Snape In Love: Chasing Darkness Away

Chapter 21

Adoration

"Why are you looking at me like that, Ella?" Snape asked quizzically, cocking his head to one side as he noticed the glassy expression in her eyes. She was leaning forward with one elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand as she gazed at him.

"Hmm? Oh, I was just reminiscing along with you..." she smiled suggestively.

"Indeed? Well then, if you were keeping up with what I was saying then you will have noticed that my recollections of some of our more intimate moments were quite some time ago!" he said sharply. "Have you been listening to me at all for the last ten minutes?"

"Yes, of course I have! I heard every word! It's just that - "

" - Just that you would like me to take you home now and - "

"Yes!"

"Punish you for your inattention?" he mocked. "Never agree to anything without first knowing all the facts, Ella! You are far too headstrong and foolhardy," he admonished, pushing his empty coffee cup and saucer towards the centre of the table and wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

"Am I indeed?" Ella laughed, scraping back her chair and getting to her feet. "I think I have a pretty good idea what form my 'punishment' will take, Severus!"

He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap, appraising her coolly.

"I think you're taking too much for granted."

"Then take me home and we'll put it to the test!"

He narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet, standing so close to her that she had to tilt back her head in order to look into his eyes.

"Very well. If you believe that I will wait so long," he murmured, his eyes travelling over her face hungrily. He noticed her shiver and he dropped his voice further as he growled, "I might prefer to find a secluded alleyway, or better still, a welcoming patch of springy grass behind a hawthorn hedge."

Ella's eyes grew dark but before she had the chance to respond the door to the café's kitchens burst open and Severus took a step back from her as Mister Dearborne fussed his way across to their table.

"Leaving so soon? Can I interest you in a frothy cappuccino?"

"No, thank you," Severus replied stiffly.

"A coconut macaroon?"

"No, I think not."

Mister Dearborn was nothing if not tenacious and he practically grabbed Severus' cloak in his attempts to press them to change their minds. Ella noticed that all his rather fawning attention was directed towards her husband, and with a wry smirk wondered whether or not she had been unwittingly covered by an invisibility cloak. Her husband drew himself up to his fullest and most affronted height as Lockhart's cousin continued,

"A cheese soufflé! I have the most wonderful contraption in my kitchen. You look like the sort of man who would appreciate a perfectly risen savoury treat!"

Severus' limited patience snapped.

"Get out of my way!" he snarled, striding from the small café in a flurry of billowing irritation. Ella sucked in her lips over her teeth and bit down gently to try and contain the laughter that threatened to bubble from her. She hurriedly withdrew an assortment of coins from her pocket and left them on the table before grabbing the handles of Persephone's pushchair and hastening after her husband before Jolyon Dearborne tried to force her into buying half a dozen of his fairy cakes.

She caught up with him halfway down Hogsmeade's main street. He was standing with his shoulders hunched and his arms folded, staring into the shop window of the apothecary's. At her approach he turned his head and glared at her for a moment before resuming his examination of the dried herbs hanging from hooks and the multicoloured rows of bottles arranged underneath them.

"There's no need to look at me that way, it's hardly my fault I'm not the only one to find you irresistible!" she teased gently, earning a glowering snarl this time.

"I'm looking for something I can mix together and slip inside one of the wretched man's soufflés so that I can force feed it to him on my way home!"

Ella composed herself, deciding that now was not the time for mirth or merriment.

"No, love," she said huskily, winding her arm around his waist. "Let's not waste any time. Take me home, and tell me about when you asked me to marry you."

His eyes glittered as he looked down at her, and she licked her lower lip.

"And then make love to me," she whispered.

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

And so, at last, the final weekend before the end of term arrived and with it the culmination of a year's worth of Quidditch matches; the House Cup. Ella had insisted that she wanted to go despite the fact that her mobility had been somewhat impaired by the strains imposed on her body by late pregnancy, and so since the final was due to start at ten o'clock they set off together for the Quidditch pitch immediately after breakfast.

Snape had to slow his pace considerably to match hers otherwise she would have been left miles behind.

"What on earth am I going to be like in a few weeks' time?" she complained.

"You probably won't be able to walk at all," he commented dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as she glared at him. "I should have brought my broom, you could have flown to the staff stand in style!"

"Hah! Not a chance! You won't see me on a broom again in a hurry!"

"Why ever not? What's wrong with brooms? Is this some strange quirk of character that's only revealing itself to me by degrees? Do you object to all magical modes of transportation on principle, is that it? Or do you have good reason?" he wondered. Not for the first time he smiled inwardly at her discomfort and wondered how on earth she ever managed to get anywhere. She hated Apparation, disliked Floo and now it seemed her idiosyncrasy encompassed the more traditional Wizarding transportation as well.

"I always have good reason!" she objected. "I just...well, the last time I was on a broom it nearly tipped me into a dormant volcano!"

"What?" He stopped in his tracks to stare at her incredulously, his mood changing from somewhat superior humour to jealous insecurity. He was reminded suddenly of the years that had elapsed since her parents' deaths, years when he had been ignorant of her existence and she of his, years she had lived and perhaps even loved in a world far different to his own.

"Oh, long story, never mind. It was an old broom, my charm went wrong, that's all."

Snape shook his head in disbelief. He knew that he would have to accept that there were parts of her past about which he would always be ignorant. Trying to ignore the unpleasant twisting sensation in his gut that always discomfited him when she alluded to a part of her life that would always be curtained from him, he told himself that all that really mattered now was her present, and her future.

"Morning, you two!"

It was Black, bounding up behind them with all the enthusiasm of a slobbering puppy. What wonderful timing the man had. There was one particular aspect of Ella's past that did still matter to him, and he could not deny it.

"Hello, Sirius!" Ella smiled. Snape inclined his head stiffly but decided to make a supreme effort to be polite. As Ella's partner and the father of her child he felt that he ought to show that he could afford a little magnanimity, even if his tone was still unavoidably sarcastic and accusatory.

"We missed you at breakfast, Black, where were you?"

"Oh, I had a heavy night last night. Ended up taking a room at the Three Broomsticks rather than crawl all the way back here," Black replied happily, obviously too thick both of skin and skull to take offence.

"Do we know the lady?" Snape asked archly.

"I don't know what you mean, Snape!"

"Neither do I, Severus!" Ella admonished, but he simply raised his eyebrows and slipped his arm around her shoulders proprietarily. She was his, and Black could search for solace from that fact wherever he would.

Lupin joined them shortly afterwards and together the four of them ascended the narrow wooden stairs up to the teachers' stand. Snape was concerned for Ella's safety as she climbed the narrow wooden treads, climbing close behind her so that her rear brushed against his chest. He would catch her if she stumbled, and he felt a swell of love for her, and pride in his role as her protector. By the time they had reached the seats at the top she was puffing and panting, complaining of a stitch in her side. He pulled her to him and she leaned against him most gratifyingly, groaning as he rubbed the stitch from her side.

"I knew this would happen..." he murmured smugly into her hair.

"And you're always right, I suppose."

"I'm glad we understand each other..."

"Arrogance personified, aren't you?" she grumbled, and then straightened as Sirius bloody Black, showing a level of preparedness as irritating as that of a boy scout, said buoyantly,

"Here, Ella, I brought a drink this time!" handing her a flask of ice-cold pumpkin juice. Snape's smirk died on his face as she accepted it gratefully, taking a deep draught of it, and he glared at the back of Black's head as he took his seat, cursing himself for not having the foresight to bring along a flask of his own and itching to hex Black for having the temerity to remind him of whatever it was that had happened between the two of them in France.

Snape settled Ella into her seat and then, with a last scowl at an unheeding Black, took his own place beside her. He reached for her hand and placed it in his lap, caressing it possessively with both of his. She leaned into him contentedly and his eyes narrowed in concentration as the two teams took to the air. He remembered the last Quidditch match they had watched together and his mood began to lift considerably.

The match was fast, furious and enthralling. The teams were very closely matched, and the score after an hour of play was one hundred and twenty points each. To his concern, however, Ella began to fidget and wriggle uncomfortably in her seat, arching her back.

"Are you alright?" he asked solicitously.

"Backache," she replied, grimacing.

"Here, let me help."

He released her hand and shifted in his seat so that he could slip his arm behind her. Using the flat and the heel of his hand, he rubbed the small of her back firmly, feeling her relax almost instantly. She looked up at him, smiling blissfully,

"That feels wonderful, Severus!"

Of course it did. He had spent hours mapping her body with his hands, learning her every curve and her every sigh, knowing exactly what pleased her and what sent her into ecstasy. It followed, therefore, that anything less than her instant relief should disappoint him greatly. He smiled down at her briefly, then glanced back at the pitch and said,

"Look, there's the Snitch!"

"About time, too!" she said, and then started to moan with pleasure as his fingers continued to ease her backache. "Mmm, Severus...ooh, don't stop! Aah..."

Her very vocal pleasure was gratifying in the extreme, but it was having an altogether inappropriate effect on his bodily responses and judging by the small cough from the seat in front, Remus Lupin's genetically enhanced hearing had picked up on her reaction too.

"Do you have to groan like that?" he murmured into her ear.

"Aah..."

"Only, it's very much like the sound you make when...well, people will wonder what I'm doing to you..."

Ella was unconcerned.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy! People can see your other hand, what's the problem?"

"Ella, I'm shocked!" he replied, hiding his amusement and shifting in his seat to try to relieve a little of the pressure in his trousers. He loved this woman, this carefree, infuriatingly heedless, wonderfully arousing woman.

"Just keep on doing it, it feels so good!"

"Alright, as long as you want."

Forever.

"Well, the next six weeks, for starters!"

"Hmm. How about the next six years?" he teased gently.

Longer than forever, if he could.

"Mmm, aah, whatever...a bit lower - oh, yes, that's it!"

Now was the time. He would do it now. He wanted her to belong to him forever.

"As you wish. How about - er - how about for - for all our lives?"

"Sounds better all the time!" she laughed.

He sighed. She was obviously too intent on what he was doing to fully concentrate on what he was saying and he was not about to raise his voice and risk the werewolf overhearing. He took a deep breath, leaning in to her a little more closely, and decided to spell it out to her.

"All - er - all our married lives?"

His words were lost in a huge roar from the crowd. Ravenclaw had just scored again and the stands were in uproar.

Bloody great.

"What?" she said, her green eyes sparkling gold in the autumn sunshine, cheeks flushed with excitement and happiness. He was gazing down at her intently, but it was obvious that her attention was still elsewhere and he wanted to take her shoulders and turn her to him to impress on her the importance of what he was about to say for the second time.

"I said - all our married lives?"

He stopped rubbing, and waited. Slowly, she turned to face him, and he could almost feel time stop as he waited for her answer. She had heard him this time, that much was evident from the look in her eyes, but she did not answer. Perhaps she would have preferred a more traditional proposal, preceded by a speech in which he declared his undying love. Perhaps he should have remembered to slip the ring into his pocket before they had set off for breakfast that morning, but he had not known that the words would come so easily to him as he sat in the windswept stand watching her wriggle into his touch as if everything he ever did to her was everything she had ever wanted. Perhaps he was wrong and she would refuse him. Perhaps he ought to break the terrifying silence and speak. He hardly knew what he was saying but he had to say something, because if she intended to turn him down he knew his heart would crack.

"I know it's probably not the most articulate or romantic proposal of marriage you've ever heard, but...will you? Perhaps?"

"Yes! Oh! Yes!"

He had been holding his breath and now he exhaled in a shuddering gasp, his eyes locked with hers as they gave one another the answers to all of the questions they no longer needed to ask. He wanted to take her in his arms and crush her to him, but they were both mindful of where they were and resisted the pull, conveying all they felt through eyes overflowing with emotion. The roar of the crowd was reduced to a distant buzzing in Snape's ears and he hardly noticed as everyone around them began to get up and leave the stand.

"Is there something you two want to tell me?" beamed Lupin from the row in front.

"Later, Lupin," Snape answered faintly, never taking his eyes from Ella. "We'll be along in a little while."

Ella pressed her hand to his cheek, sending shivers through him. He covered it with his own and kissed her palm, no longer caring that they were not alone. Lupin clapped him on the shoulder and began to walk along the row, calling back over his shoulder,

"Oh, by the way, in case you're interested - Gryffindor won by one hundred and forty points!"

Alone at last, Ella wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh well," she said dreamily, "at least there's one happy Ravenclaw here today..."

"And are you happy? Do I really make you happy?" he asked, knowing that he did and yet wondering at it still. She climbed on to his lap then, straddling him to be as close to him as she could, and he held her close and kissed her, closing his eyes as heat rushed from her through him and back again. At last, she pulled back from him a little, her lips still brushing his as she spoke.

"Severus, are you sure?"

"You keep asking me that, love! When have you ever known me to prevaricate?"

"Never..."

"Are you sure? Because, you know, once we're married, that's it - I'll never, ever let you go!"

He could have kissed her for the rest of the day and still have hankered after more. Her taste was an addiction, intoxicating and wild but at the same time the safest, most comforting compulsion he had ever experienced. He wanted to taste more of her, all of her, to draw her into himself and make her a part of him just as he was a part of her, in their child who was crushed between them.

He pulled apart from her at last, feeling his legs benumbed by the weight of her. They were sixty feet in the air with what would, for Ella, be a hazardous descent followed by a long trek back up to the school still ahead of them, and it was neither the time nor the place to give in to his overwhelming need to be subsumed by her.

"We'd better get back," he told her reluctantly.

Ella tightened her grip around his neck and complained,

"Oh, not yet. This is nice..."

"Much as I am enjoying this moment, you are getting rather heavy and besides, it'll probably take you half the afternoon to walk back up to the school."

She snorted indignantly but got to her feet, and he breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief, much to her disgust. When they reached the top of the stairs he insisted she let him precede her. Much as he adored her, he was well aware of her shortcomings and she was not one of the most graceful people he had ever met. Besides, she would need to watch her step descending the steep winding stairs and he feared that she would be unable to see her feet because of the size of her stomach.

"Here, let me go first. That way, if you trip, I'll break your fall."

"Oh, Severus, that's so chivalrous!"

"I'm just being practical," he said dismissively. "You aren't the most surefooted person I've ever met!"

"Honestly, I trip just once and I'm never allowed to forget it!" she complained. "And anyway, if I hadn't tripped over that root and been bitten by that snake, we might not be here together now!"

Hiding a smile he turned to her and held out his arms, shrugging,

"Was I complaining? I was just making an observation, that's all. Now, mind your step!"

Snape made most of what little conversation passed between them on their way back to the school. It was apparent that the gentle upward gradient was challenging for her and when he realised that she was answering him only in monosyllables in order to preserve her breath for the trek he slipped his arm around her waist and helped her along as best he could, lapsing into companionable silence.

By the time they had reached her rooms he could see that Ella was exhausted. Her hair clung damply to her forehead and her chest was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. Despite the thick white clouds, which had offered frequent respite from the summer sunshine, the day was hot and sultry and the sun had been at its midday zenith for their return to the school. Ella stretched out on her bed with a sigh of relief, and he sat beside her, taking her hand in his.

"Wait here, and have a rest. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?"

"Just back to the dungeons. I won't be long. And then we'll need to tell the Headmaster our news."

She gave him a contented smile that made him want to stretch out beside her, but there was something he needed to do and he could not let himself be distracted.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew," she said happily. "Or if he's known all along!"

He kissed her forehead tenderly, and left her to rest.

He hastened down to the dungeons, glad that the corridors were empty, and made directly for his bedroom and the enormous oak armoire that stood in one corner. Releasing the wards that concealed a small hidden drawer, which was situated between the two narrow top drawers, he pulled it open to reveal the green velvet drawstring bag in which he still kept the items of jewellery from Folin Gemthewer. He tipped out its contents on to the surface of the armoire and caught his breath. They truly were exquisite, and with trembling fingers he examined each piece in turn before replacing it safely in the bag. All except for the last piece, the engagement ring set with a single emerald encircled with diamonds and held in place by twisting serpents. He returned the bag to the drawer, closing and warding it so that its outline shimmered and bled into the companions above and below it, hiding it from view. Then he took the ring and held it up to the light that streamed in still through the window, murmuring arcane charms wrapped in words of love as he thought of the woman whose finger it would soon grace. He pressed it to his lips and said her name just once, then placed it carefully in his breast pocket. That done, he took winged steps back to Ella's room. She would have a proper proposal of marriage.

He returned to her rooms just in time to see her emerge from her bathroom after taking a shower. He had an immediate physical reaction to the sight of her damp hair tangling down her back, stray tendrils clinging to her cheeks, and the enticing expanse of skin revealed by her loosely tied dressing gown, but once she had greeted him, allowing him to scrape her hair from her shoulder and nuzzle the sweetly fragranced nape of her neck, she disengaged herself with a smile, pushing him towards the chair before turning from him and slipping off her robe. His blood surged joyfully southward as his eyes feasted on her ample curves dipping and swaying before him as she dressed, the sight almost making up for the disappointment of not taking her at once. However, he mused as he watched her shake out a gauzy blue cotton shift, there was nothing done that could not later be undone, in this instance.

"The Headmaster is expecting us later," he announced, watching her intently as she began to brush out her hair. "But first I need to say something - will you put the hairbrush down now, please?"

She did as he asked, turning towards him with a wry expression on her face and settling down at his feet, resting her forearms over his knees to provide a cushion for her chin.

"Ella, I've loved you since - well, not since I first laid eyes on you, but for a very long time."

"Since when, then?" she interrupted.

"What?" he replied, distracted.

"When did you start to love me?"

"It doesn't matter, it was a very - "

"Yes it does, I want to know."

She was putting him off. He had spent hours practising what to say in his head, and with just a few carefully chosen and totally irrelevant questions she had completely put him off his stride. Had she any idea how unused he was to conversations such as these? He sighed, and resigned himself to the diversion from the matter at hand. He was sure he would be able to get the conversation back on track at some point.

"Oh, well, alright, I suppose it was - when you sat at my feet by the fire that night, and rested your head on my knee."

"And here I am again!"

"Er...yes. Indeed." Stating the obvious, he thought dryly.

"And you didn't start to love me until then? Oh..."

"Anyway, the point is..." he continued irritably, "...what do you mean, 'didn't start to love you until then'? When did you start loving me?"

"Oh, after that first evening in your office, working together. That's when the instant lust became love, I think."

"Oh..." he remembered, frowning as he rose to his feet, helping Ella up too so that she could take her place in his stead. "Ella, do stop getting me sidetracked, this is important!"

"Sorry..." she murmured, sitting down. She was silent, looking up at him questioningly, and he took a deep breath.

"Anyway...I've tried living without you and quite evidently it doesn't work, and I never want to be in such an untenable position again. I want you to stay with me for the rest of my life, and I swear I'll spend all that time endeavouring to make you happy. So, that said," he continued, dropping to his knees, "will you marry me?"

There. He had said it, properly, in true Muggle fashion. She had been brought up in the Muggle world when not in school, and had spent most of her life there since. She would understand the importance of such sentiment, and she would surely appreciate the effort he was making for her. And above all that, although he meant every single word of it, he found the words affecting him in a completely unexpected way. Perhaps it was the symbolism of falling to his knees in front of her, but he was, yet again, completely in her thrall and even though she had given him her answer in the Quidditch stands, he still held his breath now just in case she had changed her mind.

She did not speak, so he took her silence for assent and reached into his robes for the green velveteen box he had conjured on his way from the dungeons. He had decided it would be more fitting to present it to her in traditional fashion. He pressed the box into her trembling hands and opened it, taking out the ring and placing it carefully onto the third finger of her left hand. A warm glow suffused the stone, and she gasped as she looked at it, her hand still enfolded in his.

"You've enchanted this!" she said faintly.

"I breathed my love into it," he admitted, dropping her hand then to take her face in his hands and kiss her. The contact made him tingle, and his head swam with feeling. She would, indeed, be his.

"Oh, Severus! Will the ring always make me feel like this?" she asked when they broke apart.

"I hope so," he smiled, "but don't worry, I dare say you'll get used to it! I assume your answer is still yes?" he added as a suddenly uncertain afterthought.

"Of course! And if you made love to me now? Would I be able to bear it?"

He stroked her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs. Those were the other words he had wanted to hear her say.

"Let's find out, shall we? Divestio!"

With a feral smile he made all of their clothing vanish, to reappear in a neatly folded pile on the other side of the room. She sat before him with her arms around his neck, glowing with love that was all for him, and he took her breast in his hand and watched her reaction as he dragged his thumb across the puckered nipple. She drew in a sharp breath and his face split with glee as she pulled him to her and buried her face in his hair. She was his, had always been his, and would be his for ever more. He would adore and protect her and she would bend to his will at the slightest touch of his hand.

He ran his long, sensitive fingers along her spine and felt her shiver, and as he moved closer between her opened legs his hard manhood jutted and bobbed against the juncture of her thighs. He felt more potent than ever before, for now it was not just his lover who sat before him but his mate, his life partner, his all. He lowered his hands to her buttocks and cupped them firmly, pulling her forward a little and savouring every exquisite sensation as he was absorbed by her. Ella threw back her head and groaned, trying to hurry him along by thrusting her hips forward, but he held her steady and made her wait for him, her cries and sobs of need music to his ears.

He gasped as she returned his intimate caress and bit down on her shoulder as he tried to hold himself back. He wrapped his arms around her and began to rock his own hips very gently, pressing his hand into the small of her back to make her loosen her hold around his neck and arch backwards. This enabled him to duck down and capture one of her nipples in his mouth, and he stroked and laved it with his eager tongue, hungry for her. Her moans increased in intensity as he suckled her, and she clutched his head to her chest convulsively, her fingers scrabbling in his hair.

She screamed out his name over and over as she climaxed and he branded her as his.

"I love you, my wife," he murmured into her hair, and she sobbed of her love in return.

At length, he slid from her with a sigh of regret, and got to his feet. Leading Ella over to the bed he climbed in beside her and they lay together in the afterglow of their coupling.

***

Making their way to Albus Dumbledore's office Snape had believed his happiness to be complete. He had even managed a smile when Ella collapsed against him in a fit of giggles as he solemnly intoned the latest ridiculously saccharine password,

"Love Hearts!"

The Headmaster had been delighted, but had had unwelcome news to impart. Rita Skeeter had witnessed his proposal in the Quidditch stands in her animagus form, despite a ten year ban imposed by the Ministry, and would no doubt ensure that it was headline news. Sure enough, two days later the article had appeared and it had linked Ella with Sirius Black. Ella was appalled and all of Snape's jealousy resurfaced as he read the article over breakfast. He snapped at them both and strode to Dumbledore's office in petulant rage, unable to look either in the eye despite his sure knowledge that he alone had a place in Ella's heart. Some old scars simply ran too deep, he thought, casting sidelong scowls at Sirius Black and remembering every single slight he had ever suffered at his hands.

However, Fawkes had been purring when the party had entered the Headmaster's office and although Snape rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to manipulate his guests, Snape could not be angry with Dumbledore for long. He calmed quickly, could almost feel his heart slow and his tension ebb away, and he was able to look on his heavily pregnant fiancée with eyes that were free from all suspicion and held only concern. She was as upset as he, and more resistant to phoenix song, it seemed.

As he reassured her and calmed her down he could not help remembering their idyllic picnic the day before, a day marred only by the untimely arrival of the know-it-all Head Girl and her pet werewolf. He had lain under dappled sunlight and rested against the mystical strength of the school's most ancient tree outside of the Forbidden Forest, and he had sped from one end of the school grounds to the other and back again with his love pressed close against him, making her share his excitement in spite of herself and revelling in his abandonment.

He ought to have known that what the Fates gave with one hand they would endeavour to take away with the other.

When the Headmaster called Miss Granger, Lupin and Mister Potter in to the room and informed them all that Malfoy had absconded from Azkaban, aided and abetted by none other than the Minister of Magic himself, Fudge, Snape's heart, which had been lighter than air, sank like a lead weight into his boots. He grasped the implications immediately, even though Dumbledore implied nothing. He had been a Death Eater and a spy for long enough to know that eventually he would be expected to go after Malfoy and either apprehend him or die trying.

As Draco Malfoy's Head of House it was Snape's duty to escort the boy to the Headmaster's office in order that he could be informed of his father's escape. He was silent and brooding as he descended the slowly spiralling staircase with Ella. He had no intention of sharing his fears about Malfoy senior with her, but he decided that it would be prudent for her to move into his rooms permanently as soon as possible. It was vitally important to him that she should be comfortably established before he had to go away. And if he was completely honest with himself, he needed the security of knowing that she was there, all the time.

"Go to your rooms, and start to pack up all your belongings," he instructed her at the foot of the stairs. "I'll come to you as soon as I can. You're going to move in with me properly. I think it's about time, don't you?"

"I - are you sure? I don't want - "

"Don't argue."

She leaned in to him and they stood holding each other close for a moment, then he lifted her chin and kissed her briefly before striding off in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

As he had suspected, Malfoy junior was holding court in the common room surrounded by his usual coterie. Too pale of complexion to enjoy a surfeit of hot, sunny days, Draco's natural habitat when not searching for the elusive Golden Snitch on his broomstick was the cold green, silver and black elegance of the Slytherin common room. Snape threw open the door with his customary flourish and made his entrance.

The common room had not changed since his own time there. Dark green drapes curtained every window, clear blue-green light illuminated the room darkly, as if it lay a league below the surface of the lake. The fireplaces were black and had been forged of iron in Salazar Slytherin's day, the candelabra and sconces were of silver, the coiled serpents that dominated their design equally ancient.

Chesterfield sofas in racing green were positioned in facing pairs beside fires, windows and tables of ebony, and it was around one of these groupings that the seventh year Slytherins sat now.

They turned and rose as one body at the sight of their House Master, but Snape ignored them. He had no time for them now, mere days away from graduation. None of this year's crop had been salvageable despite his best and most subtle efforts and he could see glimmers of distrust breaking through the veneer of respect they still wore for him. The children of Death Eaters all, he was certain of it, and more than ready to follow in the accursed footsteps of their parents. Only one had been different, to his amazement, and it had been disguised so very well that Snape had not even realised his potential until his father had been dragged off to Azkaban.

"Malfoy, come with me," he said curtly, glancing at the boy briefly before turning on his heel and striding back out into the corridor without any further ado.

The boy caught him up just as he reached the staircase to the East Corridor.

"Professor Snape, sir?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"Where are we going?"

The boy did not sound as cocky as usual, Snape noted. A quick sideways glance showed him a wan, etiolated face with sunken cheeks and dark shadows under the eyes. Eyes which were haunted and scared. Snape sighed. This was not going to be easy news for the boy to hear.

Since his father's discovery of Snape's double life, and the subsequent abduction and rescue of Ella and Hermione which had culminated in his father's imprisonment, Draco Malfoy had found himself in an invidious position. One which involved lying to his fellow Slytherins, accepting their ersatz sympathy with proud sorrow and making snide comments to his Head of House in order that they would continue to support and idolise him. Snape let most of the comments pass, removing points in order to send a message of strength to the Death Eater spawn at large more than to keep Malfoy in his place. Malfoy, he knew, needed all the friends he could get, even if he was coming to realise that they were friends he would rather not have. Keep thy friends close, and thine enemies closer. Snape could relate to that. His voice was measured and without inflection as he answered,

"We're going to see Professor Dumbledore."

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?" the boy asked, dropping his voice as if fearful that the tremor in his voice would be overheard. Snape's mouth tightened into a thin line.

"Not this time, boy," he replied, picking up his pace in order to discourage any more conversation.

They entered Albus Dumbledore's office to find the Headmaster standing beside Fawkes' perch, tickling the phoenix under its chin. Fawkes was purring again, but as Draco Malfoy stepped into the room behind Snape the bird broke off its soothing song and let out a low, keening squawk before shuffling uncertainly on its perch and flapping its wings. Malfoy looked between Snape, Dumbledore and Fawkes nervously before asking, with a bravado Snape knew to be false,

"What's wrong with it?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly and shook his head.

"I believe Fawkes is, ah, unsettled by the resemblance you bear to your father, Draco."

"I'm nothing like my father!" spat the boy vehemently, drawing his arms around himself.

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" enquired Snape smoothly, arching a brow. "Although I believe that your Headmaster was referring to your family likeness, Mister Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," mumbled the chastened boy, shuffling uncomfortably and bearing no resemblance now to the waxy Adonis of the bowels of the castle Snape had seen minutes before.

"No matter, boy, no matter," assured Dumbledore, gesturing for the younger Malfoy to take a seat by the fire. He took his place opposite him and Snape stood at his side, with his hands clasped behind his back. "Draco, Professor Snape and I have some news that we need to impart."

"It's about my father, isn't it? Is he dead?"

The boy's voice was without inflection, and Snape glanced at him sharply to try to ascertain his emotions. He thought he had caught a glimpse of hope in the bleakness.

"No, not dead. Your father has been helped to escape from Azkaban prison."

Malfoy's already pinched white face blanched still further.

"Escaped? But - how could he escape? Where is he?"

Sensing Draco's distress through the bluster in his tone, the Headmaster leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees, tenting his fingers.

"He was helped by Cornelius Fudge, Draco, and I am afraid that we have no idea of their whereabouts."

Draco raised shaking hands to hide his face, taking a few uneven breaths before composing himself.

"And has Mother been informed?" he asked steadily. Snape had to admire the boy's self control. It was raw and untested, granted, but was more than his father had possessed at a similar age.

"Aurors were sent this morning to Malfoy Manor. Two are now stationed there, in case your father tries to contact her," Dumbledore replied.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape began, "Are you in a position speculate on your mother's possible reaction to this news?"

Malfoy shuddered almost imperceptibly and shook his head slowly.

"I don't know, sir. I really don't know."

"Hmm."

"Professor Dumbledore? Professor Snape?" he said uncertainly.

"Yes, Draco?" answered the Headmaster.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What will happen to me?"

"In what respect, Mister Malfoy?" enquired Snape.

"I mean...when my father was in Azkaban it was all pretty clear, wasn't it? I was to graduate and then go home to take care of Mother, then look after Father's - business interests. But what if I - well, what if I go home and he - he comes back?"

"If he is foolish and arrogant enough to do that then he will be caught," Snape said dismissively.

"But what if he isn't caught?" Draco turned pale eyes dark with fear to meet his Head of House's unwavering gaze. "I don't want to take the Dark Mark, sir!"

"I am sure it will not come to that, Draco," said the Headmaster. "We must have faith that our colleagues at the Ministry will prevail."

Snape snorted derisively and shook his head, wondering why Dumbledore felt it necessary to fill the boy's heads with meaningless platitudes. Then he looked at Malfoy's pensive expression and he understood. He had spent seven years concealing an active dislike of a boy who exhibited many of his father's vices and few of the limited virtues of his mother, but now he saw him through new eyes. He needed reassurance and he needed to know that there were some constants upon which he could rely. Snape and Dumbledore were two of those constants, and the boy would need their support. If that meant letting him believe in fairy tales then so be it, but he still could not bring himself to echo the Headmaster's words, and so he said nothing.

"I'll take you back to the common room, Mister Malfoy," he said stiffly.

"Thanks, sir, but I think I'll go down to the Quidditch pitch for a while. Local team trials are in a few weeks, I could do with some practice."

Snape had returned to Ella's rooms to find her packed, and he tried unsuccessfully to put the Malfoy family's problems out of his mind while he held her and buried his face in her hair. She was always so warm and so welcoming, a balm to his troubled soul. He sighed heavily.

"What is it?" she asked gently, holding him close around his waist.

"He didn't take the news very well. He's scared." That was an understatement, he thought, wondering exactly at what point during his seven year tutelage of the boy the transformation had occurred, and what had caused it. Had it been a gradual awakening, or had the boy simply snapped one day having been subject to one abuse too many? "Apparently he's always known he'd be expected to take the Dark Mark after his eighteenth birthday. He's not that bad underneath - and he's terrified of his father."

"I'm not surprised!" Ella muttered feelingly.

"Like I told Potter, Draco was actually quite relieved about what happened before Christmas, thought it would let him off the hook. Now, he's not so sure."

He sat down heavily in the armchair and pulled Ella on to his knee.

"Off the hook? As in, receiving the Dark Mark?" she said perceptively, winding his hair round her fingers.

"Yes. You do understand that Voldemort wasn't defeated, don't you? I mean, not completely?"

"Of course I do! But surely he was weakened enough not to pose any threat? Not for a long time, anyway?"

Snape did not know what to say to her. She had undergone so much at Voldemort's hands through him, and he rather suspected that she held a far rosier outlook on the world than he, despite the many traumas in her life. He wanted to tell her not to be so stupidly naïve, to look outside the two of them and their love and accept that their idyll, while genuine enough, was akin to a tiny ripe segment of an otherwise wholly rotten fruit.

But no, perhaps he should lie to her, cover her in a comforting blanket of reassurances and let her believe that the monster was vanquished and the forces of good had prevailed. Maybe he could even cocoon himself with her therein and begin to believe it himself. His brow knitted as he dismissed the ridiculous notion. It was highly unlikely that he would be permitted to bury his head in the sand. He had never allowed it before, and he could not let himself now. He could not frighten her with the bald truth of it, but at the same time he had to try to prepare her for the eventuality. His fingertips traced her cheek and he simply said,

"We don't know."

"Have they sent aurors?"

"Yes. The Ministry's in turmoil, they're running around like headless chickens, apparently. Nobody knew about Fudge, so nobody knows who to trust any more." He gave a hollow laugh and sighed, pulling her closer and burying his face in her chest so that his next words were muffled. "They don't know what to do first, go on a manhunt or conduct an internal investigation! Then, of course, there's the small matter of electing a new Minister for Magic!"

"About Malfoy..." she mused, "You wouldn't have to go and join the search, would you? I need you here..."

Ah, he ought to have known that she would not shy from the crux of the matter. He shook his head and said evasively,

"Shouldn't think so. Don't worry."

She pulled back, determined to seek the truth from his eyes.

"You will have to, won't you?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Maybe."

He felt her shiver in his arms as he drew her closer again. Finally he decided to change the subject and let her distract herself with hopes for happier times, saying,

"You all ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"What?"

"Sure you want to give up your bolt-hole?"

"I don't need a bolt-hole from you, love."

"You did," he answered as he looked at her solemnly, raising an eyebrow. It would not hurt to remind her of his insecurities. The Fates knew, they were genuine enough, but if he acknowledged them to her she would be able to lose her own fears while allaying his.

"I know better now," she replied, silencing him with a finger on his lips. He closed his eyes and sighed. He had seen the range of emotions flash across her face as she spoke; fear and confusion had been chased away by concern and determination. His tactic appeared to be working and he was thankful for it.

"And how about you?" she asked. He opened his eyes enquiringly. "You might get sick of my...incessant prattle!"

"I'm getting used to it," he shrugged. "Anyway, it was too quiet without you. I was lonely."

"And now you'll never be lonely again," she said as she kissed him.

He hoped she was right, and her kiss went a very long way towards convincing him. He adored her and there was nothing he wanted more than to keep her in his life for ever more. If he could protect her and their child from the evil that was still at large in the world outside then he would die a happy man in the trying.

At length his mood lightened considerably and he allowed himself a wry smile as he wondered whether she painted her lips with Euphoria potion, for the merest brush of her mouth on his made his heart swell. He broke their kiss reluctantly, wanting to share some happy news with her now.

"Let's go. I have something to show you."

"What is it?"

"Our new home!" he said importantly.

"The Headmaster agreed?"

"The suite's ours as soon as we want it!"

"Oh, now!"

He pushed her off his lap, delighted at the excitement that bubbled from her, and stood up.

"The rooms are a bit - neglected, you know," he warned.

"So? That all adds to the fun!"

"Does it? Hmm. If you say so..."

Ella's enthusiasm had been quite infectious and by the time she had taken his hand and led him across the dim and dusty room that was to be their main living area into the small turreted room beyond that she intended for a nursery, he was as enamoured of the project as she. Her eyes sparkled and danced as she made him explore each and every corner with her, and he listened and watched as she talked nineteen to the dozen about her plans, and he found himself falling in love with her even more. She wanted this as much as he. She was giving him everything he had not even known he had wanted until he met her, and it was something he had never expected and the shock of it all still took his breath away. He held her close in the small whitewashed room with its turret overlooking the lake, and he imagined her sitting there with his baby in her arms while he watched them both.

She ran her hands along his spine and the small of his back twitched in pleasure. He knew from her caresses that she wanted him, and his body reacted with its usual alacrity. Always aware of everything about her, his arousal heightened his senses until the scent of her flared his nostrils and the brush of her hair under his chin sent delicious signals to the pit of his stomach and beyond.

"Severus..." she murmured, rubbing her cheek against the buttons that lined the front of his frock coat.

"I know, me too. Come on."

Unfortunately an afternoon begun with an hour of passion was to be denied them. Stealing kiss after kiss on their slow walk to the door, Snape had failed to take note of the passage of time and before he knew it Ella had pushed him, laughing, into the corridor where he stumbled and was faced with a most untimely surprise. He froze, glaring down the corridor at his third year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class, agog with his every move. Damn it. He straightened up to his full height and said icily,

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get inside!"

Ella chose that moment to peer around the door jamb, sniggering, and he pushed her hurriedly back inside the room, closing the door behind them.

"It's my third year class!" he hissed. "What time is it?"

"It must be after lunch already!"

"Damn it! I have to go. That's another afternoon spent wanting you!!" he said, highly annoyed. Ella pouted in disappointment and stroked his rapidly diminishing length with sure, knowing fingers. Just once was sufficient to bring it back in full force and he groaned as he grasped her wrist and kissed her longingly.

"Oh dear..." she mocked, obviously enjoying his discomfiture.

"I'll see you later!" he warned as he swept out, intending to punish her most severely for her behaviour and trying to hide his smirk as he flung open the door to his classroom.