A Life Half Lived

CHAPTER 4

She'd left him abruptly, saying she had things to do, tossing him a piece of paper with her address on it and telling him to meet her there when he had collected his luggage. Snape had returned to Hogwarts and packed a small bag - not much clothing - but he did have a few personal things he liked to have around him.

He checked the slip of paper with the address on it as he walked up the street. He'd never actually been in this part of London before, but was taking to it nicely. The buildings in Docklands were modern, nothing like the slums he had been told about. Their clean lines appealed to something in him.

He entered the building. Oh Gods - a lift. He tried to remember how to work one.

Finally, he managed it and made it to the top floor, feeling a touch of vertigo hit him as he got out of the lift. She just had to be on the top floor.

He found the right door, a card in a brass holder bearing only the legend "Winter". He smiled briefly, wondering if he looked he would find "Summer", "Autumn" and "Spring" somewhere. He also wondered why he seemed to feel he should know her. There was something elusively familiar about her.

He saw the small button on the door and ignored it, opting to knock instead.

He knocked again and heard a voice from inside. The door was opened and he saw Morgan in front of him.

The elegant woman he had met earlier was gone. This one had a mane of long red curls pulled back in a messy ponytail and was wearing an old shirt and a pair of disreputable jeans.

"Come in," she snapped and ran back towards a tiny cauldron. The jeans were torn in some very interesting places, he noted.

His years as a Potions Master had made him sensitive to the ingredients used in potions, and his nostrils flared as he smelled the acrid scent - what on earth was she doing with THOSE ingredients? He wondered. He watched her measure some of the mixture into a glass, raising it to her lips.

Was she trying to kill herself? Snape dropped his case and ran forward, knocking the cauldron off the flame and grabbing the glass, tipping the contents down the sink.

Morgan let out a scream of fury and turned on him. "What the hell did you do that for?" she screamed. "Now I've got to start all over again!"

"You stupid girl! That particular potion is highly dangerous and not one I would ever recommend anybody use," he snarled, as angry as she was.

Morgan looked surprised. "It's a simple contraceptive potion," she said. "I've been using it since I was sixteen! And never a side effect might I add."

"And what happens if you don't take it every day?" he asked. Hoping the answer wouldn't be the one he was dreading.

Morgan blushed. "None of your fucking business," she growled.

"On the contrary, Mrs Winter, potions are my business. Now an answer if you please." He stood in her kitchen, arms folded, his eyes never leaving her face, a pose that any of his students would instantly recognise.

Oh god, thought Morgan. I feel like one of his students again! She tried to look him in the eye and found that she could not. Damn, her school days had ended in 1983! She was an adult and should be able to look this man in the eye and tell him to go to hell for his intrusive question. But she couldn't. She knew the look in his eyes; had seen it once before in one of his classes when a student had managed to brew a particularly potent poison by mistake. Anger - and concern.

She also knew the answer to his question, and in her heart dreaded it. For him to look like that, there must be something very wrong with the potion.

"I get cramps," she whispered, "the most horrible cramps. And I bleed. For days, sometimes weeks."

Snape felt his stomach constrict. Whoever had deceived this woman into thinking that potion was harmless should be killed. Preferably using Avada Kedavra after being forced to drink some of the more nasty potions he knew how to brew. How was he going to tell her? He watched her, watched a tear roll down her face. Did she know? Or had his questions made her suspect? Could she truly be that innocent?

He reached out and awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to comfort her. He hated it when a potion was used badly. When an innocent was harmed.

"It's not a simple contraceptive as you think," he explained in a cold voice, a voice that carried overtones of "lecture" in it. "Whilst it is a contraceptive, it is highly dangerous. No decent apothecary would sell or even suggest it. It kills over time. It also removes any hope a woman has for conceiving a child."

He felt her stiffen and removed his hand. She looked up at him incredulously. "Poison?" she asked.

"In a way. It eats away at your reproductive organs and eventually...," his voice trailed off uncomfortably.

"I've been taking it since I was sixteen," she said softly. She looked at him. "Will I die?"

"No. I can brew you something that will stop the cramps and bleeding. And if you must use a contraceptive potion, I can give you something much better. Safer. You only need to drink it after sex."

She laughed hollowly. "But if what you've said is right, then I probably don't need it."

"No. I suspect not. Although you should see a doctor to confirm it."

"Will you still brew the other for me?"

"Yes."

She had watched as he brewed, and he had been surprised by her questions, all intelligent inquiries about the ingredients and their properties. She'd also asked him to write it down for her in case she needed to brew it herself.

From her perspective, Morgan was enthralled. This man was a true genius when dealing with potions. She could not see him measure or weigh anything; seemingly to know by instinct when he had the right amount.

She watched him slicing the herbs, taking only minutes to do them all, when it would have taken her an hour or more to get them as fine as that (in fact, she probably would have used her food processor).

They had had an argument about her kitchen and most of its expensive contents.

"Do you call this a knife?" he asked scornfully, holding up one of her hideously expensive knives.

"Yes," she said sarcastically, "I do call it a knife. So does the rest of the world. Perhaps you call it something else?"

He snorted. "What I call it is dangerous. No edge, and the handle is far too flimsy. It'll never get through a spleen for example."

"Gosh,' said Morgan, eyes widening, sarcasm dripping from her words, "You know I bet that the manufacturers never thought of that! They just thought they would make a good kitchen knife. Probably never even tested it on a spleen! How foolish of them."

She thought she heard a chuckle at that. Did he actually have a sense of humour? Pilar had said he did, but it took a bit of getting used to. "You'll appreciate it, Morgan," she said earlier that evening on the phone, "it's very dry. Very hidden. But don't ever let yourself get into a position where he can tease you. On the other hand, if you ever do, make sure it's where Remus and I can see and hear. I want to see who comes off best."

Next, he was looking irritably at her one cauldron that had held the other potion. "I can't use that for this," he said, "Not until it's been thoroughly cleaned and sterilised with magic as well as heat. Don't you have another?"

Morgan shook her head and crouched down to her pot cupboard and pulled out a small enamel pan. "Will this do?" she asked.

Severus looked at it with distaste. It was white with insane pink flowers all around the outside. "Definitely not," he said. "Pewter or silver for preference. Steel as a last resort. Don't you know anything?"

She stood up and went over to a hook that held a set of cookware - another of her hideously expensive, impulse purchases. Morgan made yet another mental note to stop purchasing things on the internet.

She held one of the pans out to him. "The very best Stainless Steel, with a copper base. Guaranteed to last a lifetime and a steal at only £25 each."

He took the pot from her and examined it. Then looked at the others, and she watched him calculate the cost. Damn.

His lips twitched slightly. "You've ben ripped off," he said and turned around, but didn't put the pot down.

"That one good enough for you, oh great Potions Master?" she asked.

"It will serve." She wondered what he was looking for and then realised. The small getup she used herself to brew her potion was hardly big enough for that pot.

"We call it a stove," she said pointing it out. "I'm quite proud of it - ceramic and flush with the counter tops. Nothing can get between the elements and it came with a lifetime guarantee."

"How do you light it?"

"You don't. At least, not if you want to keep breathing. It's electric."

She showed him how to turn it on and adjust the heat. He filled the pot with water and stood back.

"I thought you were going to brew a potion, not a cup of tea. But if you want one, it's easier to use the kettle." She nodded in the direction of the kettle.

"I need to know the heating speed and average temperature," he said, "and the best way to do that is to boil water and see how long it takes."

"Okay. Speed I get, but temperature?" she asked, fascinated.

"The water will boil after a certain amount of time - the speed. The average temperature is also the speed, the higher the average temperature, and the shorter the time it will take to boil. Unless I know that, I can't regulate the potion correctly."

"A lid will make it boil faster."

"And make it impossible to add the ingredients correctly. The water must be boiled in the same conditions that the potion will be made to get the correct calculations."

She slowly shook her head. "I never knew that. Was never taught that. Why?"

He looked at her. "You went to Hogwarts?" She nodded. Could it be that he did not recognise her? "In schools, the Potions teacher always makes sure each day that each burner is regulated, and as the students are always using these, it's not necessary to teach the water trick. Unless they want to specialise in Potions, then it's covered in specialist lessons," He looked bitter for a moment. "Usually once a student leaves school, they only use the most simple of potions where the speed and temperature don't matter."

Morgan felt a moment's pity for him - he truly did love potions, and she felt for the waste of his life that he was teaching those who did not appreciate his art. Her heart constricted in fear. Cannot be soft. Must be hard. She took refuge in her normal sarcastic attitude.

"So Potions Masters learn to boil water," she said dryly. "Midwives must love you."

She definitely caught the smile at that quip. "Well said," was his only comment, as he took the pan of boiling water off the stove and tipped it down the sink, pouring it over his hand as he did so.

"Another trick?" she asked.

He nodded. "It confirms the temperature."

"But your hand - surely you get burned?"

"Cast iron hands," he said. Morgan laughed herself at that - once again caught unaware by the flashes of personality she glimpsed.

He put the pot back on the stove after carefully using a spell to dry the pot completely. "And now, Mrs Winter, if you will pass me the ingredients as I ask for them, I shall show you how to brew this potion."

She sat at the other side of the island from him, the hotplates in between them, the neatly separated piles of herbs in front of her. "Shall you need a liquid to start?" she asked.

He nodded. "Water is fine for this one. I'll add some honey later," he said.

"Honey?"

"Makes it taste better," he said absently, putting some water in the pan and looking around. "I don't suppose you have a wooden spoon?"

"In the drawer to your left," she replied.

He opened the draw and took out a wooden spoon, obviously approving of at least one thing in her kitchen.

The brewing went well, and he only yelled at her once when she passed him the wrong herbs. She noticed that he always indicated which ones he wanted after that, not just name them.

She was absolutely fascinated as she watched him. He was totally absorbed in the task, and seemingly so negligent, adding the herbs in handfuls or in tiny pinches - at one point he stirred the mixture and then seemed to taste it, pouring a tiny bit from the spoon into his palm and first smelling it, then his tongue darted out to taste.

It had been one of the most erotic things she had ever seen.

"Now we let it simmer," he said.

Morgan came back to earth and shook herself. She couldn't help herself. "Do you cook too?" she asked.

"I have been known to, on occasion. It's not too different from brewing a potion."

Morgan looked incredulous. "You truly must be a nasty bastard then. You can cook, handle a knife like that; and now that you've been cleaned up, are not bad looking. Women kill for men like that."

His faced took on an oddly closed expression. "I have no need for a wife - or any emotional entanglement, Mrs Winter," he said coldly.

"Morgan, Severus. My name is Morgan. And if you can't use it, then you will place both our lives at risk," she said, looking him directly in the eyes this time and found it hard to look away.

He nodded slowly, a little stunned by his reaction when she said his name. And wondered why he longed to hear it cross her lips again. "Morgan, then," was all he said.

Morgan stood up, deliberately breaking the contact. She was confused - usually when she had this sort of sexual attraction to a man, by now they would be bonking like bunnies.

But for some reason she couldn't explain, she didn't want just sex with this man. She wanted to know him and for him to know her. She wanted more than just an affair.

Taking a deep breath, she went to the refrigerator and took a menu off it. They were working together. Okay. They were supposed to be portraying lovers. She could cope with that. He had to live in her home, but she couldn't afford the distractions sex with Severus Snape would cause.

She knew that it would take all her skill to catch the people they were after, and to manage to get themselves out of it alive and undetected.

Once again, she wished for a partner who was either a fellow Auror or a Detective. They knew the game. Knew the risks and would be able to look out for themselves. Not like this pampered Professor.

"We should eat," she said, waving the menu at him, "this place is great, and they deliver. I could really go a good Satay."

Snape looked interested. "You like Satay?" he asked. "What sort?"

Morgan looked offended. "Cantonese, of course. Is there any other?" Snape shook his head. At least she had good taste in food.

"Cantonese is the best, " he agreed, "although I met an Indonesian Wizard who made a terrific satay once. Pity he used it to try to poison me," he finished.

Morgan's eyes twinkled. "Waste of a good Satay I should say," she rejoindered. "What happened to the Wizard?"

"It was terribly sad," said Snape, his face blank, "he was forced to spend his remaining years cooking school dinners."

Morgan couldn't help herself. She laughed loud and long. Pilar had been right about his sense of humour. She made the decision that she would never, ever get herself in a position where her sister and her husband would see her being teased by Snape.

She wasn't actually sure she would come out on top. She realised, though, that she was craving the sort of intimacy that would cause such teasing.

Severus Snape watched her phone the order through. He was completely astonished by this witch - a very powerful witch from all accounts - who managed to balance the Muggle and Wizarding worlds like she did.

Seemingly living wholly in the Muggle world, using all its gadgets with ease, and yet from what Dumbledore had told him, she was a highly skilled Auror. One who had a reputation of being able to accurately cast and throw spells without always needing her wand to focus. A witch who was well on the way to being a Master herself, and one who seemed to stimulate his mind (and other areas) in ways he had not encountered for many years.

He had been pleased she seemed to share his sense of humour, surprised at her interest in the potion he brewed for her, and gratified that they seemed to share the same taste in food (if the order she placed was anything to go by).

He also knew of her reputation in other areas, and wondered if it was well deserved. He caught himself back from a desire to pull her hair down and run his hands through it. It's colour and the way it curled in long ringlets fascinated him. He wondered if it looked that insane when she first got up in the morning.

The phone rang again, and as he checked and stirred the potion he couldn't help but to overhear her side of the conversation.

"Sirius - how nice to hear from you!" Pleasure.

"That would be great, but can I take a rain check? I've just had to start an assignment that will keep me tied up for a while." Pleasure - and regret?

"Ok, when I've finished. I'll give you a call." Was that anticipation? "Yes. I definitely had fun. Most enjoyable, and I do look forward to a repeat performance." Now that was definitely sensual; he felt a surge of heat go through his body.

Bad enough he had to listen to her flirting with Sirius Black on the phone, but obviously they had gone a bit further than just a simple date.

Snape was confused. He had only met this woman today. Why did he feel so possessive?

She put the phone down and turned back. "Sorry about that. Dinner will be here in about 15 minutes or so. Would you like a drink?"

"What have you got?"

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not much of a drinker. Most of my wine collection is at the country house I inherited from my late, unlamented husband. My sister and her husband say they appreciate it though," my god, I'm babbling, she thought, "So really all I have here is some unchilled champagne and a rather nice Australian white wine. Or diet coke, milk, juice."

"The wine will be fine." Diet coke, he wondered, just what on earth is diet coke?

She took a bottle of wine from the fridge, and got down two large wine glasses. "I had this first when I was in Australia," she said, "and liked it so much I bought a case. Very light, very dry, but somehow it always reminds me of Australia, all that sunshine. "

He took a sip, and looked at the glass appreciatively. "Very nice," he agreed, "but before you drink that you should drink this potion."

She made a face. "Would you like the honey now?" He nodded and she got the bottle of honey from the pantry.

Snape poured some into the gently bubbling mixture, and stirred it quickly. "Do you have a glass for it?"

Morgan handed him a glass from the cupboard and he measured the amount into it. "You only need this much - no more," he said, handing her the glass.

Morgan took it, "How much is "this much"?" she asked.

"About a cup."

She took a cautious sip. Not bad. She could taste the herbs and honey and it rolled sweetly down her throat, soothing her stomach, which had already started to feel queasy. In fact, she actually felt hungry for food.

"Not too bad," she said. "How often should I take it?"

"For the next two weeks, once a day," he said. "After that, if you have it once a month, for the next twelve months, it should clear the worst of that garbage from your system. Unfortunately, it cannot repair the damage."

Morgan nodded. There was definitely more to this man than meets the eye.