A Cloud Before the Moon

It's all I have to bring to-day,

This, and my heart beside,

This, and my heart, and all the fields,

And all the meadows wide.

Be sure you count, should I forget, --

Someone the sum could tell, --

This, and my heart, and all the bees

Which in the clover dwell.

- Emily Dickinson

He had accomplished what he'd set out to do. He'd retrieved the necklace, intimidated and distressed his mother (most deservedly), and set certain events in motion. After experiencing a fleeting moment of triumph, he felt no great sense of achievement or satisfaction. What he did feel was nauseous and weary. Clutching the necklace tightly in his left hand, he headed for Letha's room, this time with far less enthusiasm. He knocked again. "May I come in?" he asked, uncertainly. He suspected he might actually feel relieved if she sent him away.

There was no response, and he began to turn away from the door. As he turned, the door opened, and Letha stood in front of him, wearing the blue dress. "Thank you, Severus," she said solemnly.

"It suits you." More than that, he thought, it was lovely on her, gracefully tracing the lines ands curves of her form, the hue highlighting the color of her eyes. He opened his hand and showed her the necklace lying therein. "Turn around" he told her, and she did so, lifting her hair. He placed it around her neck, as he had done once before. His hands were shaking and he nearly dropped it, but he eventually managed to secure the clasp.

Letha turned back towards him and studied his drawn face with consternation. "Come here!" she ordered. She grasped his wrist and led him over to the bed. He followed her docilely, and when she tugged on his shoulders, he sat. Standing in front of him, she wrapped her arms around him, and lay his head on her bosom. She gently rocked him back and forth and whispered soothing words, as to a young child, tenderly stroking his hair. No one had ever, ever, held him like that before. He was relieved that at that moment she could not see his eyes.

In the protective circle of her embrace, his nausea dissipated and his mental state rapidly improved. The pain of maternal rejection was superceded by a very different type of ache. Gingerly, Severus wrapped his arms around her waist, and she did not protest. He planted his hands against the small of her back, willing them to stay put unless invited to do otherwise.

"You're trembling, Severus!" she exclaimed. "What can I do to make you feel better?" She gave him a delicious little squeeze.

He bit his tongue and said nothing. Letha looked down into his face, and her concerned gaze was met by a pair of glowing embers, black as anthracite. She sucked in her breath sharply. "Well , I think I can guess the answer to that question." There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Snape recognized that it was the witch's opportunity to take control of the situation; surely she would not miss the opportunity. She was going to kick him out; he was certain. However, she seemed in no hurry to decide his fate. She seemed to be considering the matter, and regarded him with a tiny, indecipherable smile on her lips.

In for a sickel, in for a galleon.... "May I - kiss you?" It was a fairly harmless request, he thought, and he asked it as softly and meekly as he could manage.

"That depends. Who are you asking?"

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

She ran her fingertips down the nape of his neck, and he shivered slightly. "Yes you do."

She was right. He was simply not certain what answer she was looking for. Of course, that was the dishonest way to approach the matter. "Why does it matter?" He hoped it did not sound like an answer of expediency. It was not - not completely, at any rate. "Whether you remember the past, or not, you are still the same person I have always known you to be."

"Not a bad answer, I suppose. Not a particularly good one either." She slid out from between his arms. "Thank you for the lovely dress." She looked at him in a calculating manner. "I assume, Mr. Snape, that you were not anticipating a quid pro quo. I would hope you do not have so low an opinion of me."

He reddened slightly and stammered "N-n-no of course not. I really only brought it for you because I thought you'd like it." It was true; he hadn't had any other consideration in mind - until his trip home from Dublin.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said with finality.

With whatever shreds of dignity he could muster, he nodded curtly. "Good evening, Miss Faraday", he said stiffly, and headed for the door.

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows archly. "Giving up that easily?"

Did she have any idea, he wondered, of how maddening this was? He silently walked back to where she stood, while she watched him closely, curiously. "I simply wanted to bring you something of your own. I hope you like it." She nodded, biting her lip. It was now she who blushed, as he brought his mouth close to her ear. "Of course, it was probably a mistake."

"A mistake?" she squeaked.

"Not very practical. You'd have had far more use for something less formal."

"But it's beautiful," she said, reaching out her arms to pull him to her.

He moved out of her reach, stabbing the air with his forefinger. "Flannel bedclothes! That would have been valuable on a chilly morning."

She maneuvered back toward him. "No doubt, but I appreciate..."

Seemingly oblivious to her attempted incursion, he once again stepped back, exclaiming "Undergarments!"

"What?"

"There's nothing as pleasant as putting on clean new undergarments." He paused as Letha started giggling, but Snape remained quite deadpan, as he added, "though l haven't the slightest idea how to buy witch's undergarments." She practically tackled him, but he continued on unfazed. "I shouldn't know how to select a proper size..."

"Oh really, Severus!" she huffed in exasperation, grabbing his wrists and firmly planting his hands where they might extract some valuable information. Somehow, it seemed to put an end to the discussion.

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He opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness. As he began to rise, fingers reached out and touched his hand. "I have to go," he whispered.

"If you must...." responded a sleepy voice.

He kissed her on the forehead and stood up. Once he was dressed, he sat down beside her. "Are you still awake?"

"Mm-hmm" she murmured.

"You mustn't let anyone know about this."

Letha propped herself up on her elbows. "I wasn't planning on it, but...."

Severus placed his finger against her lips. "I know how that must sound." He paused. "It is not - for the reason you might think. But you've met my mother. There are- things - that I must keep from her. And ... certain other people."

"Why? Are you embarrassed?"

"No."

"Afraid?"

He licked his lips. "I admit that is a part of it. But not merely for myself. I must consider the safety of others as well. Including you. The less that - certain people - understand, the safer we are."

"You intend to deceive these people."

"The successful use of deception is sometimes necessary to achieve even the most admirable results."

"The end justifies the means."

"Yes."

"Sometimes. But the end does not justify all means." She brought her face close to his and whispered, "Remember, my love, you must be able to live in your own skin. You cannot shed it like a snake."

He did not answer, but squeezed her hand and slipped silently out of the room.