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: 03/19/2005
Updated: 07/13/2015
Words: 282,703
Chapters: 64
Hits: 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 38

Posted:
10/04/2005
Hits:
1,200
Author's Note:
See, this one’s out a little sooner! Thanks for reading, and more thanks if you've been reviewing. Also, hats off to cecelle for her input on this chapter.


Chapter 38: Promise Me That All You Say Is True

It was difficult to pretend to study, but with the suspicion she had aroused, she couldn't be sure that she wasn't being spied on in some way. So she leafed through her Herbology text, not really taking in anything. She brought out quill, ink and parchment--it was remotely possible that the writing materials in the desk had been spelled to reveal anything that was written with them to an outside observer--and began making notes. She had been over all this material before, and she wrote woodenly, her mind begging now? now? now?

When she had enough notes to have something to show for the efforts she was supposed to be making, she pulled out her Astronomy textbook and opened it to the marked page. She had more than half hoped to find the flowers already green, a message already waiting, but her anxious eyes were met by cold blue ink.

Did that mean that he was already on his way? That could be a good thing...if the Notts hadn't turned Notting Chase into a fortress of sorts, expressly to prevent her rescue. The possibility that some of those defenses might be intended to prove fatal was more than a little worrisome. Why wouldn't he have tried to contact her before setting out after her? Had he assumed that she did not have her bag? Or that she would not have the privacy or opportunity to retrieve a message? Or had he forgotten about their secret system, just as she nearly had?

Maybe Katie or Angelina had failed to pass on her message. But even if they had forgotten, Severus would be wondering where she was when she didn't arrive in his room. By now.... Damn! She had Astronomy tonight! Severus would not expect her until late. And if he hadn't taken notice of her absence at dinner....

It's the only chance you have. So get on with it and write it before anything happens to prevent you!

With shaking hands, she placed the precious bottle of green ink beside the other and unstopped it. Underneath her notes on "Precautions with Fanged Geraniums," she wrote:

I am a prisoner at Notting Chase. B. L. is here. Respond before you do anything. Too much to tell at once.

Then, attempting to look as though she were merely twiddling her bookmark nervously, she slid it across the green words. They promptly vanished.

So...that's that.

Strangely, Sarah felt a more desperate sense of hopelessness than she had before. All her thoughts and energy had been focused on gaining the ability to write those few words. Now that they were sent, she realized how little she could do if Severus failed to answer. She would have to decide on her own, without his advice. And if she decided wrong....

She couldn't concentrate on Astronomy, although she ought to be studying it in earnest. Instead, she dug out her Potions book, tucked the bookmark into it, and took it to the bed. Without a wand to supply her needs, she had to light the candle at the bedside from the candelabra on the desk. Frustrated, she curled up among the satin pillows as comfortably as she could manage, and tried to numb her mind with reading things she already knew. With one eye constantly on the bookmark, that was difficult to accomplish. And the stresses of the day were finally telling on her nerves: she caught herself nodding off over her book without having had any idea that she was becoming sleepy.

No, she daren't fall asleep! Too much was at stake. She tried to rally herself and shifted position. She had to stay awake....

...she tripped, and the bottle of ink was jarred from her hand, falling to the....

Sarah jolted awake, the book half-fallen from her fingers, the bookmark half-fallen from the book. It took a good ten seconds of confused blinking in the dim candlelight before she realized that the flowers on the bookmark had turned a lovely deep green.

Hastily, she ran the bookmark across the bottom margin of the page.

Are you in danger?

Sarah could have wept, if she were not so worried that it would attract attention. It was maddening to move at the slow pace that would make sense if she had just woken up after having fallen asleep over her book and was dragging herself back to the desk to make some more notes. When she sank down in the chair, she was trembling. But she laid the open Potions book on the desk, picked up her quill, and began to write....

Bit by bit, Sarah explained the threats that had been offered, the demands that had been made, the choices that had been placed before her.

How did Nott manage to kidnap you?

Did you not get my message from Angelina?

No.

Sarah felt vaguely betrayed, although she knew how unlikely that message had been to arrive at its destination. She could hardly blame Katie or Angelina for forgetting when even Albus Dumbledore had not been able to remember his own mental notes concerning her.

But you checked for a note? It had been some time since they used their secret message system on a regular basis. The Portkey had obviated much of the need for it, since she could appear in the privacy of his room without detection, regardless of where he might be or who might be in his office.

It seemed to be one of the few options remaining. When you did not appear at supper, I checked in your workroom, and then with Madam Pomfrey. When you failed to arrive here within a reasonable period after your Astronomy class, it was apparent that something had gone very wrong.

What time was it? Sarah looked around the room. The delicate porcelain clock on the mantle had such slender hands that it was difficult to read from the least distance, even lighted by the candelabras that stood on each side of it, but by squinting, she gathered that it was after one o'clock.

I don't know what to do, she wrote. And I'm afraid to sleep.

The return answer was slow in coming. Understandably, it would take a little time for him to decide on the best option. But as the minutes stretched by, Sarah began to worry that he had no best option to suggest. Did he intend, as her uncle had suggested, to abandon her to her fate at this least sign of difficulty to himself in protecting her?

No! That was an unworthy thought. Severus had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep her--he could not possibly give her up so easily.

But...why had he gone to so much trouble to begin with? The motives that her captors had attributed to him, despicable as they were, haunted her. Of course, she had asked him why he insisted on marrying her, and eventually she had been satisfied with the answer. But it had never occurred to her to wonder why he would take the risk he had taken at the very start of their relationship. She had assumed the obvious: he had desired her, had given in to his hormones when his mind had run out of adequate reasons to restrain himself. But as she reconsidered what she knew of her husband, that reasoning seemed far less satisfactory than when it had been a simple, unstudied rationalization....

Unable even to pretend to concentrate on her book, she stood up, trying to turn her mind away from such thoughts to the more immediate and slightly less troubling question of what object or objects in the room might have been enchanted for the purpose of spying on her. One of the portraits, maybe? At least half of them seemed to be of long-dead Nott brides, leaning wearily against their gilt frames, as listless and silent as they had likely been in life. How many of them had begun their sojourns at Notting Chase as prisoners in this room? Sarah had no desire to try to engage any of them in conversation to find out. Nonetheless, she retrieved a candlestick and began pacing around the room, studying the pictures, hoping to determine which, if any of them, was watching her too carefully.

Most of the portrait women were sleeping, and they blinked uneasily when she approached with a light. As she approached the corner where the bookcase stood, however, she discovered that what had seemed, in the daylight, to be paintings of harmless romantic scenes had become lurid depictions of an entirely erotic nature. They were without sound and even without the movement that was typical of magical pictures, but in a way, that was worse. When one expected them to move, the tension of that expectation evoked disturbingly vivid mental images of what was about to occur. It would have been easier, if they were actually animated, to turn from them in disgust, instead of staring in fascinated dismay.

Sarah forced her eyes away, a guilty heat spreading through her body. Tears sprang suddenly to her eyes as she realized that this room was intended, above all else, to resign its occupant to inevitable rape. She strode angrily back to the desk.

An answer, at last.

McGonagall was just here. I had asked earlier that she check your dormitory. Evidently, her appearance triggered more than one memory. Katie Bell confessed that she had forgotten to pass along your message. Unfortunately, Angelina, in some Gryffindor fit of conscience, had already confessed that you were in the habit of sneaking out to meet your lover.

The underlining was like a slash across her own conscience.

She nearly caught me, twice, and I had to tell her something. She thinks it's another student.

Can you be sure she thinks so now? And why did you not inform me of these incidents when they occurred?

Sarah winced. The first time was a long time ago, right after we began. If I'd told you, you would have put a stop to our relationship. The last time was right after we came back from...she hesitated, then wrote...Darkglass Hall. I told a story that convinced her, and I saw no reason to worry you with the matter.

It is necessary that I know everything that bears upon our situation. If they had been speaking in person, she had no doubt he would be shouting at her.

I hardly know everything that bears on our situation. In fact, I'm quite sure you know more than I, when it comes to that. How much have you kept from me? Then, compelled by anger and the lingering fear that her uncle had been right about him: Come to think of it, I don't even know why you slept with me to begin with.

A pause before he answered. A pause that harrowed up Sarah's soul.

I refuse to discuss this under the present circumstances.

Guilt. Unmistakable guilt.

Why not?

In case it has escaped your notice, we have far more serious problems at present.

He was right, of course. Somehow that made her angrier. She wanted him to defend himself. To make some reply that would take all her fears away. Maybe you don't dare to tell me the real reason.

A slightly longer pause. I was under the impression that you, of all people, wouldn't turn against me now.

That was guilt, alright--guilt of her own. The guilt he was intending she should feel. The quill shook in her fingers.

I just want to know the truth.

You know how that's ended before.

I have never turned against you, in the end! So why did the sense of guilt remain? And that niggling horror of suspicion?

Then is there any answer I could give that would change your mind about what you will next choose to do?

If it was true, what her uncle and Bellatrix had said...if Severus had used her, entirely as they had accused...would that make her any more inclined to accept the options they had given her? Or would she prefer rescue, even by such a man, to remaining at their mercy?

No, there isn't, she confessed. But what about when she was safe again...what would she feel then, if her uncle were proven right?

Then put the matter aside. It is more important now to decide what is to be done.

Sarah felt a tear roll down her cheek. Against her better judgment, she scrawled, Do you love me?

No, I'm contemplating risking my life on your behalf because I have nothing better to do with my evening. Now, be still and let me think.

Sarah was still, or mostly so. She brushed occasionally at the tears that would fall, regardless of her determination to be stoic. She was as bad as Niniane. Was the internal drumming of tiny feet a query after his mother's welfare or an accusation at her weakness?

Evidently, Severus had finished thinking. Sarah drew the bookmark hesitantly across the parchment.

I think it best to agree to Bella's plans, for the time being.

You can't mean me to go through with them??

No. But there can scarcely be any better protection than her determination that your pregnancy should remain hidden. She may even be able to convince the Dark Lord that there is no need for him to see you again until she has you better prepared.

And when I break my agreement with her?? Sarah was aghast that Severus could be so cavalier about double-crossing Bellatrix Lestrange. Both she and my uncle will be furious!

Relationships in the Inner Circle seldom remain static for long. A solution will not be required for months--more than adequate time to plan our next move.

I'm afraid.

As you should be. But what other options have we? It would take a half-dozen Aurors or more to break into Notting Chase, if it is as guarded as you say. And I doubt very much whether I could pull the right strings to set that in motion before your answer is required. Besides, refusing Bella now is as likely to infuriate her as rejecting her later.

Sarah considered. I'm not going to tell her until the last possible moment. I'm worried that she will start in on me at once if I agree too soon. And I would rather get what benefit I can from keeping her and my relatives at each other's throats.

Excellent. But don't push any of them too far.

Sarah bit her lip. I don't know how I can bear it, staying here all weekend.

You survived an audience with the Dark Lord.

Did he mean that to be encouraging? Sarah snorted faintly, in dark humor. I was there for an hour. And I didn't have to be afraid of...she paused, unable to write what was in her mind...certain things.

You can hardly fear that your uncle will touch you? Few men are sick or desperate enough take a woman heavy with another man's child.

Even out of spite? I'm afraid to sleep. I don't even have my wand.

Your aunt appears to be the greater threat, based upon what you've told me. Do not lose perspective.

How easy that was for him to say, safe inside the walls of Hogwarts!

What are you going to do?

I shall go into Hogsmeade tomorrow and send an appropriately threatening letter to Nott, as he no doubt expects. I shall also send a letter to Lucius, informing him of what Nott has done.

He can hardly think that you would seriously expect him to support you? Sarah was puzzled. He spoke out against you at the meeting.

Nevertheless, he views himself as a friend, of sorts. He would expect me to turn to him, regardless. Indeed, I daresay much of his behavior of late has been due to his resentment that I failed to do so earlier. But the point, which I would have expected you to understand, is to stir up the hornets' nest.

Oh...of course. I'm sorry. I'm so tired I can hardly think.

Sleep, he ordered.

I don't dare.

We can't go on writing. If you are being observed, the longer we continue this, the more likely suspicion will be aroused.

The idea of their communication ceasing, of being once more trapped alone in this horrible room was unbearable. And yet, he was undoubtedly right. But she felt quite desperate.

How can I sleep, if I'm apt to wake up and find myself being attacked? I don't know how to protect myself like this, without a wand.

A longer pause, as if he were considering the problem. You are not helpless, Sarah. You did wandless magic, as a child.

Those were charms with objects, not proper spells. And there's nothing in this room to work with, even to create a protective charm.

Wait a moment.

Sarah, puzzled, did so. After a short while, the flowers changed to green again.

Technically, wandless magic requires nothing more than a strong will and a focus to substitute for your wand. I've found a spell that may work, should anyone try to harm you. I expect that you will have sufficient will in that case. The spell is Carpe baculum. It will permit you to use another person's wand, even without touching it, as a focus for your own spell. But it must be used non-verbally, and the succeeding spell must be chosen quickly and wisely, because the target can regain control of their wand with absolute ease, merely by re-establishing it as their own focus.

Sarah jotted the spell down rapidly on another piece of parchment before it disappeared. Even as she did so, the flowers turned green again.

I advise you to use another non-verbal spell as the follow-up. One that will disable your attacker. I truly hope that I'm correct in assuming Crouch taught you the use of non-verbal spells last year.

Yes.

Good. Have you a spell in mind?

Sarah considered. To disable one's opponent in a duel was difficult enough. Usually nothing more was needed than a hex that would distract the person long enough to give one adequate time to cast a well-aimed disarming spell. To disable someone sufficiently to prevent them from using their wand in a counterattack was another matter altogether. And yet that was what was required: there would be no second chance, not without a wand of her own. Unfortunately, two of the more effective spells that she could think of in the situation--Expelliarmus and Stupefy--were among those that were most difficult to cast non-verbally. Straightforward spells always were, for some reason, perhaps because they relied on main force. The more subtle the spell, the easier it was to cast without vocalizing it. And subtle, deadly spells were not a usual part of the curriculum at Hogwarts, not even under the Death Eater who had masqueraded all last year as the ex-Auror Moody.

Not readily, no, she confessed.

Then I suggest this one: Sectumsempra. It's a form of slicing hex, as effective as a sword or knife, with enough will to do harm behind it. However, I warn you, if you're squeamish, it will do you no good whatsoever. It is advisable to focus precisely on how you wish to cut. The body contains vulnerable organs, but to kill, aim for the throat. If Nott tries to hurt you...well, I leave that to your imagination.

She wrote the spell underneath the other, feeling a chill creep up her spine.

To kill.

Was it really possible to do that--to intend in advance to do that--without becoming Bellatrix Lestrange's shadow in the process? But no--if it was a matter of protecting Severian...Sarah let her free hand stray across her stomach...or even protecting herself, it was hardly murder, even if she planned in advance to use deadly force against anyone who tried to attack her. And if Severus was snidely suggesting castration as an appropriate punishment for her uncle...well, she could do that gladly. Carpe baculum indeed!

Thank you, she wrote.

At least you will sleep safer. Which you had best do now. You will hardly be able to survive the weekend unscathed if you are unable to keep your wits about you. Now sleep.

Sarah smiled faintly, imagining his furrowed brow, his slight frown, his rigidity of frame as he gave her an order he expected to be obeyed.

Goodnight, she wrote.

Goodnight.

And that was all. It was tempting to add some sentimental drivel. But something held her back. Was it that she would rather not be snubbed if he failed to respond in kind? Or was it the memory of her uncle's accusation, making her doubt if he had ever truly loved her at all?

Wearily, she put away all her things. If, by some chance, she had the opportunity to leave sooner, she did not want to waste time gathering her possessions. She stowed them under the bed, to prevent them from being taken from her easily either. At last (it was past two by the clock), she lay down in the bed without changing her clothes: she would not acknowledge their right to keep her here even that far. And she felt safer as well. Keeping her clothes on would keep her primed to be awake, not asleep. And before she gave in to her exhaustion, she held the two spells in her mind for as long as she could--Carpe baculum...Sectumsempra...Carpe baculum...Sectumsempra--until unconsciousness silenced all her unquiet thoughts.


Author notes: Readers of HBP will recognize Sectumsempra. Even though this story is now AU, I decided that the spell was useful anyway. It has the same source as in HBP.

Carpe baculum is a nod to my favorite book by Roger Zelazny: A Night in the Lonesome October. It’s a really funny book—either a tribute to or a parody of the horror genre—and a really perfect read at this time of year, if you can find it. In the book, the canine main character receives the advice “Carpe baculum,” which he assumes is merely a feline wisecrack (he interprets it, at first, as “fetch the stick”). The real meaning worked awfully well for this spell.