A Gift

I know if a few ways I have gone away from the Original characters on this but you have to think of it this way. They are away from everyone else where the walls can finally slip alittle. We see a bit more why Severus is a bitter person in this. As if the maruaders weren\'t enough.....


The next morning she wakes early and heads down to the barn. She doesn\'t see him so she steps into the stall and starts to brush Dameon out. \"Well, Dameon, it was nice riding you. I guess I\'ll not be able to leave the house now.\" She leans into his neck, closing her eyes against the soft hair of his mane. \"Only a few days here and I miss you already.\"
Severus steps up to the door, laying the new saddle onto it and watching her closely. \"As touching as this may look, he is not getting groomed. If you still wish to ride, I suggest you get busy.\"
She stares wide eyed at him. \"But..\"
He lays a black riding habit across the saddle, complete with hat and veil. \"Never assume anything around me, Miss Granger. It will only lead to trouble.\" He steps into the stall and takes the brush from her. \"I believe those to be about your size. You will wear it when you are outside.\" He waves to the tackroom. \"You may change in the tackroom.\"
She takes the clothes and quickly walks to the tackroom. Closing the door and making sure there is no way for him to see inside, she slowly holds up the outfit. \'Whos\' was this? It looks a bit too small to be Sarah\'s.\' She thinks to herself. She hesitantly puts the outfit on, unaware of the way the tightness of the bodice accentuates her curves. She fusses with the skirts, unsure if she has them fastened right. She gathers the hem onto her arm, lifting it so it will not drag the ground as she walks, and opens the door again looking completely different.

Finishing saddling and bridling Dameon, he looksup at the sound of the door. His body suddenly becomes very still, the only reaction is the widening of his pupils as she steps out of the tackroom and walks back towards him. Her hair cascades down her back, the high necked collar and tight bodice making her look like a very beautiful victorian doll.
She suddenly feels very uncomfortable as he just stare at her. Trying to break the silence, she holds up the hat. \"How is this to stay on? It seems too small for my head.\"
He blinks at her, finally coming back to his senses. \"Illiya will help you with it tomorrow morning.\" He walks to her, taking the hat from her and pulling her hair back. He twists it into a bun, leaning close as he settles and pins the hat into place. \" You will have to wear the veil down at all times so no one can see your face.\" Just as Sabine did when she was here, He does not add.
\"Very well.\" She sighs softly, looking up at him through hooded eyes as he gently pulls the veil down over her face. Something in the way he looks at her stops her from making a rude comment. For once, he seems as if there is only one wall up around him instead of several.
She lets him lead her out into the paddock as if she wear a true Lady and help her mount. He looks away as she adjusts her skirts, surprised at this show of gentlemanly behavior. Satisfied that nothing is showing, she leans over and gently touches his shoulder. He looks back, his eyes traveling over her once before asking her to walk along the rail.
Their lesson goes smoothly and she listens to him intently as he takes her through several trotting exercises. When he finally calls a halt, she\'s exhausted. He walks over and takes Dameon\'s bridle in hand. Without looking at her, he pats the stallion\'s neck and whispers. \"Sabine never stayed after a lesson. She would always walk hautily back to the cottage and expect me to take care of the horses like a servent. From this moment til you leave, you will do the same.\"
She frowns down at him, suddenly angry with the way she must treat him. \"But..\"
\"No \'but\'s Miss Granger! You will do as told or fend for yourself!\" He growls as he gives her an arm so she can dismount.
\"Yes, sir.\" She whispers, gripping his arm and sliding down the stallion\'s side, careful to not let her skirts ride up. She immediately turns her back on him and strides back towards the cottage.
He watches her, his face betraying nothing of the emotions flowing inside him as she walks to the front door and disappears inside. Finally looking away, he gently strokes the stallion\'s nose as they walk back towards the stall. Dameon blows gently in his hair, causing a small smile to touch his lips. \"I know. Women can be such frustrating creatures. Especially when they are as beautiful as that one and just as willful.\"

Hermione slams the door closed, tossing her hat onto the couch. Sarah looks up from her contemplation of a vase full of flowers. \"Something wrong dear?\"
Hermione strips off the gloves on her hands and tosses them onto her hat. \"How can he expect me to treat him like a...a servant!\" She stutters. \"He is my professor and needs much more respect than that!\"
Sarah rises from the chair she was sitting in and smiles sadly. \"That is something the two of you will have to discuss.\" She looks out the window. \"And it seems you will be doing it soon enough. He is coming now.\" She turns and glides up the stairs.
\"But....!\" Hermione stares off after her as the door behind her opens.
\"You seem to be fond of that word of late, Miss Granger.\" He closes the door behind him and stalks towards the kitchen.
She follows close behind. \"I demand to know who Sabine is and why I must act like her!\"
\"Sit!\" He growls out, pulling a chair from the table. He waits til she sits down, staring wide eyed at him, before relaxing a bit and continuing. \"Listen and listen well as I will only tell you this once.\" His eyes bore into hers. \"And if this is repeated to anyone outside of this cottage, I will be sure to make your life worse than hell.\"
She nods slightly, never taking her eyes frm him. \"I understand.\"
He turns away from her, picking up a knife and slowly cutting up carrots for lunch. \"Among pure blood wizarding families, it is still common practice to have a son or daughter betrothed. Having very strong personal ties to the Savonas family, my father decided to betroth me to their first born daughter. The contract was written up, and with each pregnancy, my father would hope for the daughter promised to him. Instead they have strong young boys, born one after another. By the time I was out of Hogwarts, I was sure my father would null the contract and allow me to find a wife of my own.\" The knife stills and his head lowers a bit. \"I was wrong.\"
She frowns. \"But that means you would be older than your wife by several years.\"
He places the carrots on a plate and begins to slice ham for sandwiches. \"In truth, the wizarding world turns a blind eye to age. I, however, had other plans at the time and would not turn a blind eye. I wanted nothing of marriage or children.\" He turns and brings the food to the table, settling down in a chair across from her. \"And then Sabine was born. I was a Death Eater and had no time for child brides.\"
\"How old were you?\" She picks up a few carrots and nibbles at them.
\"23.\" He watches her closely. \"If Sabine was still alive, she would only be a few months older than you are right now.\"
She nearly chokes on her carrot. One hand over her mouth to keep from spitting it out, she stares back in shock. He conjures tea and slowly sips it. \"I did not meet her until 4 yrs ago. I was, of course, given photos of her and correspondances from the family but I had never truly met her. America was a bit to far to travel for me at the time. I did not imagine that anyone could make the Malfoy family look like country bumpkins until her arrival.\" He nearly smirks at her utter shock. \"Oh yes, she was brought up in the highest of society. Used to having her every whim granted and servants at her beck and call. Needless to say, she did not get that here.\"
Hermione blinks, seeing a different side of a man she thought she already knew. \"So that is why you hate her so.\"
\"I hate her for many reasons, least of all her treatment of me and those around me.\" He sips his tea again, looking towards the small windows over the sink. \"She did not care what she said or who she said it to. She made it quite clear the last time we spent a week together that she had decided she would not come to my bed untouched as the contract stated and solved that problem before she left from America. She even made it abundantly clear she would have her own lovers on the side but would never allow me the same terms.\"
\"What a bitch!\" Hermione snarls, only to stop and look shocked that she had said it aloud. \"Sorry, Professor.\"
The edges of his lips twitch up slightly. \"There is no need, Miss Granger. I am quite aware of her personality faults.\" He sets the cup back on the table, his eyes boring into hers again. \"Which brings us to why you must know of her. The message I recieved was an invitation to a hunt at Malfoy Manor. It is in celebration of my upcoming marriage to Sabine. I would not have gotten it had someone not known there was another person here. Lucius did not know when she would be arriving for her yearly visit so he could not have known beforehand. That means we are being watched.\"
She frowns. \"But you said she is dead.\"
\"That is correct. Apparently a jealous lover Avada\'d her after finding her in bed with another man.\" He lifts a brow. \"Something the family would cover up quickly so there would be no rumors.\"
\"So they believe I am her, here for the usual visit?\" She shakes her head. \"But why the party? Wouldn\'t your marriage be years away still?\"
\"The contract states we will be wed the moment the youngest of the two is of age.\" He sighs softly. \"She would reach 18, which is majority where she lives, in 3 months.\"
Her eyes widen more. \"Oh!\"
He stands, pushing his chair into the table. \"Which leaves you with a choice. Go along with the charade and be Sabine while not in the cottage or we will have to find somewhere else for you to go.\" He turns his back on her, walking quickly out of the kitchen and leaving her to this new situation.