700Chapter 50: Ch III,44: Of Truths and Certainties
A/N: So, this is the place where the story earns the M rating. Also, it's about ten minutes to Monday in my time zone, so I'm technically not late with the chapter! Life was extremely packed with friends and relatives in the last ten days, so final editing of the chapter had to suffer a bit for it. But the next one should be on schedule on the 12th of January.
Chapter 44: Of Truths and Certainties
The journal and accompanying materials had caught Severus completely off-guard, when Mickey had delivered them on the eve of Severus' birthday, completely side-tracking all of his focus away from what was to happen on the morrow. Luckily, at least the Veritaserum had been completed days before, so there wasn't too much damage done by that distraction in a practical sense.
Lily's instructions on the journal were elaborate, and sounded extremely complicated. Severus ensconced himself in his laboratory and spent the evening reading through everything as he attempted to wrap his mind around the layers of protection she'd come up with, in awe of both the creativity and the level of magic it must have taken to get them working.
That flame of hope which had burned out with the incomprehension in her eyes at the sight of his Patronus reignited again, because the effort which must have gone into making these journals on time for his seventeenth birthday had to mean something – it simply had to, though he had no clue what exactly that might be. So he spent the evening scribbling squiggles onto a piece of parchment, almost manic with the need to learn the basics of stenography in order to be able to communicate with her.
Nevertheless, once he'd primed the journal's wards and put quill to paper, what came out was not the hope but the fear, that he'd misunderstood, that he was being tricked, that it wouldn't work, and the first message he wrote to her wasn't gratitude for the present, or a plea for understanding, or anger at her rejection, it was a completely idiotic question that nonetheless encompassed everything he was feeling.
Is it you, Lily?
He wasn't sure, in the end, sneaking back into the Slytherin Dorm at two in the morning, whether he was angry, frightened or resigned that she'd asked for even more time and that he'd given it to her. He hadn't wanted to do it, hadn't wanted to prolong the agony of waiting for her rejection. And at the same time, her request kept that flame of hope from being snuffed out again, because asking for time wasn't a rejection, not by a long shot.
The fact that she needed time to figure anything out already told him most all he needed to know, and it hurt, that he'd been right, that she was in love with James Potter, it hurt so much he wanted to howl his anguish like some haunting spectre. And that, in the end, was what had decided it for him, because tomorrow was going to be one of the hardest days of his life, and he needed to be able to focus fully, needed to be able to put her out of his mind – her, their nebulous relationship, and the thought of losing her to his biggest enemy. Not granting her request for more time would have meant meeting with her tomorrow about it, or even worse, reading her answer through blank, emotionless words hidden among potioneering sentences, and he knew that he'd not be able to convince himself in that case that things were still as they'd been over the hols, so that he could focus on what was to come.
So he resolved to packing it all away until his initiation mission was completed, resolved himself to ignoring that flicker of hope when he couldn't douse it again, and went to bed – but not before finding himself driven to do something to fight for her, one last time, even if it was utterly insignificant, utterly emotionless.
How did things go with your parents? I presume you and Petunia have made up, given the textbook I'm to memorise.
I have a mission for our cause tomorrow; if all goes to plan, the last four months will have paid off.
He didn't understand why he told her of the mission; he only knew that he was driven by something deeper and more desperate than he'd been able to explain, and that the very act of telling her made the burden more bearable and left him wondering if not telling her about that part of his life had been the wrong impulse to follow all these months.
When Lily woke up the morning of Severus' birthday, the sun was already high up in the sky and the dorm was completely deserted. It took her only moments to remember the terse conversation of last night, her mind telling her it was terse because Severus had never before used stenography, her heart insisting it was because he was still too hurt by her.
She had no right to contact him further, not until she'd sorted herself out, and she knew it; that he'd given her three extra weeks was already a huge concession on his part, after the hurt she'd caused him, and she was relieved and grateful in equal measure. Now if only she could figure her own stupid emotional conflicts out... in truth, all she wanted was have them back to how they were before – before his Patronus, before James Potter, before the secrecy and the separation – no matter how much she knew that this was no longer an option.
She couldn't help herself from going back to their conversation and rereading it. It really hadn't been much at all, but it had been so much more than she could have dreamed when she'd fled his laboratory right before the hols. She bit her lip as she studied his few words of answer, wishing that she could see his handwriting to judge his state of mind. She turned the page more out of thoughtlessness than reason; the text on the other side caught her eye immediately and made her heart beat frantically in her chest as she parsed out his words, the question about her hols, the message about his mission.
Lily ran her finger over her bleeding lip to remove the little piece of skin she'd torn off in her nervous habit of biting it, the tang of copper strong on her tongue when she swiped it over her lip, her mind turning his words round and round in her head. What did the mission mean? Was it dangerous? Did Dumbledore know Severus was doing this, or was he doing it of his own initiative?
And an undercurrent to it all was a buoying, gentle glow of happiness at the fact that he'd communicated, he'd told her about it, he'd asked after her parents even though her leaving had wounded him. He'd even wanted to know about Petunia, though they detested each other. The hope sprang up like weed in her heart, hope that they'd be all right in the end, hope that no matter what her answer to him would be, they'd find a way of moving on, of keeping their relationship alive. But she needed to figure out what that answer was first, and the first step to it would be finding a way of resolving this whole Patronus mess.
Whatever issue Severus had with her knowing of his doe, Lily felt like she wouldn't be able to understand it until she'd managed to produce her own corporeal one. Given that she couldn't find any significance to the actual shape of Severus' Patronus, she was forced to conclude that it had to do with whatever memories it was constructed of. If nothing else, she thought she had a good idea of the memories Severus would have used: those of them together. It was the only thing that she could think of, considering his reticence to share this experience with her, though it still didn't make a lick of sense to her since the Patronus was always the same shape no matter who featured in the memory it was constructed of, and it wasn't like anyone could actually see the memory in question from it in the first place.
Deciding that she wasn't too hungry anyway, she skipped breakfast for her Patronus book after her shower and tried to find an answer to the reason why she'd not yet managed to discover its corporeal form.
The Patronus Charm needed strong, happy memories. She'd assumed it meant those that were strongest in her mind, therefore relatively recent ones, but as that had failed her until now, there had to be more to it. After all, the book didn't specify the age of the memory or the circumstance; rather, it emphasised the happiness necessarily attached to it. She decided to give it a try with an old, fuzzy memory of one of the happiest moments of her childhood. She thought of the joy she'd felt when she'd first seen Hogwarts across the Black Lake, the realisation that she really, truly was a witch, the way that whole evening had felt like a dream. The mist that coalesced was thick, but still just a mist, and she let her hold of the spell go with a sigh.
Something more personal, perhaps? Where did she draw her biggest strength from? Images of her friends rose up in her mind, Severus and Remus on the beach, Mary and Bettina laughing at James' stories, Clotilde giving her a proud smile during her initiation into the DDS, laying on the cottage couch with her legs in Alice's lap. Yes, if any memory would work, it was going to be one tied to her friends, not to her magic – after all, the first time she'd managed to conjure the incorporeal form, it was by thinking of the morning after getting drunk with her two best friends. But remembering that brought up something else to the forefront of her mind, too.
"What was so happy about that morning, though?"
"I don't know. I think maybe it was that I felt really good after a long while; with how things are becoming these days, I just... it feels good to remember my silly teenage girl moments. I miss being carefree."
"I wonder if the sense of joy you feel at a memory is affected by your current mood. Maybe it's about the contrast, or maybe it's that things are more relative than we thought them to be."
Lily turned Remus' speculation around in her head. Maybe it wasn't about the contrast to the current state of being; maybe it was about the contrast to the state of being in which the memory had been made. The emotions tied to these memories were always so much stronger than average because what she'd felt right before had been the polar opposite. As the Patronus Charm served primarily as defence against Dark creatures that fed on emotions, such as Dementors and Lethifolds, it made quite a bit of sense – absence of positive emotions left one feeling despondent, despairing, depressed. Lily remembered her own momentary downs and what had lifted her out of them. It was why she'd started fancying James, she thought, because he'd made her laugh, he'd made the gloom and darkness of her position as regarded Severus and Dumbledore and their quest easier to bear. She tried to conjure a Patronus by using the memories of stories James had told her, that had made her laugh the hardest.
The mist of her Patronus seemed quite similar to the mist just moments before, no stronger.
Huffing, she sat back against the headboard and tried to completely rethink everything she was doing. Because she was doing something wrong, she could feel it in her bones every time she finished the circling wand movement, her natural instinct for charmwork flaring up. What was she missing?
Severus was the only one in her social circle who'd managed to conjure it so far. Bloody hell, why couldn't she have put aside her hurt over him not wanting her to see his Patronus when she'd had the chance to at least let him guide her in theory? Because he would've, she knew, he loved lecturing and he loved magical theory, and if she'd focused on that instead of what he wouldn't share with her, then not only would she have likely understood her problem now, they also wouldn't have fought in November and she wouldn't have been so bloody susceptible to James' advances, and then he wouldn't have ended up so hurt and she wouldn't have ended up between this idiotic rock and a hard place she was at now.
But she'd been stupid and self-centred in her hurt over him not trusting her, and now here she was, needing to figure this out in order to have all the facts so as not to make another mistake and lose him because of it. Tugging her metaphorical big-girl trousers back on, she thought back to the one time they had spoken of the Patronus Charm, in that tunnel beneath Hogsmeade. What had he said back then?
"All-pervading. Momentary emotions usually don't have enough power behind them for beginners. First time's always the hardest."
"Doubt."
What did Severus mean when he said 'all-pervading'? It was such an odd word to use, Lily thought. Did he mean it in the sense of eclipsing all other emotions in that specific moment? Did he mean the emotion that stayed attached to the memory while all others faded? Did he mean an emotion that connected multiple memories?
This was the key, she could almost taste it. All-pervading. Was there any time in her life that she could attach the adjective 'all-pervading' to?
With a start, the information resolved into comprehension – it wasn't about remembering the emotion and memory, it was about reliving it! Flashbacks were the strongest of memories, so powerful that one lost themself in them fully. She'd lived through that countless times already, in her Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore, when he'd penetrate her mind and bring up the memories to the surface. And in those moments, she'd always felt utterly eclipsed by the emotions of the memories, so much so that she'd cried more in his presence than even in her parents' combined.
With new determination, certain that this time it would work because there was no room for doubt at all in her mind that she'd gotten it right, Lily let herself remember that feeling during her Occlumency practice, of being completely immersed in the memory, and thought of the happiest moment she could come up with related to her friends, without truly thinking of any one memory specifically, trusting that whatever she needed would come to her.
It was the emotion of only hours before that rose up like a tidal wave, the relief of Severus' response, the joy of having succeeded in making the journals, the hope that it'd all turn out all right in the end. And with it came another memory, of Severus holding her tightly and rocking her while she cried in his arms last June, of him keeping her together when she thought she'd fly into a million pieces and never find herself whole again.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silver Patronus burst out of her wand fully formed, to stand by her bedside at eye-level with her, a beautiful, elegant doe with gentle eyes and big ears. Like she'd been three weeks ago, Lily was mesmerised again by the majestic, gentle animal that observed her watchfully, and this time, when she found herself extending her hand forward, the doe walked up and butted her nose against Lily's fingers, so that she could see the construct was strangely solid in spite of its viscosity, and that touching it, petting it oh-so-gently made Lily feel warm all over, made the memory rise back up in her mind, the safety and joy and hope in spite of fear that the doe was made of.
And then the understanding, the realisation crashed into her like a freight train, and the doe winked out of existence as Lily's arm fell limply into her lap, as her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a soundless exclamation of shock, because it was a doe, it was just like Severus', exactly like it.
Scrambling for her book, she leafed through it frenziedly, desperate for the answer she knew was in it, her heart beating a thousand times a minute, her throat tightening with every second that she failed to find what she was looking for, every second that she didn't have the answer.
Finally, after almost tearing pages out in her viciousness and haste, she found the passage she remembered, and read and reread it over and over again, trying to wrap her brain around it, trying to figure it all out.
The form of one's Patronus is changeable even after its initial summoning. When summoned by those extremely young, often before puberty, it changes shape with each summoning depending on the child's mood and the memory of its construct. The form normally settles as the spellcaster's individuality fully asserts itself, such that the shape of the Patronus reflects the inner shape of one's personality and thoughts, especially those tied to positivity in one's life. This school of thought holds that this is the reason why mentally unbalanced, deficient or damaged individuals are unable to summon a Patronus.
There is another school of thought, however, that holds the Patronus is not simply a physical manifestation of one's individuality, but rather that it reflects one's very soul. This school of thought holds that this is the reason why those heavily tainted by Dark Magic and evil deeds are unable to summon a Patronus. It also finds justification for its belief in the fact that the most common reason for one's Patronus changing form is for the soul to have been touched by another – this is most often the case in mated couples, where it is almost invariably the truth that the Patronus of one partner will change shape into the Patronus of the other partner if the love between the couple has had an uncommonly momentous effect on the one whose Patronus has changed. While there is supposition that the second partner's Patronus might also change shape into the first partner's Patronus, thus in essence the couple swapping their Patronuses, this is only based on anecdotal evidence and has not been confirmed with a known case study. The two schools of thought have different explanations for this...
For a moment, Lily's mind was utterly blank, unable to comprehend the enormity of what she'd learned. Though in theory it could have been the other way around, she knew, could feel it to her very core, that the doe was her Patronus, and that, though she'd felt it suited him so well, Severus' doe wasn't, in fact, his, that it had changed shape to reflect hers.
Her stomach bottomed out and she had to grab hold of the bedpost as stars began flickering behind her eyes and the room went fuzzy around the edges. The words of the book ricocheted around her mind, amplifying themselves and echoing until she couldn't even distinguish them anymore. It is almost invariably the truth that the Patronus of one partner will change shape into the Patronus of the other partner if the love between the couple has had an uncommonly momentous effect on the one whose Patronus has changed.
And oh God, now it all made perfect sense, why Severus had been so protective of his Patronus shape, why he'd been so devastated when she'd seen it and not understood. It was because he loved her beyond wildest imagination, beyond comprehension, because that love had shaped him, had changed him. Everything, everything that had passed between them in the last nine months slotted itself into place, like a puzzle whose picture was suddenly revealed by one little piece being positioned just right. Now she understood how and why, now she finally, finally understood it, and it was so overwhelming she thought she'd faint.
Something hot and foreign ignited in her chest, making it tight all around, and she burst into tears and laughter at the same time, unable to control herself or even properly think, really, under the onslaught of the emotions coursing through her, so many of them she had no clue how to parse them out, how to cradle them and identify them, emotions familiar like distant echoes and emotions she didn't think she'd ever felt before, emotions she'd been ignoring and pushing away and pretending she'd not felt in the dead of night, when she was between sleeping and waking, and emotions too she'd never known one could feel.
Or maybe they were one and the same; she couldn't tell anymore.
She cried and laughed for the enormity of the realisation, for the horror of six months of silence she'd put Severus through, for the desperation of not knowing her own feelings for him, for the heartbreak of perhaps breaking his heart. And she cried and laughed for other things too, for the knowledge that someone existed in the world who could love her that much, her flawed, stupid, cowardly self, for the awe that Severus could be privileged to have known that kind of love, for the suddenly unshakeable trust that he'd stay the right course with her doe watching out for him no matter what.
She cried and laughed, and when she'd stopped doing both, she just lay in bed in her utter emotional exhaustion, between waking and sleeping, and thought of nothing conscious at all.
It took every ounce of Severus' skills in Occlumency to keep himself in the proper state of mind and heart throughout Sunday. The wait for the evening felt endless, the seconds slipping by too quickly by half. He managed it, though, disappearing to his laboratory to pack the precious cargo – the two vials of nearly identical Veritaserum Potion – into a small case where they wouldn't be broken, before striding purposely towards the ground level of the castle. Dinner was still going, and he was certain he could slip away unnoticed, if only he was careful how he–
"Severus!"
Whirling in the spot on the second floor, he found Mickey sprinting for him from one of the hallways, breathing very heavily.
"I haven't the time right now, Michael," he replied, turning to head for the staircase and finding that it had moved in his moment of inattention. "I must leave at once."
"Ash... in danger..." the dark-skinned Slytherin said, panting heavily as he slid to a stop beside Severus. "We need... your help..."
He was on a clock, but he'd planned on going ahead of time, so he had a few minutes still. Taking quick looks around to see if they were alone, Severus dragged Mickey by his arm towards the nearest alcove and cast a Muffliato.
"You know I have my mission tonight," he hissed at his friend.
"I know, and I'm sorry, but this can't wait. Wilson's a murderer, Severus, and he's got Ash in his office right now, accusing him of Merlin knows what."
"A murderer? What are you on about, man?"
The other boy grabbed Severus' forearm to keep him in place even as he began digging through his pockets with the other hand.
"I haven't time to explain – Stacie's keeping watch, but we don't have much time. I need your help, Severus. Please!"
"Then give me some blasted information, Michael! Why do you think Ash is in danger?"
Out of his pocket, Mickey pulled a playing card, thrusting it between the two of them, into a sliver of light coming from the hallway into the alcove.
"Protean Charm, from Stacie," he explained curtly, though Severus barely paid it any mind, his attention focused on the text written on the card in the place of any symbols on its face.
Accusing Ash of con
Knows about Ash's family
Oh god, Mickey, it's him, he killed O'Leary!
He's threatening Ash, Mickey! Where are you?
Mickey, hurry! I'm afraid he'll hurt Ash, he's mad!
The flash of the Ravenclaw boy's friendly visage, smell of his cigarettes and cadence of his Cockney accent galvanised Severus as his mind comprehended that this truly was an emergency, and one that didn't leave them much time at all to deal with.
"Why do you think he's a murderer?" he said urgently, meeting Mickey's dark eyes. "Quickly!"
"He was in a criminal gang right before coming here. One of their members was found dead in June after an apparent altercation and the others haven't been seen since, but Stacie's contacts heard that Wilson had killed the bloke in a rage and fled. That's why he refused to leave Hogwarts, and why he's been so determined to figure us out – because his old pals are after him for revenge and he thinks we're working with them."
The card briefly glowed, new words appearing beneath the other ones.
Mickey! Please hurry!
I'm not sure I'll be enough to stop him, he's manic!
"Severus, please," Mickey said, gripping Severus' forearm tightly. "I know what I'm asking, and I know you made your priorities straight, but Ash is my best friend!"
"Why do you need me?" Severus retorted, urgency making his voice tight. "Just stun the man and go to Dumbledore."
"And say what, that we know he's a murderer because we're up to our eyeballs in the criminal world of both Wizarding and Muggle Britain? Or have our deception of him be confirmed to the Borgins and the Greengrasses? We'd be expelled at best, more likely in Azkaban or even dead! We're Slytherins, Severus, with no big connections to any respectable family whatsoever, and he may like you, but he most certainly won't go out of his way to protect us, especially not when we fucked up in the first place by being impatient and hasty." Mickey retorted. He rubbed a hand over his face in agitation. "I'll do it if I have to, Severus, I'd do anything for Ash and Stacie, but if there's another way at all..."
Growling in frustration, Severus cast a terse Tempus. It was five to eight, giving him less than thirty minutes until the meeting time, of which he needed at least twenty to actually get there.
"Do you have an actual idea how to rescue Ash without exposing yourselves?"
"I do, but you're not going to like it very much," Mickey said, eyeing the clock in the air. "Polyjuice."
Which meant that he'd not be able to change back for an hour, firmly putting him outside of any frame of accomplishing his mission.
Severus clenched his fists tightly, the handle of his wand cutting into his palm. On the one hand was the war effort, were his realigned expectations, was the pain of the last nine months, of tearing himself apart trying to become someone Lily could love, was the trust of the first adult who'd ever shown him proper kindness and respect, who'd believed that he could be more than what his past had made him. On the other hand was the future of three teenagers who'd shown him that friendships, even in Slytherin, could be more than business transactions, than underhanded dealings, than favours given and taken, who'd provided cover and assistance and appreciation he'd chased his whole life within his House, who'd proven Lily's beliefs and stances correct.
On the one hand was the easiest chance of beginning the hardest path he'd ever walk. On the other hand was a life in danger because of negligence and impatience.
He wished that he could tear himself in half. He wished Mickey had been too late to catch him on his way to the meeting site. He wished he'd involved himself more with their dealings. He wished it was any other day but today.
Severus let out an animalistic howl of utter frustration. "Bloody buggering fuck! Come on, where are they?"
He didn't know he'd made the choice until the words had left his mouth. The look of undiluted relief and gratefulness in Mickey's eyes cut off any regret before it had even begun surfacing.
"Defence classroom; Stacie's inside, but she can get out without being noticed. I'm having her meet us there with the Polyjuice."
Mickey wasted not a single second more as he burst out of the alcove and ran towards the staircase, Severus hot on his heels, the two of them dodging students and slipping into hidden passageways and emptier corridors on their way to the Defence classroom on the fifth floor. When they got there, Mickey slid into a nearby alcove, where Stacie was waiting for them, almost vibrating in distress.
"What took you so long?!" she hissed, grabbing hold of Mickey's forearm while the boy tried to get his breath back. "He's got Ash immobilised in his seat; I don't know how much longer Ash can keep him talking."
"Quickly," Severus interrupted, fighting for every breath past the stitch in his side. "The Polyjuice."
Stacie handed them their already prepared doses, Severus' a fiery red colour. He downed it without hesitation, surprised to find the taste a rather sweet lemony one.
The sensations themselves weren't unfamiliar to him; the first time he'd made Polyjuice had been in his third year, on a dare from Avery, and he had found it occasionally a very useful tool, mostly in getting his revenge against Potter and his Marauders. He closed his eyes and suffered the rather disgusting transformation, the writhing in his gut, the burning spreading into all his extremities, the feeling of melting from the inside. When he opened his eyes, the sight that met him was a shock – familiar leathery, wrinkled hands, a long white beard falling over his stomach, somewhat blurry eyesight, a taller vantage point.
Beside him, Mickey was now gone, in his place a tall, well-groomed young man with dark brown hair and an unfortunately large forehead, while Stacie now appeared as a dirty blonde whose main feature was a prominent upper lip.
"Dumbledore!" he hissed, his protest coming out in the old wizard's voice and creating a jarring dichotomy in his mind because that was not how Dumbledore ever spoke. "You had me Polyjuice into Albus Dumbledore!"
"Who else could make Wilson back off with no questions asked?" Mickey retorted, casting hurried spells to adjust their clothing to their disguises. He gave Severus one of Dumbledore's ugly shooting-star robes, too. "And you're the only person who could imitate him faithfully that I know of."
"How did you even get the old man's hair?"
"A chance meeting in March, if I remember correctly," Mickey answered, lifting his eyebrow. Severus remembered that he himself had brought Michael to Dumbledore, at the very beginning of their association, for a negotiation about providing Severus with a cover for their meetings. He must have swiped a couple of hairs all the way back then.
Severus dismissed the issue with suppressed annoyance, the plan of attack requiring his full attention. "When I ask him to oblige me on the matter at hand, stun him. I'll take care of the rest."
They walked out of the alcove and took their places in front of the door. Severus nodded once and, adopting the leisurely yet firm stance that Dumbledore always had, opened it and walked in, the other two hot on his heels.
Professor Marcus Wilson was a tall, well-built man, bearded, with a square jaw and groomed hair going grey at the temples. During class, he always wore utilitarian robes and always displayed economic, deliberate movements. The man that Severus found on the other side was the polar opposite to that, rumpled, with his face red from what was an obvious fit of anger magically silenced so as not to attract attention, his hair sticking out as if he'd been running his hands through it. At the desk a few steps away from him, with his back turned to the door, was Ash, looking as if he was simply being severely scolded by his teacher.
"Good evening," Severus said, doing his best to imitate Dumbledore's twinkling gaze, the one used to lull people into a false sense of security. "I do hope I am not disturbing you, Professor Wilson."
The man paled instantly and the silencing spell dispersed with a flick of his wand.
"Headmaster. I was just... I caught this young man rummaging in my office and was giving him a dressing down."
"Indeed," Severus replied, noticing that the office did look somewhat disturbed, with the door to one cabinet halfway open and the teacher's desk pushed out of it usual alignment. "Mr. Morgan, that is a rather serious charge."
"Yes, sir," Ash answered, clearing his throat and still keeping his face out of sight. "I didn't mean nothing by it, sir. As I told the professor, it was on a dare."
Severus lifted his eyebrow and offered a small smile to Wilson. "Ah, the antics of teenaged boys. Why, I remember being in such a situation myself a time or two. You should speak with Professor Flitwick; no doubt he would like to know what mischief his students are getting up to in their free time."
"Did you need something, Headmaster?" Wilson asked, radiating suppressed impatience.
"Yes, indeed." Taking his time, Severus walked past the student desks to idly examine a cage with two pixies in it; Wilson turned towards him, such that he was blocking Severus' view of Ash. "I have just had a very interesting conversation with two of our former students, and I hoped you might be of some assistance to us."
"Is that so?"
"You see, young Miss Borgin and Mr Greengrass would like to be married; unfortunately, their parents are not in agreement with them on this account. In an attempt to obtain independent means with which to begin their life together, they approached you before the winter holidays with a business scheme. However, as it appears that there had been some miscommunication during your last meeting on this matter, Mr Greengrass suggested visiting me and discussing it with me instead. Having listened to their explanation, I have found myself in agreement with them that you would be the best person to assist them in this endeavour, Professor Wilson. Do you feel that you could oblige me in this?"
He met Wilson's eyes, catching in his peripheral vision Stacie, directly behind the man, casting a soft Stupefy. Wilson didn't even notice it before it hit him square in the back of the head, and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Free from having to pretend any further, Severus sprang into action, levitating the man to lean against the dresser while Stacie rushed to Ash's aid and Mickey raised privacy wards to ensure they wouldn't be disturbed.
"What was all that about?" he hissed as Severus crouched down in front of the unconscious man.
"I needed something to work with," Severus replied, carefully opening Wilson's eyelids and sticking them so that they stayed open. "Confundo. Legilimens."
The sensation of being in an unconscious mind was one of the strangest things he'd ever experienced; it was as if all the thought processes were temporarily halted, dunked beneath the surface of what he suspected were the deeper levels of the mind where creativity and dreams, existential joys and inborn fears originated. Nevertheless, memories were where they should have been, and with Wilson's mind so highly malleable from both the Stunner and the Confundus, it was easy enough to change the correct memories once he'd managed to pick them out of the crowd. He was working by instinct, off of what he'd learned of manipulating his own memories and his lessons in Legilimency, but it didn't take him long to accomplish it, knowing that with the Confundus Charm in full effect, Wilson's mind would patch over any holes or discrepancies Severus overlooked.
Once he'd finished, there was only one last thing to be done. Targeting all of the man's knowledge of Ash, his family, friends and business dealings, he incanted: "Obliviate," and then cancelled the Confundus and Sticking Charms.
"Help me get him to bed; he'll sleep it off and won't be any the wiser in the morning that I've tampered with his mind."
"You did what now?" Ash asked, pulling Severus' attention away from Wilson. The Slytherin boy felt his teeth clench at the bruises on Ash's face and his sluggishly bleeding split lip.
"How badly are you hurt?"
"Had worse," the Ravenclaw seventh-year dismissed it. "What'd you do to him?"
"I erased everything he'd learned over the hols about you and your family, for starters," Severus answered. "I also modified his memories of the conversation you two had with him about the Dark Curio, to make it seem less suspicious than it had been. Finally, I added a couple of memories of him figuring out that Valentine Borgin and Hyperion Greengrass were trying to get him involved with the Dark Curio business because they want to elope against the wishes of their families."
"Is that why you told that nonsense to him just now?" Stacie asked, narrowing Valentine Borgin's eyes at him.
"It's much easier to modify things when they're already in one's head, rather than having to add them from the start," Severus explained. "I've also Obliviated this whole sorry business tonight out of his head, so he should have no suspicion of the Headmaster's involvement. Ash, I have some bruise paste that I can give you; it's my recipe and should work well enough to have you mostly healed by morning."
"Much appreciated," Ash said with a nod.
"Stace, can you give me and Severus a moment?" Mickey asked, only casting the Muffliato when Stacie nodded. "What will you do about your mission, Severus?"
Yes, the mission, which he'd very royally buggered up. It was far too late to do anything now, and even if he did run all the way to the meeting place, looking like Dumbledore would just get him killed, rather than accepted for initiation.
His gut twisted in anxiety as the full consequences of his choice hit him, now that he had enough mental energy to spare on it – he'd fucked up whatever goodwill Malfoy and Rosier might have had for him, and likely also blown his one shot at getting into the Dark Lord's inner circle.
It wasn't the now wasted effort of the last three months that settled on his heart though, trying to pull it down somewhere into his shoes; it was the thought of disappointment that would await him in Dumbledore's eyes.
While they waited for the Polyjuice to wear off, the group of four put the office and the man's private quarters to rights, using the time to fill in Severus on the parts of this mess he was still missing. As they'd said, Mickey's group had spent considerable effort looking into Marcus Wilson over the hols, without any more success than the previous four months. However, among other, more general things, Stacie had learned that a member of a Wizarding criminal gang by the name of Patrick O'Leary had been killed in an altercation with a fellow gang member who'd then naturally run for the hills. They'd not connected the dots until this evening, when Mickey and Stacie had snuck into Wilson's quarters and classroom in search of more information while Ash distracted the professor before dinner. During their search, Wilson had come back in with Ash at wandpoint, having learned of Ash's connection to the Muggle criminal world and suspecting him of working with O'Leary's gang to get revenge for the killing. Naturally, when he'd seen that his private space had been rifled through – Mickey and Stacie had been relatively careful on the whole, but he had caught them mid-search – he'd correctly concluded Ash's purpose in accosting him, and had begun losing his composure.
What had been sheer blind luck for Mickey and Stacie had been the fact that the current Defence classroom connected directly to the teacher's quarters, which in turn also connected to the main corridor, the entrance unseen from outside but accessible from the inside. Stacie had hidden herself to monitor the situation and jump in if necessary, while Mickey had gone out in search of help and found Severus.
They'd debated for a while on what to do with this information, without arriving at a satisfactory conclusion. None of them had much trust in the authorities, whether of Hogwarts or Wizarding Britain, and though Severus had faith in Dumbledore on a lot of levels, protecting his friends when those friends were the reason why Severus had failed to accomplish the very thing Dumbledore had initially approached him for wasn't one of them. Then there was also the fact that Wilson's alias was a very well-crafted one, and exposing how they knew of his true identity would destroy all of the plans they had for the rest of their lives. Criminal though those plans were, Severus wasn't going to be the cause of their demise, not when the crimes they were intending to commit going forward were so very insignificant compared to the crimes Severus knew were in store for him, if he ever did manage to become a Death Eater. In the end, they'd decided to sit on the information until they figured out a better option.
So now here Severus was, clenching and unclenching his fists, staring at the heavy wooden door that separated him from the reckoning for his choice two hours previously, trying to figure out a way of saying what he needed to say to the Hogwarts Headmaster.
In the end, he had no better idea than before and reconciled himself to it. Swallowing his nervousness, he knocked on the door, waiting for Dumbledore's invite before entering.
"Well, my boy?" the Headmaster asked, putting aside whatever he was working on as soon as Severus closed the door behind him. "How did it go?"
"I..." Exhaling forcibly, Severus met the man's eyes. "It didn't."
He launched into the explanation before Dumbledore had managed to utter a single syllable, keeping it short and to the point. He'd been caught on his way by Michael. Ash's life was in danger and they needed Severus' help. Severus had made the choice to abandon the mission to help his friends.
When he was finished, Dumbledore's countenance was terrible to behold, and Severus looked down at his feet, unable to face what he'd known he'd receive from the old wizard – anger and disappointment.
"Severus, look at me."
Drawing courage around himself like a cloak, Severus lifted his eyes and met Dumbledore's blue orbs behind half-moon glasses. The cold disappointment in them burned his very soul.
"How was Mr Morgan's life in danger?"
"Potioneering mishap," Severus lied.
"And why didn't Mr Stone go to Professor Slughorn?"
"You are aware of the dealings Michael and his group have in their free time; of course he came to me."
"You understand what this will mean for our mission going forward, do you not?"
"I do."
"And you still judged it to be less important than protecting the reputation and future criminal activity of the group in question."
Dumbledore's voice was controlled, but beneath the even surface of it was the anger that Severus had expected, the judgment of a choice wrongly made. For a moment, he was transported back to the end of last school year, when he'd stood in this very spot, begging the Headmaster for mercy in the face of his then-friends' attack on the Seventh-years. And here he was again, some seven months later, being swayed by his now-friends away from the right path, from the path he'd committed himself to. Dumbledore had been cold and judgmental then, too, finding him not worthy enough, not capable of fulfilling the old wizard's expectations. It was worse this time, though, because now it wasn't simply those things Severus was seeing, it was the terrible disappointment added to the mix, as if Dumbledore now wished to sever ties between them and couldn't, not like he'd been able to do the last time, the disappointment that Severus had first learned the taste of at his mother's knee.
The shame made him want to quail, to beg forgiveness. Anger rose up to meet it, anger at the Headmaster for trying to manipulate him in this way, anger at himself for giving the man the weapons to do it, anger that he'd been facing this kind of disapproval his whole life and yet still hadn't learned that the only thing he could expect from adults was judgment, anger that his life and worth boiled down only to how useful he could be in the war.
Anger that he'd believed Dumbledore's lies about caring for him.
"I did, yes," he answered sharply, refusing to be cowed this time, feeling more than ever before that he'd made the correct choice, the choice he himself could live with. "Michael, Stacie and Ash have had my back from the first time I ran into trouble because you and I were meeting, Headmaster, and they have never asked me for anything big in return, though Michael has known how large a favour they were doing for me. Ash's life was in danger, and I was the only one who could help in time. I judged that to be of greater importance than crawling up the arse of the Dark Lord's crony for an easy in into that cesspool of depravity and darkness. I have given you my word, and I have done everything you've asked of me until now; I have spied for you and I have lied for you, I have sacrificed my relationship with Lily for you and this cause, perhaps forever. But I will not sacrifice the life of someone I care about for a potential future payoff that might not be guaranteed in any case."
"Ah, so it is about loyalty, then?"
Severus narrowed his eyes. "I have been loyal to you since the morning you deceived me into what I'd be signing up for, and I didn't say a single word about that manipulation, Headmaster. I have given everything I have to the task you assigned me and I have not wavered even when you showed me exactly what I'll be facing – and you know how I feel about that, I am not fool enough to think I've managed to hide from you my disgust at the mere thought of the Dark Mark on my skin. But if you wanted a puppet, to be loyal to you only and no one else, then you should have chosen someone else, because I had come to you with my loyalties already given to others, and so long as those people deserve it, they will continue to have it."
"To Lily, yes. They were not given to Mr Stone and his group when you and I began meeting."
"What difference does that make?"
Dumbledore pinned him with a stern glare, almost as if he thought the Slytherin to be obtuse. "Severus, to be an intelligence agent, your loyalties cannot be divided beyond the cause you serve. The fact that they already are as regards Miss Evans is tolerable only because she believes in the cause just as strongly and will not ask you to put her before it. The same clearly cannot be said of Mr Stone."
"And what when the war is won?" Severus recoiled from the harsh, blunt truth laid before him. "What worth are my contributions towards the cause if I have nothing waiting for me afterwards? No friends because I'd betrayed them too many times, no Lily because I've tainted myself with the Darkness beyond her tolerance? Am I to sacrifice everything I have and everything I am without even the promise of a better life afterwards? You said you cared for me, Headmaster – is this your idea of care? Because if it is, I do not want it; I already have plenty of it from my mother and father at home."
Dumbledore's eyes darkened, though Severus could no longer say whether in hurt or in anger.
"You gave me your word."
"Have my actions tonight come to mean to you that I have washed my hands of that promise?" he asked, incredulous. "It was the initiation mission, Headmaster, not the final battle in the blasted war!"
But Dumbledore shook his head. "And how am I to trust that the next time an opportunity presents itself, you will not do the same thing?"
Severus narrowed his eyes, his insides shrivelling into little clumps of fear and hurt, making his voice brittle even as he fought back, unwilling to let the old wizard win this. For some reason, it was just too important. "I suppose you can't, because I just might. But much as you've tried to have me believe it, this war is not only on my shoulders. Lily at the very least believes in the cause just as strongly as you do, and as you've informed me yourself, there were others you could have found to turn into your begrudging spies." He huffed, sick of at least one of the pretences that had hung over his shoulders in the last half-year. "And I do not, in fact, believe in the cause, Headmaster. I am not in this war for the glory of it as Potter and his group will be, or because I hold the Dark Lord's stances to be evil like you and Lily do. I have taken a role in this war because you and Lily needed me to, and so long as that is true, I will continue to do so, no matter what I personally feel about the cause itself. But tonight, Michael, Stacie and Ash needed me more than you and your cause did, and I judged that the right course of action was to stand by them. If that is not enough for you, then I have nothing else to give you, and ask that you release me from the vow I made to you."
They gazed at each other in the silence that ensued, the most powerful wizard of Britain and Europe sitting, with his laced fingers on the desk, the Slytherin seventeen-year-old with his arms crossed over his chest, standing. Severus held his ground, though it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, his pride whipped, his trust crumbling, his insides quivering with the expectation of Dumbledore's judgment.
The old wizard closed his terribly burning blue eyes and sighed.
"What's done is done," he said softly, more to himself than to Severus, it seemed. When he opened his eyes, Severus found a weary sort of acceptance in them and most of the cold now gone. The disappointment was still there, but there was also a strange sort of regret that he didn't know what to attribute to. "You are still committed to the path forward in spite of everything?"
"As I've said."
"And if a time should come when you are called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, at a decisive moment, will you do what must be done?"
Severus thought of it only for a moment. "At the decisive moment? Always." He grimaced, losing his rigid posture as he comprehended the truth that had caught him so off guard just hours before. "Before then... I cannot say anymore."
Dumbledore nodded. "Then we will stay the course, though it will be far more difficult and demanding now that this opportunity has been squandered. Lucius Malfoy will likely see it as a slap in the face; he may not speak out against you to Lord Voldemort should you ever find yourself before him, but he will not aid you, either. You will need a justifiable excuse to give to Mr Wilkes, and no doubt whatever aid or assistance has been promised you with regards to your business, your further education, or your position in society are now null and void. You will need to excel beyond anything anyone in recent years has done, if you are to earn an invite on your own merits before it is too late." The Headmaster leaned back in his seat somewhat, suddenly looking extremely weary. "Perhaps I pushed you too hard; I did not wish to see that you weren't fully ready to bear this burden."
It felt like the old man had struck him clear across the face. Severus paled, all that guilt and shame and regret that he'd refused to feel until now flooding him at once, and it took everything he had not to let it push him to tears.
"If nothing else, this gives us some time to prepare you far more thoroughly than we've done so far; I don't imagine that you will have another opportunity of this kind before leaving Hogwarts. Take a seat, Severus; we may as well begin immediately working on how to mitigate the damage your actions today have done to our long-term plans."
"Yes, sir," Severus murmured, the words tasting of ash on his tongue.
He'd won their standoff on the surface; in truth, though, he knew – there hadn't really been much else that Dumbledore could have done, aside from accept it and adjust, or declare Severus a lost cause.
And though he felt somewhat dizzy from relief that he hadn't been rejected by the old wizard in spite of his actions and his rebellion, it wasn't strong enough to overcome the pain of disappointing the only adult he'd thought had ever truly cared for him, much as he wished it would be, much as he'd felt like Dumbledore had proven that his care of Severus would never be strong enough to overcome the old man's machinations towards the Greater Good.
Lily managed to find some semblance of normalcy in herself by Monday morning. The feeling of discombobulation continued to an extent, though she managed to overcome it some with a hearty meal – first in more than a week – and strong coffee. Her friends thought it was just the aftereffect of doing her super secret project, and of course demanded to see its effects; Remus thought it was because she'd managed to get proper contact with Severus.
She showed the journal to everyone, knowing it was unavoidable given her manic state of last week. It was why she'd gone through and erased anything that could arouse the suspicion of laymen on Sunday evening. She even demonstrated how it worked, sending Severus a message asking about how his mission had gone, careful in how she phrased it so that the steganographic text that appeared wouldn't contain anything too weird. Her friends were duly impressed and thus also thoroughly appeased over her inattentiveness towards them.
James continued in his trend of lifting her spirit up, and now that she was aware of her attraction to him, she found herself also far more aware of him physically, his somewhat stockier Chaser build, the ease with which he held himself at any moment, his boyish face and expressive hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, the loveliness of his smile. She felt guilty for it, mind wanting to dwell constantly on Severus and the doe Patronus, the realisation she'd come to still far too enormous to fully grasp, and yet her thoughts straying unwantedly to idle wonderings about James, too, whether his glasses might get in the way of kissing and how much he worked out for his physique and other stupid things of the sort.
Somehow or other, he managed to rope her into going to the library to help him with his Charms homework after classes let out. Lily purposely chose a spot out of the way, where no one would easily notice them. With her head in this mental space, she didn't have any will to be interacting with the student body at all.
She was explaining the particular properties of the Disillusionment Charm to him when James placed a hand on her mouth, lifting the forefinger of his other one to his lips in the universal sign of silence. His palm on her lips was warm and somewhat calloused, and she felt herself blushing almost as red as her hair.
Then the conversation he'd registered filtered in, and she forgot all about James Potter touching her face.
"...Would do better to associate with someone other than Snape, you know."
"Like you, perhaps, Terence? So that you could stab me in the back again, I suppose."
"And you have such belief in him, that he won't do the same?"
"I don't believe it was you who got us out of that mess, if my memory serves."
"Because it was his head on the line; he'd have sold you out just like the rest of us if it would have worked out better for him."
"We're Slytherins, Terence; looking after number one is what we do. If you want to talk about loyalty, you really should find yourself a Hufflepuff instead."
"It's not me who's so loyal to an upstart like him. But you mark my words – he'll be exposed for what he is sooner or later. His pretence at being cultured and shrewd is just that, a pretence. The Dark Lord will see through it in seconds."
"As if you'd know the Dark Lord's mind!"
"I have been in his presence. I have been judged worthy by him and Marked as such!"
"And the only reason for that difference is that you had permission from your parents and he hasn't. I don't see Rosier and Wilkes having any interest in your dealings. Remind me again when Severus is turning seventeen? You wouldn't know, would you, because Severus, like the rest of us, is not actually worth your regard. Spare me the sales pitch, yeah? I know where I'm placing my bets, and it won't be on you no matter how much you condescend to hound me about it."
That blush Lily had felt was long gone by now, and as the meaning of Avery and Thistletwaithe's discussion crystallised in her mind, she felt panic grip her, because now she understood what the hell that mission of Severus' was and why it had to coincide with his birthday – it was about taking Voldemort's Mark, a tattoo-like replica of the Dark Mark that always hung above the site of a Death Eater attack, imprinted somewhere on their bodies.
Severus had confirmed that these were true, had said they were reserved for Voldemort's closest, a direct connection to him. He'd called it 'the biggest honour the Dark Lord could bestow on the recruits'. And Lily – Lily could so very clearly see him, with that horrific thing somewhere on his body, his shoulder or his arm, forever bound to that monster, like chains that tore him away from everything good and pure, chains that were far stronger than her doe Patronus could ever be, than her indecisive heart could bind.
She wasn't aware of the fact that she'd stood up until the screech of her chair scraping on the stone floor stabbed against her eardrum. She paid no mind to James or to the two Slytherins lurking somewhere about the library, or any of her other friends in their own study groups, or even the student body milling about. All she paid mind to was the way she was going, driven by terror more powerful than she'd ever experienced, terror of being too late, of Severus giving a piece of his soul to Voldemort.
It was all of her fears of years past manifested in one clear image, the image she'd thought she'd never see with Severus' choice of allegiance, and the betrayal she felt at the fact that it was exactly this choice which was going to bring all of her fear to fruition, might have done already, the betrayal that tore all trust of their leader, their chess master, from her heart.
The bone-deep terror ignited a fury in her that was burning as hot as an inferno by the time she reached Dumbledore's office, as she barged in, heedless of interrupting his work, like she'd done once before to change the course of Severus' life.
She had full intention of doing that again, no matter what it took. She had vowed that she wouldn't lose Severus over her own feelings. She was damned if she'd lose Severus to Lord Voldemort over Dumbledore's schemes and machinations.
"Lily, is something the matt–"
"Severus will not take the Dark Mark!" she said sharply, banging both of her hands flat on his desk with a loud crack.
"Lily–"
"No, Professor," she snapped, boring into his serious blue eyes with her own, fully prepared to fight this battle to a very bloody conclusion. "I will not see it happen! Whatever his mission is, whatever you two are doing, I will not allow it!"
"You understand the importance of Severus' position to our efforts," he reminded her. "Things will only be getting worse; a spy in the highest ranks of Voldemort's supporters is crucial, if we are to win the war."
"I don't care," she shot back, the truth of her words burning through her. "Severus will not take the Dark Mark. I want your word, that you will not force him into it or let him do it out of some misguided sense of duty."
"I'm afraid, Miss Evans, that this is Severus' decision."
She banged her palms against the desk again, more sharply, and leaned into the old man's face, not caring one bit about how much older and more powerful he was than her, how much more revered and respected. The thousand little annoyances she'd felt during their Occlumency studies fed into her anger, sharpened it until it was targeted against Dumbledore, until the betrayal she felt over what he would have had Severus do echoed the betrayal he no doubt thought her actions to be, given voice in that one formal address after months of informality.
"He will not, if I have to move to Australia or America to stop it! You know me, you know about my life and my ambitions and my goals in the war effort, you've rifled plenty through my head in the last months to know. So believe me – when I tell you that I will do anything to stop him from accepting that abomination onto his skin, abandoning my cause and the rest of my life in this country included, I hundred percent mean it."
The old wizard blinked at her in speechless astonishment at the outrageous proclamation. She wondered if he'd call her bluff, and understood through the clarity of her fury that it was nothing of the sort.
"You would put Severus before the safety and freedom of all Muggle-borns and Muggles? Before the safety of your family and friends?"
"Yes," Lily bit out, enraged by the implications of his astonishment, by what that said about his belief in her decency as a human being, her values and priorities. "Unlike you, I would put Severus' soul before any political agenda, I don't give a toss how devastating it may be. And I think we both know Severus well enough to understand that it's not the cause he's loyal to, don't we? So between you and me, Headmaster, whom do you think he'd choose?" she said pointedly, words slicing into the air between them. "Do you think Severus would stay here to be your spy, or go with me?"
She watched the realisation wash over him, watched as his countenance darkened into something terrible and furious to behold, before clearing into an understanding that drove its own kind of terror into Lily's heart, because she suddenly realised what sort of weapon she'd given him against herself even as she'd drawn blood with her comment. Almost seventeen years old or not, she understood that Albus Dumbledore may have been a wise man, but that he was not without his vanity, without his selfish emotions; for the hurt she'd caused him, he'd draw blood in return.
"You love him," he said, voice gentle, almost kind. Lily had thought herself prepared for it; his three words sliced at her with surgeon's precision, constricting her heart, freezing the blood in her veins.
She nodded once, rigidly. Her feelings were her own to discover, but if she'd spent the last weeks and months hiding from this truth, then all of her hiding places were now rubble, in the wake of the knowledge her Patronus' shape had brought with it, in the wake of the terror and fury that had driven her to this desperate ultimatum. She'd spent far too much time as a coward already; she would be a coward no more. Dumbledore could draw blood with his insight into her heart, but he'd never be able to bleed her to death, not when she found the courage to own it.
"I am not abandoning him. Never again," she promised, holding eye contact with the perhaps most powerful wizard of their time without flinching, until he blinked first.
"If not the Dark Mark, Severus will be of little use to the war effort after you finish your education."
She reared back in surprise, that he wasn't pushing further, that he was giving her room to try and convince him with her own reasoning.
"We have a year and a half yet before anything more serious than recruitment and dissention here at Hogwarts will be expected of him; we will figure something out. But I will have your promise on this, Dumbledore."
It was the height of disrespect she was showing him, to call him by his name as if they could in any way be equal. On this, Lily felt they were, the war be damned. It was a battle for the freedom of Severus' soul, and she did not intend to lose, not even if Albus Dumbledore had been Merlin reincarnated himself.
With a weary sigh, Dumbledore nodded.
"You have my promise."
She'd won.
Settled now, her terror to an extent appeased, she felt herself relax as well.
"Thank you."
"You must be very careful, Lily," he warned her softly. "The power you hold over him is not one to be taken lightly."
She was starting to realise this, inexcusably late though she was coming to it. She certainly wasn't going to tell him that, though. "I would say the same thing to you," she retorted instead. Dumbledore stuck his thumb and forefinger under his glasses and pinched his eyes tightly shut for a moment before meeting her eyes.
"I could not stop being aware of it even if I tried."
Settled or not on this matter, Lily needed hours of solitude to calm herself fully down, and even then, all her mind could focus on was the realisation she loved Severus enough that she was willing to upend her whole life without hesitation to spare him the slavery his allegiance to Dumbledore promised him. The intensity of that emotion was its own kind of terror, one that would not let her go, that made her fall asleep imagining how much easier and more fun life would be if chose James in the end.
His hands were long; she felt the bumps of the scars as she traced her fingers over them, nicks and cuts and burns from inexpertly done work. The patches of discoloured skin, dark like bruises, of ingredients that left stains and yet could not be handled with gloves.
"How much do you love me?"
His other hand closed over hers, thumb caressing the back of it, leaving goosebumps and shivers in its wake.
"What do you want from me, poetry?" he asked, breath caressing her cheek as he whispered in her ear. She smiled shyly, looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"No; we're horrible with words anyway. Show me."
His kiss was a worship – gentle, deep, with hidden desperation and so electrifying her blood burned. She kissed back, deepened it, opened her mouth to him and pressed herself close, and then the kiss wasn't a worship anymore, it was just need, a desperate burning meeting of lips and teeth and tongues. His hand snaked into her hair, cradling the back of her head, pulling her closer, the other one wrapping around her waist to balance her. She twisted her fingers into his shirt, held on as everything in her turned to him, every molecule in her body, every corner of her mind, every breath of her spirit reached for him, drawing him in, forgetting that anything else existed, aching and yearning for him.
"Please," she clawed at his shirt, sliding her hands past the collar, caressing sinewy shoulders and back. "Please." She needed him so much she thought she'd combust from it.
He laid her down on the bed, pressed her down into the softness of the mattress with his body. "I love you," he said, desperate and despairing, and she wanted to cry for him. She tried to kiss his pain away instead, wrapping herself around him, trying to cradle him with her body, envelop him until he knew nothing else but her, her warmth and her passion and her need.
He groaned gutturally, his hands running frenziedly down her side, making her twist up and moan, making her light up on fire where they passed. She needed to feel his touch on her skin, needed to turn into a fireball under his ministrations.
"Off," she said into their kisses. "Clothes. Off. Now."
They were naked then, the barriers gone, and he was lithe and so warm under her fingertips, so alive. He kissed her neck, ran his tongue over her pulse point, made her shiver and arch into him, their bodies flush together. Her nipples tingled as they brushed against his chest, the sensation exquisite when he took one in his mouth and licked and sucked. She stuffed one hand between her lips to muffle her moans, tangled the fingers of the other into his hair, pushed him further on, down between her legs where she ached.
He breathed out onto her mound, ran one finger between her folds and something deep in her belly clenched, throbbed, spread out until she could hear her heartbeat racing in her ears, until every brush against the sheets electrified her skin, until sparks burst behind her eyes.
Then he licked her, once, touch soft as a feather and she twisted against him, desperate for him, needing to feel him. "More," she sobbed, and he obliged, pressed close, tongue flat against her slit. She wanted to scream and couldn't, panting instead. Not enough.
"Later," she told him. "I need you. Please."
He slid up her body to kiss her again, and she tasted herself on his lips and tongue, driving her mad. He pushed her knees up, made her dig her heels high up on his back, aligned himself at her entrance.
"I love you," he whispered again, strained, bumping his nose with hers in reassurance. She took a breath to answer and he entered her in one smooth push, filling her up until she felt like bursting, until there was nothing but him him him him himhimhimhim
"Severus–" she breathed out
and he vanished from Lily's grasp as she twisted onto her side, disoriented and wanting, the throbbing ache between her legs unbearable, tears filling her eyes from the need. She slid her hand into her knickers and rubbed herself mindlessly, clenching her knees tightly to keep her fingers trapped to her slit, and came with a desperate sob into her pillow, the orgasm rushing through her so quickly and strongly she could swear she could smell him, that alluring, familiar scent of smoke and herbs.
The intensity of it left her panting, her hand slowing and then stopping between her legs, as clear thought began reasserting itself, as she realised what had happened, the dream still burning vividly in her mind, so real that her bed felt wrong, felt like it was missing the warmth of his body next to her, the weight of his limbs wrapped around her.
She'd never had a sex dream of this kind, so clearly defined that she could feel the phantom burn of his lips along the trail they'd taken, from her neck to her breast and further down, and unable to help herself, she ran the fingers of her other hand over that path, making the sensation real.
Tears flooded her eyes, and she yanked her hand out from her underwear, balling it into a fist and stuffing it beneath her pillow, clenching her legs tightly and twisting onto her stomach as much as she could in the awkward position.
She fell asleep again without knowing she'd done so, and dreamed of her magnificent doe Patronus calling to her like a siren with Severus' voice.
A/N: Almost there, everyone - next chapter is decision time, and then one last chapter to start implementing that decision, and Part III is over! I'm very curious to hear what people's thoughts on Dumbledore are as of this chapter, to be honest, and how you'd interpret his behavior during his interactions with Severus and Lily respectively, so if you feel up to leaving a comment, I'd love to read them.
Otherwise, happy holidays to everyone, and wishing you all a great 2020 (and wishing to myself that I manage to write out Part IV with a shorter hiatus than last time...)