Chapter Six: A Couple's Lament

She stared after him, momentarily at a loss for words. "Then talk, Snape."

He turned to regard her, as one would a child. "In here."

"Why?"

He sighed and pressed a finger to the throbbing vein in his temple. She hated that vein. "Must I have reasons for everything, Ciera?"

"Yes."

The vein throbbed again, more insistently this time. She wondered vaguely if he would ever become so enraged that the thing would simply burst from the pressure. "I have a feeling that this conversation is one that would be more pleasant if we were seated."

Somehow she doubted that any conversation with him could be classified as pleasant, but she followed him into the room nonetheless. He was seated tensely in his customary black chair, his hands folded in his lap. She remained standing, leaning against the wall across from him. "I'm waiting."

He arched an eyebrow at her, then shrugged. "Very well. I wish to discuss the... interesting... addition of Moody to the staff." Interesting. That was his universal word for anything that he disliked. The agreement to share the same set of rooms had been interesting. Her suggestion that she know the passwords to said set of rooms had been interesting. She had even overheard him describe her as, of course, interesting.

"Then discuss it."

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but it requires two people to hold a discussion. And since I am not graced with another's presence at the moment, you are that second person."

She raised her eyebrow in a mirror of him and intoned, "... interesting."

He was not amused, but didn't respond to her sarcasm. "To get to the point and by doing so sooner ending our discussion, I fear that Moody's arrival may have several unpleasant effects, particularly involving us."

She smirked. "Afraid he'll steal me away, are you Snape?"

"No," he snarled, his dark eyes glittering. "Quite the contrary. My fear gravitates around the chance that he could potentially throw light on the lie we have been living for the past fifteen years and therefore ruin us all. He would not hesitate to do so, as he despises all Death Eaters. We both were in league with Voldemort..."

"I know that," she snapped.

"... and that makes us lower than scum in his eyes, no matter what our alliances are now. He wouldn't care, and neither would the families of victims of Death Eaters. Crouch would have our asses, and Dumbledore's as well. And forgive my aversion to misery, but I do not wish to rot in Azkaban."

She was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. After a long pause, she raised her eyes to his. "So you think that he knows as well?"

He straightened. "You suspect him?"

Not that she would admit it, but she was terrified of him. Her, a former Death Eater, terrified of a man. She, who had killed without a thought, who had tortured, maimed, and murdered, who had stared Death in the face without blinking... was terrified. There was no use denying the pounding in her chest when she had recognized him, no use attempting to forget the blind fear that chilled her when his gaze had fallen on her. She could not lie to herself. But she could lie to Severus. "I do. He spoke to me after the banquet."

"And to me, later. I saw him follow you. What did he say?"

"I don't remember precisely. He... pried, it seemed. Asked questions that one just introduced to you would not ask. Of course... he is no ordinary person. People say he is insane."

"Verily so," he answered. "He is."

"Do you suspect him?"

He sighed, running a hand through his lank hair. "I do not know what to think, Ciera, besides that we must keep up our charade, especially now."

Suddenly weary, she sunk down into a chair across from him. "I suppose so."

"I know so. If he suspects anything of you or I, we must quell it now."

"Okay." She paused. "How?"

He was a long while in responding. "We must act as a married couple, I suppose."

Her mouth went dry, she was sure of it. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You act as if you have never had romantic interaction, Ciera."

Of course she had, but she doubted his experiences greatly. She closed her eyes as a wave of memories escaped the hold she had once had on them. Tomas sat across from her instead of Snape, smiling crookedly, self-assured and alluring as usual. She shook her head once and opened her eyes. "I have had my share, Snape," she answered curtly, "and know perfectly well how to conduct myself. But do you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I will manage, thank you."

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. "So... what exactly do you want to do to... persuade him of our authenticity? Snog in the rosebushes like hormonal children?"

"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed, shuddering.

She glared at him. "Excuse me?"

With a pointed stare, he regarded her. "No offense meant, but I have no wish to... snog you... or any other woman."

She tilted her head at him, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You aren't... you know..." She coughed delicately into her hand.

His eyes widened at the question of his sexuality and he sat up in his chair, nearly livid with indignation. "Absolutely not!"

The smile blossomed over her face. "Just asking. Anyway, I am interested in what you have in mind for this plan of yours."

"I do not know exactly... I was hoping that you would have some input."

"Frankly, Snape, I have no wish to have any romantic interaction with you."

"You prefer Azkaban?"

"No."

"Then, as the Muggles say, we must grin and bear it."

She pursed her lips as she contemplated this. "Very well... but must I grin?"

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head in the negative. "No, you may wear your customary haughty look of superiority."

"And you may wear your sneer." His lip curled at the comment. "Yes," she said sweetly, "That's perfect."

A growl issued from his throat. "While we are on the subject, you may as well get used to the idea of addressing me by my first name."

"I have no desire to do so."

"Well, I have no desire to hear you do so. But we must."

"Then you must be more pleasant at mealtimes."

"And you must cease your calculated annoyances."

"And you must not ward the door and conveniently forget to tell me."

"And you must not..."

"And you must bathe more often," she cut in suddenly.

He blinked. "What has that to do with anything?"

"If I must touch you, I would prefer you clean."

He snarled. "I am clean."

"With soap?"

"Of course," he snapped.

She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. "If you say so."

"Would you perhaps care to observe my bathing habits then, Ciera?"

This time she shuddered as she rose from the chair. "I believe that I would rather inform Moody myself that I happen to have a nice little tattoo on my left arm." She glanced down at him. "I am going to bed."

He looked up. "You don't think that we should..."

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to look at him. "What?" she asked cautiously.

"Humor me, please. I cannot myself believe that I am even thinking of this. But it would be less suspicious if we... shared a room."

She bit her lip, almost hard enough to cause it to bleed, and walked to the doorway of her room. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned to him. "You are not setting foot in my room, Snape, or I will be forced to kill you." Then she firmly shut the door, and he could hear the sounds of her setting the various wards on it.

"Well," he muttered, picking up a dog-eared book to read, "I'm glad we cleared that up."

Her voice came through the wood, sounding far-away but no less sarcastic than if she were still standing in the same room. "Nonetheless, Snape, it was an interesting idea. Very... interesting."

END CHAPTER SIX

Author's Note: Ah, another chapter. And whipped out in about one hour too... pretty good.

One must love the Snape/Sinistra bickering.

You just must.