The Moon Has Spoken

Fiddler lay tensely on her bed, waiting for Severus and unable to sleep. She was staring at the dan sha shadows on the ceiling, with Triskelion resting on her belly as she petted him absently.
She had taken a long, sooting bath and changed into one of her fresh sleeping scrubs, in the hopes that it would relax her enough to get some sleep and stop worrying about the man that had shared her bed in the past few weeks, to no success whatsoever. Her mind seemed occupied by him and only him, with only a small amount of gray cells left to unfathom the mysteries surrounding the autopsies.

She sighed and tossed restlessly about, much to Triskelion’s displeasure. Just when she was deciding to get out of bed and get herself a cup of tea, or maybe even go to the music room and play the piano, the door creaked open and she felt her heart nearly beat out of her ribcage when she saw Severus’ startled expression at her own relieved smile. He walked towards the bed with his catlike stride, getting rid of his clothing as he did, and threw himself in her open arms, crushing her to him and kissing her desperately.
Triskelion barked loudly and jumped off the bed looking mortally offended.

“Severus…”, Fiddler breathed through slightly bruised lips, when he finally broke the kiss, worried at his silence and the anguish that poured out of him, “what happened?”

He lay her gently on her back against the fresh sheets and worked her hair free from the rubberband, burying one hand in it. He settled himself next to her, a leg draped across her thighs, the other hand to her breasts, and his head on her shoulder, and sighed.

“Do not ask. Please”.

“All right”.

Fiddler was content now that he was here and she knew he was safe, so she wouldn’t disturb him with her curiosity. She shifted to her side to face him, and held him to her, caressing his back soothingly. He hissed and drew back, putting her hands to his hair instead. He closed his eyes as her fingers slid through his lank tendrils, and he moaned as he felt her lips on that sensitive spot on his chest that she’d discovered. She drew back.

“I’m sorry. Do you―”

But he silenced her with another of his hungry kisses.

“Yes. I do”.

He moved to rid her of her sleeping scrub, taking in the clean scent of her skin, suckling the exposed spots as a drowning man would seek for air; he dragged his mouth over her neck, feeling her pulse pound quickly against his lips, and his breathing became shallow, incredibly aroused by it. He bit down tenderly, relishing when she arched her neck, pressing her head against the pillows.

“Oh, Severus…”

“Fiddler―”, he choked out.

He kept nuzzling at her, his face transfixed with desire and, a very flashy part of Fiddler suddenly wanted to hear him say he loved her, but she wasn’t as fool as to ask it of him. So she settled for feeling him, pressed against her, exploring her whole body with lips, teeth, tongue and hands. She had lost some of her awkwardness as the weeks passed and Severus continued to prove his eagerness to see her, touch her, and please her thoroughly, although her amazed mind still refused to believe it…
Not that it was questioning if Severus’ reactions to her were real or not right now.

She found herself suddenly turned on her stomach, and heard and felt Severus’ surprised gasp against the skin of her back.
She chuckled, for she knew what he had just seen.

“How many… of them… are there?”, she heard him ask, as his hands roamed restlessly over her skin.

“Just three”, she said, and added, somewhat shyly. “You don’t like them?”

He groaned passionately in response, and she shivered as she felt his tongue tracing the shape of the tattoo imprinted on the small of her back, moaning into the pillow at the sheer sensuality of his action.

“Haven’t you… seen… it… before?”, she managed, her voice muffled.

“No…”, he panted. “I… believe… I have… been… otherwise… distracted…”, his hands slid under her sides to cup her breasts, “besides… it is… the first time… we try… this… position…”

“All… too true”, she agreed.

He used his arms as leverage and positioned her on all fours, grabbing her hips to press them against his own. He kept one hand there, as the other wandered down to her nether regions, to work out her moisture, and groaned in raw pleasure as he slid inside of her, moving very slowly at first and then giving into maddening need. He rammed into her relentlessly, breathing out her name with his lips against her shoulderblades, his free hand caressing her as the other held her to him.
Fiddler clenched herself around him, arching backwards to increase their contact, and moaned softly when she heard him cry out in pleasure. She felt his bruising grip on her hip and his warm breath on her back as she climaxed in a swirl of bliss and collapsed on the bed, boneless and shaky. Severus landed atop of her, panting and heaving, and she felt him bury his nose into her hair. She managed a smile when Severus rolled her to her side to pull her into his embrace, his restless fingers still caressing her arms.

“What is it, anyway?”, he spoke, with his lips pressed to her temple.

“What’s what?”

“The tattoo”.

“Ah! The letters imprinted on the Ring of Power. It’s a Muggle book by―”

“J.R.R. Tolkien”, Severus finished. “I have read it”.

Fiddler smiled.

“I thought so.”

“May I… see it again?”, he asked.

She nodded against his shoulder and rolled over. Severus traced the black coiled letters tattooed on her back with his fingertips, smiling as his action made her shiver.

“…One Ring to rule them all…”, he whispered sleepily. ”One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the Darkness bind them\".

He pressed a kiss between her shoulderblades and rolled her back to face him, craddling her in his arms and legs.

“Do you know”, he yawned, “that it bears resemblance to what the Dark Mark was created to do to us?”

She kissed his lips softly.

“I had noticed”, she murmured. “In the Darkness bind them…”

“It is…”, another yawn, “rather startling… how… he seems to… take it all from… what he most despises…”

His voice died and his breathing grew deeper, his arms loosening ever so slightly around her. Fiddler kissed his chest and settled her head on it to sleep as well, but despite her post-coital languor her eyes remained stubbornly open.
Severus turned his back to her in his sleep, and she then understood his sudden innovation and why had he altered their positions so she could not touch nor see his back; across it glowed angrily red and violet wounds, that strongly resembled whip abrasions…
Or lightning-shaped scars.


With a lump on her throat, she turned out the lights and finally managed to doze off, not daring to snuggle close to him as not to hurt him further.

~*~

Severus woke up as he felt something cold and soothing on his aching back. He tried to blink his drowsiness away, and soon enough he realised he was lying on his stomach, and Fiddler, kneeled on the bed beside him, wearing only her scrubs top, was applying some sort of thick ointment to his burning skin.
Doctor Greene comes to the rescue, he thought, and it wasn’t a sardonic thought.
It was affectionate.

You are falling for her, you realise that, Snape?

He didn’t answer himself.

“Don’t move”, she admonished, as if she’d just seen his intentions printed on his back. “I am almost done”.

“Fiddler―”

“I won’t ask”.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed, letting her take care of his injuries. He was oddly touched by her discretion, as his rational mind didn’t want to upset her by telling her what had happened, but a deeply hidden, almost forgotten part of him suddenly disagreed, and he found his mouth had opened of its own volition, and was already telling her that Malfoy had used a magical whip on him, just for the fun of it, and all the more, trying to find out if pain would break what threatens couldn’t: his Occlumency skills.

“Of course, he failed dismally”, Severus said scathingly. “It takes a little more than that to break me”.

“Yeah? I know a few well-working methods”, Fiddler said, feeling free to joke now that she saw he was hurt only from the skin out.

“I am sure you do”, he replied huskily and tried to roll over himself but Fiddler stopped him.

“Stay still. Wait until it’s absorbed”.

He obliged, but tugged at her hand to make her lay next to him. He extended his hand and ran it through her hair.

“Do I dare ask what is it that you put on me?”

Fiddler smiled.

“Oh, a very special concoction of mine…Etophenamate, Claritromycine, Lydocaine, Thyme, Coriander and Chamomile. I keep it in the fridge and it works wonders”.

“I am beginning to realise that”, he accepted. “I am familiar with the herbs, but, the first three you mentioned―?”

“An antiinflammatory, an antibiotic and a local anaesthetic”.

“Which would explain the numbness. Thank you, it feels wonderful”.

“Welcome”, she moved forward to kiss his nose and was startled when she heard him chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing… I am just… not used to it”.

“Well, you better do”, Fiddler admonished, “because I like doing it”, and to prove her point she kissed him again.

They lay on their bellies, to to each other in amiable silence for quite a while, until Fiddler suddenly remembered what she had learnt the day before and she informed Severus about the autopsy results. His eyes widened as he weighed in the possibilities.

“I wager we could work on a counteract for the potion”, Fiddler said thoughtfully. “Only I would need the precise ingredients and a plausible story for the Unclear fellows…”

“The what?”

“The Nuclear and Genetics Department”, Fiddler clarified. “That’s what we call them… Medical joke. Anyway, if I come up with a decent invention so I can coax them into work along with me I am sure we can manage to block whatever enzyme or metabolic way Voldemort’s cells seem to have enhanced, so the potion won’t work”.

Severus snorted.

“I could do that as well if only I was in my dungeons”.

“But you’re not, and what’s worst, you’re not even allowed to perform magic, hence, you’ll have to rely on myself”. Fiddler remained silent for a while and then added pensively. “It would be the final strand for him, wouldn’t it? To be defeated by something worked up by Muggles”.

Severus chuckled as he thought of it.

“Yes. It would be. You do relish in life’s sarcasm, do you not?”

“Yeah, I am nonchalant enough to find it amusing”.

Severus drapped his arm across her back, and traced lazy patterns over the fabric of her scrub. She sighed contentedly and snuggled close to him.

“How’s your back?”, she murmured, eyes closed.

“Much better, thank you”.

His fingers travelled up to the nape of her neck, making her shiver as he touched her thin skin, grazing the outline of her ear, then moving further to glide his fingers through her long, silken hair.

“What time is it?”, he heard her mumble. That sleepy, soft voice of hers was strangely alluring.

“I do not know… nor care”, he replied.

He resumed his caresses, but, although incredibly responsive, Fiddler wasn’t easily distracted from her train of thought either.

“We have to get up and get something to eat… Then you could go to the hospital with me to see if we can get the Unclear fellows to work for a good cause and save the world as we know it…”, Severus laughed at her sarcasm. “Unless”, she added, “that you have to report last night’s events to Albus”.

“Not all of them, of course”, Severus said mischievously, and Fiddler blushed, thinking that tone suited him. “But you are not mistaken, I must let the Headmaster know what transpired amongst the Dark Lord’s minions… and to ask for instructions”.

He looked away, but Fiddler went direct to her point.

“How much longer d’you think you’ll be able to keep your façade?”

Severus sighed.

“I do not know. Malfoy’s thirst of power is growing like weed and he shall do everything within his reach to uncover me, he has been trying to do so ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries. I thought my absence had gone unnoticed… But I was mistaken. Besides, Kreacher informed Narcissa of my continuous presence at number 12 Grimmauld Place”.

Fiddler’s eyes widened.

“I was able to justify that by pulling up a rather deceitful story of undercover betrayal… And, although the Dark Lord found it believable… Malfoy did not. The game is getting dangerous”.

“You see it as a game?”

“Life is a game, Fiddler”, Severus said, suddenly serious. “In order to survive you must know how and when to play… and place your wagers”.

“So that’s what you do? Turn to wherever wind blows?”

“In a way. Do you not?”

“No”, Fiddler answered. “I stick to what I believe in, no matter what”.

“Wynn did that, and look where it led her to”, Severus said against his will.

Fiddler’s expression hardened immediately.

“I am not Wynn”, she said slowly. “There’s a difference between stubborness and lunacy”.

Severus bowed his head.

“Be that as it is, it is still foolish”.

“Perhaps”, Fiddler conceded. “Mother used to tell me I should be like a bulrush, that survives by bending when the wind blows strong”.

“But you would rather break than bend before someone, would you not?”

Severus traced Fiddler’s cheekbone gently with his thumb, the rest of his hand cupping her chin. He pulled her face close to his and kissed her fully, slowly, with the intensity that was his brand. It was a long time before either of them could speak again.

“Take my word for it, Fiddler. As much as it honours you to be that particular way… In the end it will only lead you to destruction. Learn to bend… and to plan your backstrike”.

Fiddler’s eyes beamed in understanding.

“Just as you’re doing now”, she said.

“Sort of speaking”. Severus went silent for a while and then added, almost against his will. “I know you must wonder why I joined them and now I am against them…”

“Well, I know why you left”, she said softly, putting a hand to his shoulder.

A shadow crossed Severus’ face and he looked away, but he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“I joined them without questioning it…”, he sighed ruefully. “It was what was expected from me… Nothing could bestow more honour within my family than their only Heir following his father’s steps. Mother, of course, was not pleased… But she was not in any position to protest.”

“Do you regret it?”

Severus considered her question.

“Do you mean, if I feel guilty about it?”

She nodded.

“I cannot say that”, he spoke at least, bluntly. “I did… what I had to do. I did not question it”.

“I heard a soldier said that once. A Nazi second lieutenant who commited suicide after Nuremberg”.

Severus nodded.

“I am familiar with it. The fact is, Fiddler, I have always believed what does not kill you, strengthens you”.

“So have I”, Fiddler said. “But there are some things I wouldn’t do”.

“That is the difference. I did not say I was proud of what I did. But I cannot change that. It was… a matter of survival”.

“Better them than you, is it?”

“Do we all not think that?”

Fiddler remained silent. His ruthless honesty mesmerized her.

“Yes… Only we’re too conditioned by manners to say it out loud”.

“If you ask any of your fellow Gryffindors, you shall learn I am well famous for my supposed lack of manners”, Severus pointed, kissing her again, his tongue darting daringly into her mouth to feast on her, as if trying to prove his remark. “Of course, that would have been quite a shock to my aristocratic mother”, he finished, huskily. “Providentially for her, she never got to hear of such comments”.

Severus pushed himself up on his elbows and knees to get out of bed, and his eyes followed Fiddler contemplatively as she walked to the bathroom. He made a move to follow her, but she denied with her hand.

“You can’t get your back wet”, she admonished.

Severus looked suddenly crestfallen.

“I have not bathed myself since yesterday”, he growled.

Fiddler smiled seductively and winked at him.

“You smell fine to me”, she said, and closed the bathroom door behind her.


A/N

Bagged and Tagged (B&T), body ready for dispatch to morgue, medical slang.

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!!!!