchange. Can’t you talk with him?”

“He won’t answer my summons, he will hardly speak to me in the halls,” Snape recounted with annoyance. “I can’t make him accept my help. He is being stubborn and willful. And I’m afraid it will only be his downfall in the end.”

“You have to keep an eye on him somehow. Keep him from making any more stupid mistakes that could cost a lot more than just one life.” Dumbledore mindlessly toyed with the withered hand that rested on the desk.

“How is it doing?” Snape asked, motioning to the dead appendage.

The old man sighed and shook his head, though he attempted a smile. “Not well. It’s advancing.”

With that, he raised his sleeve to show that the dead tissue had risen to midway up his forearm.

“You’re taking the potion I gave you?” Snape asked accusingly.

“Of course. But I told you, Severus, I don’t think this can be stopped. However, I believe I have found a way to turn my destruction into a powerful weapon against Lord Voldemort. Ancient magic is often dismissed as ineffective in modern times.” Dumbledore smiled at Snape’s confused look, but expressed no more on the topic. “But as far as this,” he said holding up the blackened hand, “it’s just a matter of time before it devours me whole. Neither you nor Draco may need to fulfill any trusts at this rate.”

“We could only be so lucky,” Snape said bitterly. “Sir, you only need a stronger dosage. I’ll make one up as soon as possible. Take it three times a day instead of two,” he said, standing up and starting for the door. “And don’t argue that it won’t do any good, for I’m certain it may be the only thing keeping you from withering into a shriveled fig before my very eyes.”

He left the office with a new task to set his mind on instead of the gnawing issues that clutched and clawed at his brain every waking hour.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Despite what one might believe, being called to the feet of the Dark Lord was not a common occurrence. The master did not like being constantly surrounded by his groveling, scraping underlings and actually hated having an audience. He preferred the silent sanctuary of his own thoughts and plans, the only exception being the snake, Nagini. Usually one was only called when there was an assignment at hand or a punishment to be administered. Both good reasons to fear the call of the Dark Mark.

Most of Snape’s rendezvous to the Dark headquarters at the abandoned orphanage were to meet with other Death Eaters to exchange information and keep each other updated on activities, spies, and recruits. It was also during this time that Snape heard the most valuable gossip. Though many might believe that Snape was the most trusted servant of the master, Snape himself did not delude himself with the thought that he knew all that happened or that would happen. Doing his own part to keep himself informed was what made him appear far more powerful than he actually was. It was a crafty illusion he let everyone believe.

However, hearing of a valuable, long-planned weapon being resurrected was an uncomfortable surprise to Snape. The first he heard of it was in vague whispers amongst some of the long-time members and even they possessed scant details. All that could be gathered was that it was old, dark magic that would ensure the Dark Lord’s health and strength, rendering him undefeatable. It was only known as “the Vessel.” Other gossip said that Lucius Malfoy had known the most about it. But he languished in Azkaban, unable to provide any answers. Knowing what an unadulterated bragger Malfoy was, Snape found it hard to believe that if Malfoy had known anything about a secret weapon, he would have been able to keep quiet about it.

Assuming that the Vessel had something to do with the Horcruxes that Dumbledore was chasing, Snape took the information to him, only to be surprised to find the Headmaster stumped. Research turned up intense amounts of references to “vessels” in ancient, dark text. But none of it seemed likely to have been used by the Dark Lord. They were both left to nervously ponder the mystery.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In spite of all Snape’s predicated vows and stubborn insistence, the consuming relationship between he and Davindra seemed to re-infect them like a familiar plague. It began with the encounter on his desk and continued with no forethought, as though promises otherwise had never been spoken. The next time she had appeared at his door with a sultry shadow in her eye and hands that seemed impatient in their quest to be on him, he hardly bothered with a reproachful word. Instead he greedily partook of her generous affections and administrations. It didn’t even occur to him that he had done something that could have disastrous affects until he lay spent and floating in an exquisite daze. By then it didn’t matter anymore.

However, the intensity of Davindra’s last year at Hogwarts allowed for little in the way of relaxation and free time. Having attained permission for her research topic and day trips to St. Mungo’s, most of her hours were spent poring over books and reports and writing and compiling results. The subject was rather fascinating, Snape had to admit. She eagerly shared her findings with him, gushing quite excessively about Healer Erasmus Jones with whom she was working. Her enthusiasm for the subject and the man was so strong it seemed to cause a physical change in her when she spoke of it. Her eyes would flash and her cheeks would flush. She would almost be breathless at the end of her sentences.

Snape finally asked if she was in love with this Healer Jones. For a moment Davindra stared at him in a dumbfounded way, then burst out laughing.

“He’s Granny Lilly’s age and bald as cauldron,” she said holding her side as amusement over took her.

Snape narrowed his gaze. “With your inclination towards older men, one could never be sure those characteristics would dissuade you,” he said with an attempt to hide jealousy and embarrassment behind stolid words.

After wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes she had crawled into his lap and wrapped her long limbs around him, peppering his neck and face with soft kisses.

“How could I ever love anyone but you?” she said earnestly. “My heart has no room for another.”

He’d grown accustomed to her declarations of love, but he could still never decide how best to respond to them. Though he no longer found them abhorrent or disturbing. In fact, he sometimes even liked to hear affirmation of her devotion to him, though he could in no way reciprocate. But this seemed to not bother her, for her words continued with no encouragement from him.

In his usual way of directing the discussion away from the topic of emotional attachment, Snape asked of Madame Collins. Davindra had reported earlier that her grandmother’s attempts to explain and deny continued through the summer via owls. She had answered just a few because she began to feel guilty. So, a line of communication had opened between them again. But Davindra said she refused all offers of visits or gifts.

The woman still pursued her granddaughter even at Hogwarts. Madame Collins had gone back to very regular letters asking for details of her schooling and projects, as well as reassurance of Snape’s expulsion from her life. Davindra said she answered some but not all of the letters and reassured her grandmother that all was well and that Snape was indeed no longer of interest to her and in fact he was even being a little extra mean.

The idea was humorous though he gave her a derisive lip curl. “Wonderful, now I’ll once again get enraged letters from her chastising my villainous temper. And I have yet to truly show you ‘extra mean.’ Perhaps we should retire to my chambers for a demonstration.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All of the faculty had been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Or rather, everyone was badgered incessantly to be there. Snape attempted every possible way to get out of it, but Slughorn would not take no for an answer or accept any excuse. However, it took on a more interesting appeal when Snape began hearing about the guest list. Several people he might be curious to have a closer look at and perhaps a word with were to be in attendance, including a certain vampire the Dark Lord himself was attempting to court for his allegiance.

Davindra had also gotten an invite, as Slughorn continued his pursuit to have her in his Slug Club. At first, she too had politely refused the offer. But after Snape found that he was indentured to go, he told her she should suffer the same discomforts as him.

“But why?” she had asked. “It’s not like we can be seen together.”

Snape hated to admit he would simply enjoy the sight of her in the same room and knowing she was there.

“I just think it wouldn’t kill you to actually go to one of Professor Slughorn’s soirees of gluttonous excess just to see what they are like,” he had replied coolly. “I’m going out of sheer curiosity myself. If nothing else, think of the fodder for gossip we will have to discuss afterward.”

And it was a most boring, pompous, hedonistic affair. Snape stayed positioned in the corner for as long as possible sipping a glass of mediocre mead and eyeing the various guests. There were several minor wizard celebrities, such as members of a musical group and a few Quidditch players. More interesting was Sanguini, the vampire who looked as disinterested to be there as Snape was.

Davindra had arrived sometime before him and had stayed with a small group of Ravenclaws in the opposite corner. But they had exchanged a knowing look in greeting, though they kept the room’s distance between them.

Snape wasn’t allowed the luxury of remaining a wallflower, for Slughorn eventually pulled him into the melee, dragging him to meet several unnervingly phony, dull people. He was even forced to socialize with Hero Potter and withstand the nauseating praises Slughorn heaped on him. Snape still found it utterly unbelievable that Potter was excelling in a Potions class or that he could ever hope to become an Auror.

But the worst was Draco Malfoy dragged in by Filch, looking like death warmed over and attempting an excuse of party crashing. Several times before, Malfoy had been caught out at odd hours, but he would never divulge what he was up to. Snape just knew it had to do with the task the boy was assigned. However, he had issued a warning. If Malfoy were to get caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, he could end up in a great deal of trouble, even expelled. If that happened, there would be no end to the misery he would receive from the Dark Lord.

A private word with the boy revealed no more than the now usual hostility and, Snape believed, panic. Still he refused Snape’s help, nor would he confide what he was doing. Dumbledore was being extremely forgiving of Malfoy’s transgressions, but he couldn’t ignore something as big as a student’s death or worse if the boy continued to be sloppy and arrogant. After their brief and frustrating exchange, Snape went back to the party and Malfoy disappeared, probably to sulk and stew in angst.

During his absence, it appeared that Sanguini had gotten loose of his escort, Eldred Worple, and now had Davindra off to himself. He was staring down at her intently, his lips barely moving in a continuous stream of quiet words. Davindra seemed both fascinated and fearful, though her own eyes appeared hazy in their focus.

Snape approached and laid a hand on Davindra’s shoulder to distract her from the vampire’s hypnosis. She jumped from his touch but then turned to look at him with a grateful expression. Sanguini looked mildly displeased.

“Sanguini,” Snape bowed slightly to the tall, gaunt man. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but it’s getting late and I believe Miss Collins should be returning to her tower. And I’m sure Mr. Worple is wondering what happened to his guest.”

“It IS getting late,” she piped in with relief. “It has been a pleasure, Mr. Sanguini.” She gave him a polite smile and nod, then turned to go.

Snape manage to whisper, “My chambers,” as she passed, which she acknowledged with a meaningful look. He not only had a keen interest in what exactly Sanguini had been saying to her, but a bit of quiet company sounded good after all this exhausting socializing.

He had turned to leave himself when the vampire’s smooth, vaguely foreign voice caught him.

“She is an interesting young woman.”

Snape turned and gave an arched eyebrow over an expression of mild curiosity. “Indeed, she is. And what exactly about her sparked your interest, besides the obvious?” he couldn’t help but add.

Sanguini smiled. “I am always drawn to people who exude a certain quality. Perhaps it is confidence or self-awareness mixed with a keen intuitive intelligence.” He sucked in a wet sounding breath as if savoring the flavor of his own words. “I can find them in any crowd. And I have an insatiable desire to discover what impassions and propels them.”

“So would you call yourself a consumer of energies rather than blood?” Snape asked coolly, not exactly feeling fear but a distinct uneasiness.

Again he broke into a smile that showed the barest glimpse of sharp canines behind red lips. “I can find blood anywhere. The essence of the spirit is much more rare and savory.”

As long as the soulless savage kept his fangs out of Davindra, Snape couldn’t have cared less what Sanguini’s taste preference was.

“And what about her interests you?” the vampire suddenly asked with a lingering look of amusement.

“She is a student,” Snape replied tersely. “One of our more talented and promising, I dare say. As well as the granddaughter of a great potion mistress, Demelza Collins.”

“As I thought,” Sanguini said in a velvety tone.

“You know of Madame Collins?” Snape asked.

“Her services were recommended to me. And I must say, she makes an excellent Blood Replenishing Potion.”

“Who recommended her?” Snape’s curiosity grew stronger as they talked.

“A fellow I believe you know by the name of Rodolphus Lestrange.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape walked back to his chambers in a storm of swirling black fabric. His mind was frantically trying to knit together the pieces of information he now knew to create a clear pattern of events and associations. But things still seemed to be missing. There were gaping holes in which nothing fit.

This year he had allowed Davindra passage through the wards on his office and chambers on her own. Their meeting times were often at odd hours, and it was best that no one saw her standing around outside his dungeon waiting for him. It was often a startling yet pleasant surprise to walk in and find her there. He was still trying to get used to the informality they had created with their relationship. Tonight she had already made herself comfortable in his bed, wearing nothing but a seductive smile.

Ignoring her warm greeting and come-hither expression, Snape paced around his sitting area, his thoughts still tumbling upon each other. He stroked his bottom lip in a distracted way, which signaled to Davindra that he was in deep, contemplative thought.

“What’s wrong?” she finally called out, giving up her attempts to lure him into bed.

Snape’s pacing finally stopped behind a chair, and he leaned on it as he took a few moments to gather himself.

“Do you know Rodolphus Lestrange?”

“The Death Eater who escaped from Azkaban?” she asked with some revulsion. “No, of course not.”

“Do you think your grandmother knows him?”

She started to answer, then stopped. Her pale eyes regarded him for a moment, as though her own thoughts were beginning to align with his.

“I don’t know.” Her reply was soft and a little worried.

“Tell me what you and Sanguini talked about,” Snape said as he began removing his robe and coat, though his eyes still stayed on her.”

Davindra pulled her knees up and hugged them to her body. “Nothing of any real importance. He asked about the school, what I studied. I told him some of what my projects were.”

“What was he saying to you when I interrupted?”

Again she began to answer, then stopped with a puzzled look. “I don’t remember. That’s odd. I just remember feeling rather dreamy and uncomfortable.”

“That’s a vampire’s effect,” Snape said impatiently. “You should never let them draw you in like that. A few more moments he might have drained you of blood as quickly as Slughorn was emptying his glass.”

He sat on the bed to tug off his boots, but yet his mind still refused to let go of its broken and scattered thoughts.

“So you wouldn’t have recognized Lestrange if he had come to your grandmother’s house,” he pressed, though he continued with the task of his boots.

“The only people I saw who I didn’t already know were the ones who came that night I told you about. I guess he could have been one of the people. But I told you, they were all wearing hoods and hats.”

“What about Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Davindra shrugged. “I couldn’t tell men from women that time. I thought I heard a man’s voice though.”

Feeling mentally and physically fatigued, Snape let his boots fall to the floor and his face sink into his hands.

“Do you think it’s possible the Lestranges were really in grandmother’s house?” she asked in a soft, anxious voice. “Do you really think they were there asking about me? Death Eaters wanting to know about me?”

Sitting up he looked at her and found her paler than usual and clutching the blanket to her body. Rarely did he ever bother to soften his words when he addressed her. God knew it almost took physical violence to even make her flinch. But there was something about the truly fearful look on her face that made him want to soothe away her worries and proclaim that she was perfectly safe and that he was simply thinking out loud. She would know better, though. When she realized he had lied to her, she’d be even more upset.

“I honestly don’t know. But I suspect there is some connection. Sanguini knew of Madame Collins because she was recommended to him by Lestrange. Until last year he was in Azkaban. I’m not certain where all the pieces fit, but I think your suspicions about your grandmother are only becoming more grounded.”

She took in his words and then nodded silently.

The rest of his clothes were pulled from his body, and Snape fell into bed. But when he turned to Davindra he found her curled onto her side with her back to him, the covers up to her neck.

“If you’re tired, you should go back to your tower,” he said with an edge of bitter disappointment. “The train leaves early tomorrow, perhaps you would like to be well rested.”

“I’m not going.” Her voice came slightly muffled.

“What? Since when? You didn’t sign up to stay.”

She rolled over to face him finally. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to spend my entire Christmas trying to figure out how to avoid Grandmother. I just don’t want to face her right now. Mother and Granny Lilly will understand. They know I have a lot of projects to do.”

Snape settled down into the covers, and she immediately wrapped herself around him.

“If you’re afraid, Davindra, you can tell me,” he said gently as he smoothed the long strands of her hair that pooled upon his chest.

“I’m afraid.”

“I’ll speak with Dumbledore in the morning.”

She turned to look at him and gave a faint smile. And finally she kissed him. Sweet and innocent at first, then with more intensity and abandon. Soon he had what he wanted, and he realized he now had exactly what he had wanted for most of his life, though unattainable he had always believed it to be. For the first time since he was a very small child, Christmas wasn’t looking like such a bleak, pointless distraction.

Madame Potion: Chapter Fifteen (Part II)

2007-04-07T15:37:36Z

Year Six: The Shadows Unravel {continued}

Snape sat on his knees, his nose pressed to the cold wood floor of what was once an orphanage. He could smell the mold, decay, and rodent droppings in its porous texture. For some time he stayed curled into a position of subservience at the feet of his Dark Master, waiting to be told his exaltation was adequate enough so he could rise. But he was kept on the floor as the Dark Lord sat by a dim fire, lovingly fondling the giant snake that wrapped around the chair.

“I do so hate mistakes,” the dark wizard spoke lazily. “You do know how much Lord Voldemort hates mistakes, don’t you, Severus?”

“Yes, my lord, I do know,” Snape’s voice came from the ground.

“And there were so many mistakes made at the Ministry,” he continued in a deceptively calm way. “I think what I hate the most is the waste. Some of my best Death Eaters are again behind the walls of Azkaban. And what of the prophecy? Smashed to pieces, heard by no one. Forever lost to Lord Voldemort.” A melancholy tone seeped into his words as he spoke. “Almost a year of hard work squandered on nothing but defeat.”

Snape dared a glance at the master before him. He saw the pale, corpse-like form reclining in languish, backlit by an eerie red glow. The Dark Lord caught Snape stealing his look and suddenly sat straight in his chair.

“You have not earned the honor of laying eyes upon your master!” he roared at Snape, who quickly tucked his head back to the floor. “There is no reward to be imparted to those who fail me!”

“My lord, I did all you requested of me,” Snape dared from his crouch of submission.

“You did nothing!” the Dark Lord continued. “Your efforts at keeping young Potter’s mind free to me were pathetic! It took months longer than intended because of it. And your alerting the Order only caused more trouble.”

“I’m truly sorry, my lord,” Snape said in earnest. “His Occlumency skills were never strong. I truly believed his curiosity would bring you in sooner. And I waited as long as possible before I contacted the Order members. I believed the group would have completed their task by then.”

“I grow so weary of excuses upon excuses upon excuses!” he again roared. “Crucio!”

A jolt of white hot pain ran the length of Snape’s body and exploded in his head, knocking him completely to the floor. When it mercifully subsided, he lay panting and shaking.

“Oh, it is not all your fault, Severus,” the Dark Lord then continued in a suddenly sympathetic way. “The real thorn in Lord Voldemort’s side is Albus Dumbledore. Without him, my reign would never have ended and my body never broken. It’s him who should be suffering instead of my devoted disciples.” He let out a sigh of mock sorrow. “But I cannot get near him. We would spend the rest of our lives locked in a duel, each blocking the other’s advances and never landing a solid blow. The element of surprise is the only thing that will bring him down.”

Finally back to his knees, Snape’s heart now raced with fear.

“Tell me, Severus, how strong is your dedication to your master?”

“There is no measure to my devotion,” Snape said in a creaking voice. “I will do anything you ask.”

“Will you even take down the one man who saved you from Azkaban and the wrath of the entire wizarding world and employed and housed and trusted you for the past fourteen years?” the Dark Lord asked this with a bit of whimsy in his voice, as though enjoying the possibilities the idea would inspire.

Snape swallowed hard and forced his mind to calm before he spoke. “If that is what my lord asks of me.”

The dark wizard slowly strolled in front of the kneeling man in black. “We shall see, we shall see. There might be another way, but I do like knowing the extent to which I may rely on my servants.” He gave a sickly, wet chuckle. “In the mean time, I have a little task you may do for me. You will take Wormtail into your home. He will be of more help to you than he is here with his simpering, useless bootlicking.”

Snape could not hold back the snarl of revulsion as he said, “But, my lord, I am home so little, I have so many duties with the Order that could be…”

“Do you DARE deny your lord his meager request? Was your pledge just now a lie, my clever Occlumens?” the Dark Lord again raged.

“No, my lord!” Snape insisted. “I will be honored to perform this favor. The details will be mine to arrange.”

“Indeed,” he snapped in return. “Now, go back to your cozy dungeon, Professor Snape, until you are needed again. I will send Wormtail on his way shortly.”

Snape backed out of the room on his hands and knees and did not stand until he was on the other side of the door and could flee the condemned old building as fast as his feet would allow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about this!” Snape paced the length of Dumbledore’s office for the tenth time since his arrival. His story of the Headmaster’s possible demise was met with hardly a shrug of the old wizard’s shoulders.

“Severus, I’ve always known that Voldemort wished me dead and was only steps away from figuring out how to accomplish it.” His voice was as placid as if he were discussing next year’s school curriculum.

“Well, what if his plan is to have me do it?” Snape felt panic at the very words he shouted at Dumbledore.

The man gave another shrug and turn of his hands. “I couldn’t think of a better candidate. You have unlimited access to me, my total confidence, and you would undoubtedly have the knowledge of how to go about it.”

“And then I might as well turn my wand on myself because every decent wizard out there as well as every member of the Order would be demanding my blood,” Snape quipped with snide misery.

“I long ago gave up worrying about my own death for I knew it would come eventually,” Dumbledore said. “I frankly would rather go dramatically than be like Professor Binns, who simply fell asleep by his fire and woke to find himself as the dearly departed yet his existence unchanged.”

“That is all well and fine for you,” Snape reminded him, “but I would prefer my last days to not be spent as a soulless zombie rotting in Azkaban! A quick Killing Curse would be a blessing in that case.”

“Let’s look at this logically, since you are so obviously bothered by it,” the Headmaster began, holding up his hands to calm Snape. “Voldemort has not actually asked you to do anything, yet. I think he mostly wanted to test your loyalty. And if he is honestly looking at ways to get rid of me, then you will probably be the first to know and therefore be able to prepare me and everyone for what is to come. His theory of the element of surprise is, therefore, shot.”

Snape’s agitated pacing began to slow as he let the wizard’s calming words sink in and soothe him.

“And honestly, Severus,” Dumbledore added. “I am an old, old man. My usefulness has almost reached an end. There comes a time in all wizard’s lives when they serve the greater good from the other side.”

Snape stopped and stared at the old man behind the desk. “What are you talking about? You head the strongest organized resistance to the Dark Lord. You alone know the most about him. Only you would know how to defeat him.”

“No, there is another. One who is actually better equipped for the job of dismantling Lord Voldemort from his self appointed throne. One who only needs a bit of faith and knowledge to fulfill any task put before him.”

“You’re not talking about Potter and that damned prophecy, are you?” Snape asked in incredulous irritation. “He’s an impulsive, immature, inexperienced boy. A child who nearly got himself and several of his classmates killed because of his arrogant obstinance.”

“We were all boys once,” Dumbledore said. “Even Tom Riddle. But we have to give Harry credit where credit is due, Severus. What he did was honorable and brave and not even Voldemort himself expected such valor from a mere child. One of Harry’s greatest strengths is that he has been underestimated. Even by me. But I plan to correct that mistake. Before I am thrust out of this world and into the next either by your hand, someone else’s, or even nature’s, I will make sure that Harry is prepared.”

The two men stared at one another with respective looks of confidence and doubt.

With cool reserve, Snape said, “I envy not your endeavor, sir.”

“Nor I yours,” Dumbledore replied.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape was home less than a day when a short, lumpy, nervous form appeared on his front step. Wormtail looked even less thrilled to be there than Snape was to have him. The reluctant cohabitation was not going to be easy. Snape had not lived in such tight quarters with anyone since his mother. But he was under no illusions as to the real reason behind this arrangement. The rat was there to spy on him. It meant that Snape no longer had any sanctuary to retreat to where he could be himself and not be concerned with whom he served and how he acted. The intrusion was far more offensive than the mistrust the Dark Lord had of him.

Snape had awarded Wormtail a small space off the kitchen. It had been a pantry at one point, but had often been used as Tobias Snape’s refuge for sleeping off his excess imbibing. So it was good enough for an unwelcome houseguest.

After showing him around the first floor briefly, Snape then addressed the shifty-eyed rodent.

“Since neither of us is terribly pleased with this arrangement, I suggest we do our best to stay out of each other’s way. And I highly suggest that since you are in MY home, you do nothing to annoy me. Stay out of my room, stay out of the basement, and don’t be poking that twitchy little snout into my personal belongings. I will have everything warded that you are not to bother. And of course, while you are here, you will be doing your share of the work.”

“The Dark Lord did not send me here to be your servant, Snape,” Wormtail spat with indignation.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to spy on me between cleaning and cooking,” Snape replied with biting sarcasm.

Wormtail looked uncomfortable at the accusation but made no denial.

After outlining the chores for the new housemate, Snape then left him to get settled in. As an exit, he delivered a look of warning that Wormtail returned with equal malice though with less assuredness.

After only a few days of listening to the little man’s scurried footfalls, seeing his pinched, stubbly face around every corner, and feeling his beady eyes upon his back, Snape was about ready to physically toss him into the street, the Dark Lord’s orders be damned. If not for fear of his privacy being horribly invaded in his absence, Snape would have fled just to find some peace and quiet.

Then late one evening a knock came at his door. Wormtail was in the kitchen doing Merlin knows what while Snape had been attempting to relax in front of the fire with some reading. The idea at having more intrusions had Snape in a fury before he even reached the doorknob.

He was barely surprised to find Davindra on his porch, wrapped in a black cloak with the hood hiding most of her face. But her pale jade eyes shone through immediately speaking her identity.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with both shock and irritation.

“I had to leave,” she said firmly. “Let me in.”

Snape moved aside with no protest. Wormtail had stepped out of the kitchen to survey the new guest.

“Get back in the kitchen and stay there,” Snape snarled to him. “And if I catch you eavesdropping, I’ll make that tail permanent.”

The man gave him a searing look of contempt but silently disappeared behind the closed door.

“Who was that?” Davindra asked.

“An oversized house-elf,” he replied. “Now what are you doing here? Don’t you know by now that this is the first place your grandmother will look for you?”

“She won’t find me gone until the morning,” she reassured him as she lowered her hood. “I snuck out and left a charm on my bed to make it look like I was still in it. She won’t discover I’m not really there until sometime tomorrow morning.”

“How did you get here?”

“Apparated. I passed my test this past spring.”

“So what made you desperate enough to leave again this time?” Snape asked crossing his arms and looking down his nose at her.

“There is something very wrong happening,” she said wearily, untying her cloak and taking it from her shoulders. “She was drugging me at night. It took me a while to figure it out. I’d be so sleepy, and then I’d go to bed and feel like I’d hardly shut my eyes, and it would be mid-morning the next day. I started to fake drinking the tea she gave me a few nights ago. And then, the other night I heard someone come to the house very late. I snuck downstairs and saw three or four people talking to Grandmother.”

“Who?” Snape demanded, suddenly very intrigued with the events she spoke of.

“I don’t know. They were all wearing black cloaks and hoods or hats. And I couldn’t hear them very well, but I know I heard my name mentioned several times.” Her eyes stared into him fiercely. “I know I heard it. That’s when I decided to go.”

Snape let out a breath of air. “Well, you can’t stay here.” His eyes darted to the kitchen. “I’ll contact Lillyth Sparrow, and if we can’t find her, I’ll talk to Dumbledore.”

He began to walk to the sitting area to find parchment and a pen to begin his letter when her hand on his arm stopped him.

“Just let me stay tonight at least.” Her voice was only slightly pleading, but her eyes were begging.

Stepping closer so he could speak softly, Snape said, “I don’t know that it is much safer here.” Again his eyes went to the kitchen door. Her eyes followed and seemed to understand his meaning.

“Where will I go?” She looked positively lost and hopeless at the prospect of going into the world alone.

He had no answers. Instead he continued on his search of parchment and began his letter to Lillyth Sparrow. As he wrote, she told him of her time at Madame Collins’s home and how, for the first time, she had felt like a prisoner. Madame Collins refused to discuss Davindra’s return to Hogwarts in the fall but neither would she say how she planned for the girl to pass the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams. All she would comment on was the promising future Davindra would have if she would only trust her grandmother. She also refused to allow Davindra to help in any of the potions she worked on, which had always been a point of bonding between them. If Davindra dared to venture outside she said she constantly felt watched and guarded. Her requests to visit the nearby town were all rejected. In fact, Madame Collins said little of anything to her granddaughter, making her feel even more lonely, isolated, and paranoid.

By the time he had procured an owl for delivery and sent it on its way, it was quite late, and Davindra sat in the corner of the couch, her head listing to the side, and her eyes heavy with sleep. Snape knew that he couldn’t with good conscience turn her out, and, deep down, he didn’t want to. The sight of her was strangely comforting and refreshing.

He leaned down over her, his hand bracing his towering form against the sofa arm. Her eyes widened at his closeness.

“One night,” he said softly, “no more. Go upstairs.”

The soft smile that never failed to melt him appeared, and she reached her hands up to take his face and pull him close. He allowed a light kiss to his lips before he moved away.

He watched her climb the stairs behind the bookcase before he headed to the kitchen to find Wormtail still at the table, nursing a bottle of Snape’s Firewhisky. Resisting his possessive urge to reclaim his drink, Snape allowed him to keep sipping in hopes it would soon lull the little pest into a deep sleep.

“We will have a guest for tonight only,” he informed the half drunk rat. “You will not leave this kitchen until tomorrow and until I have managed to straighten out the particular predicament that brought her here.”

Wormtail smiled in a nasty way. “I’m smarter than you think. I know who she is,” he said with slurred words. “And you shouldn’t be diddling where you don’t belong, Severus.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your insipid concerns to yourself,” Snape hissed. “Now go to bed before you pass out.”

Halfway up the stairs Snape spied Davindra standing outside the one door that was obviously his. He had forgotten about the ward he put up to keep Wormtail out. She had watched his ascent with a look of hunger. He stopped in front of her, his body almost brushing against hers. The familiar heat and electricity passed between them, raising a flood of insistent craving inside of him.

Their eyes raked over each other. Their tongues dared to moisten lips that yearned for touch.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathed.

“Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?” he asked as his hand went to her waist.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed.

The desire could be held off no longer, and their mouths found each other with their bodies quickly following. Wet, lush, gluttonous kisses only continued to drive the desire inside them. No matter how deeply he kissed or how hard he ground his body against her, it would never be enough. Snape pulled away only to grab her arm and disengage the ward to continue to his bedroom.

Inside the sparse room he had called his own since childhood, Snape hurriedly stripped her of her clothing as she fumbled with the buttons of his coat. Their lips and hands hardly parted from one another as they finally fell into the rumpled bed and began a frenzied claiming of each other. Quickly Snape pushed himself inside her, not bothering with the formalities of foreplay. The past month had been nothing but a building of rapacious, unheeded desires that a few minutes of touching and kissing had sent into a raging torrent of need. Luckily, it must have been the same for her, for Snape found her eagerly accepting him into her hot, wet core.

He had never remembered their encounters ever being so hurried, forceful, and demanding before. But it felt erotic and primal to completely lose himself in something so base and yet so perfect. It would be a quick endeavor for him, he realized, when the tingle of pleasure began deep in his groin. However, her own quickening moans and rubbing of her pelvis against him told him she too wouldn’t need long. Snape forced himself to back off but keep his thrusts strong until she cried out and writhed beneath him, signaling he could finally follow.

Snape wondered, as he lay tangled in the sheets and her limbs, if they had managed to last a whole five minutes. He supposed it didn’t really matter for those few moments had eased weeks and weeks of pent up lust. She squirmed to nestle closely to him. The feel of her long body against him was at once soothing and familiar. He could tell she was about to speak, and he feared to hear what she might say. Often it was whispered words of adoration and declarations of love to which he could not respond to.

“So who’s the house-elf?” she asked, surprising him. “Is he a relative?”

A snort of disgust suddenly escaped him. “Hardly. Just someone I am supposed to shelter for a while.”

“If I’d known you were looking for a room mate…” she began with a playful smile.

“I fear you would be no less annoying than him,” he replied tiredly.

He expected a sharp and clever retort to his remark, but none came.

“What happened at Hogwarts before you left?” He had been curious about the events since Umbridge had dragged her away.

“Umbridge decided to let Filch have me,” Davindra said with cynical smirk. “I was put down in the dungeon for a night, even wore old-fashioned manacles and leg irons.”

If anyone else had suffered such a fate, Snape would have found it vaguely amusing. Now he just found it horrifying.

“Did he do anything to you?” The question almost caught in his throat as tried to sound relaxed.

“Just cackle and torment me with stories of the ‘good old days’ of torture,” she again said with candor. “But I was so mad afterward I owled grandmother. I’m sorry.” There was misery in her voice. “I know I should have just come to you like I promised, but I was feeling angry at everyone, and I thought maybe if there was some retribution to be paid, at least she would do it. Well, that backfired on me.”

“What did she say to you to get you to leave?”

Davindra looked at him solemnly. “She said she’d tell everyone about you, about us. That you would lose your job and end up in Azkaban because of me.”

It was as he had figured. Madame Collins knew everything about them just as if she’d been standing in the corner the whole time.

Another soft apology came from the girl beside him as she buried her head against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he replied, though it was hard to not let bitterness rise with his words.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Her voice was quiet and somber as she absent-mindedly began playing with the ends of his hair. “I don’t belong anywhere. I feel pushed and pulled in all these directions. I feel like everyone has planned my life for me but never bothered to tell me what it’s to be. It’s like I’m a nonentity. Just an object to be picked up and placed here or there or traded about and bartered with. But not of any real value to anyone.”

Snape felt misery and sympathy wash over him, for he could not help her. She was as much an object of possession and power to him as she was to Madame Collins. There was nothing he could give her of any real comfort. No words would do, at least none that he knew how to say or could honestly mean.

“I’ll do everything I can for you, Davindra,” he finally said. “There isn’t much that I can promise, but I do swear to protect you, just like I’ve done since you first stepped foot into my classroom.”

A slight, warm smile helped ease some of his guilt, and he pulled her to him in a strong embrace that eventually led to a slower, more sensual reenactment of earlier events.

After a few hours’ sleep, Snape woke to find a pale morning light filtering in through dark, dust-soaked curtains. Beside him Davindra dozed peacefully with her arm thrown over her head and legs sprawled out covering more than half of his bed. Though he had slept fairly well, he felt stiff and sore. Standing and stretching, his thirty-eight-year-old body suddenly felt eighty-eight.

After he dressed, he went to the kitchen to get Davindra’s breakfast. He didn’t want to subject her to sharing a breakfast table with a hung-over rat, though Wormtail still snored loudly from his pantry. As Snape had hoped, an owl soon arrived with a note from Lillyth Sparrow saying that they would be arriving at Spinner’s End before noon to see to Davindra.

‘Lovely, more guests,’ he couldn’t help but silently grumble.

Tea and toast balanced on a tray, Snape climbed the stairs back to his room to find Davindra awake but still lounging across the entire expanse of the bed.

“There you are,” she murmured. “I was worried you had left me alone.”

“No, just slaving away for your breakfast,” he replied formally as he set the tray on the bed.

She sat up and poured them both tea, then leaned back against the pillows to drink it. Still completely naked, she didn’t bother to cover herself as sipped her tea. A sight Snape appreciated as much as the warm cup at his lips.

“I got word from Lillyth Sparrow this morning. She’ll be arriving with your mother before noon,” he informed her.

Davindra didn’t look relieved to hear the news, and he studied her for a moment.

“But what about when Grandmother shows up, which shouldn’t be too long from now, after she discovers my bed is actually empty?” she asked.

Snape felt renewed annoyance for he had almost forgotten about Madame Collins. “I’ll take care of it,” he said calmly.

She moved to set her cup back down, but her unsteady hand spilled some tea down her bare chest. Snape watched the pale brown rivulet run down her perfect round breast. Davindra made a sound of distress and reached for a towel, but he stopped her.

Leaning forward, Snape extended his tongue to lick the droplet of liquid from her pale skin. She giggled and moaned from the sensation but pulled him closer. Then filling his mouth with her supple flesh, he sucked firmly, causing more sounds of pleasure to escape Davindra and chase away all thoughts of impending visitors from both of their minds.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just as she had predicted, Demelza Collins hit his doorstep with a fury by mid-morning. He had instructed Davindra to stay hidden in his bedroom and not come out until Lillyth and Abigail arrived later in the day. So it was that Snape met the angry witch at the door with a calm and cool smile, though her own face was masked in barely contained rage.

“Where is my granddaugher?” the woman demanded as she pushed past Snape to stride into his home and begin looking around.

“Do come in, Madame Collins,” Snape said as he closed the door well after her dramatic entrance.

“Don’t be cheeky with me,” Madame Collins spun and spat at him, her eyes flashing with an easily recognized ferocity. “I know she is here. I demand to see her at once.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he answered with an easy air and a shrug of his shoulders.

The witch stepped closer and glared at him. “Don’t lie to me.” Her voice was a cold threat. “I said I know she is here, and I DO know it. She’s upstairs. Now bring her down.”

“Oh, I won’t attempt to deny she is here,” Snape continued in equal calm. “But you won’t be seeing her. At least not yet.”

“You can’t keep her from me. You have no right!” With that Madame Collins attempted to find the staircase behind the walls of books.

“Davindra! Davindra Collins, you come down here this instant!” The woman began to yell at the unyielding shelves. Her face was now a furious red, and her hands shaking.

“Madame Collins, please control yourself,” Snape said. “You will do your health no good to get so upset. Davindra won’t come down until Lillyth Sparrow and her daughter, Abigail, arrive.” He ended with a slick smile.

“Lillyth and Abigail?” she asked with surprise. “They’re in Croatia dragon watching. They shouldn’t be bothered with this.”

Snape allowed a look of feigned concern to washed over his features. “Well, they seemed very alarmed in their letter, which said they would be here this morning to retrieve Miss Collins.”

“What lies did you tell them?”

“Only what Miss Collins told me herself. And I must say it all sounds very distressing.” Again he smiled as he announced, “I think some tea is in order. Do have a seat, and we shall wait together for Mrs. Sparrow and Mrs. Collins to arrive.”

Snape left Madame Collins stunned into silence by anger and shock. In the kitchen he found Wormtail finally beginning to move about, though it appeared the activity was a slow, painful one for him. With another reminder for the rat to stay hidden and quiet, Snape left the kitchen with another tray of tea bound for the sitting room. He was beginning to feel like a waiter.

By now Madame Collins had found her way to the fireplace and was attempting to stand in a proud, stoic manner, though her flushed complexion and fidgeting fingers said she was far from calmed.

“I don’t know what she’s told you, but I’m sure it is all a mistake,” she began in a remote voice. “I don’t know why she has turned on me so. All I’ve ever done has been for her, and now she fights me and says I’m attempting to do her harm. It hurts me so.” Tears began to spring from the woman’s eyes, and Snape couldn’t help but suspect it was more of the fine acting he had witnessed in years past.

“Then perhaps when our other guests arrive we can sort this all out,” Snape replied as he commanded the tea to pour itself for each of them. “In the mean time, why don’t you sit and relax.”

She eyed the tea suspiciously but didn’t move to take it in hand. “Is she alright at least?”

“She’s perfectly fine.”

Madame Collins narrowed her gaze at Snape as if to question his assessment when there came a knock at the door.

“Ah, they’re early,” Snape said with more enthusiasm than he had ever had for anyone who had appeared at his door.

Lillyth Sparrow looked as lovely as ever, though with a bit more worry etched around her vivid blue eyes. Abigail Collins was, surprisingly, dressed much like her mother, in traditional witch’s robes and also with an expression of anxiety. Immediately they began questioning Snape about Davindra’s well being and demanding to see her.

After ushering them into the sitting room, they took notice of Madame Collins.

“Demelza, what are you doing here?” Lillyth asked.

“Yes, I’m sure you are surprised to see me.” There was venom in the witch’s voice for her old friend.

“It’s just that…” Lillyth exchanged looks with her daughter.

Abigail turned to Snape. “Where is Davindra? I want to see her.”

Snape waved his wand and the case of books swung outwards to reveal a stairway and signal for Davindra it was safe to come out. She immediately came down the stairs, fully dressed and carrying her cloak.

“Mum! Granny!” she said with relief and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace by the small, fair-haired woman as Lillyth also fawned over her presence.

“Are you alright, really?” Abigail asked, sounding as if she were afraid for the answer.

“I’m fine now,” Davindra assured.

“You gave me a horrible fright, Davi, you should be terribly ashamed of yourself, doing that to me,” Madame Collins spoke from her place across the sitting room.

All eyes turned toward her and none were anything but cool. And she had the audacity to look confused.

Abigail wrapped a protective arm around her daughter, though she stood nearly a head shorter. “Davindra is going to come home with me now.”

Still Madame Collins seemed aghast. “What about your trip? You had reservations until August. Davindra was supposed to stay with me.”

“The plan has changed.”

The delicate woman suddenly took on a strong, steely quality. Snape could tell that she was set for battle if need be while Lillyth remained silent but equally unyielding.

“How can you do this?” Madame Collins demanded. “How can you just shut me out of Davindra’s life after all these years. After all I have done for her.”

“What have you done?” Davindra suddenly said. “What about drugging me at night? And what about those men who came in the middle of the night? Why were you talking about me? Why wouldn’t you let me out of your sight?”

Still Madame Collins looked shocked at the accusations. “The potion was just to help you sleep.” A condescending smile crept onto her face. “I knew you haven’t slept well since your father died. The people who came were clients. All they did was ask about you. All my clients ask of you. I have just been worried about you, Davi. You haven’t been yourself.”

“I think you’ve done enough now, Demelza,” Abigail started in firmly. “David and I allowed you take on Davindra’s education because we believed that being Squibs made us unable to decide the best course for a witch’s schooling. But she is an adult now and can make her own decisions, and I trust her in it.”

“She is still a child! She can’t know what she wants or what is best for her at seventeen. And look at what leaving her to her own devices has brought.” Madame Collins turned her infuriated glare to Snape, which the other women followed. Snape felt his blood suddenly turn to ice water.

“What do you mean?” Lillyth asked.

“Our dear Potions master, who I trusted to look after Davi during her education, has taken the most obscene and reprehensible liberty imaginable,” she replied with satisfied insolence. “I’ve recently learned they have been having an affair for sometime now.”

If he could have Disapparated on the spot, he would have. Instead he was left with giving the most loathsome death glare he had to the smug looking old witch. The other two women stared in disbelief, and Davindra simply looked ashamed.

Lillyth’s lips moved but nothing came out until finally she managed, “This can’t be true. Davindra? This has to be a mistake.”

While his mind searched for what to say to protect himself from the possible onslaught of vengeance, Davindra came forward.

“It’s not his fault.” Her voice was strong, and her features set in a stubborn line. “I was the one who instigated it. I’ve been in love with him since I was eleven years old. I did everything I could to gain his attention.”

This only made the women’s eyes grow wider with horror, and Snape began to go for his wand believing the only way out of this was to Imperius Davindra or Obliviate them all.

“How long has this been going on?” Abigail demanded.

“Just this last year,” Davindra assured them. “He never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. If anything, I tricked him into it.”

Lillyth and Abigail now looked at her as though they had never seen her before in their lives. Suddenly it was her honor he needed to save.

“That isn’t quite true,” he finally spoke. “I take more than an equal share of the blame. I realize I have abused my position as a trusted teacher and protector, and I never intended for anything of this nature to ever happen. But I have grown quite fond of Miss Collins over the years. My job can be a lonely one at times, and I’m afraid that in a weak moment I did allow for the affections of a beautiful young woman to sway me into a situation I would normally abhor the thought of.”

Snape kept his expression humble yet serene as he spoke. Davindra watched him with trepidation as Madame Collins kept dark loathing in her eyes for him.

“You should be relieved of your post, Professor Snape,” Lillyth said boldly.

“Indeed, it would be a fitting and just punishment,” he consented. “One I would rightfully deserve for the magnitude of my crime. I would likely hand in my own resignation if it were not for one important thing.”

Madame Collins let out a sound of disgust at his words. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t you realize this is exactly the smooth kind of talk that got Davi into his bed in the first place?”

“My employment at Hogwarts has had a dual purpose,” Snape began, ignoring the blistering comments. “My service to Albus Dumbledore is in more ways than just a Potions teacher. In being there, I serve a great duty in the resistance against the Dark Lord. A role made more important as of late, as I’m sure you can surmise. Though my leaving may give you peace of mind, it would undoubtedly leave a glaring and possibly fatal chink in the armor of the rebellion.”

“You’re saying that if we turn you in for having an affair with a student, then it leaves us in danger of being over taken by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” There was disbelief but yet a tinge of fear in Lillyth’s words.

“It is an unlikely and ridiculous story he’s concocted in hopes of saving himself,” Madame Collins interjected.

“Wait a moment! Just wait!” Abigail now stood in the middle of the room, her hands held up to quiet the argument.

“Davindra,” she turned to her daughter. “You can’t really be in love with this man.”

Davindra’s eyes quickly darted to Snape before she nodded. Snape again felt a chill of horror run through his body.

“But he’s twenty-years older than you! Old enough to be your father.” There was desperate disbelief in her voice. She sighed heavily as she looked from Snape back to her daughter. “Do you want to go back to Hogwarts in the fall?”

“Yes,” Davindra said emphatically. “I want to go back, take my N.E.W.T. exams and take the apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s.”

“But we had arranged for Davindra to finish her schooling at home,” Demelza insisted.

“I will let this be Davindra’s decision,” Abigail addressed her mother-in-law before turning back to her daughter. “But there will be one condition. And that is that this relationship ends right now.”

Snape and Davindra exchanged glances.

“I agree that is for the best,” he said smoothly, still playing modest. “It was an inevitable end. Miss Collins, I’m terribly sorry for the hurt and confusion I have caused. I never meant to exploit your affections. You do have my deepest respect.”

Snape knew if he didn’t back off a bit, then everyone would soon recognize his obsequious fawning for what it really was. It was looking for the moment that at least Abigail was convinced of his regret. Madame Collins still looked murderous. Lillyth Sparrow seemed disappointed and shocked. Davindra’s face was a mixed mask of sadness, worry, anger, and determination.

“I beseech you, Abigail,” Madame Collins came from her corner to take the woman’s arm. “Do not let your only child go back to that school. She was locked in a dungeon as punishment. And who knows what other unabated debauchery goes on there ignored by the staff. They can’t prepare her for the future the way I can.”

“The woman who inflicted that punishment on your granddaughter has been removed from Hogwarts,” Snape assured. “And my own actions aside, there has never been a tolerance for corruption of any sort. Hogwarts is one of the finest schools in the world. I doubt any one person could equal its standards of education.”

Abigail shook her arm free. “If this is what Davindra wants, then it is what her father would and I will support. But I do mean it, Mr. Snape,” she again turned to him. “I appreciate to no end you being there for Davindra when she needed you, but this inappropriate relationship stops right now. What happens between you two after she has graduated and is no longer your student might be another thing. But for now, you will keep a civil and decent distance, and I will not report you Albus Dumbledore. Do we have a deal?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with a slight bow. “I very much appreciate your leniency in this matter.”

“Just see that you stick with your end of the bargain,” she reminded firmly, her blue eyes snapping in warning. “We’re going home, Davindra.”

The woman took her daughter’s arm and began pulling her toward the door.

“Davi,” Madame Collins finally addressed her granddaughter with pleading eyes, “how can you turn your back on all we’ve done, all we’ve accomplished. Don’t you know how much I adore you and want only the very best for you?”

Davindra looked at her grandmother with a pitying sadness. “I know you do, Grandmother. But I can’t live your dreams anymore. I have my own.”

She turned then to Snape and regarded him with a calm face that seemed to scarcely hold back a flood of emotions. To his surprise she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, pressing her lips to his cheek and whispering, “I’ll love you no matter what,” before she pulled away, avoiding his eyes totally.

They exited, leaving Lillyth Sparrow behind to give him a long, contemplative look with narrowed eyes. She came close and said in a dark tone, “And when you could have had a real woman. Honestly, Severus, you do disappoint me.”

Pulling the hood of her pale blue cloak over her platinum hair, she too left, not waiting for his reply.

Last remaining was Madame Collins who still shot daggers from her cold green eyes as she too approached him.

“You will be very sorry for this, Severus Snape, for it isn’t only me you’ve crossed.” Her voice was low and menacing. “And you will stay away from Davindra, or I will not only make sure that everyone from the Ministry down to the Daily Prophet knows of your perversion, but I will make sure that you never have the desire or ability to accost another young woman again.” She gave a meaningful glance down to his crotch to accentuate her point.

“A very fine performance today, Madame Collins,” he sneered back. “You almost had me convinced that you cared about your granddaughter’s virtue. When we both know it has been your weightiest bargaining piece thus far.” Snape let his smile grow to one of obscene villainy. “But since I have already relieved you of that possession, I wonder what you will barter favors with now?”

“If I am ever foolish enough to need you, Snape, I’m sure I won’t have to look far to find a little shred of something to bind you to my bidding.” She returned an ugly grin. “Your desperation prices you cheaply, Professor. The only honest thing about you, by the way.”

With no words, he let his cold, black eyes sink into her like a knife delivering a lethal jab. Though she didn’t falter under his savage glare, she did pull away and move through the door very quickly.

A wave of his wand slammed the door and sealed it from any further intrusion. Snape let out a hiss of anger and exhaustion along with a mental resolution to never involve himself in domestic disputes ever again.

He headed to the kitchen in search of something to ease his frayed nerves and furious panic. A bottle of Firewhisky and a rat to kick repeatedly would be meager yet adequate consolation for his rage.

Madame Potion: Chapter Fifteen (Part I)

2007-04-07T15:35:41Z

Year Six: The Shadows Unravel

“I don’t have to talk to you,” Snape muttered distractedly as he kept his eyes focused on some third-year Potions essays and attempted to pretend that the two-way mirror on his desk didn’t have Remus Lupin’s scowling face staring at him.

“You do and you will,” Lupin replied, his voice slightly tinny and his reflection rather faint in the old mirror. “How can you have stopped Harry’s Occlumency lessons now of all times? Especially when Dumbledore’s final order before he left Hogwarts was for him to keep studying with you.”

“It’s very easy,” Snape replied, still calm and disinterested. “I just told him to get out and never come back.”

“This is bigger than your pride, Severus,” Lupin continued. “Harry is very sorry for what he did; he knows it was wrong to snoop through your memories.”

“Oh, that makes it all better,” Snape quipped with a curled lip.

“You can’t blame him for being curious though. Anything that gives him a feeling of being close to his father and mother is going to be irresistible to him.”

“Well, then I hope he got a good look at what a big hero James Potter was back then, picking fights just to entertain his friends and impress girls.” The memory, to this day, still burned like acid on Snape’s tongue when he spoke of it. “But perhaps Occlumency lessons are not what young Potter needs most. Perhaps some pointers on impulse control would be best.”

Lupin gave a hiss of annoyance and took a breath before he tried again. “What did Dumbledore say about this?”

“I wouldn’t know since he disappeared from the school without a word to anyone but Potter and McGonagall.” Snape went back to his essays.

“He doesn’t know you’ve stopped the Occlumency lessons?” Lupin’s anger was renewed.

Snape rolled his eyes and finally turned to address the mirror. “Though the boy is as dense as Devil’s Snare, he did manage to procure enough knowledge of Occlumency to be able to resist the Dark Lord’s intrusions IF he wishes to. However, I cannot make him practice those skills. I’ve done all I can and all I’m going to. Now, if you will excuse me, Lupin, I have work to do.”

With that, Snape reached over, and with one finger, flipped the mirror face down on to the desk, silencing all communication. He sighed with relief and returned to the work before him, though his mind still turned over many events that did not pertain to grading.

Dumbledore had left in a dramatic fanfare of suspicion after Fudge had tried to take him in for conspiracy against the Ministry. He now hid himself away where no one could find him but he could still keep an eye on Hogwarts and the Order’s activities. Unfortunately, that left Dolores Umbridge in charge of the school, and mutiny on a grand scale had ensued. The massive and endless fireworks display was actually quite creative, and Snape knew that it had the Weasley twins’ signature all over it. There was no denying they had brains and balls as well as a sense of style to their mayhem. Most faculty also knew who was responsible, but all kept their mouths firmly shut and let Umbridge and her new stooge, Filch, enjoy their supreme power and clean up all the messes which sprang forth completely unaided.

Still, the old horrors remained, brought back to life in that one moment just nights before. Coming into his office and finding the arrogant brat standing inside one of his most private and painful memories, which he had stupidly thought would be safe in the Pensieve, had nearly pushed him over the edge. The Headmaster didn’t know how close he had come to losing the lone savior to the wizarding world that night. All Snape knew was that he didn’t ever want to look into those snide, boastful green eyes and know that one of his weaknesses was being carefully contained and analyzed inside that head only to be used against him later. If and when Dumbledore found out Snape had stopped the lessons, he would deal with it. For now, he would enjoy the return of his solitude and continue to sit back and watch Hogwarts fall down around Umbridge’s ears.

For several weeks Snape had stayed away from Davindra. The weeks felt like months or even years in a desolate desert with no water, food, or shelter in sight. She managed a calm, unaffected exterior when around him in class and he did the same. But it was not without its price. There were the long, barren stretches of night when Snape would lay in bed, not sleeping and unable to turn his thoughts and desires away from her. His own forms of self satisfaction hardly compared to her company. But his concerns of being turned out or chased out of Hogwarts like Trelawny and Dumbledore kept him chaste. And with so many spies about, most of whom were in his own house, he knew he could spare no chances.

There was plenty to keep his mind occupied, if he simply focused. There were always demands of his time and energy. Part of his concern was still Madame Collins’s peculiar activities and Davindra’s situation of being left in the care of her grandmother for the summer. He imagined that part of Davindra’s cool manner to him involved some disappointment in his dismissal of their relationship and presumably her problems. If she only knew how he pondered what would be best for her and how he ached for their time together to resume. But as he had always claimed, he would not risk his livelihood for his own hedonistic wishes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Strolling the aisles of the sixth-year Potions class, Snape stopped to peer at Davindra’s work. She had seemed particularly distracted today and had nearly added the wrong amounts of water and boomslang skin. As he watched her now, her fingers seemed to tremble as she tipped in a small amount of rose oil. Snape gave her a quizzical look, which she returned with nervous eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” she said in barely a whisper. “I got a letter today.”

He let nothing register on his face as he softly replied, “After class,” and walked away.

As the class left the dungeon after being dismissed, Snape moved on to his office. Davindra followed, and without anyone’s notice they disappeared behind his closed door.

For a moment they stood staring at one another, sharing their first private moment in nearly a month. She looked tired and pensive. Her hair drawn into a haphazard bundle at the back of her head made her neck look long and fragile and her haunting, smoky eyes more noticeable. Snape held out his hand for the letter she said she had received.

Fumbling in her book bag for a moment, she withdrew it and held it out to him. But they were almost across the room from each other. Someone would have to submit to the other. Davindra finally took careful, slow steps to close the gap and come to stand directly in front of him. When he took the letter from her hand, she threw her arms around him in a crushing embrace. Her face was buried in his hair, and her groan of relief tickled his neck.

Snape pulled her head back so he could kiss her, his own sounds of release reverberating low in his throat as her savored her taste and texture. For several moments the letter was forgotten, and they reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies and touches. As Davindra began a slow, seductive nibble of his ear and neck, Snape let his eyes fall to the letter still in his hand. It was Madame Collins’s writing. With the nimble fingers of one hand, he unfolded it and began reading, though Davindra’s expert tongue was making it hard to concentrate.

In blunt, succinct words, Madame Collins said that she had submitted an application for Davindra to finish her last year of schooling at home under her grandmother’s tutoring and return to Hogwarts only to take her N.E.W.T. finals. Nothing was said about why or how she planned on surpassing or even equaling Hogwarts’s education at home.

Snape found that as he read, he had pulled away from Davindra, who by now figured that the impact of the letter had set in.

“She’s taking you out of Hogwarts?” Snape summarized incredulously. “How does she plan to prepare you for N.E.W.T.s on her own?”

Davindra shook her head. “I’ve written to Mother and Granny Lilly this morning hoping they can change this. I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to leave…”

Snape knew she was going to say ‘you,’ but he ignored the comment. “Why is she doing this?” he asked her.

“I don’t know!” Davindra again shook her head more fervently. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Snape again read the letter, but it revealed no more. “You are seventeen-years-old. You are of age and can make your own decisions. You don’t have to leave Hogwarts just because she tells you to.”

“You try going against what Demelza Collins has planned for you,” she replied wryly. “The scary thing is, I think she knows I’m going to fight her on this. And I think she’s ready for the battle.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t know about us?” he asked suspiciously.

Davindra slumped against a nearby bookcase. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. If Professor Dumbledore were here, I’m sure he could sort this out. But I wouldn’t trust that Umbridge woman meddling in my affairs for all the gold in Gringotts.”

“Davindra, a lot of people remove themselves from their parents’ home when they reach seventeen, even though they still attend school,” he reiterated. It seemed the most logical plan to him at this point.

She sighed with exasperation. “I have no problem with my parent. It’s my grandmother who wants to run my life.”

“And she’s not your legal guardian; she has no say,” Snape replied in a loud, frustrated voice.

Davindra gave him a hard, impatient look. “You do what Professor Dumbledore tells you, right? Even if you don’t always agree with it?”

He didn’t respond. He knew what she was getting at.

“You fear, respect, love, and hate him, and the last thing you’d want is to be on his bad side,” she continued. “And he knows it, so he knows he can ask anything he wants of you. It’s the same with her.”

Snape pursed his lips as he thought. Mindlessly his finger stroked his bottom lip as he considered her astute assessment of the parallels of their relationships.

“If I felt that being under Albus Dumbledore were a detriment to my life and health, I could get out.”

“Could you?” she asked skeptically. “How?”

The conversation was starting to make Snape’s head throb. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, wishing he could block out her and her incessant problems.

“Don’t you have another class?” he asked tiredly.

“Yes,” she replied with equal fatigue. “I’m already late.”

“I’ll write you a note,” he said moving to his desk. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“The end of term isn’t far away, Severus,” she reminded.

“I know,” he said with dark irritation. “We’ll think of something.”

Handing the note out across the desk, Davindra reached out to take it. Grasping her chin in his hand, Snape brought her lips in for one more sweet, forbidden kiss before he relinquished her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Weasley twins had departed Hogwarts in a blaze of chaotic glory, which everyone then continued on their behalf. Snape spent as much time trying to undo curses and hexes as he did teaching these days. Slytherin had completely blown their chances for the Quidditch Cup, and Snape had been summoned to the feet of the Dark Lord twice recently to account for Dumbledore’s whereabouts and who was now watching Harry Potter.

It was on a rare instance that Snape called it a relatively early night, downed his usual wine and sleeping potion, and was in bed, sound asleep, that the anti-intruder charm in his office woke him. At first, completely disoriented about where he was and what time it was, it took him a while to realize it was the middle of the night and he was in nothing but his old, worn night shirt. Stumbling up the stairs, he made it to his office and looked around, his eyes squinting against the light. Nothing seemed out of place and no one was there. That was then he went to the door to pull it open and found Davindra on the other side, casually leaning against the door frame with crossed arms.

“I knew that would get you up,” she said and walked passed him into the office.

“What are you doing here?” he finally barked when he comprehended the danger she had just tempted to get there. He poked his head out the door to look up and down the hall, but saw no one. Closing the door he turned to her, but found she had disappeared. The only other exit was down to his chambers. He took off after her, his bare feet smacking against the cold stone of the stairs.

She was standing in the middle of his sitting room, waiting for him, with the same care-free look and crossed arms.

“It is the middle of the night,” he began in a low snarl through clenched teeth. “Umbridge keeps patrols in the halls at all hours. You could have risked expulsion or worse coming down here! Do you know how stupid an idea this was?”

Davindra remained unfazed my his tirade.

“So tell me,” he spat with disdain, “what was so important that you had to risk your neck and mine to get down here?”

“I’ve missed you,” she stated firmly with a piercing stare.

Snape let out a gasp of disgust and rolled his eyes. He then walked to his sleeping area to look for clothes to put on.

Davindra followed. “It took me an hour to get down here. I kept having to hide every time someone came around. But no one saw me.”

“And you think that makes you clever?” Snape sneered as he looked for his pants.

“Perhaps it’s more lucky, but I’m here at least.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to get yourself back to Ravenclaw tower the same way,” he replied as he drew the nightshirt over his head and started to step into his pants. Then he felt Davindra’s arms wrap around his waist and her body press against his back.

“Haven’t you missed me just a bit?” Her breath came against the back of his neck, and her lips brushed his shoulder.

“I didn’t say I hadn’t.” He attempted to keep his voice as calm as possible, though his cock was already starting to twitch and rise from her touch.

“So, you did miss me?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Her hands slid down his slender, bony hips to brush against his quickly stiffening shaft. He let out a breath and reached back to tangle his fingers in her loose hair as her lips traveled his neck. Tossing his pants aside, Snape turned and clutched her body to him, covering her mouth with his. If she was there, and if she was willing, who was he to push her away, he reconciled with himself. Slowly her hands and mouth began a descent down his body until she set upon his now completely prepared erection and took him into her mouth. A slow hiss of pleasure escaped him as he looked down at her.

He had taught her this talent. Her mouth had known only him; she had experienced only his body. There was a thrill of pride in him when he thought of it. And he realized that she had been correct. He did have a terrible possessive streak that he chose to ignore. The idea of settling down and being confined to one woman had never appealed to him, but the thought that she would only know his touch and only find pleasure in him was a comforting one. He just wasn’t sure that it was logical. Possession required a lot of care and attention, more than he would want to devote his life to.

By the time they had finished with each other, and were properly spent and draped across the bed and each other as though de-boned and haphazardly cast there, it was well into the wee hours of the morning.

“Davindra,” Snape murmured sleepily. “You can’t stay here. You have to go back to your room.”

“Mmmmm,” came a vague reply next to him. “Just let me rest a while, then I’ll go.”

He felt her arm come across his chest and a sigh of her breath on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she mumbled. “I won’t let her come between us.”

Snape was about to ask what she was talking about but found his mind was shut down by sleep before the words made it out of his lips.

He woke with a start as he often did, but this time there was a swell of panic in his chest when he realized he wasn’t alone. It was already daylight, and Davindra was still sprawled in his bed, her head and pillow buried under a wild mass of ebony hair.

“Wake up!” he shouted as he shoved her.

She woke with a jump and grunt. “What?” she asked in a startled voice from somewhere under all that hair.

“It’s morning!” Snape yelled as he began searching for his clothes. “You didn’t leave last night, so not only do you have to figure out a way to sneak out of here, but also to cover for the fact that your bed was empty all night!”

Davindra gave an exhaustive cry of dismay but only fell back into the bed.

“UP!” Snape physically shoved her body from the bed. and she hit the floor with a squeak of surprise and a thump, followed by an “ouwww.”

Crawling about the floor, she finally found her clothes and began pulling them on. Snape was nearly ready to leave for the Great Hall and breakfast. He stepped from his bathroom after a quick shave, a splash of water to his face, and a hurried combing of his hair.

“What will I say?” Davindra finally asked in horror as full consciousness set in. “Do you think anyone even noticed I was gone? I left the curtains on my bed closed.”

“That’s not my problem,” Snape hissed as he stomped his foot into his boot. “Now go, before I bodily throw you out. And don’t let anyone see you!”

She got up to leave, but as always, stopped to kiss him before she exited. It was a silly habit in which he indulged her in.

He counted to thirty before he exited his chambers himself. Not far out of the dungeon he heard voices, one of which he disappointingly recognized as Davindra’s.

“It’s hardly seven a.m., young lady,” a voice dripping with sweet vitriol said. “Now tell me just exactly what was so important that you had to be out so early? Or was it that you are just now attempting to sneak in?”

Snape casually walked up to find Umbridge holding on to Davindra’s arm and gazing at her through suspicious eyes. Davindra in turn looked haughty yet slightly panicked.

“Is there a problem, Headmistress?” Snape asked calmly.

“Yes, Professor Snape,” the reptilian witch said with a sickening smile. “This young lady was found roaming the halls before curfew ended, and I have a strong suspicion she is attempting to get back to her room. I was just trying to ascertain where she spent the night.”

“Indeed?” Snape let his gaze drift to Davindra with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Well, Miss Collins does have a propensity for wandering. I myself found her out past curfew last year. More than likely she was in the library or astronomy tower. You know the bookish sorts like their privacy for reading.”

“Oh, not this one,” Umbridge said with a flash of evil in her eye. “She is quite the cheeky little tart. I think she was probably meeting a boy for some filthy little liaisons.”

Snape gave the halls a sweep with his dark eyes. “Did you see anyone else with her?”

“No, he probably got away.”

“I told you, I was out early sending an owl and tried to sneak back in through the side door,” Davindra said, jerking her head back in the direction of the hall.

“I don’t know of any side door,” Umbridge said indignantly.

“It’s not one that is in service and is supposed to be locked at all times,” Snape added on to the lie, appreciating Davindra’s quick wit. “But students have used it in the past. It really should be sealed. I can take her to Professor Flitwick and let him deal with her, if you like,” Snape offered.

“Oh, no, I’ll deal with this myself. Thank you, Professor Snape.” The woman returned a terrible smile to him and marched off dragging Davindra behind her, who shot Snape a worried glance as she followed.

Snape had no idea what had happened to Davindra for some time after. He was just glad that the Veritaserum he had given Umbridge was a dud batch that was missing several of the key ingredients that made it a truth serum. It was instead, a harmless base. He had an awful feeling that the old toad might decide to extract some highly incriminating information from the girl. At least Snape knew his hide would be safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All the way into his dungeon, Snape could hear the ruckus of Umbridge trying to apprehend Hagrid. His stomach sank when he thought who might be next on her list and in what horrible, degrading way she would try to eradicate them from Hogwarts. He got outside just in time to see McGonagall fall to the ground after four Stunning Spells were shot at her. He immediately stepped back inside to watch the chaos, knowing that no good could be served if he lay dead on the lawn. She was taken to St. Mungo’s in hopes they could save her, but it looked grave. Snape was now the last Order member left at Hogwarts. He realized how important his position was. And no matter how much he wished to wreak some vengeance on the corpulent bag of bile, he knew it was important he not give her any reason to think him anything but a supporter.

Harry Potter’s cryptic message to him while being held in Umbridge’s office was an immediate indication that the Boy Wonder had never bothered to use his meager Occlumency skills. If he was getting visions of the Dark Lord holding Sirius Black in the Department of Mysteries, it was more than likely that it was a foil planted there to draw the boy in. Revealing nothing of his belief of the warning, Snape’s immediate check with Grimmauld Place proved that Black was safe and sound and that Potter was a fool. But it was no matter. Before he could even report to Dumbledore, the band of merry nit-wits had disappeared into the Forbidden Forest with Umbridge.

Later, as Snape considered the events of that night, he wondered how much he was to blame. He didn’t like Potter. He liked Sirius Black even less. But he felt miserably responsible for what happened. Maybe if he had insisted on continuing the Occlumency lessons, Potter would have known it was all a ruse or he would never have seen those things at all. Maybe if Snape had insisted harder somehow that Black stay behind at Grimmauld Place, instead of tossing out his usual snide remarks about worthlessness to the Order, then he might still be alive. Maybe if he had only handled things differently he wouldn’t be such a disappointment to Dumbledore and an embarrassment to himself.

If anyone looked as miserable as he felt, it was Dumbledore. With the Dark Lord’s return finally acknowledged by the Ministry and Umbridge removed, the wizard could finally regain his rightful post at Hogwarts. But the great man’s grief and shame were startling to witness, for Snape hadn’t ever recalled seeing the Headmaster look so defeated. He seemed to not even have enough rage left to chastise Snape at all for his wrong-doings. He only seemed to want someone else to share and understand the powerful emotions that were involved in fighting such an immense battle.

“So, you finally told him?” Snape asked quietly.

Dumbledore only nodded. And then there was silence again.

“Did you really tell him everything?” he asked tentatively.

Dumbledore shook his head. “I didn’t think he needed another reason to be angry with you.”

“Me?” Snape spat. “I tried to help him! It isn’t my fault that he is too stubborn and arrogant to put faith in anyone else’s efforts.”

“Right now he’s angry with everyone and everything. He’s just lost the only loving family member he has known. He feels guilty.”

“Don’t we all,” Snape murmured bitterly.

“Yes, we do,” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m afraid I have another bit of bad news. Demelza Collins has taken Davindra out of Hogwarts.”

“What?” Snape’s mind immediately scrambled for comprehension. “Already? When?”

“Yesterday. It seems she got into a spot of trouble for breaking curfew with Umbridge, and her punishment landed her an overnight stay in Filch’s dungeon.” There was more of the grave worry in the old wizard’s eyes.

Snape had a sudden desire to beat his head against the stone walls that surrounded them. She had only missed one class and a fellow Ravenclaw had said that she had seemed ill and stayed in bed that morning. He had intended to investigate, but the events of Potter, Umbridge, and the Order had distracted him enough that he had completely forgotten.

“Madame Collins was furious and came for her granddaughter, saying she wouldn’t be returning next term.”

“She had that in plan all along,” Snape fumed as he stood from the chair in which he had been sitting in to walk the room in an attempt to burn angry energy. “Miss Collins had told me that her grandmother intended to continue her education at home. The girl was very distressed, Headmaster. She still firmly believes her grandmother is planning something that could have dark connections. Miss Collins was genuinely afraid when she spoke to me.”

Dumbledore nodded. “It’s unfortunate, but I don’t see what we could do. Davindra is of age that she can legally go against her grandmother’s wishes.”

“There is no legal issue to begin with because Demelza Collins was never her legal guardian!” Snape said testily. “The girl still has a mother. But that woman has just taken it upon herself to control the girl’s entire life. She fears going against her grandmother’s wishes. And I have an awful feeling it’s a fear for her life.”

The Headmaster stared at Snape curiously as the Potions master stormed about the room on his tirade.

“From what I hear, she put up a pretty brave fight,” Dumbledore continued. “Sarah, one of her dorm mates, said Davindra was flat out refusing to go until Madame Collins said something to her that changed her mind.”

“What did she say?”

“Sarah didn’t know. She only said that it made Davindra go quiet and start packing.”

Again Snape paced. He had a nauseating feeling as to what Madame Collins could have threatened her with. His own name was probably attached.

“Do you know what she might have said, Severus?” Dumbledore asked. There was something in the lilt of his voice and the look in his eye that told Snape he suspected he did.

“I wouldn’t know, sir,” Snape uttered calmly.

The men held each other’s gaze for a while until Dumbledore finally spoke.

“I’ll send a letter and attempt to reason with Madame Collins. But I’m not sure how much good it will do. And honestly, Severus, I don’t have much time to spare to pursue this matter. And neither do you.”

“I understand, Headmaster.” Snape reeled in his temper. Any more impassioned outbreaks and the old man would surely know that an ulterior motive was behind his designs. “Please let me know of any progress you make.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

{continued}

Madame Potion: Chapter Fourteen

2007-03-21T00:10:42Z

The Lake View

It was a nice Sunday afternoon. Too nice to stay cooped up inside. Ron and Harry had prowled the grounds talking and exploring until the sky began to turn gray and the wind threatened hostility.

Spending a few more moments enjoying the last glimmers of sunlight before it was swallowed up by the rolling chrome clouds, the boys lounged against some rocks that overlooked the Black Lake. The dim and rolling water reflected the turbulent sky.

Neither spoke as they surveyed the beauty of the land, the water, and the mountainous peaks beyond. Suddenly, Ron nudged Harry with the back of his hand and pointed to a look out point near the edge of the lake.

“Hey, is that Snape down there?” he asked.

Harry’s eyes followed the line of Ron’s finger to the back of a tall figure, clad in black from head to toe, standing stock straight, seemingly entranced with the view of the lake. The only movement came from his cloak fluttering slightly behind him in the rising breeze.

“It looks like,” muttered Harry.

“I didn’t know he went out in daylight,” Ron quipped. “Figured sunlight might turn him to dust.”

The boys looked at each other and laughed. From this distance it felt easy and safe to make disparaging comments about their least favorite teacher.

“I didn’t know he liked the water,” Harry added. “Do you think if he fell in he’d melt?”

Again they laughed.

Suddenly Ron stopped and again pointed in the direction of Snape.

“Who’s that?” he asked

A tall, slender female had stepped out from in front of Snape. They stood close without touching and looked at one another for a moment before the girl walked away along the lake’s shore. She continued until she picked up the path that led to the courtyard and then into Hogwarts.

“Isn’t she that Ravenclaw, Davindra Collins? Hermione knows her. She helped me with my Potions homework once,” Ron said.

“It looks like,” Harry replied, his eyes still following the girl as she made her way up the path until she was out of sight. “But what was she doing with Snape out there on the lake?”

“Awhh, she’s his pet, don’t you know?” Ron sneered. “I think he may even like her better than Malfoy. I sure like her better than Malfoy!”

“Yeah, but you don’t see Malfoy taking strolls by the lake with him either,” Harry stated.

Ron eyed Harry suspiciously. “You don’t think…..” he began, then stopped when Harry simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

“EWWHHHhhh!” Ron exclaimed, his whole body convulsing with a shudder.

Harry had to smile, though he felt a similar reaction to the thought.

Soon Snape turned from his position against the lake and began to make his way up the hill toward the rocks at which Ron and Harry stood. They looked at each other, wondering if they should run, hide, or stay in place. But he had seen them before they could decide. So they remained and tried to look casual and as though they hadn’t been watching him. Both prepared for a verbal lashing.

But Snape simply walked between the two, uttering a calm and only slightly sneering, “Weasley… Potter,” in greeting as he passed.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks of shock, stunned to be dismissed at a time when Snape could have unleashed any number of scathing insults their way.

Looking after him, they saw Snape continue into Hogwarts with the same measured, intentional gait.

“Harry,” Ron finally spoke. “Did he actually look… relaxed to you?”

Harry looked into Ron’s puzzled face and burst out laughing.

Madame Potion: Chapter Thirteen

2007-03-18T17:04:23Z

Year Six: A Flash of Eden in Hell

“Severus, Harry has to learn Occlumency; it’s the only solution.”

The Headmaster sat at his desk looking at Snape with a serene ferocity. Snape sat in the chair across the way looking horrified.

“Then you teach him!” he spat back at the old wizard. “First of all, he hates me. Second of all, the feeling is mutual. Third, he isn’t even remotely prepared to concentrate to the level that is required of an Occlumens. Fourth, I don’t have time. Fifth, and probably the most viable reason of them all, I just won’t do it!”

Dumbledore allowed his chin to rest against his hand as he surveyed the Potions master with a wry smile.

“You know I can’t teach him, Severus.” As always the man’s voice was soothing and calm. “If Voldemort wanted any access to me, he could easily get it through Harry. After this episode with Arthur Weasley, we are now certain that Harry’s mind is an open door for Voldemort.”

“It could be useful,” Snape suggested tentatively.

“It would also be deadly.”

“I can’t teach that boy anything. He barely passes in Potions,” he insisted. “And did you stop to consider that teaching Occlumency requires a fair amount of trust between teacher and subject? Potter wouldn’t trust me as far as he could hex me. Frankly, I have to say I feel the same towards him.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I realize that I have asked a lot of you and that I have no right to ask yet another favor. But only you can do this, Severus. You and Harry are both very important to this cause, whether you like it or not. You’re just going to have to learn to work together. Though I must say that your lack of effort to ebb the flow of vitriol towards Sirius and Remus has been dismaying.”

“Sir, they have done more than their part to antagonize me and imply that I do not have a right to even be amongst the Order of the Phoenix,” Snape replied with burgeoning anger.

“And being a grown man and not a hot headed young boy anymore, you know not to give in to their taunts. All that matters now is that everyone works together for the common good.” There was a firm command to the wizard’s words. “Please, Severus, think of what we will accomplish in the long run.”

Snape seethed inwardly. ‘Of course, disregard the past transgressions and deal with all of the present and future ones same as you did the old; ignore them as childish folly.’ And he was supposed to forgive and forget?

“Well, then, you had better explain to Sirius Black that it is I who will be teaching his precious godson Occlumency and that he is not to interfere,” Snape snapped at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore thought for a moment. “I’ll do that, Severus, but you need to tell Harry yourself. He’s at the Order headquarters along with the Weasleys.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape came back to Hogwarts in a fiery mood. Black was still an egotistical ass, even after all the years in Azkaban and two years on the run. Nothing would break his smug arrogance. He dared challenge Snape in front of Potter. Once again trying to impress someone like he used to nearly tie himself in knots to impress James. It was uncountable, the number of times Snape had been the target in their attempts to outdo each other. At least young Potter didn’t egg Black on as much as his father did. What would Dumbledore say if Snape had come back with the terrible news that he had just had to kill them both? Snape allowed the chilling thought to soothe him.

He prepared for his first session with Potter by again borrowing the Pensieve from Dumbledore so there would be no worry that the boy might stumble across some embarrassing and private moments best kept unseen.

The knock on his door was too early for Potter, who would no doubt put off coming down to the dungeon for as long as possible. Instead Davindra stepped through.

“What do you want?” he asked with far less irritability than normal, for he actually felt a slight pleasure in seeing her again.

“I had a lovely Christmas, thank you for asking. And you?” she replied brightly with a smile.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I have an appointment in a few moments, Miss Collins. Pardon my being rude, but what do you want?”

“Well, I guess I’ll skip asking if you missed me, then.”

“Please do, the answer would only disappoint you.”

“I want to ask you something, and I want you to give me an honest answer.”

“This isn’t about dress robes again is it?” he replied with a flippant air.

“No, it’s about my grandmother.” There was a seriousness in her tone that made Snape stop what he was doing and look at her. “Is she a Death Eater?”

The question was so startling, blunt, and absurd that Snape actually chuckled. Then he saw the solemn look on Davindra’s face remain in place and knew that she wasn’t joking.

“What makes you ask such a thing?”

“I spent most of Christmas at Granny Lilly’s with my Mother. Grandmother only came for a little while on Christmas day. Normally we are either at her house or our home, and she is there constantly. No one even talked about the change this year. But when she was there, she mentioned the Dark Lord several times.”

Snape considered the story. “The Dark Lord is a timely topic amongst a lot of wizard families. That’s not unusual in itself,” he replied calmly.

“But she talked about it like it was exciting. She didn’t come right out and say she supported him, but she kept talking about all these changes that could happen and how some of them might be good. And she still wouldn’t say what she had been doing for the past few months. She ignored all my questions on it. And Granny Lilly and Mother just acted uncomfortable around her. That’s never happened before.” Davindra began to sound more agitated as she continued. She started a nervous pace about the room.

Snape had heard at one time that Demelza Collins was suspected of working subversively for the Dark Lord. But nothing was proven, and as far as he knew, she’d never been brought before the Ministry on any charges. Davindra’s allegations were intriguing, and Snape did stop to consider their validity.

“There was talk at one time, many years ago,” Snape said honestly. “But nothing was ever proven or even investigated. I think it was just residual paranoia after the Dark Lord’s fall.”

“I asked Mother about that.” Davindra sat herself on her usual stool. “She said that Grandmother had made a special potion for someone who was later found to be a Death Eater. But Grandmother didn’t know it at the time, and she even believed the potion was for personal use and not for Death Eater activity.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he uttered, his mind still turning over all the possibilities but not wanting to cause undo alarm to her.

Davindra was slowly shaking her head, staring at the floor, and chewing her bottom lip in furious thought. “Something just isn’t right.”

“Miss Collins, I’m really not able to answer your question on this, and besides, I told you, I’m expecting someone.” Snape needed her gone so that he could concentrate on Potter, but also her intrusive meddling was getting uncomfortable.

“I asked you to be honest with me, Professor,” she demanded firmly.

Snape felt his temper beginning to fray. “How would I know such things to be honest about them?” he bellowed.

“Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater,” she replied with a candid stare.

He loathed that phrase and that mentality. Though he expected such sentiment from the likes of Black and Lupin, he hadn’t expected such a traitorous insult from her. It was exactly the attitude that forced him to take shelter behind Dumbledore’s robes and kept him a slave to the Order.

Snape glared at Davindra murderously. “You impertinent little bitch, what would you know about it?” he growled viciously. “I suggest you leave now before I throw you out, and stop bothering me with preposterous ideas.”

Davindra gave a sound of impatience. “I know that you’re not really one of them,” she said, completely disregarding his furious words. “I know that you work for Dumbledore now, but you have to stay a Death Eater or else they wouldn’t give you any information. They might even kill you.”

She spoke as if this was all common knowledge she’d attained from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Snape stared at her with stunned horror.

“Where do you hear these things?” he shouted incredulously.

“Grandmother told me years ago about your past,” she again spoke casually.

“Davindra, get out. I’m not going to tell you again.” Snape walked over to the stool she sat on and took her arm in his grasp to begin pulling her toward the door. His quick movements kept her struggling to a minimum.

Before he managed to slam the door in her face, she gave him a incensed look. “You know, I came to you because I trusted you, and I thought this might even help you.”

“I don’t need your help. Goodbye.” Snape slammed the door without another look.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first session with Potter was predictably disastrous. Snape was able to repeatedly crawl into his mind as easily as he crawled into his own bed. Though he did have to admit that there were almost as many atrocious, degrading memories in Potter’s head as there were in Snape’s. Was it possible that there was a childhood more miserable than his own?

The next Order of the Phoenix meeting was the first chance Snape had to speak with Dumbledore. And though the Headmaster often left as soon as the last words were spoken, for some reason he must have caught Snape’s fervent glances and sought him out as people began their usual post-meeting socialization.

The old wizard’s first words were devoted to the Potter boy’s progress in Occlumency.

“Sir, he is a dismal failure, as I’ve predicted all along,” Snape replied with weary sentiment.

“It’s not as though you are teaching him knitting, Severus,” Dumbledore stated with raised eyebrows. “Occlumency is a very difficult skill to master. Surely you didn’t have success on your first try.”

Snape gave the man a boastful look. Actually, he had achieved quite a lot in only his first few attempts at Occlumency as a young boy. It was an easy talent for him. Legilimency had been even easier.

Dumbledore seemed to get the message. “Ah, well, then you just must remember Harry is not you. Have patience with him and don’t give up.”

Attempting to keep his brow unsnarled at the thoughts of forcing patient, coaxing words of encouragement in Potter’s direction was proving impossible. Snape moved on to what he had originally wanted the Headmaster’s ear for. First he paused to look around the room to see that no one was taking notice of their words.

“Sir, there is something I was wanting to discuss with you. Davindra Collins came to me after the start of the term in quite a state. She seems to have concern that Madame Collins might have involvement with the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore had a look of mild intrigue on his face as he asked for the details of the discussion. After Snape had finished, the old wizard continued to look at him with intense concentration, though he remained silent. Snape simply waited for the man to ready his thoughts for expression.

“If you remember, during the first war family members grew suspicious of one another and started believing the worst of their most cherished loved-ones. Paranoia like I haven’t seen before nor since. It caused a lot of trouble for some good, innocent people.” He let out a sad sigh. “Once again I’ve no doubt there are many people we would be surprised to hear have more than a passing interest in the Dark Lord’s return. Though I do find it hard to believe that someone as clever, talented, and well connected as Demelza Collins might be in those ranks. What do you think, Severus?”

Snape again looked about to find the room becoming more empty. He then replied in an appropriately lowered voice. “There were rumors in the past which I might not pay any heed to except she has been noticeably quiet since last summer. I have not heard from her, and Miss Collins says even their communication has been limited. It would take something very important to pull Madame Collins’s focus away from her granddaughter.”

Dumbledore nodded. “See what you can find out. Encourage Davindra to talk to you about whatever she see and hears. If Madame Collins is really moving amongst the Death Eater circle, she will eventually become visible to someone.”

Before Snape could reply, Sirius Black had sauntered up to the two men. He had a pleasant smile plastered on his face for Dumbledore’s benefit, but his eyes flashed a second of expressed loathing at Snape.

“Albus, how’s Harry coming with his Occlumency?” Black asked with annoying good nature.

Snape rolled his eyes at the fact that every conversation always came back to the Boy Wonder.

“I was just talking to Severus about that,” Dumbledore replied motioning toward the Potions master.

Snape returned a sneering, patronizing smile to Black who grimaced a snarl back.

“It appears your godson has no talent for Occlumency. So it remains that I must continue in my fruitless attempts to pound some amount of knowledge into his thick skull,” Snape said in a silky manner.

Black’s finger came up to Snape’s nose. “You lay a finger on Harry, and I’ll have your greasy head on a stick.”

“If you do not stop sticking that grimy finger of yours in my face, I’m going to turn it into a cucumber,” Snape threatened in reply.

Black turned to Dumbledore. “If Harry needs extra help, he should come to me or Remus, to someone he trusts,” he said passionately.

“Unfortunately he is not in need of learning the art of doxy extermination or flea control,” Snape retorted.

“Boys, I cannot tell you how being in your presence makes me feel twenty-five years younger,” Dumbledore interrupted in a firm tone. “Mostly because you two act just like you did at thirteen. And frankly, it’s exhausting.”

Both grown men cast their searing stares down in embarrassed shame for incurring the Headmaster’s stern words.

“Sirius, Severus has never, in fourteen years of teaching, lain a physically damaging finger on any student,” the man said patiently to Black.

“It’s not his fingers that are the most damaging,” Black snarled. “It’s that twisted, dark mind of his.”

Dumbledore turned his bright blue eyes to Snape in contemplation though he rested a hand on Black’s shoulder. “His mind is an amazing storehouse of Dark knowledge, I do agree. Then who better to be in charge of instructing your godson in the ways of protecting his very valuable mind from the darkest wizard of them all?”

They spoke as if Snape were an inanimate object unable to hear or reply to their critiques. He felt another exaggerated eye roll coming upon him.

“If we are done here, Headmaster, I do need to return to the school. Papers to grade, students to torture, you know.” He inclined his head with a devious smile toward Black and exited the headquarters with a swirl of black cloak.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape wasn’t sure how he would once again attempt to win over Davindra’s confidence when he had so callously tossed her from his office. He was reminded of her accusations from the start of the last term. They did indeed have a dance that they repeated the steps to frequently. If he went back to her again, begging for her time so he could grovel her forgiveness and ask for yet another favor, she might finally figure out she was right about them. He doubted his own ego could survive such a revelation. It would be best if she came to him.

He began with watching her. He knew she both hated and craved his eyes to be on her at all times. However, he was more careful than he had been in the past. Umbridge still prowled about looking for anything to put a teacher on report about.

Astute as always, Davindra noticed quickly that Snape’s eyes followed her more than he usually allowed. She would return his look but with a shade of coolness still echoing the pain of their last encounter. And it wasn’t long before she herself began to exploit his captured attention to her own benefit. Suddenly almost any boy within her reach was worthy of lavish attention. All Snape had to do was walk in her direction and Davindra was suddenly enraptured with the words of her latest companion. To make matters worse, she sought out some of the most vexing choices she could possibly find. Outrageous flirting with Gryffindors of all ages, a resumed friendship with Draco Malfoy, and even smiles and playful greetings to Hero Potter himself were part of her dastardly plan to drive Snape mad.

Within just a few weeks, he overheard the conversation of a small cluster of seventh-years talking about Davindra’s spiraling reputation and the ease at which she could be had. Resisting the urge to physically wring their scrawny, hormonal necks, Snape simply made his presence known, which broke up the little boasting party and sent them scurrying.

Though most of it was undoubtedly exaggerated bragging of teenage boys, it still made Snape’s stomach turn. The one soothing thought was to know that no one else but him could take the bragging rights of being her first.

After a day of annoying classes with imbecilic students creating disappointing messes out of valuable potion ingredients, Snape opened his classroom doors to find Davindra hanging about the entrance to the dungeon in the arms of a rather quiet, unremarkable Hufflepuff. They stood with their heads together, talking quietly. The boy seemed quite pleased to be in his fortunate position, one in which he probably had not been before. He smiled shyly and took quick, coy looks into Davindra’s enticing eyes.

Snape approached slowly, feeling a burn begin in his chest, and his fingers automatically searching for his wand. The boy noticed the approaching teacher and attempted to straighten himself. But without even a look in Snape’s direction, Davindra grabbed the boy and planted a firm, lengthy kiss on his unprepared lips. Startled at first and unsure which required his attention, the angry approaching Potions master or the girl clinging to him, the boy seemed to struggle between wanting to pull away and wanting to return the kiss.

Davindra only allowed the kiss to be broken when Snape slid quietly beside the couple. The three stood together in silence for a few moments. The Hufflepuff looking mortified, Davindra looking innocently amused, and Snape doing his best to look disinterested and vaguely repulsed.

“If you two are done with your lascivious display of germ exchanging, then I suggest you move along.” Snape kept his voice smooth and dark. “The dinner hour is approaching, unless devouring each other’s faces has spoiled your appetites.”

The boy murmured a hasty, “Sorry, sir,” and a mumbled excuse to Davindra, then took off, not looking behind him. Davindra remained at her spot against the wall, but with her arms crossed and a look of angry impatience aimed at Snape. He leveled a wicked smirk back at her and crooked his finger in command that she follow him.

With a sigh of disgust, she picked up her book bag and followed him down to his office. Once inside she put on her best surly attitude and didn’t look at him or speak.

Snape found himself wishing for a shot of calming draught or Firewhisky to make his unconcerned exterior easier to hold. But he dare not partake in front of her because she undoubtedly would see it as weakness.

“Miss Collins,” he started in a business-like tone, “after some consideration, I believe that your concerns regarding your grandmother may indeed be worth investigating. I too have noticed increasingly odd behavior from her and have wondered of its nature. Again, I’m sorry for my abruptness when we last spoke, but you did catch me at a bad time. On reflection, I think any information you could relay to me would be beneficial in ensuring your protection as well as that of your family.”

He ended with a slight, thin, pained smile that he knew never came anywhere close to settling in his murky, black eyes.

Davindra cocked her head and shot him an unimpressed look. “Really, now? Another apology. That means either you are terribly slow on the up-take and actually feel bad for being a prick or you want something from me. I vote for the latter!”

Snape felt his smile turn into a sneer. “Language, Miss Collins. You could garner an unpleasant detention for insulting a teacher so viciously.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped her bag to the floor. “Do your worst, sir,” she said with a dramatic opening of her arms and shake of her hair. “But first tell me what it is that you are wanting from me this time.”

An insolent fury began to brew inside Snape, and he found himself sliding around his desk to face her, his eyes burning slits of malice and his teeth bared.

“And what exactly were you attempting to gain with that lewd display right outside my door?”

A cock of her eyebrow and an unflappable smirk told him that she was not concerned with his rage. “Actually, I think I got what I was hoping for by the looks of you.”

Snape gave her a deathly glare. “I have no idea what you are talking about except that I am finding your childish games tiresome and pathetic. It will be your own problem if you transform yourself into the Hogwarts whore.”

She only chuckled at his bitter words, causing him to feel even more violent loathing for her.

“Remember I told you that after six years, I have learned quite a bit about you,” she said calmly. “Just last summer I realized you had a trait that was going to be most useful to me in my quest. And funny, it’s been in front of me all the time! I just didn’t recognize it.”

Her eyes sparkled triumphantly as she spoke, and Snape felt a cold nausea uncoil in his stomach when he realized how much she reminded him of Madame Collins just then.

“You, Severus Snape, are insanely possessive of whatever you assume to be yours. And strangely enough, you don’t even care about it or feel territorial until someone tries to take it from you.” She was starting to speak in an animated, precise way much like a lecturer would do in a great classroom. Her enthusiasm for the dissemination of this bit of insight into him was vaguely frightening.

“But if you perceive any threat to your property, you become single mindedly obsessed to keep it within your grasp at all costs. It nearly drives you insane until you’ve annihilated all challengers to your rights.”

She stepped a little closer to him and continued her knowing smile. When she again spoke, her voice was alarmingly low and soft.

“You know what I want from you, Severus. And if I have to snog every boy in this school to get it, I will.”

Still closer she came, leaning in to whisper into his ear. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll fuck anyone who will have me.”

Davindra pulled away, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips. “Maybe if that doesn’t do it, it will at least erase the memory of you from my mind.”

Before he knew what he had done, Snape had flown at the girl and slammed her body into the door several feet behind them. His hand came over her mouth to stop any more disgusting filth from spewing forth. She seemed stunned at his sudden attack and struggled for breath beneath his hand, her eyes wide with frightened surprise.

It took several seconds for him to even find his voice amongst the furious chaos inside his head.

“You vindictive little cunt,” he snarled between panting gasps for air. “Your punishment should be to have exactly what you wish for.”

He took his hand from her mouth only to immediately cover it with his own in a hard, suffocating kiss. Muffled gasps for air sounded from under her lips as Snape forced his way into her depths to aggressively wrestling his tongue against hers.

Keeping her body crushed under him, he held her head in place with his hands, his fingers gnarled into her hair. She was unable to move against him. But his angry kisses didn’t paralyze her with fear. He could tell that her lips conformed themselves to his own and her tongue returned his strokes. Her arms went around him to clutch desperately.

‘I should have known she would enjoy being mauled like a common piece of trash,’ he thought lasciviously as he kissed her harder and allowed one hand to trail down her body to her breast.

Her quiet groan of pleasure vibrated against his mouth and sent a hot jet of desire straight into his groin. The pulsating pressure of his erection called like an insistent alarm, demanding to be heeded. With hands nearly shaking from need, Snape reached under his long coat and unfastened his pants. Taking her hand in his, he shoved it into the depths of his trousers and gripped her fingers around his aching shaft. Just the sensation of her cool hand on him made him shudder with anticipated pleasure.

The kisses unabated, Snape moved Davindra’s hand in slow, firm strokes. Keeping a tight grasp on them both, he showed her the way he wanted to be touched. His own gasps of lust and longing sounding against her lips. Soon, Snape removed his hand from hers and allowed her to continue her newly acquired skill.

As his body began to tense and tingle in the apex of his desire, Snape found his kisses softening and becoming more languid and indulgent. He was kissing her face, her neck, and her ear as he panted and prayed for release. His breath caught when the orgasm sprang from deep inside him and groaned loudly as it deliciously released itself in exquisite bursts of ecstasy. He felt as if a lifetime’s worth of caged desire had been mercifully freed, and his body sagged against Davindra’s in weak, thankful submission.

But slowly he regained himself and pulled his head up to look into her eyes, now glassy with unrequited need. Her hand still rested inside his pants, covered in his semen. Snape placed his own hands on either side of the door they leaned against and gave her the hardest stare he could muster after such deflating pleasure.

“If we do this, we do it my way, by my rules,” he began in a raspy, yet firm voice. “You will have no control over when, how, where or why. You will attempt no more of your childish mind games on me. You will obey my every command.”

Mutely, Davindra nodded, her eyes fixating on his lips as though she only wished to feel them on her once again.

“This relationship will only exist within these walls. Outside of it I am nothing more than your teacher. You will treat me no differently than you have the last six years when we are anything but alone. Likewise, I will not change how you are treated in the classroom and halls. Getting caught is not an option. If anyone even suspects anything, it is over.”

Again she nodded.

“And don’t expect any romantic prose or sentiments from me, for you will be disappointed. This is not your conquest fulfilled. This is an arrangement of convenient desires.”

Finally, she spoke in a soft shaky voice. “When?”

He knew she wanted to know of their next encounter. He thought for a moment.

“The next Hogsmeade weekend. Make an excuse not to go. You’re sick or have to do a report. Then you will come to me.”

He gave her a cold, unfathomable look as he pulled away and reached for his wand to clean them both.

Davindra didn’t move from her place against the door, as though he had permanently imbedded her into it. A look of pained desire remained on her face.

Snape smiled wickedly. ‘Let her nurse a little tortured lust for a while and see how it feels.’

“You’re excused, Miss Collins,” he drawled smoothly.

Weakly, Davindra peeled herself from the door and staggered to her bag, which she picked up off the floor. With a bitter, longing gaze, she slowly turned to leave his office.

“And, by the way,” Snape interjected, suddenly remembering the point of their meeting, “please do inform me of any more suspicions you have about your grandmother. It seems that it will be quite useful after all.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Afterward Snape felt strangely at peace with the arrangement set out before them. He knew he should be wracked with guilt, shame, disgust, and even regret. But instead he had a strong sense of relief. At least one of his fights was over. There would be no more battles of wills to see who would break first and who would be driven over the edge from rage and jealousy. With all the directions that Snape felt he was being pulled in, relinquishing the front line on this particular war was liberating.

His only worry would be to keep the relationship quiet. He wasn’t the first and only staff member to have had an illicit affair with a student. He had heard many stories through the years. But it would be the first for him, and now was not the time to incur Dumbledore’s wrath and be out of a job. The entire expanse of his skin prickled with forbidden excitement at the prospect of skirting such danger. Snape found himself quite looking forward to the next Hogsmeade weekend.

The mass breakout at Azkaban was a startling blow to the Order. Old members of the Dark Lord’s forces such as the LeStranges, Dolohov, and Rookwood would prove to be as deadly as the master they were so quickly flocking to. The Azkaban guards, the Dementors, were more than likely now on the side of the Dark One. The one place in the world that allowed wizards to feel as though there was some modicum of safety left between them and true evil was now breached.

When Snape answered the call to a gloriously happy Dark Lord, he saw for himself the former Death Eaters who were equally enraptured with their new freedom. Smug, arrogant Bellatrix LeStrange fought for her place closest to the master’s feet and gazed at him with such delirious pride and awe that Snape believed he might be ill. When her eyes fell on Snape, she resumed her usual haughty snarl. At one time sexy and alluring, prison had reduced her to simply hard and worn, though her manner still spoke of confident pride.

There had been a bizarre chemistry between them in the old days of their service together. They had never liked, trusted, or respected one another, but biting innuendo and bawdy insult always seemed to signal a twisted curiosity they had for each other. For all her talk about pure-blood superiority, Snape always figured he could have had her if he wished; her husband, Rodolphus, hardly an issue. But he suspected that, even in the bedroom, Bellatrix took the position of dominance, and Snape had no desire to find himself tied spread-eagle on a bed and at her mercy.

Dumbledore was greatly distressed to hear of the rising number of experienced Death Eaters who were joining ranks in the plan to steal the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. Snape hated to give him the further bad news that Harry Potter’s dreams were only allowing the Dark Lord more progress into the boy’s mind and that his Occlumency talent was still unimpressive.

By the day of the Hogsmeade trip, Snape was nearly twitching with nervous energy in search of an outlet. When Davindra appeared at his office door late that morning, he attempted to look impassive and unmoved. But he felt positively electric. She looked somewhere between anxious and terrified. And she looked pretty, Snape had to admit. Obviously, she had gone to some effort for this meeting. Her hair was loose, and she wore a pull-over top of pale green, her make up was minimal but effective, and a sweet, fruity fragrance floated about the air around her.

Snape didn’t speak to her, but simply rose from his desk where he had been attempting to work, and headed to the door to his chambers. He held it open and turned to indicate for her to go ahead of him. She took in a shaky breath and walked ahead with her head held bravely.

Down the dark stairway to his personal chambers they went in equal silence. Once inside they still did not speak for several moments. She looked around at his room, perhaps remembering the last time she was there.

It wasn’t a large space but it was comfortable enough. A small sitting area with a few worn chairs and a small table for eating. Set off to the side was the sleeping area with his bed and wardrobe. A large fireplace gave enough warmth for the entire room, though Snape liked it cool when he slept, so it wasn’t used much. It was furnished sparsely but cluttered in various spots with books, papers, potions supplies, and clothing. The house-elves weren’t due back in for another week. But he hadn’t wanted it to look as though he had prepared for this event anyway.

He moved to take off his robe and drape it over a chair. “What did you tell your friends today?” he asked.

“I said I didn’t feel well and that I was going to see Madam Pomfrey,” she replied.

“You don’t look bad enough to be ill,” he commented.

She smiled. “I stopped at one of the bathrooms on the way.”

“It’s not as though that were necessary.” He put a sneering edge to his voice, but deep down he was slightly flattered.

They stood the room’s width apart, their eyes darting about everywhere but on each other.

‘Fuck, this was so much less awkward when I just forced myself on her! This is why I don’t date.’ Snape raged to himself.

Davindra wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s rather cold. Do you think we could have a fire?”

Grateful for something to do, Snape nodded and waved his wand at the empty hearth. A blazing fire immediately began to fill the room with added light and a radiating warmth.

She moved closer to it. She appeared to be shaking, though Snape doubted it was honestly from the cold. Suddenly, he did feel guilty and he did feel ashamed.

“Miss Collins, perhaps you really aren’t well,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you had better go back to your dormitory.”

Davindra looked at him with a startled expression. “No! No, I’m fine. I’m just… nervous,” she ended with an unsure smile.

Snape sighed. “I’ll give you one more chance to walk out of here,” he said. “Then after that, there will be no turning back. You must be very sure of yourself, Davindra.”

Her eyes finally found his, and she nodded with a serious manner. “I know.” Her voice was soft and light. “I’m sure.”

Turning from the fire, Davindra walked to his bed. Snape’s eyes followed her. She began stripping off her clothes in a casual way, as though she were preparing herself for a night’s sleep. The top came over her head, revealing a white bra. The shoes were kicked off and her pants unfastened and pushed down her legs. Free of everything, she began straightening the bed linens and finally sat down, pulling the sheets to her chest.

Snape hadn’t moved from his own spot near the fireplace as he had watched her routine. She sat looking at him expectantly. It was his move now. Slowly he began unbuttoning his coat. Doing it by hand instead of using his wand was buying him some time to think, to calm himself. She watched him with growing warmth and reverence as he moved closer and finally slid the heavy coat from his body and tossed it to a chair.

At the side of the bed, he stood staring down at her. Her skin looked like creamy velvet in the soft light of the fire; her eyes flickered not unlike the flames that cast its reflection in them. Again she smiled with assurance. Snape reached out a hand to touch her and found her cheek pressed against his palm, his fingers in her hair.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her face near him. For several seconds he examined her from a perspective so close that her features blurred. In that blurry moment he shut off every sound of regret or worry that had spoken to him since she had arrived. He wanted to again lose himself in pure unadulterated need and desire as he had done the first time she had been there. It wasn’t hard to find. The moment his lips touched hers, he found the aching passion rose in him so swiftly it nearly made him breathless.

Next they were intertwined together; her naked body, the sheets, his long limbs, and his disheveled but unshed clothes. Hungrily they pawed and clawed at each other, their mouths seeking sustenance of some higher nourishment than mere food or drink could ever give.

Davindra’s passion overtook any lack of experience she suffered from, and Snape found her touches and exploration startlingly mature. If it were possible for him to be any closer to ecstasy, she would undoubtedly take him there simply with the stroke of her hand against his flesh.

Hoping to slow the pace of adventure, Snape pinned her wrists to her side as he let his mouth taste, kiss, and discover every part of her body. Sounds of surprise, pleasure, and even discomfort spurred him on his path until he found himself pressing his lips into the dark, silky curls between her legs. Any doubt or mistrust in his intentions was forgotten as his tongue began to stroke in alternating flicks and circles.

Soon her hand was in his hair and her breathless, pleading voice begged him not to stop. At that point he would have pledged his life to the pursuit of her pleasure. Her heat and wetness drove his own need to almost the breaking point.

In desperate, trembling cries she came. Snape thought with satisfaction that it was probably for the first time at the hands of someone else.

Immediately he was prepared to enter her and again experience the intoxicating sensation of her young, tight body. This time she was far more ready for him, and any cries she gave were of continued pleasure and want.

He kissed her wildly, the residual salty moisture on his face from her pleasure now smeared onto her own. She responded in equal fervor, either uncaring of the mess or enjoying the lewdness of sharing each other so intimately.

Snape felt himself climaxing far more quickly than he would have liked. But the building pressure was advancing at a rush that he felt powerless to control. When the rapturous event was over and he overcame the brief moment of not even remembering where he was or who he was with, he looked down at the face below him.

Hair snarled about her head and make-up smeared, she was undeniably still beautiful. Snape slid from her body to lie beside of her. Immediately he missed her warmth and held out his arm for her to rest against his chest. She snuggled into him contentedly.

Neither spoke and the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire. Finally she rose up on her elbows to look at him. Keeping his face expressionless, he gazed back.

Her smile was both demure and wanton. “That was bloody fantastic.” She laughed and blushed at her own candor.

Snape resisted his own smile and simply raised his eyebrows in apathy. “Your participation level has improved at least,” he replied in a dry manner.

“So it does get better,” she said, the smile still plastered upon her face.

“As I said, it depends.”

Reaching out, Davindra stroked a few strands of his hair from his face. Her fingers floated into his hair, then traced a line down his face. Snape allowed the attention without rebuke or response. She ended her caress with a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Remember our last conversation regarding your grandmother’s possible Dark activities?” he asked informally.

Davindra nodded and continued her trail of touches to the open area of his shirt. When her fingers began to trace the outline of an old hex scar, Snape took her hand in his to still its progress.

“Is there anything more you can tell me? Do you know anything about who she may have met or things she may have done?”

Lazily entwining her fingers in his, she sighed. “I can’t think of anything else, really. The thing is she won’t talk about anything, which is what is so unusual. Normally, she is full of gossip and stories about the people she sees or work she does. That’s what’s so odd. She’s suddenly become secretive.”

“You know you can trust me with anything,” he reminded her. “There is no reason to be afraid. We can make sure you and your mother are protected.”

“We?” she asked with interest.

“We as in others besides just myself,” he replied.

“So you really are working against the Dark Lord,” she asked, worry tinged her words and eyes.

Snape pulled her body on top of his. “There are many thing that you will be best kept ignorant of. The things I do outside of Hogwarts are one of them.”

He put his hands in her long hair and combed them through, ignoring the look of sadness on her face.

“Now, tell me,” he asked casually, “are you familiar with the term 'fellatio?' ”

She wasn’t. But true to her character, she was a very quick study.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And so it began. They dove into the most dangerous relationship conceivable during the most difficult time and in the least private environment possible. It was intoxicating. Snape felt drunk on bootleg liquor, giddy from illegal hallucinogens. He found himself looking at his entire week’s schedule with a sharp eye for any time he could sneak Davindra into his chambers for just a few hours.

When he could find the time, it was like injecting a calming draught directly into his veins. Potter was no better in his Occlumency skills. Umbridge was on the verge of taking over the school, which was plagued by rebellious pandemonium. The Dark Lord and fellow Death Eaters demanded more proof of his loyalty, and the Order demanded more information as to the Dark Lord’s plans. The Slytherin Quidditch team was performing appallingly, and Neville Longbottom had almost single-handedly destroyed the Potions classroom.

But when Snape held Davindra’s long, lean body against him, slipped inside, and felt her hands roam about him and her breathy moans in his ear, the entire world could have disintegrated into ash, and Snape could not have cared less. It was time that was solely his and only about him, for him. It was the one truly selfish, hedonistic pleasure he had allowed himself in some time.

Pleasantly surprising was the fact that she seemed as sexually veracious as he, despite her inexperience. Her curiosity and interest in sex allowed him to suggest and do most anything he pleased. In most instances it was a successful endeavor, which was added to the expanding repertoire of activities to be drawn from later. There was only one request from her, which came a few weeks into their arrangement.

They lay in the bed after another gloriously fulfilling round of sexual exchange, when she said to him, “Why don’t you ever take off your clothes?”

He gave her an unexpressive look and in a dead-pan voice said, “I’m shy.”

Normally, he had no inhibitions, but for some reason the awareness of his aging, scarred, thin, pale body seemed unworthy in her presence.

Davindra rolled her eyes. “Right. I am always completely starkers, and you remain almost fully clothed. That’s not particularly fair. Is it the scars and tattoos? It’s not like I don’t know about them. So, I don’t understand what you’re trying to hiding. And it’s not like I didn’t spent the last six years wondering and fantasizing about what was under all those layers of black.”

Snape gave her an aggravated look. She returned one of equal impatience. If she really wanted to see it all, he shouldn’t deny her the ugly truth. If she ran screaming, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t be affected. Giving a growl of annoyance, Snape sat up and tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. The already open pants, he pushed down his legs and sent them over the edge too. Now as bare as she, he laid back down, giving her a full view and a wave of his hands in invitation to judge.

She did look slightly taken aback. But instead of turning away, she gently reached out and touched a tattoo of a snake that started near his stomach and coiled around his side to end on his lower back. Then her hands went to a long scar that ran diagonally across his chest. Next she traced the faded, squiggly numbers over his heart that were inked into him after his arrival at Azkaban. A flourish of very old cigarette burns on his upper arms caught her attention next.

Snape watched for signs of revulsion and horror, but instead saw only amazement and sad awareness.

“I don’t need your pity,” he reminded her darkly.

Davindra looked to his face, shook her head, and smiled softly. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

His first response was to toss her bodily from his bed for such cheek. Then he almost felt the urge to laugh. But her face held so much honesty; he feared worst of all that she spoke what she really believed.

To accentuate her words, she leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the numbers on his chest, then the nearest scar, then down his stomach. Finally she spied his left forearm and pulled it up to gaze at the inky Dark Mark. Snape felt an urge to pull away from her, his most shameful defacement now under her scrutiny. When she leaned in and placed an equally delicate kiss against the now quiet serpent and skull, Snape felt his breath catch. Her tongue began to trace the outline of the Mark, and he felt his blood grow hot under her caress. For nearly an hour she explored and worshiped every part of him that captured her eye, never once seeming anything but in awe and reverence at the inscriptions of cruelty that he bore.

However, there was another, surprising side to these stolen moments of carnal consumption. When time allowed, they talked. Snape thought it the most unusual aspect of their relationship for he had never both fucked AND talked to any woman in his life. But she inspired it in him. Sometimes it was conversations about potions and ingredients. Other times the topics were as broad as the history of alchemy or ancient wizards and legends. And there was the endlessly fascinating topic of Hogwarts gossip, in which Snape always insisted he had no interest, but could never help getting caught up in the sordid details of the various rivals, love affairs, secrets, and catastrophes of the student body. And though he would never divulge such information about his fellow staff, Snape did sometimes repeat old stories about former faculty that had been passed on to him. Occasionally she asked of his childhood or his years at school, but he often cleverly avoided answering her, instead inquiring of her own experiences.

Soon, their precious time would be gone and Snape would order her to go, but with words far more harsh than his heart required. During one lazy weekend afternoon, Davindra seemed especially resistant to leave his bed. She stayed sprawled out on her stomach under the sheets even after several orders to dress and long after Snape himself was fully clothed.

Finally Snape tore the sheet from the bed, leaving her completely exposed, and delivered a sharp smack to her bare ass, which caused her to jump in shock and pain.

“Up! I won’t tell you again,” he shouted, a little more venom coming to his words.

Slowly, with a snarled brow, she pulled herself up from the bed. Only then did Snape notice a strange mark above her right buttocks. It was dusky pink, about the size of a coin, and shaped like a sort of goblet.

“What is that?” he asked.

“What?”

“That mark above your ass,” he said, touching the flat, smooth mark.

“Oh, that’s my birthmark!” she said reaching back to touch it herself. “Doesn’t it look like a chalice or cup? I’ve always had it.”

“I hadn’t noticed that particular deformity before,” he commented glibly, finding it hard to not stare at the unusual defect.

“Deformity?” she gasped in mock offense. “I always thought it was sort of cute. But I’m surprised,” she replied, finally beginning to step into her clothes. “You’ve had that substantial nose of yours just about everywhere on me. Can’t believe you would have missed anything.”

They exchanged sneering smiles. When she finished dressing, Davindra came to him and wrapped her arms around him in a ferocious hug and a long, sensuous kiss.

“Again soon?” she asked of their next engagement.

“We’ll see,” he uttered coolly. “And don’t let anyone see you leaving here.”

She kissed him again and left his chambers.

Snape snorted a laugh at his own pathetic acting skills. From this moment on he would think of little else but the next time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape sat in his office with the latest copy of the Quibbler in his hands. Never before had he given the atrocious rag a second look. But since Potter had given a full interview to the newly resurfaced Rita Skeeter, it suddenly had new credibility amongst many people. Surprisingly, almost all the facts seemed correct, given what Snape knew. Dumbledore had seemed mildly amused and even impressed at the article and Potter’s audacity. The Dark Lord would be far less impressed. Perhaps even more so than Dolores Umbridge who at that moment was on a stark raving fit to confiscate every copy of the Quibbler she could get her little stubby-fingered hands on.

Occlumency lessons had continued on a disappointing level except for a few moments of success. But the information that Potter stored in his head under the delusion of only a dream was actually valuable for Dumbledore and the Order to know. If only Snape could spend more time inside looking about. As it was, he had mistakenly allowed the boy a brief glimpse into his own distant past, which proved embarrassing. But it did show some progress. Not that Hero Potter appreciated it. His glares and snide remarks told Snape that he was reluctantly learning this task. If only Dumbledore would tell the blasted child the real reason, he might actually make an effort. As it was, Snape and Potter both felt they were wasting their time.

Umbridge managed to finally get rid of Professor Trelawney, or at least she attempted to. It was a pitiful sight, the Divinations teacher shrieking like a child in front of every single resident of Hogwarts. Though no one was surprised by the event, most everyone felt shame and loathing that it had to come about that way. No one there would have trouble choosing sides when Umbridge was on one of them. The staff was greatly unnerved after the incident because they all knew any one of them could be next.

Despite everyone’s heightened paranoia and strict new rules appearing every day, Davindra and Snape started to become careless about their meetings. It started with a few heavily heated make-out sessions in his office when neither schedule allowed for any lengthy time together and became like a new facet of the game. Suddenly it was incredibly arousing to see how far they could go before someone suspected something. It ranged from him brushing past her in Potions class and letting his hand trail against her ass to actually meeting on the edge of the Forbidden Forest while the rest of the school was at a Quidditch match for a quick tussle against a tree where Snape ended up with grass stains on his knees and Davindra had scrapes on her backside from the rough bark.

Each time he would later say that they couldn’t take that chance again. But then he’d find her alone in a corner of the library on a quiet evening, and his mind and his hands simply would not obey. And she was never one to admonish any of his advances.

When Snape was called to the Headmaster’s office, his first thought was that he had been seen; they had been found out. Panic raced through him, and he pulled every Occlumency mind clearing and relaxation trick he knew to prepare himself for a confrontation.

He was no less surprised to walk into Dumbledore’s office to find Madame Collins awaiting his arrival along with the old wizard.

“Madame Collins,” Snape managed with calm ease, “what brings you here? Is there a problem with your granddaughter?”

Dumbledore looked placid as ever and gave no early clue as to what might be on the agenda.

“Actually, Severus,” the woman began in an equally soothing voice, “I’m here to clear the air.”

Snape looked to Dumbledore, then back to Madame Collins. “I beg your pardon?”

“I hear that you have been inquiring of me and my activities,” she went on. “There is some suspicion that I could be practicing some dark deeds or associating with an undesirable sort.”

At least he could rule out anything involving Davindra, but now he had to set his mind to the real matter at hand. He kept his eyes at a constant dark chill, though he allowed his face to relax into a thoughtful scowl. Again his eyes darted to Dumbledore who remained impassive.

“Severus, if you or Albus wanted to know such things, I would have preferred you ask me yourselves.” In her voice was a well rehearsed pained remorse that Snape had learned to never believe. “Instead you spy on me and ask questions of my friends and even suggest my own granddaughter distrust me!”

“As I said, Madame,” Dumbledore finally interjected. “I was doubtful of the idea, but we couldn’t let it go unheeded if true. If you honestly were in league with the Dark Lord, we couldn’t have just come out and asked you such a thing and remained subversive.”

Madame Collins turned to face Snape. “But, Severus, you? You of all people to suspect such a thing?” Her speech was only missing a handkerchief for her to wring as she sobbed miserably and perhaps collapsed onto the floor. “You who I’ve known since you were eleven, who I entrusted my own granddaughter to.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at her. They both knew she was spreading it on very thick. She had said to his face that she didn’t hold loyalty to anyone and that the reason she chose him to tutor her granddaughter was because of his dark knowledge.

“I was even willing to give you what information I had on Lucius Malfoy and any other Death Eater who I might come across. How could that be construed as dark support?”

“I do apologize for the misinformation,” Snape said smoothly, though he continued to shoot daggers in her direction.

Madame Collins nodded and seemed to take a moment to calm herself. “I thought we had a much better understanding then that, Severus. Why, after I even gave you Tom Riddle’s book,” she said softly, her eyes darting to Dumbledore.

Snape could have struck her dead. Instead his hands remained clenched behind his back.

“You did tell Albus about the book, didn’t you?” she asked with shock.

Now both the Headmaster and Madame Collins eyed him with interest.

“Sir, a few years ago, Madame Collins gave me a book she claimed belonged to Tom Riddle. One which she had confiscated from none other than James Potter, but had decided to keep for herself. Perhaps she had grown nervous about its possession, and she asked that I keep it safe and I have done so.”

Madame Collins managed her own glare at him for attempting to drag her down with him in the story.

“My not mentioning it was an oversight on my part,” Snape continued. “And also an attempt to protect Madame’s misjudgment. In all honesty, Headmaster, it had slipped my mind since I have had it hidden away for nearly five years now.” Snape remained calm and humble in his speech.

“Perhaps I should see this book, Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly.

Snape nodded and left the room, but not before he gave Madame Collins a look that promised a worse revenge than she could ever conceive in that twisted mind of hers.

When Snape returned with the book, Madame Collins had gone, much to his relief.

“Where did she go?” Snape asked suspiciously.

“She said she wanted a bit of time with Davindra since she hasn’t seen her much lately,” Dumbledore replied.

He held his hand out for the book, which Snape relinquished.

“Severus, why didn’t you tell me about this?” There was honest disappointment in the old wizard’s voice.

“I would have eventually, sir,” Suddenly he did feel sheepish about keeping it from the Headmaster’s knowledge. “But I have no excuse for my delay.”

“Anything that can give us any insight into Lord Voldemort’s mind is extremely valuable,” Dumbledore reminded as he leafed through the book. “Have you done any of these potions?”

Snape froze. “I tried a calming draught that is actually a hallucinogenic nightmare potion and the Coacto Fides a few years ago.”

“Did they work?”

“I can unequivocally say the nightmare draught works quite well. I didn’t have a chance to do a proper test of the other.” He purposefully didn’t mention the test subject of the belief potion or the Vision Well and hoped Dumbledore suspected nothing more.

“Horcruxes,” the Headmaster muttered in amazement. “Oh, great Merlin.”

“Sir?” Snape noticed the old wizard looked a little more pale than normal.

“Of course, this is how he did it. I’ve always known.” He then said loudly, “Severus, do you realize what this is?” he then asked firmly, waving the book at Snape.

Snape continued to stare at the Headmaster, afraid of what the answer was.

“This is basically Voldemort’s playbook! Everything he compiled while at school which he planned to use after his rise to power.” There was a sudden excitement and electricity in the Headmaster.

“Had I realized…” Snape began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter now, Severus. We have much to do. I’ll need this book for now. But am I right in assuming that you’ve copied every potion and spell in this book for your own records?” There was an accusing yet mischievous twinkle in the old man’s eye.

Snape felt himself grow hot and was thankful that he had yet to blush in all his life. He pursed his lips and stared at the omnipotent old wizard. “Of course.”

“You are nothing if not predictable in your quest for knowledge, Severus,” Dumbledore smiled.

“Sir, I apologize…”

“Don’t, there’s no time for it now,” Dumbledore said, holding up his hand. “But this won’t be a mistake you will make again, I’m sure.

“No, sir,” Snape seethed in anger hot enough to boil his blood, though he kept it completely contained. “Sir, about Madame Collins,” he began.

The Headmaster had gone back to flipping through the book. “Yes, I know. This is as much her fault as yours. She gave you this book and told you to tell no one, which you kept your word on. Then when she felt you might have reason to turn on her, she decided to beat you to the punch and turn you out to me,” he commented almost absent-mindedly as his eyes stayed on the pages in front of him. But he raised them when he continued. “A most cowardly action that speaks mountains about her character and sways my belief in her integrity greatly. We’ll continue to watch her.”

Dumbledore paused and then nodded slightly, which was a signal that he was done with the Potions master. Snape turned to leave, his first thought was to find Madame Collins before she left the school.

“Severus,” the Headmaster’s voice called out before he had reached the door. “I will have no need to watch you, will I?” There was a dark promise in his voice, which made the question sound like a command.

Snape turned. “I have always assumed you did anyway.”

The majestic wizard nodded his head just once with a knowing smile and then returned to his new possession.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape never did catch up with Madame Collins, but he found Davindra sitting in the chilly courtyard looking almost shell-shocked. With new, more guarded care of his manner towards her in the open, he slowly walked to her and stopped several steps in front of the bench she occupied.

She looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. “What was she doing here?” There was a hollow panic in her voice.

“Selling me out to Professor Dumbledore,” he replied.

Davindra got up with a hiss of breath and did a caged pace of the walk nearest them. “Does she know about us?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

“She was acting very strange. She said that Mother and Granny Lilly had plans to go to Croatia or someplace like that for dragon watching this summer and I’d be with her for most of the time. She said she would help me prepare for my N.E.W.T.s. But there is something going on. She was different, cold and brusque.” Almost as in reaction to her own words, Davindra shuddered.

“She said nothing to Professor Dumbledore or me about any suspicions, but she knows that she is suspected of alliance with the Dark Lord. She attempted to prove her favor by divulging to the Headmaster one of our private agreements.” There was still much bitterness in his voice as he spoke of it.

Davindra turned and looked at him with nervous horror. “Did you get into trouble?”

Snape rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as though he were a student dragged in for cheating on a test. “The Headmaster might not have been happy, but he also saw through your grandmother’s scheme. We are still very aware of her dualities.”

She stepped closer to him to whisper, “Severus, I’m frightened. I don’t want to have to spend a whole summer alone with her.”

The fact actually frightened him too. He resisted the urge to hold her or even touch her.

“We’ll try to figure out something before the time comes,” he said, knowing it wasn’t nearly comfort enough. “Right now I have my own crisis to tend to.”

Before he left, he took one more glimpse at her, standing helpless and unsure, looking for him to protect and guide her through a mess he wasn’t sure he himself would ever come out of.

“For the time being, we should lay low,” he said very quietly. “I’ll tell you when I think the circumstances have changed.”

He didn’t stay around to watch her melt into disappointment and confusion. But he knew it existed in her even from across the distance he quickly walked to separate them.

Madame Potion: Chapter Twelve

2007-03-05T23:09:36Z

Year Six: The Truth Enslaved

The reprieve was only a couple of days. Only a few short days for Snape to sequester himself in his house and see and speak to no one. He spent hours upon hours lying in bed thinking and periodically dozing. Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, Davindra, and Madame Collins floated in and out of his consciousness.

Sometimes he would hold his bare forearm up and stare at the Dark Mark stained onto his skin. Snape would allow his mind to go back to those years right out of Hogwarts when he wanted recognition and respect so badly he was willing to do anything for it. So he had sold himself cheaply to a master who gave him quick and easy promise of it. Now he was forever indentured for something he would never attain. His arm felt heavy, like it was bound in lead chains. He would let it limply fall to the bed. Snape doubted he would live to see freedom again.

When his brain got too overwhelmed with things from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and he began to forget what promises belonged to whom, he would allow himself to crawl into the delicious memory of Davindra. His hectic life had kept him from putting much thought into the tryst they had experienced. There wasn’t enough of his brain or heart left free to devote to dwelling upon the matter. Mostly, he was glad of it. But in those quiet times when his thoughts would nearly drive him mad, it was glorious comfort to take himself back to that incredible moment when nothing else mattered and no one existed besides the two of them.

He couldn’t blame her for hating him. It was exactly what his words were intended to inspire. It was better that way, rather than her go on attempting to trail behind him because of some stupid concept of love or devotion. She would only get hurt, perhaps even killed. Loving him was detrimental to anyone, it seemed.

When even these thoughts became too much, there was still the memory of her flesh. The warmth and softness still registered in his fingers. Her light, sweet, fruity-vanilla scent still resided in his senses. The texture and taste of her skin and lips danced tauntingly on his tongue. The ring of dark green around the icy, pale iris of her eyes, the way her body fitted against him, the smell of her hair, her kisses, her kisses, her kisses, her kisses.

In the end, that memory would no longer inspire contentment but instead a gnawing, ardent hunger for something that he could never again have. He would soon find himself feeling spent, exhaling ragged breaths, and holding a wilting erection, covered in his own fluid.

Eventually the Dark Mark sang its fiery beckoning, and Snape knew he could linger no more in his own sanctuary of self-pity. Bidding his dreary home another seasonal good-bye, he headed off to fall at the feet of a merciless master.

Always the Dark Lord wanted information that Snape didn’t possess and was reluctant to believe Snape’s ignorance. Dumbledore did him a favor by not telling him many sensitive things, such as certain members of the Ministry who were Order contacts or the hiding places of certain weapons. The wise Headmaster knew that even the best Occlumens could be broken, and therefore, no one person, outside of Dumbledore, knew everything.

Even though the Dark Lord was not relying on Snape to the fullest extent, that didn’t mean that Snape wasn’t privy to important information. Death Eaters were vain, insecure parasites who felt the need to brag to each other about the amount of trust the Dark Lord put in them. This supplied most of the best information Snape had to give the Order. And because Lucius Malfoy was the biggest braggart of them all, Snape was able to come to Dumbledore with the most useful piece of information yet.

The Dark One wanted the prophecy. He wanted it in its original, completed form. And he planned to take it from its safe-keeping in the Department of Mysteries. It seemed that the Lord still smarted from Snape’s partial delivery of the prophecy fourteen years earlier and now felt like he could undo the mistakes of the past if he only possessed that which had brought him down. At last the Order would have a clear mission to follow.

Dumbledore ordered Snape to make a full, detailed report to the Order as soon as possible. It would mean a trip to Sirius Black’s house and surrounding himself with people who neither liked nor trusted him. Sometimes he hated Dumbledore for his insistence on his faith in him and the wizard’s stubbornness that others accept Snape as readily as he with no proof of allegiance. Though everyone would listen to Snape’s reports and seem eager for the information he gave, he had the feeling that without the Headmaster’s backing, he would not be allowed in their midst. In fact, they would probably have him on the top of their list to eradicate, right under the name of the Dark Lord himself.

As usual, meetings of the Order always ended up in debates over the protection of Harry Potter and who was on guard next and who had seen what when they’d last guarded him. Snape generally shut out this particular discussion because he felt that he paid his dues guarding the obnoxious prat during school time.

After another weary gathering of bickering, discussion, and pep-talks, everyone stood about in groups discussing everything from gossip at the Ministry to how their garden was suffering from the lack of rain. Snape talked to no one and was organizing his notes to leave when he felt the eyes of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin on him. The two old friends would look at Snape then speak in quiet tones to each other. They made no attempt to hide their blatant slandering. Snape glared back and finished gathering his notes.

“You’re welcome to stay and have a bite to eat, Severus.” Molly Weasley appeared at his arm, tying on an apron. Her wide, childish face held a smile of trepidation not unlike the simple expressions he had seen on her offspring.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Snape replied grimly, casting a scowl in the gossiping pair’s direction.

He attempted to move on through the small clumps of people in the dim kitchen, but the clearest path took him right past Black and Lupin.

“You know, you look like you could use a good meal,” Lupin said casually when Snape walked near. “Mrs. Weasley is an excellent cook. Does things with potatoes that I didn’t think possible.”

“Thanks for the warning, Lupin,” he sneered in reply. “But I don’t think any of us can stomach a meal whilst in present company.”

“Quite right,” Black piped in, leveling a dark glare at Snape. “I suffer from enough indigestion as it is listening to Snivellus’s reports.”

The two men stared at each other viciously for a few seconds.

“So,” Snape began with a wicked smirk, “how’s the cleaning coming, Black? That house-elf managed to teach you a thing or two about dusting and sweeping, especially since you can’t be of any real use to the Order?”

Immediately Lupin put himself between the two wizards who had started for each other, their wands out, and looks of murder in their eyes.

“Alright, you two, I think that’s enough,” he said in calm yet firm voice that Snape had heard him use on students while he held his position at Hogwarts. “What would Dumbledore say about a full-blown brawl here in the middle of headquarters. There was supposed to be a truce, wasn’t there? His orders were for no open hostility.”

“It’s his fault,” Black hissed through clenched teeth while jabbing a bony finger in Snape’s face. “He shouldn’t even BE here!”

Snape started to throw an equally scathing retort when Lupin again intervened. “Sirius, that’s enough! We don’t need to rehash this old tripe here. Severus was just leaving, weren’t you?” The question was issued in the form of a command which Snape hated to obey on principle alone, though he did greatly wish to escape from the suffocating den of suspicion.

“Ever the peacemaker, aren’t you, Lupin?” Snape uttered silkily with a narrowed gaze. “How honorable. Perhaps you could even learn something from your flea-bitten friend here, Black. That is, something besides urinating on trees and licking your own balls.” He delivered his best chilling smile to both, though Black again made a move toward him against Lupin’s protective arm.

“Maybe if you could lick your own balls you wouldn’t have to coerce pretty, young students to do it for you!” Black said with incredulous triumph.

Snape cast an eviscerating look at the wolfman standing between him and Black. “Do you need to be muzzled to keep from spreading lies, Lupin?” he snarled viciously.

Lupin returned a dim smile. “Let’s call it payback for you not being able to keep your mouth shut to the Minister of Magic about my furry little secret.”

Before Snape could retaliate, a firm hand had him around the waist and was pulling him towards the door.

“A’right boys, grand show, grand show indeed,” Mad Eye Moody piped in gruffly as he strong-armed the group apart. “Now save the rest for the real battle ahead.”

Snape was escorted to the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place by the ex-Auror with people looking on as though he were a drunk being tossed from a pub. In the hallway, Snape shook Moody lose.

“I can walk without assistance, thank you.” He did little to keep the vitriol from his voice.

“You just make sure you keep that greasy head ‘o yours cool when you’re in here,” Moody said firmly, his artificial eye spinning about watchfully. “We don’t have time to be puttin’ out little fires under our feet when the whole blame world is set to explode. If you can’t play nice with Lupin and Black just stay the bloody hell away from ‘em.”

“I will if they will,” Snape said gritting his teeth and casting an evil look back at the kitchen.

“They will and so will you, my dark friend,” Moody stated with a pinky finger crooked in Snape’s direction, “or I’ll settle the score betwixt the lot of you once and for all.”

Snape turned on his heels and left the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix with a bubbling, hot rage in his chest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After Harry Potter was attacked by Dementors, the Order put itself into high alert. Unless the Dark Lord had already got to the guards of Azkaban, which could be assumed untrue since most of its cells were still filled with Death Eaters, then that would mean the Ministry itself set the ghoul upon Potter. Dumbledore had indeed been correct in his assessment that the governing body of the wizard kingdom was now plotting against the Hogwarts Headmaster and his small band of soldiers. Snape hated the sound of those odds.

Worse still was when Dumbledore called a meeting to announce that the Ministry had unabashedly placed a spy in Hogwarts. An inane decree had stipulated that the Ministry could fill any vacant faculty or staff position they wished. And since the Defense Against the Dark Arts position remained free, and the real Mad Eye Moody refused to take another go at it, the Ministry had placed their own in the spot. A boot-licking, draconian toad of a woman named Dolores Umbridge who sent a shudder through everyone she spoke to. When her appointment was announced, every Order member who also held a Hogwarts position let out an audible groan of protest.

Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet. “I can understand your displeasure. Believe me, no one is less happy about the Ministry’s attempts to run Hogwarts than I. As most of you know, this woman is dangerous. Oh, she may look like someone’s maiden aunt, but she is as cunning and cold-blooded as any Death Eater we will face. She’s simply on the other side. I will warn everyone to take great precautions in dealing with her. Be careful in the classroom, be careful in the staff room. Say nothing in front of her that you wouldn’t say to the Minster himself. With great subtly remind your students to be equally cautious in her presence. She is looking for ammunition for the Ministry and for chinks in our armor. Let’s not allow her to find any. In fact, if we pay attention, I would expect to be rewarded with some valuable insight to the Ministry’s plan of attack.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So the school year began with flurry of suspicious rumors and nervous fear. Some parents didn’t want their children to come back to Hogwarts at all. For half of those, it was because they feared the Dark Lord’s return. The other half feared the insanity and delusions that seemed to have taken hold of the teaching staff.

Equal unrest settled upon the teachers who knew what they were facing in the year ahead. Dumbledore hid his displeasure and worry masterfully from everyone as he approached the new year with his usual display of enthusiasm and whimsy. But several of them knew the truth that lay under the twinkling eyes and festive robes.

Snape considered himself lucky that his constant dour disposition allowed him to never have to pretend to be or feel something he didn’t. Though often , “dour” was just exactly what he did feel.

The night of the welcome feast, “tired” and “distracted” could be added to his list of visible emotions. He paid attention to little besides the food on his plate, which he pushed about glumly with his fork, and the table of chattering, squirming Ravenclaws.

Davindra sat amongst her usual group, talking as normally as ever, except for those times when she would feel Snape’s eyes on her and turn to look at him. He would then look away and pretend to be heavily engrossed in his steak and kidney pie. Soon he would have the sensation of being watched and look out to find her staring back at him. They would hold their exchange for a second, and something almost like a smile would dart across her face before she would look away and continue her conversation.

Snape had expected a much chillier reception from her after their last exchange during the summer. In fact, he meant to check his bed for snakes and his tea for poisons after she returned to Hogwarts. Her fury had been nearly as unsettling as the Dark Lord’s. Her calm manner and slight smiles only added to his suspicion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dumbledore had been right about Umbridge’s presence at Hogwarts. She made every room she inhabited nearly unbearable to be in. The moment she appeared in the staff lounge, people would begin making lavish excuses for things they had to do and places they had to be. If the staff were to get pinned in the same space with her long enough, Umbridge would get around to asking a lot of personal questions about their past and the subject they taught and their views on Ministry regulations and Albus Dumbledore.

Some showed more grace in their escape attempts than others. The best yet was Flitwick, saying that he suddenly realized he’d left something levitating, before his short legs carried him from the room unusually fast. Snape would simply open the door, and if he caught sight of the sweater-wearing toad, he would turn on his heels and walk out, often with her simpering voice sounding from behind the closing door, “Oh, Professor Snape, I was wondering if I might… hem HEM! ”

It was no surprise to find Davindra Collins in his sixth-year Potions class. Her O in the Potions O.W.L. ensured her continuance in the study of potion-making. There was a disconcerting, satisfied smirk on her face as Snape began the class on the rigorous education in advanced potions. He found himself not wanting to turn his back on her all during the time he prowled about the room surveying everyone’s progress.

Stopping by her cauldron to see that the concoction she had created was the exact shade of gold required, their eyes met over the steam.

“Everything look alright, Professor?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Strangely enough, yes,” he spoke quietly. “And I find it most troubling.” He gave her a sinister scowl as he moved on.

The first day of classes was barely over and Snape was sitting in his office wondering if it was too early to start drinking when a knock at his door interrupted his dark thoughts.

Getting up, he stomped to the door to wrench it open and see Davindra standing at the threshold, smiling pleasantly.

“Hello, Professor,” she nearly purred. “I was wondering if you had a moment.”

Ever tall and willowy, her ash-black hair tucked into a haphazard coil, and her metal-green eyes flashing, Snape couldn’t help but find an unearthly beauty about her that made him uncomfortable.

He glared back at her, but said nothing as he left the door open and returned to his desk.

“I’m surprised you’re speaking to me,” he said. “Why the change of heart after that histrionic exit you made from my fireplace this past summer?”

Davindra had closed the door and walked into the room. She began a slow pace of his shelves, reminding him of Madame Collins when she had something especially savory to reveal to him.

“Are you sorry I’m not still angry?” she asked.

“More confused and suspicious,” he replied, sinking back into his chair.

She spun on the balls of her feet to face him, her face still shining with untold surprises.

“Well, for your information, I am still angry. You were very mean and hurtful. But after a few days I came to realize something about us.”

Snape had begun digging in his desk for a bottle of anything to get him through her speech.

“And I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to stop you from sharing it with me?” he uttered distractedly.

A faint chuckle left her as she sat herself on the tall work stool in the corner, hiking her skirt up to reveal pale knees over which she leaned to survey him.

“Every year we do the same thing. Have you noticed?” she began. “One of us gets angry at the other, and we spend weeks or even months avoiding each other, but eventually one of us breaks down and comes crawling back to the other with some excuse of why we have to spend time together.”

Snape had found his bottle of elf-made wine and was pulling out the stopper when he replied harshly, “I’ve never crawled for anything in my life. The reason I have to keep reining you back in is because it’s what your grandmother has paid me for.”

Giving her an especially dark look, he searched about for a goblet or cup and, when finding none, drank directly from the bottle. The alcohol began to seep into his tight, coursing veins, relieving only a shred of the tension she inspired in him.

“I thought you said it wasn’t about the payment,” she said smoothly. “Loyalty, wasn’t it? But you never said to who.”

“Never is any loyalty or payment enough to deal with your insipid, insistent pestering,” he snarled at her, feeling the wine already beginning to thicken his tongue and mind.

Again she laughed, a dismissive, knowing laugh. “Don’t you see?” she insisted. “We’re inevitable. We keep trying to push each other away, but we just end up back at the same spot.”

“That sounds like more of your romantic, fantasy life getting mixed up with reality. I’ve told you there can be nothing between us.”

“But for all you protest, you know it’s the truth.”

Snape would never allow her to see that her words were not unfamiliar to him. Ever since their encounter last year, he too had wondered how much fate and destiny had to do with their constant gravitation to each other. Usually he told himself it was just his own pathetic weakness that made him unable to resist her.

He sat the bottle of wine on his desk and stood. “This is a ridiculous conversation, Miss Collins. I told you what happened was just an unfortunate misjudgment on my part. Outside of that, you only have yourself to blame for the emotional outbreaks that make you so miserable.”

“Are you a gambling man, Professor?” she asked brightly.

“What?” Snape looked at her, bemused.

She stepped down from the stool and walked to stand in front of him. She was nearly tall enough to look him in the eye.

“You and I never seem to go backwards, no matter how bad we may fight. In the end we just move ahead.”

Snape still had no idea what she was talking about and had started to turn away with a grunt of annoyance when her question stopped him.

“How long do you think it will be?”

“How long what will be, Miss Collins?” he snapped with clenched teeth.

“Before you give in to how badly you want me again?”

There was a look of satisfied wonder on her face that he wished he could wipe away with one slap. His hand twitched to do so, but instead he stared back at her with menacing promise.

“I’ve told you, you hopelessly pathetic, obtuse child, that that will never happen again. It was a mistake the first time.”

“So you’ve never given it a second thought?” she asked with wide-eyed interest. “Never fondly thought about any of the details, never fantasized about what it might be like again?”

Snape grabbed the bottle on his desk to keep from grabbing her throat. He then leaned in to her and snarled, “You weren’t that good.”

“Is that why you keep trying to drown yourself in wine?” she asked with a slight smile. “Besides, it was my first time! I told you I just needed a little tutoring.”

“And I told you I’m not interested!” he shouted at her. “Now get out.”

While he stomped back to his desk and flopped down into his chair, she sighed tiredly.

“Professor… Severus,” she said in a quiet, honest tone. “I love you. You know it. We don’t know what the future is going to bring. Can’t we just stop playing this exhausting game? Can’t you just be honest with me?”

Snape started shuffling through papers on his desk so he didn’t have to look at her. “I am ‘Professor’ or ‘sir’ to you, Miss Collins, and I believe I told you to get out.”

“You don’t want me to make this difficult… Professor.” Her voice was still calm, but it was laced with foreboding.

“Don’t attempt to frighten me with any of your threats, for let me assure you, I can be a far scarier person than you,” he sneered.

“That depends upon what one might actually find scary.”

He looked up at her, giving his most crippling look of contempt. “Out Davindra, NOW. And don’t come back.”

She remained unfazed and only smiled, but she did turn to leave. “See?” she said with a soft sigh. “Here we go again.”

The door closed softly behind her, and Snape let his head fall to the desk in an effort to quell the nausea and racing of his pulse.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t hard to bury himself in duties and tasks to keep his mind clear of Davindra and her threats. There was business with the Order and the Dark Lord, as well as Hogwarts issues of classes and activities and avoiding Umbridge.

Finally Quidditch was being played with regularity, and the Quidditch Cup was again up for grabs. Snape had a semi-friendly bet with McGonagall that involved the end of year cleaning of classrooms. He was determined to not lose. So he began attending Quidditch practices and assisting with the coaching, which McGonagall declared unfair since it was supposed to be a fully student-managed activity. Snape claimed it was simply moral support and advice and that she was within right to do the same for her house team. No doubt the Gryffindors could have used the help. They looked disorganized and pathetic, from all he had seen. If Slytherin simply played with planned strength, then the Transfiguration teacher would be the one scouring out the dungeon after term.

Snape kept a constant eye out for Davindra who, strangely enough, kept a respectful distance. In class she was polite in her participation and continued to perform faultlessly. Only occasionally, when everyone else was consumed with their work or engrossed in conversation over a meal, would she look at him with a hint of adroit seduction and top it off with a slight moistening of her lips or a leisurely toss of her hair. Snape would pretend he hadn’t noticed, though he often had to admit the high, tight collar of his coat would suddenly feel suffocating. Mostly he was concerned that Umbridge didn’t have her reptilian eyes on him when it happened. He was certain she would enjoy reporting back to the Ministry that one of Dumbledore’s militia was consorting with a student in a lascivious manner.

Several weeks into the term, Snape was at his desk late, as was his custom most nights, when a pounding began at his door. He had just been about to retire so he hoped whoever it was wouldn’t be long. An open door revealed Davindra standing there with a furious look on her face and her hand wrapped in a handkerchief.

“Miss Collins I’ve told you not to come here anymore,” he spoke calmly. “And it’s near curfew.”

“I just came from detention with that maniacal lizard, Umbridge,” she raged, shoving past him to walk into his office.

“Detention?” Snape echoed with amused interest. “And what exactly earned you this ‘traumatic’ detention?”

Davindra removed the cloth from her hand, which Snape now saw was spotted with blood, and held it out to him, palm down. Taking the hand, he saw what looked like words carved into the back. Turning himself around he read, ‘I will not argue’ in jagged gashes that seeped fresh blood.

“She did this to you?” he asked

“Basically,” Davindra said with incredulous disgust. “There’s a special quill she makes you write lines with. Whatever you write ends up carved into the back of your hand. This was from over four hundred lines.”

‘Ingenious and evil. I’m impressed,’ Snape thought to himself.

“And what did you do to incur such a wrath from Professor Umbridge?”

“You know she’s not teaching us spells or counter-curses or jinxes or anything,” Davindra began. “All we do is read the bloody stupid book and answer questions at the end of the chapter. A Hinkypunk could teach the class! I got sick of it the other day and made a comment she overheard and she asked me to repeat it, so I did.” She sighed angrily and wrapped her hand in the handkerchief once more. “She’s just so asinine! How in the world are we supposed to pass a N.E.W.T level exam when we never raise a wand in that class?”

Snape stood placidly watching her tirade with both interest and amusement, but also relief that someone else was at the receiving end of her temper for a change. Taking note that he wasn’t reacting to the end of her story, Davindra stared back incredulously.

“Can’t you do anything about this?” she asked, her voice rising.

Slowly Snape unfurled his crossed arms and looked down his sharp nose at her. “There is little I can do about another teacher’s curriculum choice,” he said in a serene voice. “What Professor Umbridge chooses to teach or not teach is none of my business. How much more detention do you have to do?” He turned and went to his cabinet of supplies.

“One more night.”

Finding a bottle of murtlap essence, he returned to her. “Soak your hand in this; it will help with the healing and scaring.”

Davindra took the bottle but still stared at him with disbelief. “Can’t you do something about her? About this?” She waved to her wrapped hand.

“Although her approach is unusual and even a bit barbaric, there is nothing I can do about another teacher’s method of discipline. You’ll just have to tolerate it for one more night and consider it a valuable, albeit painful, lesson learned. I doubt you will cross Professor Umbridge again.” He gave her a raised eyebrow to punctuate his words.

A deflated look of frustration and disappointment was deeply etched upon her face. Looking at the bottle in her hand, she proudly turned on her heels to leave, not sparing him another glance.

Snape reached out and caught her shoulder before she got far. He pulled her back against him and leaned close to speak softly into her ear.

“I caution you to be very careful from now on, Miss Collins. None of us are immune to Umbridge’s whims of crucifixion. Maybe I can’t help you, but I promise, this won’t go unnoticed.”

She turned her head slightly to look at him. Let it never be said that she wasn’t a clever girl. Snape knew from the cast to her eyes that she understood his meaning. Her angry countenance softened, and she gave him a slight nod then exited his office. This time she did allow him a final lingering gaze.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day he was in Dumbledore’s office with McGonagall pacing about as Snape recounted Davindra’s visit to him the night before and the details of Umbridge’s abuse.

McGonagall made a loud gasp of disgust. “She’s sadistic! My stomach does flip-flops every time I see a group of students disappear into her classroom. I have visions of her jaw unhinging as she devours them whole.”

“We knew she would be a thorn in our sides,” the Headmaster said calmly.

“Going through our mail is one thing, but inflicting physical harm to students for punishment?” McGonagall continued to rage as she approached the desk behind which Dumbledore sat, his fingertips touched together in front of his nose. “Harry has done at least two weeks of detention with her. God knows what she’s done to him under the guise of Ministry approved torture.”

“That is disturbing,” Dumbledore spoke. “And you have reminded him that he must tread carefully with Umbridge?”

Another sound of disgust escaped the witch. “Yes, but without going into too much detail I’m afraid he might not understand the extent of danger he places himself in.”

“He has always been thick-headed when it came to rules,” Snape couldn’t help but comment. “It isn’t surprising that he has gotten himself into hot water with her.”

Both pairs of eyes turned to him. “Of course Harry is a target for her,” Dumbledore said. “Fudge’s cronies at the Ministry couldn’t remove him from Hogwarts, so it is her job, one of many I’m afraid, to break him. I’m sure she’s easily finding his buttons and antagonizing him just to set an example.”

“Can’t you talk to him, Albus?” McGonagall said desperately. “You’re the only one he’d listen to.”

The old wizard sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Minerva.”

“I think he’s feeling abandoned,” she said sadly.

“I don’t disagree,” he replied in equal somber. “But it’s for his best interest that he and I don’t associate as much for the time being.”

Snape and McGonagall stared at the Headmaster for a moment before exchanging their own looks.

“There’s nothing we can do to protect any of our students?” she asked with faded hope.

“Minerva, there is little we can do to protect ourselves at this point,” Dumbledore replied.

“Well, I refuse to let that reptile of a woman bully me!” McGonagall sputtered, drawing herself up defiantly.

“Be careful,” Dumbledore said with a finger pointed for emphasis. “One word from her and even you would be gone.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

Snape rarely saw the Transfiguration teacher this impassioned. He had to admit he felt more than a bit impressed with her courage.

She then looked at Snape as if expecting him to echo her sentiment. Snape looked back and pursed his lips in consideration of speaking out.

“I’ll do whatever the Headmaster asks of me,” he replied.

“My orders stand,” Dumbledore said. “Watch out for yourself, watch out for the students, and don’t give Umbridge anything that she can take back to the Ministry.”

McGonagall again looked to Snape. “Will Davindra be alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” he replied. “Her pride was perhaps more wounded than her flesh. She isn’t used to such reprimands.”

“If Demelza Collins finds out about this, there will be hell to pay,” McGonagall said truthfully.

Dumbledore nodded. “Do you think she knows yet?” he directed toward Snape.

“If she did, either you or I would have had a Howler at our doorstep first thing this morning. I will say that Miss Collins does not tend to cower at her grandmother’s skirts. She prefers to fight her own battles, which in itself has proven to be a point of contention between them.”

“I didn’t know you knew her so well,” the witch at his side commented.

“Madame Collins has requested Severus take such an interest,” Dumbledore replied, saving Snape from creating his own lie. “If you can find a delicate way to suggest that she not recount this episode to her grandmother, it would be most beneficial,” he continued to Snape.

Snape returned a nod and commitment to the effort. The two teachers left the Headmaster’s office and walked down the hall together.

Suddenly McGonagall startled him with the exclamation, “We’d all better off if someone would just strangle that woman with one of her own damn sweaters!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A discrete word with Davindra was not hard to manage. She seemed to somehow stay in the peripheral of his presence without ever looking as though she were trying. A crook of his finger and mumbled whisper to meet him in his office after class was all that was needed to guarantee her compliance

Not a moment later, she appeared at his door, eager for whatever he might have to impart to her. Standing in front of his desk, she twirled her wand between her fingers as small blue sparks emitted from its tip.

Finally, Snape took the wand from her hand. “Stop before you inadvertently conjure a demon onto my desk,” he snapped. “Now, Miss Collins, about what we spoke of the other night. I’m afraid I must ask a very important favor of you.”

She cocked her head and smiled mischievously. “A favor, Professor?”

“It is of dire importance that you not tell your grandmother of last night’s incident. Tell no one, in fact.”

“And why not?”

“Because we both know that Madame Collins would be quite upset by it and probably attempt to take matters into her own hands.”

“And would that be bad? Especially since you’ve already said you would do nothing,” Davindra stated.

Snape bit his lip to keep from screaming in his own frustration. “I said I could not do anything. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t wish to.”

“That’s a fine hair you’re splitting.” The roguish smile remained. “Suppose you tell me why my keeping quiet is so important.”

“I’m afraid I am unable to divulge exactly why, Miss Collins. I simply need you to trust me when I say it is of a life or death matter.”

Davindra looked at him with fierce contemplation, her frost-shaded eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “And what do you have to barter for this pledge of my silence?”

Dread coursed coldly though Snape’s body. He should have expected no less from the conniving little witch.

“I am not in a position to offer anything of any real interest to you,” he said through a jaw tightened with displeasure.

“Then how can I be expected to not mention this horrible incident to my most beloved relative?” Davindra said with a dramatic lilt in her voice and a flutter of her eyelashes.

“You tell your grandmother as little as possible about your life as it is,” Snape said darkly, glaring into her amused face. “I seriously doubt you would be tempted to now if it weren’t just to find pleasure in spiting me.”

“Then why ask?”

“It is imperative that I get your word on this, Miss Collins.”

“What is my word worth?”

They stood at an impasse, which Snape knew he could not cross alone. There was no way of forcing his will outside of Obliviating the entire episode from her head, which could prove more damaging to the cause if Umbridge found out. Dumbledore should not have asked him this. If only the old wizard would have taken on the task himself, there would have been no question of her obedience.

Snape sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to stare at her with bleak disfavor. “What do you want? And keep in mind what I have already said I cannot and will not give.”

Her face showed not one nerve of tension or worry. A look of scheming pleasure soon spread over her. She stepped closer to speak softly.

“Ten minutes.” Her eyes burned into him like acid. “Ten minutes just to touch you. Nothing lewd,” she assured, “nowhere intimate. Just ten minutes to let my fingers comprehend what my eyes have memorized for all these years.”

If she had asked for the moon on a gossamer thread, he could have consented more easily. She stood barely a breath’s width from him, her eyes not allowing him to pull away, silently demanding he acquiesce to her proposition.

The words, ‘no, absolutely not,’ were in his head and on his tongue. But when he spoke, he heard, “FIVE minutes, one hand only, from an arm’s length away, nothing more than your finger tips, and nowhere even remotely intimate.”

Dumbledore had no idea what Snape risked with his loyalty. All around him were deadly traps set to ensnare him.

A smile of triumphant delight began at the corners of Davindra’s lips and moved over her whole face. Snape conjured an hourglass that sat on his desk, five minutes worth of sand hanging in the top chamber, ready to fall at his command. He then held out his arms in a gesture of agreement that payment should begin.

“Alright?” he snapped impatiently.

Quickly she looked about the room, as if to try to decide how to set the stage as best to enjoy her award.

“Uhmm, here.” She pulled Snape so he stood directly in front of his desk. Her hands on his shoulders pushed him to sit on the edge, bringing him just under her own eye-level.

He sighed with exasperation. “Will you get on with this embarrassing demonstration. I do have other things to do.”

Davindra came to stand between his open legs. It was entirely too close to allow Snape to even breathe comfortably. With firm hands he moved her to just outside of his knees. A final flick of his wand sent the hourglass in motion.

For several seconds she didn’t move, but simply stared into his face. Just as he was about to comment that her time was running out, the slow rise of her hand caught his eye. With glacial speed, her fingers came to rest lightly against his temple. There was a soothing coldness to her touch that seemed to both relax and stimulate him. With equal pace, her hand trailed back to rake into his hair. A shivery sensation followed along behind it.

Her eyes were no longer on his but lingering after the path of her touch. Perhaps it would be more bearable if he closed his own eyes, Snape thought. But in doing so, he found that the sensation of her fingers only intensified to consume all of his senses. The sound of her touch and the smell of her body mingled with the old memories of her taste and sight of her flesh. He allowed himself to fall into the fantasy. It was only five minutes, after all.

Her caress continued from his hair down to his neck, then to the line of his jaw. The raspy sound of her fingers over the late day growth of his beard was the loudest thing in the room. Up his sallow cheek to trace the arch of his eyebrow, across the closed lid of his eye, down his crooked nose, and softly brushing against his lips, she moved. Snape found himself exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding.

The gentle movement continued on down his chin and neck to his heavy, black coat. Her fingers stopped at the buttons, and she touched them as sensuously as she had his face. He felt the top button near his throat release, and he opened his eyes to remind her of the rules of this enterprise.

Her face held no lascivious intentions or traces of wicked deception. She was awash with enraptured wonder and longing, as though she were setting her eyes upon the sun for the first time. Never had he known anyone to look upon him in such a way. Never had he known a touch so gentle or desperate.

At the high collar of his shirt her fingers tugged to get access to the skin beneath. He stilled his own restless hands by gripping the edge of the desk to keep from reaching up and exposing himself to her to quell the longing he now felt for her touch.

A light flutter of her hand against the pale flesh of his neck was as intense as any punch to the gut he could ever experience. And his breath disappeared from his body just as forcefully. With maddening slowness, her fingers explored his Adam’s apple and the hollow at the base of his throat. The following button was a hindrance of which she made quick work of and then continued on the journey of his skin. His collarbone was the next fortunate piece of flesh to savor her exploration. The few sparse hairs upon his chest prickled when she grazed against them.

The next button lay ahead but with a swift, nimble flourish of fingers, it too gave way. Her hand pushed inside his shirt to rest, palm down, against his thundering heart. Davindra herself had moved closer, her breath shallow gasps rushing past her parted lips. Snape watched her from a state of unexplained paralysis, feeling drunk in his desire and helpless in the tide of yearning her artful play had summoned.

A ‘pop’ from behind them startled them both from their mesmerizing dream. Snape realized that the hourglass had signaled the end of their session.

“Time’s up,” he uttered in a thick voice.

“If you say so,” she murmured, her eyes forced back to focus on the reality around them.

Davindra backed away from him with a look of grave mourning, as though her last meal had been pulled from her grasp.

Snape also had to demand his mind shake the spell he had been under and tend to the business at hand before he could allow himself to collapse into a quivering pile of caged, salacious, carnal urges. He buttoned the coat that lay open with Davindra’s eyes still hungrily raking over his skin.

“Do I now have your word that you will speak to no one of Professor Umbridge’s activities, no matter how abominable they may appear?”

She nodded mutely.

“If anything happens again, come to me, Davindra.” He stood and straightened himself, keeping his expression deceptively blank. “Tell only me everything you see or hear.”

Again she nodded but seemed still unable to speak.

“You may go.”

She turned. Snape remembered her wand and called to her, returning it to her outstretched hand.

They parted after sharing an intense, burning look that summarized all that had passed between them.

When she was gone Snape sank back down on the desk to keep from falling to his knees. His fingers pulled at the buttons at his throat to again expose his neck and upper chest so that he could breathe and so that he could also run his fingers against the last part of him to savor her touch.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thankfully, there was no time for wallowing in the misery of ardent, ravenous cravings that seemed to tear at his soul when he thought of those wanton and damnable five minutes. He had to do something to reinstate the Slytherin Quidditch team. Again Dumbledore swore off his involvement unless absolutely necessary and insisted Snape first take a stab at persuading the new “High Inquisitor.” If he genuinely had no success, then the matter could be passed on to the Headmaster.

Snape stood in Dolores Umbridge’s office, surveying the nauseating mixture of fussy doilies and kittens with medieval stone walls and rows of ancient text books. For a moment he was actually missing the sight of Remus Lupin in that office.

“Now, Professor Snape,” the lumpy woman across the desk said in a frighteningly pleasant way, “what is it that you wanted to see me about?”

“I have come to ask that the Slytherin Quidditch team be reinstated and allowed to continue in its practice sessions and competitive games.” He spoke clearly, without embellishment or groveling.

“Well, this will have to be considered very carefully.” Her simpering smile never reached her flat, gelatinous eyes. “Student groups can be very disruptive, and we don’t want too much time devoted to un-academic fraternization.”

Snape managed to return a smile, though one more laced with chilling revulsion than mutual agreement. “The Slytherin Quidditch team has been a cornerstone of student camaraderie for more years than anyone can remember,” he began smoothly. “It creates a healthy sense of sportsmanship and team cooperation that proves invaluable to these students when they leave Hogwarts and pursue careers in the outside world.”

The woman still sat with her frozen smile, not saying anything for a moment though she seemed to be regarding Snape with serious thought.

“You’re a bachelor, are you not, Professor Snape?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

‘Oh, holy mother of Merlin, no!’ Snape thought, though he also kept his expression unchanged and genial.

“Why, yes, Madam, I am.”

“I have a lovely niece. She works as an apothecary at Mercurial Mercantile, perhaps you’ve seen her?” Umbridge’s smile remained, though her eyes did seem to trail up and down him in appraisal.

The few that he remembered dealing with at the Diagon Alley shop were usually half-witted and more than likely to cheat you on any deal. But if memory served, there were no toad-like women lurking behind the counters.

“Perhaps, but it has been some time since I’ve been there.”

“I think you two would get along famously,” she announced. “Shall I have her owl you?”

Snape swallowed back his repugnance and pride. “That would be lovely,” he uttered through clenched teeth. “Now, about the Slytherin Quidditch team?”

“Oh, yes, well, I will need to think on it some more, but I believe we can work something out.” The woman smiled again. “We wouldn’t want our students deprived of valuable lessons in fair play and teamwork. I’ll have an answer for you by the end of the day.”

Snape bowed slightly and left the hellish office with a swish of his robes. He was beginning to feel like piece of meat dangled before every person who wanted something from him. If each kept taking a bite out of him, soon there would be nothing left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At least there was the match of Slytherin versus Gryffindor to look forward to after Dumbledore finally pressed Umbridge hard enough to reinstate all four teams.

McGonagall didn’t waste time reminding Snape about their bet. But the Slytherin team had had more practices and had better players than the Gryffindor team, so he felt unworried about the outcome.

The day of the match, Snape met with the team beforehand to again reiterate the importance of this match and that they had every possibility to win it if they simply focused on Gryffindor’s weakness. Luckily for them the entire team seemed to be composed of weaknesses.

On the walk down to the Quidditch field, a voice sounded behind him.

“Looks like a good day for a Quidditch match, doesn’t it, Professor?”

Snape paused and Davindra stepped around him to take up step beside him. Their relationship since the bribery incident had been quietly amicable. Blissful as it was to not have her constantly at his door or always at his heels, he now had to contend with the knowledge that every look and verbal exchange they did share was tinged with the memory of those five minutes of pleasure they had experienced. Snape knew that he fought the persistent images almost daily, whether alone or with anyone else. He could easily imagine her doing the same, but instead, lingering over each sensuous second in her head and begging the images to stay as unchanging as a photograph.

Today Davindra smiled as mischievously as always. Bundled in a warm jacket, her hands shoved into the pockets for warmth, she looked at ease striding next to his tall, dark form. Snape found himself glancing about to see if anyone had taken notice of the two of them together. But most were hurrying on to the game site, not caring about with whom he appeared to associate.

“Feeling pretty cocky about this victory, are you?” she said with mock seriousness. “Not even the lion’s head is going to intimidate you?”

She pointed to a Ravenclaw student who was wearing an enormous lion’s head on top of her own that roared periodically.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Hardly. And sadly, I think that is about the most ferocious thing Gryffindor has to its honor right now.”

They took several more steps in silence.

“So tell me, Miss Collins,” Snape said smoothly, “who will you be cheering for today?”

“Oh, I will have to remain an unbiased bystander, for my loyalty must remain with Ravenclaw,” she pronounced dramatically, though her eyes sparkled with mirth.

He stopped to look at her, a smirk creeping over his own lips. “Well, today I think you should allow your neutrality to slip.” He took the green and black rosette pinned to his cloak and threaded it through the open buttonhole on Davindra’s jacket.

Looking into her eyes and speaking softly, he said, “I always suspected that under that breast beat the heart of a Slytherin.” His smirk spread to a thin smile.

Davindra adjusted the rosette to sit more firmly in place and looked back into his dark, shining eyes. “And you would know.”

He turned and moved on at a quickened pace to sit with the faculty while Davindra found her group of friends.

The game was enjoyable, at first. It could have even been a landmark game, in fact, with Slytherin up by nearly fifty points. But Malfoy was bested by the only thing keeping the Gryffindor Quidditch team from being a complete and total failure. The Boy Who Unfortunately Lived. By bare millimeters, the Snitch escaped the Slytherin Seeker’s grasp and was captured by Potter.

Snape could have chewed a broom handle in two by the time the teams had made it back down to the field. And to top it off, he had to help break up a brawl that had broken out amongst the two teams. Luckily Umbridge stepped in and offered her less than appreciated help, and by the end of the day half of the Gryffindor team, including Potter, had been banned from Quidditch play indefinitely as punishment for their abhorrent violent tendencies. She had announced it to Snape with her usual simpering smile and included a knowing wink and a slight tap to his arm that told him she was still holding hope that he might one day become a nephew-in-law.

Discomfort aside, the news of Potter’s banishment was a small consolation for the gigantic embarrassment of losing to Gryffindor and Professor McGonagall. Though Montague, the captain, and the rest of the team got plenty an earful of Snape’s wrath, he saved the worst for Draco Malfoy.

“Do you want to tell me why you let such an easy victory just slip through your fingers, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape sneered at the boy from across the desk of his office, where he had asked for a private word.

Draco was still in his Quidditch robes, though he wore a far greater amount of shame and anger.

“I did the best I could!” he shouted in return. “I had it! It was right there at my fingertips. And suddenly Potter has it. I don’t know how he did it. He probably cheated.”

“No, he just out performed you, like he has done every other time,” Snape said in cold reply.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not the Boy-Bloody-Fucking-Wonder, alright?” Draco shouted.

“Language, Mr. Malfoy,” he sneered. “You are better in many ways. You have good breeding and blood, where he has a pathological idol complex.”

“Fat lot of good it does me on that broomstick.”

Draco paced the floor in front of Snape’s desk in impudent rage while Snape sat drumming his fingers on the chair arm as he thought of a punishment harsh and yet fair enough.

“Consider yourself on probation, Malfoy,” he finally announced. “You will practice day and night if need be to fine tune your Seeker skills. If you have not vastly improved by the next match, you will be replaced.”

The boy eyed him in disbelief. “You can’t do that! You’re not the team captain.”

“No, but Montague will do what I tell him to.”

Draco narrowed his eyes to give Snape a vicious glare. “If my father finds out, he will be furious. He won’t let you get away with this.”

Snape smiled tightly. “Trust me when I say your father is far too busy dealing with other issues to take the time to fight your battles for you. Besides, if you insist upon whining to him about unfair treatment, then I may have to divulge a little incident I stumbled upon in an empty classroom last May.”

The two sized each other up for a few silent moments.

“The world’s becoming a very harsh place, Draco,” Snape finally spoke. “It’s best you get used to the idea few battles are fairly fought.”

Draco continued to give him a snarling glare. “And I guess there’s no counting on loyalty either?”

“If loyalty harbors weakness, then it fails to serve the greater good,” he replied calmly. “I do you no favors by allowing you to squander Slytherin’s chances for the Quidditch Cup. In the end, you will be a stronger player and more faithful team member.”

Perhaps reason had gotten to the boy because his scowl eased and his stance relaxed.

“Go commiserate with your team mates,” Snape finally said with a wave of his hand. “And I’m sure Miss Parkinson is waiting to soothe all your wounds.”

Draco started to leave and then stopped, turned back, then began to leave again. But at the door he paused.

“Is there something else, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked irritably

“About what happened in May,” he began with some trepidation. “Did she get into a lot of trouble? We don’t talk anymore since… I guess I don’t blame her. But I just wondered if she was alright from it.”

Snape twitched his eyebrow at the subject but then gave Draco a firm look. “Miss Collins was disciplined appropriately.”

“I didn’t see her go directly back to the Ravenclaw Tower, I mean I sort of kept watch,” the boy pushed on.

“I don’t know what you are getting at, but I assure you, she was dealt with. Now I believe we are through, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape let his words end bluntly and with a piercing stare that finally made Draco leave his office.

For a moment Snape sat at his desk, reveling in the silence and thinking of the punishment he had also suffered from the consequences of that fateful night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ah, to be the High Inquisitor and announce a grand, sweeping rule every time something happened that you didn’t like, Snape imagined. But with a new “Educational Decree” appearing every few days, it was hard to keep track of them all. Snape envisioned Umbridge lying in bed at night, with a bright pink afghan pulled up to her nonexistent chin, never sleeping, but endlessly creating new ways to restrict and suppress everyone at Hogwarts. It might not be so bad if these things only affected the students. However, it was evident that every decree laid out was put in place to persecute both faculty and students alike.

By the end of the year, everyone was becoming like caged animals, with too little freedom and too many demands. Many were agitated and resentful and small squabbles broke out amongst students and even some of the staff.

Snape knew his Christmas break would not be one of relaxation. The Dark Lord didn’t celebrate Christmas, so then, neither would the Order. Since he had never cared for holiday celebrations, he supposed he would miss nothing except the grateful quiet of Hogwarts when few inhabited it.

As he busied himself about his office, checking to see what supplies would need to be restocked for the new year ahead, Davindra came to his door. She hadn’t come to his office since the intimate buy-off, though they had exchanged some very heavy looks and uttered several comments laced with double meaning to each other.

“What do you want, Miss Collins?” he asked in his usual brisk tone.

“Only a word or two,” she replied closing the door behind her and strolling comfortably about the room as he continued his tasks.

“Professor Umbridge hasn’t been doing anything more to traumatize that alabaster flesh, then?” he asked with a libidinous hint.

Davindra took a stool nearest the storage cupboard from which he worked and gave him an equally flirtatious smirk.

“I’ve behaved myself and so has she. But I still loathe the fat, old cow. I’d like to rip that stupid bow from her head and shove--”

“Now, now, Miss Collins, I cannot tolerate such disrespect spoken about a fellow teacher in my presence.” But he gave her a slight smile with his words.

Davindra smiled back. “Well, actually what I’ve come for is to ask if you’ve heard from my grandmother lately.”

“Mercifully, no,” Snape replied finishing his list and closing the cupboard. “Not since she came to my home to interrogate me about your foul mood and disappearing act over the summer.”

Her thin, dark brows furrowed together. “So she didn’t make arrangements for my tutoring, even?”

“Since you have not been ceaselessly haunting the corner of my office, we can assume not.”

“But isn’t that odd?” she asked.

It actually was, and Snape had thought it over many times. For six years Demelza Collins had somehow managed to get him to agree to keep watch over her granddaughter, but this year she had remained unnervingly silent.

“Perhaps not so odd,” he replied. “You did quite well on your O.W.L.s. Eight, I hear? It could have been nine. So it could be that she sees no further need.”

“But I have N.E.W.T.s next year,” Davindra offered. “And every year I’ve been at Hogwarts she’s written to me nearly every week. But I can count on one hand the number of letters I’ve gotten from her so far this year. When I’ve asked what she’s been doing, she ignores the question. Mother and Granny Lilly don’t have anything to say about it either.”

“Well, then, it’s a mystery,” Snape said with a tired boredom.

“No, it’s more than that. Even this past summer she was acting strange,” she continued to murmur, still pondering the situation.

After a few quiet moments where Snape didn’t speak and continued looking through lists of things that either needed doing or needed restocking, Davindra finally moved from her chair to stand close to him.

“So you’re staying here for the holidays?”

“Yes,” he replied absently.

“Would you like for me to stay?”

He looked up from the papers in his hands. “Why would I want that?”

She shrugged, but continued to give him a coquettish smile.

“I’m sure your family would appreciate your company much more than I. Besides I keep myself quite busy during the bit of peace and quiet I get with all of you pesky ankle-biters gone,” he replied tersely, going back to his lists.

“Don’t you ever get lonely?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you like, Miss Collins,” he said with a weary sigh of annoyance.

He felt her move closer against him. Her breath rustled against the hair that hung against his face. Standing immobile, trying to ignore her was becoming more difficult. When she reached her fingers up to stroke the strands of lank hair from his face, Snape grabbed her wrist.

“When are you going to stop this absurd, futile game?” he asked sharply, looking into her face.

“When are you?” she replied with an arch of her eyebrow.

Snape dropped her wrist and strode to the other side of the desk.

“I grow tired of telling you over and over that there can be nothing between us,” he growled.

“Oh, and I’m tired of hearing it!” she said with a small laugh. “Especially since you can’t convince me it’s true.”

She walked to join him on the same side of the desk. “When I touched you,” she began softly, staring deeply into his eyes, “did you not feel that suffocating ache for it to never end?”

“Don’t push me,” he said darkly. “I don’t think you would want me to lose my composure again.”

“Actually, I think it’s what we both want.” There was a lusty invitation to her words that Snape had a growing desire to act upon.

But he stared back, not letting the intensity of her gaze or her words dismantle him.

“Davindra, I’ve won’t lie about the fact that I find you attractive and that you do affect me. I’m a normal man, with normal desires. But let’s not pretend that what you are really looking for is something that I can give you. For I don’t even have the ability to produce that kind of sentiment. You are confusing time spent in my bed with love and affection. Yes, I felt that ache. I feel it every time you come near me. But that doesn’t mean that more will ever arise from it. I’m afraid you will just wind up bitterly disappointed.”

Only slightly did her look harden into one of self preservation. “I suppose the fact that I love you doesn’t even count for anything?”

Snape turned away from those demanding, inscrutable eyes. “It doesn’t matter that you love me,” he replied blandly.

“You know I can only hear you completely disregard my emotions so many times.” A sad amusement settled over her.

Snape sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of some way out of claustrophobic box she had cornered him into.

“I am not trying to hurt you, Davindra,” he said from behind closed eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to protect you.” He looked at her once again. “You would experience a far worse pain if I allowed you to become involved with me than you ever will suffering your love from afar.”

“You have no idea what I suffer,” she said softly with a glassy redness beginning to tinge her eyes.

“I know more than you think.”

Slowly Davindra reached her arms around his waist and moved closer. Though he didn’t allow any other part of his body to touch her, Snape did let his forehead come down to rest against hers. For a few silent moments they remained this way, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of each other’s breaths. Every second Snape reminded himself that he mustn’t touch her, or there might not be any going back.

Eventually he pulled away, extracting her arms from his body.

“Go home to the people who love you, Davindra,” he said quietly. “I will see you when you return.”

Pulling in a strong breath to clear her expanding emotions, she nodded, and then gave him a weak smile. She left the office taking with her the only bit of heat or light that ever gave him any true warmth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Special Thanks to:
My betas, once again. Logical Quirk and Southern Witch, who keep me honest and make me look good.
Doc, for his insight on words and phrases (and good nature over giving up so much computer time).
Serena, who inspired my favorite scene from this chapter with her incredibly lush and dense ficlette, “Buttons.” http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3125400/1/
And Sarah McLachlan, who always spoke for me when I didn’t have words, but who now inspires many of my phrases and chapter titles!

Madame Potion: Chapter Eleven

2007-02-20T23:49:49Z

Year Five: No Fury Nor Rage Denied

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
The Mourning Bride (1697) by William Congreve.

Snape found himself in a dark, eerie graveyard under a starless sky. Himself shrouded in black, he blended into the night and shadows perfectly. But he knew that his presence had been immediately sensed, so there was no hiding or turning back.

He walked toward the silent beckoning and found the Dark Master standing before a tomb inscribed with the name ‘Riddle.’ There was no doubting the fact that he was now flesh and bone. The pale, almost corpse-like body moved with a fluid, animalistic grace as it turned to him.

“Severus,” the Dark Lord purred in a dangerously deceptive way. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

Snape immediately fell to his knees at the feet of his former master. “I came as quickly as I could possibly manage, my lord. My apologies for not being here as soon as called. It is my greatest pleasure to once again bow at my Master’s feet.”

It took effort to try and reenact the humbled groveling of a true Death Eater after thirteen years. But Snape knew his life depended on being believed and trusted. Showing up over two hours after the call of the Mark was not the best way to start off. He had prepared himself for the worst in any case.

“Yes, I’m sure catching Dumbledore’s attention to attain permission to resume your old post was difficult amidst all the excitement set lose by Harry Potter.” There was a cutting edge to the wizard’s mocking.

Snape kept his head low and his mind sedate and clear. Carefully controlled images were allowed to ebb and flow in a natural form through his brain in case the Dark Lord chose to look.

“This has been a bittersweet reunion, Severus. For here I stand, flesh and blood at last. But at what cost? Potter was not supposed to leave this graveyard alive. I cannot express my displeasure on that.” The Dark Lord’s voice rose and fell in theatrical waves. “I was planning on making a much more dramatic, surprise entrance on the world. I suppose I will just have to adjust my plans.” There was a dark chuckle. “Oh, if only I were a fly on the wall of Hogwarts tonight. Tell me, Severus, what chaos and terror has erupted in my alma mater on the news of Lord Voldemort’s return?”

“There was great alarm, Master, within the faculty and staff. However, the Minister of Magic was reluctant to believe the testimony of the boy. Potter has been seen as a bit of an alarmist in regards to your return. And I’m afraid that Barty Crouch Jr. did not survive long after questioning by Dumbledore. Fudge brought in a Dementor.”

“A truly valiant sacrifice, wouldn’t you say, Wormtail?” the Dark Lord called out over his shoulder.

A lumpy, twitchy form shuffled from the shadows. “Oh, yes, my lord. Very valiant.”

Snape would have recognized the pathetic blathering anywhere even after thirteen years. Peter Pettigrew was indeed as alive and well as the Dark Lord himself.

“You see, Severus,” the Dark Lord continued in an calm, easy manner, “that is what I like from my faithful followers. Sacrifice of the highest cost if need be. And indeed giving up one’s life, or one’s limb, or even one’s freedom in the service of their master is all very honorable.”

A cold feeling began to spread through Snape as he knelt on the damp ground. But it had nothing to do with the chill in air or the grass. It came from inside him in the knowledge that the Dark Lord was just winding up for a truly vicious dissemination of vengeance.

“What do you say of your own honor, Severus?” The question was delivered as smoothly as a knife’s edge. “How would you classify the last thirteen years of your life? Was it spent diligently searching for your lost master? Or confined in contemplative solitude, enduring endless agony while you conceived new, more horrible plans of revenge against your enemies and those of your master?”

Snape dared only to raise his eyes enough to see the pale, gnarled feet of the Dark Lord pace before him.

“Or did you spend the last thirteen years cozily tucked away under the protective wing of Albus Dumbledore, drawing a steady income and believing you were forever free of the shackles of obligation to Lord Voldemort?”

“My lord,” Snape began with earnest, “I remained in the last post that you sent me to, following the very last order you gave me, patiently awaiting the next.”

“Silence! Crucio!”

Snape felt his body curl up like a dead bug as the current of agony ripped through him. After a few seconds of gut-wrenching pain, the curse was lifted, and the Dark Lord again took to pacing in front of Snape’s fetal, twitching form.

“How was it that you were in the most advantageous position of anyone to assist in my return, and yet you did nothing?” The Dark Lord’s voice was beginning to hiss with anger.

Snape was still trying to catch his breath to answer when he was again hit with the Cruciatus Curse. After the violent charge was over, he lay on the ground twitching, his head nearly splitting with residual anguish.

“Get up and speak for yourself, man!” the Dark Lord shouted over Snape’s prostrate form.

With energy he summoned from some unknown place, he managed to drag himself into a kneeling position again. Bloody saliva strung from his mouth and clung to the hair that hung in his face.

“I admit to my shortcomings, my lord,” Snape uttered weakly. “I admit to listening to the theories that you were gone. I had no other clear information to follow. Everyone scattered. I was left to my own devices, and I admit to thinking first of self-survival.” He stopped to swallow in an attempt to keep the vomit from rising further up his throat. “But my dedication to you and your ideals and plans never wavered. And I have much to show for my thirteen years of waiting, my lord. If you only allow me to prove myself once again.”

Snape dared to look up and saw a pair of piercing red eyes gazing down at him with suspicious interest. The Torture Curse was not administered again. Instead the Dark Lord let out a smooth chuckle.

“This should be entertaining. Draw up a chair, Wormtail, for Severus is going to enthrall us with his adventures at Hogwarts.” The cruel voice hardened. “Let us hope for his sake that it is more than just an amusing tale.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At some point during the pale dawn of the next morning, Snape Apparated near Hogwarts. The world continued to spin long after his feet had found familiar ground. He stumbled and wove his way into the school, hoping to mercilessly go unnoticed. But before he had made his way to the safety of his dungeon, Dumbledore was at his side, guiding him with reassuring, firm arms.

The Headmaster didn’t speak until they were safely inside Snape’s chambers and Snape was able to collapse into a chair. From inside his robe, Dumbledore produced a vial, which he held before Snape. Obediently and without words, Snape took the potion and drank it, aware that it could be either a healing potion or a truth serum. A cool, soothing feeling immediately began to blanket him, taking the severe edge off the pain and dizziness.

“Tell me everything,” Dumbledore said as he conjured a chair, which he placed directly in front of Snape.

“He wasn’t happy,” Snape managed with a dark look from between curtains of dirty, greasy hair.

“Obviously,” Dumbledore said. “But I expected no less, as I’m sure did you. However, he did let you come back alive.”

“I think his elation over being in a living, breathing body again overshadowed some of his fury. But he didn’t plan on Harry Potter surviving to tell of his return.” Snape spoke in careful breaths, trying to keep as still as possible and not disturb his tortured body.

“He intended to kill him last night.”

“Of course. Still does, I expect. But the last thing he wanted was for you to know anything of his agenda. He’s having to alter his plans, which he never likes doing.”

“And what did he tell you?” Dumbledore edged closer in eager anticipation.

Somehow, Snape managed a pained chuckle. “You think he would tell me anything? He doesn’t trust me. Especially after I spent the last thirteen years cozily tucked away under your wing, as he accused. But I was able to give him enough information about various things I have seen over the last few years to make him think that I could be of use.” He gave Dumbledore a meaningful look with eyes empty of everything but soul-crushing exhaustion. “My leash is very short, Headmaster. I’m sure he thought more than once of disposing of me on the spot. It will take time before I’m allowed back to what I once was.”

The old wizard stared hard at Snape with crisp blue eyes for a moment before he spoke. “If you say you can’t do it, Severus, I won’t make you.”

“What, and leave myself forever in debt to you, sir?” His attempt at mockery was as weak as his body. “No, I would rather die honorably in my efforts.”

“If you’re afraid… ”

“Who isn’t afraid?” Snape spat. “What Death Eater has not looked at his family in the last 12 hours and wondered how long they are for the world? It’s no wonder Lucius Malfoy was desperate enough to search out an old love potion maker and beg for something, anything to protect his wife and child. The only ones who aren’t afraid right now are either fools or already dead.”

“What of the Potter boy?” Snape asked quickly, wanting to drop all discussion of his own cowardice. “Will you tell him of his duty now?”

The energy seemed to spill from Dumbledore’s frame. “In time, I’ll have to. But he’s been through so much. I can’t in good conscience do it now.”

“If you wait too long…”

“I know.” The old man stood up and paced for a short while with hands behind his back, his eyes to the floor. “There are two things that must be done immediately if we are to gain any ground against Lord Voldemort. One is to have constant protection over Harry. He’s our only hope, and Voldemort knows it. He will only double his efforts to get rid of the boy now. The second thing is to try to strengthen the Order of the Phoenix’s numbers. We’re alone on this, Severus. The Ministry will be of no help. In fact, I anticipate a fair amount of hindrance on their part. We will need to be exceptionally discrete.”

“And so you enlist the help of a wanted criminal, a werewolf, and a few half-blood renegades?” Snape asked with another pained, sardonic smile.

“Who better at disguising their actions and whereabouts than those forced to do so every day of their lives?” Dumbledore returned the smile. “But there will be others. Even several from inside the Ministry itself. And of course, most importantly, we have you.”

“For now,” Snape murmured.

The Headmaster gave him a firm but slightly sad look over his half-moon spectacles.

“Would you like me to send Poppy down to tend to you?” he asked as he turned to go.

“No, it isn’t necessary. Besides, I don’t think either of us wishes to explain that much just yet.”

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and headed for the door. “Rest, Severus. We need you well.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snape considered just falling into bed fully clothed and filthy; his exhaustion was so overpowering. But the damp stench of old death and spent magic still clung to him, and he doubted he could rest easily in such a miserable shroud.

He stood under the scalding jet of his shower for a long time, just letting the water beat the grime and fatigue from his body. As he remained motionless, his mind rambled about, settling upon disjointed fragments of the last twelve hours. It seemed like it was a hundred years ago that he had dragged Davindra down to his chambers and devoured her young body. How he wished that all he need worry about was an illicit affair. Now, she seemed the very least of his concerns.

Snape realized that he was standing at the precipice of a raging field of fire. It wouldn’t be long before he would have to plunge in head first. He had the sinking feeling that no matter if he dove in willingly or had to be bodily thrown, no one would ever think his sacrifice noble. There were two losing battles taking place: one to defeat the world’s darkest and most powerful wizard and another to try to pull the name of Severus Snape up from the repellant cesspool of humiliation and cowardice it had stewed in for nearly fourteen years. Dumbledore forged ahead with faith that both causes could be victorious. In reality Snape doubted either could ever be accomplished.

Finally, when he felt as water-logged and shriveled as a prune, Snape emerged from the shower, dried himself, downed a heavy amount of a sedating potion, and fell into his bed to sleep without dreams or movement for nearly a day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The end of the school year came with hardly any notice. Everyone seemed so consumed with their tasks, grief, and worries that the dismissal of Hogwarts for the summer barely registered. Snape managed to make it to the end of year feast, but was so overcome with exhaustion from all the work of getting the Order reinstated and answering to the Dark Lord’s call that he hardly took note of the events around him.

He did allow himself the luxury of watching Davindra at the Ravenclaw table. She seemed as pensive and sad as everyone in the hall. There was no laughing and expressive gesturing as he had usually seen from her when surrounded by her fellow housemates. When she looked to him, her eyes seemed to ask so many unanswerable questions. They had hardly spoken since the night in his chambers. She must surely be left feeling very confused and afraid. But Snape had little room for sympathy when he himself wrestled with those same emotions. Their concentration on each other was broken by the beginning of Dumbledore’s farewell speech.

After school was dismissed, Snape didn’t get to return to Spinner’s End, as he had hoped. Instead he ran between the temporary housings for the Order and the Dark Lord. The Order’s first few participants met in Hogsmeade, then later at a spot near the Leaky Cauldron. Eventually Sirius Black had the grand idea to use his family home, which was in his possession but which he had not returned to since a very young man. Snape found it hard to believe that there was an inhabitable house more dismal and decayed than his own. It was hard to see how the Black family home could have ever been impressive. And it was no wonder that the youngest son left home at sixteen never to return until desperation forced him to.

The Dark Lord continued to change venues also in hopes it would keep talk of his return to rumors. The graveyard was abandoned and never used again, though it sat close to Tom Riddle’s own family manor. Instead, he chose empty caves, abandoned houses, and deserted factories as the summoning spots for Death Eaters to come and pay their respects and serve their orders.

Snape was called back to answer more questions of his time spent in Hogwarts and to divulge more information about Potter and Dumbledore and the new formation of the Order of the Phoenix. He suffered from the Cruciatus Curse on occasion, but with less frequency as time passed. The Dark Lord was still suspicious of him, but he soon began to realize that of all his Death Eaters, Snape was not only the smartest but also the most brave and cunning.

Small bits of information began to trickle into the Order: estimates of locations, possible plans, names of Death Eaters, and their tactics for recruitment. It wasn’t much, but it made them feel as though they were gaining some ground against the Dark Lord. Snape was just thankful to be able to appear useful to both camps. If he were ever to lose favor with one, the other would surely turn him out, if not exterminate him immediately. Sometimes he thought it too much work to try to stay alive.

It was near mid summer before he was finally able to take a few days and return to his home. The moment the door closed and he was immersed in the dark, dank silence of the house, Snape let out a deep sigh of exhaustion and relief. He was hardly three steps up toward his bedroom when a rattle at the door stopped him.

For more than a moment ,he considered ignoring whomever or whatever might be on the other side. But a nagging worry that it could be word from Dumbledore made him take the three steps back down and wrench the door open with impatient fury.

An owl sat at the stoop, a scrap of something red affixed to its leg. Snape couldn’t remember the last time he had received a Howler. He stood holding the scarlet note in his hand, mentally listing the number of people who could want to yell at him, when it popped open and the unmistakable voice of Demelza Collins filled the hall.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I have been trying to track you down for days! I am positively sick with worry, and you are nowhere to be found!

Davindra has disappeared. She left my house three days ago for a stay with Lillyth Sparrow, but she never appeared. We have searched everywhere for her. We’ve contacted everyone we know, the Ministry, even Hogwarts, but everyone is either too busy to help us or completely unsympathetic to our troubles.

With Death Eaters and possibly the Dark Lord himself running lose, there could be no end to the horrors that Davindra has faced. I have no possible idea where she could have gone off to, so my only other recourse is to assume she has been kidnapped.

Severus, you have GOT to do something! I beg you! You are her protector; you must do something immediately! And though I can assume you are quite “preoccupied” with all the new developments, I beseech you to give this matter your utmost attention. An innocent girl’s life is at stake. I cannot bear to think the worst. You have to help us. I trust you above all others. Do not fail me, Severus! Contact me the moment you know something.

Snape slumped against the wall when the note was finally silenced and lying lifeless on the floor. This was the last thing that he needed. Another task that he was bound to accomplish under penalty of death. When his anger and annoyance subsided, Snape had to admit that there was a cold ball of dread in his stomach at the thought of Davindra being lost out there amongst the danger that now oozed from every dark corner. Could it be Malfoy? Or possibly just some derelict deviant who saw an opportunity?

Forgetting his tiredness, Snape rushed to gather the Vision Well and supplies. Hopefully, Davindra still had the binding amulet around her neck. It took a frustratingly long time to have the Well operational again. Snape feared that in the precious time that was squandered, any number of horrible things could have befallen her.

Finally, the smoky substance rolled about the bowl, and Snape placed the beryl crystal inside. He spoke the words that connected the twin stones and then concentrated on Davindra and the spell that would bring her to him. The room around him disappeared, and he felt the sting of being peeled away from his surroundings. Snape found himself in a heavy fog, which cleared only slightly to reveal a rundown street shrouded in rainy mist.

Just ahead of him a figure walked hunched forward, a jacket pulled tightly around her, her damp hair clinging to her body. The street was bordered on both sides by empty, rubbish-strewn lots, sagging fences, dilapidated houses, and closed store fronts. Everything was some shade of gray. A dingy film seem to blanket everything in an oppressive coating of permanent misery.

Davindra paid the scenery no notice but forged on with purposeful steps. She also hadn’t seen the two young men who had taken up pace behind her. They stayed back but didn’t let her out of their sight as they scurried around the curves and corners of the buildings. Snape looked around franticly for signs of where they could be. It could be any depressed, industrial town in England. Turning a corner, they passed a weathered street marker. The crossing of Shinbone Alley and Blue Avenue. Why was that familiar? Snape focused all his concentration on remembering, though he watched the two youths watching Davindra from half a block back.

Suddenly the realization hit him. It was his town. But on the opposite end from Spinner’s End. He should have recognized the depressed aura of the place immediately. Snape flung himself out of the vision and back to his home, not even noticing the routine sharp sting. Outside his home, he Apparated to the corner of Shinbone and Blue. Davindra was now several blocks ahead and moving further away while the two thugs closed in.

They looked like so many of the youths who populated the dried up mill town: hollow, bored, and hopeless. But there was an edge of keen hunger as they eyed the young girl ahead of them. It could be that they wanted just a bit of entertainment, or perhaps they assumed she had money. Worse yet was the idea that they planned to take what Snape had already had of her.

Snape clutched his wand firmly within his cloak and hurried his steps until he was directly behind them. Within a flash, both hoodlums had turned to see who had so swiftly and silently snuck up behind them. One was thin and pale with dirty blonde hair and straggly facial hair. The other had dark skin, eyes, and hair, cropped close to his head. They seemed surprised to see a man clothed in head to toe black, looking even more menacing than them.

“Who are you, Count Dracula?” the dark one asked with amusement.

Snape narrowed his eyes back at them. “Sort of.”

Giving an icy, sinister glare, he moved smoothly between them to catch up with Davindra. He heard no more approaching footsteps from the set and assumed that his appearance had thwarted their plans.

She was only steps ahead. Snape quickened his stride. Finally, he was close enough to reach out and grasp her shoulder. With amazing reflexes, Davindra let out a small shriek and spun around to attempt to drive the heel of her hand into the face of whoever stood behind her. Snape caught her wrist just in time.

When she saw him, she seemed to go limp with relief. “Oh, Professor, I’m so glad to see you.”

“So it seems,” he hissed. “Miss Collins, I am going to want the whole story of how you came to be so far from home and in such a dangerous place, causing no end of worry to your family, but not just yet. Right now, I want you to say nothing. I am still recovering from the screechings of your grandmother’s Howler.”

Snape grabbed her arm and began the march toward a better district of town where he hoped he could procure a taxi for them. It was growing dark, and the rain seemed to be coming in intermittent bursts of spray.

When they finally reached the safety of Spinner’s End, they were both soaked through and tired. Davindra shivered and tried to find shelter and warmth against Snape’s body. But he held her a hand’s-width away from him at all times.

“Where are we?” she asked weakly as they climbed the worn, creaky steps to his door.

“The place I assume you were headed all along,” he answered in an equally weary voice, “my home.”

Still keeping a firm grip on her arm, Snape led her through the door, then closed it behind them and secured it with anti-intruder charms. It was almost as dark and damp inside the house as out.

“You live here?” Davindra’s voice came close to him.

‘This is why I don’t have guests.'

“Yes, this is where I live,” he spoke with clipped words.

Leaving her near the door, Snape started a fire in the fireplace and lit a few candles with quick flicks of his wand. Davindra took timid steps toward the living area as her eyes surveyed the dim surroundings.

“Actually, this is very YOU,” she yielded.

“As soon as you are dry, you are going to your grandmother’s,” he snapped, ignoring her comments.

She made a disparaged sound. “I just got here! And I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“I am not the one who needs to do a lot of explaining!” Snape shouted from across the room as he lit the last of the candles. “What in God’s name did you think you were doing setting out alone during a time like this? Look at you. No proper coat, no bags. Do you even have your wand with you?”

“Yes,” she hissed back. “But I don’t know what good it would do me because I’m not allowed to use magic outside of school.”

“You could defend yourself. Expelled is better than dead.” Snape spun around to summon tea from the kitchen and a bottle of Firewhisky. “Did you even know that you were being followed by two delinquents who were only steps from overtaking you?”

“I saw them! I was just ignoring them, hoping they’d go away.”

“Oh, good plan.” Snape let his voice and his eyes ooze sarcasm, then took a long pull from the bottle in his hand.

The tea came to rest on a table near the fire, and Davindra took Snape’s usual chair near it. He continued an angry pace about the room as he watched her pour herself a cup of tea and huddle around it for warmth.

“I was worried about you,” she finally spoke. “You haven’t answered any of my owls, you haven’t spoken two words to me since… that night. And I know that if You-Know-Who is back, then that must mean…” She stopped and looked over her cup at him with haunted, weary eyes.

Snape stared back blankly. ‘The pathetic, stupid, misguided, sweet child.’

“Miss Collins, I am a grown man. I can take care of myself in most every situation,” he stated. The Firewhisky had now soothed his jangled nerves enough for him to speak reasonably. “I have been extremely busy and doing a great deal of traveling. I did not receive your owls. And yes, the Dark Lord is back and that means a great many things to a great many people. Taking off and telling no one where you were going is the most foolish thing you could have ever conceived. I don’t have time, especially now, to go chasing after you.”

Davindra lowered her eyes and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. She uttered a soft, “I’m sorry,” into her tea. “I just needed to know you were alright.”

Snape moved to sit on the couch across from her. “Tell me, what did you think you could do if you had managed to find me on your own and I was in some dire situation?” He cocked his eyebrow and drilled a grim stare into her.

She looked back with a tired but intense gaze, and her words were soft but determined. “I’d do anything I had to.”

Taking another drag from the bottle, Snape then set it on the floor. He let his body come forward on the couch and magnified his cold expression. It was best to set things straight now rather than later, he decided.

“You know what happened was a mistake, don’t you?” he began. “It was a terrible lapse in judgment on my part. I accept the responsibility for losing control, and you have every right to be angry…”

“Don’t.” Her voice was suddenly bitter and strong. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry for it.”

“It can’t happen again, Davindra,” he continued in an imperturbable way. “If it bothers you, I could Obliviate the memory, though it would be harder to do since some time has passed.”

She stood up so quickly the cup in her lap fell to the floor with a sharp pop that sent the pieces scattering.

“You contemptible prick,” she snarled. “You weren’t so calm and matter-of-fact the night you dragged me to your bed. So, don’t sit there and talk like it was a meaningless fling. The very idea that I let Draco Malfoy touch me sent you into such a jealous rage you couldn’t even see straight! You couldn’t bear the idea that someone besides you might have me.”

Snape looked up at her blandly, through lank strands of damp hair, pursing his lips in an attempt to hide his surprise at her shrewd insight.

“Language, Miss Collins,” he drawled. “That’s a very romantic idea, but a bit fantastical. You have bombarded me with sexual advances for years now. I simply gave in, inappropriate and wrong as it was.”

Davindra continued to glare at him with incredulous malice. “You think you are so cool. You think you have everyone fooled. Well, I haven’t spent the past six years watching your every move and not learned a few things about you that I doubt even you are aware of.” She leaned down to look him in the eye. “You can lie about a lot of things, Severus Snape, but not about this and not to me.”

Snape stood up. “It’s time for you to go. I’ll let you explain to your grandmothers where you were and what you were doing, though I do still expect discretion about our little mishap. Tell Madame Collins no thanks is necessary.”

Snape found his seldom used box of Floo Powder. He hoped it was still good. Holding it out before her, he continued his impassive blank expression. Davindra’s eyes still smoldered darkly, and her lips stayed pressed into a thin line.

“This isn’t the end of this. Not by a long way,” she said with dangerous calm, taking a handful of powder. Throwing the powder into the fire, she gave him one last lethal look as she stepped into the fireplace and spoke the name, “Sparrow Manor.” With a burst of green flame, she was gone.

Snape stood at his spot watching the now empty hearth. “Hell indeed hath no fury,” he muttered to the silent house around him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bright and early the next morning, Snape sat in his armchair, nursing a hangover and a cup of strong coffee while listening to Madame Collins rant and rave as she paced his living room.

“Although I’m very grateful for your efforts in finding Davi and returning her safely to us,” the woman spoke calmly but with clipped words as she sauntered about his living room, “I still can’t help but feel rather perturbed with you.”

“Oh?” Snape asked in a dull manner.

“Why, exactly, did my granddaughter lie to her family and take off walking halfway across the country in search of her Potions teacher?” Madame Collins’s green eyes flashed as brilliantly as Davindra’s as she stood awaiting his answer.

“I suggest you ask your granddaughter, for I really can’t say.”

“I have done everything but pour Veritaserum down her throat, but she won’t talk.” The witch’s temper was rising. She grabbed the edge of her pale purple cloak and swished it around her as she again began her dramatic march about the room. “I want to know exactly what is going on between you two.”

“I have spoken to you repeatedly about your granddaughter’s misguided affections,” Snape said smoothly. “You surely don’t have any delusion that I encouraged her to run away.”

“Frankly, I don’t know what to think, Severus. Abigail said that she came home from Hogwarts very depressed and anxious.”

“A student was killed and the Dark Lord has returned,” Snape stated. “I’d be suspicious if she wasn’t depressed and anxious.”

Madame Collins gave him a deep look and sat down on the edge of the couch. “So it’s true about the Dark Lord. You’re certain? Have you seen him?” Her eyes flashed with a searing chill.

“I’ve seen enough to be certain,” he replied coolly.

The woman continued to eye him with interest. “Strangely, Lucius Malfoy has not been back to see me. When I attempted to learn his whereabouts after Davi disappeared, he was nowhere to be found. I was almost certain he was involved, but now I fear the worst for him.”

Snape swirled the last of his coffee in the cup. “He is no doubt out serving the Dark Lord, I expect,” he murmured.

“But what of you, Severus?” She cocked her head to one side, a mirthless smile touching her lips. “Are you in service of him also?”

Snape stared back. There was something swimming below the surface of Madame Collins’s question that appeared menacing.

“Would you really entrust your beloved granddaughter to me if I were?” he tossed back coolly.

Her joyless smile widened. “I’ve told you that it mattered not to me which side you were on. But I do happen to know that the Dark Lord does not allow retirement from his ranks.”

“And how is it that you know this?” He kept his black gaze just as icy as her demeanor.

“That’s a fact anyone who pays attention would have picked up on by now.” Still her smile remained as unsettling as any murderous look could be. “But my concern today is for my granddaughter, who came from your home furious and crying and unwilling to say anything but that she was fine and she didn’t wish to talk about it. This wouldn’t be a lover’s tiff, now, would it, Severus?”

“Lovers?” Snape scoffed. “Hardly. If I were in the market for a lover, I think I could find one my own age who wouldn’t cost me my job nor my sanity. Your granddaughter is troubled, emotional, and prone to fantasies. I’m not blaming her. She’s been through a great deal in the past year. I’m sure the death at school brought back a lot of unpleasant memories for her. But her latching on to me is just another cry for help, a desire for a father-figure in her life again.” Snape sat back feeling quite pleased with his off-the-cuff diagnosis.

“Perhaps some time spent with her grandfather?” he added. “Or St. Mungo’s has some excellent Healers for this sort of depression.”

Madame Collins rolled her eyes and snapped herself off the couch. “Davindra is not mentally unbalanced! And Clive Sparrow never had the time for his own wife and children, much less Davi. No, Severus, I find this all very suspicious.”

“Frankly, I’d say you only have yourself to blame for this, Madame,” he pushed on casually. “You’ve made her dependant upon me. Year after year you find a way to keep her reliant on my assistance and guidance as though her life depended on it. Is it any wonder she has developed this attachment?”

She turned to look at him darkly. “I have put trust in you, Snape! How do I know that it isn’t you who has taken advantage of the situation? It’s not that I could blame you really. I am aware of how mesmerizing she can be when she tries. A beautiful, devoted, young woman would be hard for most men to resist.”

“I am not most men, Madame,” Snape answered with narrowed eyes. “And I grow weary of this ridiculous discussion and revolting accusations.”

He stood to escort Madame Collins to the door. “I have great admiration for your granddaughter’s talent and a devout desire to see her successful and contented in all her endeavors. I have done everything that you have asked of me, and then some. Incorrect interpretation of my efforts is not my problem.”

Snape stood at the open door looking down at Madame Collins. She looked back with her usual reserved smile and suspiciously cool eyes.

“Forgive my impertinence.” There was an edge of mocking to her voice. “But you must understand my reason for concern. Davindra is very special to us; irreplaceable, in fact. I don’t anticipate that her life will ever be easy. But I just wish to save her as much pain as possible, especially while she is still so young and impressionable. It would be prudent if you agreed.”

“I agree whole-heartedly,” Snape replied. “And if that is all you require, then we are through.”

Madame Collins continued to stare him down, though her dim smile stayed painted in place. “Again, my gratitude, Severus, for your efforts. We’ll speak soon, I’m sure.”

“I am sure, as well,” he uttered miserably and watched her walk from his door and Disapparate.

Madame Potion: Chapter Ten

2007-02-07T17:51:06Z

Year Five: The Broken Fall

But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
Here in this lonely place
Tangled up in our embrace
There’s nothing I’d like better than to fall
Fear--Sarah McLachlan

Severus Snape stood before a mirror in his chambers, surveying his appearance. There was a strange nervousness in his stomach, which he dismissed as an absurdity. He smoothed his still-damp hair. His scalp and body felt dry and uncomfortable from the thorough scrubbing he had given himself in preparation for the Yule Ball.

He peered closely at his face. Snape had always known that his looks were distasteful. All of the least appealing features of his parents had been bestowed upon him. His lank hair, thin face, and sallow complexion came from his mother. His hawkish nose, tar-black eyes, and lean, angular body were curses from his father. It had never bothered him to be called “ugly,” since he knew it to be true. Therefore, he had never felt the need to care about his appearance. It was perfectly comfortable hiding behind the long, unkempt curtains of black hair and layers of dark clothing. It made him feel invulnerable and fierce. Appealing to anyone had never seemed important. That made it all the more distressing that it should matter now.

For the third time he checked the buttons at his cuffs. His dress robes didn’t look much different than his regular robes. They were just cleaner and less worn. There was still a crisp newness to their folds and seams that he couldn’t help but enjoy. If it could ever be said that Snape could cut a striking figure, now would be the time. He turned from the mirror to make his way to the entrance hall and oversee the beginning of the evening.

Davindra had agreed to accompany Theodore Nott to the ball, but not without some persuasion. She had come to Snape saying that Nott had asked her, but she was unsure of accepting since she didn’t know him and thought his sudden offer peculiar. She admitted with more than an air of disappointment that he wasn’t quite who she had in mind. Snape need not even ask to know that the list was probably topped by Draco Malfoy.

“It is barely three days before the ball, Miss Collins,” he had told her. “No one fitting your taste has asked you yet. I suggest you take this more than suitable offer. I can vouch for Nott’s manners, bloodline, and relative intelligence. You could do much worse.”

“I should have gone with George Weasley when he asked me,” she had muttered.

“If you could do no better than a half-witted, carnival freak Gryffindor, then you’d be best off to not go at all,” he’d retorted.

Davindra accepted Nott’s offer but with much less enthusiasm than Snape had seen since the announcement of the ball.

The entrance hall was crowded with people Snape could hardly identify. It seemed that the majority of the students cleaned up nicely, many almost unrecognizable in fact, in their finery. His eyes continued to sweep the hall until he saw someone whose beauty and grace outshone everyone and everything around her. Many other eyes gazed upon her approvingly, though she stood alone, speaking to no one, and looking almost miserable.

Davindra wore a long dress robe of green so dark it almost looked black. An open, plunging neckline exposed an inviting view of satiny, ivory skin. Her hair was drawn into a complicated arrangement held in place with an ornate clasp.

However, her look brightened when Snape approached her. She smiled warmly, and he forgot for a moment that the hall was filled with a noisy crowd.

“Miss Collins,” he said softly as he drew close, “you look enchanting.” The words had come out before he could stop them, and he quickly recovered by adding an airy, unimpressed look to his face.

But she seemed to know him too well and increased her smile. “You look most dashing also, Professor.”

He gave her an unconvinced sneer and returned his gaze to the growing crowd of students.

“Where is Mr. Nott? I hope not backing out of your date.”

Davindra began to reply when they both spotted Nott running toward them, his dress robes flapping about him.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had some trouble getting ready,” he panted.

Then he seemed to take in the young woman standing before him. He looked even more impressed than Snape had felt.

“Wow, you really look amazing,” he said, still breathless.

Davindra smiled in return but said nothing.

It was time for Snape to leave them on their own, but he couldn’t ignore his reluctance. He kept a hard eye on Nott, hoping the boy would recognize it as a reminder of their agreement, but he was still too taken with the beauty of his date to notice anything.

McGonagall called for everyone to go into the Great Hall. Nott offered his arm, and Davindra tentatively took it with a forced smile. Before they got too far, Snape moved close enough to the boy to growl in his ear, “Remember our deal, Nott.” Nott gave a nod over his shoulder and continued on.

The Tournament Champions then cued up to make a grand entrance. Snape took a few steps to stand beside McGonagall who gave him an appraising look.

“Why, Severus, you look quite presentable,” she said with a touch of a smile.

Snape narrowed his gaze back at the witch. “Minerva, you old flirt.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All during dinner, Snape kept a careful eye in the direction of Davindra and Nott, though it was hard to see well with so many students crowded at each table. They were amongst a group of Slytherins in which Draco Malfoy was seated. He would often sneak an almost wistful look at Davindra when Pansy Parkinson was chattering wildly with someone else. Davindra and Nott spoke some and even laughed a few times, but it was plain that the arrangement was staged and uncomfortable. Davindra obviously wished to be elsewhere, but Nott was thoroughly enough enamored with her to not know what to say or how to act. So he said and did very little.

When the dancing started, they rose with everyone else to take the cursory stroll around the floor. When the more exuberant music began and people paired off to truly let lose and enjoy themselves, Davindra and Nott sat back down.

Though Snape tried to make himself inconspicuous in the Great Hall, Trelawney stumbled upon him, reeking of cooking sherry and flamboyantly commenting that it had been ages since she had danced. Snape made a hasty excuse of needing to do a security check of the courtyard and left.

The courtyard looked as though it had been decorated by a love-sick twelve-year-old girl. Rosebushes, glittering fairies, and bubbling fountains created the perfect place for couples to hide. Snape was in the process of extracting two Hufflepuffs connected at the lips when Karkaroff found him.

“What do you want?” Snape asked irritably.

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you about something,” Karkaroff hissed in a frantic voice. “Your Mark, has it not been changing?”

Snape gave him a careful look. “How do you mean?”

The man went on to explain all the things Snape already knew, though he sounded near hysterics about the possibility of the Dark Lord’s return.

“Have you thought what you’ll do, Severus?” Karkaroff asked.

“Do when?” Snape replied blandly as he poked a rosebush with his wand.

“When he returns! You cannot tell me you aren’t scared.”

“Why would I have reason to be afraid?”

Karkaroff gave a nervous laugh. “You? You were the…”

Snape spun around to face Karkaroff squarely. “Now is not the time to talk of these things, Igor,” he spoke with warning in his voice. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

The Durmstrang headmaster continued to rant until they were interrupted by Potter and Weasley. Snape was actually glad to see them so he could have a chance to shake Karkaroff.

The rest of the evening was spent prowling the halls and periodically checking on Nott and Davindra, of whom he’d lost track of during one of his rosebush raids. He walked the castle for nearly an hour before he found Davindra alone in the Owlery.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to keep the surprise and relief out of his voice.

She turned suddenly to him and it was clear, even in the dim light, that she had been crying.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He strode quickly toward her, but she jerked away from him.

“Just stay away from me.” Her voice was bitterly cold.

“Was it Nott? What did he do? Tell me!”

“He did nothing but tell me the truth,” she spat, giving Snape an eviscerating glare.

‘Forget Filch,’ Snape seethed inwardly. ‘I’ll kill him myself.’

Still he played innocent. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

“Theodore told me how you put him up to asking me to the ball and how you said he had to behave himself and show me a good time, or he’d suffer the consequences.”

For a moment Snape said nothing but looked at her. Her hair was beginning to come down from its pins, her make-up faded from tears.

“You were the one fretting day in and day out that no one had asked you to the ball.” He kept his tone matter of fact.

“But I didn’t need you to bribe someone to take me!” she turned and shouted at him. “If no one wanted me, I could at least have gone alone with my head held high. As it is, now everyone will know that you had to pimp out a date for me because I’m too strange and freakish for anyone to want!”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly.

Large tears spilled down her cheeks which she wiped away angrily with the back of her hand.

“I’m going to be the laughing stock of the entire school. Even Hermione Granger got an honest date with a Quidditch star. I got set up by my Potions teacher!”

“It’s not true,” he hissed, grabbing her arm so she would look at him and listen. “Though your safety and honor were taken into consideration with this plan, Nott honestly has an interest in you. I noticed it and suggested he ask you. I just included some incentive when he didn’t seem to have the courage.”

Davindra shoved him hard so that he staggered a few steps back. “You bribed him and blackmailed him!”

“I only tried to give you what you wanted!” Snape shouted back.

“You only wanted to control me!” she screamed. “You couldn’t take me yourself so you sent in one of your Slytherin henchman to do your bidding. You spy on me, and watch me, and demand I keep few friends, and no boyfriends, and spend all my time with you.”

Her voice then calmed to a hoarse snarl as her glare hardened. “But you won’t touch me, you won’t come near me. It’s like being in prison. I have no freedom, and you and my grandmother plan every move I make and every thing I do. I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired of being your puppet!”

Snape watched and listened in stunned silence. He tried to grab her wrist to get her to be still and listen to what he had to say. She didn’t understand the danger she could be in. She didn’t understand how he was bound to protect her. But the moment he had her slender arm in his grasp, she balled up the fist of her free hand and punched him square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

“Stay away from me,” she growled. “Never touch me again unless you get the guts to do it properly.”

While he struggled for a breath, Davindra ran from the Owlery and into the dark night. Shame, dread, anger, and confusion poured over Snape. Quickly he constructed his thoughts. He would give Davindra time to calm down, and then he would convince her that it had all been done with her best interest in mind. She would surely understand reason. But first, he had to find Nott and inflict the most heinous punishment Hogwarts rules would allow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nott insisted that it had been a harmless slip that led to Davindra finding out about their arrangement. He said he only wanted to tell her that he had liked her all along, but in his nervousness he had mentioned Snape’s conversation about the ball. She had immediately picked up on the detail and had demanded to know everything. He swore he revealed it all only when she threatened him with an irreversible Bat-Bogey Hex, which he was convinced she could produce. Nott seemed as thoroughly miserable about the matter as Snape, so he let the boy off with cleaning out old flobberworm barrels and a lengthy report on irreversible hexes.

Davindra herself remained scarce during the rest of the holiday. He hardly got glimpses of her during meals, and if she spotted him, she seemed to vanish like smoke. She was truly enraged with him.

When classes resumed, she continued to ignore him, even though he stood in the same dungeon classroom, leaning over her bubbling cauldron, and handing out steadily declining grades. It appeared her animosity toward him was not going to soften so easily.

And yet again, Snape walked into his office to find that someone had tampered with the protective magic he used to safeguard it while he was away. Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody stood in the middle of the room, bold as brass and completely unflustered to be discovered. The one-eyed lunatic then said that Dumbledore had encouraged a search of everyone’s office.

Snape heavily doubted it. And his own lack of indignation at the intrusion amazed even him. He had actually been expecting this all year. His certainty that Moody would find nothing out of the ordinary gave Snape a confident feeling of immunity. Also, the knowledge that Dumbledore prized his service above almost anyone at Hogwarts, save Harry Potter, gave bittersweet comfort. Just let Moody try to find fault with him to Dumbledore now.

It was harder to explain how his supply closet had been pilfered once again. Snape wondered why he even bothered with protective magic. He might as well hang an “Open for Business” sign on the front of it for all the traffic it saw. His suspicions turned again to Potter after Snape saw how he conquered the second task of the tournament.

Davindra’s grades continued to slip, and her performance in class began to almost make Neville Longbottom look talented. He would have to speak to her. But always after class, she would hurriedly gather her things and leave before he could even announce that he wanted a word with her.

On a restless evening in late February, Snape prowled the halls in hopes of catching her. Eventually, he ended up in the library and happened upon a quiet conversation taking place between Davindra and Draco Malfoy as they sat at a table removed from the other groups of studiers. Stealing behind a row of books, Snape strained his ears to pick up their conversation.

“I felt sorry for Ted,” Draco spoke. “Whatever Snape did to him sure made him miserable. Or maybe that was just him nursing a broken heart over you.”

Davindra gave her typical unconvinced snort. “I doubt that. He’d never said a word to me, and Snape expects me to believe he’s got a crush on me.”

“I can vouch for it. Ted doesn’t say much, but I’ve seen him watch you. And when I mention you, he gets all nervous and red in the face.”

“Why do you mention me?”

Draco seemed to give a soft chuckle. “Maybe just to see if I can get a rise out of him.”

“That’s cruel, Draco.” But there was amusement in her voice.

“Listen, I’m sorry the ball was a disaster for you. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have that great of a time either. Pansy and her friends had a flask of dandelion wine they sneaked in.” He made a sound of disgust. “She ended up drunk and puking in the bushes.”

Davindra laughed out loud. Draco shushed her. Her giggling continued but in a muffled way.

“She’s really not that bad most of the time,” Draco continued. “She understands a lot of the stuff about me… you know… with my family.”

“You mean she’s pureblood,” Davindra said, no longer laughing.

Draco didn’t answer ,and Snape peered through the books only to see the back of the boy’s head obscuring the view of Davindra.

“We probably would have had a better time had we gone together,” he said finally.

“Yes, well, that’s sort of a moot point now, don’t you think,” Davindra uttered with an edge of bitterness.

“Anytime I even try to get near you anymore, there’s Snape giving me the evil eye. What’s going on with him?”

There was a sound of indignation before Davindra spoke. “He’s been well paid to keep an eye on me by my grandmother.”

“Really?” There was a sound of keen interest in Draco’s voice. “So that’s what all the arranged dating is about. How long has this been going on?”

He was getting too curious, and it was making Snape very nervous. He had to break up this little conversation quickly, but he wasn’t sure how without appearing to have been listening in the whole time.

Just as he was about to create a diversion with magic, help arrived in the form of Pansy Parkinson.

“There you are!” she snapped. “We’re supposed to doing Herbology homework. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, we’re just talking. I lost track of the time, sorry.” Draco sounded like a hen-pecked husband already.

“Hi, Petunia,” Davindra said brightly.

Snape could see Pansy growing purple with rage and glaring at Davindra who sat calmly smiling.

“It’s Pansy, bitch.”

“Right,” Davindra drawled. “Pansy Bitch, that does ring a bell.”

Before a full-blown catfight could ensue, Draco began pulling Pansy away, saying over his shoulder, that he’d talk to Davindra later.

She continued to smirk as she watched the two leave, then went back to the books in front of her with a weary sigh.

Snape counted to twenty before he emerged from the row of books to slide silently beside her table. Her eyes only looked as high as his sleeve, and she knew who it was. Immediately she pulled her open book up to her face.

Clearing his throat before he began, Snape leaned over to see down into her stubborn face.

“Miss Collins, I believe it is time we stopped this nonsense,” he spoke very quietly. “Your potion grades are plummeting, and I can only imagine the rest of your work is suffering also.”

Still she remained impassive, disregarding his presence only inches from her.

“Professor Flitwick was telling me that you have an interest in becoming a Healer. You do realize that it requires an E in N.E.W.T. level Potions as well as many other classes? You won’t even come close if you blow your O.W.L. levels.”

Now she dropped her book to glare directly at him. The first time she had acknowledged him in nearly two months.

“So, you’re still spying on me.”

“I am concerned,” Snape said smoothly. “Though you have decided that you are done with me, I still have to answer to your grandmother and my own conscience in regards to your future.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, beginning to gather her books to leave.

Snape grabbed the book in her hand, covering her fingers with his own and forcing her to look into his eyes.

“I regret what happened at the Yule Ball. I wanted to help.” He began his second apology for that year with slow deliberate words. “I realize it was an ill-conceived plan. But my intent was never to embarrass or hurt you. You can’t honestly understand my position. I know things that you do not. Just let me say that your safety, well-being, and success are my greatest concerns.”

“And so now you are hiding things from me also?”

“Trust me that there is nothing of any real interest to tell you. There are just precautions that need to be taken. Many people are taking their safety much more seriously now days. But what you need to be doing is taking your education more seriously.”

Davindra dropped the book in her hands, letting it fall to the table with a smack and pulling her fingers out of his grasp. She sat back in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms.

“Miss Collins, you are a very intelligent girl. There is no reason for you to be almost failing my class. I don’t know if this is just your way to punish me or if you are truly distressed enough that your concentration is gone. But whatever it is, I’m sure, I could help you, if you will only let me.”

Still she sat ridged and angry. Snape was growing tired of groveling.

“Although I don’t want to, Miss Collins, I will go to your grandmother about this if you don’t cooperate.“ He spoke more softly but with a dark manner. “What would she say if you miserably failed your O.W.L.s?”

Though she didn’t break her stoic pose, she did look at him with resentful eyes, knowing that she was cornered.

“I promise to keep in mind that you loathe me infinitely during this whole process, and if you wish to discontinue our studies next year, then I will help plead your case to Madame Collins. But in the mean time, you are in a dangerous downward spiral. Don’t keep making me give you grades that are not indicative of the talent we both know you have.”

She now looked at him with resigned fury. Her eyes locked on to his, and she leaned in to speak.

“Alright, I’ll let you help me.” Her voice was low but bitter and sharp. “But I’m warning you, stay out of my social life and stay out of my head.”

She stood up and again gathered her books. “Friday at six alright?” she asked.

“Perfect,” he purred with a twitch to his eyebrow.

She left without a backward glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she showed up at his office in a sour, sullen mood and spoke very little. Snape immediately set about with quizzing her over the work they had covered since the beginning of the year. She answered every question correctly without hesitation or enthusiasm. Finally, he set the book aside and looked at her from across his desk.

“Miss Collins, how is it that you can answer any question I pull out of this book, but you fail to be able to write a coherent essay or produce an even passable potion?”

She kept her expression blank as she returned his interrogating gaze.

“You’ve been doing this just to annoy me.” He kept his voice calm and silky despite the anger he felt. “You know you are only hurting yourself. What are you planning on doing, failing your O.W.L.s and destroying your possibilities for the future just to get back at me? That is very childish. I expected better of you, Miss Collins.”

Though she didn’t speak to defend herself, Snape knew he had bested her. Her pretense was foiled. Finally she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and looked off into the corner, remaining silent.

Snape continued his visual scrutiny and was about to cast himself into her mind to see what she might be thinking at that moment since she would not say. But the command had been barely formed and the edges of her thoughts only faintly visible to him when she shouted, “Stop!”

She sat forward, glaring in hostility. “I told you to stay out of my head,” she spoke through a clenched jaw.

Indeed a startling display of Occlumency skills he wasn’t aware she possessed. He couldn’t help but be impressed. Snape gave a twitch of his eyebrow and a wave of his hand in yielding. Again they were plunged in silence. Davindra sat back in her chair, sinking into the corner, her arms crossed tightly.

A sudden wave of fatigue swept over Snape. It seemed like his battles never ended; they were only added to. As if on cue to remind him of the most pressing of these, his ever-awakening Dark Mark twinged and without thinking, he absent-mindedly scratched his left forearm.

“Davindra, what do you want from me?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped to him. “That’s the first time you’ve called me anything but ‘Miss Collins’ in three years.”

“What do you want?”

More silence, but at least she looked at him, into him even. Her pale eyes appeared to be trying to swallow him up, and he felt breathless and confined, but mesmerized. Reaching up, she slowly pushed a few strands of black hair from her eyes, never breaking their look. It was a familiar habit he had seen many times but which never failed to hypnotize him.

“I want honesty,” she said with a breathy quietness.

“And you believe I have been dishonest?” he replied.

“I believe you hide things from me.”

“What makes you think I have any obligation to disclose myself to you?”

“Is there anyone here you trust more than me?” She asked this with great seriousness.

Snape was taken aback with the familiar question. He laughed at the absurdity of the idea. But before the sound had died on his lips, it occurred to him that she had made a very astute comment. Everyone and everything around him was divided into areas of black or white, good or bad, with the Dark Lord or with Dumbledore. She was the only person whose only allegiance seemed to be with him. Whoever or whatever he was didn’t seem to be an issue. He recalled the examination of her emotions for him and the unwavering faith she seemed to have in him for no other reason than she loved him, right or wrong. It was an extraordinary rarity for him to be at the center of such unbridled devotion.

Still she stared, awaiting his answer.

“What do you want to know?” he asked quietly.

Davindra took a breath and began. “Why did you insist that Nott take me to the ball?”

“To ensure that you didn’t associate with the wrong sort.”

“And who is the wrong sort?”

“There are many here not worthy of your time or attention and several who could even be considered dangerous.”

“Like who?”

“I will not say at this time.”

“Is there someone at Hogwarts that you need to protect me from?”

“Perhaps.”

“Who?”

“I will not say at this time.”

She glared hard at him. He returned cool, impassive eyes normally reserved for the Dark Master himself.

“What has my grandmother paid you this year to tutor me?”

“She’s paid me with information.”

“What information?”

“I will not say at this time.”

“Is that why you do it? For the money or the rewards?”

“No.”

“Have you made an Unbreakable Vow?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is she blackmailing you?”

“No.”

“Then WHY?”

“Loyalty.”

“To who?”

Snape felt his throat close tightly on any words that he might attempt to say. Who indeed. Where did his loyalties lie? Suddenly he wasn’t even sure.

“To those who expect it from me,” he finally uttered, not doing as well to hide the bitterness as he had wished.

“I never asked for this, Professor,” she said.

“Didn’t you? I seem to recall a very eager first-year coming into my office clutching a floxinium dragon seed and bartering like an accomplished broomstick salesman.”

“That wasn’t my idea.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“She said we needed you. She told me you were important. She made you sound bigger than life to me.”

There was an almost desperate, pleading look in her eyes as she spoke.

“Then we’ve both been fooled,” Snape remarked.

“Haven’t we.”

They stared at one another across the desk. The only sound was the echoed creaking of the castle around them and their own slow breaths.

“One more question, Professor. Why have you never mentioned what you saw it in my mind last year?”

Snape pulled the heavy mask of calm, impassive apathy down around him.

“I’ve seen nothing that bore mentioning.”

A fleeting look of pain flitted across her eyes before she turned her face from him so he could see no more of her emotions.

“There is no more need to punish me nor yourself, Miss Collins. You will easily pass your O.W.L.s with reasonable effort on your part, if you only wish it to be.”

Again they shared a silent moment of penetrating looks before Davindra rose from the chair and left his office without a another word or glance in his direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn’t exactly true to say that Davindra warmed to him after their meeting, but an uneasy truce did ensue. At least once a week she would appear at his office and take her place in the corner to quietly study. Occasionally she would ask questions or request that he quiz her, but often she would spend the whole evening in silence. Sometimes Snape would look up from his work to find her staring at him in a sad, uneasy way, which she would end the moment his eyes would find hers.

He should have felt worse for the way he had callously dismissed her most sacred emotions for him, but after allowing her such access to his own with her barrage of questions, he felt justified. Knowing too much would be disastrous for them both.

Often their times together were rather lonely with the pulsating stillness between them. He found himself wishing for the days when she talked too energetically or found frivolous reasons to stand close to him. The distance between them now seemed vast and impossible to breech. Snape had even tried an experiment where he pretended to need something from the shelves directly next to her. He had to squeeze behind her stool and stand with his back nearly pressed against hers. But she didn’t respond to his presence, and he soon abandoned the effort, feeling foolish and juvenile.

Karkaroff continued to hound him about the stirring of the Dark Mark and what he should do when the Dark Lord returned. Snape attempted to dodge him when he could and when he couldn’t, talk him down from his hysterical ledge. Moody was still Moody, clomping around, eyeing everyone excessively and claiming his rights as an Auror gave him unlimited access to all things and all people. Dumbledore didn’t appear to disagree and seemed to spend a great deal of time alone.

Harry Potter had managed two tasks with amazing luck, and now the entire school stood by to support him. However, the press was having a deliciously entertaining field day with him. Rita Skeeter had even attempted an interview with Snape about the Boy Wonder. He would have happily given one, expressing all his unfiltered opinions about the pompous brat, but Dumbledore had forbidden any of the teachers to talk to the press about anything. Rita had attempted a very enthusiastic persuasion at the Three Broomsticks, where she had cornered him. Had he perhaps been more desperate for company, he might have given in. But his desperation hadn’t been that great since Azkaban.

As the spring began to bloom around them, Snape noticed that nearly all the couples formed for the Yule Ball had fractured or been remixed in some form. Even Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson appeared to be on an out with each other. More than likely it was because Draco was seen in the company of Davindra on several occasions, much to Snape’s discomfort. All he could do was keep a careful eye peeled for them in the halls and on the grounds.

Nothing specifically stood out about their time together. It seemed to be friendly chatting and smiles for the most part. But Snape knew Davindra and her enticements, just as he knew Draco and his weaknesses as well as his strengths. No other letters had arrived from Madame Collins suggesting further reason for worry, but that didn’t put Snape’s mind at ease. There was still much to be wary of in regards to that budding relationship.

He attempted to ask Davindra about her involvement with Draco, but she shut him out immediately with a reminder that he was to stay out of her personal life. She forced him to do the only thing he knew. The Vision Well that he had resurrected but not intended to use was once again brought into service.

Snape tried his best to keep a visual on her at all times. In the evenings, when not with him, she could usually be found studying for her O.W.L.s. But one night she could be found nowhere. The library and study halls were packed with everyone in fifth year but her. He was told that she wasn’t in the Ravenclaw common room and hadn’t been seen for some time.

With dread and a hollow pit in his stomach, he went back to his office. Snape leaned down into the shallow Well and felt himself pulled in with a stinging smack. The fog around him swirled, and he waited for it to clear only to be found still in the dark. The room was nearly black except for dim light coming through the outside windows. It was a classroom, one that seemed to be rarely used. His ears suddenly picked up rustling and breathing. Finally his eye adjusted enough to see the entwined form of two people against a table. Davindra had to be one. When the light caught the pale hair of the other, Snape knew it was Draco Malfoy.

His heart beat madly in his chest, and he tried to reach out and pull the two bodies apart, but his arms and hands were useless. He was helpless to watch as their lips pressed together feverishly, Draco’s hands clasping Davindra’s body against his, her hands twisted in his colorless hair. Breathy moans escaped her as the boy’s mouth traveled down her throat and his fingers began to fumble with the buttons of her shirt. Snape thought that surely she would stop him, not allow him to take such forward liberties. But she only thrust her chest forward, giving him easier access. Quickly the shirt was pulled open to expose a pale bra, the binding amulet, and skin that shown like silver in the faint moon and star light.

Draco’s hand moved over her breast, cupping and kneading it against his palm. His fingers began to stroke the straps of the bra that shielded her from his touch.

Snape’s mind was moving fast despite feeling stunned and horrified at the vision before him. But not as fast as Draco seemed to be going. Snape sent himself back to his chambers, hardly noticing the sting of the return. He was too consumed with rage and disgust to feel anything so corporally base.

As soon as he found his grounding again, he stormed from his room and began a mad flight to the first set of rooms he came to. They could be anywhere. There were countless classrooms. He forced himself to think of what he had noticed of the room and where it could be. Whipping open the first door he came to, he peered inside and found it empty and dark, smelling of dust and disuse. He went on to the next, his wand raised and a flurry of curses on his breath. Nothing was found.

It had been several minutes. How much farther had they gotten? Visions of the horrific dream the dark calming draught had given him were reforming in his mind. Snape could see her legs wrapped around the boy, his hands sliding up them.

With a snarl he stormed on to another hall, one situated close to the stairway to the Ravenclaw Tower. He had a hopeful, anxious feeling about this area. Silently he proceeded, listening with every fiber of his being. The first classroom was empty. The second door, he pressed his ear to. Something rustled, a table leg scooted against the stone floor.

The door flew open at his command, nearly coming off its hinges as it banged inward. Draco and Davindra both jumped as if hit with hexes. His shirt hung open and untucked as he stood in front of Davindra, still on the table, attempting to hide her semi-nakedness while peering over Draco’s shoulder at Snape.

He felt as though he could strike them both dead at that moment. Draco started to speak, but Snape shoved his wand in the boy’s face to silence him before he began.

“Not a word,” he said through clenched teeth. “You embarrass and disgust me. To your room now. And starting tomorrow night, you have detention until the end of the year.”

“End of the year!” Draco protested. “Professor, this really isn’t… it’s not… ”

“Unless you would like it to carry over to next term, I suggest you move, Malfoy!” His fury wouldn’t hold much longer if the boy did not get out of his sight.

No doubt, Draco was not used to this kind of abuse from a teacher he believed to have in his pocket simply because Snape was friends with his father. But Snape would deal with any arguments from Lucius Malfoy later. Now he simply wanted to be rid of the hormonal brat and deal with the real problem at hand.

The young man started to move, buttoning his shirt, when he stopped and looked at Snape. “You won’t tell anyone, will you, Professor? My father, the other students… ”

Davindra gave an incredulous look of shock and outrage to the boy who would not meet her eyes.

“A truly chivalrous concern, Malfoy,” Snape said with silky venom. “If only you had thought of it before you began this little affair. Now get going. I’ll take care of Miss Collins.”

Draco walked from the room and disappeared down the hall. Snape turned back to Davindra who stood with her shirt tightly wrapped around her body and a look of embarrassed acrimony. He realized he still had his wand raised in her direction, so then lowered it.

They stood staring at one another. Snape’s mind was a chaotic jumble of vengeance, jealousy, and rage he wanted to enactment upon her. He wasn’t sure which one would win out, but he would decide in due time.

Without speaking he grabbed her arm and began the march to his office.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked when she saw the way was clearly not toward the Ravenclaw tower.

He didn’t answer, for he was afraid that when he did finally open his mouth, he might not be able to control what came out. Simple answers were not possible right now.

Soon she could see where they were headed to and gave a slight sound of apprehension and attempted to walk slower. A violent jerk brought her up to pace.

Throwing her inside his office, Snape slammed the door behind them and began a frenetic pace around the room. Davindra sank into the corner, as though wishing to disappear from the situation. With nervous fingers she buttoned her shirt and straightened her clothes.

After several moments, when he felt he could speak, Snape began in a low, deathly calm voice as he stomped around the furniture in an attempt to hide the shaking of his body.

“What exactly was the point of this evening’s little tryst? Were you just trying to infuriate me, or are you really that interested in proving yourself an easy piece of ass for Mr. Malfoy’s benefit?”

She glared at him from the safety of her corner. “If you’re going to give me detention or report me to Professor Dumbledore, can we just get on with it?”

Snape spun about to cast her a vehement stare. “Oh, no, you will have no authority in this. I’ve allowed you too much control for far too long. It will stop tonight.”

He continued his pacing of the room, his mind a whirling mass of confusion laced with frightening impulses.

“How often have you sneaked off to have dark liaisons with Mr. Malfoy or anyone else for that matter?” he asked.

“Since you’ve been spying on me, you should already know that!” she accused angrily.

“And if you didn’t want to be caught, you wouldn’t have worn the amulet,” he raged back. He realized too late that he had given away his secret. “Besides, it is my right to know what goes on in this school, especially where my students are concerned,” he added defiantly.

Davindra pulled the amulet from inside her shirt and looked at it accusingly. “So that’s what this gift was all about.”

“Oh, stop acting like you haven’t wanted me constantly looking at you,” he spat. “For years now you’ve paraded yourself in front of me in every conceivable way in hopes that I would take notice of you.”

She scowled bitterly at him. “You’re depraved.”

She attempted to cross the room and reach the door, but Snape was in front of it, blocking her way before she was half way there.

“That is exactly what you have wanted me to think,” he hissed. “You and that psychotic hag of a grandmother have done nothing but try to play me for a fool from the very beginning.”

Suddenly the plan seemed very clear. He had been a fool. He had allowed himself to be beguiled by his most base and primal urges. They had administered careful manipulation of his dreams, thoughts, and desires all along. They had plotted to make his life nothing but torment and agony for their own benefit from the moment she stepped foot in his classroom.

“Do you know what hell I have lived through because of you?” he continued to unleash his fury upon her. “Do you want to know what hell is, Miss Collins? Five years of gut wrenching nightmares and hallucinations in which I had become the worst kind of deviant, preying on my own students.”

Davindra began to back away from his menacing form. Her wide eyes held him in horrified wonder.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

Snape moved forward still. “Haven’t you? What were all those accidental touches and looks? What were the innocent kisses and clutching embraces? Surely you were never that demonstrative with any of your other teachers. No, I think not.”

She was now pressed back into the corner, unable to escape his cutting words or his vicious, accusing stare. Honest fear now leaped from her eyes, and her breaths came quick and short.

“Twelve years old and you knew exactly what you were doing climbing onto my bed,” he growled lowly.

“I… no… I never… I told you,” she stammered, near tears.

Snape’s hand closed around her delicate throat, and he found himself squeezing gently until she made a strangled sound and he released his grip. “You’ve never been an innocent little girl, have you, Davindra?” His voice was now a desolate, evil whisper. “What are you?”

Exhibiting surprising strength, Davindra suddenly drove her knee up into his groin. Snape released her and crumbled to his knees with a gasp of shock and pain. But he was quicker with his wand than she was and had the door locked and secured before she reached it.

She pounded on the heavy wood and pulled on the handle, which didn’t budge despite her angry grunts and curses.

Slowly Snape rose, moving tenderly and struggling to get his breathing under control while blocking out the pain. At least her sudden assault on him had brought him back to reality, cleared his head, and given him a moment to truly understand the situation. Despite the sharp pain between his legs, which had begun to ebb to a dull ache, it was suddenly obvious what he should do. A feeling of calm lucidity filled him. Everything was finally so clear.

“How dare you,” he said in a quiet rasp. “After all I’ve done for you, after all these years. After all the promises that have been made to me which never materialized. After all I’ve endured and sacrificed, this is how you repay me.” He moved closer to her as she continued to pull at the door, though her eyes were on him.

“I don’t appreciate you giving away for free to Draco Malfoy what I have been indentured for all these years.” Still his voice was calm, but icy. “Your grandmother saw fit to prostitute you to me from the very beginning in exchange for my services. You were brandished in front of my face like an illicit bribe kept just out of reach. And you played your part so well. Tempting me at every turn, driving me to madness.” His fingers reached out to stroke her cheek. She flinched at his touch.

“I think it’s time I collect on the debt.”

Her eyes widened at his words, and her mouth opened to protest, but Snape had grabbed her arms and turned her in the direction of his chambers before she could form a reply. He shoved her down the dark, narrow staircase, his wand giving scant light to the murky depths. Though she stumbled, he pushed her on until they were through the door.

When the door closed, Snape commanded every protective spell he could think of to keep all sound in and people out. With his wand he drew the outline of the door and slashed an X through it. Nothing would disturb them now.

Davindra stood shivering in the dark, cold room. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and her eyes flitted about the walls and corners as if looking for an escape route. As he approached, she turned her frightened stare to him.

“Professor, don’t do this.” Her voice was a sad whisper. “Please, not this way.”

Snape shrugged his robe off and tossed it onto a chair. “But isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? You said if I were to ever touch you again, it had to be done properly. Or would you really prefer Draco Malfoy’s inexperienced fumblings?” He spoke casually, his heart finally beginning to quicken with the thought of what he was about to do.

“But not like this,” she said desperately. “You know how I feel, you’ve seen. It shouldn’t be like this!”

Snape trailed his wand down the long line of buttons on his coat, which fell open at his command. The coat landed in the same spot as his robe.

Davindra continued to back away from him as he approached.

“This is no longer about what you want,” he replied. “It is what I want and what you owe me.”

With a snap reflex he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, the feel of her warm, quaking body vivid against the thin fabric of his shirt. Taking her face in his hands, he stared deep into those ice-jade eyes he had felt trapped inside of for five years. He knew them so well. She stared back, wide-eyed with fear and fascination.

He could stop, he told himself. But all the gold in Gringotts didn’t seem worthy of what he was about to have. If he hated himself tomorrow, so be it. Tonight he would finally know release from his self-sentenced prison.

Snape crushed his lips to hers and roughly forced his tongue into the soft, wet depths. Her protests were muffled, and her struggles were limited against his arms. She tasted soft and sweet, her body felt small against him. And although his technique was forced and brutal, eventually she allowed herself to become pliant in his hands. Then she no longer struggled against him at all and seemed to wilt into his arms. It allowed him to let his hands travel about her body as he tasted her lips, face, and neck. All the years of watching her had made her body a familiar map in his mind. Now there was the sensation of touch to add to all the knowledge he possessed about her beauty.

Somehow they had moved against a wall. Snape pinned her between the cold stone and his own body. Once more, but with weak reluctance, Davindra’s hands attempted to push away from him. But his strength and desire overpowered her. Vague whispers of “no” and moans of “don’t” came from her between his assaulting kisses, which he ignored and pressed on.

He began pulling at her clothing, not bothering with magic or buttons to free her from them. Satisfying rips and pops sounded as they gave way to expose her satiny, alabaster skin. He raked his fingers over the same spots Draco had dared touch not long before. He wanted to claim her as his own, mark her as his. But what if he were not the first? What if someone else had already taken that honor? Cold dread twisted through Snape’s gut at the thought. If it were true, then someone would pay a heavy price for their thievery.

There was a rhythmic moaning that Snape suddenly realized was his own as he ground his insistent erection against Davindra’s hip. He could have her right there, against the wall, and be satiated. The desire to rush, take, and satisfy was driving him. But a need to savor and enjoy called to him. This might very well be the only time he would get to experience taking something so pure that he wanted so badly and that was intended for only him. No, he would relish every exquisite second of his conquest.

Taking her wrists in hand, Snape dragged the stumbling girl to his bed. It had not been made since he last slept in it. He only allowed the Hogwarts house-elves in once a month to clean. He preferred his own filth to someone else’s rummaging of his possessions.

Pushing her onto the bed, he began a frenzied stripping of the rest of her clothes. Strangely, she didn’t fight him, but let her body be limp and agreeable to his directions. The last thing he removed was the binding amulet that hung between her pale, round breasts. Finally, she sat bare on the edge of his bed, her dark curtain of hair falling over her shoulders and into her eyes. Snape could have melted into a puddle from the perfect sight before him. When he reached out to touch her, he noticed a slight tremor in his hand that he wasn’t sure emanated from desire or fear. His fingers traveled her body, exploring every hollow, plane, and angular bone, every expanse of supple skin, and the long, lush cascade of hair.

Pushing her back onto the bed, Snape hovered over her form, again drinking in the beauty before him. Falling upon her, he buried his face against her firm breast, his tongue memorizing the shape and taste of her delicate nipple and his fingers tracing the line of her ribs. A strangled whimper came from Davindra when his mouth touched her, but she didn’t move.

His hands then traveled down to her hips and the soft, firm flesh of her backside. He thrust himself against her until he thought he would burst at any moment. Instead his fingers moved on to the downy, dark area between her legs. This time she did squirm and writhe away from him. But his strength was at a zenith and could not be challenged. Two fingers found their goal, and she gave out a shaky cry as he penetrated her. Disjointed adjectives swept his mind as he tried to comprehend what he felt. ‘Warm. Tight. Damp. Soft.’ He wanted to bodily crawl inside. But he intended to do the closest thing.

Fumbling with one hand, Snape freed his weeping, hard shaft from his trousers and pressed it against the spot just abandoned by his fingers. Davindra attempted to wiggle free, but he held her firm. He wanted to look into her eyes as he entered her, see her face as he claimed her.

As he attempted to push inside, she cried out, and he was surprised at the resistance her body gave. A couple more slow, forceful shoves, and he felt the flesh around him give away to accommodate. Her gasps and groans were now accompanied by damp eyes and a bitten lip.

“Oh, indeed I am the first,” he breathed raggedly with satisfaction into her ear.

‘Slowly, slowly,’ he reminded himself. He must savor this precious thing. Looking down into Davindra’s face, Snape saw her staring back in watchful wonder and surprise, a single tear sliding back into her hairline. His strokes were measured and purposeful, her breath caught with every one. She kept locked on his gaze. Her lips seemed to move in silent words he could not hear.

Slowly, he became aware of the unexpected sensation of her hand on his back. She had slipped under his shirt and was stroking his skin. Her other hand came up, and her fingers pushed the hair from his face, then pulled him down to her. He was startled and surprised by her sudden participation and not completely sure how he felt about it. But he partook of the offered lips and kissed her hotly until the insistent, building orgasm could no longer be held back.

When he was released, Snape could have sworn the outside world narrowed to a pin-prick in his head and nothing else existed outside of it. Ricocheting waves of pleasure spasmed through him until he felt empty and weak.

As consciousness again settled on him, he found himself still laying on Davindra, his face buried against her neck. The scent of her filled his nostrils and her hair wrapped about him like a silky cocoon. Again he was aware of her hands gently stroking his back. Self-conscious of his body and any vulnerability she might assume he now had, he rolled off to lie beside her and stare into the ceiling of the cold, stone room.

She said nothing and, like him, stared at the ceiling. The only sound was their slowing breaths. Several minutes passed with neither speaking. Snape desired the silence and found himself both wanting her gone and wishing to reach out and pull her to him. His brain seemed to be filled with an annoying buzz, and he found it hard to think clearly.

The bedclothes rustled as Davindra turned on her side to face him, but he refused to look. Her hand touched his shoulder, tentative fingers creeping to caress his collarbone.

“So that’s it?” she asked softly.

Snape didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure he even could.

“It hurt, but I suppose it does get better?” There was a hopeful strain to her voice.

Putting forth every effort to find his own voice, Snape swallowed. “That depends,” he managed flippantly.

She moved closer. He could feel the length of her against him. Her chin nestled against his shoulder.

“Was it what you thought it would be?” Her voice was oddly analytical. “I’m not sure that it’s exactly like I imagined. It must it take work. Practice. You could teach me.” There was a silky warmth to her voice as her hand moved down his chest to wrap around his waist.

“I spend enough time tutoring you, Miss Collins. My schedule is full.”

The feel of her lips against his jaw drove any further remarks from his head. When he turned, she kissed him passionately. Her lips parted to seductively invite him in. Her tongue met his and then took him in deeper to suck hungrily. If she had returned his kisses with this kind of fervor in the beginning, he would not have lasted as long as he did.

‘Where did she learn to kiss like this?’ Snape’s thoughts spun as he felt his desire renew. ‘Malfoy.’ His mind spat out the name and image like a bitter poison. Pushing her away, he sat up on the edge of the bed and began to straighten the clothes he had not bothered to remove during his ravaging of her.

“I’m bleeding,” Davindra said with a bit of shock.

Snape glanced back to see a stain of blood on the sheet and smears on her pale thighs.

“Don’t worry; it’s quite normal,” Snape said calmly. “I would have expected no less.”

“It only happens the first time, right?” she asked, wiping at her legs with his sheet.

Snape found his wand and waved them over her and the sheet to vanish the tell-tale blood. Then he looked down at himself to see that he too wore the stains of her virginity. For some reason he didn’t wish to clean himself, but tucked his now flaccid, damp penis away inside his trousers.

“Get dressed. I have to somehow get you back to the Ravenclaw tower,” he said curtly.

He felt her body drape across his back, her hands encircled his waist and her lips brushed his ear.

“Can’t I just stay here with you tonight?”

“No!” Snape barked as he shoved her back from him. “Now get dressed.”

Snape stood but found his knees were weak and his head light. Davindra stayed wrapped in his bedclothes as he searched around his chambers for the various pieces of their clothing. Several of hers needed repair, and he did the best he could so she would not turn up at her dormitory looking like she had been attacked.

After Snape had thrown every last piece of her clothing at her and again ordered her dressed, Davindra finally obeyed, though with very slow hands.

Once reasonably put together, they made their way to the Ravenclaw tower. The walk was silent and punctuated by Davindra’s sidelong glances at Snape, which he would not return. At the portrait Snape, much to Davindra’s surprise, asked that Flitwick be awakened. While they waited, Davindra eyed him with enough venom to strike him dead.

“You have a choice, Miss Collins,” he said with dim smile. “You can promise me, on your life, that you will never breathe a word of this to anyone, or I can Obliviate you right now. Which will it be?”

She looked at him with stunned fury. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to speak.

“I won’t say anything.”

“Do you promise? Swear on your life?” he pressed.

“Yes, I swear.”

“See that you keep that promise.”

Flitwick arrived in his dressing gown and night cap, looking worried and grumpy. Snape informed him that he had found Davindra out after curfew, probably attempting some extra study time before exams.

“Miss Collins, I am quite surprised and shocked at this behavior. Do you know how dangerous it is out at night?” Flitwick snapped. “Off to bed with you now, and in the morning we will be having a long talk about rules and their importance.” Nodding to Snape as he turned to lead Davindra into the common room, he added, “Thank you for your prompt action on this, Professor Snape.”

“It was my pleasure,” Snape said silkily.

Davindra took one last look back to dispense a death glare. Snape couldn’t have suppressed his wicked smile if his life had depended on it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape awoke in the morning feeling as though he had drunk an entire bottle of Firewhisky. His aching, naked body was tangled in sheets that still smelled of Davindra. It all came rushing back to him, and he lay back down with a groan of horror.

He placed the heels of his hands against his swollen, tired eyes and said, “Oh, why did you do it, you ruddy, stupid fuck!” to only himself.

For a few more minutes he lay in bed, steeping in remorse and guilt. Why had he allowed things to get that out of control? Why had he allowed himself to sink to the lowest level? He realized that it had all been a matter of time in the making. Eventually he would have snapped, and it would have happened anyway. It had to be that he was just looking for an excuse. Last night he found one. For once he hadn’t been concerned with consequences. Which was good and well for enjoying what he had. But now he would have to deal with the backlash. He would have to ensure that this latest dirty little secret of his stayed hidden and, more importantly, wasn’t repeated. However, it wasn’t only himself he needed worry about. He would have to stay vigilant of her.

Pulling himself out of bed, he finally washed the last traces of her from his body, though he still caught hints of her wafting around him during the day. It was unclear if he would be permanently stained with her scent as a mark of guilt or if it was just manufactured by his own mind.

With O.W.L.s so close, Davindra was kept distracted from her attentions of Snape. Though her looks were long and full of expectation, she didn’t dare confront him during class or with anyone around. During breaks and in the evenings, she along with her fellow students, were too engrossed in feverish studies to think of anything else.

The third task of the Triwizard Cup loomed ahead also. Dumbledore seemed to be feeling greater concern for this last event than any of the previous. Snape even had to admit that there was an uneasiness in the air. His Dark Mark had been growing increasingly bothersome, as was Karkaroff who seemed near insanity at times. The strange disappearance of Barty Crouch was the final odd twist to the unfolding suspicious events.

Snape watched the proceedings of the O.W.L.s from a distance. Students always emerged looking stunned and exhausted from their hearings. After her Transfiguration exam, Davindra was seen walking the hall like a zombie, murmuring something about her teacup still having ears.

The last task of the Triwizard Cup took place on a clear, beautiful evening outside of the now maze-covered Quidditch pitch. Snape took his place in the stands with other faculty and staff. He had just been thinking how glad he would be when it was all over and the extra people would leave and he could return to Spinner’s End for a much need solitary rest.

A strange silence descended over the field after the champions went in. Everyone seemed anxious and nervous. Dumbledore paced and stared at the overgrown hedges as if attempting to look through them. It wasn’t long before red sparks signaled one of the champions’ defeat. He hoped it was Potter. Then later again, another champion fell. It appeared that Diggory and Potter were fighting it out to the end. Snape had a dreadful feeling that Hero Potter would again come out victorious.

Time ticked on quietly and everyone waited. Suddenly the Dark Mark on Snape’s arm burned like a branding iron, causing him to jump up and clutch his sleeve. People around him stared, and he brought every ounce of composure into play as he excused himself and left the stands. Away from prying eyes, he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Mark in darkest black and burning like fire. It was the call. One he hadn’t received in thirteen years.

Panic swept through him as he thought of what to do. He looked around to observe that Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. Quietly and calmly he sidled up to the fidgeting Dumbledore and whispered into his ear.

“The Dark Mark has been activated. I’ve been summoned.”

Dumbledore turned to give him a startled but fierce look. “You’re certain.” His voice was firm.

Snape nodded darkly. “Karkaroff has disappeared. I imagine he has fled in fear.”

The Headmaster looked around to see for himself. “We’ve got to find Harry and Cedric.”

Calling Hagrid, McGonagall and several others, he ordered them to find the last two champions in the maze. Several more minutes passed by with an eerie silence now tinged with the electricity of fear.

Snape’s Mark burned and writhed in its unanswered call. He felt nervous and fearful in ignoring it. But Dumbledore had not told him to leave. He felt reluctant to do so on his own. Ignoring it would mean his death, but so could answering it.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and Harry, Cedric, and the Triwizard Cup appeared out of oblivion at their feet. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the crowd ignorantly erupted in cheers. But Dumbledore hurried over and knelt next to the prostrate boys. Cedric wasn’t moving and Potter seemed hysterical. Snape caught bits of Potter’s strangled words. “He’s back, he’s back.”

It was true. Snape needed no more convincing to believe the worst. And the worst still was yet to be uncovered. “Mad Eye” Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr. under Polyjuice Potion and the primary orchestrator of Potter’s entry into the tournament. It was meant to bring the boy to the Dark Lord for the purpose of implanting his withered spirit into a body and destroying the one person who could possibly defeat him. He was now flesh and blood, but still immortal.

The Minister of Magic, Fudge, would not be so easily convinced. He had not heard the story from Crouch’s lips. But even if he had, he might still have found reason to disbelieve. As it was, he had Crouch sucked soulless by Dementors before anyone could protest. He would be of no use to anyone anymore. Snape couldn’t remember ever seeing McGonagall so livid with rage. And Dumbledore was no happier about it.

Not even the display of Snape’s Dark Mark was proof enough for Fudge. He left Hogwarts even more embedded in his delusion that all was still safe and that the faculty of the school had lost their minds.

After the Minister left, Dumbledore began to give his orders.

To Snape he turned and spoke, “You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... If you are prepared.”

Snape kept a steady eye and a firm posture, though he felt his insides turn to water. “I am.”

He swept from the castle, black cloak and mask in hand. Finding the best spot from which to Apparate, Snape closed his eyes and said a quick prayer to whomever might control the fates from above and cast himself into the heart of darkness.

Madame Potion: Chapter Nine (Part II)

2007-01-27T23:22:06Z

Year Five: A Raging Cold Fire (Continued)

With Davindra now pacified and more than compliant to his wishes, Snape felt his days were less stressful. He didn’t round every corner with dread, fearing she was on the other side awaiting him. She kept to the agreement and never approached him outside of class and even rarely in class. Though often they exchanged carefully hidden glances in passing or across the Great Hall.

Their time spent together was also much more pleasant because there was something very specific for them both to focus on. Snape quizzed her endlessly about potion-making and ingredients. She concocted potions sometimes two and three times to get them exactly right. Often she would ask him about other disciplines in which she felt she was having trouble. Though he insisted that areas like History of Magic and Transfiguration were not his expertise, she still appeared grateful for any insight he gave.

She ceased her intense, amorous, paralyzing looks, and Snape felt that he could finally put the awful images of the past that plagued him to rest. There wasn’t a single argument or uncomfortable instance for many blessed weeks.

After the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived, the atmosphere at the school elevated to frenzy. He almost felt sorry for the new students being the object of all the gawking and whispering done in the halls and dormitories of Hogwarts.

Karkaroff had greeted Snape with cool, wary eyes and a suspicious grimace. He returned the look and hoped that the former cowardly Death Eater would know that he would be under heavy scrutiny while in Snape’s territory.

The Goblet of Fire spat out Harry Potter’s name to the amazement of everyone. Snape’s first thought was that somehow the boy had figured a way to get around the age line and put his name in himself.

‘Afraid a year might go by where you aren’t the center of attention, Potter?’ Snape glibly imagined as the boy walked passed him to join the other champions.

Karkaroff and Maxime fumed over Harry’s acceptance as the fourth champion. But Bagman and Crouch stayed strong and Dumbledore backed them. Again Hero Potter was going to get center stage and never see an ounce of punishment for breaking the rules. It almost made Snape want to defect to one of the other schools.

After everyone trickled out to their respective quarters, Minerva McGonagall and Snape remained behind with Dumbledore. The three stood staring at each other for a moment.

“Well, you can’t let him do this, Albus!” McGonagall stated with exasperation. “He’s only fourteen! He doesn’t have the education or training he needs to even begin to compete with seventeen-year-olds.”

“You heard Barty, Minerva,” Dumbledore said with a weary shrug. “It’s a binding contract. Harry has to go through with it.”

“Are you certain that you don’t doubt the boy’s insistence that he did not put his own name into the Goblet, sir?” Snape tested cautiously.

“I don’t see how he could have done it, even if he wanted to, Severus. No, I don’t doubt him. I think we can all see that he was clearly as perplexed by the events of this evening as we are.”

“But how will he survive this?” McGonagall asked, sounding sad and desperate.

“You both know we have taken extra measures to ensure that no real harm will befall the champions.” Dumbledore’s words were spoken grimly as the old wizard moved slowly about the room. “The threat of death is only an illusion left in place to give the tournament a true sense of drama and honor. But I do worry for his safety. Most importantly, I worry about who did put his name into the Goblet. For whoever did it certainly didn’t have Harry’s best interest at heart.”

The three exchanged more contemplative looks.

“Do you have any ideas, Headmaster?” Snape asked.

“None that make any real sense, Severus.” Dumbledore continued his slow pace of the room.

Since no clear answers were forthcoming, the group decided to retire and see what the next day brought when Dumbledore ask for a moment of Snape’s time. After McGonagall had exited the room, he began.

“Severus, there is something bothering me that only you will understand,” Dumbledore spoke gravely.

He motioned for Snape to join him near the fire before he continued.

“There is only one reason that Harry would have importance to anyone, outside of his immediate friends and teachers. And that is his link to Lord Voldemort.”

Snape flinched at the sound of the name, but remained steady and fixated on the Headmaster’s words.

“The events at the World Cup, what happened this evening, and several other seemingly unrelated events all having me seriously concerned that there are forces and people attempting to hasten Voldemort’s return.”

‘Again, that name.’

“You believe whoever put his name in the Goblet is a supporter of the Dark Lord and hopes that Harry will die in his pursuit of the Triwizard Cup,” Snape summarized.

Dumbledore nodded glumly. “His being singled out always makes me suspicious. He needs our protection now more than ever. We can’t help him through the tasks he has to face in the Triwizard Tournament, but we must be vigilant in his safety in all other areas. I know I don’t even need to ask for your most determined efforts in this.”

The last sentence was spoken as a pointed command, though delivered with the same quiet, even tone. Snape stood staring at the Headmaster as he considered the extra attention that he was being asked to give to the already egomaniacal whelp.

Perhaps it was the pained look on Snape’s face that made the Headmaster add, “You may not like who he is, or where he came from, Severus, but he is needed. You know that.”

The prophecy. Snape remembered all to well what was spoken in that room above The Hogs Head Tavern, and how it had led to his downfall and his salvation. He felt now that Dumbledore was wishing for him to remember all that was brought to light by that event and how none of them were the same after it was spoken.

Suddenly, Snape began to unbutton his cuff and pushed up his sleeve. He then thrust his bare forearm toward Dumbledore. The old man gently took the offered arm and pulled it closer to the light of the fire, his fingers lightly tracing the faint but easily recognized lines of the Dark Mark.

“It’s been tingling and burning, growing a bit darker since this past summer, around the time of the World Cup,” Snape said quietly.

Dumbledore raised his bright eyes to Snape and let go of his arm which Snape covered as quickly as possible, feeling almost stripped naked in the baring of the contemptible mark.

Snape let out a breath and decided he now had to disclose everything. He told Dumbledore of the visit from Malfoy and of Madame Collins’s letter and her suspicions regarding Davindra’s safety.

“You weren’t sure you wanted to tell me these things,” the Headmaster stated with a knowing smile.

“I wasn’t sure how important they were, until now.” Snape forced him mind blank as he spoke the half truth.

The old wizard sighed and once again took to his slow pacing. “It’s so easy to look back to the time right before Voldemort’s rise to power and identify where we misinterpreted the signs and what we should have done differently. Yet, we find ourselves in the same predicament, and I fear the old mistakes are inevitably to be repeated.” He turned to gaze back at Snape still standing by the fireplace. “What about you, Severus? Are you prepared to take up your old occupation if the need arises?”

A burning sensation began in Snape’s gut, though he kept his face placid. “If that is what is required of me.”

“Do you think they’d take you back in, or as Mr. Malfoy has pointed out, have they identified you as a traitor?”

“I think it all depends upon if I come bearing something of value to them.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “And you may very well indeed have that, when the time comes.”

There was a graveness in his voice that suddenly gave Snape a very unsettled feeling. But before he could press the Headmaster, he moved on.

“You know, Severus, as educators we are told it’s never fair to have favorites. No one student should garner more attention or special treatment than any other,” he said moving back to the fireplace. “But we all know how hard it is to always do everything by the book. I am no example to lead from. It’s quite transparent that my feelings and concerns for Harry Potter go beyond conscientious Headmaster. Maybe its because he’s been more or less in my care since he was an infant. So you see, it’s very human to have extra interest in particular students, especially if you see something very special in them.”

Dumbledore gave Snape a meaningful look and a slight shrewd smile, then continued.

“Davindra Collins is a clever, talented young witch from a family of tenacious, ingenious women. Madame Collins would never allow for her granddaughter to be anything but exceptional. She’s a force to be reckoned with, though not one prone to flights of fancy. If she’s worried, then it’s for good reason. Do what you must, Severus.”

Dumbledore gave Snape a firm but friendly stare over his spectacles. “Just remember where your fidelity lies.”

Snape returned the Headmaster’s gaze, wondering what exactly was meant by the last comment. But of course, Dumbledore gave no clue to its hidden meaning with his sedate manner and assuring smile. Snape had started to leave the room when the old wizard spoke again.

“You do understand why you have not been given the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don’t you?”

It was a shocking thing to be suddenly asked when for years Snape had refrained from asking that very direct question. He didn’t respond right away because he wasn’t sure what he should say.

Dumbledore stared into the fire, not at him as he spoke. “That position seems to work as a Floo directly out of Hogwarts and all good wizarding society. It has been ever since Tom Riddle asked for the job. I can’t afford to lose you, Severus. Not now. You’re more than a last resort for that post. I can’t say it won’t happen, but I’m certainly not ready for it yet.”

If Snape had any ability to blush, he might be doing so. It had never occurred to him that the reason he was kept out of that job was because he was considered too valuable to lose. He thought of all the times he’d considered quitting because he had been passed over.

He cleared his throat slightly to make sure he would sound dispassioned when he spoke. “I am humbled by your trust and confidence in me, Headmaster. I pledge to not disappoint you.”

Dumbledore turned to gaze at him. The old man suddenly looked ancient, tired, and pallid in the weak firelight. He nodded slightly to Snape and murmured a ‘Good night,’ signaling that the meeting was truly dismissed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following weeks gave Snape plenty of time to second guess his divulging of information to Dumbledore. For the moment things seemed equable, and he wondered if he should have held out longer, waiting for clearer signs to show. At least no harm had come of his talking as of yet.

To cheer him, there was the fact that more than half the school believed that Harry Potter was as big of a fraud as Snape had always suspected him to be. It gave him immense pleasure to know that the ruse that Potter had worked so hard to generate had come back to bite him squarely on the ass. No one was impressed that an uppity fourteen year old had been accepted into the tournament. Even Potter’s friends seemed to find displeasure in his blustering bravado.

Karkaroff was finally speaking to Snape, though not with any congeniality. It was mostly to complain about the situation with Potter and rant of its unfairness. Snape would tell him to take it up with the Headmaster or the Ministry of Magic because he had no say or influence in the matter. The man would glower at him and come close to saying something else, perhaps about something weighing heavily on his mind, but he would stop and walk away, muttering what Snape could only assume was Bulgarian.

As suspected, Moody kept a watchful eye on Snape and Karkaroff. Though there was something distinctly off in his character. Though he knew Moody to be a paranoid, grizzled, old crackpot, there was little doubt that he was still sharp as a blade when it came to knowing dark magic and wizards. But when Snape made a mention of a Death Eater who Moody always assumed Snape was working very closely with, and who had disappeared days before Snape was arrested, Moody only gave a blank stare and a grunt. He would have figured that the ex-Auror would still be enthused to track down the one that got away. Perhaps he was as far gone as everyone said.

Not long before the first challenge was to take place, Snape sat at the staff table picking at his breakfast when he noticed a commotion at the Ravenclaw table. It seemed to center around Davindra. Several students appeared with small gifts, giving hugs and smiles. One box exploded into confetti and balloons that made Davindra laugh with glee and begin tossing the confetti onto her friends. Snape looked about to see if any of the other staff found it as annoying and distracting as he did. But the few who seemed to notice only smiled slightly, and the others went on with their tea and newspapers.

Later they were alone in his office, and she had decided to dust the various jars on his shelves as he tossed out questions about antidotes. After she correctly got ten answers in a row, he paused and watched her take out a jar filled with dragon intestine, make a face, then wipe it with a rag and set it back.

“So what was all the fuss about this morning?” he asked.

She returned a mischievous smile. “Oh, you mean all those mysterious balloons and presents? Today’s my birthday.”

He knew it was her birthday. Though he hadn’t remembered the date, he knew it was during this time of year. But he liked her thinking he was oblivious to it.

“Was it important to make such a show of it?”

“That wasn’t me! That was my friends’ doing to surprise me at breakfast.” She sounded exasperated at his ignorance, and he tried not to smirk and ruin the artifice.

“So you would be sixteen, is it?” he continued in a low, disinterested voice.

“Yes, most do turn sixteen in their fifth year. So are you trying to say that you didn’t get me anything?” She tossed him an amused look over her shoulder that he pretended not to see.

“I’m allowing you to poke around my office while I help ensure that you don’t miserably fail your O.W.L. exams,” he said in a deadpan voice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“But we do this at least once a week!”

“So you’re covered on birthday gifts from me until you are thirty-eight.” Snape stood up from his chair and stretched.

“I suppose that’s more than I expected,” Davindra said with a snicker.

“Besides, last time I gave you a gift, it ended up being a point of contention,” Snape murmured as he began searching his bookshelves for new material to quiz her on.

“I thought that was supposed to be behind us?” she asked, a tone of seriousness creeping into her voice.

He realized too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. “You’re right,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as they both went about their tasks, attempting to forget what had just been spoken.

Snape found a book he thought might be useful and took it down from the shelf when her quiet voice broke the air.

“You know, even if the amulet didn’t do what I wanted it to do, I still found comfort in it.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, but he raised his head to listen.

“Just having something from you, something that reminded me of you,” she continued in the same soft tone, “made me feel better. It made me feel close to you, even if you weren’t there.”

Again the heavy silence fell as Snape said nothing.

She gave a slight laugh and said, “Funny, but I guess I miss it because nearly every morning I reach for it around my neck and think I’ve lost it in my sleep. Then I remember, I don’t ha… that I gave it back to you.”

Snape shut the book he had opened but not actually read a word of during her speech. He walked over to another shelf and took down a box, sitting it on his desk. Inside was the amulet she had thrown at him the first day of class. He untangled the chain and walked to Davindra, again draping it around her neck and letting it fall against her chest.

A smile spread across her face as she took the crystal in her hand and squeezed it.

If there was truly danger ahead, it was best that Snape have all the help he could get in keeping a line on her. Though the Vision Well would have to be reconstructed, it wouldn’t be as arduous of a task the second time around. He would just have to remember to heavily temper his use of it, if it even worked inside of Hogwarts. But if the amulet made her feel safe as well as build her trust in him, then it alone more than served a purpose.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Collins,” he said, careful to keep his words removed and short.

Still she smiled and looked into him lovingly. He turned to go, but a hand on his arm stopped him. His heart quickened with dread at her touch. She leaned in and placed a soft, gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. As soon as her lips left him, he felt the spot burn with heat and cold.

“Do you not remember our arrangement?” he spoke firmly, though he felt as though he were shaking. “There was to be no…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” she soothed, her hand patting his arm. “It’s my birthday,” she whispered and again smiled.

Stepping away, Davindra tucked the amulet down her top and said, “I think I’ll go now. But thank you, Professor.”

She left him standing, fixed in his spot, the feeling of an out of control cold fire spreading through his entire body.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape could have made quite an issue about what happened in his office, but going against his own gut instinct, he chose not to. He figured the best way to discourage any fractious behavior in the future was to pretend like the intimate moment hadn’t happened at all. Surprisingly, his tactic worked. Neither of them made any more mention of it, and both continued in their amiable manners when alone together -- though Snape made sure to stay at least an arm’s length away from her at all times for fear that she might take any bodily contact as an invitation to continue her advances. Instead, Davindra seemed happy to just have the time with him and her amulet back.

The announcement of the Yule Ball pushed the level of excitement in the school to maximum. The news had girls practically floating off the floor, while the boys nearly sank down into it. When Snape spoke to his house, there was no denying the division of enthusiasm. He told them he expected nothing but exemplary behavior and if anyone did anything to embarrass him or the name of Slytherin House, there would be heavy, severe punishment for all. As for learning to dance and finding partners, they were on their own.

He gave it little more thought until a week later when Davindra sat in his office, thumbing through a catalog and paying scant attention to him and the questions he asked her.

“What are you so engrossed in?” he finally demanded impatiently.

She gave an aggravated sigh and tossed the catalog to the floor, and took another from the pile she had brought with her.

“I’m trying to find a dress robe I like. Everything looks so ridiculous! They only make these things for children or old ladies.”

“And must you do your shopping during our study time?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s hardly three weeks to the ball, and I don’t have any robes, or a date, or any idea what to do with this hair!” She sounded almost panicked.

Snape bored a contemptuous look into her. “I’m terribly sorry to have scheduled preparation for you O.W.L. exams right in the middle of your social crisis.” Flipping the book in front of him closed, he sat back in his chair to fume.

Suddenly he picked up on the word ‘date.’ She was concerned about looking just right for someone. She was thinking of herself paired up with someone for a night of dancing and perhaps fumbled kissing and petting in a dark corner.

Davindra continued turning pages as she perched crossed-leg on a high work stool, one foot jiggling nervously, one hand mindlessly twirling a strand of obsidian hair.

Snape was suddenly struck with the reality that she was still so young. So often he had seen maturity far beyond her years in her eyes and her expression. Her stature and composure fooled almost everyone who saw her. But she was nothing more than a sixteen-year-old girl with bright, fanciful dreams of an enchanted ball and fairytale romance.

“Who were you thinking of going with?” To him his voice sounded tight and entirely too interested.

“I don’t know. No one has asked me yet.”

“Who would you like to go with?”

She stopped flipping pages, bouncing her foot, and twisting her hair to look at him.

That was a stupid question, Snape immediately realized, considering what they both knew.

“What student would you like to go with?” He felt both embarrassed and irritated that it was taking this much work to get an answer from her. “Roger Davies, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t think he likes me much since I broke up with him last year. Draco might be nice, but I’d have to lock Pug-face Parkinson in a cupboard to get a chance with him.”

That would never do, Snape thought. Madame Collins’s warning of the young Malfoy was still prominent in his mind. He had to make sure that she stayed well clear of him. Though he felt certain also that Pansy Parkinson would make sure that she was the one at Draco’s side for the ball.

“You know, I hear Harry Potter is pretty desperate to find a date since he’s a champion and all.”

Snape’s eye snapped up to find her smiling devilishly. “Don’t even joke about it,” he warned darkly.

“He is actually pretty cute,” she continued. “Moppy hair, nice eyes, funny, the whole “Boy Who Lived” thing.”

“Don’t be perverse,” Snape growled. “If I see you even glancing his direction, I will make sure you are serving a long, grueling detention the night of the ball.”

He dared another glance to find she was smirking madly behind a catalog.

So there were plenty of other undesirables Snape would have to watch out for, such as the entirety of Gryffindor House.

Davindra hopped down from her stool, a catalog in hand and came to stand beside his chair. She dropped the catalog on the desk in front of him and leaned over his shoulder, pointing at a robe on the page.

“What do you think of this one? Do you think that would make me look too tall?”

Snape was suddenly hypersensitive to the feel of her hair as it dangled over his shoulder, the warmth of her arm, and the scent of vanilla and… was it cherry?… that softly wafted around her

He barely glanced at the garment being modeled by a preening, half-starved looking model before handing the catalog back to her. “I am not here to be your fashion advisor, Miss Collins. And for your information, you ARE tall. I don’t think anything outside of sitting in a chair all night will disguise that.”

She gave a sound of exasperation. “You didn’t even look! Listen, I trust your judgment. Can’t you just give me your opinion?”

Madame Collins didn’t even come close to paying him enough for all the duties this child required of him. Snape held out his hand for the catalog, which Davindra placed in it. He looked at the robe momentarily, then handed it back to her.

“It’s too low-cut.”

“Really? You can hardly see past my throat!” Davindra looked at the picture again. “Oh, you really aren’t any help, are you?”

“Since you are so obviously distracted, I suggest we discontinue study sessions until you have managed to overcome this bothersome little issue,” he snapped.

“Just let me find a robe I like, then I’ll feel better,” she said in a distracted voice and went back to hop onto her stool. “I’m sure a date will turn up.”

She spent the entire evening in the corner of his office, making a mess and periodic inane comments about fashion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape watched the students closely during the pending weeks before the ball. Never before had he cared who was hooked up with whom or bothered to pay any attention to the absurd courting rituals teenagers orchestrated. But in watching who might have an interest in Davindra, Snape began to take in all of it. He remembered his own hormonal years with vague humiliation.

Very few young women had taken any notice of him, far fewer still were willing to be anything more intimate than a lab partner. There had been only a couple girls that he could count as liaisons during his Hogwarts tenure. A rather attractive, older Slytherin girl had gotten him into a broom cupboard and practically made a man out of him in his fourth year. He had found out quickly afterwards that it had been done on a dare. Though he had burned with rage and mortification, he found it interesting that the girl had been able to fake so much enthusiasm for just a dare. The second girl had been a rather homely but studious Hufflepuff who seemed to appreciate his mind as well as his company. Though she wasn’t his ideal and he did much to dissuade her attention in front of his fellow house-mates, she did further his education of the female physic.

Snape imagined that the students now days were further advanced in the lessons of love and sex than he had been by the time he was twenty. Some could probably even tell him a thing or two now. So many seemed filled almost to the breaking point with a lusty drive to attract someone’s attention and would do the most outlandish things to get it. The desire to pair up for the Yule Ball heightened the coupling.

Keeping a discrete eye on Davindra, Snape had not seen anyone pay her special attention. Though many boys gave her the usual long, lingering looks as she passed, it seemed none considered her a fair enough date for the ball. Friendly male students would greet her or even exchange a few words but then move on with no mention of the ball. He could spot the look of disappointment after each one left. A much younger Gryffindor did attempt to chat her up and seemed as though he were in the process of leading up to something when Davindra politely but firmly brushed him off. She walked away rolling her eyes with exasperation.

Snape began to believe he would need to take a hand in things when he noticed one of his own house members eyeing her heavily but only when her back was turned. Theodore Nott wasn’t popular nor was he an outcast. He was more of a loner. Not ugly nor attractive, stupid nor an exceptional student. He was someone who seemed to slip through the cracks of observation. For that, Snape found he rather liked him. His father had been a Death Eater, who like his son, didn’t command a lot of attention, but seemed to always be taking in and contemplating his surroundings.

Snape couldn’t walk in to the Slytherin common room without receiving notice, so there was no way to have a private conversation with young Nott about anything there. He sent word that he wanted to see the boy in his office. He showed up a short time later, looking a bit worried and perplexed. He had never gathered particular attention from Snape or any other teacher for anything good or bad.

Knowing it was cruel but unable to resist the temptation, Snape didn’t speak right away, but let the boy stand in his gaze, fidgeting fretfully.

“What did you wish to see me about, Professor?” Nott finally asked bravely.

Giving a cool, amused smile, Snape began. “Were you planning on attending the Yule Ball, Mr. Nott?”

The boy shrugged, his entire thin frame seemed to flow with the movement. “Don’t know, sir. Hadn’t thought about it.”

“You weren’t thinking of asking someone in particular to accompany you?”

Nott returned a cool gaze. “As I said, sir. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’re a decent student, Nott. A decent Quidditch player, you stay out of trouble. Should you not reward yourself with a little festive diversion?”

Though he might have been getting more exasperated with what could be viewed as harassment over his social life, Nott’s demeanor only became more detached. Snape again found himself impressed with the lad.

“Really, sir, I hadn’t…”

“Yes, yes,” Snape snapped at him, “you hadn’t thought about it. Well, think about it now, Nott!”

He rose from his desk to approach the boy. Crossing his arms inside his robes, Snape sat on the edge of his desk.

“I noticed that you seemed to fancy a certain Ravenclaw.”

Only now did the boy show any break in composure with a flush to his face.

“Now it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Snape continued smoothly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed most everyone in the school pairing off for the upcoming ball. Have you considered actually talking to her? Asking her to go with you?”

Nott truly broke now. He smiled, then frowned, then laughed nervously as he shuffled his feet and scratched his head. “Uh… she’s… Uh… No, actually.”

Snape raised his eyebrows and gave him a demanding look. “What’s wrong with her? Besides being Ravenclaw?”

“Nothing!” Nott interjected. “She’s… Uhm…” He rubbed his face, then stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them still. “Draco Malfoy said he might be interested in her, so I thought I had better…”

“Draco Malfoy will not be able to enter that ball with anyone besides Pansy Parkinson on his arm and you know it,” Snape said. He gave an exasperated breath and decided he would get nowhere being coy about this endeavor.

“Mr. Nott, I am very close friends with Davindra Collins’s grandmother. She has asked that I keep a protective eye on her granddaughter while she is at Hogwarts. Perhaps you heard, Miss Collins lost her father this year. Things have been quite difficult. As far as I am aware, she has had no offers for the ball, and I know she has aspirations of going.”

“You’re kidding,” Nott said softly with a look of surprise.

“I can assure you, I am not,” Snape continued. “I’m sure you can understand my desire to keep Miss Collins from associating with the wrong people.” He gave a meaningful squint to Nott. “Her grandmother would be most displeased. The best way to assure that she gets to attend the ball as she wishes, while not being placed in a situation where uninvited advances could be taken upon her, is to ensure that she goes with the right young man. I believe you are that man, Nott.”

Snape finished with a thin smile as Nott continued to stare at him with open-mouthed wonder.

“Have you not found her attractive and intelligent?” he continued to press when the boy said nothing.

“Uh, yeah… she’s gorgeous, she’s wickedly smart,” Nott stammered. “But what makes you think she would go with me? I’ve never really even spoken to her.”

“As I said,” Snape uttered with exasperation, “no one else has asked her. But it may not remain that way for long.”

“I don’t know, sir. There’s probably other blokes who would be better… I think I’m going to skip it…”

Snape came off the desk and grabbed Nott’s shirt. “That’s not an option,” he said with icy calm. “You’re going to escort Miss Collins to the ball, you are going to be a perfect gentleman, and you are going to show her a perfectly lovely time, and that will be the end of it. Do you understand, Nott?”

Nott’s wide brown eyes blinked rapidly as he attempted to lean away from Snape’s menacing form. “Well, if I really don’t have a choice.”

He let the young man go. “I’m doing you a favor, Nott,” Snape reinstated his calm delivery. “It’s obvious you like Miss Collins, you yourself are a very amiable boy, and she is in need of a date. I don’t see how a more perfect arrangement could ever be created.”

“How do I ask her? What do I say?”

Snape honestly wasn’t sure about the details of that endeavor. His own tactics for finding a date usually just required an exchange of money and the use of a spare room for an hour.

“Have one of the other boys help you, if you must. But, Nott,” he continued in a silky, menacing voice, “there are some rules that you must adhere to or else dire consequences will befall you. I mean it when I say you are to be a perfect gentleman. If I find you’ve laid one finger on her outside of a dance or a polite gesture, I’ll hand you over to Filch for an unofficial detention. After the evening is over and I hear that she had a nice time and all went well, you will find great favors bestowed upon you. And tell no one about this arrangement, Nott, especially not her.” Snape stepped closer to him. “Death Eaters keep their word and their silence. Your father would know that.”

Young Nott had stood staring at Snape with concerned wonder, but there was no doubt he had taken in every word.

“So, what will you be doing now, Mr. Nott?” Snape asked with a twisted smile.

He cleared his throat and returned a look of consigned certainty. “I guess I’ll be asking Davindra Collins to the Yule Ball.”

Madame Potion: Chapter Nine (Part I)

2007-01-27T23:20:11Z

Year Five: A Raging Cold Fire

Every day was a full-blown war for Severus Snape. A battle raged inside him that nearly equaled anything the Dark Lord could have inspired. An innumerable amount of times in every day he would find himself standing before the Vision Well. One voice would be saying, ‘use it,’ another would say, ‘destroy it.’ He couldn’t bring himself to do either. So he did nothing but pace, rage, and wallow in utter misery at his own cowardice and weakness.

He didn’t leave his house. He spoke to no one. Most nights he didn’t sleep. He ate infrequently. All he did was sit and concentrate on not letting the images and sounds of his last venture into the Well replay in his mind. The harder he tried to stop them, the louder and more vivid they became. He would have begged on his knees for someone, anyone, to Obliviate him. He doubted that he’d even turn down Avada Kedavra at this point.

An owl from Davindra a few weeks before school only added color to the horror he suffered, though, the note said little of any consequence. It asked of his well being and spoke of her own, then went on to ask what she should do to begin preparing for O.W.L.s in the new year. She again thanked him for coming to the funeral and for his “gift.” She mentioned that she looked forward to returning to Hogwarts and seeing him. Again, she signed it “Yours,” and that was all. But Snape read between every line. He saw her unspoken emotions, her timid hope that he would one day return them, the uncertainty in contacting him, and the confusion at his silence.

He read the note several times before he crumpled it and, taking out his wand, set it aflame, saying, “I will not be sucked into this madness.” And he didn’t respond.

Finally, Snape did the only thing he could bring himself to do. He drained the shallow stone bowl and removed the crystal. He placed the crystal in a small box on his bookshelf. The bowl was buried behind some old cauldrons in the kitchen. It was the best compromise he knew. The spell had been effective. No point in being angry because it had done all it had promised. He just had to remember that all dark magic came with consequences and restrictions unique unto itself.

Snape listened to the last few games of the Quidditch World Cup, wishing he could see first hand what promised to be a spectacular match between Ireland and Bulgaria. But he had not the money nor the connections to get tickets. His love of the game had always been great, but constrained by his own insecurities. His fear of ridicule had kept him from trying out for the Hogwarts Slytherin team. Though his knowledge and reflexes were superior to many of the longtime players, his lack of popularity and brutal strength would have ensured rejection.

So he sat at home, nursing old wounds and cursing new ones until an owl from Dumbledore arrived. It announced that the Ministry had agreed to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament and that two schools had agreed to participate. There would be extra students and duties for all teachers and staff, but it would bring an invaluable bond between the students and the schools. With a tired sigh he began to ready himself for a new year at Hogwarts, the past thirteen times he had done so beginning to bleed together into nothing more than a well practiced exercise.

A slight tingle in Snape’s left arm spoke of foreboding days even before Lucius Malfoy showed up at his door. Regal and haughty as always, the man attempted to pass the visit off as a social call. Though they had always been friendly, Snape would never have said that he trusted Malfoy as a friend. They had had many adventures together creating chaos and destruction on the orders of the Dark Lord. But there was carefully guarded mutual suspicion and revulsions between the men.

“Are you ever going to move out of this dismal hut, Severus?” Malfoy asked, not hiding a snarl of disdain as he sat on the worn, narrow couch. “Surely, even on a teacher’s salary, you could find better.”

“Little do you know of the generosity of the Hogwarts Board of Governors,” Snape replied as he summoned tea from the kitchen with his wand and took his usual armchair adjacent to the couch. “Besides, I do not have your standards of comfort, Lucius. I find these surroundings possess the most important traits for a summer retreat: quiet, private, and, best of all, free.”

Lucius smiled with biting patronage. “Ah, to have such simple pleasures.”

“Indeed. Now please explain the reason for your visit. For I doubt it is to investigate my living conditions.”

Malfoy adjusted himself on the couch, picking a few bits of lint from his rich, black cloak.

“Have you not noticed a change?” he asked, a meaningful arch to his eyebrow.

Snape continued with a flat, even stare until Lucius spoke again.

“Your Mark.” His eyes twitched to Snape’s arm, which lay casually draped over the chair arm. “Have you not noticed it? Doesn’t it feel as though it’s coming to life again?” There seemed to be a look somewhere between horror and wonder on Malfoy’s aristocratic face.

Snape surveyed the man carefully before he spoke. “I had noticed.”

“There are more rumors that the Dark Lord is out there, gaining strength. This, we believe, is the strongest sign yet!”

“We?” Snape asked coolly.

“I’ve been talking with some of the others. They’ve felt it too.” Malfoy moved to sit on the edge of the couch, his eyes flashing with passion. “We’ve decided it’s time to again make a stand. We’ve a plan to do it during the last game of the World Cup, where everyone will see that the true followers of the Dark Lord have never left and will herald his coming.”

“You mean, to try to save face if the Dark Lord really does return?” Snape replied, ignoring Malfoy’s look of insolence. “That’s the most asinine idea I’ve heard in years, Lucius. Do you think that the Ministry hasn’t planned for trouble? You and your little gang of followers might as well carry gigantic banners emblazoned with ‘arrest me’! And if I’m correct, Azkaban is exactly what you all were trying to avoid by keeping your noses so clean these last thirteen years. I see little reason to ruin things now.”

“But the Dark Lord…” Malfoy began with rage

“The Dark Lord knows who his faithful followers are without any crazy stunts performed in his honor.” Snape sat forward in his chair and glared. “You will accomplish nothing but drawing unneeded attention to yourselves and erasing any semblance of dignity the Dark Mark stands for. If we are truly needed, he will call us.”

Malfoy glared back, pursing his lips. “Then I suppose it is of no use to ask you to join us.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t lucky enough to be handed tickets for the World Cup,” Snape quipped.

“Perhaps the real reason you are discouraging us is because your devotion is not with the Dark Lord, but with that ancient gnome, Dumbledore, and The Brat Who Lived?” Malfoy spat out the accusation like gristle.

Instead of allowing his composure to slip and strike the man down with the flick of his wand, Snape smiled menacingly. “I’m sure you would like to believe that, for it would allow you the opportunity to perhaps undo the damage your cowardice has brought. Did you know your jealousy was so obvious?” he sneered amusedly. “The Dark Lord knows who turned and hid and who remained loyal and waited patiently for his next order, as any devoted servant would.”

“So you once again get to sit on the fence?” Malfoy raged in return, standing up to tower over Snape’s reclined form. “Pledge allegiance to both but never show true valor to either. I’ll tell you what the Dark Lord knows, Snape. He knows that you have been a two-faced coward who only wants to save his own greasy hide. When he returns, which you know will be soon, he will undoubtedly exact a proper punishment for a traitor like you.”

Snape rose from his chair also to stand nose to nose with Malfoy.

“Don’t call me a coward,” he breathed with venom. “I have risked everything for the Dark Lord. Something you cannot fathom while you hide away in your opulent manor hoping that no one notices that your only allegiance is to yourself and your family vault in Gringotts. Go on and make a fool of yourself if you wish, if you think it will change anything. But do NOT come here and question my loyalties nor attempt to understand my actions. It will be far too advanced work for your soft, little brain.”

“Why you…” Malfoy sputtered with loathing as he attempted to reach for his wand.

But before he could even retrieve it from his cloak, Snape had his own pressed into Malfoy’s neck, eyeing him with a blistering calm.

“No heroics needed here today, Malfoy,” Snape said quietly. “There are no witnesses to pronounce you worthy of the Dark Lord’s gratitude if you strike me dead. You’ll simply be a murderer. And surely you don’t want to risk a life sentence over something with so little glory. Now leave and do not come back until it is time. We’ll meet again, I’m sure. Meanwhile, if you get yourself locked in Azkaban, remember I said, ‘I told you so.’”

Malfoy left, nearly purple with rage, and his eyes bulging with repressed fury. But he spoke no more.

Snape knew the conceited bastard would run back to his little troop to report that Snape was not with them, so that meant he must be against them. His continued presence at Hogwarts was only proving his dissention from the ranks of true followers. But Snape didn’t worry. There was only one person he need convince of his continued faith. Until that person showed up, Snape was determined to stay as he was, a quiet subordinate to Albus Dumbledore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The news of the disaster at the final World Cup in the Daily Prophet elicited a groan from Snape over his morning tea as he read the headlines. They were truly as stupid as he had feared. All this bravado and spectacle just to parade a few helpless Muggles through a campsite. The only bit of ambition he saw was the use of the Dark Mark in the sky. Whoever had decided to send it up understood its power even after all these years.

Snape headed back to Hogwarts, his mind still occupied with the conversation with Malfoy and the events at the World Cup. The one comforting thought was that it had pushed the disturbing obsession with Davindra and the Vision Well from his head for the time being.

Once settled in, Dumbledore called everyone together for the first meeting of the year to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. Snape hadn’t realized that Karkaroff had taken a position as Headmaster at Durmstrang. He supposed that “cowering former Death Eater” was not an occupation that supplied much of an income. So now the man was off perverting and brainwashing a whole new generation.

Even worse than the arrival of one of Snape’s former associates was the news that yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was being brought in. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore had broached the subject to one another. Snape had grown weary of begging and being irrevocably insulted year after year. Dumbledore continued in his casual discount of Snape’s abilities and desires for the position.

In stark comparison to Karkaroff’s arrival, Mad Eye Moody would be flanking Snape at the staff table. Moody had worked hard to get him dumped into Azkaban, and then howled like a stuck pig when less than a month later, he was walking the streets free, assuming his post at Hogwarts.

Both men would invariably be watching Snape for signs of anything dark or menacing. Karkaroff would take it as a chance to latch on to Snape for protection, for he had run and hidden like a timid dog after the Dark Lord’s downfall. Moody, however, would not miss another chance to put Snape back in Azkaban for good. Snape sat grinding his teeth in rage for the majority of the meeting, causing himself a painful headache that only a large amount of wine and calming draught could clear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Students began arriving, and the usual cheerful bedlam ensued. Snape again had to rush to make it to the house sorting and feast on time. Once settled in his chair, his eyes swept the Slytherin table to see many familiar faces. Draco Malfoy glared at him and gave a snarl of distaste before he turned to speak with Vincent Crabbe. Obviously, Lucius didn’t think twice about involving his young son in his own witless deeds.

Without thinking, Snape’s eyes then swept over to the Ravenclaw table. Almost instantly he found Davindra, gracefully perched on the edge of her bench, chatting merrily with a girl across the table. She laughed at something that was said, then paused and looked down the line of students’ heads to return Snape’s gaze. Her smile vanished and was replaced with a stern, chilly look with no hint of pleasure or relief at the sight of him. She eventually broke the enervating scrutiny and went back to her conversation as though Snape’s presence had never been noticed.

‘My, I seem to be on everyone’s shit-list already,’ he mused. ‘I wonder if that is a new personal record?’

Legilimency wasn’t needed to know exactly what was going through Davindra’s mind. She was loathing him for disappointing and abandoning her. Snape took a long swallow of mead and repeated the mantra he had chanted since her letter had arrived: ‘I will not play into her games, I will not be sucked in, I will not allow her any control.’ He didn’t give her another glance for the rest of the evening.

The first day of classes were the usual whirlwind, except now everything was accentuated with the enthusiastic chatter about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament and the arrival of new students. It was like trying to reign in wild centaurs to get them to focus on any task put before them.

Fifth-year Potions would be daunting. Snape dreaded it more than any class he had to face. Though he knew he would be speaking heavily about the upcoming O.W.L. exams, there was still the battle to not let Davindra shake his concentration.

She came into the room along with everyone else and took her usual spot. She talked with her friend and dug about in her bag, completely ignoring Snape’s presence in the room. Even after he began speaking in his customary sharp, icy tone, she acted as though she were listening to nothing any more important than birds twittering.

The rigors of the impending exams and the O.W.L. requirements to continue with Potions study seemed to not interest her in the least. Her eyes stayed on her open scroll of paper, and her quill moved about it mindlessly. As he spoke, Snape glided about the room until he was behind her shoulder and could peer over at her doodling.

“And if any of you think you can coast your way through this year’s lessons,” he continued, “and carry on in the study of Potions in N.E.W.T. level, you are sorely mistaken. Miss Collins, what is it that is so engrossing that you feel the need to ignore me when I speak of your imminent future?”

He reached down to grab the parchment from her desk. It appeared to be a rather unflattering caricature of himself with an enormous nose and bat wings. The word “git” was scribbled nearby.

“It would behoove you to put more effort into preparation for your O.W.L. because it is clear that you have no talent for a career in art. ” He glared down at her venomously, though she didn’t so much as glance at him. Snape touched his wand to the parchment, which vanished in a flash of flame.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, and I think you warrant a detention, Miss Collins,” he uttered blandly as he walked away.

But through his back he could feel her burning, acidic glare.

As class ended, Davindra made no efforts to move from her spot at the desk. She still sat staring at him with a deep, dark malice. Snape, likewise, said nothing and went about his usual tasks after a lesson, until finally, after several silent moments, he heard her rise from her seat.

Davindra walked toward his desk with a furious stomp, reaching down her shirt and bringing out the binding amulet Snape had draped over her neck the day of her father’s funeral. Taking the amulet and chain and balling it up in her hand, she threw it down in front of him.

“Why did you even bother to give it to me if you never intended to use it?” she spat angrily.

“Were you ever in mortal danger?” he asked silkily, his eyes trailing from the crystal on his desk to her furiously flashing eyes.

“Mortal danger? Oh, I’m terribly sorry that I was never dangling off the edge of a cliff or suffering from an Unforgivable Curse!” she shouted. “I didn’t realize that things needed to be that grim before I could get your attention. You said ‘if I ever needed you.’ Well, I needed you! And you never came.”

Snape eyed her in cold silence for a moment. The truth of the situation would probably paralyze her with shock. He wondered if that would truly be any worse than the look of loathing, heartbreak, and despair that currently blanketed her.

“Miss Collins, that amulet was not meant to be used like an owl every time you started feeling down and depressed,” he began calmly. “I did not ever intend to be your confidant or your counselor. I’m terribly sorry that you misinterpreted my meaning. The fact of the matter is that I DID look in on you several times during the summer, and though you did seem to be suffering from grief, you appeared as well as could be expected. So, despite your dramatic accusations of neglect and fraud, the amulet did serve its purpose quite well.” ‘And then some,’ he thought cynically.

She continued to stare at him with scorn and fury. “Why couldn’t you have made yourself known, if you were around?”

“It wasn’t feasible nor necessary.”

“Didn’t you think that even just that, just knowing you were there, might have helped?” she asked desperately. “That’s all that I wanted really.”

Snape glared back darkly. “As I said, the purpose was never to be called in to hold your hand! That’s what your family is for. Why you didn’t take full advantage of it is not my problem.”

He was beginning to lose some of the heavily bridled control of his temper. He had never envisioned being interrogated about his reasons for giving her the crystal. At least not by her.

“You didn’t even answer my letter,” she said more quietly and sadly.

Snape let out a hiss of aggravation. “I knew I would be seeing you in a few weeks. We could discuss preparation for your O.W.L.s then. I was very busy at that time and couldn’t be bothered with casual correspondences.”

“You couldn’t be bothered,” she repeated tonelessly. “Or was it that my grandmother hadn’t paid you enough to cover summer work? I was so stupid to think that…” She stopped suddenly and shook her head very slightly in defeat.

Reaching into her book bag ,she pulled out a letter she tossed onto his desk along side the amulet.

“This is from Grandmother,” she said with equal emptiness. “She said you could do with it as you wish. Don’t worry, I haven’t read it. Only you can open it.”

She had turned to go when Snape’s voice called out to her. She stopped and slowly turned to face him.

“Remember, you do have detention to serve.” He gave a slight smile as he spoke. “Let’s say this Friday night at six.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape didn’t open the letter immediately. He waited until the evening when he was alone in his personal chambers and could savor the message with a glass of wine spiked with calming draught. The seal on the letter didn’t budge when he tried to open it. But when he spoke, “I am Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” it softly popped open in his hands.

Dear Severus, it began.

I had something quite tempting in mind for you this year, when a completely new piece of information fell into my lap. One that I believe would be of greater value than any bribe I could afford you.

Not long after the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, I had a visitor. Lucius Malfoy begged a meeting with me. Though I knew him mostly by reputation, I agreed to the meeting out of sheer curiosity. It proved to be a very informative visit. The great Mr. Malfoy seems to feel he is in need of some powerful protective magic for his family, though I suspect it is also for himself. He expressed great concern over the Dark Lord’s return and the fact that he has done much to incur his former master’s wrath. Mr. Malfoy was seeking anything that could assure that his family would not be touched when the Dark Lord returns and learns of Mr. Malfoy’s many transgressions regarding his devotion to his master. He mentioned specifically a book that he had stupidly “thrown away” because he believed the Dark Lord never to return to call for it. Even mentioning it seemed to make him fearful! And it seems he isn’t the only one. Mr. Malfoy talked of many of the former Death Eaters beginning to fear what punishment awaited them when the Dark Lord returned, which he expressed total faith in happening quite soon.

He offered me a great deal of money, which I have no need for. Malcolm left me quite well off. He offered anything I could name, if I could only give him some modicum of security. I decided that having him in my debt would be the best compensation, though I did accept a small monetary fee to seal the agreement. What I have given him won’t disparage a truly infuriated dark lord set on revenge. I don’t know of anything that could. But it may have brought him some peace of mind.

What set me on edge about this interview was not his news of the Dark Lord’s return or his bartering; it was the questions Mr. Malfoy asked about Davindra. It was not just conversational politeness after our deal had been struck. He asked of her time at Hogwarts, of her marks, if she was excelling in Potions as everyone had assumed, and if you were involved in her accomplishments. Worst of all, he commented that he had heard of her allure and charm from his son and that after seeing her for himself (where, I do not know) he had to agree whole-heartedly that she was a rare beauty possessed of “extravagant, untapped potential.”

Severus, I am not a naïve witch who is ignorant of her granddaughter’s appearance nor her effect on the opposite sex. It’s in her heritage. I know men of all ages look at her longingly. I’ve seen it many times. Snape shuddered at the unflinching truth of the statement, but read on. But there was something supremely eerie about how this man spoke of her. I find it completely unnerving and worthy of suspicion.

The information I have relayed to you is yours to do with as you wish. Report to Dumbledore, report back to the Death Eaters. It matters not to me. I will remain neutral in this particular battle and reap my own benefits. However, in exchange for my loose lips in anything pertaining to my services for Mr. Malfoy and any of his kind, I want to ask that you not only continue Davindra’s tutoring, but also keep a very close eye on her safety. Be especially vigilant of the Malfoy boy. We do not know what errands he might be attempting on his father’s behalf. Write me of anything untoward that might arise or of any needs you may have that I can assist in.

Sincerely,
Demelza Collins

Snape reread the letter several times. It was indeed packed with intriguing information. Why had Malfoy gone to Madame Collins of all people? Perhaps he knew something of her supposed involvement with the Dark Lord. How did he think Madame Collins could protect him? But it did prove he was scared. Very scared.

And why would he have brought up Davindra? What was she besides a classmate of his son? Snape remembered last year in the hospital wing and the many times he had seen them exchanging friendly words. Perhaps Malfoy had an interest in Davindra because of his son’s attention to her. Or perhaps Malfoy was just showing more of his true colors. Snape’s stomach clinched at the memories.

He and most every member of the Death Eaters had done things they wouldn’t have normally considered in their most murderous dreams because it was ordered by the Dark Lord. When the command was kill, rape, steal, and maim, or else be killed, one rarely had to think twice. Snape found very hollow but slight pleasure in his commissions at first. But after one too many gruesome raids and pillages, he found that he had no stomach for it at all.

There was nothing that the Dark Lord considered taboo, so no enemy was spared from the degradation of being violated, abused, or killed in the most undignified ways possible. Snape had done many, many things under the guise of pleasure that gave him nothing but a sickening feeling of maddening guilt. Malfoy, on the other hand, never seemed to tire of the tasks. He especially loved to interrogate, humiliate, and torture. And he was good at it. He had an affinity for lovely young girls, but it hadn’t stopped there. Pretty young men and those with especially weak constitutions seemed to arouse his attention also.

Was it possible that Malfoy had been SENT to Madame Collins under the pretense of asking for help, but actually to entrap her? Could Davindra then be the thing that would be used as leverage to get the woman do Malfoy’s or the Dark Lord’s bidding?

An astonishing coldness swept through Snape as he considered the danger that Davindra could be in. Snape gathered parchment and quill and began composing his reply to Madame Collins. He outlined his suspicions of Malfoy in very broad detail and said that as long as Davindra was within Hogwarts walls, she was safe. He added that Madame Collins herself should take precautions for herself in case she was indeed being set up for a trap.

The only way Snape knew that he was going to be able to keep a close eye on Davindra was to make up with her. There was no way she would allow him to stay close if she spent the whole year angry at him, no matter if she was in love with him or not. He felt a bitter resignation at realizing he was going to have to come up with some very smooth words to undo the damage he had done.

As far as what he would do with the other information Madame Collins had given him, he decided to just sit on it for the time being. Things would play out more clearly in the coming months, he felt confident. And when they did, Snape would know exactly where to place this knowledge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Davindra continued her surly, cold demeanor for the rest of the week, barely giving him a glance or a grunt during class time. It could have easily garnered her more detention, but torturing himself with more of her presence didn’t seem worth it, Snape concluded. He regarded her coolly in return, though he did small things to attempt to melt the icy wall between them. Ignoring her continued distracted anger, he over-looked it when her potion turned a vivid green instead of a pearly white because she had not waited to add the billywig. Though, when one of the Gryffindors did the same thing, he made quite a show of ridiculing her and vanishing her potion. Snape gave Davindra a low but passing grade for her attempt. She eyed him warily after receiving the grade, but he could tell some of the venom had left her.

The night of the detention she arrived on time, though cloaked in a familiar haughty resentment. She stood with her long, thin arms crossed over her chest and her pale jade eyes looking anywhere in the room but at him.

“Miss Collins,” he began softly, rising from his desk to begin a slow pace about the room. “I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake I must apologize for.”

He had to take a hard swallow to continue. It felt so uncomfortable to grovel in front of this child. She finally looked at him, but it was with a suspicious eye.

“The amulet was not meant for casual communication, but I did tell you that if you needed me, I would be available to you. I did not specify that it had to be an emergency, and so therefore you cannot be faulted for attempting to use it when you believed my presence was needed. I do acknowledge that what you went through this summer was very difficult, and I’m sure that you could have used another shoulder to lean on during those times. I’m sorry I wasn’t available to you.”

Her looked changed from suspicious to downright shock. But he pressed on.

“And I am also sorry that I did not do you the courtesy of at least replying to your letter. It was very rude of me, and all I can offer for an explanation is that the end of the summer is always a hurried, chaotic time for me. I let my own manners lapse because of it. So, if you will accept my apology, we could get on with the matter of your detention.”

When she did not reply, he looked to find her gaping at him in astonishment.

“Have you gone completely off your broomstick?” she asked in shock. “You’ve never apologized to me for anything in five years, and you expect me to buy that load of dragon shit now?”

Snape returned a look of equal surprise to her, though he felt anger boiling up quickly behind it.

“Did my grandmother put you up to this? She must have really paid you off well to get that kind of sentiment out of you,” she continued.

“How dare you…” Snape began in a rage. No amount of possible danger would allow for her to talk to him like that. But then he caught the old familiar look of victorious pleasure on her face as she bated him. There was a faint smile forming on her lips and a fire in her eyes. He hadn’t seen this bold, defiant, wickedly cunning side of her since before her father became ill. He had forgotten what enjoyment she seemed to take in the game of antagonizing him. Suddenly it was rather funny that she had seen through his ruse. It was almost like a worthy and respected adversary had returned to challenge him.

He gathered himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at the brash young woman before him, who was still vaguely amused at his attempt at humility. A slight smile touched his own lips, curling them into wry smirk.

“So, you don’t wish to accept my apology for something that you expressed egregious insult over just days ago?” he asked.

Davindra snorted a laugh. “It’s more that I don’t believe it. Why don’t you try telling me what this is really about?”

Snape pursed his lips and thought as he stared down into her penetrating eyes, her inky lashes slowly blinking in an sensual manner he found uncomfortable, yet hard to ignore.

“Three more years I am going to have to deal with you,” he said calmly as he walked closer, coming to stand immediately in front of her. “There is no way out of it. I don’t wish to fight with you. I do wish for our times together to be succinct, productive, and drama-free. No yelling, no pouting, no tantrums, no provoking me just for sport. I don’t have the energy for it.”

They stood almost as closely as they had in the cemetery the day of the funeral. She looked at him with a soft expression that Snape now recognized as a bare flicker of the emotions that coursed deep within her. Her eyes seemed to search his, to travel about his face, settling on his lips as he spoke, then trail back to his unwavering gaze.

“Believe it or not, I do mean the apology I’ve given you. Perhaps it was a bit over-rehearsed, but the message is the same. I wish to put that behind us and begin this year without the trappings of previous transgressions and arguments hanging over us.”

The heat from their bodies seemed to combine to make the normally chilly room suddenly stifling. Snape resisted the urge to throw off his robe and unbutton his high collar. Instead he stood firmly, returning her intense look, all too easily reading the slightly illicit tinge her thoughts had taken with him so close to her. It was requiring all his concentration to remember to breathe calmly and evenly. Her gaze seemed to be pressing into him like a weight, squeezing out disturbing, disjointed images from the Vision Well’s last application.

“Do we have an agreement, Miss Collins?” Snape broke in.

Again her eyes dipped to his mouth and her tongue unconsciously slipped lightly over the corner of her upper lip. A most effective distraction Snape found his own eyes drawn to.

“Yes.”

Her words brought him back from the edge of a very dangerous abyss. Snape nodded at her acquiescence and stepped away, feeling a weightlessness rush over him as he drew out of her hypnotic pull.

“However,” he announced as he spun around and raised a finger before her face, “our time together will be handled with great discretion and propriety. I will not have the rumors of last year resurface, nor will I tolerate any more misguided contrivances from you.”

Davindra seemed to blush slightly in the apples of her cheeks as he spoke, but her strong stare didn’t break. Snape dared one step closer, though still keeping enough distance to not allow for a mixed message to be delivered with his words.

“The lessons and exchanges that happen between us take place behind closed doors only. There will be no ambushing me in hallways or outside the staff lounge. We will keep our interaction to a necessary minimum in class. Though I have agreed to see to your education and safety, I will not risk my career for it.” He made sure his look matched the harsh, serious tone of his words. “Do I make myself clear, Miss Collins?”

Her gaze faltered finally, dipping to his feet as she replied, “Crystal, Professor.”

“Good,” he pronounced smoothly and turned away again. “Now, for your detention. Since you had such disastrous results with your potion this week, I think it would be in your best interest to try again, since it is quite possible that that particular concoction could appear on your O.W.L exams.”

“Will you redo my grade?” Davindra piped in hopefully.

He eyed her reluctantly and considered her request. “I might adjust your grade depending on how well you do this time.”

She smiled with an air of accomplishment at the compromise and set about gathering her supplies.

A peaceful familiarity settled in the room as she began her potion, and Snape focused on work at his desk. Periodically, he would sneak a glance in her direction. The potion seemed to be coming along perfectly this time with no anger and resentment to cloud her thoughts.

Suddenly, he realized that he seemed to no longer consider her presence distracting and unnerving. He felt more calm than he had in some time with her cozily tucked into the corner of his office. There was still a desire to be on guard and vigilant of her conduct toward him, and he certainly had no desire to be close to her because of the suffocating confusion it caused him. But her just being within his sight, so he could occasionally look at her or speak to her, felt right and safe. Yes, at least she was safe.

He cleared his throat to get her attention before he spoke. “Miss Collins, do you know Mr. Malfoy?” He began his quest casually.

“Draco’s father?” she asked as she cleaned her chopping knife. “Well, I don’t know him. I’ve seen him, been introduced to him.”

“Where?”

“Diagon Alley,” she seemed to think for a moment. “Last year, I believe. I ran into them at the bookstore.”

“What did he say to you?” Snape pressed, though still careful to keep any suspicion out of his question.

“I don’t remember,” Davindra replied with an annoyed tone. “It was a while ago. It was probably just, ‘nice to meet you,’ and such. Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” Snape said smoothly. “He seems to remember meeting you, that’s all. Is there anything between you and Draco of a romantic notion?”

Davindra smirked. “You mean the boy who called me names and put me in a mud puddle? We’re friends is all, which I figured you’d approve of since he is in your house. I might find him a little more interesting if I was allowed to have more than two words with him without that Parkinson cow dragging him off like a dog on a chain. I don’t know how he stands her!”

Snape nearly smiled in return. He had noticed that Pansy Parkinson indeed had Draco Malfoy harnessed and broken for some time now.

“Why the sudden interest in me and the Malfoys?” Davindra asked again.

Snape went back to his work. “No reason,” he reiterated with a silky croon to his voice.

There was blissful silence until she left him later that evening with a warm, coy smile and a murmur of, “‘Night, Professor.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Continued

Madame Potion: Chapter Eight

2007-01-14T16:54:37Z

Year Four: Sights Best Unseen

The letter came before Snape had left Hogwarts at the end of the term. He had been pacing his office, nursing a still-smoldering rage about Black’s escape and the now dashed promise of an Order of Merlin from the Minister of Magic.

Harry Potter and his crew had staged it all. Lupin had backed them up. At least Snape had one morsel of cold comfort. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was again open because someone, well, actually, HE had let slip to Cornelius Fudge that Lupin was a werewolf. He had informed Fudge that at that very moment, in fact, the man was running about the Hogwarts grounds, his mind wracked with the ravages of lycanthropy, hungrily hunting for his next victim. Snape knew this because Lupin hadn’t been in his office to take the Wolfsbane Potion Snape had brought him the night of Black’s attack.

He did stop to consider Potter’s story. Peter Pettigrew not dead but living in his Animagus form for all these years. Pettigrew responsible for James and Lily’s deaths, and Black innocent of all charges. It would be one way of explaining Black’s survival in Azkaban all those years. A truly innocent soul could not be broken even by Dementors. Dumbledore believed the story, but Fudge didn’t. Snape felt skeptical of everything.

He had made another round by the shelves of his office, then back to his desk, when he heard a thump at his door. Opening it, he saw an owl at the threshold, shaking itself to clear its head from the impact. A letter was secured to its leg. The writing was familiar and Snape immediately knew what the contents told.

Dear Professor Snape,

I hope this letter finds you. I miss the school, my friends, and you too. I actually missed getting to take final exams even. But anything would have been better than this.

Father died last night, here at home, quite peacefully, considering. We were all there. But it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to see. I’m glad its over, but I haven’t slept since.

There will be a funeral service in three days at St. Agnes Church near our home.

Yours,
Davindra

He decided not to reply. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. He just continued packing and went home to Spinner’s End. Once there, he re-read the letter several times and continued his pacing, but in new scenery.

Eventually, Snape went to his room and began digging in the back of his closet. He pulled out old robes and jackets and tossed them aside until he had created a jumbled, black carpet of clothes on the floor. In the corner of the closet, he found what he was looking for. It had gathered dust and moths for several years, but there wasn’t any question that it was the best choice he had. Putting the old Muggle suit on, Snape surveyed his appearance. It seemed as though he was thinner than in years past. The clothing sat loosely on his frame. There was no hope in gaining weight in two day’s time, especially with his cooking skills, and his knowledge of tailoring spells was scant. Also, the style was a bit out of fashion, but he would simply have to make do.

The day of the funeral came, and Snape set out early for the church. He checked himself in the mirror once more. The black jacket and trousers were now respectably clean and pressed. A plain dark shirt underneath was buttoned to the neck. Snape fidgeted and fussed with himself, feeling uncomfortable and exposed without his long coat and cloak. But if this were to take place in a Muggle church, he would have to fit in. As it was, his long, lank hair and ghostly complexion would get enough notice. And if there was one thing he did not want to do that day, it was draw attention to himself. He at least had confidence in his ability to keep his manner inconspicuous in a crowd. Patting the pocket that held the binding amulet of green beryl, and securing his wand up his sleeve, he set off.

It was a misty, cool morning at the old stone church. Its steeples rose menacingly high in the air casting long shadows over the grounds and nearby cemetery. But the partly cloudy sky gave tepid promise of sun by afternoon. Snape strolled through the cemetery, absent-mindedly reading the names on the weathered tombstones. Some were hundreds of years old and hardly discernable; some were from the time of the Dark Lord’s rein. He wondered if any of them had been unwitting victims. There were many blocks of families, and Snape thought of his own father’s grave and how he had seen it only once, sitting among a few other unfamiliar, long-gone Snape family members. He found himself hoping that when he did finally go, someone would have the good charity to burn his body to ashes and throw them to the wind. The idea of being carefully encased in a wooden box and ceremoniously set into the ground seemed utterly revolting and hedonistic. Besides, he heavily doubted there would be anyone to stand around his corpse weeping and mourning his death.

The distant echo of a car door slamming caught his attention, and Snape looked across the broad lawn to see people beginning to arrive for the ceremony. He continued to stay hidden at the edge of the cemetery furthest from the church, near a wooded area, and surveyed the activity. Car upon car pulled up, and clusters of darkly clad people began to filter into the church. The migration continued for some time. Snape could easily spot the wizards among the Muggles. They were notoriously bad at blending in, and he wondered how gifted people could be so dim. One man arrived wearing a tall black top hat and tails, but with a brightly flowered tie and golf pants. A woman showed up with a paisley housecoat and snow boots.

Near the last to arrive was the Collins family. The luxury cars pulled directly in front of the church, and the driver came around to open the doors. A woman who could be none other than Davindra’s mother was first helped from the backseat. She was small, thin, and fair haired, much like her own mother, Lillyth Sparrow. Davindra emerged next. She was clothed in a straight, black dress, her hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck. She looked stoic and regal as she put her arm about her delicate mother and escorted her toward the church. Not far behind were Demelza Collins and Lillyth herself, both dressed in tasteful yet elegant dark Muggle dresses, fur stoles, hats, shoes, and broaches all matched expertly. Other family members, unknown to Snape, appeared. Some looked like normal Muggles, others had the eclectic tinge of a wizard or witch out of their element.

When the crowds had stopped coming, Snape crept from his hiding place and silently slipped into the church. The service had already begun. A clergyman stood at a tall pulpit speaking in a drab monotone voice. Snape silently slipped in to an empty pew at the very back of the sanctuary. While the service droned on, Snape only half listened to the words being spoken about David Collins. He apparently was well thought of by the community and his friends; he was a successful businessman who did something with developing some part for something else, and he was active in many civic organizations; as well as a loving and devoted father and husband. As the words buzzed about his head, Snape made a game of looking around the church and deciding who was a Muggle and who was a wizard.

‘Muggle, Muggle, Muggle, wizard, wizard, Muggle, Muggle but with very bad taste. It looks like she’s wearing a flowerpot on her head. Muggle, wizard.’

The service ended, and the pipe organ began its mournful recessional. People rose and filed past the casket, stopping to speak words of comfort to the Collins’s. Finally Davindra and her mother got up to exit the building, followed by the other family members. Both women looked red-eyed and shell-shocked. Neither seemed to be looking at anyone in their path, but gazing straight ahead as if fixing every ounce of concentration on leaving as quickly as possible. When they neared the last pew where Snape now stood, Davindra’s eyes snapped straight to him. Snape gave her an expressionless stare. Her mouth opened in surprise, and her watery eyes grew even larger. She slowed momentarily, but then seemed to remember her mother at her arm and continued on.

Snape slipped out of the church and walked back toward the cemetery. If he knew her as well as he thought, then she would escape the clutches of her family and find him. Even now he could feel her eyes on him as he wove his way between the headstones.

“Professor?” Her breathy voice sounded from a few rows behind him.

He turned to see her tentatively walking toward him, her eyes darting back to her gathering family near the cars.

“I didn’t expect you to come. I wasn’t even sure you got the message, since you didn’t respond.”

She was now as tall as he was, though today she was wearing heels. She looked graceful and lean, all in black, her hair drawn back to expose her swan-like neck. The young woman before him was a far advanced form of the coy, impish girl he had spent the past four years battling and struggling with.

Snape labored for what to say. Her expression spoke of great expectation in his appearance.

“I do hope you’ve managed to sleep,” was all he could find to comment on. “I have some very good potions if you find you’re still having trouble.”

She smiled weakly. “No, Grandmother has made sure I’m well supplied. I’ve slept some, thank you.”

The heavy silence was uncomfortable. Snape had no idea he would be so bad at this. He steadied himself behind a cold, stoic demeanor, and she stood bravely, her long, thin arms wrapped around herself. They regarded each other with careful looks.

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Collins.” Snape pushed the words from his mouth. “Your father sounded like an honorable man.”

She smiled sadly. “He was. You would have found him… interesting.”

He nodded slightly in return. “I know this last year was very hard for you, and for the one exception regarding my supply closet,” he raised his eyebrows, “you handled this all very admirably.”

Her smile grew slightly and she snorted, “Am I never to be forgiven for that mistake?”

He said nothing for a moment, and her eyes looked into his to see if he truly still harbored ill feelings.

“You’re forgiven,” he said quietly.

She smiled wider still and wiped at the fresh tears that began at the corner of her eyes. Snape noticed a dark smear on her finger when she drew it away.

“When did you start wearing make-up?” he asked in shock.

Again she snorted a little laugh. “About two years ago, thanks for noticing. Although today isn’t a good for it.”

Again they were plunged into an awkward silence. She shuffled her black, heeled shoes in the damp grass, and he stood unmoving as a statue.

“There’s going to be a lunch, some family members and such, at our house,” she stammered. “Would you like to come? I know they’d like to meet you.”

Snape nearly shuddered with horror at having to socialize with strange Muggles and wizards under such depressed circumstances.

“No, I can’t stay.” Glancing at the group of family gathered to leave the church, Snape saw Madame Collins looking about, most likely in search of Davindra. He had to be quick. “I have something for you.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the narrow slab of green beryl on a long, delicate chain. Wrapped around the crystal was a thin, tightly intertwined braid of their hairs. Snape held the charm up in front of her, and she gazed at it in curious wonder.

“What is it?” she asked as he slipped it over her head.

Silently he spoke the incantation that would activate the crystal’s binding properties as the amulet nestled against her chest.

He had been rehearsing his explanation for the crystal for some time. “This is so you will never have to worry about me being there for you. As long as you wear this, I can find you, if you ever need me.”

She looked from the charm she took in her hand to his face. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to read into the gesture something he didn’t intend or if she saw exactly what he did intend. However, he stood silently impassive, refusing to reveal any more.

Glancing again toward the gathering family members, he uttered, “Best keep it hidden.”

Davindra nodded and quickly dropped the amulet down the front of her dress, squirming so it would situate itself between her breasts. “What will I need to do to use it?”

Snape couldn’t keep his eyebrow from twitching as he replied, “Just concentrate.”

Before he could react, she had thrown her arms around him, her whole body crushed to him in a tight embrace. Her face was pressed into his neck, her breath in his hair. A shaky sigh escaped her, tickling his skin and warming him to the core. For several seconds he stood frozen, unable to respond or move. Still, she didn’t pull away. He could feel her body expanding and contracting as she breathed. He could feel her fingers gripping at his jacket.

Finally, he commanded his arm to move, thinking he could push her away. But instead he found his hand coming to rest against the small of her back. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders with no command from him. Snape remembered the times when one look from her could knock the breath out of his body. That was nothing compared to the intoxicating chaos that filled him now. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering in his chest or the shaking that seemed to come from inside his bones.

A few airless, silent moments passed, as though they were standing inside a vacuum. When her grip began to loosen, Snape self-consciously drew his arms away and held her by the shoulders. Her face was red and damp with tears, more flakes of mascara dotted her cheeks. She sniffed and dabbed a tissue to her eyes. He couldn’t resist gently brushing away the dark flecks with his finger.

They stood very close together, looking into each other’s faces when the sound of approaching feet lifted them out of their private moment. Madame Collins and Lillyth Sparrow had found their hiding spot, and both looked vaguely pleased at having discovered it.

“Severus,” Madame Collins spoke, “how kind of you to pay your respects today.” There was a trace of venom under the sweet greeting.

Snape gave very slight bows to both women as he addressed each one. “I simply wanted to express my deepest sympathies to the entire family. It is a truly tragic loss.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Professor Snape,” Lillyth spoke in a soft, silky tone. “I’m sure Davindra appreciates it more than you could ever know.” She reached out and drew the girl to her, producing a fresh tissue from her pocket, which she tucked into Davindra’s hand.

“We really must be going now, Davi,” Madame Collins stated, eyeing Lillyth. “The cars are waiting. You two run ahead. I just want a moment with our dear Potions master.”

Snape’s stomach turned with dread.

“It was good to see you again, Professor,” Lillyth spoke. “I do hope next time is under more pleasurable circumstances.” Her blue eyes twinkled, and her smile was heated with promise as she turned from him, pulling Davindra behind her.

Davindra allowed herself to be guided away, but her gaze was reluctant to leave him. She left with her hand pressed against her chest where the amulet lay.

When finally alone, Demelza Collins looked up at Snape with amused scrutiny. “What exactly are you doing here?” Her voice was low and a shade darker than before. “Wearing your best Muggle suit even, which I dare say is about ten years past its prime. You look like the undertaker.”

“As though I’d stand out amongst this lot?” Snape asked snidely. “I hadn’t realized that wearing my slippers and robe would help me blend in better.”

Demelza gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, it is amazing how socially limited wizards can be. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to pass along a Littlewoods catalog as reference on how to dress in the Muggle world. All they do is stand in amazement that the pictures don’t move.”

“Speaking of Muggles, Madame Collins, where is your husband?” Snape quizzed.

“Malcolm?” she replied in surprise. “Oh, he’s been gone for years now. I thought you knew.”

“The Collins women don’t appear to have good luck with longevity in their mates, do they?” He couldn’t resist the biting comment, despite its inappropriateness, nor its possible prodding of Demelza’s wrath.

Surprisingly, she again chuckled. “It’s those frail Muggles. I will never allow Davi to marry a Muggle. They are not worth the heartache. Now, back to my question, Severus. What are you really doing here?”

Snape twitched his brow and gave a slight shrug to his shoulders. “Can I not show my reverence for the father of one of my students and the son of a favored Potions teacher?”

“Oh, you could,” she replied. “But I don’t think that’s the reason. Is it Davi you are wishing to impress? Because I suspect you were hoping to avoid me, considering you’re skulking around in a graveyard. Or was it Lillyth perhaps? She told me you two met last summer. She was quite impressed.” Demelza gave a slick smile.

“I resent all of your insinuations,” he returned with a narrowed glare. “Firstly, is Mrs. Sparrow not a married women?”

“Oh, yes, but she and Clive haven’t lived together for ages. They have an understanding.” Her eyes flashed lasciviously. “It works quite well for them both. So you see, she is always on the look out for… new company.”

Though he found the information quite interesting and perhaps valuable for the future, the last thing he wanted to do was display his desires to the woman before him who would no doubt later use them against him.

“Still,” Snape uttered with annoyance, “I do not make a habit of pursuing dalliances that appear so obviously fraught with danger. As for your granddaughter, her frail emotional and physical health over the last year were of great concern to everyone at Hogwarts. I only wished to ease my mind, and those of the faculty, that she is doing as well as could be expected.”

“Oh, now you have concern for her health, you say?” A sharp edge returned to her voice. “When last year she was in the hospital ward due to exhaustion?”

“I think that had much more to do with your demands upon her than mine,” Snape delivered darkly.

“What are you trying to say, Severus? Might as well just spit it out. My Legilimency is not what it once was.”

Snape eyed the surroundings. This was hardly the place he would wish to get into a full-blown battle. There were still several Muggles milling about, and he felt inexplicably vulnerable at that moment.

“I meant no disrespect,” he said biting back a desire to snap at her accusation. “Your granddaughter had implied to me that you had suggested she work extra hard to perhaps distract herself from the issues at home. Not an unrealistic suggestion, but one, I’m afraid, she took to heart.”

“And what do I have you for, Severus, if you do not tend to the issues that I cannot intervene in when she is at your school?” Her eyes flashed a warning.

“I have done my best, Madame,” Snape hissed through clenched teeth. His temper was getting harder to hold. “But as I keep telling you, your offspring is not my only responsibility. I have hundreds of other students to watch, lessons to plan and grade, as well as extra activities to supervise, and any special assignment Dumbledore entrusts to me. I can assure you, I give all the attention that I can spare to your granddaughter while not neglecting the numerous other things that call my attention.”

“I can appreciate your loyalty.” Back was the smooth delivery, the menacing front only slightly lowered. “But I think in time you will see where your effort is best spent and what rewards will be truly valuable in the end.”

Snape gave her a questioning look and read there was a hidden meaning to her words.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said waving her finger at him. “No pilfering though my mind for details that would be none of your business anyway.”

“Madame Collins, I’m sure…” he began to show a well rehearsed wounding.

“I must be going, Severus,” she announced suddenly, straightening the fox fur stole that draped the crook of her arm. “I have an appearance to make at a luncheon.”

Snape again swallowed his anger to calmly say, “Again, my deepest sympathies for the loss of your son.”

“You doubt my grief, do you?” she asked with a note of offense in her voice.

“I would not be so bold.”

“Yes, you would.” Her eyes cut into him like swords. “But perhaps you’re not feeling so brave today is all.”

“Perhaps, Madame’s Legilimency is better than she attests to.”

Again she straightened her stole and looked into him with Davindra’s pale, icy-green eyes. “What will your continued commitment to my granddaughter cost me this year?”

“I would have thought you had something well in plan by now,” Snape replied.

“Could that be what flushed you out of hiding for the summer? You’ve come to expect as much from this arrangement as I have.”

“I’m afraid you are quite mistaken,” he said silkily. “If you told me right now that I was released of my obligation to tutor your granddaughter, I would practically dance with joy.”

Demelza chuckled softly. “As much as I’d like to see that, I won’t be giving you the opportunity just yet. Do not fret, my dear man, I have something that I’m certain will tempt your loyalties my way once again. For now, I have other commitments to tend to. We’ll speak soon, Severus.”

She gave a wry smile as she turned and made her way through the headstones to the waiting car. Snape watched her go, then Apparated back to Spinner’s End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Though he yearned to attempt the Vision Well the moment he arrived home, Snape forced himself to give it more time. He positively twitched with curiosity about how well the enchantment really worked. But he told himself that there was no need to hurry and that there was surely nothing happening in Davindra’s life worth witnessing at the present moment.

He had heard nothing from her nor from Madame Collins for several weeks after the funeral. Snape was left with his solitude, following the games of the Quidditch World Cup over the WWN.

Finally, he had had enough of his own patience, and on a particularly warm, restless night, he gathered the objects together and began the spell to bring the Vision Well to life. The stone bowl was filled with a smoky element that wafted over the slab of green beryl at the bottom. Snape concentrated on the crystal, so like the color of the subject’s eyes, and muttered the magic words over and over until he felt himself pulled away from his surroundings. It was an almost painful sensation, as though his bare skin were being peeled off of a sticky surface with a sudden jerk. But it was, thankfully, quick.

He heard her before he saw her.

“Mum?”

Her voice sounded close, though he could see nothing but a dark fog at first.

“Mum?”

She had crossed in front of him.

“Mum!”

Slowly the fog cleared, and Snape could see a wide, dimly lit, hall and foyer of what he assumed was the Collins family home. She walked past him again. She wore casual Muggle clothes and her hair was loose.

“Mum? Where are you?” Davindra reached for a door that stood open only a crack and peeked inside. “There you are. What are you doing?”

Snape felt himself pulled along with her movements as she walked into the room. It was an office, and behind a large wood desk sat Davindra’s mother, Abigail. Her pretty, fair head was bent over some papers in her hand when she looked up at her daughter.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry. I’ve been in here for just hours,” she sighed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to find some insurance papers. I wish I had thought to do more of these things before your father died. There is so much I don’t have a clue about.”

Her petite form slouched in the chair, the large, masculine furnishings making her appear even more fragile and small.

Davindra picked up a pile of the papers and started flipping through them. “I could help you, you know. You don’t have to do this all on your own.”

“I know,” Abigail said, taking her daughter’s hand. “But you have done so much, far too much in fact. I should be ashamed of how much responsibility I’ve let my teenage daughter shoulder for me through all this.”

“What are you going to do, ask one of your nutty wizard cousins or uncles to take care of this stuff? We hardly talk to the Muggle relatives. So I’m it, really.” Davindra finished with a comforting smile and continued flipping pages.

“Look for anything from a company called Mission Insurance Alliance, whatever that is,” Abigail said as she too returned to the pile of file folders in front of her.

There were several minutes of silent paper shuffling and a few comments from each about things they found. It was mind-numbingly boring to witness, Snape concluded. He began to ready himself to return to his home, deciding he would not hear or see anything of any interest, when Abigail again spoke.

“Oh, Davi, I have kept forgetting to ask you. Who was that man you were talking to in the cemetery the day of the funeral?”

Snape’s ears perked up at his mention, and he found himself attempting to lean closer.

“That was my Potions teacher from Hogwarts,” Davindra said with shy smile.

“Was it?” Abigail exclaimed with enthusiasm. “How thoughtful of him to come. Why didn’t you invite him back to the house? I would have loved to meet him. Uncle Avery would have been very interested in talking with him, I’m sure.”

“I did invite him, but he said he couldn’t stay. He’s not really the social sort,” she said, again giving a smile that only Snape knew the real meaning of.

Abigail made a noise of consideration at the statement. “Did you see the wonderful note from Albus Dumbledore? He’s such a lovely man.”

“Yes, I did see it. He is nice.”

“Have I told you about how badly I wanted to go to Hogwarts when I was a little girl?” she asked with a wistful smile. “But Mother said they wouldn’t take Squibs. I was so brokenhearted over it.”

Davindra laughed. “Granny Lilly did tell me about when you tried to make a shrinking potion for the cat because you wanted a kitten.”

“Oh, it was dreadful! That poor cat.” Abigail laughed along with her daughter.

There was again quiet for a few moments, broken only by the rustle of papers.

“What happened to that fellow from Hogwarts you were dating at the end of last term?” Abigail asked, breaking the silence.

“Roger,” Davindra supplied. “Oh, we stopped seeing each other in the spring. I wasn’t really that interested in him. He was just someone to go to Hogsmeade with and such.”

This was news to Snape. She had chastised him for persecuting Davies with such fervor that he assumed she must be quite attached to the boy. He now felt foolish for allowing himself to become so agitated by a few frivolous dates.

“I thought you really liked him. He was captain of the Quidditch team, wasn’t he?” Abigail asked. “That sounds pretty exciting.”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy, I just wasn’t very interested in anything serious.” Davindra kept shuffling through the papers, avoiding her mother’s stare.

“Have you heard from many of your Hogwarts friends?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“I haven’t been able to keep track with all the different owls going in and out of here,” Abigail sighed. “The neighbors are probably thinking we’re running an exotic bird farm.”

Davindra laughed softly.

“I’m sorry, Davi,” Abigail said as she looked at her daughter apologetically. “We just haven’t had time to talk and get caught up on things. I feel like I’ve missed so much this last year. I feel like you got pushed aside, and that’s not right. I mean, I didn’t even come see you when you were in hospital at school!”

“Mum, don’t worry about it,” Davindra soothed with a warm smile. “We’ve had other things going on. I never felt slighted or ignored. Dad needed you the most. And we’ve got all summer to get caught up and spend time together. In fact, if you don’t want me to leave in the fall, I don’t have to.”

Even Snape could read that she said that statement with hope that it would be rejected.

Abigail smiled and again took Davindra’s hands. “No, come September, you march yourself right back to Hogwarts and start living your wonderful, adventurous life again. Besides, I couldn’t take Demelza’s wrath if you didn’t go.”

They both giggled at what Snape knew was an all too real estimate of Madame Collins’s reaction to any thwarting of her plans for Davindra.

“Have you eaten?” Abigail asked.

“No, not yet.”

“There is still so much food left. And people keep bringing it. Like they think we’ve lost our minds in regards to how to use the kitchen. Let’s go have something. I’m so sick of looking at papers and getting paper cuts, I could scream.” She tossed the papers on the desk and got up to put her arm around her daughter and both walked from the office.

Snape felt himself pulled behind them, but didn’t feel the need to watch them eat. He commanded himself out of the vision and again felt the sharp sting to his skin before he returned to his dim and dismal living quarters.

There was no doubt that the Vision Well worked perfectly. Snape could feel great satisfaction with that, but also he had a strange empty sensation inside. Seeing the interaction between mother and daughter wasn’t as altogether dull as he had assumed. However, it did remind him of things he had forced from his mind many years ago and had not visited since. His own home life had been barely a sliver of the life Davindra led.

When he was a boy, there had never been the ease of conversation like he had just seen. There were either screams or whispers uttered in the Snape home. There was never honest discussion and open displays of emotion. There were only guarded, carefully constructed statements and frantic efforts to predict when Tobias Snape’s temper would break into a roaring rage. His own mother had little to offer him in the way of comfort or protection when she herself was horribly terrorized and abused.

Snape looked around the familiar walls, wondering if they had soaked up all the trauma and horror that had happened inside them for so many years, like a malevolent sponge. For now, there was only empty peace and silence. But at any moment, could the house release the dark contents it had been hoarding in its porous, decrepit frame and drown him with memories?

He needed air. He needed to be away from there so he could breathe freely, if only for a little while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Vision Well could have proven to be a very addictive distraction. Every day, Snape eyed it and wondered if it was worth delving into. Mostly, he had just come into conversations between Davindra and her mother talking about friends, or her father, or sometimes just watching television together, or eating in silence. Sometimes he found Davindra alone reading or walking the grounds near her home. Once he had found her sleeping on her bed. It was late on a hot day, and she had fallen asleep reading a book on enchantments for everyday objects. He had stood and simply watched her for some time.

Several times he had not been able to make the Vision Well work. He would come through it only to be kept in dismal fog that would not clear. He speculated that it was during these times that Davindra was not wearing the amulet. At first he cursed her for not always having it on her, as he had asked. But one day he made a second attempt to reach her after the first failed, only to find her in the finishing stages of dressing after a shower. Her hair was still damp, and she was just tucking the amulet down the front of her shirt as the vision appeared to him.

Snape found himself suddenly thankful that Davindra had been astute enough to not wear the amulet during bathing or other intimate moments. Finding himself dropped into such a startling situation would be more than he would ever want to be burdened with. Even though he knew his spying was in itself iniquitous, he knew he’d forever hate himself for being witness to things that would only drive him mad to bear witness to.

He found it harder and harder to resist the temptation of the Well. There was a certain time of night when he felt himself especially drawn to it. Normally, at that time, Davindra could be found preparing herself for bed. It was late and the house around her would be quiet and dark. Sometimes she would be sitting at the window looking out into the black night. Other times she might be in bed with an open book, but staring up into nothingness. This night she sat at her dressing table, toying with the amulet that hung around her neck. A dim bedside table lamp cast dusky shadows about the room.

She held the crystal up close to her eyes and appeared to be trying to see into its depths. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she dropped it to let it hang around her neck, dangling against the front of the sleeveless summer nightgown she wore.

Davindra seemed agitated and restless. She sat at the table mindlessly fingering pieces of jewelry or opening and closing trinket boxes. Next, she spent time brushing her hair then braiding it, then letting it lose, then putting it into a knot, again shaking it down. Finally, Davindra left the table to sit on the edge of the bed. Again, she sighed and took the amulet in hand.

Snape wondered if she were attempting to reach him, as he had told her she could do by simply concentrating. He almost felt guilty about the promise of communication he had given her. He hadn’t figured what would happen if she really did try to reach him. He had only assumed that the idea of the charm would give her comfort and that he would keep a close enough eye on her to know if his assistance was needed.

If she only knew how close he already was. How would she feel knowing he was standing in the corner of her room, watching her intently, cataloging her every movement? She might feel angry and intruded upon. She might be flattered and happy to have him so close, though she couldn’t see or feel him. Snape thought back to the emotions he had read from inside her mind. She hadn’t protested him climbing into her brain and viewing her most secret thoughts. As far as Snape was concerned, she had all but offered herself for disclosure.

He continued to watch her, wishing he could use Legilimency while in the Well. She seemed to be thinking most fiercely.

Davindra dropped the amulet and closed her eyes, as though giving herself over to the lateness of the night and the chaos in her head. Again she sighed, a slow, breathy moan. She tucked her hands between her thighs and appeared to stretch. Another sigh.

Drawing her legs up, she climbed into the covers of her bed and lay still for a moment. Snape was reminded of when he had seen her lying in the Great Hall under the enchanted sky. He felt the familiar urge to reach out and smooth her hair and brush his lips against her sleepy eyes.

There were several moments of rustling and squirming, more sighing and moans. Suddenly Snape felt an icy sensation in the pit of his stomach. The mounds of covers, which were Davindra’s knees, were splayed apart, and her hands had disappeared underneath. Closing his eyes, Snape silently screamed the words that brought him safely to his home. As he was pulled away from the horrific scene, his ears picked up the last of her soft, quickening moans.

Snape was left standing breathless and shaking in his silent, bleak room. Staggering away from the Vision Well, his quivering legs found a chair he was able to collapse in. He sat head in hands, fingers clawing at his oily hair, trying to steady his breath. Despite the sickening feeling that was still washing over him, Snape felt the unmistakable tingling and tightening of his groin. Instinctively his hand squeezed the hardening bulge when he remembered himself and what had inspired the illicit lust. Pulling his hand away, he felt the overpowering urge to wash it with very hot water and Bark Acid soap.

Pressing both his hands to his temples, Snape attempted to squeeze out the memory of what he had just seen and heard. If he had any sense at all, he told himself, he would destroy the Vision Well immediately. He had been narrowly avoiding something of this licentious nature for weeks. It was his own greedy, meddlesome fault.

He pressed harder, wanting to expunge the last sounds he had heard. The sounds he would spend a lifetime wishing to forget. The faint, urgent, begging sound of her whispering his name. “Severus… Severus… ”

Madame Potion: Chapter Seven

2006-12-30T01:21:14Z

Year Four: Ignorance’s Bliss

The masses returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break to find their Potions teacher hollow-eyed and anxious from lack of sleep. His temper raged higher than normal at erratic intervals, and even fellow staff found themselves stepping a wide path around Severus Snape. The advancing effects of overuse of the sleeping potions and the stimulant serum fueled waves of dizziness and tremors, which he found he had trouble disguising. A discrete inquiry about a detoxifier from Madam Pomfrey kept him from looking like a full-blown potion junkie coming down from a binge. Most, including Dumbledore, were too busy with plans for the new semester and worries about Sirius Black to pay any attention to Snape’s physical condition. He hid his exceptionally pallid appearance and angry anxiety best by keeping to his office and chambers until it was time for classes to resume.

Exacerbating his ill temperament was the fact that Davindra did not come back to school after the break. A strange concoction of relief and disappointment filled him as he read the short memorandum from Flitwick, which stated that Davindra’s family had asked that she remain behind to spend extra time with her ever-ailing father. Snape’s paranoia, fed by sleep deprivation and exhaustion, caused him to question why he wasn’t owled personally. However, he soothed himself with the reminder that after the horrifying, graphic visions brought on by the “calming” draught, not seeing Davindra would be a blessing. He couldn’t imagine how he would handle her searing stares and double-edged comments now.

Twice Snape sat down to write to Madame Collins to ask when Davindra might be expected back at school. But fearing that his inquiry would be taken as interfering, callous, and perhaps, read as something more than he intended, he destroyed each unfinished note. He had no right to ask anything of her life outside of Hogwarts. It was a realization that sat uncomfortably in the back of Snape’s mind to itch and burn like a Stinging Hex.

It seemed that the traditional rigors of life at Hogwarts soon had Snape back to normal for the most part. He filled his head with the worries and duties of teaching and running Slytherin House as well as needling his least favorite students at every turn. Lupin stayed out of his path except when he needed Wolfsbane Potion, and then there was a tight, measured congeniality between them. Snape simply refused to give his mind over to thoughts of Davindra or the images planted by the illicit calming draught.

Instead, his only indulgence was to envision capturing Sirius Black single handedly and inflicting his own retribution before handing him over to the Dementors. Snape liked to imagine him starving and filthy, hiding like an animal, and cowering like a little girl. But he knew, despite all his loathing for Black, that he was too smart and tricky to be existing that desperately. Every bone in Snape’s body told him that Black was doing quite well due in great thanks to Lupin’s assistance. And if there was any way to take them both down, Snape would gleefully hand the pair over to the Dementors personally.

Just as Snape was finally beginning to feel back to his old self, he walked into his fourth-year Potions class to find Davindra back in her usual spot, sitting with her usual placid composure, though tired, dark circles ringed her pale eyes. He stopped briefly at the front of the room and surveyed her countenance to surmise what situation had occurred at home to allow her return. Her vague smile gave nothing away.

“It appears Miss Collins has again joined us,” he spoke quietly. “Let us hope she can easily catch up with the rest of the class.”

Davindra twitched her eyebrow at his challenge. Pulling his gaze away, Snape did not allow her to garner his attention for the rest of the class time.

With a lengthy essay assigned for homework and a pile of abysmal potion samples on his desk, Snape watched the group leave. Only then did he let his stare set upon Davindra. On cue she returned his look and slowed her preparation to leave so that she was soon the only student left in the dungeon.

Taking her bag onto her shoulder, she slowly walked up to the desk, which Snape sat securely behind, her eyes never leaving him. Only the table separated them as they surveyed each other.

“Well?” he asked coolly.

She seemed to know exactly what his one word asked of her. “It was touch and go for a while at Christmas. He rallied after the new year. Was actually up and about walking when I left.” A sad resignation passed over her face. “But I don’t know that that will happen again the next time.”

Snape nodded thoughtfully, unsure of what to say in reply. He found himself going in the safest direction he knew: the way of guarded hostility.

“Would it have been too much to ask that your grandmother at least send an owl to keep me apprised of the situation rather than forcing me to pry Professor Flitwick for your whereabouts? I have enough trouble trying to fit your tutoring into all that has to be done. Making plans for lessons that don’t take place wastes my time.” Snape couldn’t ignore the look of shocked insult Davindra wore at his words.

He sighed exasperatedly at his own lack of grace in dealing with emotional issues. “I don’t wish to imply that your father’s health is of lesser importance than your education right now,” he uttered hurriedly. “And I am greatly relieved to hear that he is in a revitalized state for the time being. My issue is with your grandmother and her inconsistencies. She hounds and demands and bribes for favors only then to go silent at the most frustrating moments!”

Snape stopped his rant, suddenly fearing he had spoken too much. By the look in Davindra’s eyes, it was too late. A devilish smile crept up to drive away her former hurt look.

“Why, Professor,” she softly teased, “did you miss me?”

“Like a festering pustule.” Snape tossed her a waspish glare. “I would simply appreciate some respect for my time, which is more rare and valuable than either of you two realize.”

“Actually,” her voice was now lined with modesty, “I had asked if I could write to you myself, but Grandmother told me she would take care of it. I’m guessing that didn’t happen then?”

Snape gave her a dramatic look of mock surprise wrapped in disgust. “Shocking, isn’t it, that your grandmother could be deceitful?”

Davindra shrugged her shoulders. “It was hectic; maybe she just forgot.”

“I’m sure that’s it.” He oozed sarcasm.

“Professor?” she began hopefully. “I don’t suppose you had a chance to look into the thing we talked about before Christmas break?”

Snape gave her a blank look and silence.

“Something for my dad? You said you’d see if you could find anything that might help him.”

All he could think of was the horrible night he endured after he took the medical book down from the shelf. He remembered nothing of what he read before he lost consciousness and had not touched it since.

“I am sorry, but I found nothing that could be of any use,” he finally said, attempting to overshadow his discomfort with staged humility.

Davindra nodded with a sad, forgiving smile. “Okay,” she replied softly. No longer wanting to hold his gaze, she fidgeted nervously for a moment. “Well, I’m going to be late for Charms.”

Snape spoke before she had turned to go. “Miss Collins, do you remember the calming draught you did at the beginning of the year?”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall anything… strange about its creation? You followed the directions exactly?” He stared into her, searching for any sign of deceit.

“Yes, yes, I followed the directions just as they were written,” she insisted. “And the only thing that I noticed as strange were all the half steps. ‘Stir five and a half times counter clockwise. A high boil for seventeen and a half minutes.’ It was hard to keep accurate. And also…” She paused, her eyes rolling about the room as she thought

“What?” Snape demanded.

“I thought cowbane an odd thing to add to a calming draught. Even just the few grains it called for. It’s hemlock, right?”

“They are of the same family. If you remembered second-year Potions, you would know this,” he said with an accusatory raise of his eyebrow. “The wrong dose is deadly, but hemlock can be used as a sedative. You’re certain you used exactly the correct amount?”

Again, she shrugged. “I was sure.” Davindra suddenly looked at him with more interest. “Did someone try it? Did you? What did it do?”

Snape stared back, his black eyes narrowed in guarded scrutiny. He wasn’t about to tell her of the brutal night he spent reliving the worst moments of his life and experiencing new ones, in which she took center stage.

“You’re late for Charms, Miss Collins,” he reminded.

She gave him a quizzical smile, then slowly turned to stroll from the dungeon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That evening, Snape opened Tom Riddle’s spell book to review the calming draught and its ingredients. An analysis of the finished potion showed that Davindra had indeed correctly constructed it. Her dose of cowbane was off by barely one tenth of a grain. Of course, if she had truly miscalculated, the potion would have killed while he dreamed.

While pondering the intricacies of the elixir, Snape flipped through the heavily scribbled pages. He was reminded of his own books, in which he always wrote notes, annotations, and improvements when he saw the need. Yet another thing Snape had in common with the Dark Lord, though Riddle had decided he had talent enough to create his own text with no need for someone else’s bases. Snape also had often thought his own creations far superior to any he learned from ancient, school approved tomes.

At the end of the book, he came to the lose parchment that held the spell for the Vision Well. He considered the complex steps and hard to find items needed to create the Pensieve-like spyglass. If only he had one, he would not have needed wonder for one second what was happening with Davindra. It wasn’t the first time this thought had run through his head. Deep inside he came to the realization that the spell was meant for her all along.

Snape soon began the gathering of objects and supplies needed for the Vision Well. A trip into Hogsmeade was necessary to procure several items. The first part of the project required a binding amulet be created to link the seer and his subject. It took nearly two weeks for Snape to gather enough stray strands of Davindra’s hair from her robes to weave with his own, which were to later be wrapped around a narrow crystal slab of beryl. A twin crystal would rest in the Vision Well itself to conduct the energies between the two of them.

She seemed anxious to delve back into their tutoring session. But Snape didn’t want her doing too much nosing about his office in fear that she might stumble upon some of his preparation for the Well. He kept her occupied, instead, with assigned readings, reports, and cataloging supplies. It was nothing more than busy work that accomplished little other than keep her out of his way but under his supervision. Davindra didn’t complain about the meaningless tasks and seemed happy to simply stay active.

Snape again had the feeling that his office was being searched. And now the suspicion also went to his private chambers, which had the unmistakable impression of a stranger’s presence, when he walked into it in the evenings. It drove him to near madness to try to think of what someone could be looking for and what they might have touched or taken. Davindra would surely not be stupid enough to again attempt to steal from him when she was barely out of detention for her previous transgression. And another Alarmist Crystal and tougher protection spells seemed to do nothing to dissuade the intruder.

He decided it was time to inform Dumbledore. However, the Headmaster seemed less than disturbed that someone had brazenly broken into Snape’s sanctuary and suggested he recruit Filch to keep an eye on things. The exchange left him feeling angry and insignificant. However, Filch seemed thrilled to be given a job that might promise a grand and miserable punishment for whomever he caught.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the midst of a deep, potion induced sleep, Snape almost didn’t hear the Headmaster’s call to arms for the staff. Luckily, he had fallen asleep fully clothed in his armchair and only had to splash icy water on his face to bring himself into full, clear consciousness. As he hurried toward the excitement in the Gryffindor Tower, Snape knew exactly what had caused all the distress. Sirius Black was back prowling the halls of Hogwarts, looking for something undoubtedly so important to him that he was willing to risk his life and hard-won freedom for it.

Again the mongrel bastard managed to slip away. Another entire night spent sweeping the castle from top to bottom produced nothing. Snape was about to personally question Lupin about his activities for the evening when Dumbledore intervened and directed him to see to his students in Slytherin. All he could do was send the tired and battered looking professor a blistering look of contempt and an unspoken promise of reprisal when the Headmaster wasn’t so close by for protection.

The coming days saw higher security measures put into place. Everyone was asked to contribute in some way. Snape’s first suggestion would have been to fire Lupin, if anyone would have listened. Instead, he was asked to help seal windows and doors with more resistant Impenetrable Charms.

He was waving his wand over one of the high, arched windows when Filch came running up to him in his floppy, gangly way and said in a dramatic stage whisper that he had just seen someone coming out of Snape’s office. Filch said he would have stopped the person in their tracks and dragged them to the dungeon except that he didn’t feel he could take those kinds of liberties with a teacher.

“Who was it?” Snape demanded firmly.

“Professor Lupin, sir.”

“Lupin?” he spat with rage. Just as he was about to feel himself fly into a stark raving fit, suddenly several seemingly irrelevant pieces of the puzzle fell neatly into place.

“Of course,” he said with a wicked, twisted smile. “Lupin.”

Storming into his office, Snape retrieved Tom Riddle’s spell book from its hiding spot inside the bottom of his bookshelf and made his way to the classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He entered without knocking and found Remus Lupin cleaning up an empty cage.

“Come to search my office for Sirius Black, have you, Severus?” he spoke cheerily.

“Not quite,” Snape returned smoothly. “Actually, I believe I have something you’ve been looking for.”

Lupin turned to survey him with amused curiosity. But when he saw the battered book Snape held in his hand, his face fell into a somber mask.

“Oh, is this not what you were ransacking my office and chambers in search of?” Snape asked with a placid lilt.

“How long have you known about it?” Lupin asked.

“Actually, it’s a fairly recent acquisition. A gift, you might say, for helping out an old friend.”

The two men stood staring into each other with calm, calculated malice when Lupin finally nodded with a slight smile.

“Ah, Madame Collins, I’m betting,” he said with a wink and a shake of his finger. “I knew she wouldn’t destroy it, and I just knew it had to be here somewhere. So, tell me, does this have anything to do with her granddaughter who I see trailing at your side all the time with wide, love-sick eyes? She’s a devilishly clever girl, but her taste in men is rubbish if not downright illicit.”

Snape kept his rising anger in check. “Spent so much time in the gutter sniffing for scraps that you can’t seem to think outside of it, Professor?” His lip curled with his snide words. “But you are half right. Madame Collins did present this book to me, and also a most interesting story about how she came upon it. Do tell me though, why, after more than twenty years, you would still be pining away for an old spell book? Sentimental reminder of your old chum, Potter?”

Lupin stood with his arms crossed, staring at Snape from under a furrowed brow, though a cynical smile sat crookedly upon his face. “I’m sure you are now quite familiar with that book and know exactly why I might be interested it. For the very reason standing before me: so you wouldn’t find it.”

“Too late,” Snape quipped with raised eyebrows.

“So, how long before that book finds its way back to its insidious author?”

“I sincerely doubt that Madame Collins would entrust me with this book if she believed I had plans to continue its evil foray.”

“Either she doesn’t know you very well, or you are both, as I always suspected, sitting on the same side.”

It was obvious that Lupin was beginning to lose his temperate composure. He flicked his wand with a jerk, and the cage he had just been cleaning floated to a hook in the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t it reason that what you really wish is to have the book so you and Black can continue your own dark work?” Snape challenged.

Lupin pocketed his wand but didn’t remove his hand from his robe as he glared into his nemesis with bored disdain.

“For the last fucking time, I am not helping Sirius Black get into Hogwarts, kill Harry Potter, nor assist in Voldemort’s return to power,” he snapped angrily.

The Dark Lord’s name caused Snape’s nerves to twitch, and he was about to chastise Lupin for speaking it when he thought better of showing his weakness.

“Neither am I,” he hissed in response. “And I would thank you to remember that next time you want to get out a hanky and have a good cry over your long lost friends.”

“Then give me the book.” There was a cold resolve in Lupin’s eyes as he spoke the words firmly. “I AM the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I should be the one to guard it.”

Snape gave a dry chuckle. “You can call yourself whatever you like, but that doesn’t mean doxy shit as far as I’m concerned. It was given to me. It will remain with me. Don’t even try to find it because you won’t. And if I ever discover that you’ve been in my office or chambers again,” Snape flipped open the book to a random page, “then you will see a bit of Black Tongue might find its way into your next batch of Wolfsbane Potion. It could be hard to howl with your tongue rotting inside your mouth.”

Lupin didn’t back down from his stance nor release the wand in his pocket, but his half smile returned. “I’d be careful with threats, if I were you, Severus. You’re not keeping quite to the straight and narrow yourself. It could be very damaging to your career if it were ever exposed that you had any sort of improper relationship with a certain attractive and attentive young student of yours.”

Instantly, Snape had his wand out and pointed at Lupin’s face only to have the motion mirrored back at him. Both men stood with wands raised in hands as steady as stone, though both seemed to quake with rage. For a moment they stood on guard, silently daring the other to strike first.

Finally, Snape spoke in a low, cutting voice. “If you ever attempt to blackmail me with such a contemptible, disgusting lie, I will have your hide nailed to my door. I’ll do it with my bare hands and revel in the feel of your blood between my fingers.”

He snapped his wand away and stormed from the classroom, his robes billowing about him like a cloud of black dust. And though he always liked to make certain he had the last word of any argument, he distinctly heard Lupin’s voice drift out the door after him. “And they call me an animal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anger and curiosity mingled through Snape’s brain for the next few days as he contemplated the situations around him. So, Lupin wanted Riddle’s book. And Black was after something equally important in Hogwarts. If there wasn’t a connection, Snape would kiss a Dementor himself.

The day of the Hogsmeade trip found Davindra happily bundling herself against the damp, chilled air, and chatting amongst a group of fellow Ravenclaws. It was her first outing since the end of her detention after stealing from Snape’s supply closet. He watched from afar as she seemed to shake the dreary sadness of her father’s illness for a temporary time. In fact, she had appeared to have focused her attention on the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Roger Davies. They stood together on the fringes of the crowd laughing and talking, him occasionally giving a playful tug to the end of the scarf around her neck.

Snape felt his stomach do an uneasy turn as he took in the scene. When the groups began to move out, Davindra seemed to feel him observing from the shadows. She turned to look in his direction and, though perhaps not clearly seeing him in the dark confines of his lookout, sensed enough to give a satisfied, flirtatious smile before she returned her charms to Davies and exited the building.

Snape stalked back toward his office wondering what she had meant by that little display. Was she purposefully antagonizing him? The last scene of the calming draught’s disturbing images came at him again. As his mind tried to work its way free of the uncomfortable scenario, Snape found himself upon Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, his two favorite subjects to terrorize. Longbottom being the most responsive, and Potter being the most satisfying to browbeat. Though he was becoming harder to crack as he grew older and regrettably more like his father.

After Snape chased them on their way, he retreated to his office to continue his work on the Vision Well, in hopes it would be done before the end of the year. By the end of the afternoon, Snape had been disturbed by a panting, near hysterical Draco Malfoy with a most unusual story involving “Hero” Potter. Snape caught him where he had last seen him and was in near rapture at the idea of finally having Potter expelled. The boy’s insolence, but most especially, the “trick” parchment would have been the final nail in the coffin. There was a familiar stench of the past to that old piece of paper, and Snape called in Lupin to verify it. Unfortunately, the werewolf would have been the only one to reveal its secrets, and he would never give up anything on his old band of associates. The three of them stood there playing dumb, waiting for the other to let something slip until Lupin cleverly swept Potter, the parchment, and any proof of illegal activities out of Snape’s office with a flimsy story and an air of mocking. When again alone, Snape seethed silently. ‘But no matter,’ he thought, ‘soon enough Lupin will get his.’

More annoyance came with Slytherin losing the Quidditch Cup. Snape let the team and the entire house all know how repulsed he was to have to bow before Professor McGonagall and relinquish the cup. They had played an abysmal and sloppy game. The Slytherin common room was a more silent, gloomy place than ever before with the atmosphere of depression and shame hanging over it. Snape found that it fitted his mood quite appropriately. The silent contemplation was punctuated by the loud celebration coming from the Gryffindor Tower.

Nearing the end of the term, Snape continued to work feverishly to complete the Vision Well, though many other duties called to him. Davindra had persevered through the weeks and months by staying busy and active, though he could tell that she kept on constant alert for the moment an owl would swoop down with bad news, or when she would be summoned to the Headmaster’s office to receive her orders to go home. Snape still assigned the tedious jobs and minor reports in lieu of her extra studies. Their time together was minimal, and he began to wonder if she was happy to not have to spend two nights every week confined in a dungeon with him.

Shockingly, there were moments when Snape would be working alone and find something of interest he knew she would appreciate and feel a pang of disappointment that she wasn’t there for him to comment to. She would have found the construction of the Vision Well fascinating, and Snape almost regretted that he couldn’t share its creation with her.

Recently he had also kept a sharp eye out for Roger Davies and his attentions toward Davindra. Though they were never caught doing anything more than talking or exchanging a few secretive smiles, Snape’s suspicious imagination had him feeling near panic at the idea of them together. He made sure to ride Davies extra hard in Potions and assign as much homework as he could think up in order to ensure that the boy’s nights were taken up with work instead of pleasure.

On a late spring evening Davindra appeared at Snape’s office door to hand in her most recent report. He instructed her to drop it on his desk and that he would talk to her later because he had to finish grading sixth-year essays. However, she didn’t move. Snape’s eyes slowly roamed up from his work to her form leaning over him with a look of serious contemplation.

“Why are you suddenly being so hard on Roger Davies?” she demanded. “He’s not a bad student. And it’s not like he’s Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom.”

Glaring at her insolence, Snape tossed his quill aside. “How dare you speak to me this way,” he began in a slow, dark voice. “What I do or who I do it to is of no business to you. That goes for Davies, Potter, or anyone else you would care to name.”

Davindra stood erect with her arms crossed and no trace of fear anywhere on her face. Her pale eyes looked into him and challenged his conviction.

“Is it because I like him?” she asked as though she hadn’t heard a word of his admonishment. “We were a bit of a steady item. Is that not allowed? Do you and my grandmother have some deal made where you are supposed to keep me from having any romance in my life?” Now she was the one to spout an irate tone.

Snape started to rage back when a she interrupted him with a malicious smile and cool words. “Or are you just jealous?”

He was on his feet, his face inches from hers. When he spoke, it was with teeth clenched to keep from screaming. “I don’t know what kind of a delusional fantasies that twisted mind of yours creates regarding our relationship, but that question is so egregiously revolting and offensive that I won’t even bother addressing it.”

Snape’s heart was racing, and he felt his body shiver with an icy sweat. He gripped the desk to keep from visibly shaking as he glared at the girl before him who now looked back with only vague traces of worry in her normally placid eyes.

“How dare you even suggest…” His mind was at a loss at how to convince her with total certainty that her speculations were groundless. Especially when others had noticed it too. Lupin had basically accused him of having an affair with her, and Flitwick kept eyeing him like he was lecherous pervert.

He felt nauseous, and his head swam as he tried to think of what to say to banish all suspicions from her mind as well as his own. Finally he had to sit down, pressing his head between his hands.

“Professor?” she spoke gently, and Snape could feel her hand reach out to him.

“Get away from me!” he shrieked hoarsely. “Get out of my office! And stay away.”

“Professor, sir…” she again stammered, her face flush with embarrassment and shock. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“OUT!” he screamed.

Davindra’s eyes welled, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to hold in the sob that escaped as soon she ran through the door and up the dungeon stairs.

Snape sat gasping with panic and horror. Scrambling from his chair, he went to the shelves that held his stock of potions. He took a long swig of a calming draught, making sure it was a real one this time. Then he rummaged until he found an open bottle of Mock-Thistle Wine. The liquids converged in his system to give him a dreamy, watery feeling. Finally his breathing slowed, and his heart ceased hammering in his chest.

‘It has to stop,’ he told himself.

Snape went to the cabinet that held the near completed Vision Well. Taking out his wand, he started to destroy the shallow bowl, crystals, and paraphernalia he had worked on for months. The words sat in his mouth, but he was unable to speak them. His mind wouldn’t command them. He couldn’t do it. His arms sagged weakly at his sides in defeat. Instead, he closed the doors and locked them soundly with the hope that he would soon forget the incantation that might set them free to do his bidding.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Avoiding her was hard, even in a school the size of Hogwarts. But Snape knew for his sanity, his career, and his reputation, it had to be done. If they passed each other in the hall, he didn’t so much as glance at her, though her eyes followed him, begging for recognition. In class he never addressed her. He ignored the fact she was even there. And she must have suspected better than to draw attention to herself in his presence, for she walked carefully around him, hardly uttering a word.

Though she might have been out of his sight, she remained firmly implanted in his mind. The more he plied himself with potions or drink, or buried himself in tasks or other pursuits, the more stubbornly she remained. Snape knew he had to be satisfied with at least knowing he appeared above reproach, even if his mind was far, far below it.

He had almost made it to the end of the term with nothing more than a few terse words exchanged in full view of the fourth-year Potions class. Snape had firmly decided that he would tell Madame Collins that next year, under no circumstances, under no threats or bribes, would he spend one extra second with Davindra. Her extra tutoring would have to be bartered elsewhere.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been too perfect. Snape should have known; he never got that lucky. Catching Black with Lupin, Harry Potter, and the merry band of misfits, all in cooperation together at the Shrieking Shack, was too good to be true, he told himself later. One moment he was about to wrangle Black out to the Dementors, and then the next thing he knew, he was waking up outside the Whomping Willow with a painful, bleeding knot on his head. A vague memory of Potter pointing his wand and shouting Expelliarmus came drifting back to him.

Only an unconscious Weasley was left on the ground and no one else to explain what had happened or how he had gotten there. Noises from the direction of the lake caught his attention and he investigated. When Snape had reached the lakeshore, Potter, Granger, and Black lay unconscious. Still confused about the scenario, Snape managed to get everyone safely back to the school and up to the hospital ward. He was met almost immediately by a seriously concerned Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey also came bustling up to him to heal the still bleeding knot on his head, but he held her off, saying the others needed her help more and that Black should be seen to then quickly taken prisoner. To add to the pandemonium, Fudge appeared to demand an explanation.

What Snape remembered of the truth would make him look witless and pathetic. He was bested by third-year students, and only one of them clever enough to pour piss out of a cauldron. How Potter managed to conjure such a powerful spell, Snape wasn’t sure. Perhaps two of them attacked him at once.

But he knew he couldn’t tell Dumbledore and Fudge that. Instead he gave them a mostly true story that included the students being put under a Confundus Charm while trying to capture Black themselves. That story would actually save their hides from trouble with the Ministry, though they would undoubtedly not see it that way. However, he would make sure they would not be spared from punishment for attacking a teacher and consorting with criminals.

He pushed his way free of the questioning crowd and said he would deal with his own wounds and only needed a few moments alone to compose himself, then he would be happy to speak to the Minister and escort Black to the Dementors personally. Reluctantly, they let him leave on a promise of his quick return. Mostly, he was interested in a few moments of silence and in getting a few swigs of his own brewed calming draught and Mock-Thistle Wine inside him before he tried to mentally sort the events of the night. As he made his way from the hospital ward, he found his head was beginning to swim, and he was walking with a slightly drunken gait. The blow he had taken must have been more powerful than he’d realized. He cursed Harry Potter venomously under his breath.

Halfway to his chambers he heard quick footsteps only seconds before Davindra rounded a corner running up to him so fast she collided with him and had to grab on to his robes to keep from bowling them both over.

“What happened?” she demanded in a panicked voice, her eyes fixating on the fresh blood on his forehead. “Someone said they saw you brought into the hospital ward. Someone said you were attacked trying to apprehend Sirius Black.”

The rumor mill had already started. Snape pried her hands free of his garments and quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen her dramatic display. The hall behind and in front of them remained empty.

“There is no reason to be alarmed. Everything is fine,” he said tightly as he still kept a wary eye out for anyone who might witness their meeting while also avoiding her imploring look.

He tried to move on, but she again grabbed his robe. “You’re bleeding! Why aren’t you in the hospital wing? I can heal you.”

Again he shook free, giving her an irritated glare. “I am fine, and I wouldn’t let you aim your wand at me for fear you’d hex me into a coma. Now go back to your tower, and stop bothering me! I don’t have time to deal with your hysterics just now.”

He spun around to stride away from her, but the quick movement jostled his temporarily damaged equilibrium, and he stumbled into the wall.

Davindra grabbed his arm with a surprisingly firm grip and hissed, “Will you stop being proud and let someone help you!”

Taking another look around for signs of judgmental eyes, he steadied himself against the wall momentarily. “Miss Collins, it is detrimental not only to my health, but my reputation, and most importantly, my career to be seen in your company,” he snapped angrily, his head beginning to throb with pain. “I have had to endure the humiliation of fellow staff assuming there is something lascivious going on between us. And worse is that you seem to want to believe it also. I cannot risk my livelihood and everything I have worked for and sacrificed because of an absurd crush.”

He pressed his hand to the lump on his head and found the blood indeed still damp. Davindra sighed and pulled a tissue from her pocket and pressed it into his hand, then his hand to his head.

“I’m sorry about that night in your office, what I said about Roger Davies,” she said quietly. “I know I was being… a shit for picking a fight with you. But the truth of the matter is that I did want you to be jealous.” She looked honestly embarrassed and sad. “I didn’t mean to make trouble for you.”

“Do you not understand the consequences of your actions?” Snape asked in a quiet, dark voice. “Neither of us would come out of such a scandal unscathed.”

Davindra nodded and looked even more apologetic. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning,” she stated.

He eyed her curiously out of the one inky-black eye that wasn’t hidden under the tissue compressed to his head.

“They don’t think the end is far.” She again nodded sadly. “I don’t think I’ll be back before the end of term.”

“What about your exams?”

“Professor Flitwick said that they could work something out for me.”

Snape wasn’t sure what to say. He mumbled a hasty ‘I’m sorry’ before he attempted to steady himself on his own feet again.

“Professor?” she began, her hand again going to his arm in support. “Remember when you asked me last year if there was anyone else I trusted more than you?”

He said nothing in reply but gave her a glance of irritation that didn’t seem to impede her steps or speech. They began a slow, steady walk to his office, his hand trailing along the wall to give aid to his staggering stride.

“Well, we both know the answer to that,” she continued with a sad chuckle. “My dad is going to be gone soon. All I’ve got left is my mother and grandmothers. I don’t have anyone like you, no one who understands my life like you do.”

She stopped talking for a moment, but they still moved on. Snape wasn’t sure what she was wanting, but he didn’t have the strength to silence her, plus his head was pulsing with enough pain that even talking was difficult.

“I know you’d just as soon be shot of me and I don’t blame you. But don’t chuck me out just now. I don’t think I could handle what I’ve got to face at home knowing that when I did come back to Hogwarts next year that you wouldn’t help me, much less speak to me. O.W.L.s are coming up. How could I get through those without you?”

“Miss Collins,” he sighed irritably. “Must we discuss this now? I have some very important things to tend to immediately. I only have a moment to spare, and being waylaid by you and your incessant demands is taking patience I do not have right now!”

They were finally at the stairs to his office when he stopped and turned to her. Taking the compress from his head, he looked down his hawkish nose into her pleading face. Though she stood strongly before him, her eyes showed somber defeat, and also a sadness so resolute and proud that, for a moment, Snape found himself mesmerized by their icy-green depths. Silently he commanded her thoughts to be revealed, and he saw immense grief and fear. Also there was pain and regret; she was genuinely sorry about their quarrel and had felt deep panic at the idea that he could have been seriously hurt that night. Something else very strong and clear revealed itself from the shadows of her thoughts and startled him so violently that he retreated the instant he saw it.

She continued to look at him beseechingly, surely knowing what he had just done, but seeming either unfazed or unconcerned. Snape took a moment to compose himself before he spoke in a calm voice.

“Now is not the time for you to be concerned with next year’s tasks. We’ll deal with them later. Just go home, and do what you must. I’ll be here when you need me.”

He turned to hurry down the stairs, his cloak billowing behind him, but stopped after a few steps to look over his shoulder. She stood watching after him, her look now changed to one of hope.

“And, in the future, if you wish to relay a message to me, Miss Collins, I suggest that you do not depend on your grandmother.” A cock of his eyebrow punctuated the meaning of his message, and then he continued his descent.

Once behind his closed door and with a long swallow of high potency calming draught in his body, as well as an incantation to heal the laceration to his head, Snape allowed himself to again visit what he had experienced in the recesses of Davindra’s mind. A queasy, weak feeling came over him, and he sat in his chair, closing his eyes.

It was not a fleeting, temporary, or new emotion he had seen. It was one that had been deeply implanted in her for some time. It was startling to see something of that magnitude in someone so young. She couldn’t truly know what she was harboring. She couldn’t honestly understand what she was feeling. But he knew the mind doesn’t lie. What he saw was real and true. Snape shuddered.

Love. She loved him. It was intense, bold, pure, and consuming. Not the innocent love of a juvenile crush or even the sexually driven lust of a hormonal teenager. It was a mature, devoted, unwavering adoration that could not be dampened by his cruelty or neglect. Jealousy fed its obsession. Time only made it stronger. It was embedded in conviction that glorified its existence as just and genuine.

He would have only a few short months to decide how he would handle her and this affliction next year. The most important thing was to keep this information from ever leaving the secure confines of her head. And also to keep a tight reign on himself. He could not let this new awareness change his feelings towards her or how he treated her. But she knew he had seen. She would know that he knew. There was no way to un-see it, though he wished more than anything that he could Obliviate himself and purge the sickening knowledge from his head. He would have to live with the awful secret. One of many he carried deep inside him that even the best Legilimens had yet to find.

Another drink of calming draught and another dab at the last traces of blood on his forehead, and Snape stood to return to the hospital wing. As he crossed the room, his eyes flicked to the cabinet that held the Vision Well and crystals. He stopped and stared.

‘It is easily finished,’ a convincing little voice spoke. ‘And it is important to know if the spell works. Let her continue to be of use to you. Anything you find out will all be in the name of research.’

Again he shuddered and walked from the room, the lyrical chant of the spell to command the crystals to merge as one singing in his head like an old, familiar song.

Word glossary taken from www.wikipedia.org

Cowbane (or Northern Water Hemlock) -- Native to northern and central Europe. Contains cicutoxin, which disrupts the workings of the central nervous system. Poison hemlock has been used as a sedative and for its antispasmodic properties. The difference between a therapeutic and a toxic amount is very slight

Beryl (Beryllium aluminum cyclosilicate). -- The earliest crystal balls were made from beryl. The druids used beryl for scrying (a form of divination). Green beryl is called emerald.

Madame Potion: Chapter Six

2006-12-08T22:27:28Z

Year Four: Draught of Deception

The two summer months of isolation were always too short for Snape to feel completely rejuvenated. It seemed that something always came along to disrupt what little time he got for himself. This time it was the late summer news of Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban. There was a short burst of alarm as Snape wondered what could have driven a man, after nearly thirteen years of incarceration under the most crushing and soul-defeating punishment, to gather what little strength was left and break free. It had taken a very short time behind the walls of Azkaban for Snape to understand that the point of confinement there was not exile but annihilation. He had wanted out as badly as anyone possibly could, but he lacked both the strength and the clarity of mind to figure out a way to slip free. He took the only way out he knew.

So, what had spurred Black to escape now of all times? And how had he done it? More importantly, where was he going, and what was he looking for?

Shortly after arriving at Hogwarts, Dumbledore called a meeting in which he addressed this very subject. The Headmaster’s theory was intriguing, but Snape had doubts about it. What would Sirius Black want with Harry Potter at this point, even if he was his godson? Apparently the Ministry and Azkaban itself agreed with Dumbledore’s presumption because the staff was informed that they would be playing host to Dementors, the guards of the most ominous dungeon on earth. All were assured that the soul-sucking vipers would be limited to the outside of the grounds. However, the very idea of being anywhere near those apparitions of evil again made Snape’s insides turn to liquid. If he had wanted to ever be faced with them once more, he would have kept his mouth shut and lived out his remaining days as a soulless pile of rotting flesh inside a jail cell.

Right after the informal meeting, Dumbledore asked for a moment of Snape’s time. The old wizard waited until he was sure they were alone and then reminded Snape of his offer of help for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. His hopes rose momentarily when he thought that perhaps Lupin wasn’t able to perform his duties for the year after all. Perhaps an episode had already occurred on the train ride from London.

No, Dumbledore wanted Snape to actually help Lupin. Help him. Brew a Wolfsbane Potion to counteract the effects of the transformation on Lupin’s mind. All this trouble to make the man safe and sane enough to teach a class Snape could easily handle with no help from anyone. The Headmaster saw the tell-tale angry twitch of Snape’s lip and attempted to sooth the latest desecration of his ego.

“This would be an immense favor to me, Severus,” he began earnestly. “I realize that there are years of bad history between you and Remus over things that happened at this very school. But it is all history, in the past. You are both now working for a common good. And I do indeed need you both to work together.”

‘Yes,’ Snape seethed inwardly, ‘remind me once again of how I’m forever indebted to you for getting me out of Azkaban, and demand one more favor, one more concession, and keep demanding until I am little more than an empty shell Dementors would hardly recognize.’

Much to his own self loathing, Snape found himself agreeing respectfully to undertake the project of helping a man he detested in assuming one of the few things he most desired.

When finally alone in his office, Snape used a Silencing Charm on his door and proceeded to break everything made of glass within his reach.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time of the beginning of the year feast and sorting, Snape was calmed, clean, and under control. Mock-Thistle Wine was a wondrous concoction. The soothing taste of wine and the relaxing sensation of a calming draught with no aggravating side effects of drunkenness. No one was the wiser. And if Dumbledore noticed, as a wizard of his experience could if he were to pay close enough attention, he gave Snape a pass on any censure.

Once again, Snape found his eyes passing over his own Slytherin students to search the Ravenclaw table for any sign of the dark-haired creature who had monopolized far too much of his time and thoughts for the past four years. Most of the taller, dark heads he momentarily focused on were males. It looked like many of Davindra’s classmates were finally starting to catch up to her height. Eventually his eyes found her.

Her trademark black tresses blocked the view of her face from him. But Snape knew to wait. She would know he was there. She would feel his eyes calling to her. And soon, she did pause in her conversation and turn to look directly at him.

Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the disregard he was feeling for Hogwarts’s propriety, but he held her gaze steadily when she turned her intense pale eyes to him.

There was something different in those eyes. Sadness. Suffering. A keen awareness of pain and loss. Snape remembered the conversation with Lillyth Sparrow. Davindra was coping with a seriously ill parent. It would cause a change in anyone. The message her eyes conveyed was so strong that Snape made a split second decision.

‘Legilimens,’ Snape commanded silently. He felt Davindra easily let him in to her thoughts, as though it was what she had wanted from the moment she had looked at him.

A rush of images came at Snape. Her mother telling her that her father’s illness was terminal. Madame Collins telling her that no matter what she was feeling, she must remember her purpose. Lovely Lillyth Sparrow comforting her granddaughter with warm arms and soothing words. An overwhelming feeling of despair and helplessness as Davindra cried alone in her bed.

Then Davindra’s own words spoke to him. ‘It’s been horrible. I’m so glad you’re here.’

The shock of her communicating to him through his mind probe and the sound of Dumbledore calling for the house sorting to begin brought Snape out of his spell. With their visual connection also broken, he found himself wishing for more of the Mock-Thistle Wine to steady his nerves. All he had was the weak mead Hogwarts supplied the staff with their evening meals, but he drank it eagerly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In accordance with Dumbledore’s request, Snape began on the Wolfsbane Potion. The new year of classes and the updates on the latest spottings of Sirius Black kept him quite busy. His contact with Davindra was limited to the class times for the first week.

Her popularity had indeed risen in the past four years. Now she seemed to have a number of both females and males around her at nearly all times. Though she still did laugh and chatter like the rest, often there was a heavy oppression that clung to her demeanor. The haughty and sometimes mocking smile didn’t appear with the frequency Snape had previously known. Those usually hypnotic, green eyes mostly held a weary, hopeless cast.

On an unseasonably warm weekend day, soon after school had started, everyone took advantage of the brilliant sunshine and gathered outside. Even the staff ventured out to wander through the grounds. Many clusters of students congregated under trees or played makeshift games of Quidditch. Others milled near the edge of the Black Lake.

Snape stood inside the sheltered walkways and gazed out at the happy groups. Many had donned Muggle summer clothes for the last time of the year. One such troop of females stood at the lakeshore, Davindra being amongst them. She stood with her back to him, her inky black hair whipping about in the breeze and sporting a pair of impossibly short shorts.

‘Merlin’s balls, if those skinny legs of hers get any longer, she’ll end up as tall as Hagrid,’ Snape thought to himself. If he had any say in the matter, clothing of that sort wouldn’t even be allowed at Hogwarts, no matter what the weather.

Apparently he was not the only one to notice Davindra. Pebbles being chucked in her direction drew her attention to Draco Malfoy and his group. There was a playful exchange of words that Snape didn’t quite hear, but he was sure that Malfoy was not using the term “Mudblood” this time. Finally, Davindra stooped to gather a handful of tiny rocks from the shore and wing them with great force at the boys. The girls laughed, and the boys scattered, but not without dashing grins and long backward looks at the slender form still at the water’s edge.

The expected hormonal charging of boys and girls was beginning. Now Snape felt he had something else to be secretly watchful over. Draco Malfoy and perhaps every other young buck would have a hard time resisting a burgeoning Veela temptress with little control over her powers of seduction and seemingly unaware of her blossoming beauty. Snape wasn’t sure who deserved protection more, her or the young men who fell under her spell.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the first batch of Wolfsbane Potion was done, Snape sent word to Lupin, whom he had been avoiding with much calculated care since the term began. They had exchanged wary looks and mumbled greetings during the beginning of year feast, but as of yet had not spoken at length.

When the two were finally face to face, Snape eyed his former nemesis carefully. Lupin carried a look of eternal exhaustion. Thin, jagged scars peppered his face and neck. But there was still a comical glimmer in his eye as he regarded Snape.

“I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he spoke with a reserved smile.

“Let’s not pretend that this arrangement is anything other than what it is,” Snape said coldly, his dark eyes boring into Lupin. “This was done as a favor to Dumbledore. Personally, I couldn’t care less if you morphed into your true drooling, howling self and stayed there.”

Snape held out a goblet of still steaming potion. Lupin gave a wistful smile as he took it in his hand, then looked back to the dark man before him.

“Severus, there are a lot of things I should apologize for, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t even know how to begin.”

“Then don’t bother.”

“I’d really hate for us to be mature adults, teaching together at our alma mater, and still harboring juvenile grudges.”

Snape’s only response was a crippling, iron stare.

Lupin sighed. “You know I could have my grudges to hold also. Two of my dearest friends and countless others lost their lives fighting against your dark master.”

This brought Snape out of his stoic stance. Charging to within a few inches of Lupin, he growled, “Why is it that I have to constantly be reminded of my mistakes and be made to pay for them continuously? Why is it that I get to shoulder the blame for the Potters’s death now that the Dark Lord is no longer around?”

Lupin said nothing but met Snape’s stare with resolve.

“And why is it that no one wants to remember all I sacrificed to make amends and contribute to the downfall of the Dark Lord? Instead I am sentenced to spend my time serving those who wish to condemn me and getting not thanks but questions still of my loyalty.”

A few more moments of deadly stare passed between them before Lupin finally broke the look by stepping back away from the confrontation.

“I do very much appreciate your help,” he said holding up the potion. “And I am very sorry about the things we did to you years ago. We were stupid, arrogant, senseless kids. If I could do it over again differently, I would. I know that you are an excellent teacher and that Dumbledore trusts you implicitly. That’s enough for me.”

Lupin threw the potion down his throat and swallowed quickly, giving a grimace of revulsion at the taste, then turned to go.

Snape felt unaffected by his attempt at kindness. There were no words to mend the past.

“Remus,” he called before the man got past the door. “If you run into your old chum, Sirius, while knocking over rubbish bins with your pack, you will let us know, won’t you?”

Lupin gave a stony look but no words as he exited the office. Snape was left with a slight feeling of satisfaction and an insuppressible, icy smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape kept expecting Madame Collins to pop up at any time during those first few weeks at Hogwarts. Not since she had dropped the memory on his desk at the end of last year had he seen her. But he swore he could feel her lurking just in the shadows, perhaps mingling with the Dementors, waiting to pounce. Still unsure what she intended with her latest gift and not certain how the issue of her son’s ailing health was being handled, Snape chose to keep silent also.

The next day after fourth year Potions class, he noticed Davindra lagging behind, waiting for everyone to leave the classroom. Snape watched her, knowing what she would say.

“I suppose you are here regarding this year’s tutoring?” he asked.

That familiar, alluring, shy smile popped on to her face. Snape had to admit it was almost refreshing to see the dismal sadness gone if only for a moment. She walked from her desk to the front of the room, coming to stand much too close to him for comfort. But he didn’t move, only gazed down his hooked nose into her metallic green eyes, careful to keep every part of him stone cold and impassable.

“Grandmother said I needed to be especially sharp this year,” she said brightly. “She said we should at least be working on seventh year practices.”

Lillyth Sparrow had been right, Snape thought. Demelza was indeed intent on pushing this girl all the harder, no matter if her father was dying a slow, painful death.

“She also gave me a list of books we should try.” Davindra drew a folded paper from her robe pocket and held it in front of Snape’s face playfully.

Her eyes twinkled as she waved it slightly and leaned in to whisper, “I think some of them may be restricted.”

Snape’s hard, black eyes never left hers as he slowly reached up then snatched the paper from her hand.

“I’m sure your grandmother has everything nicely planned for us,” he began calmly. “But as usual, she has not taken into consideration my time in this issue. I have several matters this year that will be needing my utmost attention. However, I will see what can be arranged. I may have a few special projects that you could assist me in.”

Her smile broadened and he was struck with the dreaded, anxious feeling of having the air sucked from his body when she looked into him the way she did just then. She dared to step closer, and it seemed she was about to touch him when Snape quickly flung himself away from her and strode to his desk.

“Come to my office tomorrow evening at six,” he said as he busied himself stacking books in no particular order. “I have something you can attempt.”

Her eyes drifted over him. He could feel it like sand pouring over his bare skin. Finally she turned to go.

“Miss Collins?” Snape called.

She stopped and gave him an expectant look.

He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, but he knew he needed to say something about what he had seen when he had looked into her mind the night of the feast.

“You are… doing well?”

She cocked her head questioningly, like a cat.

“I ran into Lillyth Sparrow this past summer. She told me about your father.”

A slightly sad smile touched her lips for a moment as she said, “I believe I already told you how I was doing.”

Again they stood staring into one another for several silent moments.

“Of course, you know that if the need arises, there are exceptions that can be made for students in extenuating familial circumstances,” he spoke quietly, carefully.

She nodded, and the serene sadness Snape had witnessed in recent times returned to her face.

“As Grandmother says, hard work is what would be best for me now. Keep my mind busy and active, and I won’t have time to be sad.”

Though she said it with conviction, there was a bitter edge to her voice. Snape could just imagine Demelza’s mantra of endlessly high expectations in constant bombardment of the young girl’s emotionally saturated brain. The old woman was truly ruthless.

Snape searched himself for words of comfort to feed Davindra, but found he had none. He was not used to doling out kindnesses. Neither could he sympathize with the loss of an endearing father. He had wished his own dead of some horrible Muggle disease more times than he could count. So, he simply nodded to her to indicate her dismissal.

Again, her eyes clung to him, though her body turned away. In a slow spin, her hair fanned away from her then settled back against her shoulders and fell into a rhythmic wave with her steps. To his chagrin, Snape found it impossible to not watch the way she exited the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The potion he began Davindra on was one of the calming draughts from Tom Riddle’s book. And though a few of the ingredients seemed misplaced, for the most part, it appeared innocuous enough to Snape that he felt there was no danger in her trying it on her own. The idea pleased Davindra greatly, and her eyes sparkled when he presented her with the task. She eagerly dove into preparing the ingredients and worked efficiently and silently until her voice commanded Snape out of his deep thoughts

“Tell me about Sirius Black.”

He looked over to find her wrapping her long hair into a knot at the back of her head as she readied her cauldron for the fire. She then stood with hands on hips, her eyes searched him with a excitement.

“He’s an insane, dangerous criminal who will soon be brought to justice,” Snape delivered quickly, not certain where her desire for this topic came from.

Davindra sighed loudly. “Everyone knows that much. He was in Azkaban for working for the Dark Lord. But you knew him, didn’t you?”

Snapes eyes snapped up at her.

“I mean, you went to school together. You’re about the same age, I’m guessing.” She pointed to the Hogwarts diploma that sat almost hidden on one of the many cluttered shelves of his office.

Snape’s eyes focused on the diploma for a while, allowing himself to only briefly remember the many times he crossed paths with not only Sirius Black but the rest of his merry band of bullies.

“Yes, we were in school at the same time,” Snape replied quickly, returning to his reading.

“What was he like? Was he an evil dark supporter even then?”

Snape’s eyes gazed up to see Davindra looking far more interested and engrossed in the gossip he might let slip than the potion she was supposed to be brewing.

“As a matter of fact, he was always skirting the edges of malevolence. I’m not the least bit surprised that he ended up in Azkaban.”

“But you ended up in Azkaban,” Davindra stated so plainly that Snape felt himself wince.

“I think that’s enough chit chat, Miss Collins,” Snape snapped so bitterly it caused her to flinch. “I’d suggest that you keep that pointed little nose of yours out of other people’s business and stick it back into that cauldron and do what you are here for.”

His razor-like glare held her in a wary silence as she went back to concocting the calming draught, though her large, pale eyes did periodically dare to glance back to see if he still nursed an icy rage.

Neither spoke until she announced that the brewing was finished, and all that was left was a cooling time before it was bottled. Snape nodded curtly and excused her. Davindra began to leave but stopped at the door and turned as if to speak. A cold warning from his dark eyes told her to not bother.

Instead she smiled meekly and pushed the bangs from her eyes before she cleared her throat and said, “Goodnight then, sir,” in a soft voice.

Snape felt a small amount of tension leave his body when the clank of the latch sounded that she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He desired to put some distance between them to ease the emotional jangling she tended to inflict. Also, not wishing to dislodge any more probing questions of his past and how it might intertwine with Sirius Black, Snape took to mostly handing out reading assignments for Davindra’s tutoring. Sometimes it was nothing more than an interesting article he had read on new uses for toadstools or advances in wand making. The tactic didn’t keep her from his doorstep or from ambushing him outside the staff room with comments and further research on the topics.

It seemed that she was taking her grandmother’s words to heart and throwing herself fully into her schoolwork. Every night she could be found in the library poring over books, polishing up her homework, and even offering her help to others when hers was done. Soon a weariness began to show that even the other teachers noticed.

Flitwick, Davindra’s head of house, came to Snape specifically to inquire if he might ease up on the extra work that was assumed to be the cause for her constant slaving. Snape assured the diminutive Charms teacher that he had in fact limited the extra work and that Davindra seemed to be pushing herself of her own accord. Flitwick seemed quite worried and wondered if Dumbledore should be consulted. Snape stated that Davindra might be suffering from some lack of sleep, but she was a manic sort of child, who seemed to thrive on burying herself a multitude of tasks. If her health appeared to suffer further, or if there was a drastic change, then perhaps Dumbledore should be involved. In the mean time, the Headmaster was much too involved with the issue of Black’s escape to be bothered with tedious subjects. Flitwick asked Snape to keep an eye on her, since she seemed to constantly shadow after him. There was a curious flicker to the dwarf’s button eyes, and Snape glared in challenge for him to speak his thoughts. There was only an uncomfortable silence, which Snape broke by saying he would do the best he could to ensure Davindra didn’t risk injury to her health. Pacified, Flitwick left with a quick, suspicious glance as he pulled the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At Halloween it was reported that Sirius Black had breeched the secure guard surrounding Hogwarts and made it behind the school walls. A thorough search found nothing, though Snape would have loved to have been the one to find Black. His first thought was to search under Lupin’s desk, since it seemed that the most logical way into Hogwarts was to be let in by someone on the inside. Lupin and Black had been quite devoted in their youth. Even now, despite the charges against Black, Snape doubted that would have changed.

All through his hunt up and down the corridors and into rooms not entered for years, Snape’s mind played with what it would be like to come face to face with another of his enemies from time past. It would be tempting to exact some revenge before anyone else even knew about his capture. But extracting some useful information would also be highly tempting. As the night dragged on, it became apparent, much to Snape’s disappointment, that Black had fled Hogwarts. He was the Dementors’ issue now.

Students all slept in the Great Hall for the night. Safety in numbers, Dumbledore said. And also to ease their minds. However, Snape suspected it was to keep an easier eye on Harry Potter. No one would dare take a swipe at him in a room full of witnesses. In the small hours of the night, Snape reported back to the Headmaster among the slumbering forms. They spoke of Black, and Snape’s specific concerns about Lupin, but his eyes played about looking for Davindra’s body among the many scattered over the vast hall.

When Dumbledore left, Snape allowed himself a moment to walk the rows of sleeping bags, his eyes casually in search of her. Quickly, she was spotted. She wasn’t asleep, nor did she pretend to be as many of the students seemed to be doing. She rolled from her side to gaze up at him, her hair fanned about her like a cape, her long, pale arms rested outside the covers. The dim starlight of the Great Hall enchanted ceiling cast her in a soft, ethereal glow.

He resisted the urge to kneel, brush the hair from her forehead, and feel the warmth of her brow beneath his lips. Instead, he solemnly looked down, a single thought slithering its way from his mind to hers; She was not to worry, but to sleep, for nothing could harm her during his vigilant guard. A soft, slight smile, and drowsy eyes responded. Davindra turned to her side once again, her fingers brushed against his boot in a deliberate caress as she settled to pull the blanket over her shoulders. Snape dared only stand a second longer before walking silently on to continue his patrol.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Strange occurrences were the norm for Hogwarts, it seemed. But not for Snape. His classes, Slytherin house, his students, and his rooms were in exact order so he always knew what went on where, and the exact location of everything at all times. It was the only way Snape allowed things to be in his life.

The moment he walked into his office, he could sense someone had been there. There was not a book or bottle out of place, nor anything missing, but he could feel the residue of someone’s magic in the air. His first thought was of Davindra snooping in his personal belongings. But whoever did this was extremely careful, more so than a young, eager girl could ever be.

His next thought was of Sirius Black. But Snape doubted that even if Black managed to get back into Hogwarts he would have a desire for anything in Snape’s office.

Curious as it was, Snape could not reason it out. Nor could he find anyone to pin the intrusion on, especially with no proof. Not even Harry Potter and his little tribe of followers could realistically be considered. Deciding he would mention it to Dumbledore when he had the chance, he set the matter aside and began using a heavier anti-intruder spell on his doors even during school hours.

Days later, when he noticed a few supplies missing from his closet, Snape felt renewed rage. Someone was taking him for a fool, and he was determined to put a stop to it. An elaborate intruder charm was placed on the supply closet. If anyone were to attempt to set foot in it, Snape would know. An Alarmist Crystal was carried with him at all times. When it felt warm and filled with black smoke, the charm would have been set off and the thief would be unable to leave the closet until Snape released them. He was quite anxious to get his hands on whoever the culprit might be. If it were Potter or any part of his crew, Snape had a variety of punishments set aside especially for them.

Davindra continued her tireless pace. Snape watched carefully, but from a distance, as she began to become hollow eyed and gaunt. Finally, Madam Pince found her passed out over her books in the library, and Davindra was forced into bed rest for a few days in the hospital wing.

A scathing owl from Madame Collins and another voicing careful concern from Lillyth Sparrow made Snape feel as though he were being held responsible for Davindra’s ill health. He replied to neither message and instead sulked with a bottle of elf-made wine and contemplated whether he actually did shoulder any blame.

It took a while before Snape mustered up the nerve to go see her. He gathered the last few days of Potions homework, as well as the latest issue of Potions Weekly, to take her.

Cautiously, he walked into the hospital ward, glancing about in the hopes there was no one around to witness his visit. As he started toward the only occupied bed in the vast room, Snape saw that another person sat on the edge talking with Davindra. Draco Malfoy was perched close to her blanket wrapped legs, smiling as they spoke in quiet tones. Davindra also smiled, giving more life to her face than Snape had seen in several weeks.

He stopped to stare at the two who quickly realized that they were being watched. Both turned to look at him with almost startled expressions. Malfoy quickly got up.

“Well, I gotta be going, Davi,” he said as he cleared his throat nervously and began to leave. “I’ll catch up with you when you get out of here. Feel better, okay?” He gave a small wave as he walked on.

Malfoy stopped momentarily to exchange looks with Snape. Both eyed each other carefully before mumbling greetings, then moving on.

Snape’s focus stayed on the boy until he left the room, then turned back to Davindra who sat in bed beaming at the sight of him.

“Professor,” she purred as she drew her legs up in an invitation for him to take Malfoy’s place on the bed.

Snape didn’t accept the enticement. He remained at a safe distance, standing near the foot of her bed.

“Miss Collins, I assume you are feeling better?” he asked.

Her face had gained some color, and her eyes seemed to have recaptured a bit of their sparkle. Her black hair hung lose around her shoulders like heavy drapery. She smiled sweetly and hugged her knees to her chest.

“I’m better, yes.” Her eyes went to the books in his hand. “What did you bring me?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s only your Potions homework and a magazine with an interview with a wizard who is working on a new strain of Mandrake.” Snape tossed the books onto her bed.

They regarded one another for several silent moments until Snape finally realized he couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“What was Draco Malfoy doing here?” he asked with overt composure.

“He was just visiting,” Davindra replied.

“A Slytherin befriending a Ravenclaw. Will wonders never cease?” Snape remarked. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but wasn’t it Draco Malfoy who tricked you into a mud puddle and called you names?”

“That was over two years ago. He’s different now. Several of the Slytherins are actually pretty nice.” Davindra reached to her bedside table for a box of Honeydukes’s chocolates. “Except that Pansy Parkinson. Ugh, I hate her! If I catch her giving me that nasty look again, I swear I’ll hex her hair off.” She popped a candy into her mouth and chewed leisurely as she peered up at Snape.

“Gifts from admirers?” he asked, his eyes moving over the piles of candy, vases of flowers, and various stuffed toys that littered her side tables.

Davindra nodded. “Though Granny Lilly sent me this.” She pulled out a little fairy doll that began to dance back and force in her hand and sing in a high, squeaky voice.

“Charming,” he winced. “Make it stop.”

She put it back, seeing that he wasn’t impressed.

“And Grandmother has sent an owl every day. She said she’d come if I wanted her to. But I’m guessing I don’t need her. She said you would look out for me. But you already told me that yourself.” There was the return of her coquettish smile “Would you like to sit down, Professor?” Her eyes darted to the edge of the bed nearest him.

“No,” he said flatly, an uncomfortable tightness beginning in his stomach. “It seems you are nearly back to normal. You will be returning to class soon?”

“Madam Pomfrey said I could leave tomorrow.”

“Then I will expect to see you in Potions.” Snape turned sharply to leave, then stopped and looked back. “Miss Collins, I don’t ever want to see you in here again,” he said quietly. “Do be more careful where your health is concerned.”

She sat motionless; her slight smile spoke that she read him easily.

Snape continued on his exit, his feet not working fast enough to remove him from her penetrating scrutiny.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Even after her release, Davindra still had a tendency to bury herself in as much activity as possible. During Potions she would often be ahead of everyone else and would sit waiting while others around her caught up. In those quiet moments, Snape would see her face grow somber and her eyes lose focus as her mind undoubtedly went to the issue of her father’s slow death taking place far away from Hogwarts. Requesting that she assist someone running far behind would bring her back to the present reality. She seemed relived to be given something to occupy her thoughts.

One Saturday night Snape was heading back to his office after dinner when he found Davindra standing at his door.

Snape slowed and let out a disappointed groan.

“What is it now, Miss Collins?”

She was wearing ridiculous Muggle casual attire: pants and a clinging shirt, with her hair clipped loosely at the back of her head. Snape made a point of not looking as though he gave notice to how she dressed, though the image was burned into his mind.

“I saw you had gotten in a fresh shipment of lacewing flies. I thought you might like them sorted.” She looked hopeful and eager.

Snape opened his office door and walked ahead of her. “Do you really have nothing better to do on a Saturday night ?” he asked irritably. “I have to supervise detention in the library and don’t have the spare time to supervise you.”

“It’s only sorting flies,” she retorted as she followed close behind him. “How much supervision do I need?”

He spun about to look into her face. “Tell me again why you wish to take up a weekend night not with enjoying the company of your fellow housemates but in a dungeon doing work normally left for those in detention?”

Davindra shrugged her shoulders and smiled, though her eyes darted about the room. Snape smiled coolly as he surmised it was more avoidance of her own thoughts. The horrors of the imagination and the anguish of the heart were not easy things to hide from.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Sort the lacewing flies, then go find something else to occupy your frivolous time with.”

She did little to suppress her victorious grin. Snape gathered a few things from his desk and headed out towards the library, telling her to come find him immediately when she was done. He didn’t want to leave his office unprotected for a second longer than necessary.

Snape tucked himself away in a corner of the library where he could still keep an eye on the few students who were dusting books. He craved the peace and darkness of the restricted section, but forced himself to stay visible and vigilant. For quite some time he sat with his nose pressed into the third years’ essays when he wasn’t suspiciously eyeing the surly group. Just when he was about to be bored mindless from the horrid misquoting and preposterous muddling of various spells students still made after three years of his instruction, Snape felt a strange warmth in the pocket of his jacket. Reaching in, he pulled out the Alarmist Crystal, which he had nearly forgotten about. Black smoke rolled about the inside of the gem as it grew warmer in his hand.

Snape ran from the library, quickly forgetting the detention, bound for the potions supply closet. He tore around corners, his robe flapping behind him like that of a great bat. Students quickly stood aside and stared after him, wondering who was the victim of his latest wrath.

The door of the closet was sealed shut with the spell attached to the Alarmist Crystal. He stopped at the door and leaned his ear close, to perhaps hear the fervent scurrying or clawing of the desperate prey he had just trapped. But he heard nothing. A wave of his wand and Alohomora released the door of its charm. It swung open to reveal a shadowy interior. In the corner a figure stood.

“Alright, you’ve been caught,” Snape announced, his wand still raised. “There will be no escape, so you might as well show yourself.”

Slowly the figure moved into the light. Davindra stood in the open doorway, her arms crossed, a look of stoic resignation on her face. Not able to conceal his shock, Snape lowered his wand as his mouth fell open at the sight of her. He recovered himself immediately and stepped closer, pressing the tip of his wand under her chin. Her head tilted back, but her eyes stayed on him.

“Please explain yourself, Miss Collins,” he snarled. “Because finding that someone I actually trusted to respect my rules and property has insulted my generosity by stealing from me is most disturbing. I had no idea behind all that good breeding and intelligence lurked a common thief.”

Snape pushed the wand’s tip further into her flesh, causing her to wince, but still she said nothing.

He suddenly spied a bulge in her front jeans pocket. With two fingers he reached down and pulled a small bottle from her hip. Then reaching further in, but forcing himself not to linger, his fingers found another. He gripped the two bottles in his fist and held them in front of her.

“And how did these find their way into your snug little pocket?” His voice dripped with deadly sarcasm. “Mermaid cartilage and unicorn blood,” he read from the labels. “And what were you going to do with these, pray tell?”

Without a reply, Davindra slowly reached inside the neckline of her shirt and pulled a paper envelope from inside of her bra. Snape plucked the packet from her hand, the warmth of her breast still perceptible to his fingers.

“Phoenix ashes.” Snape eyed her carefully. “Any other items you wish to surrender, or shall I search you myself?”

The thought made him quiver inside, and he imagined he saw a shiver run through her as well.

“That’s all,” she replied quietly.

Snape looked again at the supplies then back to her. “These are rare and expensive elements you have attempted to swipe from me. I could have you expelled and back on your grandmother’s doorstep by morning.”

He continued to stare into her face with as much brutal intensity as he could muster. Though he loved the idea of executing a harsh discipline for her crime, he knew the last thing he would ever do would be to send her away from Hogwarts. But he also knew that would be the threat that would elicit the most fear and get a confession of her reasons for carrying out this offense.

“Now, answer my question,” Snape demanded as he lowered his wand. “Why were you stealing these particular things from my supply closet?”

Davindra paused for a moment, her eyes cast down as she inhaled a steadying breath. She pushed her bangs from her eyes and her feet shuffled in place.

She spoke only a second before he would have lost his temper. “It’s for my father.”

The impassive cruelty didn’t falter from Snape’s gaze, though he now understood what she had been trying to do.

“He’s so sick now. No one can do anything, no Muggle doctor anyway. I had read in one of the medical magic books that there were some potions created by Healers that had helped some Muggle diseases.”

Davindra shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I just wanted to do something to help because no one else will.”

Snape thought for a moment. Should he involve Dumbledore? Should take care of this himself? Did her reasons justify her transgression?

“To my office, now,” he commanded and motioned with his wand for her to lead the way.

He pondered the situation as he followed behind, and by the time they had reached the office, his brain was, unfortunately, no more clear than before.

Snape signaled for her to sit in the worn wingback by his desk as he paced.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve stolen from me, is it?”

“I got into the closet one other time for Grindylow scales,” she replied with very little remorse. “I was attempting a potion for pain relief and nausea, but it didn’t work.”

“And that is all? What about when you broke into my office? What did you take then?” Snape demanded.

She furrowed her brows. “I’ve never broken into your office.”

“The time for lies is through, Miss Collins.” He came to stand in front of her and stared down at her submissive form reclined in the chair. “My patience for your games has worn thin. You’ve been caught red handed…”

“I’ve never lied to you and you know it!” Davindra interjected as she sat up straight. “I might have taken those things from your supply closet, but I’ve at least confessed to it. I’ve never broken into your office nor stolen anything from it.”

As Snape was about to light into the various things he believed she had lied about from the moment he'd met her, there came a knock at his door. He gave Davindra a cool promise of continuance with his eyes as he moved to fling open the door and severely chastise whoever dared stand on the other side. Albus Dumbledore was waiting on the doorstep, forcing Snape to take his temper down several notches and to realize his decision about involving the Headmaster had been made for him.

The old wizard smiled serenely as he stepped into the office and walked directly to Davindra as though he had total awareness of all that had transpired that evening.

“Is there a problem, Professor Snape?” Dumbledore asked with a look of genuine concern.

“Yes,” Snape replied. “It seems that I found Miss Collins pilfering my supply closet.”

“Is that true, Davindra?”

“Yes, it is, Professor Dumbledore,” she answered respectfully.

“And,” Snape continued. “I also believe her to be guilty of breaking into my office. Though I have no proof,” he added quietly.

“I did not break into Professor Snape’s office,” Davindra announced fiercely.

Dumbledore held up his hands for silence. “Why did you break into the supply closet?”

Again she explained about making the potion for her ailing father. The wizard nodded as he listened to her story.

“I’ve heard of your father’s health, and I’m truly sorry,” he began. “Your wishing to be of assistance and aid is admirable, but unfortunately what you have been told by your family and the Muggle doctors is true. There is very little that anyone can do. Sometimes not even magic is the answer to every problem.”

His words were kind and spoken in a compassionate way that seemed to finally bring Davindra’s emotions to the surface. Snape saw her holding back tears and attempting to restrain her feelings.

“I know I can’t cure him,” she said. “I’m not that naïve. I just hate seeing him suffer. I just can’t understand why people aren’t doing more. The only thing Grandmother offered to do was make a potion that would keep his hair from falling out.” She gave a sad chuckle, then looked at Dumbledore. “If he could only eat and sleep peacefully, then maybe the rest wouldn’t be so bad.”

Snape stood back and watched the exchange between the two. He felt a sudden jealousy at the way Dumbledore was able to extract such mellow and honest emotion from Davindra and how easily she opened herself to him. Feeling as though his presence had been forgotten, he stepped forward.

“Although her intentions might have been noble, Headmaster, there is still the matter of stealing, which is a very serious offense. Since I was the victim of this crime, I think I should be able to chose the appropriate punishment.”

Dumbledore looked to Snape and then back to Davindra.

“This is a serious matter. One that, though perhaps backed by good intentions, cannot go unpunished.”

Turning to Snape, he continued. “It would be best to have Professor Flitwick involved since Davindra is a Ravenclaw.”

Snape shouldn’t have been surprised. Whenever “Saint Potter” broke a rule, even if it directly effected Snape, he was never allowed any say in the punishment. McGonagall had final judgment over all Gryffindors, always with the backing of Dumbledore and never taking Snape’s suggestions into consideration. Why would that change now with any other student?

Once more, Snape found himself bowing to the Headmaster’s superiority and quietly following along behind Davindra to Dumbledore’s office. The one time she slowed to gaze back at Snape he took the opportunity to jab his wand sharply into her back to keep her moving. Silently she flinched in pain, but she didn’t attempt to look at him again.

Flitwick listened with a grave expression on his face as he heard all sides of the story. Davindra stood amongst the men with quiet dignity to await her sentencing. After much debate back and forth, it was agreed that fifteen points would be taken from Ravenclaw, she would lose privileges to Hogsmeade for three months and perform one month’s worth of detention under the direction of Argus Filch.

It was the second best choice Snape could imagine. If there was one person who would be willing to comply with Snape’s bidding it was the Hogwarts caretaker. The Squib had always fancied himself an adopted Slytherin, an idea Snape didn’t discourage simply because it won favor with the one other person besides Dumbledore who had access to and knew everything in Hogwarts.

Before the night was done Snape had already spoken with Filch and arranged a month’s worth of grueling duties that would keep Davindra too busy to focus on the problems that seem to plague her mind.

Dumbledore asked Snape to remain behind after the others left. He went on to say the real reason for his coming to Snape that evening was to ask if he would take Professor Lupin’s class for the next week. It seemed that the last moon cycle had been especially hard on the werewolf, and he would need some time to recover. Snape wondered if they still spirited him off to the Shrieking Shack for his episodes and if that were still the safest place to house a dangerous animal.

Snape agreed to take the class but gently suggested that perhaps Lupin was not the best selection for the position if his health would be in question every month. Dumbledore said he felt confident in Lupin’s abilities and that all that was needed was a stronger Wolfsbane Potion.

Perhaps it was his already paranoid imagination, but Snape thought he saw an accusing look in the Headmaster’s eye. Feeling as though he had been the victim of one too many slights for the night, he felt his patience snap.

“Do you think I have purposely given Remus an inferior potion? Do you think I would risk endangering everyone at Hogwarts just to settle a childhood grudge?” Snape dared to give Dumbledore a hard, even glare as he nervously clenched his fists.

Dumbledore’s look softened to the extent that Snape questioned the accusation he thought he had seen only a moment ago. Instead of raging back against the Potions teacher’s insolence, the kindly wizard put his hand on Snape’s shoulder and spoke gently.

“Severus, I know you better than to even suspect that for one second. No, I simply believe that Remus’s condition warrants a more aggressive mixture to combat the effects. This has been an especially trying night. Why don’t you get some sleep, and I’m sure we’ll all be back to ourselves in the morning.”

With one last pat to his arm, the Headmaster glided off, leaving Snape to feel both annoyed and ashamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His lesson plan made out for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Snape decided to check on Davindra’s detention. For the past few days she had spent part of her evenings scrubbing floors and bathrooms, cleaning out rattraps, and polishing trophy cases. He had passed her often while she was on her knees with a brush or rag in her hand, dirt, and sweat dripping from her forehead. She would give him a blank, flat stare, but Snape could read her rage without even trying.

Finding her alone in the trophy room, he quietly approached. His shoes left muddy smears on the freshly scrubbed floor. Standing next to her kneeling form, Snape couldn’t help but smirk.

“It seems you missed a spot.”

Davindra didn’t acknowledge his presence nor pause in her work.

A quick look around proved they were quite alone. Snape crouched down.

Quietly he spoke. “You know, Miss Collins, I am not completely devoid of human compassion. If you had only come to me about the issue with your father, I might have been able to help. And this whole unpleasant problem could have been avoided.”

She stopped and sat back on her heels to give him a cold look.

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Her sarcasm was piercing. “You would have told me the exact same thing everyone else has. ‘There is nothing to be done, now go practice making some potion and behave yourself’.”

Snape raised his eyebrows at her sharpness. “And so you refuse to believe that someone tells you the truth simply because it isn’t what you want to hear?”

Davindra slammed her brush into the bucket causing filthy, soapy water to splash everywhere.

“I’m paying my dues for stealing from you,” she said through clenched teeth. “What more do you want?”

“I want you to understand your position,” Snape hissed back. “You are a child of fifteen who, though quite intelligent, does not know everything. You cannot go around forcing your will into every situation that does not meet with your expectations.”

She sat silently, her jaw clenched, refusing to look at him as he spoke.

“Though you may not believe it, I have done a great deal for you, at the risk of my own neck at times. That is why I was so grievously distressed to find that you would go behind my back and steal from me when I have gone so far out of my way to accommodate your needs.”

“I’ve already lost Hogsmeade privileges. I’m on my knees scrubbing….” she began angrily.

“It’s all irrelevant unless you truly understand!” Snape shouted more loudly than he intended. He lowered his voice to continue. “Tell me honestly, Miss Collins, is there anyone here you trust more than me?”

She sat stock still for a moment then slowly turned to look into his black eyes. There was hesitation, but Snape could see the answer dawning to her.

“I thought not.” He cocked an eyebrow for emphasis. “It’s important for you to remember that. The last thing you want to do is to burn the only trustworthy bridge you have left to cross.”

A measured calm settled over Davindra. “Then tell me, Professor Snape,” she began in a hard voice. “Would you be able to make a potion to help my father’s last days be more comfortable?”

“Seems a bit late to be asking for favors, don’t you think?”

Cocking her head to the side, she gave him an unforgiving stare.

“You’re all I have left to turn to, remember?” There was bitterness to her voice. “And I’m trusting you to be honest with me. Is there really anything that could be done?”

Snape pursed his lips and thought for a moment. Did she deserve anything from him at that point? But if he wanted honesty from her, perhaps it was best to lead by example.

“I’ve never heard of a wizard curing Muggle cancer,” he said finally. “I have heard of some potions helping with side effects of the treatments: nausea, weakness, pain. But their results are unreliable. Not all Muggles respond to magic in the same way. It might help, it might do nothing, it might kill him all together.”

She seemed to think for a moment on his words, then looked him in the eye and nodded.

“Could you try?” she asked.

“I’m not a Healer, and I’ve never attempted a medical potion for a Muggle.”

“So there really is nothing?” She seemed appalled and disgusted. “What good is all this magic anyway?”

Davindra picked the brush out of the bucket and began to scrub again. Snape stood and watched her, feeling he should say something and not sure what.

“Miss. Collins,” he began. “I’ll see what I can find out. But I guarantee you nothing.”

She looked up at his towering form from her hands and knees. “Then I’ll know to not be disappointed.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rushing weeks before the holidays gave Snape little time for anything other than class preparation and grading. But he found himself often pacing with a caged anger in his office, his mind nowhere near the tasks that needed finishing.

It seemed Lupin had not liked Snape’s course plan for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He had come into Snape’s office looking congenial enough and stating that Snape’s trick had been very clever, but if he were to ever try anything like it again, he would be facing Dumbledore’s wrath.

Snape informed him that even if that were the case, Lupin would no doubt then be looking for new employment as well.

“Perhaps a guide dog for a blind troll?” Snape had suggested. “Or guarding a junk yard?”

Lupin chuckled but held Snape in a resentful gaze. “I’m not going to spar with you, Severus. I need your considerable knowledge of potions too much right now. And I don’t need another battle to fight. Just step off a bit. And don’t worry, I’m assuming this appointment is just as temporary as you had hoped.”

Thankfully, Lupin seemed to suffer from another bout of his Lycanthrope during the Christmas holiday, which meant Snape didn’t have to suffer his company during the Christmas dinner. There was only Potter and Weasley and the mentally derailed Sibyll Trelawney to tolerate for a few hours.

Later, Snape found himself pacing about his office. He was out of elf-made and Mock-Thistle Wine and felt the need to take a bit of the ragged edge off. His eyes went to the many potions he kept stored in his shelves when he spotted the calming draught Davindra had made at the beginning of the year. No time like now to test it, he thought. The thick, sweet liquid had a warm and soothing feel to it as it slid down his throat.

As he waited for the effects to settle in, Snape began a scan of the many books scattered about his office in corners and on shelves until finally he found the volume he had subconsciously been looking for, “Magical Medical Mysteries; Muggle Diseases.”

The calming draught pumped through his veins, causing his arms and legs to feel heavy and jelly-like. Perhaps it actually was an especially strong potion. Until it did its worst, Snape flipped through the pages of the book in his lap, reading of the various maladies that magical medicine had attempted to solve for the Muggle world. Finally the subject of cancer came up, and Snape found he had to concentrate to focus his vision and his mind on the words before him. Pressing his cold fingers to his tired eyes, Snape had rested for only a moment when he found himself dragged down into a deep, dark unconsciousness.

Images swirled before his eyes. Scenes from his life came forward and would play for a moment then melt away. Snape saw his father screaming drunkenly at his cowering mother while he hung on to the neck of his young son’s collar and dragged him about the floor. The sting of his father’s slaps were as vivid as if they were being freshly delivered.

Darkness swept over the vision, and a scene from Snape’s teen years at Hogwarts unfolded. He had been cornered by a group of older Gryffindors who proceeded to drag him kicking and screaming to the shower room where he was held under a downpour of ice cold water. Snape felt the breath leave his body at the shock of the freezing deluge.

Again the vision changed to a dark, dank, foul smelling cell in Azkaban. Snape knew what was coming. The shadow of a Dementor hovered over him, and there was a change in air pressure as if a vacuum had been sealed. Nausea, despair, pain, fear, and dread swept over his body. Just as Snape felt he would rather die than continue reliving the horrors of his past, the picture again dimmed and remained black for several blissful moments in which he begged to awaken.

Instead a new, unfamiliar vision appeared before him. Dumbledore and Lupin were speaking with their heads quite close together. They turned as if sensing Snape’s approach. Both looked at him with twisted smiles of distain.

“If only I had someone trustworthy I could rely upon as much as you, Remus,” Dumbledore spoke in a distant sounding voice. “If only James had survived. He and his son together could have ruled Hogwarts at my side.”

“I suggest you purge this place of its undesirables,” Lupin commented in an equally echoing voice. “No need to suffer a coward and a failure.”

Both men took menacing steps toward Snape, but he felt powerless to move away. The nightmare again changed, and now Snape found himself at the feet of Lord Voldemort who looked down with red, glowing eyes and a lipless sneer.

“My most faithful servant indeed,” he hissed. “It seems I have no one I can rely on at Hogwarts to do what needs to be done. All around me is failure. You serve no purpose for anyone anymore. Crucio!”

The intense agony of every fiber of his body being set aflame swept through Snape. He could actually feel his body flailing and twitching and hear his own screams.

The phantasm dissipated, and he was left with the tranquil sight of a Hogwarts corridor. A young man walked ahead, and Snape followed as he turned corners right and left before coming to a door he cautiously entered. Inside a small gathering of young men crowded around something in the center of the room. They parted as Snape moved through until he was standing behind a young man in front of a table. He could see the slender arms and legs of a female wrapped around the boy, which writhed, clutched and caressed his equally undulating body. Murmurs and dull chattering from the group around them seemed to spur him on. But the boy pulled away enough for Snape to see it was Davindra who sat upon the table. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and her skirt was pushed up to her thighs. Tousled, gnarled hair hung in her lust-filled eyes, which she turned to him. Her hand reached out.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said in a husky, dream-like voice. “It’s your turn next, Professor.”

Snape felt his heart beat faster and a cold sweat break out over his body. He told himself to turn away, but he didn’t. He moved closer and closer until her hands latched onto his robes, and she pulled herself against him. Snape screamed at himself that he had to stop. Dual emotions of disgust and desire swam about his mind as he begged for control, though his body charged on without him. The chants and shouts of the crowd grew louder and louder until they drowned out the ethical shrieking inside his head.

Snape felt the medical book slip from his lap and fall to the floor with a thud. His eyes opened to the empty, silent office. He had spent the entire night in his wingchair. It was morning. Weak sunlight filtered through the small, grimy windows, filling the office with an apathetic glow.

He became aware that every muscle in his body ached. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and there was a trace of vomit on his coat as well has his chin. A wretched, sour taste remained in his mouth, and his head felt like it had just been released from a vice.

As consciousness began to set in, a slow rage filled him. Spying the book on the floor, Snape reached down and flung it as hard as he could against the farthest wall. His heart pounded with a fury he could no longer name. Snape sat with his head in his hands. The draught had not been a calming one. Instead it invoked the most appalling, horrifying moments of one’s life, both past and future, and made them startlingly real.

When he stopped shaking and felt sure he could stand, Snape rose from the chair. At the shelf, he found the bottle he had drank from the night before. His first thought was to destroy what was left, but he stopped. Tom Riddle had believed this potion useful enough to catalog it in his book. Madame Collins had thought it important enough to hide. There would be a purpose for this deadly tonic, he realized. It had been tested and found to be a most formidable dark draught.

Snape pocketed the bottle and left his office for his personal chambers, a fresh change of clothes and a very large dose of stimulant serum. He never wanted to close his eyes again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Madame Potion: Chapter Five

2006-12-01T01:13:42Z

Year Three: Memories and Meetings

The news that Snape would not be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts had lost its sting by the time Dumbledore got around to telling him personally. He had sat and seethed thoroughly about the news after Madame Collins had left and cursed the name of Remus Lupin for being awarded what was rightfully his.

Once Dumbledore announced his decision to give the position to the drooling flea-bag, the look of mild interest and contemplative nodding Snape gave had been well practiced and looked authentic. The Headmaster seemed impressed with the grace and dignity in which Snape accepted the news. And yet again, Snape offered his services if the situation happened to change in the near future. With great restraint he resisted adding, ‘Or if the rabid beast manages to rip out the throats of too many students.’

The simple request to borrow Dumbledore’s Pensieve was not hard to broach after being given such a dose of rejection. The Headmaster seemed all too willing to offer anything to soothe the Potions teacher’s insulted pride. Snape made sure to over-emphasize the healing effects the kind gesture had on him. Then he took the heavy, shallow stone bowl and slipped back to the quiet confines of his chambers to see with what exactly Madame Collins had decided to placate him this time.

Snape uncorked the vial and slowly tilted it over the Pensieve. He watched the silver threads begin to pour out and float in a wispy manner until they fluttered into the bowl. Leaning over to peer intently into the pool, Snape began to see images form, and suddenly he was pulled in and down into the memory.

He found himself in the Potions classroom of his youth and Madame Collins standing before Professor Slughorn’s sixth year class as though it were her own. The eyes of many familiar faces were turned to her. Snape saw James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, and several others, including himself, tucked into the back corner. Never before had he realized how miserable and cowering he looked back then. His nose was pressed into a book, and his quill was scribbling furiously as Madame Collins spoke.

She looked much as she did now. Her hair was perhaps a bit darker and fewer wrinkles etched her face. But her voice rang clear, and her manner was as animated and choreographed as he had always remembered. Teaching Potions seemed to make her come alive, and it was no wonder the subject had immediately entranced Snape.

Assigning homework was her last order of business before she dismissed everyone with a flourish of her hands and a bright smile, saying Slughorn would be returning in only a few days time. Snape saw the younger version of himself still engrossed in writing as everyone else began to gather their things and leave.

“What are you doing there, Snivelly?” James Potter approached along with Lupin. “Writing Madame Collins a love note?”

“Instead of sealing it with a kiss, he can just add a grease spot,” Lupin interjected cheerfully, rubbing his newest scar at the tip of his chin.

Potter laughed and nodded in agreement.

The young Snape barely glanced up as he slammed his book shut and began to cram papers into his bag as quickly as possible.

An older, more hardened Snape could only stand back and wish the most vicious curses on the pair as he watched his young self simply glare angrily and mutter foul words as he hurried away from the duo.

He wished he could follow. He wished he could talk to the young man and tell him to not let them see how their words wound and humiliate him. He wished he could give himself the same talk he had given Davindra Collins two years prior. Perhaps he could save himself some of the anguish that was still to come.

Potter and Lupin laughed and elbowed each other in congratulations of their newest insult when Madame Collins stepped behind them.

“You boys can never resist picking on a vulnerable target, can you?”

There was a coldness to her tone that made Potter and Lupin stand a little straighter and exchange self-conscious looks.

“Will you two never tire of being bullies?” she asked, her pale eyes drilling into them. “You are almost grown men and still you want to play senseless, cruel games at the expense of others just to amuse yourselves.”

Snape had always felt that Madame Collins was one of the few at Hogwarts who had been on his side during his education there. But he hadn’t know that she had ever given verbal thrashings to his antagonists on his behalf. It gave him a bit of renewed loyalty to the old woman.

“We didn’t really mean anything.” Lupin tried to speak casually. “Severus knows we’re teasing,”

“He isn’t so stupid to believe you are teasing, and neither am I.” Her reply was firm and clipped.

The boys again exchanged anxious looks.

“We’ll go apologize, if you think we should,” Potter offered, adjusting his glasses in a nervous manner.

“No,” she said, adding a chilly smile. “I don’t think you should bother. It wouldn’t be worth much now, would it? I know there is only a year left for you here at Hogwarts, but if I see or hear of you or any of the rest of your little gang of miscreants bothering Severus Snape again, you will have me to answer to.”

She held their gaze like a vice until she finally uttered, “Dismissed.”

The two seemed to shuffle nervously before they turned to leave the classroom. The book bag Potter carried caught on the edge of a desk as he tried to hoist it onto his shoulder, and the contents spilled onto the floor in a heap.

Snape couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched both boys scurry to gather the items. He wished the younger Snape could have seen what humiliation happened behind his back; it would have done his ego a world of good.

As he looked on, he noticed a familiar book on the floor by Madame Collins’s foot. When Potter went to reach for it, she stamped on top of it, then bent down to pick it up herself.

“It’s just a notebook,” Potter said, hurriedly trying to retrieve it from her hands.

She brushed his hand away as she flipped through the book.

“Memory altering charms?” she read aloud and gave him a curious look. “Branding spells? Horcruxes? Mr. Potter, where did you get this illicit book?”

A look of panic skittered across his face as his mouth struggled to find the right words.

“It’s from the library, I was wanting to check on… ” He knew his lies were not convincing and seemed to give up.

Madame Collins shook her head slowly with a slight smile. “Tell the truth, James.”

The boys again exchanged looks. Snape wondered if they always had to check with each other for reassurance any time one was to express a simple thought.

“Well, I’m not real sure. I think I might have traded for it at Hogsmeade a few weeks back. I… I… I can‘t exactly remember where,” Potter stumbled on pointlessly, again touching his glasses.

She opened the front of the book, and Snape knew she was reading the name of Tom Riddle printed on the inside cover in a scratchy lettering.

“You know a book of this sorts is prohibited at Hogwarts. Perhaps even outlawed by the Ministry itself.” She looked to see if her words had effect on the two before her.

“Look, I might have realized it was a restricted book, but I never thought it would be down right unlawful,” Potter insisted. “I was just curious.”

“You have a book that suggests ways to bind people to evil doings, and you don’t suspect it could be dark magic?” Madame Collins’s eyes widened in mock astonishment. “I could turn you in to the Headmaster or I could turn you in to the Ministry.”

Potter and Lupin looked defeated and desperate. Both seemed to be searching for words to soothe the situation but found none.

“Though, seeing as it is your last year and it would be a shame to nip two such promising futures in the bud, I might be willing to make a deal.” She walked the room with the book in her hand and her eyes shifting about, as if searching out her plan from the heavens.

“I will keep this book and not say a word to anyone else about it if you two promise to never again torment Severus Snape or any other student for the remainder of your time here. After your graduation, I will destroy this work so it will cause no more troubles. But if you go back on your promise and I so much as suspect you of bullying a flobberworm, I will divulge all I know about this book and you two. At that point detention would be the least of your worries.”

Snape felt like applauding. The beaten, forlorn looks on Potter and Lupin’s faces were priceless.

They both nodded to her agreement with mumbled words and downcast eyes.

“Now you may go. You’ll be late for your next class.” Madame Collins discharged them with her cool smile and backward glance as she walked to Slughorn’s desk to deposit the book in a drawer.

Potter and Lupin’s eyes followed the book on its journey, and even Snape could see their brains recording the exact location of their departed tome. But Madame Collins was smart and undoubtedly would find a new hiding place for the book where they would never find it. Such as, in bits and pieces throughout Hogwarts.

The memory ended, and Snape felt himself pulled back up and through the Pensieve and deposited into his chambers.

Though the story of how Madame Collins had come to have the spell book was intriguing, it surely wasn’t all there was to this latest bribe. What exactly her intention was in giving him the memory, Snape wasn’t certain. Perhaps it was to show him the depth of gratitude he actually owed her. If his own memory served correctly, the worst of the tormenting had eased by his seventh year. But also finding that Lupin had knowledge of the spell book, especially since he would be at Hogwarts in the next year, was helpful information. And there was the sheer pleasure to be had from seeing James Potter humiliated and scolded instead of praised and excused.

Indeed the enticement had been an almost adequate salve for the burn of another year of rejection from Dumbledore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape did everything he could to avoid public outings in most instances. But there were times when even he could not avoid venturing out into the world to restock the supplies he kept at his home in Spinner’s End. If he did this task at the beginning of his summer retreat, then he could be tided over until he had to return to Hogwarts in the fall. He chose the time when he was least likely to run into anyone at all, especially someone he knew. Dreary weeknights were the best.

It was a dim, damp evening as Snape walked Diagon Alley. He kept his head low and his steps deliberate. Only a few stops would be required. Hurriedly he did his tasks. His last stop at Mercurial Mercantile took him the longest because he had to argue with the clerk about the freshness of the black widow eggs and the quality of the Mandrake tea. As he gathered the last of his purchases into a bag, he accidentally stepped backwards and into another customer. He mumbled a quick regret, with only a bare glance in the direction of the shopper, when they spoke his name.

A quiet curse was uttered under his breath for being so close to completing his errands without interruption before he turned to face his identifier. A lovely, familiar woman stood before him. She wore a cloak of dove gray trimmed with silver and white feathers. Long, wavy, platinum hair framed a severe heart shaped face and sharp nose. Two wide azure blue eyes held him in an inquiring look.

“Lillyth Sparrow.” Snape unknowingly said the name out loud at the same moment his mind made the recognition.

He had never spoken or been introduced to her, but he had seen her in passing enough to recognize her. And the strong resemblance to Davindra Collins in facial bone structure alone would have been a telling clue. But her appearance threw him for she looked hardly old enough to be anyone’s grandmother, unlike Demelza, who wore the traditional etchings of time upon her face. Snape attributed Lillyth’s youthful look and elegant, quick, bird-like mannerisms to her Veela ancestry .

“I’m so pleased you recognize me.” She spoke with a soft voice and a genuine smile. “We’ve never met, but I feel as though I should know you from all that my granddaughter has told me.”

Snape bowed slightly in greeting and at her gracious words. “Mrs. Sparrow, your talent is recognized throughout the magic world. It would be errant to call myself a wizard of any distinction and not know you.”

Her smile broadened and she stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell a hint of bergamot orange and white jasmine. He found it and the intensity of her eyes quite arousing.

“This is quite fortuitous that I should run into you. Just days ago Davindra was telling me of all the excitement at Hogwarts this past year.”

“Yes, excitement hardly covers it at times.” Snape found he couldn’t help but want to return her gaze and smile. “But I can assure you that your granddaughter was never in any danger.”

“Oh, of course.” Lillyth snaked her arm through his and began to walk them both towards the door as she spoke. “I’ve never worried for Davindra’s safety at Hogwarts. However, I would like a word with you about our dear girl, if you would.”

A spasm of dread and annoyance twisted through his guts as he wondered what this woman would want of him in honor of that child and how she might attempt to extract it. A wicked thought tickled his mind when he considered the infinitely more pleasurable trade-offs he would be willing to make with the beautiful creature at his arm in exchange. He didn’t bother to hide the slight lascivious smile that the ideas spread across his face.

“Oh? And what would that be? For I can assure you that Demelza Collins has been quite persistent in the orchestration of Davindra’s education.”

By now they had made their way down the nearly empty, dark sidewalk and were stepping more and more slowly as they came to the end of the street until Lillyth pulled them both to a stop.

“I can just imagine how involved Demelza gets,” she said with amusement. “Do let me apologize if she’s attempted to run you over with all her meddling.”

‘If you only knew the half of it,’ Snape thought.

“But she does mean well. Neither of us can help adoring Davindra and only wanting the very best for her.”

Lillyth moved to sit down on an bench in front of a closed shop front and motioned for Snape to join her.

“Demelza sometimes forgets that Davindra doesn’t come from the magic world,” she continued. “When she’s not at school Davindra spends most of her time at her parent’s home, a very traditional Muggle home. My daughter, Abigail, did quite well in marrying David Collins, and he did quite well for himself, even by Muggle standards. So you see Davindra gets the best of everything no matter where she is. But she must exist in a dual life, which I believe, is quite difficult for her. I think Demelza forgets this and pushes too hard for her to be immersed in magic at all times. And it’s just impossible for a young girl to manage.”

Snape hadn’t given much thought to Davindra’s life outside of Hogwarts. But if she did come from two Squib parents, then she would indeed spend a great deal of her life living as a Muggle. For a moment he thought of his own upbringing and how he at times also had to straddle the line between the Muggle and the magic world. But he had quickly chosen which life he wanted to pursue and had turned his back forever on the other, purposely forgetting its substance and meaning.

“It’s especially going to be hard for her now,” Lillyth sighed sadly.

“Why do you say that?” Snape asked.

“David’s sick,” she said with surprise at his ignorance. “It’s cancer. And it’s just a heartbreak for the whole family. I’m not sure that Davindra even knows how serious it is. No one wanted to tell her while she was at school. But it’s becoming obvious that he’s very ill.”

Snape thought back to when he had recently spoken to Demelza, and thought that she didn’t look or act like a woman who was distressed over a terminally ill son.

“And how is Madame Collins taking the news?” he asked.

Lillyth again sighed. “Oh, Demelza is being stoic, optimistic and frankly a little dismissive. Either she refuses to believe that her son is actually a frail human man or she…. well, of course she cares!” she seemed to say more to herself than to Snape. “Perhaps it just hasn’t sunk in yet.”

Again she turned her brilliant blue eyes to him. “Davindra is so fond of you. In fact I believe she is quite smitten.”

Snape took in an uncomfortable breath of air. “I’ve discussed that with Madame Collins. I’m sure it is just a temporary teen-age issue that she will outgrow.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve handled this kind of thing before.”

‘Is she serious?’ He gave a cocked eyebrow with his sideways glance.

“I was just wanting to ask that you remember that Davindra is going to be dealing with a lot in the next year,” Lillyth continued. “Her father may not be alive in six months.”

She placed a delicate, ivory hand on his sleeve as she leaned in to him.

“Do what you can to keep Demelza from pushing her too much. I fear that she has put all the hopes and dreams she ever had for her own children into Davindra, and I’m afraid it would be too much to handle even under the best circumstances. Demelza trusts you. Davindra trusts you.” She inched even closer, her face coming sensuously close to his. “I trust you.”

Snape was left with a complicated mix of feelings as she pulled away.

Gathering her pale robe around her, she stood. “I’m so glad we had the chance to meet and to talk.”

He also stood, though thankful for the layers of camouflage his coat and cloak gave to the increasing bulge at his groin.

“Likewise, Mrs. Sparrow. It’s been an honor.”

She smiled and offered her hand to him. Clasping the alabaster fingers in his own, he slowly raised them to his lips and placed a gentle, yet purposeful kiss on the back of her hand. Her eyes stayed on his, and he felt an electricity pass between them.

Without letting go of him, she said, “If there is anything you ever need, Professor Snape, do let me know.”

Before he could even begin to list all his needs that she would be more than capable of fulfilling, she turned and made her way back up the street.

Snape was left with the lingering sent of orange and jasmine as well as a growing desire to release some suppressed lustful tensions.