Refuge

Chapter 5

"That was the worst spell I have ever been under."

Charles Applethorn stroked Rosmerta's hand. "I never would have expected it of Severus. He doesn't seem the type."

"It wasn't Severus," Rosmerta replied, jerking her hand from his. She briskly explained how she had found the dress in the attic.

"Ah, you found my little vixen," Applethorn chuckled when she told him about Narcissa. "There were plenty of rumors circulating after she made her debut, and my cousin Nat died. If you ask me, she had nothing to do with it. He was a gloomy sort of person all his life, subject to poetry and fits of melancholy and whatnot. I was too young to interest her at the time, but her portrait seems to think quite highly of me."

"Don't trust it, Mr. Applethorn--you should get rid of it at once. It's a dangerous influence."

"Ha! Stay with me, darling, and you'll be safe."

Rosmerta dodged from beneath his arm, although part of her was tempted to stay. He had kindly lent her some of his wife's old clothes, and told her that she didn't have to return to the attic. He had shown her to a small bedroom that happened to be just across the hall from his own. But she wanted none of a married man; she had learned that lesson more than once in the past. Besides, after awakening to discover that she had been throwing herself at Severus Snape, she wanted nothing more to do with men in general for the moment.

"I just need some fresh air," she said quickly, closing the door between them as he made to follow her. She found herself in the garden she had seen from her window, and sighed with relief when she realized that Applethorn wasn't behind her. She needed to be alone. Her one thought was to walk down by the water to try to collect herself.

Rosmerta had never been in such a beautiful mansion or garden. She wasn't altogether sure that she liked the sad grandeur of the twisted trees and overgrown flowerbeds. The sight of the towering oak shivered her skin, but the silhouette of the man sitting beneath it stopped her short. Snape was sitting beside a fire, gazing out over the water.

The last person she wanted to see was Severus Snape. From what she could remember of their dinner, her behavior had been completely embarrassing. The worst part had been the fact that it wasn't entirely un-enjoyable; part of her had relished seducing him--the darker, naughtier side that had governed her nature when she was younger. Rosmerta hoped to slip back to the house unnoticed, but he spotted her and called her name.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she snapped, although she found herself approaching the fire anyway.

"It is necessary that we speak."

Rosmerta found herself profoundly grateful that Snape did not seem to want to discuss the disastrous dinner. If he kept a civil tongue, sharing his fire might be better than returning to the mansion to dodge Applethorn's advances for the rest of the night. Still, after she had been sitting with Snape quietly for several minutes, Applethorn's company seemed more and more appealing. Finally, she felt she had to break the silence.

"I thought you wanted to talk." Rosmerta noticed that the dying fire served to deepen the shadows on Snape's sallow face. She found the effect not entirely unflattering.

"You can't go home," he said softly. "You must stay here and help Draco Malfoy."

Rosmerta snorted and rose from the fireside. "We're not having this conversation," she snapped.

"It will be safer for you here."

"No one is safe around that wretched boy."

"Sit down. I believe once you hear what I have to say, you will agree to what I ask."

Rosmerta hesitated. The only thing she really wanted was to return home safely, and he had made it clear that he was not prepared to offer her that. After much hesitation, she crouched down on the other side of the fire. Snape tossed a few more branches on top of the dying embers, which flared up greedily.

"Draco will be subject to fits of both mental and physical torture in the weeks ahead," Snape continued matter-of-factly. "He will need someone to tend to him during these times. You must do this."

"Hasn't it struck you, Severus, that I might want him to go through some pain? He did place me under the Imperius Curse for quite a while, you'll recall. And I'm no healer. What do I know about tending an ailing Death Eater brat? Less than nothing, that's what."

"I will instruct you in the proper method of making potions that will relieve his pain and anxiety to a small extent."

"But where does this get me? Nursemaid to a viper? Forget it. I'll swim home before I do this for you."

Snape continued as though she had not spoken. "There may come a time when he will desire to return to the Dark Lord's service, but you must not let him go."

"I will not do this."

"Your will has been severely damaged, Rosmerta."

His sudden statement brought her up short. "What?"

Snape sat quietly beneath his tree and stared into the renewed flames as he spoke. "The Imperius Curse gradually diminishes and impairs free will in the long run. Those who are placed under the curse are often all too easy to control after they are freed from it, particularly when they have endured it for great lengths of time. They often find it much more difficult to assert their own wills afterwards, or to follow their own desires. Some become like children, and can only function if they are constantly given direction. Some lose all sense of purpose in life, and end up like the boy who hanged himself from this tree."

Rosmerta laughed, although a shudder ran through her body at his last observation. "Then why is it so easy for me to say 'no' to you right now?" she challenged.

Her laughter died as his black eyes stared into hers intently. He rose and walked to where she was sitting, never dropping his gaze. She stared back in fascination, unable to look away.

"You say no, but your will is ready to respond to outside influences," he said calmly as he drew her to her feet. Rosmerta found herself standing close to him beneath the great tree. A chilly wind had begun to blow off the water. She tried to pull her cloak closed with her free hand, but he quickly claimed it with his own.

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it. Remember the dress from the attic, Rosmerta; it was obviously a Dark Object, yet you readily put it on when Narcissa brought your attention to it. Before the curse, you would have had an easier time resisting her suggestions. You would have been able to assert what you wanted."

"I don't want to talk about the dress!" she snapped as her cheeks grew hot.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

"I don't have to do that anymore. I'm free now," she murmured as she found herself, for the third time that night, reaching up to press her lips to his. His hands tightened a bit around hers in response, but he slowly pulled away from her embrace.

"I will not do that again," he said calmly, although she detected an underlying tension in his voice. "I can help you regain your will if you watch over Draco while I am gone. I can instruct you in the arts of restraint and control."

Rosmerta's heartbeat was beginning to return to normal as she considered his words. "I must renounce my will to regain my will," was her unhappy realization.

Snape released her hands and turned back to the fire, feeding it several more branches. "If you wish to live your own life, you must accept this bargain. There is no potion in the world that can give you your will back, no spell. I can teach you how to master it again. I can show you how to regain control."

Rosmerta considered this. She had no reason to doubt his words, as they had just been proven true. She had been independent for nearly her entire life, and the idea that this independence was damaged--that she would be beholden to the whims of others for the rest of her life--was terrifying.

"When will you teach me?" she asked in measured tones.

"I will teach you after the war is decided, not before. I will be a marked man until then and you will not want to be seen with me."

"What if you...don't survive?"

"Then our bargain will be voided. I cannot promise that I will survive, but I've made it this far." A rather disturbing grin twisted his thin mouth as he spoke.

She slumped down by the fire again. "I accept," she said in a small voice. It was a beginning at least.

He nodded. "Go back to the house and sleep. Tomorrow you will begin your duties."

Rosmerta found that his orders calmed her, and knew with a sinking feeling that this was not a good sign. She tried standing still before the fire instead of returning to the mansion, but found that this act of disobedience made her extremely uncomfortable.

The fire suddenly flared, illuminating Snape's sharp profile. "Go," he repeated in low tones. "And lock your bedroom door tonight."

Rosmerta felt relief flood through her body as she fled back through the damp gardens to the brightly lit mansion.