Unfurling of a Rose

Chapter 14

The thestral landed softly on the grass and stood still while Snape slid off with Corielle. It seemed to instinctively know when they no longer needed its services because it flew to the Forbidden Forest just as Snape began his ascent to Hogwarts. He hoped no student with insomnia decided to look out the southward windows.

He entered the castle through the bottom-most door which he used to employ during his espionage days--they led straight to the dungeons, and it was only a few twists and turns away that he came upon the Slytherin entrance.

"Nuckelavee," he said, and the wall opened for him. One quick glance told him that there was no one but the Bloody Baron in the common room. The Baron looked up from his spot in a chair and nodded silently. Snape returned the gesture before entering his own quarters and locking the door.

A squeak from the corner made him raise his eyes. Their intensity frightened one of the house elves that had tried to take advantage of his absence to clean the room without Snape's notorious scrutiny.

"You," Snape snapped, "draw a bath, a hot bath. Bring some tea, and get out."

"Yes, sir," the house elf said, giving a quick little bow before running into the bathroom. Snape only dared to relax when he heard the water running. Five house elves came running into the rooms carrying a tea tray filled with hot tea and steaming blueberry scones. Snape rolled his eyes at their general extravagance then bit out a tart expression of gratitude before kicking them out.

He pushed his bathroom door open with his shoulder and found the house elf building up the bubbles. Snape snorted, and the house elf ran through the wall to escape. It was then that Snape was presented with a singular problem: how he was going to go about putting Corielle into the bath. He could not very well remove her clothes after what had just happened, not even if he felt impartial--which he did not--because she most definitely did not feel impartial. And he hesitated at putting her in the water in full attire, however torn that attire was.

She shifted, revealing half of one breast, and Snape made up his mind. He let down her legs and guided her limp form into the tub. She began shivering almost immediately from the initial shock, but the spasms slowed as her body became used to the heat. Once again, Snape had a problem, this time regarding her hair. It had been torn out of its original sculpted masterpiece and been dragged through the grime of a warehouse floor--not to mention the two men's greasy hands on the mass. Yet he could not figure out how to get it out of its tangles and knots both intentionally and accidentally put in there. His fingers worked at the snarls for about thirty minutes before her hair hung loose and spread through the water.

How does she work with this much hair? he thought as he stared at the pile of pins he had extracted. He watched as the locks began to sink into the bubbles of the water, and he was struck by the paleness of her hands and face and lips and... Snape cursed before getting to his feet. He grabbed a few cleaning potions from his shelves, and set them next to Corielle, along with a few towels and one of his dressing gowns. He thought that would not be very prudent, but he did not want to search among her clothes.

This, he told himself as he sat down on his sofa in front of the fire and closed his eyes, is why student-teacher relationships are not permitted. If we had not breached one of the most important rules, I would be able to properly take care of her, but now I have to worry about whether she will construe my well-meaning actions into some sort of indication that I wish to... let's not give it fancy words--that I want to screw her senseless. Damn damn damn damn. He rubbed the temples of his forehead.

He continued along this vein until he smelled his potions in the air and turned around to see Corielle stepping softly toward him. She had braided her hair and must have transfigured something of his to secure it at the end. She was wearing his dressing gown and held it at the neck. He shifted slightly at the thought that she was not wearing anything but his clothing. Her eyes were wide, bewildered, and frightened. She froze when Snape fixed his gaze upon her.

"Professor, I..." she began.

"Would you rather I had brought you to Madam Pomfrey for you to explain certain things that have not already been explained to or understood by me?" Snape snapped.

"I trusted you, Professor."

Those words pierced right past Snape's irritable demeanor, and he whipped his head back around to gaze at the fire.

He listened as her feet padded against the carpet to settle down beside him on the other side of the sofa. There was a whole cushion between them.

"A kiss takes two, Miss Griffin," Snape murmured. He knew perfectly well that she was drugged at the time, but his nerves were on edge.

Corielle was silent for a while. Finally she said in a low voice, "I know."

"Allow me to explain my actions," Snape said, still staring into the fire. "I did not know it was you or that I was kissing a student. I thought that maybe someone from one of the other rooms had been brought in by Mim's spell. If I had known, it would never have happened. And it probably would not have happened anyway if I did not drink the undiluted soma as well. I would not be surprised if we were both still very much under its influence."

"May I have something to drink?" Corielle said, almost a whisper.

"There's tea on the table," Snape replied, gesturing vaguely in front of him.

"Do you have anything stronger?"

Snape cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

Corielle raised hers back.

Snape unsheathed his wand from his sleeve and murmured a few words under his breath. The cabinet next to his bookshelf opened, and out flew a carafe of amber fluid. He poured the tea, then poured a considerably liberal amount of the amber fluid into the tea and handed her the cup. He poured some undiluted liquid into a tea cup and brought it to his own lips before drinking. Corielle grimaced, then took a sip of her spiked tea. She grimaced again, but seemed to be able to hold her liquor well enough. She sank back into the cushions and took another sip.

"How are you feeling, Miss Griffin?"

She sighed. "I miss Mouse."

"I think you killed her."

"Don't say that."

"How are you feeling, Miss Griffin?"

She took another sip. "Odd. Uncle Willem could be rough, but he was extremely possessive of me. He did not mind if the men he brought in had their whores in the same bed in which he raped me, as long as they did not even lay a finger upon my skin. I suppose... I was not ready for those two... They did the same things Willem sometimes did, but... because it was them, it... made it worse, I guess."

"The bird?"

Corielle shook her head. "It was as if a part of me came out of myself. I could see through both my eyes and the eyes of the... thing. I felt split in half, like a heavy curtain. But it was like... every violent thought I ever had, every time I imagined cracking Willem over the head or sticking a knife in his ribs, came out of me and ate at the two men. It was exhilarating, but... exhausting."

Her words slurred although the difference was almost undetectable.

"And I guess that's what you meant by extremes, Professor. Black and white. Weakness or power. I stood there, and the power flowed through me without me even trying. I was in the middle of a hurricane."

Snape refilled his tea cup. He was so tolerant of alcohol, it sometimes seemed a burden. It was affecting Corielle though. She stared transfixed at the flicker of the fire.

"Are you in a confessional mood, Miss Griffin?"

"I just drank I don't know what, and you ask if I'm confessional?" Corielle said, grinning. "What do you think?"

Snape took her tea from her and set it on the table. "Eat something," he said. Corielle obeyed without a fuss, leaning over and grabbing two scones. She forgot to hold the collar closed, and the garment gaped open. Snape's hand moved like lightning and closed it for her. Nevertheless, he could feel himself respond to the display. He remembered what those breasts tasted like. He wished he could have pulled down the fabric all the way so that his tongue could tease her peaks which he knew had been hard.

Face it, Severus. If she offered, you'd have her right here.

Snape turned away, presenting Corielle with the back of his head.

"Thank you, Professor."

For what? he thought, trying to maintain control. For wanting so much to have pushed my dressing gown away from your shoulders so that I could see you, maybe touch you. He uttered a frustrated curse.

"I don't know what I would have done if you had not been there."

"You would have killed them anyway," Snape said.

"No," Corielle said. "You helped. You gave me time. And you taught me everything I know."

Why could she not see that he did not want, need, or deserve her gratitude? He filled his cup again. He had her at his disposal--the thought was intriguing in more ways than one. His finger ran over the rim of the glass as he pondered what he could ask her while he had the opportunity.

"Miss Griffin," he murmured, "what was the picture that you took from your house that you would not show to me?"

She rummaged through his pockets, brow wrinkled in concentration. Her eyes lit up as she slid her wand out and said in a voice barely slurred, "Accio photo." In a minute, the photo came under the door to Snape's quarters and settled in Corielle's hand. She gave it to Snape. He ran his eyes over the picture appreciatively. It was not done in a matter that screamed harlot, but something about the way the dress clothed her fifteen year old body made it seem more like a portrait of a loved mistress--a child mistress. The roundness of her face had faded over the last two years, but the girl in the photo was definitely Corielle, and definitely a child. The resemblance cooled his lust.

"I liked that one," she said. "It's the only one that doesn't show so much of my skin." Snape handed in back to her, and she set it aside. "Do you have another question for me, Professor?"

Yes, Professor. Another question, he thought dryly. He drank his glass down and put the glass on the table in front of them, determined not to drink any more.

"What was your worst day with Willem Griffin?" he said.

Corielle's entire countenance fell, but she answered, "It was when I was fourteen. Uncle Willem had already been taking me for four or five years. He left a rose on my bed on Christmas Eve. I had to go to the room. There were three other men there. They did not have women with them. He made me go to the closet and wear this tight black lacy thing that stopped just halfway down my thighs and did not really cover me at all. It had thin straps that held it up, and that was all. Then I had to come in and touch myself for them all on the water bed. It was the first time I felt anything at all. I don't know why, but I started to respond to them watching me, and that scared me more than anything, so I stopped. Uncle Willem grinned at me as he removed my hands from myself and replaced them with his own. And he felt that I had responded. He said I had finally become a woman, and he made the other men take care of themselves as he took me. I couldn't help feeling something with him! inside me. I never did feel anything quite like that night. I mean, it wasn't pleasure, that I know, but my body knew what it was supposed to do. It ached. Uncle Willem expected more from me after that time, but I couldn't do it again. That was when I discovered that if I wanted to, I could enjoy what he gave me. I could make myself enjoy it. But I didn't want to. That would make it too terrible."

Snape managed to keep a dispassionate face. He found it the greatest crime of Griffin's that he stripped Corielle of the ability to take pleasure in her sexuality. Not quite, that nasty little voice in the back of his head said.

"Do you have a best day with him?"

"Yes. At least, it started out well. I don't remember exactly when. I think it was early, when I was still ten. I was crying when he made me take off my clothes for him, but he tried to soothe me this time. He wasn't forceful, he didn't hurt me. He laid me down on his bed with my stomach against the sheets. I still held some semblance of trust with him, and when he started to rub my back with his hands, I started, but I eventually relaxed. That was something that I allowed myself to enjoy because he had done it to me before, but with my clothes on that time. I was almost asleep when he took off his pants and stuck himself into me. It did not hurt as badly as it had the other times because I was more relaxed."

Snape ran a hand through his hair. "Did you ever try and tell someone?"

"Of course," Corielle snapped. Her eyes were unfocused, but her voice was still steady. "I wasn't stupid. I tried so many times, but he always knew, and he always punished me."

"How?"

"Why do you want to know these things?" Corielle said angrily. "Don't you know how much this hurts to remember?"

"It will help me."

"Help you what?"

Snape looked at her. "Help me avoid another incident like tonight. And maybe help you."

Her gaze drifted down to his mouth. "Oh," she muttered. "Well then, what he would do was come into my room and force himself in my back door. It was always painful, and it always bled. He would leave bruises on my breasts and my stomach when he came. He bit my shoulder. Anything he knew made him feel good but made me feel bad."

His eyes locked onto hers. "Did you ever become pregnant?"

Her gray eyes flashed, but then they glowed with tears. She had to look away. "Yes."

"What did Griffin do?"

"He conjured them out right as I was beginning to show and stuck them into bottles, like the ones you have in your potions room."

"Them?"

"I had more than one," Corielle said.

"How many?"

"Four. Uncle Willem did not care when I was fertile or when I had I my period. He just cared about his pleasure."

"Do you think Griffin always desired you?"

Corielle shook her head, swallowing hard at the lingering memory of the babies. She had even named them: Elaine, Helen, Brian, and Benjamin.

"What do you think is the point when he started?" Snape asked.

"When I was nine. He began giving me more attention, more physical attention. He would brush my hair. He would accidentally walk into my bathroom when I was taking a bath or a shower. He would rub my shoulders, tweak my nose, choose clothes for me... Little things. I think it really began when Abby left and I wore going-away robes. They made me feel older, and I asked Uncle Willem how I looked. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. He kissed me on the lips, and I didn't think anything of it until he first really touched me in my bed that night. With Aunt Abby gone, I guess he felt safer in his appetites."

Snape was silent.

"What? No more questions? No more embarrassments?" Now her words were slurred. "Did I satisfy your pedophilic interests in my immature sex life? Now that I have nothing to hide from you, not my worst fears, not my body, not my mind, what do I have left?!" Her speech reached a fevered pitch. "Now that you have me at your complete and total mercy, what do you plan to do with me? Take me like Uncle Willem did? Like I know you tried to have me at that p-p-place?"

She crawled over the cushion between them and whispered in his ear.

"Do you think I might not fight as hard as I did against Uncle Willem? You think I'll be like I was at the party, begging for you?" She panted deliberately into his ear and took a delicious satisfaction in watching a tinge of color come to his face.

Snape struck like a predator, wrapping a hand around Corielle's neck. He did not squeeze, but he held her back. The robe was open again, and he could see her skin bared to her waist.

"You're drunk," he snapped.

"I used to get drunk after he took me, so that I could go to sleep without thinking about his hands."

He loosened his hold. "No one should have to think about that."

"You did."

"Never," he said. "My family was very loving. No one who takes Potions would think that. They all think evil comes from a bad childhood."

Corielle closed her hand around Snape's wrist. She did not pull him away, just established a spark of contact. "You're not evil."

"Extremes, Miss Griffin. Extremes."

"Must be why you're choking me," she said.

He released her. "You are still drunk, Miss Griffin, and I think it is best if you go to your bed and sleep. Anything you do now, you might regret. For instance, I know you're going to hate yourself for letting that dressing gown gape open like a whore."

Snape saw the hurt, the blow, the chagrin, the remorse, then the self-loathing in her open-window eyes. He wanted to regret the words, but if they brought reality back to Corielle, curbing his viper tongue could be dangerous and result in something both of them did not really want to happen. Fantasies were one thing. Reality had repercussions. And Abigail would make personally sure that no one would ever find his remains. Only the Headmaster would attend his funeral.

His words helped, but they also regressed the fragile link he and Corielle had built even more than the illicit kiss.

She stood up with an abruptness that made the cushion on which Snape sat tilt to the side. "Fine, Professor Snape, I'll go to my room. I'll wait for the next man, like a good little whore. And you can stay in this wretched cave, a forgotten whoremonger, waiting to give the unsuspecting innocent a revolting snog in the dark." She stumbled to the door of his quarters, arms attempting to balance her. Snape got to his feet to help her, but she pushed him away.

"Corielle," Snape said. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Let me, Professor!" she shrieked. "Though I'm honestly not sure whether that wouldn't be an improvement on my person." She bumped into a table and cursed. Snape briefly marveled at her extensive vocabulary and wondered where she learned it, being the proper girl that she was brought up to be. But he remained behind, adhering to her drunken foolishness.

She struggled with the doorknob and leaned her head against the door. Her breathing was erratic, her eyes closed, sweat streaming from her forehead. Then she collapsed.

Snape looked at her for several minutes. She was Corielle again, and though he still wanted her--Merlin preserve me--he would not have her even if the Dark Lord resurrected and cast Imperius upon him. Not even if she asked. Because Willem Griffin had spoiled her--not for him, he was not selfish as all that--but spoiled her and everything she could have had. Nothing related to what Griffin did to her could ever be what it was supposed to be. Even if she asked. Even if she graduated and asked. Even if the memory of Griffin was Obliviated. He swore it to himself.

He approached her on the floor, closed the dressing gown, and wrapped it more completely around her. Sliding his arms under her body, she was lifted from the ground and placed on the couch. He knew what waking up in his bed would do to both of them.

He pulled down his bed covers, changed into his nightshirt, laid down between the cool sheets. His mouth set in a grim line, he set his mind on the glaciers of Greenland and fell asleep.