Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potterverse (obviously).

Note: I wrote this story as an apology to Missyick for (temporarily) abandoning The Man of Twists and Turns. Thank you for your continued interest and encouragement.

Cordial and not Poison

At first, Marian secretly blamed Sybil Trelawney. She knew it was unfair, and that the Minister of Magic's dreadful appointee, Dolores Umbridge, was the sole cause of the reprehensible law that would change her life. But Trelawney had been the catalyst for the events that led to the Minister granting Umbridge the power to implement her outrageous Educational Decree #27.

She had been swaggering around Hogwarts bullying and 'inspecting' the professors all year, and had realized immediately that the divination teacher was a fraud. Everyone knew it, and that Trelawney really ought not to have been teaching, but Dumbledore indulged her, soothing her ego in order to keep her at the school under his eye, on the off-chance that she made more genuine prophecies. After all, it had been known to happen…twice.

When Umbridge had gleefully placed the alcoholic seer on probation, Dumbledore had allowed it without protest. But when she had announced that Trelawney was to be sacked, well, that was another matter entirely. With his smiling, disingenuous manner, he had produced Trelawney's contract, which clearly noted that she possessed tenure. He had been certain that he had stymied the malevolent bureaucrat, who knew perfectly well that the magical agreement was inviolable. Dumbledore had expected this to be the end of it, but even he, with his extensive knowledge of human nature, hadn't realized the enormous lengths Umbridge would be willing to traverse out of spite.

It was that awkward period of time between when the Order meeting was set to begin and the time it actually commenced, which would occur whenever all the key players had gathered at Grimmauld Place. Marian knew that she wasn't numbered among that illustrious group, which was comprised of Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt…and Severus Snape.

Her adrenaline began pumping whenever she thought about Snape. She had met his gaze many times as he gave his reports, his cold, unyielding eyes giving the impression of black titanium. At first glance, he seemed so aloof and perfectly composed, untouched by the insults of the others, but his eyes betrayed him. They were wondrously expressive, filled with shrewdness and passion in equal measure. His movements and voice were unconsciously erotic, and Marian knew that he would make a sensational lover. But there was no one more off-limits than Snape. He was one of the last to arrive at the meetings and the first to leave. He had absolutely no patience with stupid people, incompetent people, people that tried to waste his time…the list stretched on for a while. She and he spoke occasionally, but she had yet to penetrate that painfully icy reserve. She had come closer than anyone though. Smiling slightly, she remembered that night.

The young witch had surveying him with a strange glint in her eye, and it had taken him a few moments to realize that it was admiration. As everyone had dispersed, Marian had turned away and muttered incredulously to herself, "What sort of man is he?"

The spy's sharp ears had picked up her question, and for some reason, he hadn't been able to let it go. "Pardon?" he had asked in prickly tones.

To her credit, Marian hadn't flinch at Snape's sudden proximity and the cold, quiet menace of his tone. She had turned slowly and met his suspicious glance with total frankness, "I was just wondering what you're like," she had clarified sheepishly.

Snape had tried not to show that he was absolutely baffled by her question. His agile mind had jumped from theory to theory, most of them involving him being subtly mocked by this pretty woman with the long, loose hair and deceptively careless manner. But since he couldn't pin down exactly how her words were aimed to cut him, he had settled for sarcasm rather than outright venom. Dismissively, he had responded acidly, "I'm afraid I have no time to watch you grasp for a simile."

In that moment, when Marian had heard his acerbic retort to her genuine interest in him, the best compliment she had known how to give, she had gathered that this man had fortified himself against others to an almost unprecedented degree. She had suppressed a sudden surge of amusement as she had caught herself fleetingly equating the effort it would take to earn his confidence to going on a quest to Mordor, facing swamps, mountains, fortified gates….The thought had helped her to regain her customary levity and she had jogged to catch up with him. He had ignored her, and she had declared, "Not a simile--a definition, a dissertation! I want to know you."

A familiar voice filled with sly humor had cut in, "And whenever a bird says-"

"—that she wants," Fred had chimed in.

"—to know you," George had responded gleefully.

"-she means, of course," Fred had added leadingly.

"—in the Biblical sense of the word," they had sung together.

"…Isn't that right, love?" inquired one of the red-headed twins, who had shared an identical smirk with his brother.

"When I want an interpreter, I'll be sure to remember you," she had retorted, rolling her eyes at their antics after quickly flicking her eyes towards Snape to see how he had reacted to their words…and more importantly, to the fact that she hadn't denied them.

"I have no time for this," he had reiterated disdainfully, but he still hadn't walked away.

And he hadn't quite managed to keep the curiosity or vulnerability out of his voice when he had added haltingly, "…What do you want to know?"

"Well, you're unique, so I'm curious. I want to know…what you value, what you think about…what you enjoy," she had said, shocked to this day over her boldness.

He had stopped walking and simply studied her. His dark eyes had been as intense and impenetrable as collapsed stars. They absorbed everything, but reflected nothing. Marian had felt her heart speed up, and had resisted the urge to cross her arms protectively. Severus Snape might have been her siren's song, but that didn't mean he didn't also make her nervous. "Why?" he had asked quietly, tilting his head in deliberation.

She had instinctively known that her next words would be the most important she would ever have a chance to say to him. He was really listening to her. A wild elation had bubbled up in her heart, only to be dispelled instantly when she had realized that she didn't know what to say. Since her eloquence had deserted her, she had decided to resort to brevity. Shrugging self-deprecatingly, she had answered, "Because you might actually be the one person worth the enormous hassle of getting to know."

His eyebrows had shot up, and she hadn't been able to get a read on him. After a long silence, he had finally asked, "Are your honeyed words meant to impress me?"

His question had lacked all hostility, and she had known that it had been spoken out of genuine bemusement. Perhaps unwisely, she had decided to throw down the gauntlet and had asked, "Well, what would it take to impress a man like you?"

Her flippant manner had disguised exactly how desperate she was to know the answer to that question. Not missing a beat, the imposing wizard had answered derisively, "I would be impressed by a woman that had mastered the art of holding her tongue."

Freezing, she had met his opaque gaze. Marian didn't answer him, unwilling to let him win, although she had been disappointed at the form his challenge had taken. Having expected her to turn away, Snape had narrowed his dark eyes in consternation when she had produced her wand and begun spelling glowing words and phrases, continuing their conversation nonverbally. Her tenacity had annoyed the wizard, and yet a very small part of him had felt pleased that he had continued to occupy her attention. He had played hard-to-get, and yet she had persisted. It had made him feel…not special, exactly. Well, not exactly.

Her words had said, "I was in earnest. I would very much like to impress you."

The words had flashed by quickly, but she had known his sharp eyes had missed none of them…or the impish expression on her face. When those words had achieved no reaction, Marian had goaded him a little harder. "We could have had a very stimulating conversation. After all, I'm an intelligent woman, and you can hardly meet many of those, spending your hours among students."

He had pursed his lips and replied in a low, mocking voice, "Indeed, how could I resist your humility?"

She had smirked, and the golden words had flown even more quickly in front of her, the shine passing in front of her dark-colored robes, revealing that they were blue, rather than black. "I thought I was being humble. I said 'intelligent', not 'brilliant'."

He had scoffed, but before he could speak, she had audaciously added, "Because I am. At least comparatively….Although not compared to you, I've heard that you're a prodigy. I wanted to see for myself."

Satisfied that she had met his challenge and issued one of her own, she had leaned back on her heels and waited for his reaction. It had not been long in coming. "Oh, you may speak," he had growled impatiently, "You're drawing all sorts of attention to us with your tinseled words."

She had been so wrapped up in baiting the enigmatic wizard that she had been oblivious to the bemused looks they were receiving from the others. But Snape, the spy, had noticed, although even he had failed to sense the person that had walked up to them. "Severus," Dumbledore had bleated, "we really must be getting back. I need you to take a look at some things tonight before your rounds."

The moment broken (and Marian had felt certain that Dumbledore had done it on purpose), Snape had nodded to her, looking almost shy for the space of a heartbeat, and then following the headmaster out the front door.

That had been a few months ago, but Marian had been smitten ever since.

Everyone was agitated today, discussing the law that had been passed on Saturday, expanded on Monday, and finally published in the Thursday evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore had called the meeting that night, after an abortive attempt at contacting the Minister of Magic, who no longer granted him the courtesies he had in the past. "I'm going to speak to the minister and a few members of the Wizengamot tomorrow," Dumbledore was saying, trying to speak over the panicked questions. "I'll do everything within my power to get it repealed."

It had begun with one of Umbridge's educational decrees. She had made a successful case to the minister that it was improper for unmarried teachers to work at a boarding school, and that a limited marriage law ought to apply to them, or they would have to seek other employment immediately. He had agreed and gotten the law passed in a secret session of the Wizengamot. It was the sort of thing that needed a little more legal force behind it than one of Umbridge's educational decrees could muster, which Dumbledore surely would have quashed.

But over the next two days, Fudge and his minions put their heads together and decided that if they expanded the law a little, they would be able to ensnare Harry Potter in a couple of years. It was the 'Law for the Preservation of Magic', which Lucius Malfoy had enthusiastically endorsed to Rita Skeeter. "It will help keep magic in the wizarding world. Right now, many magicals that have been raised in the muggle world end up returning to their families and marrying a muggle, having muggle children and reducing the number of magical citizens. This law will only affect those that have been raised in the muggle world," he had gushed.

"What about Hogwarts professors? Doesn't the first part of the law deal with them?" Rita had inquired.

"Well, yes, the law also affects professors, but I think you'll agree with me that it's a good thing to have all married teachers, since they live with our children nearly year-round. There are so few other single adults around that some might be tempted to abuse their authority. Besides, this part of the law affects nearly no one—barely a handful of people. And only those between seventeen and sixty-five," Lucius had replied.

Marian wondered whether he had been deliberately baiting Snape, the only teacher with whom he was acquainted, with his remarks. Probably, the ponce.

"How long do they have to find a partner?" she had asked finally.

"Hogwarts professors have until the end of the week to notify us of their compliance or to resign from their employment. They have until the end of the month to follow through. All others have plenty of time—six months from today if they are of age, and six months after they reach majority for the rest-to find a magical partner and get married. There are no restrictions on nationality or blood status, just that the partner also be magical," Lucius had said smilingly.

He had acted as though the law was just business as usual, and not something that was going to devastate people's lives. Most of the room had calmed down after the initial scare. Right now, the law really only affected Snape, Tonks, Marian, and a small handful of others. Tonks and Lupin were already secretly dating, and they didn't seem terribly worried.

Snape, on the other hand, actually frightened her. His eyes seemed…dead. He looked like whatever hopes he had had in his life had been piled up and burned on a pyre, leaving him with nothing but ashes. That stoic face with those chilly eyes….Marian had never seen true despair until now. And it hurt. More than she thought it could.

Marian shivered. The passage, although wide, felt oppressively dark and damp. She could scent the mold that grew in darker patches on the already shadowy stone walls, and it tickled her nose, threatening to cause her allergies to act up. The slapping sound of her muted footsteps had been the only thing she had heard in ages, and after turning down endless wrong corridors and becoming hopelessly lost, she finally withdrew her wand and whispered, "Point me to Severus Snape."

She rolled her eyes when the green spark of light flashed behind her, realizing that she had proceeded too far underground and must turn back. When she finally reached a turn she recognized, due to the only lit torch she had spotted in the long line of bronze wall sconces, she was sorely tempted to bolt back the way she had come in search of an exit, rather than performing the errand she had set herself. She hesitated for half a step in that small puddle of light, before regaining a little of the steel of her original resolve. Marian ruefully reflected that she had come too far to abandon her attempt. Her friend, Tonks, currently serving as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had taken a chance and broken one of Dumbledore's rules to allow her access. After the Daily Prophet's devastating, execrable headlines of the day before, she knew that Dumbledore would be at the ministry, trying to find loopholes in the ministry's new initiative for his operatives. Given his extreme unpopularity among Fudge's bureaucrats, Marian felt very little hope that he would succeed and had decided to take measures to protect herself from the new law.

She had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix for nearly a year, having been recruited just after the Triwizard Tournament. During that time, she had learned much of the other members and made a handful of friends, namely Tonks and the Weasleys, although she tended to remain rather aloof, shunning the attentions of Sirius Black and coming to Grimmauld Place only when invited. Marian was pretty, in an unobtrusive kind of way, and had drawn a fair number of second glances from men in the Order, although she had dismissively attributed them to her relative youth compared to most of the other female members.

Several months in, these unlooked-for attentions had mostly ceased and men rarely invited her anywhere—all except for Sirius Black, the dynamic, unrelenting heir to the enormous Black family fortune. Marian frowned slightly when she thought of Sirius. He never seemed to accept her refusals at face-value. She reflected that she shouldn't really be surprised that he was a man to whom boundaries meant little. After all, he had managed to escape the 'inescapable' prison fortress of Azkaban after twelve years of torturous imprisonment.

She knew that logically, Sirius Black was the man she should be approaching now. He was the one she should humble herself before, whose help she should seek—and yet, her feet had taken her to Hogwarts instead, on an errand whose outcome almost guaranteed her humiliation and disappointment. But now she was right outside his door. Lost in thought and nerves, she had almost passed it by, the slightly darker shading of the wood barely noticeable against the mossy stone walls.

Marian put her wand away and wiped her hands nervously on her thighs before raising a tentative finger to trace the snake on the battered, much-worn metal plating of the Slytherin crest that graced the center panel. Shaking her head in irritation for her cowardly dawdling, Marian finally balled her hand into a fist and rapped smartly. Holding her breath, she stood immobile, torn between hope that he wasn't in his rooms, that she would be spared making her petition while those overwhelmingly intense eyes skewered her, and the stronger hope that he was, and that she might get this over with and learn her fate.

He did not keep her waiting long, although her heart beat so loudly and violently that the near-pain of it made her feel a though much more time had passed. Relativity indeed, she thought wryly. The door finally opened, and the man himself appeared, towering over her in his classically-draped black robes, his searing eyes and powerful presence making her feel a sudden shocking awareness of her femininity. Emotions rarely ruled her, and most of the time Marian walked about feeling more like a cool, disembodied brain than a human being with a woman's body. But his presence made her pulse pound in her ears-no longer from anxiety-and she felt delicate and conscious of her body (and his) all at the same time.

Boldly meeting his gaze, in spite of the heat in her cheeks, she registered his thoughts as they flickered past. He had pulled the door open in restrained irritation, but surprise had quickly taken its place, until he remembered himself and kept his eyes opaque. They reflected nothing, but absorbed everything. "Are you lost?" he asked coolly, although he looked a little more harried than usual.

Marian wasn't quite sure how she knew that, because he seemed impenetrable as always, although she detected a faint fragrance of wine on his breath. Perhaps she wasn't the only one here that had been losing sleep over the Ministry's latest meddling. "Good evening, professor. No, I'm not lost. I came to see you, if you can spare the time," she murmured.

His eyes narrowed, and he stared at her for a long moment, in which she struggled to keep her gaze open and unchallenging. But Snape made no move to let her in, and finally said, "You aren't supposed to be here. But I suppose you already know that."

She shrugged and answered, "I couldn't wait until the next gathering of the Order or a chance meeting in Hogsmeade."

"Ah," he replied, and bitterness coated his tongue, as though at once everything had fallen into place for him, "You're here about that law, and naively imagine that I have some sort of influence with Dumbledore, whom you believe is still a force to be reckoned with in the political arena."

Before she could set him straight, he continued with finality, "But you couldn't be further from the truth. I am Dumbledore's servant, his golem. He places no value in my counsels. And even if he did, he is so unpopular with Fudge that his objections will do nothing more than cement the new policy. I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more assistance, Ms. Oliver. I don't know how the law relates to foreigners, but you might have more options…and you had better find out what those are, or you'll burn with the rest of us."

Savagery tinged the last words he spoke, and Marian knew with certainty that he was as agitated as she was, and so, as he moved to close the door, she forestalled him by calling, "Wait! Be that as it may, it's not why I came here. I still need to talk to you….May I come in so we can do it in private?"

The wizard raised his eyebrows, surprised by her persistence, but nodded and held the door wide. Marian passed him, her hand accidentally brushing his robes. The brief, secondhand touch pleased her more than it should have. He fastened the door securely behind her, pausing a moment to engage his wards, and came around her to lead the way into a small, book-filled sitting room that should have felt cozy, but somehow missed the mark. A black leather armchair faced the smoldering fire head-on, although Marian had a sudden stab of insight that this was caused more by a desire not to be crept up on by Floo callers than to enjoy the flickering flames. But his chair blocked the rest of the room from the sight of any Floo callers.

A threadbare, dark green loveseat was situated a few feet to the left of the chair, with a small table between them, and books everywhere, on all the tables, in bookcases that lined the walls—everywhere she looked. Marian's eyes sparkled when she caught a few of the titles. Snape had impeccable taste. He noticed her distraction, but it didn't seem to displease him, and he waited silently for her to take a seat. She didn't.

Glancing up at him, she remembered her errand, and took a deep breath before making her case to the spy. "You were partly right. I'm here about the ministry's marriage law, but I never expected you to intervene for me with Dumbledore. I suspect that you have enough trouble of your own right now….I know that we have hardly spoken, and that you must think it strange for me to come here, and very presumptuous of me to ask what I intend to ask, but please answer anyway. These are not ordinary times. And so I want to know, what do you intend to do about the law? How will you get around it?"

Elegant hands clasped in front of him, Snape began to pace back and forth in the open area across from the loveseat. The way his tall, agile body stalked about reminded her of the graceful, tightly coiled manner of a tiger before its spring. Speaking quickly, almost as fast as his racing thoughts, he poured out, "You know my occupation. I am not at liberty to do as I wish, to go where I would. The law applies to me, and I doubt I'll be able to get around it. Dumbledore is at the ministry now, but he isn't worried about getting them to make an exception for me. He is only concerned that it will apply to Potter in a couple of years when he comes of age."

"What about…the Dark Lord?" she asked, still hesitant to delve too deeply, even though the taciturn spy was proving remarkably receptive to her questioning.

He turned his hawk-like profile towards her, and she admired his sculpted, patrician features for the hundredth time. Even though Snape was far from conventionally handsome, she had always found his intensity compelling. Genius glimmered in his large, dark eyes, and power and resolve were manifested in the line of his sharp jaw, in every curve and sinew of his lean body.

"Well done," he said softly, with a tinge of derision that she sensed was self-directed, "Most wouldn't have had the courage to mention him to me."

"It was the next logical thing to ask," she replied, glad she hadn't offended him. Despite it being pinned in the front, her dark brown hair had fallen forward over one shoulder, and she tossed it back impatiently. His enigmatic eyes followed the movement.

In the lull of conversation, he noticed that she still stood and commented starchily, "You may sit down, you know."

"Thank you, but I'm too agitated for that just yet," she muttered, and he realized with consternation that she spoke the truth.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked abruptly.

Marian nodded, and felt her throat go suddenly dry when she watched his long pale fingers clasp a long-stemmed crystal wineglass and swiftly and expertly pour the requisite amount. She murmured her thanks and took the drink from his hand, careful not to touch his fingers, fearing that the contact would undo her. She didn't know when it had started, this pulse-pounding attraction that she felt for the cool, remote wizard. Marian respected him, and had always found him fascinating, and somehow those feelings had resolved themselves into the most powerful passion she had ever felt. His silky voice turned her bones to water, and then set it boiling. As far as she could tell, no one had any idea how she felt about him, and she desperately wanted to keep it that way.

His careful voice broke through her haze of lust. "To answer your earlier question, the Dark Lord does not intend for the law to spare me. He and Bellatrix feel that I haven't been punished enough for my years of safety as a professor under Dumbledore. He told me that I had shown such loyalty to my other master that I should see what he could do for me. He has feared my perceived 'closeness' to Dumbledore, and knows that I'll have no option but to marry a woman of his choice, which will only make me hate and resent the old man more, which would ease the Dark Lord's mind."

Furious and horrified over his predicament, she exclaimed, "Why must you marry someone of his choosing?"

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, showing a hint of weakness that he quickly stamped out. As if to make up for his lapse, he glared at her and replied harshly, "I would like to help you, but don't think that delving into all the reasons I would be rejected by prospective partners is at all relevant. Suffice it to say that Dumbledore will find some awful woman to keep tabs on me for him—some fat, middle-aged dowager, keen on the idea of marrying out of a charitable impulse and as a favor to him," he spat.

Passion blazed in his dark eyes and a hectic flush touched his cheeks. Marian could see how his proud, private spirit writhed against its chains. She felt a sharp pain on his behalf, and a ferociously protective resolve never to let the light go out of his eyes. A man as extraordinary as this shouldn't be kept like an animal. It was fundamentally wrong. It was evil.

She took a deep breath, and saw him turn to her with a deceptively calm expression, born from futility. It was the look of a man in agony, but who had long ago realized that his silent screams never penetrated the dark and reached sympathetic ears. She could see at a glance the progression of unpleasant years that awaited him, before the grave swallowed him up in welcome. His two masters had taken everything from him, and one last thing they would also take—his hope of love, of the ideal. She felt a growing lump in her throat, but forced it down. She must not cry. He would think her weak.

Looking at the ground, and oblivious to her momentary disquiet, Snape spoke softly, with a tremor in his cultured voice, "So you see, I know my fate….But tell me, what do you intend to do?"

Remembering why she came, Marian took another swallow of wine to buy her time to answer, and then placed the goblet carefully beside a towering pile of books. "The way I see it, I have two options. Option one: I fight this law with all that I am. I run away, or go into hiding. If I'm caught, I go to prison. I'll face the dementors if I have to, and escape if I can. But until death or madness takes me, I'll keep struggling against the people that seek to make me a slave. I won't give in, and will fight them with my last breath."

A smirk touched his thin lips, but he replied wistfully, "I would give anything to be in a position to say those words, and to stand behind them….And what is your option two?"

Marian looked him dead in the eye and said seriously, "I marry you."

She heard a sharp intake of breath, and then the wizard hissed, "What?"

"I marry you," she repeated, her voice suddenly stronger.

"You're mad, girl. What has possessed you to make such an offer? If you're so desperate, what about Black, or one of your countless other admirers? What is your angle?" he asked furiously, striding towards her and hovering a few steps away, as if he didn't trust himself to come closer.

"You could slap my face for my presumption, and I wouldn't blame you. But I'm throwing the gauntlet down. It's you-or no one," she said staunchly, pale eyes gleaming at him like burnished steel.

He raggedly ran a hand through his black hair, tangling his locks, and Marian continued in a gentler voice, "I hate this law. It's a perversion of something beautiful, intending to substitute government-mandated 'duty' for love and loyalty and passion."

"Then why would you even consider conforming to it?" he demanded stingingly.

"Several reasons. I am thirty-years-old. I have traveled the world and met many interesting people. I know what's out there…and you're the best there is."

He scoffed in incredulity, but she continued, "I respect you and have always wanted to be in a position to help you, because I see how you suffer, but I didn't know how to break through your reserve and the many barriers that Dumbledore has erected between you and a life of your choosing…friends of your choosing. If I have to marry a man I'm not in love with, then, out of all the men in the world, I would want it to be you. Because I would be proud to be your wife. You're noble and fascinating….And that's why I won't take anyone else. You're the one I want—and I will accept no substitute."

Snape looked at the witch before him as if seeing her for the first time. He had always found her appealing, and possessed of that quiet, melancholy loveliness of a beautiful, broken Greek statue, partially hidden with ivy. She didn't quite seem to fit in the brash, modern world. He had thought her long-lashed, sea-colored eyes better suited for reverie and contemplation than sharp observation, yet they obviously saw much. She had discovered him. Severus shook his head to dispel the emotions swirling about him. He thought her a lady, and too fair, too fine to be meant for him. There must be more to the story. The spy berated himself for allowing his own desires to cloud his judgment, causing him to miss the undercurrents. He must discover her true motives, because the ones she had given couldn't possibly be genuine.

"You say that I'm a good option 'if you have to marry a man you're not in love with'—but you don't. You still have a choice. You're a foreigner, and I doubt the Ministry would go to great lengths to pursue you if you fled the borders. You can probably find someone able to make an illegal portkey. Why subject yourself to this law when you have a choice?" he inquired in agitation.

Finally sinking onto his sofa, to all appearances wrung out, Marian answered, "Because you don't have a choice. I suspected before I came here that you would be forced to take whatever creature Dumbledore dredged up for you—and I just couldn't stand it! By your own admission, you can't escape this law, and you'll end up with a wife that won't deserve you.

"I know that you don't love me—I don't know if you will ever come to love me. But I would honor you every day, and you would have an ally in me. You know that I'm a curse-breaker and that I invent spells. Well, I'm good at it. I'm not a genius like you, but I'm not unintelligent….I would be good to you, Severus," she finished in low voice.

He felt a curious warmth when she said his name. He didn't think his name could be beautiful, but it was, when she said it. His voice was slightly hoarse when he asked, "What do you want from me?"

She tilted her head to the side, surprised that he hadn't already turned her away, and answered candidly, "I don't want you to marry anybody but me. And I think we should go as soon as possible to the ministry—in the morning when they open, if you're able—before Dumbledore finds someone for you himself. Let's present him with a fait accompli."

His answering smile was feral, and she could tell that he liked the idea of getting one over on Dumbledore. Truth be told, so did she. "Marian," he tested her name carefully, and she took it as a promising sign that he had dropped the formalities (and not ejected her from the room), "That's not what I meant. I mean—what are your expectations of me? What do you want?"

Oh, she knew what she wanted alright, but wasn't about to ask for it, although a blush stained her cheeks at the question and intrigued him. "I only want what you're able to give. This is obviously not a normal marriage. I don't expect you to treat me like you would the love of your life…"

Growing impatient at her evasion, he cut in, "For instance, the law insists we live together. You know I cannot leave Hogwarts, and the suite of rooms I have is very small. I don't have a second bedroom or bathroom…"

He broke off leadingly, unable to make himself announce to her more explicitly that there was only one bed. Trying again, he asked, "If this isn't a normal marriage, then what sort of marriage is it?"

The normally perfectly-poised man appeared surprisingly vulnerable in that moment, and Marian took pity on him. She spoke gently, as if afraid she would spook him, and responded with deadly seriousness, "Well, as much as I respect and admire you, we still barely know each other. Most other couples date and…work up to intimacy. We won't get that opportunity, so we'll have to do it within the confines of the marriage. If we only become friends, and you never want…more, then I will deal with that. But I don't want us to shut out the possibility of love. Even if you decide that you don't wish to…enjoy me," she swallowed hard, "I want you to know that I will never be unfaithful to you. I will live a celibate life, and ask that if you wish to have an affair, you let me know. I know that marriage is permanent in the wizarding world, and that you can't divorce me, but I won't stand in the way if you wish to have a mistress. I don't want to destroy your happiness, but to contribute to it."

"And what about children?" he croaked out.

She froze for a moment and asked, "Why, do you want them?"

"Not at all," he replied vehemently, before remembering himself enough to add, "but I suspect you do."

She grinned up at him and answered, "Not even a little. I had hoped you felt that way, but couldn't be sure."

"But Marian, as my wife, the Dark Lord would take an interest in you. I don't know how I would protect you," he murmured.

"You will run into that problem with whomever you marry," she pointed out.

"True, but you—you're not some malicious harpy dug up by Dumbledore to punish me. You're actually worth protecting," he said, and as the words exited his mouth, he realized that they were true.

"It will be alright. No matter how close we get, just tell the Dark Lord that you and I lead separate lives, that we have nothing to do with one another and that I have no interest in politics. Tell him I am dull-witted and small-minded, with a coarse, stubborn, resentful nature and not worth the trouble of corrupting."

"He would only need to talk to you for a moment to realize that none of that is true," he scoffed.

"We'll think of something," she said decisively. "Maybe we could tell him that you use me as another conduit for feeding false information to Dumbledore…which I'll be glad to do, by the way. And if that old, beard-braiding, Harry Potter fangirl keeps working you into the ground, I'll be in a position to put a stop to it. I doubt he would like to be called out over breakfast by one of his professor's wives. And he'd probably like it even less if someone put an unbreakable charm on a few of his lemon drops. And I bet he'd just hate it if I demanded he honor your teaching contract and give you time off for a honeymoon. Where do you think—Greece, Egypt, the south of France?"

She grinned wickedly, and Severus stepped closer as if unable to help himself, a bemused, almost longing look on his face, like she was offering everything he wanted and he couldn't quite believe it was real. "You're different," he said finally, with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "When you first came in, you were so proper, so correct. And now you're plotting against the 'greatest wizard of our time' and calling him a 'fangirl'."

Marian tilted her head in thought. "Maybe it's the wine. Or you. Probably you," she blurted, before trying to recover by saying, "besides, just the fact that you're still listening to me lifts a rather considerable weight from my mind. Is it any wonder I'm a little bit giddy? …But I've told you what I want, now why don't you tell me what you want from me…what you need."

He eyed her with bright curiosity, and seemed not to know what to say at first, as though he had never expected to have his question turned around on him. Marian thought it was rather sad that he was shocked to receive even the barest consideration. That would change, she decided fiercely. She would spoil him rotten every chance she got. He would learn what it meant to be adored, if Marian had any say in the matter, and it seemed now that she would, since he had tacitly agreed to her mad, extremely awkward and unromantic proposal.

"What you have offered exceeds all my expectations. And you should never imagine for a moment that I would be unfaithful to you. But I need for you to stay safe when you're under my care and not to take unnecessary chances," he insisted, and when he noted her nodding head, he hesitated slightly and added, "And also…I need for you not to wake up one day and find me undeserving of your sacrifice. If you ever become disenchanted with the Order of the Phoenix, I realize that you will have no more use for me, and I don't want you to be unhappy. I know that I have little to bring to the table besides my work as a spy, and if that is ever compromised-"

He broke off, as her expression had grown steadily darker. With light eyes blazing with fury, she completely forgot herself, striding towards him and grasping his upper arms with her slim hands. "Great Merlin, Severus! As far as my 'sacrifice' goes, it's nonexistent," she confessed. "I'm not the self-sacrificial sort. I wouldn't share a bed with a man I didn't want-not even to stop a war. I know I should hate this marriage law. It's an abomination. Yet how can I hate my ally? It is making my fantasy possible.

"And the idea of me regretting our marriage if I sour on the Order of the Phoenix is laughable. I trust your heart and your judgment. Not Dumbledore's. Not the collective Order's. Yours. I will side with you, because I know that you'll do what's right, even if your definition differs from theirs.

"I'm not marrying a cause, I'm marrying a man. How can you be so unaware of what you have to offer? Your mind is unique and dynamic, your voice a symphony in my blood, your eyes—your face—your body. God, Severus, do you have any idea how much I want you? I've been wild for you since the first Order meeting, where you were so cool and clever that I could almost taste you on my tongue. I thirst for you. I want to worship every inch of your body and do filthy, filthy things to you-"

The rest of her words were muffled against his mouth, and she froze in surprise for a moment as those soft, longed-for lips moved enthusiastically against hers in a rather awkward, inexperienced effort. But the moment she registered what was happening, that she was actually kissing Severus Snape--the scientist, the spy, the sum of all her fantasies, she whimpered and kissed him back feverishly, pressing as closely as she could get and enjoying the feel of his long, elegant fingers on her face, in her hair.

He was a quick learner, just as she knew he'd be, and he began to match her pace. Severus made a small sound in the back of his throat when she swept her tongue over his bottom lip and then sucked it into her mouth. He groaned, and she took advantage, sliding her tongue teasingly against his and eagerly tasting every bit of him that she could, enjoying the way his fingers tightened in her hair, how his hips unconsciously thrust against hers, and the intoxicating little sounds he was making that were barely audible, but stoked her desire ever higher.

As his knowledge base quickly expanded, so did his confidence. He captured her tongue and suckled it, making her vision white out for a moment, and then he chased it back into her mouth and proceeded to claim her with single-minded dedication. He was curious and creative, sucking and nipping and stroking, filing away each reaction and using it again when he knew the affect would be most devastating.

His pupils were blown, making his eyes looked even darker in the firelight, and focused on her with preternatural intensity. Marian couldn't get enough of him. He smelled like spices and winter and man. She traced a trembling finger along one of his cheekbones, so sharp under the soft skin. Even under the heavy wool of his robe, she could feel the contours of his lithe body. He was tall and lean and she knew that underneath his robes lay absolute treasures. He would have a pale, lightly muscled, scarred but still beautiful body…and that body was currently hard for her.

The wizard was so innocently sensual, bending his head to taste her neck and collarbone. When he reached her pulse-point, his teeth scraped lightly and wrung a surprised cry from her throat. "Oh…yes! Please, Severus," she begged incoherently, drawing his lips back to hers, devouring him and tugging his hair, which made him nearly sob with want.

She ran her lips over his pale, beautiful throat, and then followed up with her tongue, licking and sucking and gently biting, all the way to his ear. One hand pulled his hair and the other squeezed his pert, adorable bum. Completely undone, he gasped harshly, as she whispered in his ear, lips feathering against his skin, "Marry me, love. Yours is the only beauty that calls to my heart."

In between kissing his jaw and tasting every part of him she could reach, she panted, "I have a house just outside Florence. We could go through Tuscany, hop over to Venice, Rome, anywhere you want, do anything you want. You could read all day. Or we could see the sights, swim in the sea, eat fine food, go to the museums or operas or libraries…stay in bed."

She brought his lips back to hers and kissed him desperately, needing to taste him, needing to love him. It was hard to concentrate on words when his clever fingers slipped into her robes and went exploring, but she managed to bite out, "And at night, we'll drink excellent wine and scheme diabolical schemes, and then…we'll lie down, and I'll kiss you—softly at first, and then hot, wet, and thorough…and after that, all over your body."

At her words, he came with a soft, beautiful cry, muffling the sound against her neck. She kissed him slowly, savoring the slowly cooling skin, and stroked his long, sinewy back. He pressed into her touch like a little cat, and Marian's heart swelled with affection. "God, I adore you. Marry me tomorrow and let me show you how much," she whispered impetuously, pressing one last kiss to his addictive throat. "Do we have a bargain, liebling?"

Raising dark, dazed eyes to meet hers, he replied in a warm, velvety tone that she had never heard before, but which made her shiver with happiness and arousal. "There was never any doubt," he murmured.

And just like that, Severus Snape, the spy, the scientist, the single most fascinating man she had ever met, was hers.