Dark Coil

Dark Coil

Chapter Nine

The Fat Lady continued to sputter as Snape disappeared into the gloom.

Robes billowing like dark angel wings, Snape flew through the moonlit corridors of Hogwarts. There were no students out this late at night and the halls were quiet where his feet fell. The professor's thoughts were as black as the material that rippled and flowed around his swiftly striding form.

They had been seen!

Some sissified Gryffindor twit had spied on what passed between him and Olivia. Secrets that he had never revealed were out, possibly being snickered at over a bag of Bertie Botts Beans. Snape's stomach rolled in anger and shame.

What could have possessed him to tell that woman of events kept hidden for years? Feelings, memories, they had all been sealed away until tonight, the lock broken when Olivia admitted to failing him all those years ago. She had shed tears for him. Even believing him guilty, she had wept for his fate. Perhaps it had been her tears that slipped that first tumbler in the lock on his most guarded self.

And now his life would be fodder for any fool with ears to listen. His hands clenched and unclenched in impotent anger as he continued through the corridors. If only he could get his hands on the cowardly…

"Aaaaagggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

Snape's enraged bellow echoed off the cold stone and startled Peeves, the poltergeist, who had been busily pulling up the carpet tacks from the stair treads. He rocketed into the nearest suit of armor, cursing.

So great was the Potion Master's momentum that he had to grab the stone posts outside Olivia's door to halt himself. He raised a fist to pound on the door, then hesitated. Hanging on her door was a shining white board, a black pen dangling from it on a string. Written across the slick, bright surface were the words, "I am in! Olivia."

Snape's face contorted into a sick smirk. "Oh, aren't we precious? We sign our name with a SMILEY FACE!"

His fist hammered on the solid wooden panel. There was a quick flurry of sound from the other side, then yellow light leaped from the open door and Olivia was there.

"Professor Snape," she gasped, glancing quickly back over her shoulder. "May I help you with something?" Her light brown hair was unbound, flowing past her breasts. She had changed into a simple night robe of pale green and her face appeared freshly scrubbed. She placed her body in the gap of the door, making it difficult for Snape's sharp eyes to investigate the room.

"I need to see you," he hissed lowly. "Now!"

"I am afraid that now is not a good time," Olivia said in a loud voice, narrowing her emerald eyes dangerously at the glowering man before her.

"This will not wait, Miss McGonagall," Snape ground out through clenched teeth, his hands braced on either side of the doorframe. "I suggest you get rid of your friend and allow me to come in!"

Olivia poked an angry finger into his chest. "Look," she whispered fiercely, "you can't just come barging in..."

"Who is it my dear?" came a familiar voice from the interior of Olivia's quarters.

Scowling sharply at Snape, Olivia called sweetly over her shoulder, "It's Professor Snape, Uncle. He was just telling me how he would come back tomorrow." Her fiery eyes glared meaningfully at Snape.

"Oh, no, dear. Let him in, let him in! We shall make a party of it," was the cheerful response.

A low groan escaped Olivia as, closing her eyes, she leaned her head on the door. Head still hanging, she backed into the room, pulling the door wider. Her right arm flew out in a mocking gesture of invitation before falling limply back to her side.

With a triumphant step, Snape moved across the threshold. Passing Olivia, he heard her snarl, "You behave."

"Madam, I am the soul of propriety," he drawled.

Rolling her eyes and sighing heavily, Olivia slammed the door.

Black eyes took in the room with a glance. Simple yet lovely furniture had been placed sparingly around the chamber, giving the room a feeling of openness. The colors were light and soft, adding to the sensation of space. Two deep wing chairs and a small settee were drawn up before a low-burning fire. Albus Dumbledore's shiny pate appeared around the wing of one of the chairs. He smiled cheerily and gestured to the empty chair at his side.

"Come in, come in, Severus. I was getting ready to leave, but now that you are here, we can share a cup of cocoa. I am an entertaining enough fellow for Olivia, but I daresay she will find your company even more to her liking." Dumbledore chuckled at his own wit and settled back in his chair. "It is late, Severus. What has you out at this hour?"

"I needed to speak with Miss McGonagall about the…" he paused, fumbling for a plausible excuse. Olivia smirked, her arms folded across her chest. "--the Dueling Club," Snape finished triumphantly. Olivia frowned.

"Yes, we were to discuss spells and strategies? But can't we do that later?" The green-robed woman grimaced and jerked her head towards the exit.

Snape merely removed his cloak and laid it across Olivia's shoulder. He spoke to the headmaster, but his eyes were on the vexed woman beside him.

"I would be grateful for the drink and the company." Smiling tightly at Olivia, Snape moved to the empty chair and sat down.

Olivia debated for a second over dropping his cloak to the floor but her fingers stroked its softness and she could feel the heat from his body lingering in the fabric. Carefully, she laid the cloak on the bench by the door and went to prepare the cocoa.

Removing the lid from a large china pot, Olivia tapped the opening with her wand, spoke a word of magic, and milk spilled from the wand tip. She replaced the lid, tapped the wand against the side of the pot, and steam immediately began to rise from the spout. Placing the steaming pot on a silver serving tray along with cups and saucers, Olivia carried it to the fireside and placed it on a small table near the settee. She poured for both men, serving first Dumbledore and then Snape. In spite of her ire, Olivia gave the lanky wizard a tiny smile as their fingers briefly made contact. Filling her own cup, Olivia tucked her legs underneath her as she reclined on the settee.

Dumbledore sipped delicately and inquired of Snape, "What are your plans for the club? I realize we have only been here for a week and that we have all been busy, but have you two spent anytime together?"

Both Olivia and Snape busied themselves drinking, their eyes fixed on the contents of their cups.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked impatiently.

Olivia forced down a mouthful of scalding cocoa. "A bit," she squeaked, still avoiding Snape's face.

"Well, there is no better time than the present, I always say!" Dumbledore put his cup down on the table with a clatter of china, plucked a long white quill from the air and held it poised, silver ink dripping from the tip to hang suspended in midair.

Olivia stifled a frustrated sigh. This was setting up to be one of the best nights of her life.

Even Professor Snape was alarmed and spit a mouthful of cocoa back into his cup. At Dumbledore's questioning glance, Snape snarled, "Hot."

"Mmmm. Yes." Dumbledore murmured, arching a snowy brow.

"Uncle Albus, it really is late," Olivia attempted to reason with him. "We could do this some other time."

"No, my dear. Strike while the iron is hot, you know. We are all here, so let's get to work. Now, Severus, which curses do you…?"

And on it went. For Olivia, each second was stretched beyond imagining. When she had returned to her chambers upon quitting the library, she had planned on nothing more than going to bed and reliving each second of her encounter with the enigmatic professor. She had no sooner shed her garments and slipped into her night things when there was a knock at the door. At first, her heart had slammed into her throat. What if it were Snape? What if he accepted her challenge tonight? Olivia's breathing became rapid and she felt heat rising in her cheeks as her hand turned the latch and the door opened. Her startled, "Oh!" carried a hint of disappointment when she saw Albus Dumbledore.

"You were expecting someone else, Olivia?" he had asked teasingly, then chuckled at her heightened color.

Setting her now-cold cocoa on the floor, Olivia plumped a pillow behind her head and lay on her side. The sofa was short, so she had to curl her legs, tucking the robe over her bare toes. She muttered an occasional, "Mmm-mm," when a comment was directed her way, but otherwise remained silent, her verdigris stare fixed on the reclining figure in the wing chair.

Snape had assumed a posture Olivia guessed was his favorite when relaxed. He reclined far back into the chair, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His hands with those long, slender fingers were folded atop his chest. He and Albus Dumbledore were deep in conversation. The headmaster focused on the unfurling parchment hovering before him, but the younger man's focus was on the woman lying on the settee. Though he responded promptly, his eyes remained fixed on the lovely green eyes just over a meter away.

What are you thinking? he wondered.

What are you thinking? she also thought.

Why did I stop? his mind cried out.

Why did you stop? she shrieked soundlessly.

I can't afford the entanglement, he reasoned.

I want you for my own, she logically deduced.

Why didn't I just shag you and get it over with? his mind demanded.

This is more than just an itch, she determined.

I have to get out of here! Snape declared.

I can't handle this anymore tonight! Olivia decided

"Uncle Albus!"

"Headmaster!"

They both called out simultaneously. The quill fluttered in Dumbledore's hand and spattered Olivia's hearthrug liberally in silver.

"Ye…yes?" Dumbledore replied, startled.

"Uncle, please. It really is late. I am dozing on the couch and dear, dear Professor Snape...well, he..."

"Is tired as well," Snape supplied. He received a grateful smile.

Dumbledore appeared confused for a moment, then muttered, "Oh, well...yes. Since we are all tired, then I suggest we retire. We can finish this tomorrow night, say, right after the evening meal?"

Dumbledore tossed the quill into the air and it promptly vanished. The parchment rolled up tightly, then telescoped in on itself before vanishing with a sharp crack. While the old man rummaged in his robes for his hat, Olivia scooped up Snape's cloak and moved quickly to the door. She turned to find him standing close behind her, his form eclipsing the firelight and casting him in black.

"I must speak with you. Tonight. Now," was his fierce whisper.

He sounded so urgent she only nodded quickly and handed over his robes. Stepping around him, she called, "Uncle, I believe you were sitting on your hat. See, there it is in the chair."

She led Professor Dumbledore to the door and kissed him fondly on the cheek. "Good night, Uncle." Olivia opened the door.

"Good night, my dear." The old man replied stepping into the shadowy corridor. "Coming, Severus?"

"Shortly, headmaster." Snape spoke tersely.

"I can wait if you would li--"

"No!" two voices cut him off.

"Professor Snape would like a few private words, Uncle," Olivia informed Dumbledore.

"Oh?" he inquired, and then, understanding, said, "Oh! Oh my yes, certainly. Go right ahead." And he made his way down the corridor, laughing delightedly to himself.

Olivia closed the door softly and turned to face the disturbing man who remained. "Now, Professor Snape, what has shaken you so badly?"

He closed the distance between them swiftly. "We were seen tonight. In the library!" he informed her, his anger returning.

"What?"

"What? What?" he whined. "I spoke quite clearly! There was someone in the library tonight! What happened between us was witnessed. What was said--" He paused, swallowing, filled with rage. "What was said between us was heard and will be repeated. Now, do you understand, or must I use smaller words?"

"First off, I do not care for your tone of voice or your attitude. I am an adult and your equal." Olivia ignored the tightening around his lips and the flared nostrils that hinted of rage. "If you can't speak to me in a civil voice, then you will have to leave." She looked squarely into flaming black eyes, refusing to be cowed. Finally Snape nodded, once. He turned from her and resumed his seat before the fire.

Professor Snape stared into the flames, the glow in his eyes rivaling that of the embers. He curled his long tapered fingers over the ends of the chair's arms and forced his mind to review in detail the time spent with Olivia McGonagall in the library, conjuring up each word, each touch.

Olivia watched Snape's torment as she gathered the dishes and carried them to the small nook that served as her kitchen. Leaving the washing up for later, Olivia stretched her arms above her head and went to stand before Snape. She pulled a low footstool close to his chair and placed herself on it. Folding her arms on Snape's knees, Olivia laid down her head. "How do you know we were seen? I had been in the library for hours. I didn't hear any one. You are the only person I saw." She could smell that wonderful combination of aromas again, plus his own special, personal scent.

Snape continued to stare at the dying embers. "I heard someone. After you had gone. In the silence, I heard their breathing. I called out, they ran. I could hear footsteps, but I could not see anyone." He slammed his fists down hard on the chair arms. "It was Potter, I know it. Potter and that damned Invisibility Cloak!"

"Well, assuming it was Harry Potter, what did he see really? Two of his teachers sharing time together, kissing, that's all. We are both adults, and human." At this Snape transferred his glare to Olivia and snorted.

"Ok, so just one of us is, that's not the point. We might, might have been seen kissing. Big deal! Maybe, just maybe, our conversation was overheard. What harm is in that?" Olivia tilted her head to one side, studying him, attempting to understand.

"I have never," he growled, "ever spoken to anyone of my time in Azkaban. Never, until tonight. Until you." Closing his eyes, Snape leaned his black head against the chair wing. His mouth was slack, lips partially open. "By tomorrow morning it will be all over the school. A juicy tidbit to chew over with toast and jam," he drawled.

Olivia asked softly, "Why did you tell me, then?"

Snape opened his eyes, gazed down his long nose and whispered, "I don't really know. Perhaps I wanted you to acknowledge what had happened. You have said nothing. I thought perhaps you had forgotten, or worse..." his voice faded away;

"That I didn't care?" Olivia finished softly. "Oh, Severus! I cared. I cared so much it scared me. I recognized you that day in Hogsmeade. I almost apologized right there on the curb. Then I met you again at dinner and you were so wonderful and charming and sweet." She missed the spasm that passed over his face." I didn’t want to lose you. I don't know what I was thinking--that maybe if you knew me better, you would take the news in a more positive light." She snorted and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. "Damn, what is it about you that makes me want to cry?"

They sat in silence for a time and then Olivia pushed herself up. "You have every right to be angry with me, hate me even. I wouldn't be too concerned about what the students think. You come off smelling like a rose!" At Snape's startled glare, she explained. "Falsely accused, wrongly imprisoned. You endured Hell and came out victorious. I on the other hand..." she laughed bitterly; "I am the screw-up that allowed it to happen. If anyone looks a fool tonight, it is me." Olivia locked her hands about her knees and tilted her body back, her eyes blinking rapidly as she fought back the tears. " I just hope that one day you will forgive me."

Silence fell on the room.

The brooding wizard studied the woman sitting at his feet. Her words had drained him of most of his anger. With the absence of that driving energy, Snape felt exhaustion steal through him. She had acknowledged her part in the past; he could do no less.

"Olivia, your apology is not necessary. While I appreciate your depth of feeling, it is undeserved. I cannot let you continue to paint me as the romantic hero of the piece."

Snape captured her eyes, refused to look away from her as he continued, his voice like lead.

"I was not, as you put it, wrongly accused. I was," he paused, " am guilty of each and every act of brutality for which I was charged." Snape watched as disbelief filled Olivia's green eyes. He nodded his head. "Yes, Olivia. I am the murdering bastard, the stealer of souls, the foul creator of dark potions. I am all of that, and more." His velvet voice tapered away as he continued to study her face, wondering at her reaction.

Olivia shook her head in denial. "You were acquitted. Weren't you?" Alarm bells were going off in her head, but she forced herself to remain calm, to keep her thoughts and emotions in check.

"I was not acquitted. I was useful." Snape explained. "Prior to my arrest I came to Dumbledore, confessed to him all my crimes, hoping for…something. Perhaps I wanted him to kill me. Take the information I offered and then mercifully wipe me from the face of the earth. But your uncle can be cruel when it serves his purpose. He let me live. Pity."

"I am trying to understand this." Olivia's voice and face were brittle. "You actually admit to torturing and killing all those men, women and children. You are telling me that you truly labored for Voldemort…" She began to sputter, her mind whirling with the implications. "And Uncle Albus got you off?" She jumped up from her stool and stood trembling before the fire, her arms wrapped protectively about her body. Snape observed her with his researcher's eye, as though she were a laboratory rat. "I just don't understand why…" She raised questioning, tormented eyes to Snape. "Why? Tell me, please."

Snape was startled that she could trust him with the truth. "As I said earlier, I was useful. I had certain information, names, places, and I passed on everything I knew to the Ministry through Dumbledore. He was confirming some information I had provided when my arrest and trial came about. In the long run, it helped my standing with Voldemort that I served some time. It was your uncle's idea actually, that the reason for my release was said to be a legal error, the bungling of the defense team. I was free to maintain my facade as a faithful Death Eater." He pressed the heels of both hands hard against his eyes. His shoulders ached with the effort of holding his body erect. Gods, he was tired!

"So you see, Miss McGonagall, I am no more the hero than you are the fool. We both have roles to play."

"They turned you loose because you sang?" She sounded numb.

"Like a bird, Miss McGonagall."

He slid long fingers through his hair and sighed. "I imagine you will be wanting me to remove myself. I don't blame you." He started to rise from the chair, but found his way blocked by Olivia. She placed a firm, warm hand to his shoulder and pushed him back.

"I don't believe you," Olivia said dryly. At his raised brow, she continued. "Oh, I believe you are guilty. But I am not buying that story about your release. You are holding something back. I don't believe for one minute that the Ministry of Magic cut you loose because you handed over a few more Death Eaters. They wouldn't have let someone like you go even if you promised to fork over Vold--" Her eyes widened. She collapsed back to the stool. "That's it. That’s what you offered them. Voldemort," she whispered. "They sent you back in as a spy. You have been doing that all these years?"

He merely held her green gaze, saying nothing.

"My God, Severus!" Before he could comprehend her intent or voice a protest, Olivia had climbed into his lap, curling her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. This lovely attack set off a silent pummeling of his defenses. The beating of her heart was a battering ram upon the door to his darkest self. Olivia was silent. Her body lay pressed to his, her warm womanly smell rising up to his nostrils like smoke. Snape was surrounded, his every sense besieged by her nearness.

Only her fingers moved, gently stroking the hair on the back of his neck. Olivia could feel the resistance in him; she half-expected him to fly from the chair and dump her on the floor as he retreated. She held herself still save for the tender caress of her fingers.

Snape remained seated, his entire body reeling from the sweet attack being waged against him. He had gone rigid with shock, stunned by her initial barrage, the unrelenting precise application of her weaponry. His fingers remained locked over the arms of the chair and time ceased as she lay nestled on his breast. Slowly, slowly, Snape yielded, and in his surrender, won the day. He circled her with his arms, his fingers trailing along the soft satin armor that afforded her scant protection, but reduced his walls of resistance to dust.

The silence drifted over them, peace moving through the room like a sigh. Olivia deepened her embrace and smiled when he responded in kind. Man and woman blending into each other. Moments passed in restful quiet, the only sound a soft pop, pop from the dying flames. Olivia allowed her eyes to drift shut as she felt his hand move to rest on her upper arm and begin a tender stroking. Caressing, sliding down the length of her arm before lifting to once again to travel its gentle path

Olivia felt herself drifting into sleep when Snape murmured, his voice low and melodic, "I must away. Dawn will be upon us soon. We must rest."

Nodding in agreement, Olivia sighed deeply and rose from his lap. "The students will be arriving tomorrow evening. I still have loads of stuff to get done."

Snape stood up and giving Olivia a small, stiff bow turned to the door. His hand was upon the latch when she called, "Wait, your cloak." Olivia hurried over, his sable cloak lifted in both hands as if she would assist him in donning it. They both hesitated but a second then Snape turned, allowing Olivia to lay the cloak over his broad shoulders and smooth the material down his arms.

"Thank you, milady." He was reaching once more for the door latch when something familiar on the hall table caught his eye.

He picked the object up with finger and thumb. It was perhaps twelve inches long and slender, tapering to a blunt point on one end. From the other end dangled a black silk tassel. It was painted in a slick bright red and had what appeared to be writing running down one side. It was just like the one sitting in the ink well in his private chambers. He held it up for Olivia to see, twirling the slender wand between his fingers, the tassel spinning. "What, " he asked, "is this?"

"Oh, it’s a chopstick." Olivia laughed softly. "You've never see a chopstick before?"

"Should I have?" Snape droned.

"It was given to me by a diplomat from the Chinese Ministry of Magic. They come in pairs, you know, for eating. I lost the other one somewhere."

"How does one eat with a red stick?" Snape sounded as if this were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Well, like I said, you have to have the pair. It's not much use alone. I never used them for eating anyway." At the sight of one brow raised inquiringly, Olivia continued. "I used them to hold back my hair, see..." and plucking the lacquered stick from his fingers, Olivia swept her hair back and up with a practiced hand she twisted and turned the glistening brown rope and secured it to the back of her head with the chopstick. "Ta-da!"

"Hm. I see." Without another word, Snape opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.

Olivia followed him. "Hey, professor. Aren't you even going to kiss me good night?" she called lightly.

Snape froze. Peering back over his shoulder, he snapped. "No, I am not!" He had barely gone two strides when her bell-like voice reached him again.

"How about a hug, then?"

"No!"

"Handshake?"

"Go to sleep!" he bellowed, throwing his fists into the air and striding quickly away from her into the gloom. As he descended the massive staircase to the lower lever, Snape could hear Olivia's teasing laughter behind him, lighting up the night like fireflies.

In spite of himself, Severus Snape smiled.

Author's Note: I know, I know. It is sugary. I promise it will get better. It has been a long time in writing but just a few days have passed in the story. Groundwork has been laid.

"I must away," is Alan's line from S&S. I have always wanted to use it.