The Silver Cauldron

Chapter 26 - Phoenix Tears

I can't remember much after that. I have a few unconnected memories of things which may or may not have happened, but they are so confused...when I was in Azkaban thought never ceased, it just happened, constantly playing over and over the worst things I'd done, like a stuck record. Now I was out it was broken into separate, unlinked episodes that may or may not have had any relevance to each other. I suppose I must have been floating in and out of consciousness.

I remember...a bed in a dimly lit room. A musty smell of herbs was in the air, probably being burnt on the fire. Rosemary, Camomile, Lavender...all healing herbs I thought, and tried to remember what they were used for. But I couldn't. Frustrated with myself for forgetting so quickly I tried to turn over and go back to sleep, but found I could not move. There was a tight pain in my chest and stomach that hurt whenever I moved myself. Frightened, I lay there, holding my breath...

I remember...waking in the middle of the night. He was next to my bedside reading a book from the light of a melted candle stump. When he looked up between pages he noticed I was awake and closed the book with a soft thud. He frowned slightly and touched my brow, feeling strangely warm despite the cool temperature of the room.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly. I nodded. I wanted to ask what was wrong with me, my stomach hurt so much...noticing the panic in my eyes he took a bottle from the table next to me and poured a three of purple drops onto my lips.

"Professor...?" He said nothing but gave me a slight, pitying smile before the sleeping draught worked and I fell into a dreamless slumber.

I remember...waking up suddenly in so much pain I thought momentarily that someone had put me under the Cruciatus Curse. The bedclothes were stripped back and I caught a horrible glimpse of sheets stained with blood. My blood. He was supporting my back and wiping my hot face with a cool cloth...I tried to speak but couldn't. I gazed up at him, terrified, and saw he was crying. Actually crying, real, uncontrolled tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"Philoma..."he gasped. "Philoma, I tried...I'm so sorry..." I didn't understand, the pain became too much for me and I slumped over in his arms like a lifeless rag doll.

I can't remember anything else. The next time I woke up the room seemed lighter and less full of smoke. I sat up carefully and looked around. The sheets of my bed were not bloodstained at all...I must have dreamt it. I hoped I had dreamt it. The walls of the room were mahogany panels, which made it seem all at once dark but comforting. On a table was a menagerie of glass bottles, herbs and goblets. Over a chair was draped a set of dark green robes. The grey smock I'd worn in Azkaban was gone. There was a smart 'click' as the door opened and a house elf entered.

It was surely the smallest elf I had ever seen, scarcely coming up to my knees in height. At first I thought it was quite young, but as soon as it spoke I realised it must be very old indeed - a hundred at least. House elves usually have high pitched, squeaky little voices (their voices do not break until the ripe age of ninety-five) but this elf's voice was very low indeed.

"Miss is awake at last. That is excellent news. I will go and tell the master, he will be delighted." He disappeared in a puff of smoke. Minutes later he was back.

"Miss is to get dressed and see the master in his study in ten minutes. Birry will show you the way."

"Thank you" I said. I was not used to speaking to house elves - we'd never had them at home and the Durmstrang elves had been rather surly beings. The elf bowed so low I thought he was going to hit his little bald head on the floor, before withdrawing and closing the door with exaggerated care.

I picked up the green robes on my chair and put them on, frowning slightly. They fitted perfectly, as though they had been made exactly to fit my figure. They were not, however, practical. They had long sleeves and a slim embroidered bodice tied with black ribbon, beautiful but hardly practical for potions work. Then it came back like a stab in the heart. I was no longer allowed to use magic. Of course the robes were beautiful, all they were for was an ornament, something to be looked at. I bit my lip and looked at myself a mirror on the wall. I had changed almost beyond recognition. My face was so much thinner and paler, making my eyes look absurdly large and watchful. My hair, once so meticulously tied back, fell loose and tangled over my shoulders. I thought of the woman I'd seen in Azkaban...maybe it wasn't quite that bad yet.

I turned away from the mirror. My eyes fell once more upon the little table. I picked up the pestle and mortar lying there and scrutinised the crushed herbs inside...nettle root. 'A powerful blender of compounds when crushed and dried...' It was all coming back to me - I hadn't forgotten it all. I took another bottle from the table - 'phoenix tears'. Phoenix tears! I had never seen such a thing in my life - although legendary for their healing powers Phoenix tears were rare and very, very expensive. I wonder where on earth Snape had got hold of such an ingredient. I returned the bottle carefully to its place. The next jar contained black beetle eyes...a childish glee grew inside me. Nettle roots...and beetle eyes...they were two components a simple light potion. All I needed was the feather of a swallow...there was a bundle of different feathers on the table and I looked excitedly through them until I found the right one. Hands shaking, I poured few beetle eyes into the mortar and ground them together. When they had become liquid I added the feather.

There was a sudden flash, and the bowl erupted into a brilliant yellow flame. I stepped back in triumph. I could still do it! They hadn't beaten me! Then with a sudden horror I thought - what if I was caught practising magic? I panicked and tried to extinguish the flame, but it was too late. The door swung open and Birry entered. I desperately tried to hide the glowing bowl, but it burnt my hands and fell onto the floor. The elf gave a shriek and clapped its hands once. The fire exploded into a golden dust. He ran over and put the smouldering mortar back on the table.

"Miss is foolish! Miss is not allowed to do magic! It is forbidden!" I resented being told off by a house elf, but I knew that in my position there was little I could do about it.

"The master will have to be informed about this Miss! He will be angry! Come, I must take you to him." I sighed and followed the elf into the corridor. The hallway was dark too, with thick drapes obscuring the daylight, but it was perfectly, immaculately clean. We stopped outside a large door and the elf knocked gingerly.

"Stay here Miss" he said, before entering. The door closed leaving me standing in the corridor. I felt stupid. It had been a ridiculous thing to do. I looked at one of the portraits on the wall. It showed a man in his forties with long waist length black hair and grey eyes. He glowered at me disapprovingly. The writing beneath the portrait read ' Salamir Snape'. With a jolt I realised that this must have been Severus' father. The portrait next to Salamir's read 'Cryssandra Snape'. It was empty. It took a moment before I realised the significance of this. She had left him. She must have done. The eyes of Salamir's portrait followed my gaze over to that of his wife. His look became blacker than ever and he turned his back on me. I was about to take a closer look when the door opened again and Birry came out very quickly.

"He is ready for you now miss" he said hurriedly.

"Right" I replied distractedly and went in.

Chapter 27 - The Bracelet

The room was lined with bookcases bursting with aged books. The books gave off a musty aroma; the smell of magic and knowledge. A desk piled neatly with papers and quills stood in one corner, a bronze snake - entwined candelabra casting the only light upon the room. He was standing at the opposite end of the room and did not turn his head as I entered.

"Close the door behind you." I did so nervously.

"Lock it."

"But -"

"Do as you are told" he said sharply. When the key had clicked home he turned to face me.

"Well. You have barely been here a month and have already broken one of the main terms of your imprisonment." I looked at the floor miserably. He raised his voice ever so slightly.

"Have you no idea how hard Professor Dumbledore had to work to get you out of that place? You don't care at all do you?"

"It was only a child's potion" I muttered sullenly. "Hardly dangerous".

"That is not the point. Why risk your life on a silly thing like that? Foolish girl. Don't you know what could have happened?"

"I am not one of your pupils Severus." I said coldly. He scowled.

"Well, your behaviour has been not dissimilar to that of a first year student."

"Oh, and yours hasn't?" I said, losing my temper. "Of course I knew what the price would have been if I was caught. It was a stupid thing to do and I don't need you to tell me that. But how would you feel if your powers were taken away? Where would you be without magic?"

"Philoma, I'm only trying to help you."

"Help? This is help? I don't want your kind of help Severus. You help is slavery." He looked hurt. I knew I was being unreasonable but I felt so utterly wretched...and I couldn't bear his patronising. Instead of retaliating however he just sighed deeply.

"Will you sit down...Miss Almanay?" His tone was so soft I stared at him in shock. He gestured to chair by his desk.

"Please...I have something to tell you." He moved towards me and led me over to the chair.

"Sit" he repeated. I did so, trying to calm myself down.

"What?" I asked warily. He was too close for my liking.

"Philoma...don't flinch away from me, let me take your hand...Philoma, you know you have been ill for a long time?"

"I...I don't know. Have I? I can't remember much."

"Well...Philoma, I'm so sorry. You've had a miscarriage."

A cold numbness had formed around my heart. I think I had known even before he said those words what they were going to be, but the pain was still the same. My child...the child that had saved my life...the hope I had been clinging on to...dead?

"You...you killed it after all?"

"No. No! How could you think such a thing? I tried to save it but there was nothing I could do. For once in my life I failed to make the potion to save it. I nearly lost you as well..." I stared numbly at my white knuckles.

"Then there truly is nothing left."

"There is! But only if you are willing. I...I still want you." His hands closed around mine and I turned my head away.

"I have something for you Philoma" he said. I didn't look. He sighed again and I heard him stand and take a box from the desk.

"Please. Please look." There was a curious energy radiating from his hands as he opened the box. Despite myself I turned and gazed at what he was holding.

It was a silver bracelet. Its light lit the dark corner and manipulated the shadows across his face. A perfect, perfect circle of silver, cool and smooth. Two words, bound together by a trail of Ivy met at the centre and I took it from him to examine them closer. 'Severus...Philoma'. When I touched the surface of the metal it seemed to hum with energy, something strangely familiar but...it couldn't be. Could it? When I turned the thin band over my question was answered...there on the back of the clasp was a tiny crow. I let my breath out slowly.

"Surely this isn't...is it?" He smiled slightly.

"Yes. Made from one of the pieces I found after they had taken you. I had it made into this for when you came out...Highly illegal of course."

"But...why?"

"You know why. Philoma - I want you to come back to me." A lump grew in my throat.

"I am not for sale. I won't lower myself to that. I have some dignity left Severus." His smile faded and he snapped the box shut.

"Fair enough. I thought that losing your powers would make you appreciate the little things I can give you...evidently not. You are happy to be as powerless as a muggle." He stood to put the box away. I felt a pang of pain in my heart.

"No!" Please...please let me just...just see it once more." I wanted that bracelet more than I'd wanted anything else before in my life. He raised an eyebrow.

"Just once more" I repeated. He obeyed and opened the box again, allowing me to appreciate the cold glow, the flawless curve of the colour. I touched it again gingerly, feeling power coursing through my dry veins.

"It appears you aren't as independent of material things as you care to make out my dear." He bent down beside me again.

"I would do anything for you Philoma, if only you would belong to me. Won't you?" I looked into his eyes and shivered.

"I...I don't know..."

"Let me decide for you then." He took the bracelet from its case and slid it over my hand. It felt slightly heavy but beautiful, so beautiful against my skin. He brought it over the Dark Mark on my arm.

"When I say an incantation this bracelet will join and never come off. As time passes it will draw out the impurities Voldemort has cursed you with. A kind of counter magic. For once, your cauldron will work good instead of evil. Do you want that?"

"To be free of the Dark Mark? Of course I want that!"

"All that I ask in return is for you to bind yourself to me. Can you...will you make that sacrifice?" his hands shook a little on my arm. The weight of the band seemed to grow. I wanted to be free of the Mark...but could I join myself to another? Even though I was his prisoner anyway. I stared at the dazzling metal once more...I wanted it so much. Even more than..."

"Yes" I said softly. "Yes. I will".

He took out his wand and held it to my wrist.

"Imparmento!" he whispered. The wings of the crow curled, struck with a blue light, and the bracelet shrank until it was just loose enough to leave a few millimetres around my wrist. There was a slight burning sensation as a trace of blue smoke issued where it touched the Mark. I looked down at my arm; it covered the Dark Skull completely. A hollow emptiness filled me.

"Well. I have sold myself for a trinket. I have done the one thing I always vowed against...I have become your concubine."

"No. You mean so much more to me than that."

"Voldemort...and you. What is the difference in being enslaved to either of you? Tell me that Severus." he frowned a little.

"I love you Philoma." I laughed bitterly.

***

I lay staring into the candle on the bedside table. The chill tightness of the silver bracelet dragged upon my wrist like a manacle. It stood for many things. The Past. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Love. The Future. Ownership. The blackness of the flame nearest the wick flickered a little as he entered the room.

"Philoma?" he whispered quietly. I remained motionless. He sighed deeply. After what seemed an eternity I heard the crumple of his robes as he undressed. A gust of cold air met my back briefly as the covers were lifted. Then I felt him next to me.

"Philoma?" His hand glided around my waist. I continued to stare into the candle flame.

"You're tense. What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing" I replied. He shifted a little, gently brushing my hair aside to kiss my neck. I concentrated my entire being upon the candle, watching the way the fire melted the wax into a stream of pearl that cascaded down the stem like a tear. He stopped abruptly.

"You hate me, don't you?"

"No" I said, gazing at the flickering orange, already becoming blurred, to quench the emotion rising inside me.

"You do."

"I don't hate you Professor!" I cried, and then bit my lip, having broken my concentration. He followed my gaze and irritably snuffed the candle out. I watched the curling smoke rise up, up, up. He pulled me round to face him.

"Professor? Why are you so formal with me? I am no longer you Professor."

"What do you want me to call you then? Master? My Lord?"

"No! Just...call me Severus."

"Yes Severus" I said mechanically. He ran his hands across my shoulderblades, but finding that I made no reaction stopped.

"There is something wrong with you. Why this? Why this awful submission?"

"Isn't that what you want from me?" I said softly. "You want to use me. I can't object. Go ahead. Do it."

"I don't want that."

"Why come here then? Just get it over with." He looked at me strangely and his fingers circled the silver band on my wrist.

"No. I can't...I can't rape you again."

"It's not rape. I agreed to it."

"No you don't. Every muscle in your body wants to push me away." I said nothing.

"Why, Philoma? Why won't you respond to me? Have they killed all passion in you?"

"No" I said. "I just...it could never be the same as it was before. I told you that. Everything's changed between us. My child is dead. Your child. Dead because of our evils."

"How can you talk of before? All the time you were deceiving me."

"No. I was deceiving myself."

He moved away from me and lay staring at the ceiling.

"Why is it that I always destroy the things I love?"