Unfurling of a Rose

Chapter 13

"I'm not going, Marcie," Corielle said stubbornly from behind her four-poster curtains. She had cloistered herself in her bed and had refused to come out all afternoon. Marcie and Lynn and Constance and Anne and Shannon and all the other girls in sixth and seventh year had tried to coax her out, but she had stubbornly--and mildly--cursed them away.

Two hours before departure, Marcie confronted Professor Snape on the matter.

"Have you gotten her out yet?" Professor Snape asked without looking up from the potions he was analyzing.

"She's very... adamant, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow, but still would not leave his work. "Surely, with all your experience, you could come up with a way."

"Well, to be quite honest, she's shielded the bed against spells and she hexes anyone who gets near enough," Marcie replied almost admiringly.

"Tell her," he said, dipping a rod into the solution which he was checking, "I've a woman employed by her aunt and I who will gladly groom and dress her if she would just come down on her own, and if she is not in my chambers in five minutes, I'm coming up, getting her myself, throwing her in my rooms, and locking her in until it is time to leave. Understand?"

Marcie grinned. "Perfectly."

A few minutes later, Marcie was down again, empty-handed. She was smiling even more broadly now.

"I'll be right up, Miss Fireflow."

~888~

Corielle curled into the corner of the bed, her hands stroking the robes her aunt had selected for her, now settled in a small suitcase. They were beautiful. But she just could not go. The thought of what the party meant: dancing, snogging in the corners, in the halls, in the bushes, the pleasure rooms right next door where people like her danced for people like Willem. And what if Willem were actually there?

Her fingers trembled as they tightened on the fabric. How was she expected to go?

Her curtains were ripped aside and the forbidding silhouette of her Potions Master loomed over her. Corielle reached for her wand, but Snape grabbed her wrist and wrenched her from the bed. Encircling her waist with one arm, he lifted her clear off the ground, and with her writhing and screaming and beating his back, he carried her downstairs like a sack of potatoes. He unceremoniously dumped her into his chambers.

"Grow up, Miss Griffin," he snapped, then closed the door. A second later, the suitcase with her robes and their appropriate undergarments were tossed in. The door slammed shut as Corielle hurled herself at it, and she could hear the unmistakable incantation of a very difficult bolting spell.

"Surely it can't be all that bad," said a decidedly German voice from the hearth. A small, lithe lady stepped closer, and Corielle could see immediately that her stature hardly reflected her force of will. She walked as though she were ten feet tall. "Granted, I don't know the circumstances, but I'm being paid, and that's all that matters to me."

"Just what are you being paid for?" Corielle asked suspiciously.

"Why, to dress you for the party. Severus selected me exclusively for that purpose. And I see I don't have all that much work to do, you're a lovely girl. Come on now, let's see the dress robes." She crossed her arms in the manner of a woman who is usually obeyed. Corielle had to suppress her instinct to submit. She glared at the woman.

"Miss Angelina Wagner is never contradicted, Miss Griffin. Open the suitcase and let me see the robes. Now."

Never leaving eye contact, Corielle unlatched the suitcase and pulled out each set of robes, laying them on a sofa.

"Well, you certainly have good taste, these are wonderful. And you'll look wonderful in them." Angelina Wagner stroked the material. Corielle hid her flinch and looked away.

"I've worn them before," Corielle muttered.

"What sort of occasion?" Angelina asked.

Corielle hesitated before saying, "A family occasion."

Angelina snorted. "These sort of robes are wasted on the family; they should be for a beau. Take off your clothes and let's see how you look in this one. Hup hup." She clapped her hands sharply.

Corielle mouthed silently before she finally managed, "I can't. You don't understand."

"Shy in front of someone you don't know," Angelina reassured knowingly. "Don't worry, I do this all the time."

"No, you don't realize... why... I can't..." Corielle looked into the fireplace and focused her growing negative energy into fire. The hearth burst to life.

"A recent break-up, a boyfriend who took advantage of you.... Oh, you poor dear, he's not good enough for you, surely you realize you're better off without him," Angelina said, as though Corielle had been greatly wronged by this boy that Angelina knew everything about anyway.

"No..." Corielle did not want to say. She fought with the impulse to tell me the truth, Corielle, do you want me to...?

Angelina's face looked incredulous that this last worse-scenario had been rejected. "Surely you can't be pregnant, child."

"No..."

"Then what, if I may be so bold, is so bad you can't go to this fantastic party?"

"I can't... say, can't you leave it at that? I can't go! Let me alone, and go about your business elsewhere!" Corielle turned away and burst into tears. "No one can keep from asking. 'Corielle, why do you wear a head scarf?' Did you know I wore a head scarf until a few months ago? 'Corielle, why do you flinch whenever someone touches you?' 'Corielle, why do you step back if I get too close?' Corielle, Corielle, Corielle... Why can't everyone mind their own damn business?" She wiped her eyes. "I hate crying, I'm tired of crying. I've cried enough to raise the Pacific."

A flash of insight, then a softness settled onto the woman's features. "Oh, my dear," she said, reaching out a hand to touch Corielle's shoulder in comfort. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize... that's awful."

"Get your hands off me," Corielle snarled. "Leave me be. Tell Professor Snape I'll heal in my own time, but this is not that time!"

"Well, it's a little late, we're a bit locked in," Angelina said. "Honey," she knelt down next to Corielle, "why don't you try this one party? If you hate it, feel uncomfortable with it, don't go to another one until you are ready, but if you like it, you'll feel much better with yourself. I've known women in similar situations, Miss Griffin. I'm a volunteer at a clinic that specializes in such matters. Try it, Miss Griffin. Try to get used to normalcy. I guarantee you none of the girls in your House worry about such things. Try, Miss Griffin. You'll be with friends who will acknowledge your boundaries, but go and have fun. It can't hurt."

"You'd be surprised," Corielle murmured. I had a family that was supposed to respect my boundaries, lady, and if one had, I would not be in this situation in the first place.

"No, you'd be surprised."

Corielle abruptly reached back and unfastened her robes. They fell to the floor. She untied her tunic and slipped her slacks to the floor. Angelina raised a very well-plucked eyebrow in surprise at the tightly wound gauze around Corielle's breasts.

"You're very thorough, Miss Griffin, but these robes won't allow for it. The undergarments are here for you. I'll turn away if you like."

Corielle did not respond, but began unwinding the gauze. Angelina was ready with the corset and chemise immediately when the last circle of gauze fell to the floor.

"You've an admirable figure, Miss Griffin," Angelina said as she leniently laced Corielle into the corset and pulled the chemise over Corielle's head. "I understand why you hide it, and yet I don't understand. There are women who would kill for such a figure." Angelina then brought the satiny underskirt to her, and Corielle lifted her legs for the soft clothing.

Angelina conjured a mirror that hovered in front of them. "See what a beauty you are? Why should you hide such beauty?" she asked gently. Corielle remained silent as she saw what Willem had seen so many times. What she saw disgusted her, so she kept quiet.

Angelina first picked up black silk robes tight and low cut in the bodice, but frothy in the sleeves and skirt. "It's lovely, darling, but you look like you're going to a funeral. You can wear it for the bastard who did this to you, eh? Let's try the next one."

The next set of robes were a dark red satin that made even Angelina pause before enclosing it around Corielle's slim body. It was off the shoulder with Juliet sleeves and material that pushed her breasts up invitingly. The skirts were full, but they showed the shape of her legs too easily. Corielle turned away from her reflection.

"No," Angelina agreed in a soft voice. "Let's hope the last is the best."

It was. It was a combination of midnight blue crushed velvet and satin, the velvet skirt just brushing the floor, slipping easily into the satin bodice embellished by velvet roses. The sleeves split so that they would not have touched her arms at all had they not been connected at the wrist. The valley between her breasts were still exposed, but the bodice was high enough to afford a little modesty and low enough to leave a little sexy mystery.

"Perfect," Angelina whispered. "Look at you."

Corielle tried to smile. Willem had loved her in this one. Her hair sometimes matched, sometimes clashed with red, but it always complemented blue with a rather striking contrast, and her pale skin seemed all the clearer with the darkness against it. But she still hated what she saw.

"Now, let's see what we can do with your hair."

This took slightly longer, even with the floating brushes and curlers and other magical paraphenalia of Angelina's trade, but in the end, Corielle's hair was braided around her head, then curled down to the small of her back; a few wisps were wetted, then curled around Angelina's finger to frame her face. This in itself took over an hour to clean, soften, braid, and curl.

"Ever considered cutting it, love?" Angelina asked breathlessly after they had finally finished.

"Still considering."

"Mind if I put in my motion for it? It's wonderful hair, but there's an awful lot of it. Almost unmanagable. What do you do with it?" Angelina further arranged a few strands, which Corielle thought superfluous: they were going to get out of place anyway--she would have to move, after all.

"I braid it usually," she replied.

Fifteen minutes later, after Angelina had applied skin moisterizer--the only cosmetic Angelina had felt necessary with the time allotted--Snape entered the room without even knocking.

"How is she?" he asked Angelina.

"Why don't you tell me, sir?" Angelina said with pride. She gestured to the girl seated on one of Snape's chairs.

Corielle did not want to move. The last person she wanted to see her now was Professor Snape.

"Miss Griffin, I must ask you to stand up and face me. The Slytherins are planning to leave in only a few moments; Draco has offered to escort you. Turn around, Miss Griffin." Snape crossed his arms and waited.

Slowly, ashamedly, Corielle stood and turned around. Her head was down, but Snape reached out and lifted her chin until her eyes met his. He gave her an indifferent once-over--or perhaps not so indifferent. His eyes paused a moment on the shadows of her breasts, like any man, but he thought nothing of it. Corielle felt his gaze as though it were branding her. She expected at any moment to burst into flame.

"Well done, Miss Wagner," Snape approved. He tossed her a small bag that clinked when Angelina caught it. "You may go. Come, Miss Griffin, your escort awaits." He made to put a hand on her shoulder. His action made her start forward on her own to avoid his touch, just as he had planned.

"Careful with her, sir," Angelina whispered. "She's a bit shaky right now."

"I'll treat her like china. Happy?" Snape snapped.

Angelina raised her hand in acquiescence.

~888~

The ride to Hogsmeade was difficult for Corielle. They were all crowded into their respective horseless carriages, and it was through sheer force of will she did not strike out at anyone who touched her bare skin. Marcie was on her left and Draco was on her right--safe people, but they drove her crazy. She could not wait to get out and have her own space again.

The trip was agonizingly slow, and Draco soon learned that the beautiful girl beside him would not talk with him, respond to him, or even look at him. He shook his head and told himself not to press the issue. She was strange anyway.

The House of Mirth was a wide two-story combination of inn, brothel, and party house only found in Hogsmeade, each their own separate section. On one side, you could see ordinary people; in the middle, many drunken men and women and their Pilgrims of Love loitered around the doors, striptease music drifting through the open windows; nearest to the students was the party house that usually merged with the brothel to an extent. Every year, Dumbledore made sure that it did not merge for this party. It was an ongoing battle between the proprietess Madam Mim and Dumbledore. Mim maintained that there was nothing wrong with a little fun, but Dumbledore insisted that not all of his students wanted or needed that kind of fun, and many of the parents might protest. Every year, Dumbledore won, but Mim was always conveniently in the background, slipping some of the students to the brothel section if they so chose. Dumbledore sometimes turned a blind eye.

Corielle tried to stay near the walls, but Snape grasped her arm in a tight hand and dragged her to the table where Lupin was already reclining, drinking the complimentary drinks and trying the crackers.

"Sit," he commanded, pushing her into a chair.

"Severus," Lupin reproached. "Join us, Miss Griffin, the food is actually pretty good, and the band's warming up."

Severus sat down next to Corielle and poured her a drink. "It's not poisoned," he said, slightly less forceful. "Strawberry ice cream soma. Mim's renown for it."

"But doesn't soma--" Corielle began, worried again.

"Very diluted soma, Miss Griffin. Relax. Do you think Professor Dumbledore would let Mim serve it pure? We'd have an orgy on our hands. This is just meant to relax you."

Corielle blushed but accepted the drink. She could not even sense an odd taste. Mim, a tall, ramrod woman of extraordinary plainness, gave a small smile as she watched her random pitchers of strawberry ice cream soma pour their less-diluted selves into random people's cups. She wondered vaguely how her plan would go through and smiled at the visuals that emerged.

Corielle, under the influence of the drug, settled back into her chair. The first meal appeared in front of them: a little soup and salad course. For entertainment, an obscure light band consisting of only vocals and drums sang as an extra man conjured up strange tendrils and globes of light across the room. The lights would sway and twine between and through people, changing color to the beat and mood of each word.

Jesters and jugglers paraded about, mimes walking nowhere, and instruments playing for small audiences. Corielle had never experienced such languid chaos, and she would have fallen asleep in her chair had not several people asked her to dance. She was so at peace, she would even sometimes let them pull her closer than she had ever let anyone do. Her hips rubbed against others, and her arms wrapped around necks, and her body swayed sinuously to the music. She never could remember who she danced with, she just knew later that she was more drugged than she was supposed to be.

Draco saved her with his experience in the trade. He noticed the torpor that had settled itself on her limbs and led her to a nearby seat.

"Corielle, can you hear me?" he asked in concern.

"Mmm," she said to his shoulder.

Draco cursed and took out his wand. "Revivo," he whispered, and her eyes opened wide. "It's enough to keep you awake anyway. Can you hear me?"

Corielle looked at him oddly. "Of course I can. Why?"

"You've drunk too much soma. I recommended the butterbeer from now on," Draco answered.

"I drank one glass," Corielle insisted.

"One glass too many," Draco said. "Some people just can't take it. But you can take the butterbeer, can't you?"

"I've taken it before."

"Good girl." Draco looked around, spotted Snape and Lupin discussing something, and put his arm around Corielle's shoulders to lift her to her feet. "I'll ask Professor Snape to help you." He tightened his hold as her legs shook. He looked at her curiously. "Even mildly undiluted soma shouldn't do this to you," he mused. He led her to the table where Snape and Lupin were talking and sat her down. Her legs buckled, and Draco had to tighten his hold around her shoulders to keep her from falling to the floor.

"Professors, sorry to interrupt, but Corielle seems to have... er... become unintentionally inebriated. That's soma that's done it. And she doesn't seem to be all there." Draco gestured to the way Corielle's head was beginning to roll and the glassy cast to her eyes.

Lupin shook his head. "Really, Severus, she did not need that much to relax her."

Snape blinked, then took his pulse. "Damn that Mim woman, she's done it again. I thought I was unusually mellow tonight. It would have taken ten times the amount I imbued to have me this talkative. Why didn't you notice, Remus?" He stood and righted Corielle's head, which had begun to fall to the side. His fingers brushed the soft curls of her hair, and the effect was startling. He jerked his hand back. "I'll kill the woman," he hissed, looking at his hand. "First, I need to have some sort of counter to the effects, a sour... citrus... lemonade, iced lemonade. And I need to speak to the Headmaster. He'll need to be aware of the situation...." And he swept through the crowd, with many of the students giving him wide berth on account of the murderous glint in his eyes.

Lupin hid a smile. "He was more talkative than usual. At parties like this, it's all I can do to get him to grunt. Careful, Miss Griffin." He held her head up. The touch of her hair did nothing to him. He never drank soma if he could help it. The results on a werewolf could be bestial. "Draco, did you Revive her?" The lines on Lupin's face deepened as he realized how far under Corielle had gone. "Miss Griffin?" He shook her. "Corielle? Severus!"

"Wait, Lupin, I'm coming," Snape said, leading a waiter to the table. "Feed her the lemonade, I'll go murder Mim now. Undiluted soma shouldn't have her falling into unconsciousness, which tells me she has nothing in the way of tolerance. Mim could have killed her. Quickly, man, unless you want Abigail to come after you." He headed back the way he had come.

Lupin took one of the glasses of lemonade and held it to Corielle's open mouth. "Help me, Draco," Lupin said urgently. Draco put a strong hand around Corielle's neck and grasped her chin to keep her steady. At the taste of the lemonade, Corielle began gulping like she had not had drink in weeks. Almost immediately, her awareness increased and her bright eyes opened. She took the drink herself and finished the glass. When she took the rim away from her lips, she was breathing heavily.

"What happened?" she asked, dazed.

"You're vulnerable to soma. This is a sign to avoid it," Draco said in Trelawney's misty voice, trying to elicit a laugh. He got a smile.

Snape, meanwhile, had reached the Headmaster, who was now shaking his head.

"I was expecting something like this, but I didn't think she'd actually do it. Or that it would have such dire consequences. We are fortunate you knew the counter. But Mim needs to know what she's done. Have you seen any other signs of students under the influence?"

"Everybody seems to be having a good time. Is that a sign of soma ingestion?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Talk to Mim, warn her of what could have happened."

"Why don't we wait until the end? Watch and see whether she decides to do something else. The way Miss Griffin reacted to the soma, even with the diluted drug, something would have happened. This is not really Mim's fault. I'll watch her like a hawk to see if she plans anything more drastic."

"Whatever you think is best for your students, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly. Snape felt there was a reprimand in there, but he could not quite find it, so he returned to the table with Draco, Lupin, and a now fully awake Corielle.

"Would you like some lemonade, Severus? It's affecting you, too, and I expect you feel embarrassed that you are actually enjoying yourself." Lupin held a glass out to him, still trying to hide a smile.

"You're worse than the students, Lupin, and no, I'll have no lemonade. If I'm going to experience drug-related relaxation, I might as well live it as it lasts."

Lupin could no longer hold back laughter, and Snape glared at him until the coldness seeped into Lupin's consciousness.

"Sorry, Severus, you're just so stiff sometimes. It's interesting to watch you," Lupin explained.

"Yeah, Professor," Draco added, "I've never seen you like--"

Snape turned the glare to Draco, and the boy halted. "Why don't the both of you take a leaf from Miss Griffin's book? She has wisely said nothing."

"Thank you, Professor," Corielle ventured.

"And you were doing so well, Miss Griffin. You're welcome."

Lupin shook his head in amusement. "We were just talking about Apprenticeship with Corielle."

"Have you proposed? Many happy regards to you both."

"Severus, I've rarely heard you in such good humor."

"Quiet, or it will be no humor at all."

"I thought you had a proposition as well."

Snape sighed and rubbed his head. He was becoming languid, a state of being he had not experienced for decades. "Have you accepted Lupin's Apprenticeship proposition, Miss Griffin? You would be wonderful in the field."

"I have," Corielle said lightly. She was still quite in the grips of soma, and the drug loosened her tongue to a degree. "And I would love an Apprenticeship in Potions as well. I enjoy our lessons."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Lupin was purposely looking the other way, biting his tongue. "Two Apprenticeships in one year is almost unheard of."

"Almost," Corielle repeated with emphasis. "Then again, so is tackling several years of magical lessons in less than half a year."

"True," Snape assented. "Do you feel up to the task? It requires more of the practical lessons in both subjects. If you do ridiculously well, you won't even have to take the N.E.W.T.s in those subjects, but receive full marks. You do have extraordinary potential in both fields. I encourage you to experiment. Would you like the Potions and Defense Apprenticeships?"

"I would be honored, Professor," Corielle said solemnly, but truthfully. Draco snorted into his glass of butterbeer. Lupin, Snape, and Corielle stared at him.

"I'll just..." Draco began, standing up and escaping from their intense gaze.

There was a fairly companionable silence.

Then, "Mim's up to something." Snape stood up.

"How so?" Lupin asked.

"She's got that smile," Snape said, making his way to the proprietess.

"Why, Severus, it's been so long," Mim exclaimed, holding out her hand.

Snape ignored the hand. "What are you up to, Mim?"

"Up to, Severus?" Mim asked innocently.

"Inviting your whores in or... drugging the students, perhaps?"

"Now, Severus, how could you possibly...?"

"One of my students almost slipped into a coma because of your meddling."

At least Mim had the decency to look shocked. "I've never met an intolerant before. I hadn't expected..."

"Obviously. Now what are you planning?"

Mim gave a seraphic smile. "It's too late."

"What--?" Snape said.

Then the lights went out, and he could feel himself being Transported. It was a weak spell, and by the noises around hiim, he was still in the room. But the lights were still out.

Snape began walking to orient himself, and he ran into a thick curtain.

"Enjoy yourselves," a sultry voice whispered over everyone's heads. And from the sounds of things, many anonymous couples had obviously taken advantage of the situation. Also from the sounds, Snape deduced that his and Corielle's pitcher was not the only undiluted soma. The heavy, passionate breathing of a lovers' embrace was magically magnified as well as whimpers and groans and proclamations of pleasure. And Snape could hear breathing in the own small makeshift room Mim had provided for the random couples. There was a sense of anticipation and apprehension in that breathing. Snape turned to it.

His hand brushed satin. No help, there were many satin robes. But with his own soma working on his body, the contact stirred him in ways he could not have fathomed outside of the influence. He gave a great intake of breath, and his hand found a thin, feminine wrist.

His reason begged him to stop for professorial propriety's sake, but his reason was pushed aside by the sudden rush of physical desire that he had not felt in so many years. The smoothness of her skin was heaven to the callouses from potion burns, and he trailed the fingers up the bare arm. The girl's breathing quickened, not entirely in fright. He could feel the puffs of air on his neck, the scent unexpectedly sweet. His fingers brushed more satin on the shoulder, and he stroked it with the pleasure of a man who loves the finer things in life. Her hands reached out, possibly to push him away. They rested on his chest. He sensed her indecision. He denied her thought as he leaned over and pressed his lips against hers.

~888~

Corielle shuddered at the first touch of his lips. He stroked her hair to calm her, but his fingers tangled in the curls, enjoying the feel of her. His kiss was slow, patient... irresistable. Even as her past self cried out against the position in which she had found herself so many times before with her uncle, her present self ignored it as unfamiliar pleasure grew from the contact. She pressed her lips closer to him, inhaling his scent, more herbal than anything, but with an undertone of strong soap.

Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, brushing the hair there. Even that did not alert her to the illicit possibilities of who this mysterious man was. By now, Corielle was beyond caring.

His mouth parted as his tongue slid against her bottom lip. Corielle gasped, permitting the most glorious intrusion she had ever experienced. At his persistence, she moaned in exquisite pleasure that sank lower and lower in her body. A hand rose to cup her breast, rubbing her nipple with a thumb and caressing the exposed skin with his forefinger. His other hand slipped over her buttocks and pressed her against him. Her arms wrapped completely around his neck, and she fell into an oblivion of sensuality Griffin had always taken but never gave.

Then his mouth drifted from hers, gracing her chin, her neck with gentle, nipping kisses that made her shiver deliciously. This was a man who wanted to give as much as he took, and she would not disappoint him. Her hand massaged the back of his neck and the sensitive area right under his ear until he purred against her throat. She licked the shell of his ear and blowed softly. His mouth drifted lower, pulling the bodice down as far as it would go. It would not quite release where both of them wanted it to, but the man's administrations were still so pleasurable her knees nearly gave way. He laughed in his throat, and the vibrations ran through her body in waves. He held her closer as his mouth returned to hers, his tongue entering her mouth in an inexplicably sensual rhythm until she was clinging to him, whimpering for more of the feeling that was escalating within her.

Then the lights came back on.

She kept kissing him, not wanting to open her eyes, but the light startled her, and her eyes reacted with a blink. She caught a glimpse of black hair and black dress robes. Corielle jerked back in horror and her reasonable self restrained by soma returned with a vengence. She muffled a scream behind her hand, and she stumbled backward.

"This is all a man really wants from you," Willem said as he shoved himself into her.

How could she?

"And this is all a woman really needs."

With her own Head of House, her Potions Professor, and her mentor! He said he'd never... she knew he'd never... She saw the dawning comprehension of what he had done, and the drugged glaze over his eyes sharpened. He opened his mouth to calm her, but she gave another little scream and ran through the still standing curtains. She saw Marcie and Vic still coupled on a table. She saw Professor Dumbledore and a Hufflepuff sixth year having an in-depth conversation on how difficult the Charms N.E.W.T.s were. She saw Lupin drinking butterbeer on his own, and he saw her. She sharply turned away, avoiding his eyes that could so easily see her thoughts and that could see her tears without that special sight. She plunged through the entrance into the night, never minding the freezing rain or the people walking the streets at this time of night.

~888~

At first Snape had just yielded to his desire, and when he first felt the petal softness of her lips that only grew more velvety as he kept kissing her, he wondered from her innocence whose chick he was ravishing, for the smoothness of her mouth could only belong to one of the students. Then, as he continued to kiss and caress her, and as she began to succumb to him, he wondered whose girlfriend he was ravishing. Then, as her sighs progressed to moans that seemed to reach the most primitive center of his body and her hands rubbed all inhibitions away, he wondered whose whore he was ravishing. He knew Mim sometimes let them through, and some of them were quite young. Then, when the lights came on and he saw her, even then, he had not wanted to let her go. She had stoked his long dormant passion that he had shut away after his enslavement to the enchantress, only letting it out briefly and sparingly when he would go to the darker side of town, and it took hold of him like a berserker indulges to his most savage wants. He knew it was wrong, but rules had never seemed to stop him before, had they?

When Corielle had pushed away, then the awful truth of everything had shocked him sober. He should have known that the undiluted soma would have done more than relieve his stress, but he had had no idea that it would loosen his personal restrictions as well, inhibitions that he had held since joining Dumbledore and the Order. That soma had done that almost scared him, until he realized something that filled him with more than horror, but loathing: It was not just the soma that had taken hold of him, but Corielle herself. Even now, stone sober, he still wanted her.

But you can't have her, he told himself firmly. Just set it aside, Severus, and never let it intefere again. He would just let his practical self reign until her graduation. If only it were so easy. At least he could hide his desire from her. He was sure he had already scarred her beyond repair. And after he had worked so hard at stripping her unnecessary defenses away, now they were once again necessary, because of him. He could kill himself for that, for destroying what could have been great.

He would have to take responsibility for his actions. He was no longer the adolescent in the enchantress' cave. He had been trusted by Dumbledore, by Corielle, and he had betrayed that trust. It would not be so easily given again.

He ran after the girl.

And ran into Lupin.

"Corielle was crying, Severus, do you have any idea...?" Lupin drifted off as he saw the anguish in his normally unreadable enemy's eyes. "You... but... everyone... you couldn't... you bastard!"

"Save the insults, Lupin. I'm going after her."

"You'd very well better. Do you know the people who walk through the streets of Hogsmeade at midnight, Severus?! What do you think they would do seeing a girl like Corielle? I'll bet they'd do a hundred times worse what you've done to her, and it will all be your fault. You'd very well better go after her," Lupin shouted at Snape's back. How could he? he asked incredulously. How could he?

Snape exited the building, avoiding the calls of the Pilgrims next door and searching the streets for Corielle. He could not see her at all. He squinted against the rain.

"Miss Griffin!" he called. No answer.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched shriek coming from the third street. He ran toward the sound.

"Miss Griffin!"

Another scream. It came from one of the alleyways. But which one? Another scream. Three alleyways to the right. Snape darted to the entrance and plunged into the darkness. He heard voices.

"I caught her, Nob," said a high, grating voice.

"There's enough 'ere for two. We've ne'er caught one so fine as this," said a second voice, lower than the first, and more gravelly. "Looks like she knows where she's at."

Snape could hear her struggling against a hand on her mouth. Something struck a garbage can, causing it to clatter on the stone flags.

"Hold on, Miss Griffin," Snape whispered. "Lumos!"

"What?!"

The tip of his wand illuminated the scene, showing two dodgy characters with their arms around Corielle. The one named Nob has his hands on her mouth, a finger inside of it, the other hand on one of her breasts. The unnamed man held the other breast while his sinister hand plunged between her legs. Her eyes were wide and more angry than frightened. She bit Nob's finger, causing him to cry out in pain and let go of her. He held his hand up to the light.

"She bit to the bone, Bennie, she bit to the bone, the slut," he moaned. "M' poor, poor finger."

"Shut yer trap, Nob, and grab the girl again," Bennie shouted, quickly, pulling Corielle further down the alley and away from the light. Nob followed, still squealing in pain and indignation. Snape rushed after them, but they had gone into one of the building. There were several abandoned stores along this lot, and Corielle could be in any one of them.

"Professor!" she shouted, panicking. Snape followed her voice, his wand still giving light to his way. He opened a still swinging door and caught Nob and Bennie with Corielle.

One of them had ripped her bodice so that although her breasts had not fallen out completely, all three were given a very revealing view. Bennie had straddled her to keep her lower body still and was unzipping his trousers. Corielle's skirts had already been pushed up her thighs. Nob was kissing her like he was consuming her mouth, but Corielle kept biting and kicking until Nob was wiping the blood from his lips on his shirt. Bennie, however, was unaffected by her protests, and his erection was almost free.

"Crucio!" Snape shouted, with no care at all of the consequences. Bennie gave a shout and began writhing where he was, gripping Corielle's waist with meaty hands. Corielle twisted out from under him, but Bennie kept screaming and pushing at invisible attackers. His flailing arms hit Corielle in the face, and she fell backward against a pile of crates. With a cautious look at Snape, Nob ran over to her and began dragging her by the hair to another room, her screaming and clawing all the way. Snape released Bennie from the curse, and though Bennie was weakened, he stood and charged at Snape. Snape was caught unawares and took a fist to the mouth. But the former Death Eater again pointed his wand at the man and said calmly, "Sanguinus primo." The Hemorrhage Hex would only last so long, so Snape left the man to his internal bleeding and went after Nob.

Snape found the ratty man in the next room, his arm around Corielle's shoulders, restraining her while his teeth bit firmly into the gentle skin of her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Corielle kept her mouth closed, but she was struggling like a wild cat, which only succeeded in augmenting the man's passion. Nob pawed at her skirts, ripping them apart in earnest as his mouth closed over the crest of her breast, the fabric of her robes folding over. Snape pointed his wand at the Nob, shaking in fury, but Bennie pushed him forward and to the ground.

"Impedimenta!" Snape shouted. Bennie froze, his eyes savage under paralyzed lids. Then Snape lunged for Nob and drew him back as the man's hand went under Corielle's torn skirt. He forgot his wand and began choking Nob, the skinny man's lecherous tongue--bleeding from Corielle's protests--probing the air for breath. Bennie broke from the spell and attacked Snape from behind, hitting him over the head. Snape collapsed, his eyes blurring. It was not even enough for unconsciousness, but it rendered him useless for several minutes, minutes during which Corielle could be raped and murdered.

Bennie and Nob turned to Corielle, but she had stood, eyes almost glowing with hellfire.

"Don't worry, Professor," she said in a clear voice. "Just don't move."

The air around her quivered, and from her shoulders and head came a flurry of gigantic wings. The light from Snape's wand had gone out went Snape had hit the floor, but now an emerald light emitted from Corielle, and an eagle burst from her body, a giant harpy eagle with luminescant green eyes and an incandescent gleam to its feathers and talons. Its appearance resembled that of a Patronus, but the lines were too clear and the presence too real. It gave a wild cry and dove toward Bennie and Nob, its talons clutching their heads and pokingat their eyes, causing a flood of blood to flow down their faces. They gave a high-pitched scream, then fell to the floor from the weight of the bird. At their fall, the bird plunged its beak into their flesh and began to eat, occasionally giving a cry like a banshee through the echoing rooms. Snape recognized the bird, though it had been radically different when he had seen it last. It had been when Corielle had first been raped by Griffin when Corielle had been ten years old. It had only been a sparrow then. How her magic had grown. Snape flinched and looked at Corielle.

She was standing still as a statue, her face strangely pale and drawn and her eyes still glowing. Her skirts shifted from the wind from the eagle's wings, revealing her legs and giving glimpses of her breasts from the loose folds. She made no attempt to cover herself; she looked like some malevolent Greek goddess. Snape could not tear his eyes from her, even as the harpy gave another shriek and flew to him. Finally, the eagle landed protectively in front of the girl and glared at him. Snape stared back. The harpy cocked its head, then nudged Snape with its brow in farewell. It flew up and settled back into Corielle.

"Professor?" Corielle muttered, blinking.

Snape tried to get up and found he could. He retrieved his wand and surveyed the scene. Bennie and Nob had been partially eaten, and blood was beginning to puddle around them. Neither was breathing. He turned back to Corielle. She had pulled the ends of her bodice together and was looking at him with one blackened cheek. Her eyes began to glaze over, the light dying.

"Professor, what just--?" She fell forward.

Snape caught her before her face would hit the hard wooden floors. His hands brushed her breasts, and he gave a great intake of breath before steeling himself to pick her up. He did so and took her from the building, leaving the two men behind. Let them rot.

Lupin met him outside the House of Mirth.

"Is she... oh, god of war, what--?" Lupin began.

"Two men found her," Snape said curtly.

"You're hurt," Lupin added mildly, noting the blood dripping from Snape's mouth and nose.

Snape dismissed the concern. "I'm taking one of the thestrals back to Hogwarts. We'll get there more quickly. Tell the Headmaster."

"Where are you going to keep her?" Lupin asked, accusingly.

"My rooms, where else? I have better medical facilities than Madam Pomfrey, and she needs to stay away from everyone while she can."

"She needs to stay away from you. I can't believe--!"

"Silence."

Lupin was startled to dumbness at Snape's manner.

Snape shifted the unconscious girl in his arms. "Look at her. She needs warmth and medical care, and I don't want Madam Pomfrey asking questions, and I know Corielle doesn't want her asking questions. I need to account for my behavior with her, so being with me is best. You don't like it, tell the Headmaster."

Snape turned on his heel with his sullied robes swirling at his feet and headed for the carriages. He had always seen the thestrals, ever since he first came to Hogwarts as a first-year. He mounted one after releasing the reins from the carriage, still holding Corielle in his arms. The creature unfurled its wings and lifted them all into the sky.

As they were leaving the village, Snape heard the oddest thing wafting up to the sky, even as the rain because snow. It was so odd because the holiday itself was rarely celebrated in such a fashion due to the general animosity between the conflicting ideals. But still Snape heard the song just the same, and he took it as a favorable omen. Corielle would be okay. It was only then Snape realized Corielle was not unconscious, just sleeping. She was exhausted. He spared himself one hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face and listened to the carol.

Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright.

Round yon virgin, mother and child

Holy infant, so tender and mild.

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Sleep in heavenly peace.