A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 30

Wild Nights! Wild Nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port, --
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in Thee!
- Emily Dickinson

They stood face to face in Adams's bedroom, several feet apart, and Letha was feeling acutely and uncomfortably aware that she had actually ordered him to kiss her. Of course, if he didn't want to, he'd have made that pretty clear already. That didn't seem to be the problem. So, what was the problem? Letha looked straight into his dark eyes and found no clue there. She shrugged slightly and headed for the door. "Maybe I shouldn't have..."

He reached out a hand towards her. "Wait." She did as he asked. "Tell me why?"

"Why?" Letha swallowed hard. "Because you owe me. I'm still waiting, since the day I turned thirteen. Only, I'm a lot older now."

"Meaning?"

She smiled, blushing slightly. "Meaning, I expect payment with interest. At usurious rates."

To Letha's relief, Snape smiled at her. "Interest you shall have. But," he added, the smile disappearing, "Bailey said you despise me."

"Now, there's a reliable source of information. Actually, I thought it was you who despised me."

"What gave you that idea?"

"You did. It was you who threw me out of your house years ago, wasn't it? You treated me like a pariah at school. You never spoke to me once, not even when my grandmother died!" She paused to regain her composure, and Snape did not interrupt. Softly, she added, "What gave me the idea you detest me? You said as much in Dumbledore's office."

There was no valid contest to her argument, but he felt compelled to protest nonetheless. "I'm certain I never said any such thing! What I said was..."

She put out her hand, palm up. "Stop. I know what you said," she told him irritably. "At least I did a moment ago - let me think. Just give me a minute." She looked at the man across from her - she knew him, but from where? Panic began to set in.

In alarm, he began digging in his pocket for the green vial, pulled it out and carefully let two drops fall on his fingertip. More than that carried certain risks, but he decanted one more drop. "Come here," he ordered. When she hesitated, he added, more gently, "I won't hurt you." He held his finger to her lips and as the beads of green liquid touched her skin, memories flooded back into her mind, causing her to stagger slightly with confusion. She knew this was it - now or never. He gasped slightly as she gently grasped his finger with her lips and tongue. He brought his mouth to hers and kissed the corner of her lips, her cheekbone, her temple For an exquisite moment they stood, nearly touching, a breath apart, and finally, Letha saw in his eyes a light behind the opaque mask. She kissed his lower lip, kissed his upper lip, pressed her mouth to his, fighting the urge to close her eyes, so she could watch his eyes watching her. His tongue slid between her teeth and entwined with hers. He pulled her close and she moaned softly into his collar, as he swept her down onto the bed. Letha twisted around, so that she straddled his long slender body, her breasts swaying just above his face. He grasped them in his hands and kneaded them gently while his tongue circled and sucked each nipple in turn, then stopped to admire the effect he was having on them. Then they kissed again, a kiss that completely occupied the attention of lips, teeth, and tongue, of mind, soul and body. Letha slid her hands down between his thighs, smiling to herself at the reassuring hardness of him.

He guided her hands away, gently holding her wrists against the pillow. "Not yet," he murmured into her ear, his voice like buttercream, sending shivers down her spine. "There's no rush," he added, and she caught his mouth again with hers, as he lazily lingered on the "shhhh."

"Then I'd better keep you busy somehow," she said agreeably, resuming her attention to his mouth. Letha took kissing very seriously. And it showed. Davy Adams had not been the first man notably impressed by her aptitude in that skill. Several years earlier, she had kissed a handsome young wizard named Edgar Tolley with such excessive enthusiasm, that it had taken over a year to persuade the hapless fellow that it did not 'prove' she loved him. Coincidentally, at about the same time, Severus Snape had had a rather more intimate encounter with Edgar's sister Cynthia. It had taken the witch far less time to recognize the lack of long-term commitment on his part; 'That was pleasant, but I see no reason to relive it,' was fairly easy to comprehend, as a hint of his intentions. For some time, the names Faraday and Snape were both regarded with great hostility in the Tolley household.

Snape reached up to touch her face with his fingertip, slid it languorously down the curve of her cheek, the curve of her neck, the curve of her breast. "Letha?" he murmured.

"Yes?" she asked breathily.

"We should have done this a long time ago."

She whispered back, "I know." With each hand she grabbed a lock of his hair, twisted it around her fingers, and pulled him back towards her. They kissed again, a long, luxuriant kiss that left her breathless. Nevertheless, she pushed him away as a thought occurred to her. "Just a moment," she directed. "Don't go anywhere." Letha reluctantly releasing herself from his hold, stood up, picked up her wand and waved it in a circle around the room. Silencio! Snape stood up as well, removing his clothing and tossing it aside with an unaccustomed lack of fastidiousness. Letha threw her wand on the floor and let him enfold her in his embrace, planting a sloppy kiss on the side of his nose.

When she tried to urge him back to bed, he grasped both her wrists, kissed them, and placed them behind her back. "Do not move," he ordered her. "You are to remain absolutely still. Do you understand?" he asked solemnly.

She nodded, and he stared at her warningly. "I promise to behave, Severus."

He stood in front of her, his own hands similarly held behind him. With agonizing slowness, he inched closer to her, so that their bodies nearly touched. Letha could feel the warmth from his skin, smell his scent. The immediacy of his presence, so easily reachable yet just out of reach, made her giddy. Presently, he stood only agonizing inches away from her, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. When she strained towards him, hungrily, urgently, he leaned away lazily, maintaining the space between them.

Just as she was sure she would go mad, he dropped to his knees, slid his hands around her buttocks and flicked the tip of his tongue into the delicate round crevasse of her navel. She emitted a gasp of surprise that melted into a sigh of pleasure. As he worked his way up her body, they explored one another with mouth and hands. Then he lifted her up and laid her back on the bed.

It was neither the time nor the place of choice, but it was the only time and place they had. Why, he wondered, had he not realized sooner? As if he had come to comprehend some hitherto foreign language, he saw the expression in her eyes and understood what it meant. At the same time, his hand brushed the thick silky patch of hair between her legs, and his long slender fingers explored the warm, moist, inviting folds beneath.

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape had some inkling that 'love' was not some fragile bubble that burst upon contact with flesh; that with love, the physical and metaphysical, were not mutually exclusive. Combining the two, physical and metaphysical, created a magic more potent than any potion could ever be. He could see it, he could feel it, he could even smell it with his (admittedly overlarge) nose. It was a detectable note in the heady bouquet of soap and sex, fear and fervor, a note that stood out distinctly, unfamiliar and exhilarating.

There could be no doubt that she loved him; again he marveled that it had taken so long for him to realize. It had taken something of a tragedy to make him aware. What he did not recognize was that the tragedy was the sine qua non of his realization. Had she expressed her desire for him under ordinary circumstances, he would have mistaken it for mere carnality, for the weakness of character, which had prevented him from ever loving her. And, despite everything, still did. Had he been thinking about it (and mercifully, he was too pleasantly occupied to be thinking about it), he might have realized that he did in fact love Letha, but, as Muggles were wont to say, he was not "in love" with her. It was unfortunate - even though he had just now come to recognize the miscibility of the sensual with the transcendent, he was not yet ready to offer both in combination to the same woman. As Letha had recognized, he was a true Romantic, and the one girl he had ever been in love with had died, never knowing (or caring) that he was even conscious of her existence. This, probably, was just as well.

Further consideration of the forces that had brought them to this encounter was forsaken. Severus was determined not to allow the brevity of the time allotted to them to make of it a hurried tryst. He focused on savoring every delectable moment of their time together.

"Letha?"

"Severus? Yes, Severus?" (She wanted to say his name over and over - maybe she would remember it that way.)

"Would you let me try something?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Why, whatever do you have in mind, my dear Mr. Snape?" she asked coquettishly.

"It is something I have read about, but never actually done. It can be dangerous, though." (Actually, much of what they'd done so far he had never actually done before either. In great measure, he was going on instinct and recollection of things he had read in books clandestinely borrowed, with no small embarrassment, from his father's private library. He hoped his lack of vast experience was not too painfully obvious, not realizing that Letha, had she been aware of any such deficit, would not have cared a fig. As it was, though, and as he would eventually come to discover, he had remarkably good instincts at such things.)

She stroked his hair. "What have I got to lose?" And she meant it.

He climbed out of her embrace and retrieved his wand. For a second time, he admonished her not to move. He positioned the tip of his wand immediately over her forehead, and drew it down her body, centimeters from her skin. Then he made some spiraling movements with the wand and called out "Impetus!"

A silvery bolt shot from the tip of his wand and blasted a hole in the pillow, inches from her head. His eyes widened in horror, but Letha started laughing. "Oh Severus, that was really..." She was overcome with giggles. "How will we explain the property damage?"

"What is so funny? I could have killed you!"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Try again."

He looked at her doubtfully, but she smiled with encouragement. Again, he drew the wand down the length of her body, and waved it in graceful spirals. This time there was no hesitancy or quaver, the wand soared through the air, a natural extension of his bare arm. This time there was no silver bolt, either. Instead, a shimmering shadow wove itself around her, and lifted her slightly off the bed.

"Well," she murmured breathily, "whatever it is, it worked."

Severus dropped his wand and touched her through the silvery film. He felt a surge of energy that passed from her hand to his hand, to his arm, to his chest, and throughout his body. He slid onto her and into her and a sort of glimmering fabric of energy enveloped them both. Every touch, every caress, resonated through every fiber of both their bodies. For a brief interlude, nothing else existed, or at least, nothing else mattered.

The funny thing was, what Severus did not realize, what he might not even have realized if he had been thinking about it, was that the spell would not work if certain elements were missing. By his reckoning, one important element was indeed missing, yet the spell had worked. Had he made that observation, he might have wondered at its implications.

**************

It felt like he had been sitting on the couch for hours. He had been putting up with Bailey's sobs and moans, and his flat was in chaos - bloodstains on the couch, and an ugly yellow stain on the carpet where Bailey had wet himself when Snape had grabbed him. There was also the filth on his bed, where Letha had lain, covered in muck. He hoped Snape could "magic" the mess away. Adams picked up the newspaper and tried to read, but it was impossible to concentrate. Snape and Letha were locked away in the bedroom - HIS bedroom - doing - well, he was pretty sure he knew what they were doing. Restlessly, he stood up to fetch the whiskey bottle from the cupboard.

Of course, at the moment he was returning from the kitchen, Snape appeared at the bedroom door, looking rather disheveled. "Is everything all right in here?"

"Just fine," Adams replied tersely. He saw Snape looking at the whiskey bottle. "Want a shot?"

Snape looked tempted to accept, but shook his head. "I'd better not."

"How is she? I mean - how is she doing?"

"The antidote's worn off. I've given her a sleeping draught in the meantime."

"Can't you just keep giving her that antidote?"

"No. One of the ingredients is strychnine. Clearly, it must not be administered intemperately."

"I shouldn't think so! What will you do, then?"

"I will prepare another Portkey, and then I will be leaving with Miss Faraday and Mr. Bailey." He said it as if they were leaving on a routine business trip. "I do have a plan of sorts," Snape assured him.

"Are you - are you going to Obliviate me? I did agree to it, but I was hoping...."

"Obliviate you?" Snape looked at him pensively. "No. I think there's been quite enough of that. Besides, I may be back. Fairly soon, in fact."

"Indeed?"

"I might have a use for you. If you are not Obliviated." He glanced significantly at the whiskey bottle. "Or intoxicated."

"I haven't touched it yet," he grumbled defensively. He reluctantly returned the bottle to its usual spot.

Snape went into the bedroom and came back, carrying Letha wrapped in his robe. He sat on the couch and began fiddling with the newspaper, after which he dropped it on the floor near the couch.

"Is there something you can do about this mess?" Adams asked.

"Oh, certainly, I will take care of it. And the pillow."

"Very comforting. Wait a moment - what pillow?"

Snape ignored the question. He took Letha in his arms, grabbed Bailey by the collar, and without further delay, said, "Good evening, Mr. Adams." He stepped on the newspaper, and the three of them were gone.

"You could've at least said, 'Thank you', y'ungrateful sod," said Adams, to the space where Snape had been sitting a moment before.