To Know Who I Am

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to my beta reader, ubiquirk, my Brit-picker, Saracen77, and my alpha readers, Bluedolfyn and Willow_Kat.
Disclaimer: If you think I own these characters or am making any money off them, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.
Note: Thanks so much to those who have left reviews, and I apologize for the increasing gaps in posting.

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Chapter 20

Severus looked at the elaborate chocolate egg next to his teacup with disdain. While she was not nearly as insufferable as Dumbledore, Minerva did still insist upon giving the staff some sort of remembrance for the various holidays. He briefly considered appropriating a catnip plant from the greenhouses to give her in return. He was almost certain Celia would find it as amusing as he would.

Almost.

The attendance at Easter breakfast was not markedly different than that on any other Sunday, with the exception of the proliferation of owl-delivered sweets and resultant squeals and other noises that ought not to be made by children until a much more decent hour, if at all. And of course, this had Peeves more riled up than usual, and he was swooping down over the students, tweaking their noses and occasionally stealing their Easter eggs.

Severus was mildly startled when a familiar owl landed in front of him with a parchment tied to its leg. He untied the letter and gave the owl a bit of toast, then watched thoughtfully as it flew back outside. Tucking the parchment into a pocket of his robes for later, he returned his attention to those present – and absent – in the Great Hall.

It was surprising that Hagrid had not yet arrived, and Severus wondered whether the Hippogriff birth had not yet occurred. Mr. Lightfeather was not present either, though he often came late for breakfast on Sundays. When Hagrid did arrive, nearly halfway through the meal, he had the boy in tow, and both appeared rather the worse for their night’s work.

“Mornin’,” Hagrid grumbled as he took his seat.

Severus nodded in reply and waited until the other man had gulped down his tea before asking how the night had gone.

“It was a near thing. Almost lost ‘em both.”

Severus felt his eyes widen.

“Mother ‘n’ foal,” the gamekeeper added. “Was a right good thing t’have an extra set o’ hands.”

“I am glad Mr. Lightfeather was able to make himself useful.”

Privately, Severus worried whether the experience might not have reinforced the boy’s inflated self-confidence even more. A glance at the Slytherin table, however, showed no sign of the cocky bearing he’d held the previous day. Of course, he also looked about to fall asleep in his porridge.

“Think the kid’s got a little better idea how much he doesn’t know,” Hagrid said with a nod and a wink. “He’s a good ‘un, Professor. Jus’ a bit high-spirited is all.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Severus replied. “I sincerely hope that is so.”

The demon had spoken of an echo of his past that would appear. If he had anything to say about it, Severus would make certain that echo was not any of his Slytherins following in his own footsteps, his first interpretation of those words. Unconsciously patting his pocket, he wondered if the demon, Lorne, might have meant something else entirely.

~ ~ ~

“Are you kidding me?” Celia demanded. “All this time, and it’s been you? And your ‘baby’ is the freaking Savior of the Wizarding World?”

The red-headed and slightly transparent woman looked taken aback.

“What? I’ve seen your picture on your son’s desk, even though I didn’t recognize you. Nice bit of magic there.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

“Why am I …? Oh, I don’t know.” Celia crossed her arms over her chest, then lifted one hand to her chin. “Could be, maybe, that I spent the last bunch of months gearing up to help a new Slayer because, hey, that was the most logical reason to think some kid needed me here. Could be, maybe, that I’m a little ticked you obviously know exactly what kind of help Harry needs, which has nothing to do with me being a Slayer and everything to do with stuff I only found out because Severus happened to suggest asking this demon for help.”

“A demon?”

“And before you get all snippy about that, he’s a neutral demon, and if you have a problem with my methods, you could maybe have tried getting me some more information just a little bit earlier!” Celia had her hands back on her hips, mostly so she wouldn’t be tempted to find out if she could throttle this woman or if her hands would go right through her.

Even as she said it, Celia thought the level of rage she was feeling was maybe just a little … high for simply having not enough info. Something else about this situation just felt very offensive to her, and she wasn’t sure why. There was also this insistent pull she kept sensing that might have something to do with the silk thread tethering her to Willow, but it wasn’t the redhead’s magical signature that it felt like. So maybe that was what had her all infuriated. Whatever it was, she really needed to get over it.

“There were limitations to what I could communicate through your dreams,” Lily explained.

Celia took a deep breath and counted to ten as she let it out. Calm. Calm is good.

“Right. Limitations. Whatever. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Here I am, and here you are, and I’m not seeing much in the way of limitations here, except this.” She lifted the hand with the silk thread attached. “So before I get back to find out it’s next year or something, could we maybe get to the part where you tell me what I need to know to help Harry and Severus and shut down this potential Hellmouth while it’s still just a potential one?”

Lips pressed together in a tight line, Lily nodded before saying, “Yes. You have part of what you need already, although you will need to visit the other spring as well.”

“More water?” Still staying calm. Not blowing up at the nice dead lady who dragged me here to tell me to get more water.

Lily nodded.

“Right.” She clenched and unclenched her fists several times. “Blood and water. They’re going to love drinking that.”

Lily gave her a withering look. “When you have finished, it will not be merely blood and water. Like any potion, it will be more than the sum of its parts.”

Celia extended a hand in invitation. “So what am I doing to it?”

~ ~ ~

Safely ensconced in his office, Severus removed the parchment from his pocket.

Why now? After all these years, why write to me now?

Of course, he wasn’t going to learn the answer to that by staring at the seal, though the fact it was a Department of Mysteries seal rather than a personal one was somehow reassuring. Breaking through the wax, he opened and unrolled the letter.

Happy Easter Severus,

Surely she wasn’t writing to him now just to wish him that?

I know this is awkward, but, really, it’s been a few years, and we’ve both moved on. So I hope we can manage a professional consultation when the situation warrants it, as I feel this one does.

He sighed inwardly. Yes, they had both moved on, and he shuddered to think what mangled tales Potter had been passing her on that front. However, perhaps it was time he learned how to cope with a former lover who was still very much alive. While mutually ignoring one another’s existence had been working fairly well, he had to admit that he did miss their rather … spirited arguments over Potions theory. There were few who ever really challenged him in that area. Celia was one, but she was no Potions Mistress, and her focus was quite narrow. Hermione was another.

I’ve been studying Muggle theory relevant to anaphylactic shock. Assuming they’ve found a way to cause a person’s body to respond to Veritaserum in this fashion, the easiest solution would be to procure Muggle-style epinephrine injection devices. I’m currently trying to convince my superiors to pursue this.

I hardly think it safe, however, to make such an assumption, as we do not have sufficient evidence as to precisely how Loxley died. There are obviously several otherwise innocuous substances that become violently toxic when they interact with Veritaserum, but I have yet to find any that could remain in the body long enough to produce this effect at an unspecified future time. While not ruling out a delayed-delivery mechanism, such as a hollowed tooth, I have tested the following …

She had, of course, been very thorough. However, there were a few avenues she had not considered, and he began to write a response suggesting them. It was … strange to be writing her like this, but not unpleasant.

Perhaps this is one of those elements of the past I should consider retaining after all.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

“Enter,” he called out, setting the parchments aside.

In walked a very contrite and abashed-looking Colin Lightfeather.

“Professor Snape?”

“Yes.” He deliberately kept his voice stern. When had that begun to require an effort? No wonder the boy had become so complacent.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Lightfeather said. “I shouldn’t have been showing off like that.”

“No, you should not have.” Leaning forward slightly, Severus asked, “And have you managed to learn why that is so?”

“Because I don’t know enough yet,” the boy replied.

“You will never know enough,” Severus retorted. “There is always more to learn, always something you do not know. The problem at present is that you do not realize the limitations of your knowledge. Perhaps I have done you a disservice by teaching you defensive methods normally reserved for higher years.”

Lightfeather clearly had no idea how to respond to this.

“I do not plan to resume tutoring you and Miss Hollingberry after the holidays.” He held up a hand to forestall the boy’s imminent protest. “This is not a further punishment. I accept your apology. However, you have mastered sufficient skills to protect yourself from assaults by Mister Jarvis and his associates, and your friend no longer appears to be afraid of her own shadow. Our objectives have been met, and I believe it would be best if you both now returned your focus to your regular classes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Though obviously disappointed, at least the boy was not arguing.

Apparently I had not yet lost his respect entirely.

“And, Mister Lightfeather, in the future, you would do well to remember that it is frequently not to your advantage to display the full range of your knowledge and skills to your peers.” He fixed the boy with a stare. “You are a Slytherin. I suggest you begin to act like one.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy nodded eagerly and turned to go.

~ ~ ~

“So that’s it? That’s all the potion needs?” Celia found it amazing just how much calmer she could feel now that she had the instructions. She was still annoyed, but not nearly so much as before.

“Yes.” Lily nibbled her lip.

“But?” Celia asked, her voice trailing off to invite the other witch to fill in the blank.

“It will protect my son and Severus. Harry’s scar and Severus’ … Mark will be erased. It should also help to neutralize the soul-wound so that it cannot develop into what you call a Hellmouth.”

“So far so good,” Celia said impatiently. “What’s the problem?”

“It will do nothing to protect you. There is no way to erase your link to Voldemort.”

“Yeah, well.” Celia shrugged. “I didn’t think there would be.”

“After you neutralize the potential Hellmouth, you will still need to reunite the soul-wound with the remaining fragment of Voldemort’s soul.”

That … sounded tricky.

“It’s going to try to latch onto me, isn’t it?” Celia asked.

“Yes.”

“And if it does, it’s going to try to pull the rest of his soul into me while I’m trying to send it into the afterlife to join that soul, right?”

Lily nodded.

Well, it’s not like I thought it was going to be easy.

“I’m guessing you have a suggestion for that?” Celia asked aloud.

Lily nodded again.

“So, why do I have this feeling I’m not going to like it?”

~ ~ ~

Horror filled him as he watched, as if from outside himself, as the blast of green light shot from his wand to the frail, dying man before him.

His eyes shot open, and he reached out for the reassuring warmth that should have been beside him. Heart pounding, he grabbed his wand and cast a quick Lumos. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t just in the loo, then to remember where she was.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he was disgusted to find his cheeks wet. For years he’d coped with the nightmares without dissolving into the tears that had earned him the hated childhood nickname of “Snivellus.” He hadn’t even indulged in them during the time … his mind skirted away from the comparison. But after a mere few weeks, here he was, doing exactly that and reaching out for comfort like a child.

Damn her.

For the first time since she’d been released from the hospital wing, he felt the insistent tug of the magical bond between them, forged somehow by her life debt to him and her repayment of it. Or perhaps he simply missed her.

He rolled over, resolutely facing away from the side of the bed she normally occupied, and willed himself back to sleep.

~ ~ ~

“You are unusually quiet, Severus, even for you,” Minerva said.

“There does not appear to be much else to say,” he countered, idly picking a bit of lint from his sleeve.

“Come now.” She stood and walked over to her office window. “Surely you do not expect me to believe that you have spent the past three days marking essays and patiently waiting to find out what information Celia will bring back.”

“No,” he agreed. “However, I have not made any progress worthy of report in any of my lines of research.”

No progress at all would be more to the point. It is not as though I have not tried to find a way to remove the Mark before. Until we have more information, something new, it is unlikely that I will. Even the added knowledge that it will require a potion that utilizes human blood, a relative’s blood, has not opened any truly new avenues of research.

She turned to look at him rather like a cat contemplating a ball of string. “And have you any further insight into your portion of the demon-Seer’s revelations?”

“As I am entirely accustomed to ‘echoes of my past’ biting me in the arse, or whatever colorful phrase he used, I fail to see how that qualifies as any sort of revelation,” he said with a snort. “The rest was merely typical cryptic Seer ‘advice’ that will only ever make sense after the fact.”

Minerva hummed noncommittally.

“And what, pray tell, are you getting at, Headmistress?” he asked.

“I am not ‘getting at’ anything in particular, Severus, so much as I am surprised that you, of all people, would not be putting more effort into sorting out the meaning behind a prophecy that clearly involves you.”

He spread his hands before him. “What would you have of me? The fragment of the prophecy the vampire provided tells us only that these new Death Eaters will want access to Celia, Potter, and myself. I am far more interested in learning how we may prevent them from completing their ritual, and that will clearly require the information Celia is gathering. I am as stymied on that front as you appear to be on the matter of securing the grounds against them.”

“Yes.” Minerva returned her attention to the view beyond her window. “We have yet to find any sign of tampering. While it seems likely they somehow made use of the artifact that had been planted on Celia to enter, their escape is rather more problematic.”

“And the Ministry maintains that there was no sign of unauthorized Portkey use at that time?”

Minerva smirked. “The only unauthorized Portkey they have detected in the vicinity of Hogwarts was the one you created yourself.”

Severus tapped his fingers against his lips. This was old and much-worn territory. The simplest explanation would be that someone in the Portkey Authority was either involved with or in the pay of the new Death Eaters. Investigations thus far, however, had not uncovered any likely suspects.

It was already nearly seventy-two hours since she had left. Severus hoped Celia would soon return with something that would enable them to move forward.

~ ~ ~

“Have you been paying any attention to what’s actually been going on these past few months?” Celia demanded.

“Of course I have,” Lily replied. “Why do you think I’m suggesting this?”

Celia bristled. “If what I need is a link to either your son or Severus, I’ve got that already. And I’m sure as hell not going to suggest making that link any stronger!”

“You underestimate Severus,” Lily said. “He would do … much to protect someone he cares for.”

“No kidding,” Celia retorted. “What, you think I think he’d say no? He’d insist on it! That’d be why I’m not even telling him it’s an option. I’m kind of looking forward to breaking his link to him; I don’t want to turn around and bind him more tightly to me!”

“But you must! If you do not, and you fail, my son—”

“Will just take the bastard down again like he did before. He already knows his tricks, and I’ve taught him a good deal of mine.” Celia felt the rage bubbling back up inside her. “And you know, you’ve got a real nerve lecturing me on protecting myself for your son’s sake!”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Celia huffed. “It’s not like you didn’t have any warning. You’d been on the run for how long? Harry told me, though I admit I’m a little fuzzy on the exact timeline. But you knew you were being hunted. Okay, you Fideliused the house. But you knew there was a leak! So what’s with the total lack of a backup plan?”

This had been bothering her ever since she’d asked Harry for a bit more information about both times Voldemort had been defeated. Hands on her hips, Celia paced back and forth in front of the apparition, trying to keep her temper under control. After all, the woman was already dead.

“You knew your son had this massive destiny to live up to, and you didn’t make any plans that might have let him grow up with at least one parent to stand by him through that? It’s not like you had no idea what he’d be facing and just got yourselves killed in some random car crash. You threw yourself in front of a Killing Curse, and don’t tell me you knew that was going to buy him anything more than a few seconds! What is that? And you have the audacity to tell me to … to … because he needs me?” She stopped and faced Lily again. “The only thing Harry needs from me is the potion, and he’ll have that. The rest of it? Back off!”

Lily looked stunned and asked, “Are you even talking about me any longer?”

Celia crossed her arms over her chest again and contained a wince.

She has a point. Dammit.

“Maybe not,” Celia replied. “Point is, I’m not using some sort of sex-magic ritual to bind Severus to me any more than he already is. Either what we’ve already got is enough to anchor me or it’s not.” She was already rifling through various corners of her mind and coming up with a few things to try if it things went … badly. “And I’ll have a contingency plan or two for backup.”

“It won’t be enough.”

Celia set her shoulders. “It’ll have to be. I’ve learned a thing or two about fighting evil over the past seven years, and number one is that you can’t win by using your enemy’s tactics. I have no intention of becoming him just to prevent … becoming him.”

Lily … smirked. It took Celia a minute to figure out why. She glared back at the other woman.

“Did I pass your little test?”

“With flying colors.”

A little annoyed at being played yet again by this woman, Celia just glared at her.

“You are willing to let your ends justify the means you choose,” Lily said.

“Within reason,” Celia admitted.

“I had to be sure what your limit was.”

Celia stopped just short of asking what she’d have done about it, suddenly very aware that she really didn’t know much about this place. At all. She didn’t even know if she still had Slayer powers or magic, never mind both.

“You’re ready to go back,” Lily said. “Take the path I showed you once you’ve returned to your world, and you’ll find the White Spring.”

“And you’re sure that just using distilled water with some iron and calcium added wouldn’t have worked?”

The look the other woman gave her spoke volumes.

“Right. Got it. Sacred springs, whatever that really means.” Celia bit her lip. “When you go back to wherever it is you were, will you see my parents?”

“Which ones?”

She hadn’t thought of that. “All of them. Well, three out of four, obviously.”

“Not normally. It’s hard to explain.”

“But you could?” Celia pressed. “Just … to bring a message?”

“What message would you send?”

She closed her eyes. “I want Mom and Dad to know I still love them and miss them. And Selena, my biological mother … I guess I’d just want to tell her I’m sorry my … he hurt her and that I would have liked to have known her.”

“They already know that,” Lily said with a smile. “Now, you need to go.”

Before Celia could say another word, she felt a huge tug on the silk thread tied to her finger and found herself being pulled backwards. She stumbled and landed on something soft as she looked around her, bewildered by just how far down the hill she had ended up.

“Ow, Celia, get off me!” Willow said, pushing her away.

~ ~ ~

Willow’s hawk Patronus had arrived moments ago. Celia was back, and the two witches would be returning to Hogwarts shortly.

Despite the intervening years of peace, old habit enabled Severus to wait calmly in Minerva’s office. Emotions attempted periodically to make themselves known, but he resisted their allure. She would be bringing information, hopefully critical information, and it would be counterproductive to allow himself to be distracted.

A corner of his mind registered the hope that there might be time for her to distract him later – a suggestion he steadfastly ignored.

Minerva was thankfully engaged with ordering tea from the house-elves and not plaguing him further about his own research. He noticed several volumes on her desk that were not normally present in her office at all.

Apparently she has been doing research of her own.

Celia’s Watcher arrived shortly before she did. He must have been staying in Hogsmeade with Kennedy while the two witches were off on their “quest.”

The Watcher greeted Minerva cordially. Severus he barely granted a stiff nod, which Severus returned with equal coldness.

“I trust the holidays have been quiet, Minerva?” the Watcher asked, launching exactly the sort of petty conversation that most grated upon Severus’ nerves.

Severus let those emotions go too, also ignoring the fact that the magical tug he’d felt for the past several days was growing progressively less insistent.

Before it had all dragged on too long, a chime indicated that the gargoyle was permitting someone access to the stairwell leading to the Headmistress’ office, and shortly thereafter, Celia and Willow entered.

She looked … the same. A bit more tired, but apparently unharmed. Severus permitted himself a moment of relief, though he carefully did not allow it to show. When her eyes met his, she smiled, but then quickly shuttered her expression. That was so unlike her that it elicited a twinge of anxiety.

It is not as though I did not expect she would come to her senses once she was away from here and less isolated. Foolish of me to hope that it would take more than a few days.

He carefully let that go as well and composed himself to hear her report.

~ ~ ~

Hot water sluicing over her body, Celia spent her time in the shower recapping everything that had been said during the briefing.

Everyone had been surprised by the simplicity of the potion. Well, not so much Giles. Obviously he'd had at least some clue that the two springs were reputed to have special properties. Somehow, that knowledge seemed to have been confined to Muggle mythology, as Severus was utterly unaware of any such rumors and wanted to test the water of both springs extensively.

Good thing I brought back way more than we’ll need.

Angling so the water would only be hitting her head, she turned off the hot water and let the cooler stream run through her hair and over her scalp for a minute before shutting the shower off altogether and wrapping her hair in a towel.

Harry … well, she couldn’t really blame him for his reaction, she thought as she used another towel to pat the rest of herself dry and dressed, reluctantly choosing robes rather than jeans. She knew she’d rather have had the chance to talk to her own mother, and it was no surprise he was upset she’d had the chance to talk to his.

If I’d told him about the yelling, he’d probably have hexed me.

At least they all seemed agreed on how things were going to go from here. She’d get the potion started tonight, it would mature in about a week, and both Severus and Harry would drink it. Step two would be to deal with the nascent Hellmouth. Then they’d worry about the Death Eaters.

If nothing else, I want them to know for sure that it’s gone, that they have no reason to come back onto the grounds. Catching them would also be good, but considering they thought they had them all before, I want the information-spread to be the first priority.

She removed the towel and shook out her hair to let it start drying.

On her way into the kitchen, she picked up the Scythe and looked at it carefully. The surge of rightness, of ownership that washed over her was intense. No wonder Kennedy hadn’t been happy to let her take it. Even leaving it here while she went to brief the others had been difficult, though once she was away from it, the sense of loss dissipated.

It also gave her a sense of certainty that she was doing this right. Lily hadn’t said any particular blade was needed to draw her blood, but somehow Celia had just known this was what she had to use.

The silver cauldron was already set up with the water she planned to use next to it. She set the Scythe back down for a moment while she poured the water from first the Red Spring and then the White Spring into the cauldron, then gave three careful stirs, first clockwise, then counterclockwise.

Taking up the Scythe once again, she pressed the pad of her thumb against it, then allowed three drops to fall into the cauldron. She quickly healed the cut and used a bit of cloth to wipe the blood from the blade. She’d clean it properly in a bit, but first she needed to stir the potion.

Once again, three stirs clockwise, three stirs counterclockwise.

Three ingredients. Three drops of blood. Three stirs in each direction. Repeat the blood and stirring daily for a week, and voila. Voldemort Mark/Scar Erasing Potion.

It still pretty much just looked like water. But Lily was right: potions were more than just the sum of their ingredients.

She polished the blade of the Scythe and set it back in the holder she’d Conjured for it on her bedroom wall.

It was hard to leave it again, but not hard enough to keep her here when she wanted to Floo to Severus’ quarters. He’d clearly been bothered by several things during the briefing, though he’d masked it well, and she wanted to deal with that before he got any more overprotective than he already was.

With one last glance back to her bedroom and the Scythe, she tossed a pinch of powder into the fire and said simply, “Severus’ quarters,” before stepping into the green flames.

~ ~ ~

I should have known it could not be so simple as all that. Nothing in my life ever is.

Of all the people for Celia to have encountered, Lily would never have entered Severus’ mind. He swirled the Firewhisky in his glass as he contemplated the matter.

But why not? Of course she would still consider Potter her ‘baby’ and do anything in her power to see him protected.

So this, clearly, was what the demon had meant, when he’d said, “Echoes of your past are going to turn up where you least expect them. What you’ve got to be clear about is which ones are worth hanging onto and which ones to drop like the flaming frittatas they are.”

This was one portion of his past he’d thought put to rest. Not that he would ever forget her, but after the war, guilt over her death had ceased to be his driving motivation. He had seen her son through to his destiny, even kept him alive despite the boy’s apparent efforts to get himself killed. The debt had been paid.

Something about Celia’s bearing, the things that she seemed to be leaving unsaid, told him that it was not yet fully repaid. He wondered what it would take to make it so.

Celia would be here any minute, and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to be. Whatever she might intend, she’d said as she left the meeting that she would come to his rooms after she had “freshened up.” Was that only because of Minerva’s insistence she remain in the castle? Or was it because she was planning to have a “talk” with him?

A few days ago, his concern had been whether he would be able to see past her parentage. Shortly thereafter, he had felt awkward about re-establishing contact with Hermione while in a relationship with another woman. Now he could not stop brooding over Lily and was certainly not ready to deal with whatever Celia’s imminent arrival would bring. It was all too much. These were simply not the sort of problems that occurred in his life.

When Celia stepped through the Floo into his sitting room, he quickly took in her expression. He supposed he ought to be more relieved at the lack of condemnation, pity, or other offensive sentiment in her eyes. Whatever she’d been holding back earlier, it was clearly not what he’d feared.

“Not you, too,” she said, an exasperated note in her voice.

“Pardon me?”

“You’re giving me the same kind of look Harry does. So you are freaked out after all.” She had her arms wrapped around her waist, and her eyes were accusing.

“I do not ‘freak out,’” he replied, vaguely insulted.

“Well, then, what is it?”

He studied her for a moment before asking, “Do you plan to tell me whatever it was you did not elect to disclose whilst briefing Minerva?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said, squaring her shoulders.

He let that hang in the air for a moment, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Obviously you’re not feeling much like telling me what’s got you in such a mood,” she added. “So, stalemate?”

He stroked his whisky glass thoughtfully. She had a point: he had absolutely no desire to tell her what was bothering him. No matter her pretty words about not needing to know his past, about the only important thing being what he’d done to redeem himself, if she had any idea … No. He would not tell her. He nodded acquiescence. For now.

“Good.” An impish smile lit her face. “Then I move we table the discussion, plus anything to do with tactics or the potion – which I got started and won’t need to touch till tomorrow – or anything that passes for work, and just have a nice quiet afternoon. And evening.” Her smile turned into a grin. “And so on.”

He set down the glass. There was an edge to her voice that belied her carefree manner and expression. It was, however, pointless to dwell upon any of it. Choosing to take advantage of what leisure time they currently had was an entirely reasonable, even Slytherin thing to do.

She apparently took his silence for assent and seated herself on his lap. The last lingering sense of strain on the magical bond they shared vanished as her lips descended on his, and soon, he was too preoccupied to concern himself with anything but the immediate present.

~ ~ ~

She’d really only meant to kiss him. After all, she’d been wanting to ever since she’d seen him in Minerva’s office looking as cold and distant as she’d ever seen him. And then the look on his face just a minute ago … She still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t freaked out. But if he was willing to kiss her like that? Obviously not that freaked out. She sighed into his mouth as he buried his hands in her hair.

But she was starving, and they had all the rest of the day ahead of them, so really, she’d meant for them to have lunch first. Her hands, however, obviously had other ideas, as they were already working on the buttons of his frock coat and shirt.


Her eagerness was utterly seductive. The way her tongue caressed his. The way her fingers scrambled to expose him to their sweet caresses. They could almost be two entirely ordinary lovers who had simply missed each other for a few days, anxious to make up for lost time.

As he rose and drew her into his bedroom, he flatly ignored any troublesome reminders of just how much that “almost” encompassed or, rather, excluded.


She wasn’t deliberately avoiding the scar on his shoulder, the Mark on his arm. That had only been Lily testing her after all, and it wasn’t like she could inadvertently cast that spell anyway. She was simply more interested in teasing at his nipples with her tongue and grazing them with her teeth. And if she moved a bit more quickly than usual down his belly to taste his salty pre-come, he didn’t seem to mind, and that was all to the good.


Impatiently, he pulled her back up, rolled her onto her back, and took her. Rational and irrational thought both fled as he surrendered to the primal rhythm that drove each snap of his hips.


She wrapped her legs around him as he sank into her, arching to meet him, pulling him deeper, deeper. Who’d want to try to do magic at a moment like this? She banished the question as he thrust into her again, angling her hips until – yes, there.


Reality narrowed to a single, focused point. Nothing else existed but the wet heat that caressed him, the blinding ecstasy that shattered him.


The only thing that mattered was the driving rhythm inside her, around her. It was her. And she climbed it higher, higher, until there was nowhere else to go, and she lost herself in the glorious free fall.


He rolled to the side, taking her with him, both of them too spent to try to maintain their connection. Brushing her hair from her face, he kissed her tenderly, almost … apologetically.


Tears stung the back of her eyes at his kiss. She willed them away as she caressed his cheek.


Between them, they managed to slide under the covers before slipping into an unrestful afternoon nap, clinging to each other but feeling strangely alone.