Darkly Bound

25

By the time I had returned my students were woefully behind. I was as well. I hadn't even thought of writing exams and they were approaching quickly. I spent the next week adjusting my curriculum and culling through old exams left by Professor Trelawny. That raised my spirits. Exam writing didn't seem to be her forte. I had a mercifully low standard to live up to.

I'd also noticed that I'd started getting some of my abilities back. I was able to see things occasionally, and feelings and emotions coming from those around were beginning to leave impressions as well. I knew I was well on my way to recovery when I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of utter rage and frustration one morning for apparently no reason. I shrugged it off until I heard later that day in the staff room that an unfortunate third-year had initiated a chain reaction explosion of epic proportions in the Potions classroom earlier that day.

I'd hardly seen Snape since the evening we'd returned and I'd threatened him with a smooch in great hall. When I'd come in that evening, trailed by a happily smiling and chatting Jamaica Kinkaid, I looked up towards the teachers' table to see that he'd actually contrived not only to be part of a cluster of teachers around Dumbledore, but had managed to insert himself behind Professor McGonagall's chair as well. I walked the entire length of the hall along the Slytherin table escorting Jamaica to her place with the rest of the second years. I knew he was watching every step. I was JOKING, you big coward! I shot at him and once the girl was settled went to my own seat without giving him a second glance.

He'd avoided me like the plague from then on. That is, he avoided me until one day, just after dismissing a class for the weekend I felt him approaching. I kept about my business with one eye on the classroom door. He reached the threshold and looked behind him before stepping inside.

"Don't worry, I think most of the chit-chat has run it's course. Just a few hard-liners left," I said. He didn't say anything, and I got a distinct impression that he was having trouble finding just what to say. I decided to help things along. "Good afternoon, Professor. How have you been? I haven't seen much of you lately. I heard you had a little mishap last week. Have you and Filch got that cauldron off the ceiling yet?"

He looked at me, distracted, "Um...yes...actually it wasn't a cauldron. Oh, stop it."

I looked down at the old exam papers on my desk and tried not to laugh. "Do you want something?"

"Want something? No. I do have a question. Would you be interested-- I am going to see some...friends tonight. I wondered if you'd like to come with me."

I put my hand under my chin to keep my jaw from dropping onto the desk. "What? What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, I heard you. You just asked me out on a date."

"I did no such thing."

I pushed a notebook off my desk so I could have a quick laugh while picking it up off the floor. "My mistake. Of course you didn't. As long as we're clear on that."

He was glaring at me, which made it even harder not to laugh. "I'd love to come. What time and what should I wear?"

"Midnight. Formal," he said as he strode toward the door.

"Wait a minute! What kind of people have parties at midnight?"

He stopped in his race to escape and half turned back towards me. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yes! I said I'd go. But I don't have anything to wear to something like that."

"I'm sure you'll manage. Just be ready by midnight."

Driven by a incorrigible sense of curiosity, I found myself wandering the halls towards Slytherin house at eleven that night. I had no particular desire to associate with the sort of people, if they even were people, who'd schedule a party at that hour, but the opportunity to see who Snape was in the habit of socializing with was just too good an offer to give up. But there was a problem.

I got to the door of his rooms and looked down the deserted corridor. I decided not to knock and wasn't at all surprised to find the door open. I slipped inside and shut the door.

"So, you decided," his voice came from another room off to the side. I started in that direction. Being Housemaster certainly had its advantages. This was quite a comfortable set of rooms.

"I still don't know what--oh!" He was shaving and I had walked in just as he swiped a wicked looking, glistening blade up the side of his face.

"Don't know what?" he asked.

"What are you doing?"

He held the blade poised for another stroke and looked at me quizzically. "You came all the way down here to ask me what I was doing?"

I couldn't take my eyes off the razor. "No, that's not--"

"Good." He went back to his task. I watched rapt as the blade glinted in the light. I cringed as it made contact with his skin.

"Do you have to do that?"

"What is the matter with you?"

"You're shaving with a scimitar! Isn't there something less dangerous you could use?

He was quite amused by my reaction. "Like what? Some sort of instead-of-shave potion? It's not the same."

"Or an axe, or chainsaw maybe."

"A chainsaw. I'll try that next time I need deforestation." He raised the blade again. Watching me, he prepared for the next swipe. Straight up the neck under his jaw.

"Oh..." I sank down and sat on whatever I had been leaning against. I was absolutely mesmerized by the action of that razor, and he knew it. He held it so that the light flashed off it at the beginning of each stroke. I held my breath each time, daring to exhale only when it came away once more clean, with no trail of blood.

Finally he was finished. He closed the razor and put it on the side of the basin. I reached for it.

"It's sharp," he warned.

It was a beautiful thing really, the handle was ivory, carved with an ornate design. The blade itself unfolded from it with barely a whisper of pressure. The wicked metal gleamed again in the candle light.

"Very sharp." He was sitting beside me.

I never felt the cut when it sliced into my thumb. I watched as a thin trickle of blood ran down from an invisible cut. He handed me the towel he was using, took the razor away and closed it. "You use that on your neck? It's a wonder you haven't killed yourself ten times over."

"You get the hang of it after a while."

"Show me."

He squeezed another trickle of blood out of the cut on my thumb. "There."

"No, really. Show me how to use this."

He sighed in resignation and flipped the blade open again. "Rule one. It has to be sharp. But you know that one already." He held the blade only inches from my face. "Thumb on the blade. Always. Held at just about this angle." He twisted his wrist slightly. "That's important. Keeps it steady." His wrist moved again, quickly this time and I could feel the blade, flat against my cheek. I expected it to be cold, but it wasn't, it was warm and for some reason that made it seem even more sinister. "Too flat, like this, and it will tear you. Too steep," I felt the flat of the blade lift and leave just a thin line of heat, "and it will cut you. Deeply." I'd stopped breathing when the blade touched my face. He lifted it away now and I remembered to exhale. He shifted his position so he was directly behind me. "Don't move." he whispered. He reached around with one hand I felt the blade against my neck. I could feel my own pulse under it. "One needs a very steady hand for this," he said softly, directly into my ear. "How steady do you think mine is?" I closed my eyes. I could see what he was doing as clearly as if we'd been in front of a mirror. "It's easy like this," he continued, "but what if I was distracted?" He kissed me behind my ear and began a trail of kisses down that side of my neck. The hand with the razor never moved. A tiny, involuntary shudder ran through me. He stopped, and held absolutely still. After a moment, he shifted his position yet again and still the blade remained steady. I opened my eyes and looked directly into his. They were nearly incandescent. He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, adjusting his grip on the razor. No matter how he moved, or how he allowed me to move, the pressure of the metal blade on my neck never wavered, never slipped and he never once pulled it away in doubt of his own control. All I was aware of was the pressure of the blade, my racing pulse under it, the blazing points of contact between us. He stopped kissing me, I looked into his eyes, and then I heard it, as clearly as if he'd spoken the words aloud;

Why do you trust me so completely?

I gasped, and tried to move, but he held me fast, I heard that! "I heard that," I whispered more to assure myself, than him. His eyes widened in surprise for a instant, then he closed them and nodded.

I felt the blade move away, leaving a cool shadow on my skin, and heard a soft click as it was sheathed in its ivory handle. I tried to pull myself back into the present moment. When I did, he was flipping the sheathed razor from one hand to the other. I wiped at my neck where the blade had rested, there wasn't as much as a scratch.

"Try that with a chainsaw," he grinned. "Now, what was it you wanted?"

"What?" I could hardly breathe, now he wanted me to think?

"I'm going out. Do you mind if I get ready while you try to remember what you don't know?" He opened a large, dark wooden wardrobe and began scrutinizing its contents.

"Oh! Going out! That's it. This party of yours. Or whatever it is. I can't go."

He looked back at me. "That is a pity. You'd have enjoyed it."

"Maybe, but I've got nothing to wear. I don't even have anything I could transfigure properly. Honestly. I know that's a pitiful excuse."

"Here then, try this." He made some motion that I couldn't quite see and either conjured out of thin air, or produced from the wardrobe a bundle of some gossamer-like fabric that he held out towards me. I shook it out to discover that it was, of course, a gown perfect for the occasion.

"Is this yours?" I asked him warily.

"Yes, I picked it up on a whim. But the color's all wrong and it binds under the arms. Of course it's not mine! Why would you even ask?"

"Because this is the second time you've dressed me for one of your get-togethers! What else have you got in there?" I pointed into the wardrobe. "By the way, I expect a classier crowd at this one."

"Lucius Malfoy wasn't classy enough for you?"

I held up the dress. It was beautiful. I looked at him suspiciously.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"Nothing. That's what's wrong with it. It's too perfect. It's spooky."

He shrugged. "You can wear it or not, I have to get ready. It's late."

He left me in the room with the spooky gown. I decided to wear it.

Once I figured out what to do with my hair, and transfigured just the right shoes I went to ask for help with the buttons on the back of the gown. Why wizards are so averse to zippers I do not know. I stepped into the front room tugging at the last few I could reach. "I'm going to need you to do up these last buttons." I looked up and froze.

If I had been asked to provide an illustration for the word 'sorcerer' in a dictionary, the picture I would have used was standing in front of me now. He wore his usual signature black but intensified from an everyday shadowy, murky lack of color to a shocking vibrant black that looked as impossible as it sounds. His pragmatic wool was gone in favor of an elegant and positively sumptuous creation of some lustrous silken fabric. On top of it all was a heavy, sweeping black velvet robe, traced with silver. I couldn't actually see any pattern in the velvet or embellishments anywhere on the robe, but there was definitely silver in it somewhere and it shimmered in the folds of the robe with his every move. He stopped fiddling with his cuffs and looked at me expectantly.

I stood staring stupidly until he said impatiently, "Well? Come on then."

"Huh?"

"You said you had some buttons that needed tending to."

"I did? Oh. I do."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" He walked over and started tugging at the buttons.

"Sorry," I recovered, "I was stuck in a paradox."

"A paradox."

"Yes, you know, when--"

"I know what a paradox is."

"Well this particular paradox was--are you having trouble back there? I thought I'd done most of them." He was taking a long time with the buttons.

"I'm fine."

"Anyway, this paradox. I was trying to figure out why seeing you dressed like that makes me want to see you not..." he'd stopped buttoning. "Finished? It doesn't feel finished."

I felt a sharp tug and he fastened the last two buttons. "Finished."

"Thank you," I turned around and took a step back to better take in the view. "Who are these people? You're certainly going out of your way to impress them."

"I told you it was formal. I'm not going out of my way to impress anyone."

"Well you've impressed me. I don't think I've ever seen anyone clean up so well."

"Twice in an evening." he said wryly . "I wonder if I can manage a hat-trick?"

"Please."

26.

The portkey dropped us on the side of a deserted road in pitch darkness.

"I should have known," I sighed.

Snape dropped the bottle into a tangle of roots at the foot of a tree. "Our hosts are slaves to tradition. You'll see." He'd hardly finished speaking when I heard the approach of what could only be a horse-drawn carriage.

"Oh, I don't believe this," I mumbled. It was, of course, black, pulled by black horses driven by a driver dressed all in black. It stopped directly in front of us. The driver jumped down and opened the carriage door. I looked at Snape. "This is a joke, right?"

"Just get in."

I climbed in and he followed. The driver shut the door and climbed back up to his seat. Once the carriage started moving, I managed through my disbelief to ask, "We're not going to some secret society meeting, where it looks like a normal party then people start sneaking off, putting on masks and whispering 'Fidelio' to get into the third-rate orgy in the ballroom, are we?"

He looked appalled. "What? No!" He looked out the window for a moment. "Just as a matter of curiosity, how would you define a 'third-rate' orgy?"

"Oh, you know, all soft focus and bad lighting."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Now, your Romans, they knew how to throw an orgy. First-rate all the way. No passwords for a start. Come one, come all. Music, refreshments-- mostly fruit, but still."

His expression changed to one of absolute agony.

"Lots of wine, horses--"

"Horses!"

"Yes. It's a well-known fact."

He had shot up almost completely out of the seat. "It is not!"

"It is, I'll look it up when we get back and show you."

"You won't find it. Not in any book in Hogwarts' library."

"Well it would be in the restricted section."

"The very restricted section! You won't find it because it's not true."

"You said that about the otter. What's the matter? Are you worried about finding a little equine DNA in the Roman end of the gene pool, Sev-er-US?"

The carriage rolled to a stop. As the driver came around to open the door, Snape put his arm across it to block my way. "Listen. There are a couple of things you need to know. First, be especially careful about anything you eat or drink. Second, don't let yourself end up alone, even for a minute, with any of them. And please, please, don't do anything stupid!"

"Who are these people?" I asked angrily. "Why didn't you tell me these rules before we left?"

"Would you have come?"

I didn't know what to expect when we arrived, but I could never have imagined this. These weren't guests so much as a menagerie. I had to fight off the idea that we should have brought students along for a field trip. There were creatures of various classifications, I've never kept up much with the specifics, but I'm sure the beings outnumbered the humans by a large margin. Some of them I could spot, some I wasn't sure about, and some I didn't want to know. There was a string quartet which played beautifully but were so physically unsuited to their instruments it was a wonder as to how they did it. Snape introduced me to some of the guests as he made his way through the gathering and actively avoided others.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Werewolves," he answered gruffly.

"Werewolves in formal dress. How delightful!" I knew he had something against werewolves. It was odd that he felt at ease with vampires, who were dangerous all the time, but avoided werewolves who really just had a few bad days a month. "They seem alright. I prefer them to the vampires."

"The vampires are our hosts."

"And very gracious they are too." I tried to appease him, but when I looked back up at him his eyes were tracking something like they were on strings. I followed his line of vision to find a svelte wisp of a girl flipping white-blonde hair all over the place much to the delight of an enraptured group of assorted males. "That must be the legendary Veela." I said, to myself, I was sure.

Surprisingly, I got an answer. "Um....yes...just a minute..."

I gave up as he wandered away. I looked around and noticed a striking woman watching me. She had vivid red hair and porcelain skin that was so white it seemed to glow. A vampire without a doubt. She approached me and held out a goblet. I took it hesitantly. She laughed, a tinkling soft sound. "It really is wine, you can check it yourself, I don't mind." She had a slight accent that gave her speech a musical quality. I dipped a finger into the goblet, she was right, it was wine. "You came here with Severus. I saw you come in. It is unusual. He is so often alone."

I had no idea what sort of response I was expected to give. "Oh...well. We work together."

She laughed again. "I see." She looked across the room at the fawning group surrounding the Veela. "Beautiful, don't you think?"

"Beautiful? Who's that?" I followed her gaze to see who she was talking about and almost choked when I realized it was Snape. "I don't know about that. Right now he looks exactly like an idiot."

"Veela!" She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "They are like the insect, you know the one. The mantis. She kills her mate while in the very act of love. Bites his head off."

I recoiled at the analogy. I had to change the subject quickly to something that had nothing to do with biting. "Have you known him long?"

"Not as long as some here. All of us have tried to coax him to join us. He would make a magnificent vampire, don't you think?"

I thought I was going to fall through the floor. She looked at him hungrily. Literally. I could only imagine what her idea of coaxing would be. I emptied the goblet in one swallow. "I know more than a few people who think he is one of you."

She looked at me closely, genuinely surprised. Her eyes were a clear green, like stained glass. "Why would they think such a thing?"

I was at a loss for an answer. 'Because he wears black' didn't seem like a reason she'd understand. I wondered if it was worth trying to get his attention.

Would you mind, stepping over here for just one minute, please?

I lifted the goblet and realized too late that it was empty. I made a move towards the table but she was already there, offering the bottle.

"Allow me, please." She reached out and took the goblet and our hands touched. Hers was like ice. Something flickered in her eyes for an instant. She poured the wine, but instead of handing me the goblet she took my hand. Her icy flesh was almost unyielding against mine. I had no idea what she was doing, but felt powerless to stop her. "You have cut yourself," she said quietly. The razor cut had started oozing blood again.

Any time now would be just fine! I stood staring at the narrow ribbon of blood, unable to speak, unable to move.

All at once my vision was blocked by a sweep of black and a glint of silver. I felt my hand being removed from her icy grip and I snatched it back quickly. Snape moved between us. He held the vampire's hand in his, and in a courtly gesture lifted it to his lips.

"Adrianna," he drew the name out in a low scolding tone. "You should have known I'd be watching you."

She snatched her hand away from him. "You were watching nothing but that ridiculous creature! I am disappointed. It is not like you to be so easily dazzled. And here you have brought us such a lovely new friend." She touched my cheek. Her touch sent a shiver right through me. "So full of life. Yet you leave her alone. For what? An illusion." She spat the last word at him.

"You're right," he said in a conciliatory tone. "That was quite uncivilized of me. You will forgive me, won't you?"

"Don't apologize to me! It was not me you abandoned for foolishness." They both looked at me.

"Oh, don't mind me," I said, "I'm just here for the floor show."

Adrianna the vampire laughed and wrapped herself, snake-like around Snape, "I like her, Severus. What do you think? We could use someone with a sense of humor. That is a quality most of us lack."

"No, absolutely no. She's bad enough news for us. The sense of humor you find so charming tonight may very well get stale after five or six hundred years."

"Excuse me," I interrupted their repartee, "I think I'll go chat with the werewolves." It wasn't the fatuous conversation that was bothering me, just watching them together was making me feel off-balance. It was the contrast between them. She was unearthly and cold while he radiated life and heat. That's what she was after, that's what they all flocked to, like moths to a flame. I knew now why she had asked me why anyone would think he was a vampire. Seeing the real thing, it was unimaginable. I reached for the goblet of wine that Adrianna had left on the table and started off. The werewolves looked like they were having a much better time. They had quite a lively card game going. I made it about halfway before Snape caught up with me.

"You're not really going over there, are you?"

"Of course I am. They're the nearest thing to normal here. It's nowhere near a full moon. I'm going to ask them to deal me in. Did you bring any money?" I looked behind him. "What happened to Carmilla?"

"Adrianna. She liked you."

"I got that. What did she have in mind for me, an appetizer? I know you were up for the main course."

"You're right, you know, about what they're attracted to. Look what they surround themselves with. They watch the lives they used to live. What a miserable existence. "

"It makes for an interesting gathering. Go gape at Blondie again if you want to."

"I don't, particularly."

"Well then, do you play poker?"

"Ah, no. And I'd never be stupid enough to get into a game of cards with you."

"You're not suggesting I'd cheat!"

He gave me a sly look. "You're a diviner. Diviners--cards--not a bet I'd care to make."

"I really resent that. See what happens if I ever catch you tending bar!" I left him there and made my way towards the players. It didn't take long to find a place at the table. I looked around to find Snape as the cards were being dealt and found him in what seemed to be earnest conversation with two people who had just arrived. I watched for a while as a few more joined the serious little group. They made there way to an adjoining room.

Don't forget the password!

He turned and glared at me. I was glad I couldn't hear his response. I laid my cards on the table and collected the pot. "Do you think this band knows anything more catchy? Maybe something with a beat?" I asked the player next to me. As it turns out they did. The creature with the violin turned out to be an expert fiddler and someone rounded up some leprechauns who joined in and contributed some very impressive dancing spurred on, of course by the veela.

A while later, I was having a chat with a helpful goblin about starting an account at Gringotts with my winnings when I noticed Snape and his little group emerging from their retreat. He looked exhausted. None of them looked very pleased. They took leave of each other and he headed my way. When he reached me he took my goblet out of my hand and finished off the wine in it. Observing the change in the entertainment he said, "I don't suppose I need to ask if you had anything to do with this?"

"What's wrong? You look awful. What were you doing in there?"

He shook his head and looked angry.

"Oh don't tell me. You forgot the password."

He still looked angry, but I saw a flash of what I hoped was amusement. "I only wish I had." He looked at the pile of coins the goblin was tallying for the Gringotts account. "You won all that?"

"More than that. I had to pay back the guy who spotted me. I can buy my own clothes now." He watched as the goblin swept my money into a sack and handed me a receipt with a very long account number on it.

"Here you are, Miss. You can pick up your key next time you're in London. Just give them that letter at the desk."

"Thank you very much," I leaned down and took the letter. "You've been very helpful." The goblin ambled away.

"You'll never see a knut of that again, you know."

"Oh how do you know? And so what? I didn't have it when I got here so what will it really matter?" He reached out and grabbed two goblets off the tray of a passing waiter, examined their contents and handed one to me. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want to spoil your evening--morning. Go on, enjoy the rest of the party. It'll be dawn soon and they'll have to break it up."

I put the goblet down on a nearby table. "No. Do you know what? I'm ready to go. It's been very interesting and a lot of fun, but I'm ready to leave."

He took a drink and looked around. "Are you sure? Someone must still have some gold you can cheat off them."

"Look at me," he stopped his survey of the guests. "I want to leave. I want you to take me back to Hogwarts now." I reached out and ran my hand down the soft velvet sleeve of his robe. A ribbon of quicksilver followed the touch. "Do you think you could do that for me? I'd be very impressed."