- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Ships:
- Original Female Witch/Severus Snape
- Characters:
- Original Female Witch Severus Snape
- Genres:
- Romance Angst
- Era:
- The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
- Spoilers:
- Order of the Phoenix
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/19/2005Updated: 07/13/2015Words: 282,703Chapters: 64Hits: 98,814
A Merciless Affection
Verity Brown
- Story Summary:
- When a N.E.W.T. Potions field trip goes badly wrong, a chain of events is set in motion that may cost Snape more than his life, and a student more than her heart. Angst/angsty romance. SS/OC (of-age student). AU after HBP but canon with OotP. Contains mature theme and some sex.
Chapter 32
- Posted:
- 07/19/2005
- Hits:
- 1,337
- Author's Note:
- I hope you all enjoyed that little break in the gloom and doom. Much gratitude to my wonderful reviewers! On this chapter, I also owe a deep debt to Lady Whitehart, cecelle and Swtbrier for their valiant efforts at helping me keep the characters in character—hat’s off to you, ladies.
Chapter 32: If Pride Will Let Her Return To Me, Her Teacher
As Sarah climbed the narrow stairs, she heard sounds coming from inside a couple of the flats which suggested that the working girls had found lunchtime customers. She squirmed inwardly, remembering this morning. She quickened her pace and, upon reaching the door of Severus's flat, hastily lifted the wards and ducked inside.
"Who's there?" Severus called out from the bedroom. He sounded less groggy than she would have thought. She was chagrined at having woken him (he'd only been sleeping three hours at the most), but then she realized that she probably would have done so no matter how quietly she'd come in. He slept as lightly as someone obsessed with wards could be expected to.
"It's Sarah," she called. She laid her cloak aside and slipped into the bedroom. He had risen up on his elbows, wand held ready to attack an intruder. His eyes were rimmed with red. "Go back to sleep," she begged. "The letters are sent."
He let himself fall back to the bed, letting his eyelids fall shut. "I suppose you managed your little jaunt without any trouble?"
"Not a bit." She sat on the side of the bed and put her hand on his. "I hope you know that your aunt is a wonderful person."
The corner of his mouth twisted, but he didn't answer.
"I'm going to sit in the kitchen and read. I'll try to let you sleep."
His response was to pull a pillow over his face.
Smirking quietly, she left him to it.
He came out of the bedroom about two o'clock in the afternoon, wearing the sort of scowl that Sarah remembered from first-thing-in-the-morning Potions classes. She hurried to make him some tea.
Bringing the teapot back to the table to steep, Sarah saw him looking absently at the Herbology text she had been studying. She set the pot down, then sat down herself. She had totted up in her head the amount she'd spent that morning, and now she gave him a report about it before he could even ask.
"Miriam took me to the Shadow Post," Sarah said. "I was worried that it was too much."
He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if it still ached. "I was exceedingly careful in what I wrote."
"I didn't peek to find out."
"Ah yes, you could have, couldn't you?" He grimaced. "I suppose that would have saved me the effort of telling you." He sighed and began tracing his lips with his middle finger.
"You realize," he said, "that it is no longer safe to attempt to hide our relationship from the Dark Lord. Or at least the fact that I have been your mentor. Although the rest will eventually come out, I don't doubt. I've tried to minimize, for the time being, whatever damage Lucius has done. But once you are safely back at Hogwarts, I shall have to approach the Dark Lord and explain my actions. There is a hazard," he continued, as if in response to Sarah's increasingly anxious expression. "But I believe I can convince him that I had good reasons for remaining silent about you. The biggest danger, of course, is that he will command me to bring you before him. But I see now that that was probably inevitable. Certainly from the moment you threatened Draco."
"It was such a stupid thing to do," Sarah groaned, folding her arms tightly.
"In hindsight, yes. But at the time it served a useful enough purpose. And it also proved that you are able to put on that mask when necessary. Even I found it difficult to doubt you, as I watched you in the Pensieve. And what you did once, you can do again. It is in you to do it."
Sarah nodded, but she was frowning, and he saw it.
"I thought you had made up your mind to this?" he said sharply.
"I have. But I'm still afraid. What if that persona becomes the real me? What if I forget who I am?"
His eyes slid away from hers. "I won't pretend it won't change you. Indeed, it already has to some degree. Are you able to recognize that?" He fixed her in his gaze again.
"Yes," she answered. "That's why I'm afraid."
"As long as you can remember," he said slowly, "who you were, you won't lose yourself entirely."
"Who I was when?" she asked. "Before I became one of Umbridge's toadies? Before I married you? Before I came down to the dungeon to sleep with you? Before my parents died?" Her voice began to crack, and she lowered her face into her arms on the table for a moment. Finally, regaining control, she raised her head. "I'm not sure I was ever really innocent. Almost from the time I can remember, I was a pawn for both sides in my parents' personal little war."
He grimaced.
She sat up straight, twitching restlessly, clenching her hands together on the tabletop. "I'm afraid for Severian. I can understand why my mother kept putting charms on me." She let one hand stray to press against her abdomen.
"Don't," he warned, "even think of doing such a thing!"
"I won't," she returned. "But now I understand why she did. And now I need to protect him even from myself." Her voice quavered.
"Stop it, Sarah!" He gripped her arm hard, across the table. "This serves no purpose!"
"I'm sorry." She struggled to pull herself together. Finally she begged, "Please hold me."
Somehow, she was on her feet (although her knees were none too sure of the idea), and he was there, and she was in his arms. Safe. What a splendid illusion that was! Worthy of a prize in Witch Weekly's yearly 'Magic on Display' contest. Except that no one else would ever be aware of it. "I'm sorry," she said again, still quivering. "I didn't mean to break down."
"You've had every reason to," he said, swaying her gently. "But I need your strength, Sarah. I don't want to lose you. Not now."
"Tell me lies," she whispered. "So I won't be afraid."
"What lies?" he asked, as if he had never told a lie in his life.
"Tell me that it won't...taint Severian, for me to go before him, for me to pretend...."
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
"I don't know." She buried her face against his shoulder.
"How could that possibly occur?" She felt him shake his head. "Darkness is hardly a contagion. It's a temptation, a choice."
Sarah took a deep, ragged breath. "Promise me you'll help me remember who I am."
"Why would I not?"
Sarah hesitated. "You said once that you didn't want to corrupt me. But every time I lose a little more innocence...you're glad. Sorry, too," she said, as he stiffened. "But glad."
He held her tighter. "I don't suppose I can have it both ways, can I?" he murmured ruefully.
"Severus, who do you want me to be?" Not a good question, perhaps.
He said nothing for a long time. It was a silence that began to make her nervous, pondering all the things he might say, all the things he might want to say but would not. Then, finally, he answered, "Just Sarah."
Whatever answer she had hoped for, it was not that. It ought to have been a perfectly satisfactory answer. It ought to have meant that he loved her. Probably it did. But she also sensed that it allowed for the possibility that, if the Dark Lord triumphed, Severus Snape, the loyal Death Eater, would be content to have Sarah Darkglass Snape for his companion, in private as well as in the Dark Lord's presence. And that did not satisfy her at all.
"Promise me you won't let me forget..." she wanted to say myself, but that was no longer a safe thing to ask "...how to be a good person. No matter what happens," she entreated, pressing her fingers into his back as if that would emphasize how important it was.
"A good person?" he sighed into her hair. "How could I teach you to be a good person? I have never been that. Sometimes better, sometimes worse, but never...."
"You were a child once," she interrupted.
"I was no more innocent as a child than you were. Less so. Do you think I hesitated to use the hexes my uncle taught me? The first spell he taught me when he gave me my wand was for killing vermin by crushing them. I was supposed to learn control that way--by varying the speed and the force of the spell. He offered me a Knut for every ten flies I killed, and two for five rats. I had enough pocket money for sweets to bribe even a scrawny bastard's way into any gang I wanted to run with for the week. But it wasn't just the money. I enjoyed watching them die, knowing my power was killing them. Gods, why am I telling you this?" He rocked her back and forth in his arms.
"Because you can," she said. When he paused, suddenly and coldly, in his soothing motions, she added, "I don't mean that badly. I mean that you don't have to keep secrets from me now."
He began to laugh, mirthlessly. "Oh, Sarah. It isn't that easy."
"Seven is too young for a wand," she went on, ignoring him. "Severian won't have a wand until he's at least nine."
"And I suppose that's how old you were?"
"Yes."
"I take it that's why your mother left?"
Sarah considered this. She said, amazed, "I suppose it is. I didn't realize it then. She took it away from me, of course, when we went to live with Aunt Portia, because I wasn't supposed to have a wand until I went to Hogwarts. She bought me a new one, then. I don't know what she did with my old one. But she must have been afraid that, with a wand, my father could teach me stronger Dark spells."
"Did he?"
Sarah nodded into his shoulder. "A few. I tried to forget them. I did, really, until you started teaching me again."
"Are you ready for another lesson?"
"Occlumency? Or Dark magic?"
"Dark magic, I think, this time. You're doing well enough at Occlumency. When I return from speaking to the Dark Lord," his voice wavered slightly, adding the unspoken if I return, "I'll put the memory in the Pensieve for you to watch. What you require now is experience in feeling Dark power." He let her go and stepped back from her, looking down at the table.
"Goodness, the tea!" Sarah said. "It'll be unbearably strong."
"I need it strong." He rubbed his eyes. "Get the milk. And another saucer."
Sarah retrieved the pitcher from the cold cupboard, which Severus had put back in operation when they bought groceries. The sugar bowl was already on the table.
After adding a generous portion of both to his cup, which Sarah then filled with tea, he took it up and stepped away to the window. "Pour some milk into the spare saucer and dissolve three lumps of sugar in it."
Once she had done so, he asked, "Do you know a spell to curdle milk?"
It was one of the earliest spells her father had taught her. Simple wandless spells for petty revenge against an enemy. She took a deep breath and murmured the words. The milk and sugar mixture swirled and took on an unpleasant odor.
He opened both halves of the casement, as wide as they would go.
Immediately, she saw where he was going with the lesson. But she said nothing at first. Instead, she got a cup and saucer for herself. When she reached for the pitcher, however, she found that her spell had been a little too strong; the effect had spilled over, and all the milk was spoiled. She made do with sugar, grimacing at the black intensity.
It seemed a long time until a fly buzzed into the room. Sarah had finished her tea and was staring at the leaves.
"Did you take Divination?" she asked.
He snorted. "Rot."
"That's what I thought, too, although Aunt Portia always used to read the leaves. Tall, dark stranger sort of thing. But I don't know how." She set her cup and saucer down. "What's the spell?"
"Obtero."
Sarah pulled out her wand. She shut her eyes for a moment. It's a fly. You'd swat it easily enough with a flyswatter.
You must never kill with magic, Sarah! Her aunt's voice, when she had asked why they couldn't use a spell to get rid of flies and mosquitoes. Goodness, Julia, what has he taught the girl?
Her father's voice. Magic is a tool, Sarah. The power to achieve what you desire, as much as your hands, your voice, your mind.
Swallowing, she opened her eyes. The buzzing had gone silent. No, there it was, diving between the sink and the table. She lifted her wand and took a breath.
"Obtero!"
The buzzing ended on a surprised note. Then, after a moment, it began faintly again, from the floor. Severus stalked over, as she gingerly approached the fluttering black speck. He crouched down to examine it. Sarah remained standing; she did not want to see the results of her handiwork at any closer range.
"You held back," he accused.
"I couldn't help it," she said.
"Oh, and what has your hesitation accomplished? Prolonging its suffering? Is that what you wanted?"
Sarah's eyes prickled. "No."
"Then finish what you began," he ordered, ruthlessly.
She raised her wand again and pointed it at the floor. More firmly. "Obtero!"
The buzzing stopped.
He prodded the dead fly with his finger, then picked up gingerly and took it to the bin.
"I expect you will be less cruel next time," he said, brutally enough that her desire to flee for comfort into his arms was crushed quicker than the fly had been. "While we wait for another, I'll help you study your Herbology."
He picked up her book, flipped through it, and began firing questions at her that forced her mind onto her Herbology N.E.W.T. and away from what she had done. After a while, the sound of buzzing intruded again. He glanced up, his lip curling, then asked about the care of Venomous Tentacula. Sarah answered automatically, then lifted her wand.
A quick death. That was all the mercy she could give. Probably more than a fly deserved, but she didn't want to hear that faint, helpless buzzing again. The sound of dying.
"Obtero!"
Silence.
"What are the four primary properties of Blood Mallows?" he said, as if he had noticed nothing.
By the time they stopped for supper, she had killed seven flies. It had gotten easier, and although she still held the frightening feeling of dark power at bay, it was there, trying to caress the edges of her mind. She could understand why a boy who was powerless within his own family had savored it, but it still sickened her. It is below Malcolm Darkglass's daughter to kill flies, she thought, and wished she hadn't. But it gave her a focus for her disdain that made her feel like her father's daughter. Without enjoying meting out death. And that was all that was necessary.
Severus closed the windows and disposed of the milk before they went out. They had curry again, which made her feel better, and put fresh milk into the cold cupboard. Then he set her questions in Astronomy until the candle began guttering.
He shut the book with a snap. "Get your cloak."
Restraining herself from asking questions, she did as he said. To her surprise, they went up instead of down. Two flights up, the stairs ran out, and they had to resort to a ladder, which led up to a disturbingly dark and cobwebby attic, stuffed full of shapeless masses (which remained shapeless, even when Severus lit up his wand) among the few identifiable boxes and bits of furniture. Sarah let him take the lead, shrinking against him from the brush of spider silk on her face and hands. She was sure she would scream if she felt any skittering. Thankfully, she didn't.
Finally they came out through a small door onto a narrow balcony off the back gable end of the house. Severus swung over the railing at one end, onto the relatively flat roof of the warehouse next door. He lifted and steadied her as she attempted the same maneuver, then took her hand and drew her out of the shadows into the center of the roof.
"Not very helpful for Astronomy, I suppose," he said.
He was right. Scarcely any stars were discernible; even the one currently visible planet was dim in the western sky. It was only in lowering the eyes that the beauty of the night appeared: lights and lights and lights, as far as she could see. Muggle lights, of course. Little fires burning inside glass balls: a curious thing for Muggles to have come up with, and hardly to be believed if she hadn't seen it herself in the village with Michael. They marked out, in regular rows, the square shapes of tall buildings. In other places, whole edifices seemed to be bathed in radiance. Down in the streets, the lamps on the Muggle cars went to and fro like glowworms trapped in a maze.
Knockturn and Diagon Alleys made two curiously darker lines amid the rest. Muggles, of course, wouldn't be able to see them at all. But Sarah could, and she pressed closer to Severus and hid her face against his arm.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Just...our world seems...so small, in the middle of all this."
"Hmm, I never thought of it like that."
"How did you think of it?"
He said nothing for a moment, only looking around at the skyline. He pressed her hand a little tighter. "The first time I saw it, I thought somehow the stars had fallen from heaven. It was the most beautiful magic I'd ever seen." He snorted softly. "Of course, it wasn't magic. But still...."
Sarah raised her head and tried to see it. Yes, it did seem so. The grey-black canopy of the night, so denuded of the diamond wonders she knew, seemed to have shaken off its stars like a fall of leaves, and they had drifted all around Wizarding London, which stood uncovered among them like a low, dark wall.
"It is beautiful," she said, holding his hand tightly. "Better than Astronomy. I'm so sick of Astronomy. Even Herbology, for that matter."
"Not Potions?" he asked snidely.
"Could I ever be sick of Potions?" she asked, turning to him and slipping her free hand around him.
"After another twenty years you may find it possible," he said sardonically.
"Am I going to do well enough on my Potions N.E.W.T.?"
"I thought I told you not to worry."
Sarah let her head fall against his chest.
"What will happen if I don't qualify for the apprenticeship? What will happen even if I do?"
He was silent for a long time. Long enough that she raised her head, hoping to decipher something from his expression. But either it was too dark to discern enough to guess, or else his expression was simply unreadable.
"You do know how unstable things are at present?" he asked tightly.
"I...suppose so," she said, looking away.
He pressed a hand to the side of her head, forcing her to face him again. "At any moment," he said harshly, "my efforts could be discovered, which would result, probably not so immediately as I would wish, in my death."
She made her eyes look anywhere but into his. I don't want to think about that. But she didn't dare to say so. It was a fact of the life they were leading, and there was nothing to be done about it.
He went on, "It is also possible that the Dark Lord may devise his own plans for your future, against which I may find myself powerless to act. In that event, the fact of our marriage may prove to be the only thing that will protect you, if he should choose to acknowledge it. But that's our ace, and I don't want it revealed until absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"
"Yes." She nodded against his chest; she had drawn close to him again during this last speech. So much for being able to be known as his wife anywhere.
"You will do excellently on your Potions N.E.W.T. Otherwise you will be living here in my flat, full time, since I have no place else to put you. And neither of us would be pleased with that, I think."
Sarah smirked. "Well, I would enjoy your aunt's company." She felt his back stiffen a little. "But I do enjoy your company more." She held him tighter, felt him relax slightly. Then, more quietly, she asked, "What about Severian?"
Silence again. "I supposed from the beginning that you intended to foster him during your apprenticeship."
"I did. But that was when I thought that my Aunt Portia would do it. Now I haven't anyone I would trust him with."
"When the apprenticeship was originally proposed, Dumbledore suggested that a house-elf or two could be assigned the duty of watching him."
"Keep him at Hogwarts, you mean?" Sarah's heart swelled with a combination of hope and disbelief at the unexpected suggestion. "How would that be possible? How would we keep him hidden? We can't possibly keep him shut up in the dungeons for the first two years of his life. And what about Umbridge?"
"Yes, well, there are some substantial difficulties. Not the least of which is the possibility that the Dark Lord will insist upon using him as a hostage for your good behavior. In which case you may be obliged to foster him with your other relatives."
"The Notts?" Sarah did not hide her distaste for the idea; the distaste almost hid her fear. "He would be treated horribly! And I'm not just talking about being raised in a Dark Wizarding family. My Aunt Fiona despises me, and has done, probably since I was born."
"I didn't say I approved of the situation," Severus said, low and cold. "I am only suggesting what you need to be prepared for."
Sarah shuddered. "The flat is looking better and better."
"You're willing to sacrifice your apprenticeship?" His disbelief was tinged with anger. "Live in Knockturn Alley? Take care of an infant entirely on your own? See me once a month during term time, if that?" His voice had gotten progressively sharper as he went on, and she couldn't help reacting with her own snarkiness.
"Isn't that how a good little wife ought to behave?" she asked snidely. She went on, more seriously, "It isn't as if I can't still study. And if that's what I have to do to protect Severian...."
"You aren't listening to me, Sarah!" He pushed her to arm's length. "There may be no way of doing that to your liking. Not now. I like it as little as you do. But I want both of you alive. Other things can be repaired; not that." With a look of anguish, he pulled her close again.
Sarah thought of other things that could not be repaired: her child so thoroughly corrupted in his infancy that he would end up as much of a snot as young Malfoy; the mark on Severus's arm; just such a mark, if were she compelled to take it, on her own; the shadow that was growing over her with every Dark spell she spoke.
"Maybe I should have taken Divination," she said quietly. "It would be nice, right now, to know the future."
Author notes: I admit it: that last line was written in my own extreme frustration of waiting for the release of HBP. I fear this last week will be more anxious than all the weeks before it have been. So very, very close...argh!
The next chapter after this will be the last I’ll post before HBP comes out. I promise it will be nicely cliffhangy, to tide you over until I resume writing, which will be just as soon as I can figure out how the information in HBP will or will not impact the planned outline of the rest of the story. I do not intend to give up on this story, regardless of HBP, so never fear.