Barbarism to Decadence.

Over the next week Severus watched Vance with a growing feeling of heartache. It had become second nature for him to keep his expression cool and detached, just more of the playacting he'd been doing ever since the night he'd confessed his unforgivable crime to Dumbledore. He'd lost his head a little, been side-swiped by the powerful effect the young wizard had on him, but never before had he been given such an important reason to remain level-headed. For that very reason no one suspected how the changes in the Potions professor tore at him.

Where once Vance had been a vital, bright ray of golden sunshine given life and form, now the man was little more than a weak, watery glow seen through a sooty windowpane. He still smiled, and his laughter regularly rang through the castle, but the smiles never quite reached his eyes and his laughter sounded hollow. No one else seemed to notice the changes, but they were achingly evident to Severus and he often found himself wanting to look away from a grin or cover his ears like a child to block out a chuckle. He was the cause of this fundamental change, and it ate away at him like acid.

Still, as Saturday approached he grew increasingly more excited. Perhaps in the singular environment of the field between the pitch and the lake, discussing something that really meant something to him, Vance would regain some of his spark. That hope kept Severus warm when he slipped beneath the blankets of his bed at night and drifted into a sleep still riddled with nightmares that had him waking with screams dying in his throat. Most of these dreams featured an infant with black hair, a mad cackle and eyes the precise color of molten gold.

When the sun rose on Saturday morning, he was seated before his fire, staring into the flames and trying to banish the chill that bit deep into his flesh to turn his bones to ice. The bastard, insane offspring that lurked in his dreams terrified him beyond reason. He knew it was foolish to fear such an improbable future, but still he shivered and fought the urge to rise once more and check the corners of his home for the squalling, twisted baby. Even Bellatrix's child would not be crazy from birth, would it? If it were, no infant could hate its deceitful father. And it definitely couldn't seek him out and commit patricide.

He shook free of his horrifying contemplation of the ridiculous dream, standing to glide through his rooms to the bathroom, shedding his clothing just outside of the door. He laid them on the chair kept there for this express purpose, then stepped into the cool room to pad to the shower. Goose bumps broke out over his skin and he sucked in sharply, cock rising even as he stepped across the threshold and turned on the tap, pulling the door shut. His body knew what time it was and that soon he would be wrapped in steam and memories, each warming him in their own way.

Only here would he allow himself to let down his guard, to whisper the name that often danced across his tongue, longing to be spoken. He ignored his growing need in favor of carefully washing his hair, swirling his fingertips over his scalp and breathing in the scent of melons. A quick rinse, and then he repeated the process, filling his lungs with the uncharacteristically bright, mellow smell. Truth was, he'd loved the fecund odor of melons since he was a child and his mother would sometimes take him to the shore and buy him flavored ice with just this summer scent. They were some of the happiest moments in his life, no doubt because his father did not feature in any of them.

He sighed and combed his nimble fingers through his hair as he let the spray wash away the thick lather, finally letting his mind drift to the fantasies he had lovingly built. His hands dipped and gathered rich foam from the heavy bar of soap, a blend of his own creation which carried a rich sandalwood and ambergris note. He found the combination played perfect counterpoint the sweet melon of his hair, and enjoyed the way they melded. Still, his favorite combination was forever leather and honeysuckle.

He sighed as his hands began their familiar movements across his skin, eyes fluttering closed as he brought forth his favorite daydream. Vance was stretched out beneath the bows of a willow tree, almost hidden by the drooping tendrils. He peered from between the delicate leaves with a beckoning smile, inviting Severus into his secret, shady haven. Sunlight and shadow danced across the man's skin, glittering in his hair and sparking fire in his polished galleon gaze. He was perfection and he was all Severus'.

The clever hands slid down his stomach and finally one curled at the base of his rigid length, drawing a low moan from his throat. He'd seen those beautiful eyes in his dreams for the past seventeen years, never understanding why they drew him, or even to whom they belonged. Now they had a face, and a soul behind them, and this only made them that much more compelling. His breathing grew ragged and he whispered, shivering at the forbidden name as it slipped across his lips. "Vance..."

His handsome wizard drew him close and wrapped him in strong, capable arms, sharing his unique warmth and enveloping him in that intoxicating scent that was all his own. He knew that he never had to pretend when he was held so tenderly, he could lower all of his battlements and be himself, truly and completely for the first time since...well, ever. Vance would never laugh at his tears, or scorn his secrets. He could be completely open with his American and never fear being stabbed in the back. He longed so deeply for the relaxation that would come in that loving embrace.

A shudder flooded through him as his hand slid swiftly over his straining erection, passage made slick with the soap. He could feel the coals of passion burning hotter within him, bringing him closer to combustion by inches. He murmured the name of his beloved softly, over and over, like a prayer spoken to keep fear at bay in the dead of night. If it were anyone else, he would be disgusted by his desire to be held and touched. He would hate himself for longing to let go his walls and be vulnerable and needy. But, he could not fault himself for seeking a safe haven in the arms of possibly the only man he would ever fully trust, the man he'd loved since they'd shared a kiss that had reverberated through both of their lives for the past seventeen years.

The thought of the kiss brought him to his knees and he bent forward beneath the pounding spray to moan his need to the shower tiles. His fist flew faster, every muscle flexing and quivering, his breath bursting from his chest in loud, explosive gasps. He could taste his beloved once more, feel the movement of his tongue within his mouth and the softness of his lips pressed to his own. He teetered on the knife-edge of pleasure, ready to topple forward and spill himself into the water swirling across the floor of his shower. Release came with a blissful shout of that precious name, but only after he brought forth the image of the young man's eyes as they had looked in the midst of their first kiss. So surprised, delighted and filled with hunger.

Severus' left hand slapped to the tiled floor, body swaying as he milked every last drop from his softening cock and then huddled over trying to calm his breathing and slow the rabbit-quick pounding of his heart. In all his life he had never seen anything so stunning as those molten golden eyes, they had claimed him as surely as the mouth that had pressed to his own. If in his final moments on earth he was granted a single vision to carry him into death, he knew only those eyes would be sufficient to usher him without fear.

------

Vance was scared. In fact, he had been living in a constant state of low-grade panic ever since he'd woken that morning a week earlier with his head pounding and his body weak from his binge-drinking. It had taken a few hours before he realized the gnawing terror was not a side-effect from over-indulgence, and then it had been another day before he'd known the reason behind his fear. Something was missing inside of him. He could feel the empty place the way one could explore the gap when a tooth was lost, feeling around the edges with light touches. He dared not press too hard, for whenever he did his panic flared so intensely that he nearly swooned under it. Still, he could feel the hollowness at his core and knew something essential had been taken from him.

Colors were not nearly as bright as they once had been, the air less crisp and the world, in general, not half as beautiful. He woke mornings trembling and whimpering with anxiety, his arms clutching his pillow and a name trying to trip its way off his tongue. It was maddening, to want so desperately to say something, but not have a clue what it was he needed to say. He wasn't sleeping enough, barely had an appetite and had to literally force his food down his throat for fear of becoming sick and having to miss classes. No matter what he might be dealing with, it was no reason to disrupt the lives of his students.

As he prepared for his Understanding Muggles class, he began to feel something other than terror, and clung to the slender thread of excitement and anticipation as if it were a lifeline. For the first time in many days, he was eager for the day to pass so that he could meet his students under the warm sun and discuss Alice's Adventures. He wondered absently if Phineas would be there, and then was halted in his tracks by the fleeting sensation of terrible guilt and burgeoning arousal. His brow furrowed over the strange feelings, but they were gone so quickly that he decided he must have merely imagined them. He barely knew Phineas, why should the boy bring up any emotions at all?

With a final check of his supplies, he headed out of his suite and through the castle, whistling brightly as he made his way toward the patch of grass between the lake and the pitch. It was a fine day and he was feeling better than he had in almost a week, perhaps things were looking up and that odd empty feeling was merely a passing malaise.

------

Hermione had not missed the changes in the Potions professor, nor had Snape's constant watch over the man gone unnoticed. She had been angry at first about the blatant staring, but then she'd quickly realized that no one else had noticed, and Snape always looked just this side of bored out of his mind. Maybe she just noticed his interest because of all the secrets she shared with the two men. Really, why had she gotten involved in this mess again? She could hardly look after two grown men on top of her schoolwork and trying to keep Harry from obsessing about whatever Draco Malfoy was up to. Men were so bothersome!

She settled in the grass with her copy of Alice's Adventures in her lap and a short list of questions tucked into the pages. She'd read the book through a couple of times, and she knew it was going to be frustrating waiting for her answers until the rest of the class had caught up. She knew that Vance would discuss the book with her, but after her last disastrous visit to his quarters she was wary of being alone with him. It wasn't that she had anything to fear from him, but she suspected that he might be in danger from her. It was disconcerting to discover that you were capable of terrible things when confronted by the object of your affection.

Her eyes drifted up when she heard footsteps approaching and her damned heart started fluttering about in her chest like a drunken hummingbird. Did he have to be so handsome and charming? It wasn't fair of him to walk around looking like the very epitome of all her girlish fantasies, not when he was in love with someone like Snape. Though, she had to admit to herself, if grudgingly, that Snape had behaved with a shocking level of nobility and courage by saving Vance. The begging had finally convinced her completely of his good intentions and strong feelings for the handsome young professor. That he would humble himself that way to her, of all people, simply to be granted the chance for a few hours in Vance's presence said a lot.

Speak of the devil. Her eyes flicked to the pretty blond boy that crept up and settled a few feet off to the side of the rest of the group, dressed in his school uniform. Of course, he wouldn't bother with casual attire like the rest of them, even as Phineas Snape was a fussy, stuffy anti-social...jerk. She smirked to herself at her deliberate softening of her thoughts, reminding herself that green wasn't her color. She sighed and waited for the rest of the class, glancing back to Vance just in time to catch him looking at 'Phineas' with a strange expression on his face. Unfortunately, the look passed away before she could decipher its exact nature, but she decided then and there to watch for any more of those funny glances.

Oh, really! She shot a glare at 'Phineas' when he glanced at her with a sort of stupid, grateful smile. They weren't supposed to know each other, and already he was slipping drastically in his supposed acting ability. She was glad when he seemed to get the message and shifted, slumping a bit and peering off distractedly toward the sky. There, now he looked like a vapid, spoiled little Pureblood twit. Of course, the act was helped along by his cherubic good-looks. Why was Vance peering at the blond boy as if he knew him from somewhere, but couldn't quite remember where? Suddenly, Snape's brilliant idea didn't seem quite so clever. In fact, she was beginning to suspect there were major flaws.