Snape In Love: Chasing Darkness Away

Chapter 23

Investigation

"It's very decadent, you know," Ella sighed happily, peering down at her chest where a small droplet of chocolate remained. She scraped it up and licked it from her finger as Severus stretched beside her and murmured sleepily,

"What?"

"This. Taking to our bed in the middle of the afternoon..."

"...And eating both from and of one another?" he queried, shifting on to his side and capturing one of her nipples in his mouth.

"Exactly..." she whispered, closing her eyes and stroking his hair languidly. He stopped and turned over to rest his weight on his folded elbows, looking down at her.

"Remember when I had to go away?"

"Only too well," she frowned.

"This is the sort of memory that kept me going," he said abruptly. "All those hours spent searching, all the nights lying awake and thinking of you, and with only Lupin and Black for company. Gods, it was desperate!"

His eyes flashed sardonically and she smiled pensively.

"I missed you so much," she said.

He did not answer. His eyes travelled over her face, as if he was mapping every inch, and he leaned over her and brushed his lips over hers, nuzzling her nose with his before resting his head on her shoulder and draping his arm across her body.

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

Ella had not taken the news well. She had wept and railed against him and Dumbledore, and he had taken her back to their rooms with a heavy heart, aching to console her and take her pain away but filled with the bitter knowledge that there were no words of comfort for him to offer her. He knew she needed him, knew she had grown to rely on him completely, and he had relished her dependence and her devotion to him, had fostered it, nurtured it, and exulted in it. He had wanted to be her whole world, even though the Dark Mark meant that his life would always be in danger. He had been selfish, encouraging her to limit her world to his, and now he had to abandon her to it having stripped her of her independence.

She needed him, desperately, and his heart ached to see it for surely his need for her was as great, and he would suffer equally at their parting. This was love, this wrenching, gnawing pain in his gut that no surfeit of tender caresses and litany of loving words could assuage, because she needed him by her side, never more so than now when she was big with his child, and he could not wave his wand and make her world the perfect place he wanted it to be.

He loved her, that night, over and over until every crest they rode together flowed into the next and they each absorbed the other's essence into themselves so that when he looked back on it, from days and miles distant, he remembered only the wholeness of it and the beauty of it made him want to weep. He wondered whether he would ever know the bliss of loving her again, and he had seen in her eyes, in turn, the simple truth that if he should not return to her, no man would ever know her so thoroughly and so intimately. He had imprinted himself on to her incontrovertibly and he knew that no matter what the future held for her, there would be no-one for her but him.

It had been their goodbye, and the agony of his leave-taking the following morning had been merely a formality to be endured with as much dignity as possible. Tears had coursed silently down her cheeks and she had whispered of her fears for him; and while he had reassured her to the best of his ability he knew in his heart that it had not been enough and that neither of them had been convinced.

He strode from her unseeing to the middle of the front lawn, flanked by Lupin and Black, and he had turned to take her in one last time as the Portkey activated and took him from her. Her stricken face stayed with him, as if burned on to his retinas, so that when the trio winked into existence in a cold frost-covered field the disorientation he usually overcame so easily made him stumble and hide his face in his hands. He could not allow himself to release the cry of anguish he felt at his desertion of his love; a cry whose twin he felt sure had burst from Ella as he had disappeared.

"You okay, Snape?" Black asked gruffly, ignoring his friend Lupin who had hunkered down on the grass and was rubbing the back of his head with his hand, grieving in his own way for Hermione Granger.

Snape straightened his shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides, trying not to flex his fingers as the familiar cold wave of dislike washed over him. Schooling his features into the scowl that came so easily whenever he found himself in Black's presence was a little more difficult than usual, but he managed it.

"I am fine. I am used to this, after all," he replied snidely. Black frowned and turned away and Snape felt a small thrill of triumph. He knew only too well that Black's incarceration in Grimmauld Place had simply replaced one prison with another, and it had rankled with Black to see Snape perceived as a heroic risk taker while he, still a fugitive at the time, had been a liability for the Order. Even though events at the Ministry two years before had led eventually to Black's rehabilitation, Snape still made sure Black remembered it.

Lupin sighed and got to his feet, looking between the two of them anxiously before shaking his head and saying,

"Right then, let's get on with it shall we?" and striding determinedly in the direction of a rickety five bar gate at the corner of the field. With a resentful sneer, Black followed his friend and, looking around himself suspiciously, Snape brought up the rear.

They walked until nightfall, stopping at smallholdings along the way and asking the farmers as obliquely as they could whether they had seen anything unusual in their vicinity of late. The people they encountered were wary of them, not surprisingly, as strangers were rarely seen in such remote areas, but they were also quite suggestible and it was the work of a moment to mutter a Compello Veritas, a mild charm from the same group of charms as Imperius. That day's search proved fruitless, however, and nightfall was upon them long before they had reached the first town on their itinerary.

There was a copse a short way from the roadside and Snape sat with his back against one of the tall tree trunks while the others hunched over a small camp fire.

"I still don't see why we can't just fly to the next town. It's dusk now, we won't be seen."

"Don't be stupid, Black!" Snape muttered. "Don't you think people would question how we managed to travel fifteen miles on foot in less than an hour, when it takes them at least two to travel by horse and cart?"

"So what did we bother bringing the broomsticks for, then?" Black asked defensively.

Snape pursed his lips irritably and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree and refusing to answer such an inane question. Lupin could explain the concept of contingency plans and travel by night and emergencies in language that the dullard could understand. He, Snape, had far more important things to attend to, namely remembering Ella's lips on his that morning and the sound of her voice as she bade him farewell.

"We'll sleep here tonight," Lupin said, taking a long stick and poking the fire desultorily. It was failing, but a simple charm would have it blazing until the morning, if they so chose. "In the morning we'll head for the town, ask in all the likely places. Spend the rest of the day there, if it looks like it'll be worth it. Go to the local inn in the evening."

"We could go there now," Black complained sulkily. "I don't see why we need to wait twenty four hours for convivial company and a nice warm bed, let alone potentially useful information."

"Caution catches the Hippogriff, Sirius, you know that," replied Lupin tiredly. Snape lifted his head and looked at Lupin, his eyes narrowed, but Lupin was rummaging in his rucksack for supplies, so Snape folded his arms and let his thoughts drift.

"Watch over me," he had said to Ella as they parted. "You wear both emeralds now, and I'll know you're there."

Those had been his last words to her. He wondered what she was doing at that moment, and whether she was thinking of him. He felt a tightness in his chest, a dull ache that he feared would not go away until he saw her again, and he sighed and pinched the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing his eyes wearily. Their mission was still in its first day and already he wanted no more of it.

The following evening had been spent in the town's only inn. After a fruitless day's work the party had been tired and irritable and had wanted nothing more than three hearty plates of goulash and hunks of freshly baked bread, washed down with flagons of locally produced ale. Their collective mood was a little improved after their meal and while his travelling companions engaged the locals in friendly, affable conversation, Snape sat back in a darkened corner and observed. Surely someone in this backwater knew something, or was the Ministry's so-called intelligence completely wrong? The itching on Snape's forearm certainly suggested that their trail was at the very least lukewarm. All they needed was one witness, one clue, to heat it back up and give them a sense of purpose.

Snape frowned sourly as he watched Sirius Black propping up the bar and engaging a rather tired looking barmaid in conversation. Her skirt was too tight and her lips too thin, and the red lipstick she wore bled into the wrinkles around her mouth. She laughed loudly and often and Snape winced as she favoured the lank haired Lothario with a coquettish cackle and a girlish tilt of her head. Give Black his due, he didn't let an insignificant little matter like a language barrier stand in his way. Snape wondered how far he would take the flirtation and shuddered at the thought of bedding such a strumpet. Huffing to himself, he realised that there had been a time, shrouded now in the grey mists of his distant past, when he had lain with such women; women who would keep a small copper bowl on the mantel. He still remembered the tinny clatter of the sickles and knuts as they were dropped into it on his hurried way out.

Unerringly his train of thought led him back to Ella, and he felt himself sink further into his seat as his mind's eye followed the contours of her body, tracing each curve and each plane, comparing the dreary, downtrodden women in the bar with the vibrant warmth and vivacity of his lover. How he missed her, he thought as he drifted deeper into his reverie, almost missing the moment where Lupin, who had been conversing earnestly with a craggily built man in a tweed three piece suit at the next table, started with excitement and turned to Snape, saying in an urgent whisper,

"They were here, Severus! Not two days ago!"

"What? What did he say? Tell me exactly!"

"He's the local doctor, can't speak any English, unfortunately, but I have a smattering of Russian, thanks to Charlie Weasley, not a million miles away from Romanian, I don't think - "

" - Yes, yes, alright, Lupin, get on with it!" Snape snapped impatiently.

"There were two men, one blond and obviously of noble birth who had his son with him, and his manservant, who was short and portly and quite officious."

"Fudge, Malfoy's manservant? Good gods, the Minister of Magic reduced to being perceived as a common lackey!" Snape said with grim mirth.

"There's more," Lupin continued excitedly. "They had no luggage, even though they admitted to being 'tourists', except for a large carpet bag that they kept with them at all times. Apparently the manservant was always sweating, and very pasty. Our man here says he appeared to be very nervous."

Snape studied the man closely, staring deep into his eyes and holding his gaze for long moments while he penetrated his thoughts. He had given Lupin a thorough and accurate account of things, and Snape did not believe that there was any more to tell.

"Hmm. I'm not surprised," he said thoughtfully. "I think there was a fourth member of their party, and Fudge would be exceedingly nervous in his presence. What were their plans?"

Lupin and the doctor had a further exchange, and then the other man rose to his feet, nodded his goodbyes and left the inn.

"Well?"

Lupin scratched his head, disappointed.

"He says he doesn't know, he never spoke to them. They stayed here, though, so Sirius might find something out."

"Only if he can speak the language. Body language won't help this time." Snape narrowed his eyes and allowed himself a sidelong look at Lupin as he smirked, "Don't you think you ought to go and offer your services as interpreter?"

Looking aghast, Lupin spluttered into his tankard of ale,

"No, no, I'm sure he'll manage!"

"Oh, come, come, Lupin! Where is your sense of duty? Where is your commitment to the cause?"

"My commitment has never been in question!" Lupin fired back angrily, wiping a moustache of ale from his top lip with the back of his hand. Snape sniggered and Lupin glared at him. "You know all the right buttons to press, don't you, Snape? You always did."

"And you are such an easy target."

"Well, remember this. We're all supposed to be on the same side here. We have a common enemy, and it isn't one another! And what's stopping you using your particular skills here, anyway?"

Snape chose to ignore that last complaint and quirked an eyebrow in faux disappointment.

"And here I was trying to demonstrate my solidarity with a little light humour," he tutted, shaking his head and staring up at the roughly plastered ceiling.

"You're bloody unbelievable, do you know that?" Lupin muttered.

"Oh, I try, Lupin, I try...now, tell me again about the carpet bag."

Fifteen minutes later and Black was leaning over the bar ogling the barmaid as she bent over to mop up a spillage from the floor behind the counter. She was laughing more throatily now and fluttering her eyelashes in a way that made Snape's stomach heave. He almost felt sorry for the idiot Black, and wondered how adept he really was at what Snape could only refer to as 'flirtatious interrogation'. The bar began to empty and soon Snape, Lupin and Black, as residents that night, were the only paying customers left in the bar.

Eventually Black slipped off the barstool and sauntered over to rejoin Lupin and Snape at their table. "Well?" Snape enquired, arching a brow.

"Can't understand a bloody word," Black grinned inanely, slapping his hands against his knees. "But she's going to join us for a nightcap once she's finished cleaning up."

"Cleaning up? Is that what she's doing?" asked Snape curiously as he watched the barmaid wink at them and leer at Black as she wiped down the length of the counter with a rather grubby tea-towel. "So, what you are saying, in fact, is that you failed miserably and require my particular talent to glean from her the information we need?"

Sirius Black started to rise from his seat as if to lunge for Snape across the table, but Lupin grabbed his arm and forced him to sit down.

"Not here, Sirius! Remember why we're here!"

"Bloody well tell him that, Remus!" Black muttered, glaring at a supercilious Snape and continuing, "As it happens, Snape, I have managed to find out quite a lot!"

"Then perhaps you'd like to share it with us before she comes over?" Snape asked coldly, folding his arms.

"Oh, just give it a bloody rest, okay? I'm sick to death of your snide comments and your superior attitude!"

"Come on, Sirius, the sooner we find out the sooner we can all go to bed," snapped Lupin distractedly. His friend glared at him but then began,

"As far as I can tell, Malfoy and Fudge were here the day before yesterday. Had a boy with them who looked ill."

Snape yawned pointedly, rolling his eyes as Lupin shot him a warning look.

"They were very nervous, and in a hurry."

"Really?" Lupin asked with interest. "I wonder why..."

"Maybe they knew that we were about to be set on their trail," said Snape thoughtfully, frowning into the middle distance.

"But who would have tipped them off?" wondered Lupin.

"The Ministry?" said Black. "It would have to be someone from the Ministry...or someone who had connections with someone who works there."

"Very good, Black!" drawled Snape, but he was denied the opportunity to give free reign to the insults rapidly formulating in his head by the hips-swinging approach of the formidable barmaid.

Black stood, offering her his seat with an expansive wave of his arm and a winning smile. She simpered, and sat down opposite Snape, favouring him with what she evidently believed was a seductive smile, showing nicotine-yellowed teeth that were all present and correct save for a couple of noticeable exceptions. Snape inclined his head briefly by way of an acknowledgement, and held her gaze for a moment until eye contact was broken as she leered at Black's long legs straddling the chair next to hers.

Snape's nose wrinkled in distaste, her expression and the seediness of the lust he had seen as he read her an unwelcome reminder of passionless encounters in sordid darkened rooms. He stared at her, ignoring the distraction of the clumps of mascara that covered sparse lashes to focus on the pale blue eyes that finally met his once more. He probed her gently, searching for any memory of Malfoy and Fudge. It was an easy task; Malfoy had made an impression on her, he could tell. She had been in awe of him when first he entered the bar, recognising him as a gentleman and richer no doubt than anyone else who had ever passed through those parts. She had found him very attractive too, at first, so much so that she had barely noticed the nondescript little man following in his considerable wake, carrying a large bag of some sort. However, when the rich blond man had placed both hands on the bar and made enquiries as to the lie of the land in the area she had found herself shrinking from the coldness in his gaze, and stammering something about the way being easier to the east, the terrain more gentle and the hamlets more plentiful.

This time, Snape was the one who broke their eye contact. He glanced at Remus and nodded once, and the werewolf asked,

"Which way did they go, Sirius? Did she tell you? Did she see them leave?"

"She pointed up the road," Black replied.

"Up?" asked Snape sharply. "That would be...towards the east?"

Black shrugged noncommittally.

"Severus? What did you see?" Lupin asked.

"Not now, Lupin!" Snape muttered, scraping back his chair. "I'm going to our room. We'll talk there. Are you going to pay the lady off, Black? I fear she'll be terribly disappointed," he said dismissively as he strode towards the stairs.

By the time Lupin had reached the entrance to their shared room Snape was sitting in the only chair, deep in thought. His head had snapped up as the door clicked open.

"Well, where is he? What are his sleeping arrangements for tonight?" he asked derisively.

"He's coming," Lupin replied, flopping on to one of the narrow cots. "Making his excuses."

"Hmph."

A few moments later Black strode into the room and closed the door, leaning against it and exhaling loudly.

"Phew! That was close!" he said. "I thought I was going to have to lie back and think of England tonight!"

"Not like you to turn down a quick rutting, Black," Snape said smoothly. "What's the matter, was she little too dog rough even for a mangy cur such as yourself?"

Black was across the room and holding Snape by the lapels before Lupin could even react. His face was inches away from Snape's as he shouted,

"I seem to remember a time when you weren't quite so fussy, Snape!"

"And would that be before or after you had a holiday in Azkaban?" Snape countered coldly. "However did you manage, all those years? Are you sick of getting yourself off, is that why you try to shag everything that moves nowadays?"

"I'm warning you, Snape! - "

"Including Ella?" Snape shouted, shoving Black backwards and getting to his feet so that they were nose to nose, wand arms twitching at their sides.

"Enough!" shouted Lupin. "For goodness' sake, grow up! Both of you! In case you hadn't noticed, you're on the same side now, have been for years! Just - just bloody well get over it!"

"He started it!"

"And I'm stopping it, Sirius! I've had enough of this. We're not kids any more! People are depending on us! People we love." He looked between the two dark men, his eyes blazing with anger that faded gradually as he saw the two men's shoulders slump a little. "Now, Severus, something's on your mind. Tell us."

Reluctantly Snape tore his threatening gaze from his rival and crossed over to the window under the pretext of peering out into the night. He needed no witness to the pain that taunted his every waking thought these last days. It was bad enough that he missed Ella and worried for her so much that it was a physical ache without allowing Black to see it written all over his face. After he had collected himself he turned back to face the room, clasping his hands behind his back.

"They've gone west," he said finally. "Malfoy questioned the barmaid about the area, she told him the going was easier to the east, and more populated, so I'm convinced they've gone west. Whatever they're planning, they don't want to be disturbed."

"So, we follow."

"Yes, Lupin, at first light. We travel on foot, until we can be sure we won't be seen. And then, Black, we might be able to use the broomsticks! Won't that be nice?"

Black scowled and began to undress, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal a long, lean torso. Snape looked away, jealously wondering whether Ella's fingers had ever run across that smooth, toned chest.

Ella.

He missed her. He could not stand it, and he could not speak, so he stripped off his Muggle garb and slipped in to his bed, turning to face the wall and losing himself in thoughts of her.

***

They saw no sign of their quarry the next day, or the next, or the next. On the fourth day, one hundred miles deeper into barren country than their last known sighting, the trio came across a hamlet comprising no more than a shabby hostel, a general store and a handful of cottages. Having slept rough the previous three nights, they were tired and dishevelled and glad of the opportunity to sleep in a bed for the night, however insalubrious the surroundings. The owner of the general store was also the proprietor of the hostel and after they had agreed on a price for a room Lupin asked casually whether trade had been good in recent weeks. The man had smiled and said that business had been so poor that his wife had grown tired of maintaining the place when there were no paying customers to appreciate her efforts, or make them worth her while, and so she had gone to the next village thirty miles away to visit her mother. That had been three weeks ago, and the man grinned lasciviously at the timid, and very young, shop assistant at his side.

Snape had stared at the girl, and she had met his gaze fearfully at first. Reading her, though, he could sense that her fear was of the strangers and not of the oafish peasant at her side. Snape read her defiance, and her determination to do as she would, and he broke her gaze, unwilling to learn any more.

Meanwhile Lupin had thanked the man for his time, and turned to leave. It did not look as if they would learn anything here, and the trail appeared to have grown cold.

However, just as Snape had turned to follow Lupin, the man made a throwaway comment which neither Snape nor Black could understand, but which stopped Lupin in his tracks. Turning back, they had conversed for a few moments, Lupin's questioning becoming more insistent and the man's answers emphatic, until Lupin had turned to grin at his friends and said,

"Let's take this food back to our room, and eat. We have a lot to discuss!"

Their room in the hostel was basic, and would have been fairly clean were it not for the thin layer of dust that coated every surface in dullness. There was a single bed and a set of bunks, with a table in the centre of the room at which stood three rickety wooden chairs. In the corner was a small fireplace with a grey stone mantel, and in a curtained alcove was a cracked porcelain lavatory and sink.

"Barely better than Azkaban," Black muttered pensively. Snape shot him a curious glance, but did not reply. He was weary of living rough, and as far as he was concerned, the room was adequate for their needs. He tried to push from his mind thoughts of his own comfortably appointed rooms, and those new rooms he hoped Ella was in the process of furnishing for them both to enjoy on his return. If he returned, he reminded himself. The battle had not yet begun, and when it did he knew that there was no guarantee that he and his companions would prevail.

"So, Lupin, what did he say? Has he seen Malfoy and Fudge?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes," Lupin replied. "As we were leaving just now he laughed and said he wished he had paid attention when he was at school, during the war."

"Which war, Grindelwald?" asked Black, confused.

"No, the last Muggle war!" Lupin said. "He wished he'd paid attention in his English lessons because we were the second group of English people he'd had in his shop this week!"

"The first being a blond nobleman and his manservant?" enquired Snape, raising an eyebrow.

"In a nutshell, yes," said Lupin. "They asked about the town that's ten or so miles from here, but they also bought camping and climbing equipment."

"Damn it. When did they leave?"

"Yesterday, at first light."

"We've got to go after them!" said Black, leaping to his feet.

"No, Sirius, we need to rest. They can't be too far ahead of us now. And - and, well, we need to have our wits about us, don't we?"

"Easier said than done, in some cases," Snape muttered, waving his hand dismissively as Black opened his mouth to reply. He had only commented out of habit, and was too weary to pick a fight with any real enthusiasm. Black obviously felt the same way, as he simply swore under his breath and headed to the corner alcove to relieve himself.

After a frugal meal of cold cuts and black bread, washed down with ale, the three companions discussed a plan of action for the next day, and tactics for when they finally caught up with the absconders. They decided to go to the town the following day, to see if the trail was still fresh. When night fell they retired to bed, hoping to appease their bone-weary fatigue in the hard narrow bunks and thin blankets.

Snape pulled off his black shirt, folding it over the back of his chair. He climbed into the top bunk and lay flat on his back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling whose plaster was flaking at the corners. He cast Silencing and Privacy charms and let his mind wander where it would. Looking at the cracks in the ceilings he imagined that one or two of them resembled the contours of Ella's face, even more so once Black had extinguished the flickering candle, and he sighed as he wondered what she was doing. The hour was not particularly late, so she may well be up, in the staff room with Hermione and Dumbledore, perhaps, or down in the kitchens drinking hot chocolate before bed. Perhaps she was even in the Infirmary for some reason - but no, he would not let himself worry like that. Whatever she was doing, she was well, and healthy. Dumbledore had promised to inform him the minute she went into labour.

He preferred to think of her in bed, in their bed, thinking of him. He could almost see her lying there, her hair spread out across the pillows, her arms outstretched, her lips parting as she breathed his name.

"Severus..."

Her voice echoed in his head and he felt a thrill shiver through him. He imagined her slowly pulling down the linen sheet, revealing her full breasts to his mind's eye, the large pink nipples hardening as they were exposed to the coolness of the night. He imagined himself swooping down over her, hovering above her, dipping his head to take one of those peaks in his mouth, flicking his tongue across it and feeling her arch up into his embrace.

His breathing quickened, and he shifted slightly on the bunk, feeling a warm heat spread across his abdomen as his erection grew. He reached down to unfasten his trousers and slid his hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, closing his eyes as he began to stroke himself.

He could almost smell her scent, his memory of her was so powerful. He could almost taste her, and he imagined dragging his mouth down from her luscious breasts, down over her stomach, lower and lower until he could smell the musk of her arousal, until his nose was buried in her damp curls. He grasped himself more firmly, moving slowly at first, while his other fist clenched at his pillow. Now, in his mind, he was kissing his way back up her body, making her taste herself on his lips as he slanted his mouth over hers and plunged his tongue into her wet warmth even as his manhood echoed the action. He heard her call out his name,

"Severus, oh love, oh Severus, I love you!"

It was so clear, so loud in his head, that his eyes snapped open and he stared straight up at the ceiling.

"Watch over me," he had told her. "I'll know you're there." He was sure she was watching him now, and the conviction spurred him on and his movement quickened as he approached his climax, teeth bared in a silent cry of passion.

It was not the same, for how could it be? He was alone, hundreds of miles from her, and he missed her so much that her absence from his side was a tangible, physical stringing out of his nerves that nothing could assuage. He pulled the thin blanket over himself as he curled on his side, hugging the pillow to him with both arms rather than using it to cushion his head. He stared at the wall, unwilling to close his eyes and succumb to sleep because that would allow her to slip from his mind and he wanted to hold on to whatever he could of her, for as long as he was able.

Sleep claimed him, in the end, and he dreamed of open roads with Ella always on the horizon, arms outstretched to him but beyond his reach.