The Man Who Came In From The Cold

JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. If you are looking for strict Canon or even a slight deviation from Canon you won’t find it here.

Summary: The war has carried on well past Harry Potter’s 7th Year. Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.


The Man Who Came In from the Cold


Chapter 013: Illusions

Christiane was awakened by crunching and dragging noises from outside. She got up and went over to the bank of windows in her bedroom after glancing at her alarm clock. Once again, Ravenscroft was coming home later than she was. Except this time it was different. Esmé was with him and they had her suitcases and a large tote bag. It was also too early to have caught a bus. They must have hitched a ride. But it looked like Esmé was spending the rest of her time in Jersey with him, rather than at the lodgings that Le Café Rouge was paying for.

‘What the hell…?’ she sputtered as she looked at them in disbelief.

Christiane strained to hear their conversation, but it was impossible. She watched as Ravenscroft opened his front door and took Esmé’s things inside. He returned for her sister and it seemed as though Esmé was about to say something, but Ravenscroft silenced her with a kiss. Esmé put her arms around him and they stood for a moment in a tight embrace. They looked tired, but content. Ravenscroft leaned down and touched her face – was he wiping something from it? He took Esmé by the hand and led her into the house.

‘It’s one o’clock in the morning…’ Christiane sighed irritably.

‘All the more reason for you to come back to bed,’ D’Arcy muttered ‘You’ll catch your death…’

‘Ravenscroft’s finally come home…’

‘Rather a bit quick this time for him, don’t you think? He and your sister must have finally come to their senses…’

‘For your information, Esmé’s come with him – and with all her things. No more staying in town for her I guess since the band doesn’t require her services any more.’

‘Hmmph; even Michel had to wait (what was it?) – four months before she would even let him kiss her…’

‘Please – I don’t want us to argue again. Just leave them alone and try to be civilised,’ Christiane snapped as she crawled back into bed.

‘I don’t want to argue either, Chris; really I don’t…’ D’Arcy said quickly.

Christiane had turned her back to him – always a sign that she was very upset.

‘You say that,’ he continued gently as he spooned into her, ‘But you don’t approve any more than I do, not really.’

‘Nothing good will ever come of it!” Chris said hoarsely.

‘Finally! No; it won’t. I’m not going to be hateful towards them, but I am not going encourage it either. And neither should you! You need to make your sister see sense for a change!’

‘She won’t listen to me. I have tried to talk to her but she just won’t hear it and I don’t blame her. Here I am in bed with another woman’s husband so who am I to talk? You haven’t spent one night at home recently…’

‘And you’re complaining? Most women in your situation would be climbing the walls if their lover stayed away.

‘Your “dear wife” has working overtime to get into your good graces all of a sudden. I’ve heard it for myself, Gill. She doesn’t want you; but she doesn’t want anyone else to get near you either.’

‘Her little tricks are coming to an end. I have it on good authority that her fortunes are about to change considerably.’

‘Oh?’

‘Never you mind. You will see for yourself at the Christmas party before we leave.’

‘Before we…? Gill what’s going on?’ Christiane asked as she turned to face him.

‘The present Mrs. D’Arcy is about to get what she deserves; though on my terms and not hers.’

‘I don’t like the sound of this, Gill. This isn’t like you.’

‘It wasn’t like me until I realised what a sham my marriage is. Lizzie has backed me into a wall and I have no choice but to push back. I want this farce to end – and it will come Wednesday night.’

Christiane looked worried and D’Arcy gave her a deep kiss.

‘We will finally have our Christmas together, you and I. I’m coming home with you, Chris…’

D’Arcy forgot about how tired he really was as he rolled on top of the woman he really loved and began to make love to her. Chris was everything to him and he would stop at nothing now so that they could be together.

xxxOOOxxx

Snape and Esmé didn’t speak to each other until they were behind closed doors. The young woman tucked herself up comfortably on the old battered sofa in the living space and watched quietly as Snape prepared a fire and then steaming mugs of hot chocolate for them both.

He looked at her face framed in the flickering golden light of the dancing flames of the fire. Esmé clearly had a great deal she was holding back on, but was loyal enough to her sister to not discuss it with him. Had it been one of the staff back in Hogwarts, he would have known more than he cared to by the time they’d reached his front door. But she was clearly worried; and anything that worried her was a concern for him.

‘So – after all this time, this is where they finally end up – how ironic…’ Esmé sighed as she leaned against Snape once he sat down. ‘Well – I hope you like them at least’

The former Potions Master pulled the heavy throw around them that had been on the back of the sofa.

‘I didn’t realise these tapestries were crafted by your hands,’ he said looking up at the largest of the two he’d been given which was hanging over the fireplace.

‘I gave them to Christiane for her place, but she doesn’t like them. I knew they were going to end packed away collecting dust. But I gave them to her anyway – hoping she would change her mind. She doesn’t want to be reminded of what she’s given up.’

‘She says she misses home…’

‘Does she really? In all the years since she’s met him, she’s only been home a few times. And the last time she didn’t last more than a day before she left and came back here. D’Arcy took her away for a night of passion God-knows-where. So take anything she says about home with a grain of salt.’

‘It must have taken you quite a long time; it’s quite intricate,’ he said drawing her close and wrapping his long arms around her.

It was a detailed landscape, depicting the perfect autumnal day in Normandy. It was like a woven painting – and as such deserved to be in a far more complementary environment, he thought to himself. Such elegant things were wasted on him, which was why he had been neither here nor there about it when Christiane hung them. But knowing that it had been Esmé who had crafted them, it made all the difference in the world though he supposed it shouldn’t have.

‘It took me several months of working ten to twelve hours a day; but I didn’t mind. It was a labour of love to a degree and worth every minute of it. Once I had the idea for it and completed the mock-ups, I had to get going and couldn’t stop until it was done. The day came when there were no more final touches, so I knew I could let go.’

‘And you did both for your sister…?

Esmé peered around the room and frowned.

‘My bedroom…’ he said, answering her unspoken question.

‘Ahh – quite fitting. The scene is of one of the most romantic beauty spots back home. Everyone makes such a fuss over the beaches, because of the D-Day landings; but Normandy is so much more than that. Jersey is lovely, but it does not compare to France. And it certainly has nothing on us when it comes to our traditional arts.’

‘Filled with typical Gallic pride, Miss Barthèlèmy,’ Snape said as he began to rub her back.

‘Sebastian. I know how you ended up here; and I think it’s fair to say that life hasn’t been too kind to you. Do you think you can be reasonably happy working on a farm – and for D’Arcy of all people?’

‘It’s an honest living.’

‘Mmm, that it is. I’ve some acreage myself. Now that this singing lark has ended with the boys I can get down to being what they call boring and sorting it out. It’s great what you’ve done for Chris; but this really isn’t…her…as such. The country life really isn’t her.’

‘And what is?’

Esmé smiled ruefully.

‘It certainly isn’t what she thinks it is, or wants to believe…’

‘She has only indicated that the mundane worlds of nine-to-five and sales doesn’t suit her.’

‘Ahh, well that’s true enough. Maman has a lot to answer for; her motto is that you can love a rich man just as easily as a poor one. Of all us children, my sister has always especially taken that to heart.’

‘Your mother makes an interesting and quite valid point,’ Snape said evenly as his black eyes bored into his Esmé’s brown ones.

‘There are plenty of things more important than money. Money helps – don’t get me wrong. But two people together can achieve a lot if both of them want it. Money in and of itself shouldn’t be the criteria for a relationship. Take Mr. Hill, D’Arcy’s valet, for instance. He’s actually high up in the pecking order socially – his family are true Bluebloods. He married for love, not money. And it’s a good match on both sides. He has never regretted “marrying down”, quote unquote and he can tell you himself.’

‘Wealth is a powerful aphrodisiac for many,’ Snape said firmly.

‘For some people – yes it is…’

‘You are so noble such that it would not even tempt you? Where I am from, the family one is born into, one’s background, is everything. Many marriages are little more than finely executed business arrangements. Many of the women of my former acquaintance care only about the wealth and power of a strategic marital alliance.’

‘It’s about time I told you about Michel Rèmy-Chopinard, the man that Elizabeth Bennett D’Arcy should have married,’ Esmé said quietly as she stood.

She walked over to the fireplace and looked up at her tapestry. She’d done this one and the one in Sebastian’s bedroom in the aftermath of a significant trauma – one of the biggest of her life so far. It was her craft that saved her from a permanent breakdown of sorts.

‘I was in a relationship for a few years, with him. He and Guillaume are best friends. They grew up together, went to the same schools, and they are still very close. He’s not unlike D’Arcy in some respects. The background; life of privilege and all that. I didn’t like Michel from the moment I met him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, exactly, but I knew that something wasn’t right. But D’Arcy, Chris and my mother wouldn’t hear a single word said against him at the time. Even now after everything I went through because of him, D’Arcy and my mother still make excuses for Michel.’

Esmé stopped for a moment and took a deep breath.

‘I’m listening,’ Snape said quietly as he held out his hands.

The young woman nodded faintly as she took them. She was shaking like a leaf and had put a bit of space between she and Snape when she sat down, but Snape wasn’t having it. He pulled her into his arms and held her. That said more to Esmé than any amount of words ever could.

‘My mother and Chris were really pushing me to be very… friendly, with him,’ she said quietly. But I saw right through him the more I got to know him. Michel is another one who uses his wealth to influence and buy anything he sets his mind on. He has no heart, no real concept of love – when all was said and done the only person he ever gave a damn about was himself. Oh, he was charming, said all the right things and could get on with anyone. But I was no better than a prostitute to be paid for.

It all came to head when I was having problems with my health, really bad problems. I was scared I might be pregnant – and he didn’t want to know unless I had an abortion. It turned out to be something quite serious, but not once was he there for me. Hehad begun seeing Lizzie D’Arcy again. They hadn’t stopped seeing each other, not really, but it was a lot more serious this time. I found out later that hey were together the whole time I was in hospital.

Michel had his assistant send flowers and expensive gifts that I didn’t give a damn about thinking that would keep me sweet. I gave it all away to other patients, which pissed him off to no end when he found out. D’Arcy has no idea what his best friend and his wife did back then – or what they are still doing. I found out for myself the day I signed myself out of the hospital.

I thought I was going to go home and then go to the pied à terre he has in Paris. Madame D’Arcy doesn’t go to Paris to meet up her imaginary childhood friends for socialising and shopping; she goes to Michel. That was as true then as it is now. Anyway, I got home to the house Michel and I were living in. I walked in and heard them before I saw them with my own two eyes fucking each other’s brains out in our bed. I confronted them both and neither of them batted an eyelash because they knew that no one would ever believe me. I won’t bore you with the finer details what they both said. But I left our so-called relationship with exactly what I brought into it. I never took anything from him, not even when things were really bad financially for me.

I didn’t say anything to anyone except to make it clear that Michel had cheated on me and that he’d been a habitual womaniser. My mother didn’t talk to me for months; she still thinks that I’m the one at fault and that if I had satisfied Michel “the way a woman is supposed to” and tried to live “a more respectable life”, then he would have been faithful.

D’Arcy’s right about my knack for landing on my feet. You live by the sword, you die by the sword I guess; and I had no intention of being the architect of my own destruction, led around by the nose by someone who doesn’t give a damn about me. Thanks to D’Arcy and his best friend I don’t suffer any illusions about anything anymore. All the money in the world wouldn’t influence me to tolerate an arse like Michel or that kind of situation ever again. Chris doesn’t even want to know – I tried to tell her everything, but she doesn’t want to know. She has to keep her fantasies about the perfect Monsieur D’Arcy intact… He’s a man that’s happy to fuck them both and yet claims to love only her… Something else I know – he has slept with his wife and it wasn’t just some accident or a momentary lapse of reason. But I can’t tell my sister that either.’

Esmé was on her back now and turned her head away from Snape, who was looking down at her intensely. He turned it back and then leaned down and gave her a delicate kiss on the forehead.

‘He didn’t deserve you – and you most certainly did not deserve what he did to you,’ he said firmly. ‘And your family – blood is most certainly not thicker than water.’

Snape brushed away Esmé’s tears which had begun to fall uncontrollably.

‘There hasn’t been anyone else since him – nothing serious… until you…’ she whispered.

If only she could crawl away and die so that the madness of her heart couldn’t torment her anymore.

‘This is very serious for me as well,’ Snape said. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.’

‘Why?’

‘For reasons not dissimilar to yours.’

The young woman looked up at him, the unanswered questions shining in her eyes.

‘I… I cannot speak of it… not yet…’ Snape said softly.

Esmé nodded, but Snape could see that she was uneasy.

‘I’m not like them…’ he began.

The young woman put two fingers on his lips.

‘I know – that’s why I fell so hard for you,’ she whispered, pulling him on top of her as she lay down.

They began to kiss, slowly and tenderly, taking their time. Esmé’s hands pushed up his long jumper and Snape eased himself up and took it off while Esmé began to undo his pants. She pulled them down and the former professor stepped out of them, revealing a ferocious erection that had been hidden from her. The young woman lifted up her arms and Snape pulled off her sweatshirt and then her heavy cord jeans and underwear.

Snape moved on top of her once more, raining kisses on her face, neck and down to her chest. He tongued an already engorged nipple and then seized it in his mouth, causing both of them to moan as he continued to lick and nibble. Esmé gave into the pleasure that was overloading her senses as Snape continued south. She was grateful she’d had a full wax because he didn’t leave an inch untouched as he began to devour her hungrily. She’d never had a man pay so much attention to her pleasure the way he did.

She moaned his name, begging him not to stop. She got the shock of her life when his tongue went further south still and ficked back and forth over her other entrance.

‘Oh Merde!’ she gasped, not really wanting to believe how good it felt.

Snape chuckled at her unintentional pun.

‘You most definitely do not taste of shit, mademoiselle…’ he smirked before rubbing the head of his penis against that tightest of orifices.

He needed lubricant and there was only one way to get it without going upstairs and breaking the mood. The former professor plunged into Esmé’s wetness hard and deep. They found their rhythm and he was pleased at how aroused she was. After a few minutes he withdrew and began to gently poke at her rear end.

‘Just do it,’ Esmé gasped as she felt the head of his cock penetrate her.

‘Have you ever…?’

‘Yes, sort of!’ she gasped, as he thrust himself into her.

Her eyes began to water as Snape lifted her up by her hips and began to rock in and out with steady thrusts.

‘Relax, my love. You are too tense, just let go...’ Snape purred as his black eyes bore into hers.

It was hard for either to catch their breath as they gave in to their heated passion. Esmé began to meet his thrusts and together they found their rhythm as she pleasured herself with her fingers. The room came to life with his moaning and her wails. The former Potions Master was reaching his climax and began to pound faster. He held the base of his cock so he wouldn’t come too soon. He started to feel faint and clutched at Esmé’s legs which were slung up over his shoulders.

‘Oh Jesus! Oh Merlin!’ he rasped as he finally pulled out and let go, coming all over her belly.

When the last of his thundering shudders had died down he opened his eyes.

‘Am I really your love?’ Esmé croaked.

‘You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t’, Snape replied as he lay down next to her and took her in his arms.

Esmé nodded and looked into the fire.

‘Good…’

The former Potions Master held her and within minutes Esmé was fast asleep.

xxxOOOxxx

When Esmé woke up it took a moment for her to get her bearings. She looked around the alcove and realised she was in bed, in Sebastian’s bed. A cursory glance at the clock on his night table indicated she had another half hour or so to sleep.

So he had carried her up to bed. The young woman looked down at his dark head, resting comfortably just below her breasts. He was holding tight to her, as if to keep her from wandering off in the middle of the night.

‘We are quite a pair…’ Esmé thought to herself.

She closed her eyes and let sleep take over once more.

xxxOOOxxx

‘Esmé,’ Snape said softly as he gave her a gentle shake. ‘Come on love, it’s time to wake up.’

‘Whaa?’

‘You were the one who insisted on getting up with me at this uncivilised hour.’

‘Mmm. It’s worth it though…’ Esmé replied groggily.

Snape didn’t reply as he turned on the light.

‘I’ll go make breakfast,’ he murmured before giving her a kiss.

Esmé watched him bound down the stairs. She listened as he banged around, slamming doors as he rummaged through cupboards and the fridge.

She hurried through her shower, needing to stick to her schedule so that she could make it back by tomorrow night as planned.

xxxOOOxxx

Esmé came down just as Snape finished preparing a hot breakfast of porridge, omelette and eggs. He’d brewed strong black coffee for him and a pot of hot peppermint tea for her.

‘Mmm; smells wonderful,’ she sighed as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his back.

They stayed together like that for a moment and then Snape turned around and held her tight.

‘Breakfast will get cold…’ he muttered as he reluctantly pulled away from her.

He dished out their food and sat down after she did.

They didn’t speak as they ate their breakfast. Esmé could tell he was gearing up for a foul mood that had everything to do with her leaving for the day.

After a half hour she checked the time.

‘I need to get going,’ she said rising and taking her things to the sink. ‘Let me wash these…’

‘No… don’t worry about it; I’ll see to them later,’ Snape replied. ‘It will give me something to do…’

His voice tailed away as they put on their heavy coats and outerwear. He had already said too much. A few minutes later they were walking up the lane to the bus stop. The sun was nowhere near ready to rise and landscape looked as desolate as Snape felt.

They heard the coach in the distance.

‘I am coming back, Sebastian; and you are coming home with me. You’ll see,’ Esmé said as she took his face in her hands.

‘Your hands are freezing!’ Snape sniffed.

‘Then you better have a roaring fire ready for me when I get back.’

They began to kiss heatedly and for the briefest of moments the former Potions Master couldn’t bear to let go. The coach crunched to a stop and Esmé got on. She turned around and to her surprise Snape was still standing there. The doors closed and she lumbered to a seat, throwing herself down. The bus finally took off and she stared out the window at Snape standing there at the stop, watching it as it disappeared until finally she couldn’t see him anymore.

xxxOOOxxx

Esmé arrived in St. Helier and made the first ferry across to St. Malo. She hated being so mysterious, but it was a necessary evil. She tried not to think about it as she closed her eyes for a quick nap.

‘Might as well get some more sleep while I can…’ she thought to herself

Esmé had a long day ahead of her. Despite what she’d told Sebastian, she would be finished with her business that afternoon.

She only needed the extra time for the sake of appearances.

xxxOOOxxx

It seemed that no sooner had Esmé closed her eyes than she was being awakened by the announcement that they had reached St. Malo. She stretched and then made her way quickly to the terminal. She frowned as she took in the noise that greeted her. There were a reasonable amount of people even at this ungodly hour.

She walked quickly through the crowd and took a circuitous route away from the terminus buildings. There was no point to wasting precious time with conventional methods. There was a small park nearby and in ten minutes she’d found her spot.

There was one last look around to make sure that she was alone.

With a loud CRACK, Esmé Disapparated.