The Potions Mistress

Chapter Eight: A New Journey

I left on an indefinite sabbatical shortly afterward. There was no dearth of superbly qualified former apprentices of mine to fill my post. I have since traveled the world and the seven seas, as the song goes, posing as a Muggle tourist and sending regular updates and postcards to my friends.

Six years later I stand on a cliff in Ireland's western coast, staring out into the distance. Across the ocean lies my old homeland... I have been there several times in my leisurely tour of the globe. But what next, where to next? I have achieved all my goals and heaps besides.

"What more can I ask for?"

"What about someone to share it all with?"

I know that voice. I whirl abruptly to find myself looking into the fathomless obsidian orbs of my old mentor.

"That is, if you would consent to less august company than your own?"

I am trembling, with what precise emotion I cannot say. He comes closer, places his heavy cloak around my shoulders, and leaves his strong arms there. I lean into his warmth, completely dazed. Magical folk age much more slowly than Muggles, sort of a recompense for our lower numbers. In his seventies, Headmaster Snape still stands tall, lithe and sinewy. I can only discern his age by the slight faltering in his graceful movements, the additional lines in his visage, and the iron gray hue his hair has slowly acquired. He turns my face up gently and traces my profile with those long elegant fingers. I sigh.

"Ever since your return to Hogwarts you have been on my thoughts constantly. I respected and admired you long before that. I could not honorably pursue you then, with all the world before you, ripe for your promise of greatness. Now your previous rhetorical inquiry grants me permission. What say you, my dear lady?"

I close my eyes against his touch. His thumb traces my lips lovingly. I turn fully into him, drawing my arms under his, letting my hands come to rest upon his broad shoulders. His other hand caresses my lower back tenderly. Ever so slowly his hand tilts up my face. He leans forward and our lips meet. At last the cliché feels true. This is home sweet home. He is nectar and I am parched, and it seems ages before we surface from those exquisite depths.

"Headmaster..."

"Severus, my lady."

"Severus..." I whisper. It sounds like velvet, honey wine and deep forests under moonlight.

"Yes, dear lady?"

"I came to Europe because of you. My life's dream was to emulate you. I could never idolize you; you do not lend yourself to that. But I suspect I have always loved you one way or another, then as a child, now as an adult. Still this never occurred to me. Now you are here, and I...

"Yes. I want to see where this leads us... I honestly cannot imagine with whom else I would share the rest of my life."

"Neither can I, my lady."

"Marissa."

"Marissa" he repeats, and his rich baritone reverberates throughout my body. I kiss him passionately, losing myself in that delectable mouth as he plunders mine. At last in the arms of my equal, I discover what it truly means to feel, not just pleasure, but the abiding completeness of pure, unfettered joy.

The End.