Guilty Conscience

She lay relaxed in sleep, breathing softly, oblivious to the unfriendly gaze bent upon her from the shadows by the wardrobe.

It had been a slow and virtually silent Apparation - no flashy bangs and swishing currents of air. Just a low rushing boom, indistinguishable from the sound of the vehicles speeding past on the road outside and a gradual coalescing of darkness as the tall robed figure gathered and took form. in a masterly demonstration of controlled power.

He looked around the room. The other side of the luxuriously appointed bed was empty and the corners of his mouth lifted for a moment before his lips resumed their implacable lines. It was the work of a moment to shed the robe, to shake the long black curls down around his shoulders and to step forward into the faint light from the window. There, wand in hand, he spread his arms and gave a long slow moan.

The figure in the bed stirred, her head rolling restlessly on the pillow, but she settled again, flat on her back, lips parted. There was a soft snore.

He grunted and frowned. He took a step closer and moaned again. The sleeper snorted and her eyes opened a little but they quickly closed and this time he lost his patience and leaned forward and jabbed her sharply with his wand. She started and moved restlessly, eyes opening more fully. "Wha...?" she began then sat bolt upright with a strangled squeak of alarm. He opened his arms, swaying slightly, fixed a baleful glare upon her then pointed an accusing finger.

She shrank back against the headboard, tugging the sheet up to her chin as he approached the bedside. The dull orange streetlights gilded the tall figure before her, sheening the broad chest, taut belly and...oh lordy. Her terrified eyes snapped hastily back up to fix upon the long tumbled hair and a face that brought her heart into her mouth. Pale, rather hooded eyes glinted and the grim mouth opened to speak.. He made no sound but she could read his lips easily.

"Murderer!"

"No...no," she protested. "I'm sorry. It was necessary for the plot - that bit when Harry has to - you know. It wasn't murder...it was literary expediency - that and the fact that Gary Oldman refused to commit to more than two movies. No, not murder!"

The accusatory finger didn't waver by one iota and she burrowed back trying to force her shoulders through the bed head.

"Please, leave me alone. No!" That last was a suppressed shriek as he lunged towards her, his hands bracketing her shoulders and his face now inches from her own. "No, please, don't." Her eyes were fixed on the lips a few meagre inches from her own. "Oh," she moaned, "if I'd imagined you looked like this I'd never have done it."

The lips moved again.

"Reparation? What...what must I do?" she begged.

His eyes bored into hers and her nostrils were filled with the scent of warm clean flesh and a sweet buttery slightly alcoholic smell. She watched his mouth closely as his lips slowly and lovingly shaped the task that she must perform to be rid of this terrifying and disturbing visitation.

"Kill...Snape...in...Book...Six."

"I can't do that!" she wailed and jumped violently as he stood up and shrugged.

"Ah well, it was worth a try," he said cheerfully, his hands on his hips. Then he caught the direction of her gaze and shifted lasciviously. "Like what you see, eh? Sorry, doll, all this could have yours but you threw it away." He grinned. "This dog, " he said happily, "has found a better home! Loser!"

With that he snatched up his robe and Disapparated with a 'pop', leaving her gasping

"I'm scheduled to do it in Book Seven," she said hopefully to the space where he had been standing but he didn't come back.

*

Back in the pub the wake was beginning to get a bit uproarious. Most of the lady fan fiction writers were well away and one of the older ones was being gently dissuaded by Remus from teaching them all a song about an Eskimo. As he entered the room Bill gave a cheer.

"Yay, let's hear it for the corpse!" and they all burst into applause apart from Severus who scowled and said testily "Where the hell have you been, Black? It's your round."

"I," he replied, slipping his arm comfortably around a delicate blond, "have been for a Jimmy Riddle and I ordered the drinks on the way back.."

"Well, I'm not fetching them," Severus growled. He had been snarling all evening, but Severus had never taken well to disappointment.

"Jimmy Riddle?" Remus asked, puzzled and his companion grinned and whispered in his ear. "Ohhhh, I see, it rhymesh. Yes, Sev, fetch the drinks and don't be such a merchant banker."

After the laugh died away, Sirius, who now had the blonde nestling in his lap had an idea. "Hey, shall we pick up a takeaway...I could murder a Mermish...and go back to my place? I've got a couple of bottles of Ogden's just begging to be drunk.."

The idea was greeted with almost universal acclaim apart from Severus who, naturally, preferred the idea of Thaigoblin but he was shouted down.

The party continued until dawn and, as Sirius rubbed his aching head and filled the kettle ready for a reviving shot of caffeine, he reflected that his next wake was unlikely to be a patch on this one.

Meanwhile, in another universe not a million miles away, a disturbed and weary author sat at her desk with her head in her hands perusing certain pages in her latest work and whispering sadly "I really wish I hadn't done that."

**

But she did! The daft bat! So now he's ours, all ours, and we can do exactly what we want with him. AU here we come!!