A Merciless Affection

Chapter 9: When You Find That Once Again You Long to Take Your Heart Back and Be Free

November sped past, counted more in heartbeats than in days. And in moments of panic. More than once, Sarah found herself returning up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower on the basis of a last minute message warning her not to come. The most distressing incident, however, occurred on a Sunday afternoon. She had checked her bookmark at the bottom of the steps, as always. But when she opened the Potions classroom door, someone else was already there. A pale-haired boy, probably in his fourth or fifth year, leaned against the frame of Snape's open office door, chuckling darkly. His mirth faded, though, when his head whipped around to see who had come in.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, his expression ridiculously haughty, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied her Gryffindor colors.

Sarah, to her shock, found herself utterly without an answer.

"Who are you?" the blond boy demanded. Malfoy, she realized, the Slytherin Seeker. Not many students had hair that white.

Professor Snape appeared in the doorway. Thank goodness. "I don't recall that you had an appointment, Miss Darkglass," he remarked with his typical coldness. "Why are you here?"

An idea finally crystallized. "I...I realized that I had forgotten to borrow that book you recommended for my project." It was weak, maybe, but....

"And this could not have waited until class time tomorrow?" Snape asked. Nastier, she thought. You have to sound nastier.

"I just...I had some extra time to read today, and I thought...." It wasn't very difficult to play the role of a flustered student.

"You thought you could bother me on a weekend just as well as on a weekday?" Snape finished derisively.

Malfoy smirked, obviously pleased to watch his head of House dole out verbal abuse. There was something about the boy that made Sarah want badly to smack the look off his face. She could easily believe that this was the same little Malfoy who had spent an afternoon egging on other children to torment any living thing they could find in their host's garden, although he was considerably more good-looking now than he had been as a pale and spindly child. Good-looking enough to make some girl of his own year forget what a little beast he was. And suddenly, although her father had been dark rather than fair, Sarah saw such a resemblance between them that her hand twitched reflexively toward her wand.

The motion had not been lost on the boy, and he had his own wand out in an instant.

"Draco," Snape said, warningly. "Miss Darkglass, you will have the book in class tomorrow. Provided that I decide to take the trouble of finding it for you. The likelihood of which decreases every moment you remain standing here."

Stifling the urge to say, "Sorry, Professor," she turned and fled, as anyone would have done. Her heart felt as if it were going to burst as she headed up the main dungeon stairs, too afraid of being seen where she really shouldn't be to risk ducking down the side passageway. Even an hour later, when she sat curled up against her pillows, pretending to read but waiting desperately for some explanation, each of her heartbeats still shook her.

They had been incredibly lucky all this time, she realized. Yes, they had been careful, but...was their luck running out? Surely--it seemed to her as she sat shivering-- it was only a matter of time until something else happened, until she or he or they were caught in some situation that could not be explained away. When her bookmark changed, she gasped so loudly that Patricia heard her through the bed curtains, clear across the room.

"Are you all right, Sarah?" asked the seventh year prefect.

"Yes, fine," Sarah called out. "Just...a good part in my book."

"Oh," Patricia dismissed the matter.

I had no time to warn you.

Sarah's hands trembled as she uncorked her ink. How can we prevent it from happening again?

I do have responsibilities, was the reply. What compelled you draw on Draco Malfoy?

Sarah sighed. Nothing, she wrote.

It was stupid. Don't do it again.

I'll try my best not to have an occasion to.

That would seem to be the best possible idea.

Sarah chewed on her quill for a moment. Late nights only? she suggested, resignedly.

His answer seemed to take a long time. Fine.

December began, with its relentless march toward the Christmas holidays, and their meetings grew even less frequent as papers and tests piled up. Finally it was Thursday of the last week of term. It was also the last time it would be possible to sneak out of Gryffindor Tower before she went home. People would be staying up late on Friday, packing and celebrating.

Although he had agreed to her coming, Snape didn't stand up, didn't kiss her when she came into the office, as he always had. He went on grading term-end papers, without a hint or gesture that she should go back to his room.

She sank down on the chair in front of the desk, her heart sinking as well. It was not the first time she had wondered how much longer this relationship was going to last. It would have been nice if they had managed to go on until the end of the school year. That would have been a natural termination point: Well, it was fun, you know, and have a nice life. But she had never been confident that something wouldn't happen before then. That he might not suddenly decide it was too risky or that he was tired of her. The taut look on his face when he finally laid his quill aside suggested that perhaps that point had been reached.

"It has occurred to me," he said, "that you may find this necessary." He reached across the desk and handed her a small vial of inky-colored potion.

Sarah removed the stopper. If she didn't first try to determine what it was by the scent, he would accuse her of laziness or worse. But it was unfamiliar. She met his eyes questioningly. "What is it?"

"At least you're no longer accusing me of trying to poison you," he sneered. "It's Gravixterminus Potion."

To end an unwanted pregnancy. So...he had thought of that, finally. She held the vial for a little longer, hoping not to seem too abrupt; then she replaced the stopper and set it down on the desk.

"I don't want it."

His eyebrows went up. "So," he said, sullenly. "Do you intend some form of blackmail, Miss Darkglass?"

"You should know me better than that by now."

"Clearly not well enough to guess that you would refuse--"

"I may not even be pregnant," Sarah protested, interrupting. Yes, she might be. If her cycles were regular, she would know whether she was late or not, but they had never been regular, and there was still time.

"And if you are?" Snape asked angrily. "Precisely how do you propose to explain your condition?"

"I'll say," Sarah replied calmly, "that I slept with my Muggle boyfriend over Christmas." She hadn't told him yet that she wasn't staying at Hogwarts for Christmas--that was part of the reason she had wanted to see him tonight; now she doubted that it would matter to him either way. "That's why I'm going home for the holidays. To make it plausible."

"Muggle boyfriend?" he echoed.

"Just a boy I know in the village." She shrugged.

"And his name is...?"

"I fail to see what that matters." She did not want to talk about her summer boyfriend to her...her lover.

"I think I have the right to know something," he said icily, "about the boy who is supposed to be the father of my child."

Sarah looked away. "His name is Michael. I only see him in the summer and on breaks. It isn't serious. We just enjoy each other's company. Friends. He doesn't even know I'm a witch."

"What about your family--I believe you live with an aunt? She won't confront him and attempt to convince him to do his duty by you?"

Sarah shook her head. "I'll tell Aunt Portia that it was someone at school. Another student, I mean," she added hastily. "And that things ended badly. And that there's no possibility of continuing the relationship. And that I don't want to talk about it."

He studied her with cold eyes for a long time before he spoke again. "You seem to have given the matter a great deal of thought."

"How could I not?"

"And if you are expelled for your obvious indiscretion?"

Sarah picked at a fingernail. "I can't be the only student ever to have gotten pregnant at school. I don't think Professor McGonagall would kick me out with less than a term left to go; no one could possibly notice until well after Easter. And really," she finished, "this is all just speculation at this point."

"And if this speculation should be a reality? It is impossible to comprehend the insanity of you wishing to bear my child." The words were cutting, as if he were accusing her of something truly vile. Maybe he was.

"It's not blackmail," she said, knowing that was surely what he suspected most, "not of any kind. I don't want anything from you. I...I can't explain. I'm sorry, but I can't." How could she admit to him that when he was gone from her life, as she had always fully expected him to go, there might still be his child? That she could love that child, as she would never dare to love him?

They sat in silence for a minute...an uncomfortable silence. Sarah no longer felt like going into his chamber. She doubted, from his demeanor, that he felt in the least like taking her there.

"I'd better go," she said, standing. "You still have grading to do."

"Yes." He looked to the stack of parchment rolls.

"You could write to me." She turned back at the door. "Over Christmas."

"Perhaps I will," he said.

She did not think he meant it.

"Goodbye, Professor." She opened the door.

"Yes, then," he said, returning to his work. "Goodbye, Miss Darkglass."