A Merciless Affection

Chapter 44: Gossip's Worth Its Weight in Gold

"Madam Pomfrey!"

The double doors of the hospital wing burst open, and a small knot of I.S. members stumbled in, led by a fifth year Slytherin girl whom Sarah recognized as Harriet Bulstrode's little sister Millicent. She was supporting an unconscious, levitated, thick-set boy--one of the goons that habitually hung around with Draco Malfoy, although Sarah had never bothered to sort out which was Crabbe and which was Goyle. Close behind was Draco Malfoy himself, squealing like a girl as he tore at several great flapping shapes that seemed to be attached to his face. Bringing up the rear was Daisy Grimes, a sixth year Slytherin who could not have looked less like her name. She was pushing along Corvus Warrington, likewise unconscious.

"What on earth?" Pomfrey said, coming out from behind the Auror's screen.

"We were attacked by Gryffindors!" Millicent complained.

Madam Pomfrey did not comment on that accusation as she helped settle the two unconscious boys onto beds. Then, with a quick flick of her wand, she cast the countercurse on Draco. Immediately, the flapping things disappeared, although now his face was covered with a slime that looked suspiciously like snot. Pomfrey handed him a cloth, which he used gingerly to wipe it off. With the bogeys gone, it was evident that his face was scratched up, whether from the flapping things or from his own fingernails, it was hard to say.

"What are you staring at, Darkglass?" Malfoy sneered, although the effect was rather lost due to the flush of embarrassment on his face.

"Just wondering who managed to rough up a bunch of big, tough I.S.ers," Sarah said mockingly. "Some first years this time?"

"It was Potter's stupid friends," Draco answered. "Umbridge caught him sneaking into her office, using the fireplace to try to talk to Dumbledore."

Suddenly, something clicked in Sarah's head. Potter had been trying to find McGonagall, and then he had resorted to an act he had to have known was desperately foolish to reach Dumbledore. With the instinct of someone who had, herself, lately been without help, Sarah realized that something must be wrong. Very, very wrong.

"So what happened? Wasn't Umbridge able to protect her ickle I.S.ers?" Sarah asked, trying to keep her voice mocking, so as not to betray the importance of the information to her.

Draco reached for his wand...which clearly wasn't there. He stared at Sarah's drawn wand with a bizarre mixture of terror and contempt, his eyes darting to find Madam Pomfrey. Sarah kept her own eyes steady, not willing to be tricked or distracted; Draco obviously did not find the help that he expected.

"What do you care?" he said.

"Just curious," Sarah said. "I thought it might be useful to be able to report on what Umbridge has been doing to Potter to...certain people. I might even mention your name. Although I'd omit the circumstances." She forced a smirk; it was more difficult than she thought, with a sensation like ice condensing in the marrow of her bones.

Draco's eyes narrowed, but he said, "Umbridge took Potter and Granger into the Forbidden Forest. Supposedly old Dumb-dumb's had them building some kind of weapon to use against the Ministry."

Sarah blinked. This was the first she'd heard of a weapon. "Surely you're not that stupid, Malfoy," she said. "Why would Dumbledore bother with attacking the Ministry?"

Draco paled slightly, the scratches standing out even redder on his face.

Sarah got up.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked of her back. She did not bother to answer.

* * *

Sarah tried to break into a run as the double doors of the hospital wing closed behind her but found it impossible to sustain for more than a few steps. Damn it, her sides and back hurt! She settled for a brisk walk, praying it didn't look too much like a waddle.

It was dinnertime. Which meant that Severus would be in the Great Hall. Damn! But she had no choice. This wouldn't wait. Something needed Dumbledore's attention--or at least Potter had desperately believed so. And there was no knowing what Umbridge might do to Potter out there. As little as Sarah liked the boy, she was gripped with a grudging conviction that Potter was likely to be the key to the Dark Lord's defeat.

I'm just delivering a message, she told herself, trying to put on the proper expression for the event. There's no reason for anyone to suppose otherwise.

At least she would not walk down the whole length of the Great Hall under everyone's eyes. Instead she made her way around to where the staff entrance was supposed to be and, feeling as if she were trespassing on forbidden territory, she slipped inside.

She was in a cozy chamber lined with portraits of witches and wizards--likely staff members of years gone by. "You're not supposed to be in here," a sharp-faced witch commented.

"I have a message for Professor Snape," Sarah answered. The witch turned up her nose, but made no further protest as Sarah crossed the room to the door on the other side and opened it hesitantly.

Looking out on the Great Hall from this perspective was a curious sensation. With Umbridge, McGonagall and Hagrid missing, it was easy to both see and be seen, and several students near the front had caught a glimpse of a seventh year Gryffindor student behind the staff table. Not waiting for their puzzled stares to attract more attention, Sarah stepped quickly over to where Severus was stabbing at the remains of a steak and kidney pie.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, the moment he became aware of her. His expression, predictably, was furious. If she had been there on her own behalf, she would have turned around and left without another word.

"It's Potter," she whispered back urgently. A few of the other teachers turned their heads.

"I am aware of the situation," Severus growled under his breath.

Sarah felt stymied. If her news was no news at all, then why hadn't Draco mentioned the fact that his Head of House knew what was going on? Was Severus actually willing to let Umbridge inflict whatever she liked on the boy? From what Sarah had heard and seen during her months in the I.S., Umbridge's hatred of Potter rivaled even Severus's. Anything could happen out there, and the woman could tell whatever story she liked--no one would ever know the truth. "You know that Umbridge has taken him into the Forbidden Forest?"

His sudden, sharp glance made it clear that this, at least, was news to him.

"Into the staff chamber," he ordered in harsh whisper.

Sarah retreated with as much speed and grace as she could manage, leaving whatever rumors her appearance had occasioned to foment in her wake.

* * *

"Now what's this?" Severus asked bluntly, as he pulled the door closed behind him. He waved his wand, and all the portraits hazed over with a grey film that sent their subjects feeling around the edges of their frames in silent irritation; he was taking no chances that their conversation might be repeated as portrait gossip.

Sarah gave a rapid account of what Draco Malfoy had told her.

"Damn," he spat. "A weapon, you say?"

"Do you know anything about it?" Sarah asked, still perplexed.

"Nothing whatsoever. Which means that it does not exist. Nor can I imagine why Potter would come up with such a tale, unless he thought that luring Umbridge into the forest would serve some purpose." Severus was pacing. He sneered, "It would be like him to think he could overpower an experienced witch, once he had her alone."

"But why was he trying to contact Dumbledore?" Sarah's conviction that something had gone badly wrong was still with her.

"Because he is convinced that his godfather is being held prisoner by the Dark Lord." There was something about Severus's expression that suggested he would be just as happy if it were true. It was enough to prompt Sarah to probe further.

"Well, could he be?" she asked, a trace of exasperation in her voice. She'd never so much as heard that Harry Potter had a godfather and hadn't the faintest idea who the man might be.

"No," Severus said, still grimacing. "He could not. I exchanged messages with him not half an hour ago." He shook his head. "If Potter had come to me first, all of this could have been avoided. Instead, the foolish boy made a rather lame attempt to communicate the nature of his fears to me under Umbridge's very nose, where I could do nothing." He looked hard at Sarah. "I assume you still have the Veritaserum in your trunk?"

"Yes. Why?" Although she deduced the answer, almost before the question left her mouth.

"She called me to her office after she caught Potter invading it. She wanted to interrogate him again. And of course she was not pleased when I told her I had no more Veritaserum prepared. The idiotic woman had used the entire bottle the first time." He sniffed.

Sarah drew a sharp breath. If it had really been Veritaserum, Potter might have gone into a catatonic state and never have recovered. "She is trying to kill him!"

"Hardly," Severus said dismissively. "What she doesn't know about Potions could fill several dozen libraries. She is merely stupid, not murderous. And while I don't doubt Potter's life will be made unpleasant for a while, particularly when she learns he's been lying to her, being kept out of trouble for the duration can only be a benefit to him."

Sarah frowned, not convinced. "She's a horrible woman."

"Well, I won't disagree with that." Noting her surprise, Severus went on, with sour weariness, "It seems altogether possible, assuming that Dolores Umbridge continues as headmistress next year, I shall be dismissed from my position. As I told you, she wasn't very pleased with me. She made a particular point of bringing up my probation."

In front of Potter. And--she realized--in front of Draco.

"What would happen then?" Sarah asked anxiously. The Dark Lord had warned them all, already, not to jeopardize his chief spy's position. But if Draco told his father that Snape had risked being discharged in order to protect Potter from Umbridge...assuming the boy had the intelligence to read the situation that way...and even if he didn't, the fact that Snape had contributed to his own sacking...no, that was not good at all.

"I will think of something," Severus snapped. "Without Dumbledore here, there is less information of value for me to carry. I am certain I can convince the Dark Lord that my position at Hogwarts is no longer essential. And you needn't fear that I will leave you without support." He sent a sneering glance at Sarah.

"I never asked..." she burst out, then stopped. How had this become a renewal of their own argument? She had not been thinking of the situation between them when she went looking for Severus--he was simply the only person remaining at Hogwarts who might know what to do.

"It was not necessary for you to ask." There was more than a little bitterness in his voice. Even a hint of pain. Which was, perhaps, the saving grace of his words.

He had never asked her for so much as a Knut, she realized. He had, in fact, provided for her out of his meager savings since Easter, without complaint. It was her own guilt at having nothing to contribute that had driven her to insist that Franklin Nott give her money. No matter how she had tried to fool herself into believing she could make a life for herself and her child with her potion-making skills, the truth was that her entanglement in the Dark Lord's web--not even to mention Bellatrix Lestrange's plans--limited her options severely. The idea that Severus would support her, possibly even try to protect her, regardless of their estrangement, was like finding a handhold on a cliff, a dangling rope at the bottom of a well.

"I said before that I was wrong." She glanced away, unwilling to see his expression take on smugness. "It was just so horrible to think that...that you cared as little for me as...as that."

"I told you before--if that had been all I wanted, I could have had my revenge on the manipulative, eager little chits in my House a dozen times over."

It was, of course, true. She should have realized that before....

He went on sharply, "You realize, I hope, that this is not an appropriate place to discuss the situation between us. It is, however," he added, as she looked up in annoyance at being put off once more, "necessary that we do so. Will my quarters suffice? Or do I need to find a location more...acceptable to you?"

She answered his sneer by pulling out her ring on its chain. It had been a kind of self-imposed penance, continuing to wear it, feeling its weight between her breasts as a punishment for her foolish choices. But now, with a cold lump in her throat, she slipped it onto her finger and waited, looking at him expectantly.

"I can't afford to disappear from this room," he said, his voice harder than his eyes. "There will be students waiting to see me outside. I will come as soon as possible."

Sarah nodded a fraction. Then she turned the ring. One. Two. Three....

* * *

She was so tired, it was tempting to just lie there on the bed, even go to sleep. It was also tempting, she discovered as she looked at the familiar surroundings, to slip off her clothes and slip under the covers and pretend they'd never quarreled at all. At first she'd been too angry to care, but now...it had been so long. Reading novels was no help whatsoever. And there wasn't enough privacy in the hospital wing for her to dare to try out some other method of relief.

But her damnable pride wouldn't let her sink that far: revealing such obvious desperation. He was more than likely to sneer at her and say something vicious. She didn't want to think about how he might have been relieving his own desires in the meanwhile.

So she paced the floor. Do I really want a reconciliation? she thought scornfully. Or just a quick bang?

No, she'd missed him in more than her bed. She'd missed him at her elbow as she made potions. She'd missed the idea that she had a family of her own choosing. The idea that she mattered to someone. She wanted to forgive him now, although she still wasn't sure how to convince herself of that entirely.

And was there even the possibility of a reconciliation? Or had his own pride suffered too much damage for that? Was it not more likely that he wanted to discuss the terms of their estrangement?

She startled when the doorway into his workroom appeared in the solid wall and he came through it.

"We have much to discuss, Sarah. Sit down."

Sarah glanced at the little table by the fireside. It suggested negotiations, contracts, signatures and fare-you-well. She sat, quite deliberately, on the edge of the bed, folded her hands in what little remained of her lap, and looked up at him with greater calmness than she felt.

His eyes betrayed his consternation. "What are you playing at?" he snapped. "I won't tolerate acting and deceit from you, not now!"

Chagrined, Sarah breathed out--half-sigh, half-sob--and let her countenance show what it would. "I'm not trying to deceive you!"

Still studying her suspiciously, he began what was clearly a prepared speech. "You will not be able to remain at Hogwarts after the end of next week. As distressing to you as the fact may be, the safest place for you is Knockturn Alley. There is," he added, quietly and with some obvious distaste, "the refuge I mentioned to you earlier, at Easter. But Miriam would not be able to come to you there."

Sarah had already come to this conclusion herself. "I'll go to your flat."

Her agreement did not appear to improve his temper. "A flat with me in it?" he asked snidely. "Although I could, theoretically, strengthen the wards for you and remain here at Hogwarts for the summer." If he wasn't sacked.

"It is your flat," she pointed out coldly. And winced. She had not meant it quite that way.

"I will not tolerate quarreling with you all summer, Sarah!"

"I don't want to quarrel. I..." She bit her lip. "I didn't want to quarrel then. But you left me there to be tormented and threatened with rape and..." her voice broke.

"I had no choice!"

"I know that! But I was terrified. And that made it easier to believe that they might be right. And they were right, weren't they? In part, at least."

"I told you--" he said heatedly.

"I know! And I believe you--that that wasn't all there was to it. I want to forgive you, damn it! I want to. It's just that...it's hard to think of it even being a part of what you thought. It's just so...so sordid."

"Sordid, Sarah?" His face shifted, as it always had so easily, between anger and sarcasm. "Is there any part of our relationship that has not been sordid? Did you not think it sordid to come down to the dungeon that night?"

It was probably fair enough that the taint she had tried to throw over his actions could spread out to include her own, but it was not a pleasant thing to feel seeping it into her, reviving her guilt like some noxious plant feeding anew on corruption. She looked away, whispering, "I didn't think of it like that." Such a perfect opportunity she was giving him to accuse her again of stupidity! Louder, she added bitterly, "Maybe I should have."

"Undoubtedly. But you did not. And now we are in the situation which resulted."

She swung her head back around. "You are as responsible for your choices as I am for mine!"

"Don't presume lecture me on my responsibilities, Sarah! I am perfectly aware of them." He grimaced, looking anywhere but at her.

"Is that all I am to you now?" she asked bitterly. "A responsibility?"

"And what am I to you?" he returned, fixing her with an equally bitter gaze. "I shall achieve my ambitions--I have never required the power of your name for that, so don't flatter yourself. But you are mine, Sarah." There was a fierceness in his eyes, as he stepped nearer to her, and the threat of physical possession was almost palpable. "I could force you to accept that. Custom, law and magic are on my side. But..." he drew a bitter breath. "I cannot value what should be--what has been--freely given, if it now must be taken."

Sarah's heart was pounding. A few minutes ago, she had wanted to be his in the most intimate sense. But she knew that he was not referring to that...or not only to that. Even had she not grown up seeing it firsthand, she would have learned in the past six months what it meant to be the wife of such a man: to be...something more than a possession, yes, but a possession, too, all the same. The last three weeks had been a taste of freedom, although she had not recognized it as such until this moment.

But his intent gaze affirmed his last words: a genuine--if resentful--unwillingness to force those invisible chains back on her soul.

Her pride wanted at least a parting shot. "You didn't give me any choice about marrying you."

His eyes flashed. "Do you regret it now?"

She had every reason to.

"No," she said. "I don't."

A life without Severus Snape--the life she had once envisioned: an ordinary apprenticeship, an ordinary job, an ordinary (pleasant young) husband--despite its apparent offer of happiness, seemed...all wrong. Which made no sense. Certainly life with him promised very little of any obvious happiness. But it was what she wanted, right or wrong, regrets or no regrets. And his damnable motives...okay, they hurt. But she had no choice but to put up with that, if she wanted the rest. There was only so much further away she could push him, she sensed uneasily, before he would refuse to come back.

Even now, he seemed unwilling to believe what he had heard.

"No regrets?" he asked, with brutal sarcasm.

"I didn't say that," she snapped back. "I said I didn't regret marrying you."

He opened his mouth, as if poised to accuse her of some execrable motive of her own for marrying him, but either he could not find one or else he thought better of it. "If we are to remain together," he said, "you are not to say another word about my motives. Ever."

His motives for seducing her? Or for marrying her? Or--more likely--his motives for anything at all. Unquestioning acquiescence--damn it, he still wanted to control her! But what else could she expect? "I will never say another word about your reasons for...for our relationship. Ever."

He grimaced slightly, as if he had not won all he intended. He turned, as if to begin pacing again. "So, you will live in my flat for the summer. After that...."

"I won't go to Bella," Sarah broke in. "Can't we...can't we leave? Leave Britain, I mean?"

He looked at her sharply, his distress and displeasure ill-concealed. "If you wish to leave, that can be arranged, although your flight would be very difficult to explain to the Dark Lord at this point. Perhaps we could feign your death--even place the blame on Bellatrix, if that can be managed."

"I want you to come with me." She brought her hands together almost unconsciously in a gesture of pleading.

"No." His eyes turned even harder, glittering like obsidian. "I have duties here, and a role no one else is capable of filling. I will not leave Britain until this matter is finished."

"Then I won't leave either," Sarah averred. "But...what do we do with...with Severian?"

Severus's taut expression softened into mere worry, and his eyes strayed downward to her invisibly burgeoning abdomen. "He is well?"

Sarah could tell, from the way he said it, how difficult that question had been to hold back.

Recently, truth to tell, she had been trying hard to tune out those subtle movements most of the time, not wanting the constant reminder of the difficulties posed by Severian's existence. But it was impossible--especially when he seemed to be turning somersaults in her womb--never to take notice.

"Yes," she whispered. The sound of his parents' voices speaking together seemed to have woken him up, and he had been kicking tentatively for several minutes. But for the moment he was quiet again. Did he sense the danger they were all in? Sarah tried to smile reassuringly, but a smile would not come, and her hands went of their own volition to cradle her son protectively. "Is there any way to hide him from the Dark Lord? Now that other Death Eaters know?"

There was agony in the answer. "I don't know. I still believe that the knowledge of our marriage, certainly the knowledge of our child's existence, would force the Dark Lord to accept me as your mentor permanently, despite Bellatrix's machinations. But what he will choose to do with that information is...some of the possibilities are...unthinkable. He still does not trust me entirely. At the very least, Severian will be a hostage--in intention, if not in physical fact--and the Dark Lord will insist on knowing his whereabouts at all times."

Sarah had known all this before, but now it seemed to lock tight iron bands around her heart. "If that happens, I want to keep him with me. I can stay in Knockturn Alley--"

"We've discussed this before," Severus interrupted, frowning more deeply.

"Umbridge told me that she wouldn't allow me to take the Hogwarts apprenticeship. I defied her: I quit the Inquisitorial Squad."

"You what?"

"I couldn't bear it any longer. Not with Professor McGonagall lying there dying because of that woman."

"Have you learned nothing?!" It hadn't been clear how much he had calmed down until he became outraged again. "You can't afford such sentimental nonsense! If the Dark Lord--"

"Dolores Umbridge is not the Dark Lord!" Sarah interrupted in returned. "You defied her yourself!"

"Not so openly! If she's reporting to the Dark Lord--"

The realization--mainly that she had not considered that before--chilled her, but she said, "I thought we had decided that was unlikely?"

"Unlikely but not impossible. You must assume that anyone could be a spy. Did you reject the woman for the fool she is, or did you express loyalty to McGonagall?"

Sarah shut her eyes, her heart dropping precipitously. "Both. But only as my Head of House," she added in haste. "I'm not that stupid."

"It was a mistake we can't afford!" Severus was pacing again.

"I won't repeat it," she said shakily.

"You're very fortunate that it is unlikely she's more than just the Ministry's spy." Slightly calmer, he went on, "Umbridge's opinion about your apprenticeship will matter very little if the Dark Lord is determined you should have it. Pressure will be exerted--"

"Sufficient pressure to keep her from sacking you?" Sarah asked. "I thought you said it was no longer so important you remain at Hogwarts?"

"The alternative is likely to be waiting full time upon the Dark Lord. Making potions to suit his purposes, while I train you to do the same. Are you prepared to face that?"

It was a terrible thing to imagine--being so often in that monster's presence, and knowing that almost every potion one made would be used to cause harm to the innocent. From the expression on his face, Severus liked the idea as little as she did. And yet....

"If that's what it takes to keep Severian with me."

"You cannot afford such thinking, Sarah! If you reveal how much you care for the child, you only hand the Dark Lord another reason to harm him! Do you suppose that I want him to believe for a moment that you mean anything more to me than the carnal pleasure of having a beautiful young woman in my bed?" His lips twitched, and she could feel his eyes appraising her. It was, contrary to what he might have intended, a pleasant sensation. "The child he may understand as the others understand it. But even that is too much...too much of value to me for him not to hold it as a threat over my head." His frown was grave. "If there is any way to avoid revealing our child's existence, we must take it. And that may very well mean a separation from him, brief or long."

Sarah looked away, trying to hide her own distress. But suddenly Severus stepped toward her and forced her chin up to face him again with one strong hand.

"You must accept my judgment in this." His expression was firm, his eyes demanding.

Tears started in her eyes. She blinked them back, only to find them laced through her voice. "There was never any way for me to have both of you, was there?"

"No, there was not." The answer was impatient, not sympathetic, and he let her go. "You've known from the very beginning that any apprenticeship you took would necessitate a separation. Why does this upset you now?"

There were no words to explain to him the difference between the mere idea of a child and reality of one living and moving, even now, inside her. "I accept it," she said finally. "I just don't like it."

He seemed poised to respond with some snarky remark about not having what they liked--it was distressingly amusing that she could predict him so well--but instead, he slipped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her to him awkwardly: her face was only at the level of his stomach. In remedy, he went to his knees, just as she reached put her own arms around him.

Had she ever missed anything so keenly as his embrace? The pain of missing it was like a knife that could only cut her when it was back in her hands. Desperate to hold him as close as possible, she splayed her knees...

Her invisible stomach proved to be almost as much of a barrier.

His hands slid from her back to her stomach, studying the shape. His dark eyes were wide, his expression wavering between wonder and a frown.

Sarah drew her own hands back and fumbled at the illusion belt, unfastening it and pulling it off.

"It's only been three weeks," Severus said in a stunned whisper.

"I know." An upsetting thought occurred to her. "Do you not want to..."

His answer was a kiss, an even sharper pleasure than his embrace.

Everything after that, for a time, was an awkward scuffle. It ended with them both on the bed, partly unclothed, frantically aroused, and glaring resentfully at the bump that signified the child they had made together, and who now seemed determined to prevent his parents from engaging in similar activities. Obviously the situation required more creativity than they were accustomed to applying.

They hovered on the edge of another squabble, trying to sort it out.

The ultimate solution threatened to be vaguely degrading, but Sarah was beyond caring very much. It was also, she eventually decided, trying not to eat the pillow she had pulled to her chest for support, decidedly naughty. Which might have contributed to the fact that it was over much too quickly, with Severus muttering curses and apologies with what little breath he had left.

"That good?" she giggled.
"You've no idea."

"I have some. I'd like more."

"It'll only be a minute, I'm sure. You don't know how I've missed you."