The Moon Has Spoken

Chapter 13


Two for Tragedy

Their connection had broken.


Fiddler found herself back on the library, sprawled on the armchair, with Severus on his knees, gripping her hand tightly. He was breathing heavily, and he had his face covered by his hair, bent down so as not to meet her gaze.

Slowly, Severus released her hand and got to his feet erratically, trying unsuccessfully to walk away.

“Severus…”, Fiddler began, but she snapped her mouth shut. What was there to be said?

He didn’t turn around. Fiddler desperately wanted to comfort him, to take away his pain, his hate, but he seemed so unattainable and she was at a loss of words. So much ha… Co… Could anyone blame him, though?

Fiddler certainly couldn’t.

She felt silent tears run doer cer cheeks, and, acting on impulse, she got off her chair and did the first thing that came to mind.

Close her arms around him.

She felt him jerk violently and could read the mauve rage of his thoughts, could felt him tearing between pushing her away or returning her embrace. He did the second thing, turning to face her, crushing her to him fiercely, fighting the sobs that struggled to escape.

“They say I hate him because of his dunce of a father”, she heard his ragged voice. “Because of a moronic school grudge. As if— As if I would lower myself to—”

He couldn’t continue, but Fiddler nodded, compassionately. She’d never truly believed the kids’ theory, and her instincts had been right.
With Severus Snape, there was always more to it than the eye met.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, comfortingly, wondering how on Earth had he managed to keep his sanity as he buried his only son whilst listening to the toasts for the Boy Who Lived. She’d hated the blasted child all right as well. As she recalled, she’d hated people for far less than that.

She wiped away her burning tears.

“I— warned… Dumbledore—”, he was saying. “I had been presenting him with information of our activities for over a year… Ever since… Ever since I first found out… Found Wynn… hurting— Hurting the baby. It was not for the Potters’ sake… Although I am sure the magical binding between Potter senior and me was still strong. After all”, he spat bitterly, “I owed him my life. But it was not for him.
»It was for the sake of my son…”, he sighed, and his voice trembled ever so slightly, “for I knew that, if something went wrong, she’d sacrifice him without giving it a thought…”

His arms tightened around her to the point to be almost unbearable.

Almost.

“And Dumbledore… He did everything within his reach to ensure the Potters’ safety… But James, always the arrogant… had to ruin everything alongside with Black… Switching Keepers at the last minute… When Dumbledore himself had vowed to be their Keeper, for he knew what was at risk...
»We had it all planned, so the Dark Lord would not hurt James’ offspring, hence, the prophecy would not be fulfilled… And my son would not have died…
»But the Marauders always thought themselves invulnerable, they were too good for the world. Let the others worry about their safety, to sacrifice themselves for James and his jolly cronies to do what they willed… ”

He bent his head and sighed into her hair.

“There’s always a reason for rules and limits…”, he murmured. “And it unnerves me when they’re foolishly broken, recklessly challenged for the sake of Bravery…”, he spat it as a disgusting swearing word. “Gryffindor bravery… And for seven years I had to endure the sight of him being rewarded for his sheer stupidity, applauded and cheered for so called deeds he accomplished by ignoring regulations and boundaries set to protect him… And I cannot help to wish somehow things had been the other way around… That it was my son I could see alive instead of him… I cannot help to wonder why no one but myself tried to save this other child, as innocent and worthy as the cursed Boy-Who-Lived… And caused the death of my own… But, of course, what was the life of the son of a Slytherin spy against James Potter’s Gryffindor jewel?”

Fiddler let out an anguished cry against his shoulder. What was, indeed? She hugged him strongly, weeping helplessly, as she rocked him in her embrace. Severus drew back a little to look at her, astounded. Was she crying?

“I am sorry…”, she murmured between her sobs. “Oh, Severus, I am so sorry…”, and she tightened her arms around him even more, so as to transmit him her empathy, her comfort, trying to let him know that it wasn’t pity, but a deep sense of comprehension, because, oddly enough, Fiddler felt as if it had been her own child slaughtered…

Yes, she was crying, suffering tears drenching his shirt, and Severus felt his own long-denied pain pouring out of her, and something deep within him broke lose at the sight of her tearful eyes, her swollen and reddened face, at the knowledge that she understood his anguish completely…

At the feel of her in his arms.

And, of their own volition, his hands came up to tangle in her hair, working it loose from the rubberband, gliding his fingers through its radiant softness. Fiddler didn’t register it at first, so Severus grew more confident and drew her face to his, and started kissing her, moving his lipom hom her mouth to her jawline and back again, groaning deep in his throat.
Fiddler’s eyes widened at the feel of the first kiss of her entire life.
It was delightful, despite the circumstances, the soft strokes of his lips and tongue in her mouth, and she found herself returning the kiss, shyly at first, then with a desperation that mirrored his own, holding close to one another, as if them both were trying to feel every inch of their bodies. Their hands came up at the same time to tangle in each other’s hair, and then, Fiddler’s cynical, paranoid mind suddenly awoke and yelled:

Fiddler Greene! What THE HELL do you think you’re doing?

I am kissing a man. That’s right, you heard right, Fiddler Greene, the hag, the Ugly Duckling, is kissing a man. And enjoying it tremendously. So back off.

Oh, so you’re kissing a man! Congratulations, by the way. Just a question, though. Have you stopped to consider why the hell is he kissing you?

Fiddler’s heart sunk more than just a little.

I thought as much. Come on, Fiddler, did you really think it was you? It’s Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome! A little delayed, I grant you, but the fact remains. He’d kiss a broom in a dress given the chance... Stop being such a twit.

Fiddler’s hands fell to her sides limply. Her lips stopped moving under Severus’ mouth.

“What is wrong…?”, he asked against her lips.

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

His hands were wandering over her body, caressing her back, fingers sliding softly along her collarbones, grasping her shoulders longingly. He couldn’t think clearly, all that mattered was the woman before him and his essential desire. He grinded his hips against her voraciously, and Fiddler reacted, finally.
She stepped backwards, pushing him away, and Severus blinked in an effort to clear his blurred vision and his very lustful mind.

“Stop it”, she said, and somehow she managed to make it sound stern and sad at the same time.

Her eyes looked too much like Wynn’s at her worst, and no matter how hard he tried to explain it later, the truth was it all lost coherence, and Severus was looking at Wynn, then at Fiddler, and they both mingled in one, swirled around him, taunting him, teasing him, challenging him…
He stepped towards her, grabbing her by her shoulders, and crushing his lips to her own. He wasn’t thinking anymore, his instincts had taken over. He pressed her against him, kissing her ravenously, walking awkwardly in search of a comfortable location, and Fiddler soon returned his kisses, despite herself, breathing heavily, as her mind told her to stop it, to fight him, to open her eyes and realise it wasn’t her he wanted, but a distorted image of his fogged brain, but it was of no use, because she did want him, and this was no time for questioning.
She walked backwards under his lead, and suddenly her ankle bent and she fell to the floor, dragging him with her. Severus moaned as he landed on top of Fiddler, rubbing himself against her thirstily, prying her thighs open as he fumbled with the fly of his trousers. She made no move to help him undress her, but she didn’t resist either, as an odd mixture of languor and tension crept over her. Her body was signaling her desire very clearly to him, she was sure of that, and she wanted to kiss him, to stroke him, but he was holding both her hands above her head, almost as if he was restraining her, and that uneased her. She moved her head to kiss his neck but he jerked away as he spread heees ees with his free hand, once rid of the scrub’s bottom and the underwear she wore. He groaned as he slid bet her her legs, and snly,nly, Fiddler’s world was nothing but searing pain and the sensation of being split open, as she felt him impaling her mercilessly.
Severus wasn’t gentle. He slammed into her forcefully, breathing raggedly, red in the face from his exertions, as various cries struggled to fall from his mouth.

“Wynn… Wynn…”, was what came out at last, and Fiddler’s bewildered gaze fixed on Severus’ blank eyes, clamping her legs together out of instinct, to push him out of her.

Wynn. He’s thinking of Wynn.

Well, of course he is!, her cynical mind told her. Did you really think he wanted the Duckling when he had the Swan?

Fiddler swallowed her tears and moved her head aside. She wanted him, but not like this. Not if he had to picture someone else in his head.

“Get the hell off me”, she growled, and quite suddenly, Severus’ eyes lost their vacuity, and he focused them on her, apparently realising for the first time wherewas was and what he was doing.

He felt confusion and embarrassement threatening to overwhelm him, and he quickly eased out of her, sitting on his heels, looking at her with a rather bemused expression. Fiddler struggled to sat up, hugging her bare legs nst nst her chest, glaring at him through tearful eyes. She cast for something to say but she couldn’t find the words. She felt torn apart, but damned be her if she’d let him know that.

“Go away”, she hissed. “Go away—”, she couldn’t continue, trying to swallow back her tears, her mind spinning around a swirl of blue and mauve emotions, trying to get a grip, and failing…

Dammit, Fiddler, don’t you DO that!

He wants her! He hated her, he killed her and yet he still wants her!

What do you care? It’s his own twisted mind… Oh, I see it, now! Is it because he only used you, then? Are you turning into a gurgling bag because it is not you he wants? Come on, Fiddler, you should be used to that by now.

Shut up, I don’t need you trying to destroy me as well.

But her wicked mind cackled peevishly and told her:

Ooooh, but Fiddler, that’s what I’m here for…

She could take it no longer. Without waiting to see if he left or not, she grabbed her scrub’s om, om, slipped into it hastily and left the room without another word.

Oh, cower away in your own house, you twit. That will make you look good.

I told you to shut up.

I won’t. You should listen to me more often, you know I awaysways right!

Again, that horrid laughter in her own mind and Fiddler, as she made her way to her rooms defeatedly, wondered how had she managed to survive so long when her own mind hated her that much.

But she was saved the trouble of answering as she entered her rooms and froze in the doorwaye wie window was open, the courtains swaying gently in the wind, Triskelion looking at her intently from his spot on her bed, as the CD player in her bedside table came to life of its own accord, filling the room with the incredibly loud echoes of a song from a CD Fiddler remembered clearly putting away over three days now.

Sleep, Eden, sleep,
My fallen son,
Slumber in peace,
Cease the pain,
Life’s just in vain,
For us to gain,
Nothing but all the same…

She covered her mouth with her hands, eyes almost out of her orbits with shock. Triskelion raised his ears and wriggled his tail, as if he understood what she was feeling. She gave a hesitant step forward, shaking all over.

No healing hand,
For your disease,
Drinking scorn like water,
Cascading with my tears…

Beneath the candle bed,
Two saddened angels, in Heaven, in Death…

A tear slid slowly down her cheek, as she struggled to reach her bed, not really succeeding. Her heart was racing, and her skin broke in goosebumps at both the song and the touch of the cold wind.

Now let us lie,
Sad we lived, sad we died,
Even in your pride, I never blamed you.

A mother’s love, is a sacrifice,
Together sleeping, keeping it all…

She wept quietly. What was the song’s name? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember, but whoever had done that, had a thespian frame of mind indeed. She was pained, she was moved, she was scared to death.

No sympathy, no eternity,
One light for each undeserved tear…
Beneath the candle bed,
Two souls with everything yet to be said She She fell to her knees, helplessly, sobbing uncontrollably as the song’s name finally registered.


Two for Tragedy.


And then the music suddenly stopped, as the window snapped shut, tearing down the courtain in the process. Triskelion barked loudly, and sparks came out of the CD player, which jerked as if invisible hands were shaking it, until it fell to the floor with a loud crash. Still sobbing, Fiddler crawled hey toy towards it and took the CD out of it.
It was intact.

Two for Tragedy.

Indeed.






A/N.

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!


Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don’t recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!