Snape In Love: Chasing Darkness Away

Chapter 20

Capitulation

An hour later, Caius and Tonks had waved their noisy goodbyes from the Hogwarts Express and Severus had breathed a sigh of relief, his pleasure at their departure so palpable that he followed his wife in and out of various shops with what was, for him, exemplary patience. Indeed, Ella had heard him mutter curses under his breath only four times since they had entered Gladrags, their last stop. She grinned to herself as he picked up her packages from the counter, his scowl making the shop assistant blanch and offer her a sympathetic look before scuttling into the back room. A timely, intimate luncheon in a quiet teashop would, she hoped, improve his mood.

Business could be slim in Hogsmeade during school holidays, and so it proved when they arrived at Jolyon Dearborne's Magical Munchtime, a small, exclusive café just off the main street. As she had expected, only one other table was occupied and at their request the effusive Mister Dearborn showed them to a secluded table at the back of the café, where they would be free to talk undisturbed.

"That man is just as annoying as his brainless cousin!" growled Severus once they had placed their order.

"Oh, he isn't so bad," said Ella calmly. "At least he has the good sense to leave us alone. Must have something to do with the way you glared at him!"

"Hmph. Move your chair closer, I don't want anyone to overhear us."

"Oh, and I thought you were asking because you couldn't get close enough to me!" she said mischievously. A smile flickered across his eyes and he took her chin in his hand.

"You know I can never get close enough to you," he murmured hypnotically as he raked a hungry gaze all over her face, before releasing her and continuing in a more acid tone, "but until I'm convinced that that gurning fool has returned to his copy of "Witch Weekly" and won't be bursting out of the kitchen to show us how well his soufflés rise since he discovered 'Lockhart's Light-as-Air Automatic Wand Waver', I think I'd better keep a respectable distance."

"Good old Cousin Gilderoy, he must be good for Mister Dearborn's business."

"This place was always heaving with his nauseatingly eager fans when he was a teacher here," Snape said mordantly. "Luckily for us, he doesn't get out much nowadays!"

"Hmm. Anyway, Persephone looks like she'll sleep for a while. We can eat in peace."

"Voxnonpublica!" Severus muttered and with a flick of his wand an invisible barrier shimmered into view for a few seconds, distorting the deserted tea shop and cocooning them inside. "Now we can talk in private."

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

He rarely had occasion to speak to Ella in the days that followed. Outward appearances notwithstanding, he was far more grimly cheerful than before because each day that passed brought him comfort, for Ella remained. He saw her three times each day, in the Great Hall. His routine was unchanging, and so was hers. Her gaze challenged him, and he thought he knew what it meant. She would stay, and she would make him relent. He began to wonder how long she would last before making a move, and passed idle moments devising new ways to torment her and test her resolve.

His only sorrow was that he yearned for her touch, and ached even more for evidence of the life that was burgeoning inside her. He knew that her pregnancy would advance quickly and deeply regretted depriving himself of every moment. However, he was convinced that he had chosen the only course of action his fragile soul could endure, in the long run, and his conviction bolstered his resolve so that he stood firm.

He spent hours watching their miniatures dance and embrace, weaving around one another, always touching, always loving. It was ironic, really, since he had never danced with her and very possibly never would. Sirius Black had danced with her, of course, although Snape preferred not to dwell on the memory of Valentine's night. When he did, he would imagine Black's facsimile in place of his own and would end the spell angrily, setting the sculpture aside and clenching down on the tight knot of hatred that pulled him in on himself until he thought he would run mad. On other occasions he would hunch over the figures with his nose scant inches from them, examining the folds of Ella's robes as she wove around her lover, staring into their eyes as they gazed at one another, and watching their mouths meet as they kissed. That was sweet torture and the memories it evoked so vivid that he could almost taste her.

One morning Snape reached the top of the stairs into the Entrance Hall to find Ella in the process of crossing it in order to go in to the Great Hall for breakfast. He slowed to a halt when he saw her, his face mask-like, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He said nothing, simply pinning her with his gaze, knowing that she would have to speak.

"Good morning, Severus," she said haltingly as she drew level with him. He stood for a few long moments, long enough to see her step falter, and then, enunciating carefully in a low voice, replied

"Good morning...Miss Redemte." He knew that his deliberately exaggerated formality would imply a great distance between them, and that it would ire her. He lifted an eyebrow enquiringly, challenging her to object. Instead, she lowered her gaze and bowed her head, hurrying on into the Great Hall. His eyes narrowed speculatively as he watched her go and he waited for a few minutes before following, sweeping down the centre aisle to take his place. He glanced across at Ella briefly, seeing her discomposure and congratulating himself bitterly on another successful test of her love for him.

Three weeks passed in this way, and still she remained. He missed her desperately and was beginning to wonder how best to engineer some sort of rapprochement that would save him any loss of face, for he was beginning slowly to believe that perhaps the Fates would abandon their ingrained habits and allow him the happiness their capriciousness had so long denied. However, one morning he was reminded most cruelly of exactly why he should never allow himself to hope.

The owl post brought copies of the Daily Prophet to students and staff alike and although Snape himself rarely read the publication he always welcomed its arrival. The several minutes of hushed concentration that would follow were infinitely preferable to the usual grating hubbub of mindless chatter he generally had to endure. This morning, however, was different. The silence that fell was complete, but after a pause pregnant with anticipation so tangible that it made Snape look up from his cooked breakfast and scowl at the assembly, the noise level slowly began to rise once more, gaining an excitable momentum until it seemed as if every pupil in the school was wide-eyed, chattering, and staring directly at him.

The idiot Black passed his copy across to Snape wordlessly, and Snape snatched it from him with irritation. Opening out the paper, he felt a flush of anger and deep embarrassment begin to creep up his neck as he read the lead article.

"The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that the special relationship Professor Severus Snape, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, formed with Miss Ella Redemte, ex-Hogwarts student and world traveller, has ended, despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that she is pregnant with his first child. The erstwhile Death Eater has made few friends since beginning his tenure as potions master, and his legendary sour temper has obviously proved too great a challenge for Miss Redemte, who appears unable to stick at anything for very long. However, she has recently returned to Hogwarts from a long holiday in France, courtesy of Beauxbatons Academy, and this reporter awaits further developments with interest."

The evil, scheming, shameless witch had done it deliberately. If she thought she could force him into a corner by deliberately exposing such intimate details of their private lives in such a base, underhand fashion, then she was very much mistaken. To divulge details of her pregnancy after he had ordered her specifically to keep her condition a secret was insupportable, and he would not forgive such betrayal. He lifted his eyes from the printed page and sent a wave of pure fury directly from them to hers. She was looking at him helplessly, apparently filled with horror, but he was not fooled. Not wishing to remain the subject of such intense scrutiny by so many, he rose from his seat, curled his lips into a sneer and swept out through the door behind his chair.

He set off in the direction of the dungeons, intending to avoid all human contact until it was absolutely necessary, but he soon realised that the Headmaster would, no doubt, feel the need to call an immediate staff meeting to discuss the issue. Such was his wont, under circumstances such as these. He sighed impatiently and retraced his steps until he reached a faded tapestry of a stormy seascape behind which was hidden a secret passageway to the staff room corridor. He would be the first to arrive, and he hoped to have sufficient opportunity to master his temper before he had to confront her. She was pregnant, after all.

Sure enough, Professors Flitwick and Sprout arrived a few minutes after him. They greeted him cautiously and he snarled a curt reply. They took their places in two of the winged arm chairs that surrounded the fire, and were joined soon afterwards by Minerva McGonagall whose lips were pursed even more tightly than usual. He did not want to sit, because that would mean relinquishing his chair for Ella when she arrived and he was too cross to be able to do so with good grace. Instead, Snape stood at the fireplace with his arms folded across his chest, glowering at the staff room door. When Ella entered, he glared at her with ill-disguised fury. She crossed the room hesitantly, letting her robes fall open to reveal a moss green sweater which clung to the unmistakeable swell of her belly. There was no reason for her to cover herself now that their secret was out, and he felt simultaneous flashes of anger and wonder, turning from her so that she could not see the conflict in his eyes. He remembered well the shifting of her stomach as he had pressed his cheek to her and acquainted himself with their child and he yearned to do it again, cursing himself for denying himself the opportunity even though he knew there was nothing else he could do. Ella took her place in his chair and the room's reluctant occupants kept the awkward silence until the Headmaster arrived.

"This is not exactly the outcome for which I had hoped, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly after he had closed the staff room door behind him.

"While I, on the other hand, am ecstatic at this latest turn of events!" scowled Snape, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His desire to take Ella in his arms and embrace his new family despite his anger gnawed at his gut and the only way he could disguise his anguish was to curdle it with bile. "Tell me," he continued, turning on Ella, "what other little revelations can we expect from Rita Skeeter?"

"How should I know? I've never even met her!" she objected tremulously, shrinking from his piercing glare. He did not believe her, and his gaze never wavered as he asked coldly,

"Are you sure?"

"I think Ella would remember if she had, Severus!" Professor McGonagall said tartly, earning a sharp look in return. "The point is, Albus, what line should we take with the students? And the board of governors?"

"Leave the governors to me," the Headmaster replied calmly. "As heads of houses I expect you to field any questions from your students with tact and discretion,"

"Hah!" Snape expostulated. If any of his Slytherins dared to question him on such a personal matter he would ensure that they scraped cauldrons every night for a month.

" - I appreciate, Severus, that in many ways you will find this difficult, nevertheless I expect your professionalism to win through," Dumbledore continued pointedly. "As for how Ms Skeeter obtained her information - I do not see anything to be gained by pointing the finger of blame at any one individual. I am quite sure her scoop did not come from Ella, it would not be in her best interests to compromise her position here, Severus. She no doubt culled her information from many sources. A few lucky guesses and the right questions asked would give her an accurate enough story."

Snape glared across the room. Once again his opinion was to be dismissed.

"Will that be all, Headmaster?" he asked in a low voice.

"I believe so, for the moment."

With a last bitter glance at Ella, who sat gripping the arms of his chair and staring at the hem of his robes, he swept past her and out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Now that the whole mess was out in the open he had to take stock of this shift in their situation. The entire school knew not only that Ella was pregnant, but that she had obviously returned for that very reason; and the entire school would have been able to gather that they were no longer together.

No longer together. Ah, but he wanted her back. He had tried not to stare too much across the Great Hall, but seeing her in the staff room, her gait noticeably affected now by the magnitude of her condition, changed everything. He strode down the corridor, hearing the staff room door open behind him and then swing shut.

"Severus!"

He stopped, his billowing robes deflating around him. It was Ella, once again unable to let him walk away from her.

"Severus! Dumbledore was right, I had nothing to do with the article, I swear! Talk to me, please?" she implored.

His fists clenched at his sides. He could not bear to talk to her now. She would confuse him, disarm him, emasculate him, love him until he submitted to her. He would never allow that to happen again. If he ever allowed her back into his life it would be on his terms. He strode on, quickening his pace, until he reached a side corridor suitable for his escape.

Black was half way through Snape's third year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw potions class by the time he had returned to the dungeons, so Snape walked straight past the closed classroom door and accessed his office by means of the connecting door from his bedroom. He intended to lose himself in the latest issue of 'Ars Alchemica' in which there was a fascinating article about the use of small doses of asphodel to quell gestational nausea. Perhaps not the best subject matter when he was trying to shut Ella out of his mind, but he reassured himself that he would be reading it for its academic content to assimilate the knowledge therein, and not out of any personal interest.

However, all he could do as he read it was wonder how he had missed all of the symptoms of her early pregnancy; the morning sickness, the irritability, the frequent visits to the lavatory, and so on. He had been so self absorbed, so convinced that the deterioration in their relationship had been due to his past misdeeds, that he had missed all the signs. He should have looked outside his own guilt and noticed her suffering. He should have prevented all the heartache they had both suffered and he should be with her now.

Exasperated, he flung the periodical across the room. She was doing it again, manipulating his thoughts, controlling him and bending him to her will. He would not be swayed so easily. She was carrying his child; it did not mean she owned him body and soul. It did not mean that at all.

His lessons were conducted in silence that day. He began each of the remaining classes with a sour warning that he would brook no idle chatter, and the menace in his demeanour as he prowled amongst the bubbling cauldrons stifled any possible speculation by his students. If he could have silenced their chattering tongues outside the classroom as well than he might have been less infuriated, but as it was by the time he had reached the Great Hall that evening the number of whispered conversations he had disturbed while walking the corridors were too numerous to be counted on two hands and his palms hurt from the constant clenching of his fists.

He had missed luncheon and knew that to be absent from dinner too would cause even more gossip, so he braved the wide eyes and the slack-jawed gapes and took up his usual position at the staff table. He knew that as soon as the first course appeared on the long refectory tables all attention would shrink to a small circle mere inches away from each inquisitive nose in the room, and there it would stay, distracted, for the duration of the meal. He would be free to enjoy his dinner, as far as he was able under the circumstances.

Halfway through the meal the double doors swung open and Ella made her entrance. He had noted that she had not taken her place and had felt a twisted satisfaction at her absence. He had thought that perhaps she had been sufficiently cowed by his demeanour in the staff room that morning as to prefer not to face him. He had underestimated her resolve, yet again, for now there she stood, a vision in grey gossamer silk and chiffon, a faerie wraith come once more to haunt him in wakefulness just as she did his dreams. All was suddenly silent as she began her slow procession between the long tables and the sound of falling cutlery might just as well have been the clanging of jaws dropping to the table tops as she passed.

She was lovely. Her dress skimmed her body as she walked, clinging to her lush fecundity and trailing out behind her as if caressed by a gentle breeze. Her hair fell to her waist, all the colours of autumn represented in one glorious affirmation of her ripeness, and he remembered how it felt to bury his face in it across their pillow and how its silken strands would brush across his thighs when she loved him. Her face glowed and her eyes never left his own, sure and steady as she grew nearer. He would lose himself in those eyes, he knew it very well, and he could not afford to let his defences crumble in so public an arena.

Indeed, he was furious with her. She should know better than to flaunt their relationship in front of the whole school as if it were merely some salacious tidbit for the entertainment of the ignorant masses. Hardening his resolve, he returned her gaze with a thunderous glare, clutching his knife and fork so tightly in his hands that his knuckles were white. She reached the staff table at last and passed round behind it. He stared ahead resolutely, only turning slowly to face her when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Her touch sent shock waves through him and when he met her gaze once more it was only to convey to her his wrath and disapproval in such a way as to be unmistakeable to her.

"Severus," she said quietly, and in so gentle a tone that he felt white hot rage at her deviousness.

"What do you think you're doing, flaunting yourself like this?" he hissed.

"We need to talk. Right now. You know where to find me."

Before he could reply, she turned and made for the door behind his chair that led to the dungeons. So that was her game. He was supposed to follow her, like an obedient lap dog seeking its mistress's favour. He scowled at the sea of faces turned upwards to his. Almost without exception, they were amazed and awaiting his reaction. He was damned if he would give it to them, so he simply placed his knife and fork neatly on his plate and plucked the napkin from his knee, wiping his mouth and throwing it on to the table.

"Go after her, Severus!" Lupin murmured.

"Shut up, Lupin!"

"Go to her! She came back for you, you know she'll make you happy, man!"

Snape gave him a look of the utmost contempt, but then scraped back his chair and swept out of the Hall through the same door that Ella had taken minutes before. He would like to see how she justified making such a public spectacle of them both, for she could not blame this particular turn of events on Rita Skeeter.

She was waiting for him in his classroom, sitting sideways on a chair beside one of the desks. She stood up as he burst in and he noticed the deliberate care she had to take as she rose to her feet, even bracing herself with one hand on the desk. His heart lurched as he thought of the baby inside her but he allowed the strength of his temper to subdue any sentimentality, barking at her,

"In here!" and unlocking the door to his office. He strode inside, leaving her to follow in his wake, and he locked and warded the door behind them with an impatient wave of his wand, carrying straight on into his bedroom before he realised what he had done. It was too late to backtrack and return into the more neutral territory of the office, she would surely notice his discomposure and profit from it, so instead he decided that the only course of action available to him was to brave it out.

"Well? Wasn't this morning enough for you?" he began icily, folding his robes around himself in an unconsciously protective gesture. "Can you even begin to imagine the sort of day I've had? The whispering in class, the incredulous laughter in the corridors?"

"I don't need to imagine it, Severus, I've had it all day too!" she said quietly.

"And you decided to make it even worse! Do you realise the damage you have just done to my standing here? To my reputation, my position at this school?"

"The damage was done this morning, and not by me. Do you realise the damage you're doing to our lives?"

"The damage I'm doing? How can I possibly be damaging something that's already broken beyond repair?" he spat, knowing how hurtful his words were and revelling in them.

"Don't say that when you so obviously don't mean it! Stop playing games with me, it isn't you!"

She advanced towards him and it was all that he could do to stand his ground, although he did not even know in which direction he would have run, had he been able; away from her arms or straight into them. Standing inches away from him and gazing deep into his eyes she said,

"I miss you. I can't stand it, Severus. I can't bear to be without you."

Hurt flashed across his face but his scowl held.

"You bore it well enough for these last few months!"

"I missed you every day- "

"Hah!"

"I never stopped loving you!"

"You went too far, and now it's over."

"It was a chemical imbalance, Severus! Surely you can understand the concept? We need you! I need you, and the baby needs you!"

"I'm sure I'll be no great loss to the baby!" he sneered caustically.

"Oh, for God's sake, Severus!" she screamed at him, losing her temper at last. "Do you have to be so intractable? Stop punishing me for something that wasn't even my fault! I miss you! I miss you! I MISS YOU!"

She beat her fists against his chest and began to sob uncontrollably. His face contorted with anguish and he grabbed her wrists and held them still, his lips drawn in a tight line, a deep frown between his eyes. She let herself slump against him, resting her head on his chest and moaning in despair. Her familiar scent made his nostrils flare and he had to resist the urge to bury his face in her hair and crush her to him. Tamping down the fire of his love for her with cold memories of how she had betrayed him, he released her wrists after a while and let his hands drop to his sides.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Severus," she continued in a low voice, struggling to regain a modicum of composure. "You think that if you succeed in driving me away, you'll prove to yourself that you were right to shut me out. But you're not! And all the time, you're hoping I'll stay and fight, and I will, love, as long as it takes! Even if I have to steal in here in the dead of night and lay your newborn child next to you while you sleep so that you wake up to its cries! I'll be here."

She had straightened up as she spoke and now she held his gaze unwaveringly. She had finally given him the emotional reaction he had craved for weeks, the immutable proof that she still loved him despite his best endeavours to drive her away. And she understood him, utterly.

She reached up to touch his cheek with her hand and he closed his eyes, his frown deepening, and she stroked the edge of his mouth with her thumb. He wanted to lean in to her touch but he could not move, could barely even breathe, and he did not know what to do. He was atop a waterfall once again, burning with sorrow and too hurt to take the dive into the cool green waters of her love.

There was a jarring, startling knocking and time ground into gear once more. His eyes snapped open and he crossed the room swiftly to the safety of his office half relieved to be able to disengage himself, closing the door behind him. Opening the door through into the classroom he saw the fearful face of one of the third year Hufflepuffs.

"What do you want?"

"Please, Professor Snape, sir, it's eight o'clock and I've come to do my detention, sir!"

"Detention is cancelled. No, I mean - go to see Professor Sprout, tell her I've sent you to help out with the mandrakes. Well, go on then, get out!"

He slammed the door on the terrified student and locked it again. Turning around, he took stock of his surroundings, taking long moments to cast his gaze over the serried ranks of bell jars, vials and bottles, the piles of books, the dragon hide gloves resting next to the variously sized cauldrons, the desk with its rolls of parchment, its quills and ink. For years his life had been encapsulated in this one small room, a private realm all his own in which he was an impregnable fortress that repelled any attempted invasion. Now his room had telescoped in length, its sudden expanse a chasm and the connecting door at its opposite end miles away.

There was a huge divide between the life he had and the life he now knew was his for the taking and as he began to cross it he was more apprehensive than he had ever been. The room could be measured in no more than ten paces from door to door, but there might as well have been a hundred, for he felt as though he was wading through the thick soup of a shifting bog, the safe misery of his past weighing him down and holding him back. He reached the door an eternity later and stood for a moment to take a deep breath before opening it on his future.

His eyes were drawn to her at once, her body silhouetted in the window and her hair burnished red in the evening sunlight. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, shrouded in shadow and watching her.

After a few moments pregnant with possibilities she said,

"Everything has to be black and white with you, Severus, and it isn't. There are so many shades of grey. Otherwise, how do you think I could have forgiven you for my parents and my sister? But I did, didn't I? I do! And I know I made a mistake, but I've explained, you should be able to understand why!"

She sounded so tired, he thought. So weary of it all. He was weary of it, too, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her so. Perhaps he had made them both suffer enough. She continued,

"So why can't you stop messing about like this and just love me? Why do you have to be so absolute about everything?"

Enough.

"Because - because that's the way I love you, Ella. Absolutely. Utterly. Without any qualification," he said quietly.

He watched as she got to her feet and took a few hesitant steps towards him. He was mesmerised by her, unable to move to join her even though he had just offered her his soul. At last she was before him, her hand resting on his chest, and she let out a sigh that was almost a sob as his arms slipped around her waist. She trembled as she circled his neck with her arms and he allowed her to pull his head down to hers, running her fingers through his hair and sending tiny currents of electricity through him.

It was she who kissed him, and not the other way around, not at first. It was only the slightest brush of her lips against his but it moved him more than any other they had ever shared. She repeated the action, lingering a fraction longer, and then again, trapping the side of his bottom lip between hers and tugging at it so gently as she retreated. Each new kiss was a little longer and deeper than the one before, and he could not stop himself from moaning and shuddering with emotion.

She leaned into him and the kisses flowed into one another until they were one endless, tender, loving kiss, which deepened as he crushed her to him. The tips of their tongues touched at last, and he felt a surge of electricity charge through them both as she tightened her grip on his hair. He felt her tongue slide against his as it began its yearning exploration of her mouth, and then he was drawing it into himself, sucking it, laving it with his own, feeling the roundness of her belly pressing into him as he tried to wrap himself all around her, demanding and desperate to be closer to her, sensing her crumple against him, holding her to him.

He did not know how long they stood there in that glorious embrace, but after a while her stomach began to shift against that part of him that was a joyful manifestation of his happiness, and his breathing became ragged with an excitement he did not know whether he could control. Then all at once he realised that it was not Ella squirming against him, but his baby, and he began to smile against her lips and then laugh delightedly, stroking her hair and touching her face and planting gentle kisses all over it. He was embracing both her and his child, his family, his heart's desire.

"Severus," she gasped as he kissed her breath away, "I need to know - is this what you want?"

Ah, how could she doubt it?

"Absolutely..." he whispered, over and over.

Much later, when they had sat close together unable to believe that their reconciliation was real, when at last sufficient words had been spoken to reassure one another of their sincerity, he took her to bed. As he looked down at her, standing before him just inches away, her belly distended with their child, he could barely speak.

"You've never looked so beautiful," he said brokenly, and Ella cried then, moving closer to him and winding her arms around his waist. He could scarcely bear the bliss of her satin skin against his, the warmth and the softness and the willingness of her, so he lay her down on the bed, climbing in beside her and propping himself up on one elbow, his body moulding itself into the newness of her curves. He leant over to kiss her and exulted in her soft sigh as his hand reached down to her full breasts. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held his head close to hers, planting kisses over his mouth and his jaw which he returned half in a trance, her taste and her scent, jasmine and musky arousal and Ella, more intoxicating than anything he could ever brew.

He closed his eyes then, nuzzling her cheek with his nose and lips, breathing her name as he touched her. Half reluctantly his hand left the luscious ripeness of her breasts with their hard pebbled peaks, to travel down over her swollen stomach, stroking these new curves, mapping and learning the wondrous convexity of her, worshipping her, eventually travelling lower still until the smoothness gave way to furze, and sweet fragrant dampness beyond. She began to wriggle and arch against him now, one impatient hand stroking up and down his back and then, tiring of that, pushing him over on top of her. He did not need to be invited twice, and he moved over her then, on all fours between her parted legs, gazing down questioningly into eyes that were almost black, and stormy with desire too long denied. He was achingly hard, and when her hand grasped his length firmly he moaned and felt a tightening in his abdomen. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and let out a muffled cry as she arched her hips to meet him, letting him nudge at her entrance.

"It's been so long..." she breathed as he suckled, flicking his tongue over the hard nub until he felt her begin to tremble beneath him. He dragged his mouth up along her collarbone and her neck until he reached the prize of her lips once more, and as they kissed he shifted slightly and made her cry out into his mouth,

"Ah!"

Her desire for him alone almost made him come. He was very slow and gentle, his body shaking as he lowered it on to hers. He wanted her so much, months of pent up need and misery were about to be expunged, but he did not want to abandon himself completely to the sensation lest he hurt her.

"Is it okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke, licking her lips with his tongue.

"Yes! Yes!" she panted, tangling her fingers in his long black hair again as if she was totally unaware of what that gesture always did to him. At last he let himself go and they became one, crying out at the sudden sensation of completeness, of rightness, of pure sweet bliss.

"Oh, Severus! Hold me!" she cried, and he slid his arms underneath her, taking his weight on his elbows and clasping her to him, connected, marvelling in the sensation of being as one once again. She was too big now to wrap her legs around him, but she gripped his hips between her knees and squeezed hard, encouraging their closeness. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply of her, kissing her long chestnut locks and drawing them into his mouth, wanting to absorb everything about her into himself and never release her.

"I've missed you!" he groaned into her ear and was answered by her hands clenching convulsively into his shoulders, urging him on. Her cries intensified and she began to call out his name, and he gazed down into the depths of her eyes and saw into her soul, holding her eyes open by sheer strength of will so that he could see her passion and her bliss and her love for him. She writhed and bucked under him and he was overwhelmed by her, feeling her power as the tight burning in the pit of his stomach began to grow and spread. Then it began, and he threw back his head and called out her name back at her, holding each other tightly as they drifted slowly back down to earth.

He fancied that their shared passion had melded them together and the notion delighted him; however, he knew that he could not lie on top of his child for too long and so he shifted to one side, sliding from her with a sigh. She snuggled into his arms and buried her face in his chest, and he lay half on his back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling, seeing only her limbs in its columns, her curves in its arches. He caressed his baby with one hand, his love's back with the other, and thanked the Fates for allowing him at last the opportunity to love them both.

***

As the days passed he took ever more delight in her. He felt she had no secrets from him now, save for the one she might or might not share with Sirius Black, and that one he tried as far as possible to put out of his mind. Most of the time there was in any case little room for it, since he was far too occupied with loving her, watching her swell and bloom, and relishing his new role as expectant father and protector. He did feel inordinately protective of her, so much so that he convinced himself effortlessly that there were aspects of his past that she would simply never need to hear, for what good would it do? His conscience prickled at times but on balance it was far better that she was kept in ignorance. She knew he had poisoned her parents, and still she had come back to him. There was no reason to enlighten her with unnecessary detail which would only upset her and therefore their child.

There was certainly little to be gained from sharing with her the horrific details of Voldemort's many depravities against his person. He did not wish to remember them himself, and so he saw no reason to inflict them on Ella. The fact that he still had secrets from her did not worry him unduly. She knew where his loyalties lay, and she did not question him. For now, that was all the justification he required.

Their lovemaking became more loving than ever before, if that were possible. She was as insatiable as he, and they stole moments of intimacy wherever and whenever they could, as well as spending as much time as was humanly possible in the welcoming haven of their bed.

The NEWTS and OWLS had been set weeks earlier, but he found those days that were taken up with invigilating the exams long and tedious, and he would fret over where Ella was, and what she was doing. He tried not to let his insecurities show, but the memory of her absence was still too fresh in his mind for him not to wonder sometimes whether he walked in a waking dream, and he waited anxiously for the dreaded stumble back into a world without her. She, of course, wore the emerald and had no such concerns, always knowing when he would return, always waiting with open arms and a welcoming smile. He knew that she never took the stone from her neck, ever, and this pleased and comforted him, and he began to wonder when would be the most propitious time to entrust its smaller twin to her safekeeping. He was eager to marry her. They had already agreed that she should move into his rooms officially, and Albus had agreed his plans to extend his living quarters into the adjacent suite of rooms, which had stood empty for many years. Now all he had to do was ask her.

At last the exams were all over and the school breathed a collective sigh of relief. Snape had managed to mark most of his students' theory papers while invigilating or overseeing the practical examinations that followed, and so after the last exam had been completed only that one required his attention. By the time the last Potions NEWT was over, all scrolls had been marked and locked away, and all potions had been tested and either summarily thrown down the sink or labelled and stored away for future use. Impatiently, Snape ushered the last of the students out of his classroom, trying to ignore the fact that one of the Gryffindor girls was blinking back tears, and closed the door behind them. He leaned against it in relief and rolled his eyes as he heard subdued voices rise in both pitch and excitement as they compared notes and fled the dungeons, happily beginning to realise that their examinations were now over.

With a heartfelt sigh, Snape surveyed the empty classroom before him. Serried rows of desks, each with its own small cauldron, cleaned out but left for his inspection. A large collection of beakers and sealed vials on the workbench, all labelled and awaiting his perusal. Even from across the room he could already tell by their varying colours which would pass and which would fail. He raised an eyebrow in jaundiced surprise. The results this year might prove to be of an unusually high standard. There was little chance that next year's crop would reach the same level, he thought, grimacing as he thought of each prospective candidate's particular deficiencies. However, he did not need to worry about cramming vital knowledge into unreceptive numbskulls for over eight weeks, and by the time there were students in his charge once more, he would be a father and, if the Fates were willing, a husband too. He allowed himself a small, quick smile as he hastened towards the door to his office and the bedroom beyond.

Ella was waiting for him and rose awkwardly to her feet as he entered.

"So, it's all over for another year, then?" she smiled as they embraced.

"Thankfully," he replied, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply of her.

"However will you fill your time over the summer?" she mocked.

His hands dropped to her enticingly ample buttocks and he squeezed them firmly, pulling her against him so that she could feel his reaction to the suggestiveness in her tone.

"I'm sure I'll think of something to keep myself entertained!"

That evening after dinner he had closeted himself away in his office to grade the last batch of potions and mark the papers. Now, everything was done and he lay in bed with a sleeping Ella sated in his arms, and as he closed his eyes and searched for sleep, he sighed. Severus Snape was a happy man.