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Aftermaths: Lily:
ericoides: ericoides
Rating: Um, PG?
Summary:
What if, instead of being born 20 years apart and attending school at Hogwarts, Severus and Hermione ended up together at Salem HS? And just to make things more complicated (because one can never have too much Snapish goodness), our Hermione analogue (named Isemay) visited a certain UK school for magic across the pond? Well, I had a blast writing that story, but they're only 16--17, so it doesn't for qualify this:)
But the sequel does---and, it's 10 years later, so it goes with the theme, yay. Plus I get to use a really corny opening;) It's originally written for LaTeX formatting, and that's a bear to convert to html, so I've excerpted chapter 2 below. I'm guessing it's roughly 3,000 words. (Emacs does line and character counts, but not words, sorry!)
Aftermaths: Lily
It was a dark and stormy night.
Not for him, the serene, silent beauty of snow; instead the weather
outside was absolutely filthy, a miserable mixture of sleet, icy rain
and with just enough slush to soak one's footgear. The well-heeled
wizard (literally as well as figuratively) had protego charms in his
boots, to prevent sodden footgear and frozen socks, but he was not
well-heeled; rather the reverse. The soles of his boots had nearly
separated from the uppers, and the worn leather would no longer hold a
charm.
But it didn't matter; he'd obtained some cheap booze (ah; the days of
Lucius' fine whiskey were long gone) and wouldn't need to go out in
rotten weather again. Ever. Today was his twenty-fifth birthday, and he
meant it to be his last.
In past years, he'd taken out that creased letter, written on an
anniversary of his entry into the world---his first gift of that
occasion in years; read it, and remembered, the events that followed
on not quite a twelvemonth later, queueing his memories and priming
the pump of his hopes with associated texts. But he'd not bothered
this time; his life had become unutterably grey, since his release
from prison, and as his physical health had improved, his spirits
sank, until at last he'd have concluded (if he'd cared enough to
speculate) that the dementors must have gotten him after all.
It just took a year or so for the effects to show up.
He knocked back a slug of the vile alcohol; then another. When at
last the drug began to warm even his icy feet, he contemplated the
other brew, sitting on the end table in the shabby living room. Picked
it up. Heard a banging on the door. Of course. In the farce of his
life, after weeks of isolation, some miserable soul would pick
right this moment to disturb his solitude. Ignore them, and drink his
potion? Or answer the door and get rid of them, and then return to
the business at hand?
He was strongly tempted to the former, but the latter made more
sense. Just in case. ---Just in case the fates had decided to laugh
at him one last time, and the do-gooder crashed her (and it was always
a her, it seemed) way in, and interfered.
Sighing, he staggered (drunker than he'd realized), to the door,
yanked it open, and said in his most arid tones: ``Go away.''
The dimunitive figure, who was clearly soaked (must be a muggle) stuck
its foot in the door and said, in a flat, irritating American twang,
``Good evening, Severus. Please let me in.''
He nearly groaned.
``No.''
And slammed the door on her, foot and all.
He heard a shriek of pain, and a frantic banging on the door.
``Severus! Lemme in!''
He pulled the door open. One advantage to living in this crappy
neighborhood: even if anyone did hear the altercation, no-one would
care. ``If you do not leave, I will bodily remove you,'' he said.
``You're gonna have to. I think you broke some bones in my foot,''
she moaned.
``Where is your wand, you stupid, interfering cow?''
``Ooooh, the Severus we know and love.'' Her teeth were chattering,
and tears---presumably of pain---mixed with the rain that soaked her
bushy mane and drenched her cloak. She picked up the injured foot,
and even drunk as he was, he could tell it hurt.
He took the opportunity to slam the door shut and stalk back to his
living room, and throw himself onto his worn couch. He picked up his
potion; sighed. She'd ruined the mood, entirely.
A few seconds later, the banging began again. ``Severus! Open up!''
Grimacing, he set the potion down, grabbed his wand, and opened the
door from the couch; she staggered in, limping. In the light, she
looked even more bedraggled than she had outside; exhausted as well,
with smudges under her eyes. She spotted the potion, and, much faster than
he would have expected, scooped it up, sniffed, and made for the tiny
kitchen.
``That's mine, you filthy mudblood cow---''
Moving extraordinarily rapidly for a witch with a broken foot, she
reached the sink and dumped it down. Ran water over it, and, just to
make absolutely certain he couldn't retrieve it, dumped a baking soda
chaser after it, to neutralize it.
``I guess,'' she said at last, ``that it was a good thing I took
that dream seriously.''
``You and your sodding dreams,'' he snarled. ``Why couldn't
you just leave me alone?''
``You know the old curse. You save someone's life, you're responsible
for them.''
``You never saved my life.''
She shrugged.
``Would you kindly fix this foot? It really hurts.''
She knew as well as he that he itched to tell her to fix it herself.
``Where is your wand?''
``At the port-key entry. My license had expired, and they were giving
me grief, and I told 'em I didn't have time to mess about; that I had
to go; and since my passport was ok, they were willing to let
me go. If they could keep the wand. I told 'em, fine. It kinda
surprised them, I think....''
``That,'' Severus retorted drily, ``I can imagine.''
``Oh, the joys of the muggle tube, not to mention rail---Merlin, Severus, if
I'd realized this place was two-hundred miles away from London
I think I would have tried harder to hang on it it.... I'm glad
I still had some pounds. Um, do you have anything to eat?''
``No.''
``Will you heal my foot?''
``I'm too drunk.''
``Do you have any pain potions?''
``You're welcome to look in the medicine cupboard.''
``What about a ferula?''
He sighed, and cast, and she relaxed, seating herself beside him.
``What do I have to do to get shut of you?''
``Convince me you're not gonna kill yourself, for a start.''
He ignored this.
``I'm out of mundane money, but I have a few galleons. Do you suppose
we could get carry-out delivered by floo?''
He flopped a hand towards the mantle. Rather gingerly, she walked
over and managed to find a directory; and by dint of a combination of
cajolery, bullying and playing lost tourist, managed to exchange most
of her remaining funds for a hot meal. Rummaged around for crockery
and cutlery (none matching) which, without a wand, she was forced to
wash muggle style. Divided the steaming tikka masala, breads, and
palak paneer onto two plates, handed him one, and sat down beside him
with the other, which she proceeded to gobble with all the avidity of
a starving rat.
Quite without intending to, he followed suit.
She dug out a toothbrush and after a short discussion, realized why he
kept his in a cup next to the drainboard. Returned,
handed him her toothpaste and floss (he hadn't any) and waited. He
ignored her. She tapped her foot. Grimacing, he stumped off. Upon
his return he said:
``You look like a drowned rat.''
``Thank you. You look as if you haven't washed your hair in weeks.''
``I probably haven't.''
``Well, I guess that's next then.''
``What's next?''
``A shower.'' He scowled. ``Or a bath; your choice.''
``Make me.''
``I will. Besides, I want one too. I'm still freezing.'' She got
up, and evidently successfully rummaged around his bathroom cupboard,
as she prudently came downstairs with a bottle, at which he nodded
before she chugged it down. ``That has to be the smallest bathroom I
think I've ever encountered.''
``Consider yourself fortunate: During my childhood I was grateful we did
not share our outdoor toilet with others; and we had no bathing
facilities at all.''
``Surely you jest.''
Severus shook his head.
``And I thought Cary was poor. Granted his father used an
outhouse, but by the time he was born his family certainly had a
bathroom indoors!''
``Welcome to Great Britain,'' Severus replied, ironically.
``So. What do I have to get you take a
shower?''
``Take it with me.''
``Fine.''
He choked and sputtered, spraying the last of their tea.
``Evidently attempted suicide has had a negative impact on my auditory
discrimination. I could've sworn you just agreed to take a shower
with me.''
``I'm freezing, Severus.''
``Sit down,'' he sighed. She did so, and he cast; drying charms on
her clothes, warming spells on her cloak, which he spread over them
(his was rags). Eventually, her shivering stopped, and she relaxed
against him. She was, he realized, drifting off. ``Wake up.''
``Uhhhm?''
``How long have you been up?''
``About---'' she looked blearily at the ticking clock, ``nineteen
hours.'' Roughly the same as he; she'd had her dream right at midnight
then. And now she'd collapsed on his sofa, snoring softly in
exhaustion. He stumped up the stairwell to the bedroom, thought about doing the
gentlemanly thing and giving her the bed; but he was tall and she
wasn't, and the couch was little better than a loveseat. Tired, he
drew off his boots, yanked off his clothes, dressed his worn grey
nightshirt (had he ever owned any other kind) and climbed into bed.
Five minutes later, he climbed back out of it, stumped back to the
living room, saw that she was already starting to shiver, picked her
up and dumped her into one side of the bed. (After removing her shoes,
and outer garments. It was big enough; he climbed in on the other
and fell asleep.)
When he awoke, he was not entiredly surprised to have a warm body
plastered to his back, an arm flung around his waist; the house had no
heat to speak of, save when he bothered to cast warming spells. He
shifted a little, and he rather fancied she woke; judging from the way
her arm tightened. A hug. When had he last received one of
those? Lily had given him one or two, when he'd staggered out
of Azkaban; he didn't remember much, but he thought she must've.
Surely...? He recalled James looking purse faced; whether over his
wretched condition or his wife's familiarities, he couldn't tell.
But this long, luxurious contact---when had he last had that?
Years.
Best not to get too attached then.
``You can cease mauling my person, now.''
``Not on your life. I'll freeze.''
So much for that sally.
``If you remove that arm, I can reach my wand, and light a fire.''
``Uh-huh.''
``I'm not,'' he said in his most caustic tones, ``that foul
potioning boyfriend of yours.''
``Oh no,'' she agreed sleepily, tightening her hold.
He gave it up, and relaxed for awhile. Eventually, she fell asleep
again. Now sober, he mended her foot. He rummaged through her
minimal luggage, extracted another potion she had that he didn't, made
some overdue ablutions, and, still rather awake, climbed back into
bed.
She woke up, and regarded him quietly, his pallid complection made
even more so by the sickly light the muggle streetlamps cast through
limp curtains.
He stared back at her for some time, before finally speaking.
``What, no bubbling plans? Words of wisdom? Inspirational
messages?''
She shook her head, seeming to look past him; out to the dreary scene
through the grimy window. ``Not at the present time.''
``Can it be, the bossy know-it-all, bereft of speech?''
Isemay continued to look bleakly out the window.
``If you're going to pollute my presence, you could at least do me the
courtesy of responding to my barbs.''
That got a smile; a small one, but a smile, and crinkled eyes. ``Oh,
Severus---''
He glared at her.
``Well; that's just what I mean. You know what I'll say; how I'll
sound. I haven't changed all that much in the last eight years---not
really. I was going to school when you first knew me; and I'm still
going to school.
``You on the other hand, have lived as a deep-cover mole,
brought down a monster, been convicted of crimes you didn't commit,
and suffered torture and imprisonment that I can scarcely conceive.
``What on earth am I to say to that?''
``Why did you bother coming, then?''
``I--- I---'' she shifted restlessly in the bed, clearly restraining
herself from getting closer. ``I didn't think,
as you know. I just came. I never got beyond the hope that I
could---'' she broke off, blushing.
He traced his lips, and regarded her with a sardonic expression.
``Well, go on.''
``Perhaps... a hug?''
``And you think that will--- what was the phrase again? fix
things?''
``Mend them?'' she said, a quirk to her lips. ``No. But help you
feel the tiniest bit better, yes; I hoped.''
Now it was his turn to turn away; to look bleakly out the window. He
lay with his back to her, watching grey mizzle leave snaking trails on
the dirty bed-room window glazing. After a while, light as a
raptor's feather, soft as fur, he felt a touch, on his shoulder.
Eventually he spoke.
``I saw Lily, you know. Her, and James, and the baby. He's four
now. After I got out, and was feeling better. You know, I knew, when
she married him, that... was the end. Of my hopes. Well; I knew
it was hopeless, pretty much, when they got engaged\ldots they didn't
even wait to sit their NEWTs---''
``And that's when you decided to infiltrate Voldemort's
organization,'' Isemay said quietly.
``Something needed to be done. Sirius had some idea he was
going to redeem his house---we could barely stand the sight of each
other, yet ended up providing almost exactly what the other needed.
Or rather, I provided what Black needed.
``All I needed was not to get killed, I suppose.
``Though it would've been nice not to have watched all those
other people not get killed, too.''
``Oh, Severus,'' she sighed, wrapping her arms around him; from
behind.
``It could've been worse.'' Pushed another memory of a dying man
away; then twisted in her embrace, so that she faced him; and began to
play with her hair. ``I had this picture---mental map, if you
will---of Lily. How she looked, how she sounded, how she'd act or
react to a given situation.
``I did listen to you. Odd as it may seem, some of the things you said, did
sink in. Watching her, with the baby, but especially with James\ldots
I realized... I didn't know her. That I never really had. That
the Lily I loved was some sort of phantasm, a distortion of the real
woman. My Lily didn't get away; she never existed in the first
place.''
Isemay tightened her hold upon him.
``Bad enough to have loved and lost; so much worse to realize what
you'd predicted years ago; that I was living a lie. Now...'' he
said slowly, ``I don't even know what to look for.''
He turned to face her, and she stroked the hair away from his face,
tucking it behind his ears. (Useless gesture; it would just slip free
again, even though it was, for the nonce, clean, thanks to his nicking
her shampoo.)
``I--- Gave up, then. I suppose. I knew, once Lily married James,
that she was beyond my reach; but I assumed---foolishly I
daresay---that I could---perhaps---find someone else. A bit like.
``That some day, some one would hold me, if not with
love, than at least with more affection than the kind coins purchase,
or duty the dark lord's parties demanded.
``But if she was only my imagination, my---'' his lips twisted in
disdain, ``fevered dream, then what was the point? No real woman
could match a dream.''
``I'm not her; but I'll hold you in affection,'' Isemay said
quietly.
``I dare say. And what, might I ask, does that disgusting potions maker
have to say about this? Not to mention a certain witch who lectured
me, rather roundly, as I recall, about betrayal?''
``He dreamed too.''
Severus jerked away, hissing.
``He did,'' she insisted.
``Of me?''
``No. Yes. Of me. Begging him, instead of Tyler Henderson, to save
the book. The John Dee volume.'' The text that she'd claimed had
been destroyed, first to save his not-twin, his light reflection; and
then his dark self. ``And so,'' she said, ``he found my passport and
stuffed some potions and underwear into a bag while I dithered, and
teleported me to the international portkey point and put the
outrageous last-minute fees on the department's credit card (I shudder to
think what trouble that's gonna cause,) and told me not worry
about my expired wand license, and just go.''
``A man in a million.''
``Yes.''
``You know I'm going to do more than hold you.''
``Oh, yes.''
And he did.
A/N: if you've enjoyed this piece (which I think does work relatively well on its own) here's the rest of the story (as a pdf, sorry). It's not particularly graphic, but if stuff like homosexuality, fluid gender identities and sex falling outside of vanilla het icks you out, it's probably not for you, because these themes do crop up. Oh, and the occasional lashings of those four letter anglo-saxon words.
If like me the though of starting in the middle bothers you far more than the thought of, say, a kinky threesome, here's the page for Hidden Magick. (Those of you hoping for heavy duty smut and kinky threesomes are, alas, also likely to be disappointed.) If you're wanting to chart a middle course, rather than plowing through all 150K words or so, the Severus only parts would be chapters 1, 13, and 39, and most especially section V (chapters 41--44). (Ch 39 also more or less summarizes the american bits, though it is, of course, spoilerish for them. Reading this way also gets you past some sexual assault (sort of like SWM), the underaged sex (sorry, I wrote teenagers the way I observe them, not the way we grownups would like them to behave) and references to child abuse (I think we all realize Sev had a rough childhood).)
Thanks for giving me a chance to post! I've worked hard on these stories, and would like to think someone else would enjoy them. ---ericoides.
ericoides: ericoides
Rating: Um, PG?
Summary:
What if, instead of being born 20 years apart and attending school at Hogwarts, Severus and Hermione ended up together at Salem HS? And just to make things more complicated (because one can never have too much Snapish goodness), our Hermione analogue (named Isemay) visited a certain UK school for magic across the pond? Well, I had a blast writing that story, but they're only 16--17, so it doesn't for qualify this:)
But the sequel does---and, it's 10 years later, so it goes with the theme, yay. Plus I get to use a really corny opening;) It's originally written for LaTeX formatting, and that's a bear to convert to html, so I've excerpted chapter 2 below. I'm guessing it's roughly 3,000 words. (Emacs does line and character counts, but not words, sorry!)
Aftermaths: Lily
It was a dark and stormy night.
Not for him, the serene, silent beauty of snow; instead the weather
outside was absolutely filthy, a miserable mixture of sleet, icy rain
and with just enough slush to soak one's footgear. The well-heeled
wizard (literally as well as figuratively) had protego charms in his
boots, to prevent sodden footgear and frozen socks, but he was not
well-heeled; rather the reverse. The soles of his boots had nearly
separated from the uppers, and the worn leather would no longer hold a
charm.
But it didn't matter; he'd obtained some cheap booze (ah; the days of
Lucius' fine whiskey were long gone) and wouldn't need to go out in
rotten weather again. Ever. Today was his twenty-fifth birthday, and he
meant it to be his last.
In past years, he'd taken out that creased letter, written on an
anniversary of his entry into the world---his first gift of that
occasion in years; read it, and remembered, the events that followed
on not quite a twelvemonth later, queueing his memories and priming
the pump of his hopes with associated texts. But he'd not bothered
this time; his life had become unutterably grey, since his release
from prison, and as his physical health had improved, his spirits
sank, until at last he'd have concluded (if he'd cared enough to
speculate) that the dementors must have gotten him after all.
It just took a year or so for the effects to show up.
He knocked back a slug of the vile alcohol; then another. When at
last the drug began to warm even his icy feet, he contemplated the
other brew, sitting on the end table in the shabby living room. Picked
it up. Heard a banging on the door. Of course. In the farce of his
life, after weeks of isolation, some miserable soul would pick
right this moment to disturb his solitude. Ignore them, and drink his
potion? Or answer the door and get rid of them, and then return to
the business at hand?
He was strongly tempted to the former, but the latter made more
sense. Just in case. ---Just in case the fates had decided to laugh
at him one last time, and the do-gooder crashed her (and it was always
a her, it seemed) way in, and interfered.
Sighing, he staggered (drunker than he'd realized), to the door,
yanked it open, and said in his most arid tones: ``Go away.''
The dimunitive figure, who was clearly soaked (must be a muggle) stuck
its foot in the door and said, in a flat, irritating American twang,
``Good evening, Severus. Please let me in.''
He nearly groaned.
``No.''
And slammed the door on her, foot and all.
He heard a shriek of pain, and a frantic banging on the door.
``Severus! Lemme in!''
He pulled the door open. One advantage to living in this crappy
neighborhood: even if anyone did hear the altercation, no-one would
care. ``If you do not leave, I will bodily remove you,'' he said.
``You're gonna have to. I think you broke some bones in my foot,''
she moaned.
``Where is your wand, you stupid, interfering cow?''
``Ooooh, the Severus we know and love.'' Her teeth were chattering,
and tears---presumably of pain---mixed with the rain that soaked her
bushy mane and drenched her cloak. She picked up the injured foot,
and even drunk as he was, he could tell it hurt.
He took the opportunity to slam the door shut and stalk back to his
living room, and throw himself onto his worn couch. He picked up his
potion; sighed. She'd ruined the mood, entirely.
A few seconds later, the banging began again. ``Severus! Open up!''
Grimacing, he set the potion down, grabbed his wand, and opened the
door from the couch; she staggered in, limping. In the light, she
looked even more bedraggled than she had outside; exhausted as well,
with smudges under her eyes. She spotted the potion, and, much faster than
he would have expected, scooped it up, sniffed, and made for the tiny
kitchen.
``That's mine, you filthy mudblood cow---''
Moving extraordinarily rapidly for a witch with a broken foot, she
reached the sink and dumped it down. Ran water over it, and, just to
make absolutely certain he couldn't retrieve it, dumped a baking soda
chaser after it, to neutralize it.
``I guess,'' she said at last, ``that it was a good thing I took
that dream seriously.''
``You and your sodding dreams,'' he snarled. ``Why couldn't
you just leave me alone?''
``You know the old curse. You save someone's life, you're responsible
for them.''
``You never saved my life.''
She shrugged.
``Would you kindly fix this foot? It really hurts.''
She knew as well as he that he itched to tell her to fix it herself.
``Where is your wand?''
``At the port-key entry. My license had expired, and they were giving
me grief, and I told 'em I didn't have time to mess about; that I had
to go; and since my passport was ok, they were willing to let
me go. If they could keep the wand. I told 'em, fine. It kinda
surprised them, I think....''
``That,'' Severus retorted drily, ``I can imagine.''
``Oh, the joys of the muggle tube, not to mention rail---Merlin, Severus, if
I'd realized this place was two-hundred miles away from London
I think I would have tried harder to hang on it it.... I'm glad
I still had some pounds. Um, do you have anything to eat?''
``No.''
``Will you heal my foot?''
``I'm too drunk.''
``Do you have any pain potions?''
``You're welcome to look in the medicine cupboard.''
``What about a ferula?''
He sighed, and cast, and she relaxed, seating herself beside him.
``What do I have to do to get shut of you?''
``Convince me you're not gonna kill yourself, for a start.''
He ignored this.
``I'm out of mundane money, but I have a few galleons. Do you suppose
we could get carry-out delivered by floo?''
He flopped a hand towards the mantle. Rather gingerly, she walked
over and managed to find a directory; and by dint of a combination of
cajolery, bullying and playing lost tourist, managed to exchange most
of her remaining funds for a hot meal. Rummaged around for crockery
and cutlery (none matching) which, without a wand, she was forced to
wash muggle style. Divided the steaming tikka masala, breads, and
palak paneer onto two plates, handed him one, and sat down beside him
with the other, which she proceeded to gobble with all the avidity of
a starving rat.
Quite without intending to, he followed suit.
She dug out a toothbrush and after a short discussion, realized why he
kept his in a cup next to the drainboard. Returned,
handed him her toothpaste and floss (he hadn't any) and waited. He
ignored her. She tapped her foot. Grimacing, he stumped off. Upon
his return he said:
``You look like a drowned rat.''
``Thank you. You look as if you haven't washed your hair in weeks.''
``I probably haven't.''
``Well, I guess that's next then.''
``What's next?''
``A shower.'' He scowled. ``Or a bath; your choice.''
``Make me.''
``I will. Besides, I want one too. I'm still freezing.'' She got
up, and evidently successfully rummaged around his bathroom cupboard,
as she prudently came downstairs with a bottle, at which he nodded
before she chugged it down. ``That has to be the smallest bathroom I
think I've ever encountered.''
``Consider yourself fortunate: During my childhood I was grateful we did
not share our outdoor toilet with others; and we had no bathing
facilities at all.''
``Surely you jest.''
Severus shook his head.
``And I thought Cary was poor. Granted his father used an
outhouse, but by the time he was born his family certainly had a
bathroom indoors!''
``Welcome to Great Britain,'' Severus replied, ironically.
``So. What do I have to get you take a
shower?''
``Take it with me.''
``Fine.''
He choked and sputtered, spraying the last of their tea.
``Evidently attempted suicide has had a negative impact on my auditory
discrimination. I could've sworn you just agreed to take a shower
with me.''
``I'm freezing, Severus.''
``Sit down,'' he sighed. She did so, and he cast; drying charms on
her clothes, warming spells on her cloak, which he spread over them
(his was rags). Eventually, her shivering stopped, and she relaxed
against him. She was, he realized, drifting off. ``Wake up.''
``Uhhhm?''
``How long have you been up?''
``About---'' she looked blearily at the ticking clock, ``nineteen
hours.'' Roughly the same as he; she'd had her dream right at midnight
then. And now she'd collapsed on his sofa, snoring softly in
exhaustion. He stumped up the stairwell to the bedroom, thought about doing the
gentlemanly thing and giving her the bed; but he was tall and she
wasn't, and the couch was little better than a loveseat. Tired, he
drew off his boots, yanked off his clothes, dressed his worn grey
nightshirt (had he ever owned any other kind) and climbed into bed.
Five minutes later, he climbed back out of it, stumped back to the
living room, saw that she was already starting to shiver, picked her
up and dumped her into one side of the bed. (After removing her shoes,
and outer garments. It was big enough; he climbed in on the other
and fell asleep.)
When he awoke, he was not entiredly surprised to have a warm body
plastered to his back, an arm flung around his waist; the house had no
heat to speak of, save when he bothered to cast warming spells. He
shifted a little, and he rather fancied she woke; judging from the way
her arm tightened. A hug. When had he last received one of
those? Lily had given him one or two, when he'd staggered out
of Azkaban; he didn't remember much, but he thought she must've.
Surely...? He recalled James looking purse faced; whether over his
wretched condition or his wife's familiarities, he couldn't tell.
But this long, luxurious contact---when had he last had that?
Years.
Best not to get too attached then.
``You can cease mauling my person, now.''
``Not on your life. I'll freeze.''
So much for that sally.
``If you remove that arm, I can reach my wand, and light a fire.''
``Uh-huh.''
``I'm not,'' he said in his most caustic tones, ``that foul
potioning boyfriend of yours.''
``Oh no,'' she agreed sleepily, tightening her hold.
He gave it up, and relaxed for awhile. Eventually, she fell asleep
again. Now sober, he mended her foot. He rummaged through her
minimal luggage, extracted another potion she had that he didn't, made
some overdue ablutions, and, still rather awake, climbed back into
bed.
She woke up, and regarded him quietly, his pallid complection made
even more so by the sickly light the muggle streetlamps cast through
limp curtains.
He stared back at her for some time, before finally speaking.
``What, no bubbling plans? Words of wisdom? Inspirational
messages?''
She shook her head, seeming to look past him; out to the dreary scene
through the grimy window. ``Not at the present time.''
``Can it be, the bossy know-it-all, bereft of speech?''
Isemay continued to look bleakly out the window.
``If you're going to pollute my presence, you could at least do me the
courtesy of responding to my barbs.''
That got a smile; a small one, but a smile, and crinkled eyes. ``Oh,
Severus---''
He glared at her.
``Well; that's just what I mean. You know what I'll say; how I'll
sound. I haven't changed all that much in the last eight years---not
really. I was going to school when you first knew me; and I'm still
going to school.
``You on the other hand, have lived as a deep-cover mole,
brought down a monster, been convicted of crimes you didn't commit,
and suffered torture and imprisonment that I can scarcely conceive.
``What on earth am I to say to that?''
``Why did you bother coming, then?''
``I--- I---'' she shifted restlessly in the bed, clearly restraining
herself from getting closer. ``I didn't think,
as you know. I just came. I never got beyond the hope that I
could---'' she broke off, blushing.
He traced his lips, and regarded her with a sardonic expression.
``Well, go on.''
``Perhaps... a hug?''
``And you think that will--- what was the phrase again? fix
things?''
``Mend them?'' she said, a quirk to her lips. ``No. But help you
feel the tiniest bit better, yes; I hoped.''
Now it was his turn to turn away; to look bleakly out the window. He
lay with his back to her, watching grey mizzle leave snaking trails on
the dirty bed-room window glazing. After a while, light as a
raptor's feather, soft as fur, he felt a touch, on his shoulder.
Eventually he spoke.
``I saw Lily, you know. Her, and James, and the baby. He's four
now. After I got out, and was feeling better. You know, I knew, when
she married him, that... was the end. Of my hopes. Well; I knew
it was hopeless, pretty much, when they got engaged\ldots they didn't
even wait to sit their NEWTs---''
``And that's when you decided to infiltrate Voldemort's
organization,'' Isemay said quietly.
``Something needed to be done. Sirius had some idea he was
going to redeem his house---we could barely stand the sight of each
other, yet ended up providing almost exactly what the other needed.
Or rather, I provided what Black needed.
``All I needed was not to get killed, I suppose.
``Though it would've been nice not to have watched all those
other people not get killed, too.''
``Oh, Severus,'' she sighed, wrapping her arms around him; from
behind.
``It could've been worse.'' Pushed another memory of a dying man
away; then twisted in her embrace, so that she faced him; and began to
play with her hair. ``I had this picture---mental map, if you
will---of Lily. How she looked, how she sounded, how she'd act or
react to a given situation.
``I did listen to you. Odd as it may seem, some of the things you said, did
sink in. Watching her, with the baby, but especially with James\ldots
I realized... I didn't know her. That I never really had. That
the Lily I loved was some sort of phantasm, a distortion of the real
woman. My Lily didn't get away; she never existed in the first
place.''
Isemay tightened her hold upon him.
``Bad enough to have loved and lost; so much worse to realize what
you'd predicted years ago; that I was living a lie. Now...'' he
said slowly, ``I don't even know what to look for.''
He turned to face her, and she stroked the hair away from his face,
tucking it behind his ears. (Useless gesture; it would just slip free
again, even though it was, for the nonce, clean, thanks to his nicking
her shampoo.)
``I--- Gave up, then. I suppose. I knew, once Lily married James,
that she was beyond my reach; but I assumed---foolishly I
daresay---that I could---perhaps---find someone else. A bit like.
``That some day, some one would hold me, if not with
love, than at least with more affection than the kind coins purchase,
or duty the dark lord's parties demanded.
``But if she was only my imagination, my---'' his lips twisted in
disdain, ``fevered dream, then what was the point? No real woman
could match a dream.''
``I'm not her; but I'll hold you in affection,'' Isemay said
quietly.
``I dare say. And what, might I ask, does that disgusting potions maker
have to say about this? Not to mention a certain witch who lectured
me, rather roundly, as I recall, about betrayal?''
``He dreamed too.''
Severus jerked away, hissing.
``He did,'' she insisted.
``Of me?''
``No. Yes. Of me. Begging him, instead of Tyler Henderson, to save
the book. The John Dee volume.'' The text that she'd claimed had
been destroyed, first to save his not-twin, his light reflection; and
then his dark self. ``And so,'' she said, ``he found my passport and
stuffed some potions and underwear into a bag while I dithered, and
teleported me to the international portkey point and put the
outrageous last-minute fees on the department's credit card (I shudder to
think what trouble that's gonna cause,) and told me not worry
about my expired wand license, and just go.''
``A man in a million.''
``Yes.''
``You know I'm going to do more than hold you.''
``Oh, yes.''
And he did.
A/N: if you've enjoyed this piece (which I think does work relatively well on its own) here's the rest of the story (as a pdf, sorry). It's not particularly graphic, but if stuff like homosexuality, fluid gender identities and sex falling outside of vanilla het icks you out, it's probably not for you, because these themes do crop up. Oh, and the occasional lashings of those four letter anglo-saxon words.
If like me the though of starting in the middle bothers you far more than the thought of, say, a kinky threesome, here's the page for Hidden Magick. (Those of you hoping for heavy duty smut and kinky threesomes are, alas, also likely to be disappointed.) If you're wanting to chart a middle course, rather than plowing through all 150K words or so, the Severus only parts would be chapters 1, 13, and 39, and most especially section V (chapters 41--44). (Ch 39 also more or less summarizes the american bits, though it is, of course, spoilerish for them. Reading this way also gets you past some sexual assault (sort of like SWM), the underaged sex (sorry, I wrote teenagers the way I observe them, not the way we grownups would like them to behave) and references to child abuse (I think we all realize Sev had a rough childhood).)
Thanks for giving me a chance to post! I've worked hard on these stories, and would like to think someone else would enjoy them. ---ericoides.