Chapter 44: The Two Kinds of Victory

From her vantage point just inside the bedroom door, where she stood breathing deeply and trying to regain control of herself, Marian heard his softly-voiced words. A moment before, she had thought that she could not be more exhilarated and aroused than she already was, but his velvety voice seemed to bypass her ears and course directly through her bloodstream, proving her very, very wrong.

Marian had barely survived phase one of Operation: Seduce Severus. She didn't know if she could continue to torture him without spontaneously combusting. Every now and then a tremor still passed through her, and her body was racked and throbbing with unfulfilled desire. She felt like a superheated liquid, heated beyond her boiling point, and yet not boiling. It was maddening, and she prayed that he surrendered before she did.

Knowing better than to attempt sleeping next to him in her current state, she helped herself to a dose of freshly-brewed Dreamless Sleep from the medicine cabinet and changed into her nightgown. Belatedly, she realized that she had offered him nothing to eat, and took a few steps towards the door to rectify the situation. But she had forgotten how quickly this particular draught took effect, and her eyelids began drooping where she stood. Moving as though in a trance, she managed to stumble back to the bed before collapsing on top of the coverlet in a dead sleep.

This was how Severus found her when he entered an hour later. He had been filled with ferocious energy, unable to concentrate on his reading. Eventually, he had crossed the room and poured himself a splash of bourbon with shaking hands, not even bothering to add the ice. He drank without tasting, and it helped steady him—but only a little. The normally imperturbable wizard found himself completely undone by Marian. And the thought of her in the bedroom, possibly waiting for him….Well, he knew that if he entered now that he would agree to anything she suggested. But he was in an unpredictable state, and might just as easily take her right there on the bed, which wasn't his plan—well it was, but the timing was all wrong.

When he finally mastered himself enough to face her (rationalizing that surely she must be asleep by now), he entered the bedroom, and saw her carelessly draped over his side of the bed in a deep, peaceful sleep. In spite of the lust the sight invoked, a wave of tenderness washed over him with more power still. She looked innocent and young, her petal-soft lips moving slightly in her sleep as though she were whispering a prayer. Severus more than loved her. As he gazed on, he felt an unshakeable sense of responsibility for the precious creature before him. He must let nothing happen to her. No matter how long he had to deny himself the physical expression of his love, he would endure, he would—

But at that very moment, when he was at the pinnacle of his selfless reflection, she happened to sigh his name in her sleep. The word felt like a physical caress, and he was hard—instantly. Just like that. Great Merlin, but he was in trouble, Severus thought, as he quickly escaped through the side door into the bathroom.

The next morning, Marian woke up alone, tucked carefully under the covers. She might not have known Severus had been to bed at all, if it wasn't for the rumpled sheets on his side of the bed. But he had come in after her and risen before her. Her heart still pounded when she thought back to the night before. Lying back on her down pillow and stretching languorously on the soft, midnight blue sheets, she smiled to herself, remembering his honest, intense responses to her.

Her troubles seemed to have evaporated after Severus' disclosure, and in the face of her revived optimism, the Spinner's End fire no longer seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to her wedding.

She rose and dressed, debating wearing something sensual, but opted against it, wanting Severus to let his guard down. Throwing on her most flattering pair of jeans and a thin long-sleeved shirt, she finished the ensemble with an azure fleece that emphasized her trim waist. She found herself donning Muggle clothes less and less frequently, because Severus always wore wizarding robes and also because she ventured into the magical world far more than the one she had grown up in. Besides, robes felt snug and cozy in the wintertime. But she missed her old wardrobe, and decided that she might as well show Severus a little variety.

Before she could go seek him out, and she was fairly certain that he had made his way to the lab….What was he doing there? …she considered calling her sister for man advice. Elaine had always been popular with men, and had perpetually had a boyfriend almost from the minute she entered puberty. Even though younger, she could probably give Marian a few pointers.

She picked up her cellular phone from where she had casually tossed it onto the bedside table some days ago, and then blinked and stared at it for a moment, slightly surprised. Apparently, she had four missed calls. It had been a long time since anyone had contacted her this way, although after telling her family that she was about to be married, she should have been expecting more communication with them. Glancing at the caller id, she saw that one call was from Elaine and that the other three came from her sister-in-law, Rachel. Curious, Marian decided to return Rachel's calls first. Typically, she only talked to her about once a year. It was unprecedented for her to seek her out.

"Well it's about time you called me back!" her sister-in-law greeted brightly. Rachel's speech was characterized by a clipped precision. She retained little of the drawl that might have revealed her Midwestern origins.

"Marian, congratulations on your wedding! We're all so excited to meet your fiancé. The other night when you called, Andy hogged the phone. So, tell me all about your guy!" she gushed.

She liked Rachel, although this was the most animated she had ever heard her, except when she had been extolling Andy's football triumphs. Rachel was an accountant, and had been her brother's college girlfriend. Marian's family had been surprised that the two had ended up together. Andy had been a football star at the school he had traveled out of state to attend, and they had expected him to choose a woman based on superficial merits alone. But when he had introduced Rachel, she was nothing like the blonde, big-breasted bimbo they had been expecting, although she was very pretty, with silky brown hair and shrewd, almond-shaped hazel eyes. And she was smart, which had been the greatest surprise of all.

Andy possessed an impressive intellect, and he and his twin had even been considered gifted as children, but he hadn't cultured his mind, preferring to focus on sports and video games. Now he worked a dull desk-job with very little mental stimulation, although he displayed a keen wit on occasion, and breathed life into any social gathering.

Marian and Rachel had never had much to say to one another, because her sister-in-law had always plastered herself to Andy's side during visits, displaying no interest in getting to know the other members of the family, although she had always made a token effort with Andy's twin, Alex, who had resented her for a few years—until he found a woman of his own. But whatever mystery surrounded her, it was obvious that Rachel loved Andy, and she was a good and patient wife to him. Even though her work required her to be neat and meticulous, she lightened up in her own home, and didn't make a fuss over Andy's slovenly habits, or the number of pets he took into their house. Andy had a very kind heart, and couldn't resist any animal that looked hungry or neglected. Others might have called the pound to come pick up the unfortunate creature-Andy had to adopt it.

Marian smiled and confessed, "If I start listing his attributes, I won't be able to stop. But just imagine everything that a man should be…double it….And you still won't have a Severus."

"You have it bad!" Rachel exclaimed gaily, "I can't wait to meet this impressive man. That was one of the reasons I called. Thanksgiving is only a little over a week away, and we wondered whether you both might want to come down and visit. Everyone else will be there and we'll have plenty of space if you want to stay with us. Elaine and Mike always stay in the Holiday Inn that's a few minutes' drive from the house. Alex and Jen usually sleep at our house, but their kids are dying to swim in the hotel pool, and so they finally caved this year and have gotten the suite next to Elaine's. Our home should be really quiet at night, because we'll only have the little one. Jake is going to stay with his cousins."

"I'll bet Shelly isn't too happy about being left out," Marian commented in amusement.

She heard Rachel sigh on the other end of the line. "No, she's been sulking and driving me crazy. But she's only five, and it wouldn't be fair to saddle Jen with her. Shel still gets really whiny when she's tired, and I have enough trouble keeping her to her bedtime. There's no way that she would settle down enough to rest if she was staying in a hotel room with her older cousins," she relayed.

"I guess not," Marian answered wryly, holding the phone to her left ear as she made her way into the kitchen.

She spotted Severus heading towards the lab with a cup of coffee in his hand, and, on a whim, said impishly, "Sweetheart, say hi to my sister-in-law, Rachel."

He rolled his eyes indulgently and murmured, "Hello, Rachel."

With dancing eyes, Marian placed the receiver back to her ear and held Severus' slightly uncertain gaze as her sister-in-law exclaimed in rapturous tones, "Oh, my goodness, Marian! He has the sexiest voice. And that British accent...If melted chocolate could talk, it would sound like him."

Severus heard every word and snorted softly with laughter, before gently placing a hand on Marian's shoulder and bending to kiss her cheek. She watched him with an almost excessive tenderness as he strode quickly away to the sanctuary of his lab. "Hello?" Rachel asked in amusement.

"What? Oh, sorry. I was just watching him walk away….I realize how awful that sounded…" Marian answered, coming back from her daydreams with a flush.

"No comment," Rachel replied, but Marian could tell that she was more than a little amused at her preoccupation.

"Are you two still planning to elope? Because if you're going to get married soon, and aren't planning to have a big wedding, then Thanksgiving weekend would be a great time to do it. The family will already be together…" Rachel said leadingly.

Marian smiled wistfully and answered softly, "You're right. That's a great idea. I would love that….Now, if I can just bring Severus around to my way of thinking…"

"Why wouldn't he agree? You guys are a little old to be afraid of commitment," her sister-in-law replied, with a frown in her voice.

"Thanks for that," Marian retorted drily.

"Stop…you know what I meant. We're almost the same age, so I'm not insulting you or anything. But, why is he putting you off?" she asked bluntly.

Severus' lover sighed and opened the front door. The air carried a distinct chill, but Marian thought that a few minutes of the cold would do her good, help clear her head. "I'm not sure what you know about his job," she began.

"I heard that he's a scientist—chemistry, right?" Rachel inquired.

Marian smiled to herself as she gazed down at the Sorcerer's Stone gracing her ring finger, glinting with an unearthly light. Chemistry indeed. "He is a scientist, but he is also a spy. At least, he was until May. Anyway, his identity has been compromised—through no fault of his own. He played his part perfectly to the end," Marian said adamantly, oddly compelled to make sure everyone knew that Severus had not been lacking as a double agent.

"His former enemies have found out that he survived, and someone burned his childhood home to the ground yesterday. Now Severus has said that it's too dangerous for us to go forward with the wedding….Although I think that's ridiculous! He isn't a player anymore, and I think that the burning was an impotent gesture—a parting-shot! We live on a different continent now. We're not in true danger, and even if we are, he can't think that I'd give him up over it," Marian added petulantly.

There was silence on the other line for several seconds after her rushed confession, and finally her sister-in-law whistled and ventured, "A spy? Geez….Now I really want to meet him. But how did you get mixed up in all this, Marian? It sounds like you've certainly been living dangerously since you made your way over to England."

Oh, if you only knew. Smiling to herself, she murmured, "It's a pretty long story…"

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about it at Thanksgiving. Hunted spy or not—you're both still invited," she said firmly.

Marian had secretly always thought Rachel a bit flighty, but the truth was that they didn't know each other all that well. They had only met infrequently over the years, but now that most of her siblings had families, they were making more of an attempt to reach out to the others during holidays, so that their children could have the experience of playing with their cousins.

Surprised that Rachel seemed unfazed by her disclosure, she warmed to her slightly and said, "I would love to come and stay with you guys, but I'll have to talk about it with Severus and then get back to you. I think that we'll probably come, but am not sure if we'll be spending the night. He is in rather fragile condition right now and may need to retire early in the evenings. He's still convalescing and needs lots of peace and quiet."

"I didn't know that. I had heard that he had some sort of injury back in May, and that was why you couldn't come to Mike's birthday party….Is he still suffering from the same problem?" she asked in consternation.

Marian took a breath and answered, "Yes, he was attacked…by a giant snake. Its fangs did terrible damage to his chest and neck. He nearly died."

"You've either become the most awful liar since I last saw you, or you've met the most interesting man I've ever heard of," Rachel replied admiringly.

Marian rolled her eyes and answered, "I know how crazy it sounds, but it's true. It was some kind of python, I think. Selectively bred. Its owner turned it on Severus—it was attempted murder. When we come, you'll be able to see the scars for yourself. No matter what he wears, his collars don't quite hide the throat injuries."

"But would you really be better off at a hotel? There you will have to deal with the hotel staff, loud children, people throwing parties in their rooms….We'll keep the house quiet for you. Shelly is always in bed by nine o'clock, and we would give Severus his own guest room," Rachel argued, curious to meet this man that seemed more like a character from a movie than a living, breathing man.

"I didn't mean a hotel….I meant that we might sleep at home, and visit with you during the day," Marian clarified.

"But you still live in Tennessee, don't you?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

"That's right," the witch answered at once.

"Marian, are you only planning to spend one day with us? And are you going to drive all the way to Texas for one afternoon? Because that seems like it would be far more wearing on your sick spy," she retorted.

"No! No…" Marian replied with a laugh, "I plan to spend more than a day with you, but we're not going to drive. Severus and I have…other modes of transportation."

"Do you own a private jet now, Marian?" Rachel teased.

"No. Nothing as slow as that. We can travel almost instantaneously," she said, attempting to clarify her words. At this point, she expected Rachel to catch on, but when she merely said, "Oh. I see," rather dubiously, the witch was slightly taken aback.

For the first time since the start of their conversation, Marian detected skepticism in Rachel's tone. Had Andy really never told her about his sister's magic? Taking a breath, she said apologetically, "I know that you must think I'm a pathological liar, but I ask that you suspend judgment until we meet again in person. I'll explain all the things that seem so inconsistent now. I realize that we don't know each other very well, but I'd like to change that. When we come, I'll tell you my secrets and then you'll understand."

"Alright. Sure thing, Marian," she answered, and Marian sighed internally when she heard a hint of wariness in her answer. She wouldn't be surprised if, when she and Severus showed up for Thanksgiving, they came face-to-face with a team of psychiatrists. The thought that Rachel almost certainly didn't believe her troubled her for a moment, but then she smiled and shrugged. No doubt her story would sound like madness to a Muggle, and she had kept her narrative as Muggle-friendly as she knew how. She hadn't even mentioned wizarding wars or Death Eaters, dark lords or magic spells.

Finally registering the fact that she was shivering, she slowly closed the phone and made her way back into the house, Ms. Bear right on her heels, like a fluffy blond shadow. On a whim, she decided to make some homemade hot chocolate. She had been craving it for days, and the microwaveable packets woefully lacked in flavor.

After a few minutes spent hovering in front of a hot saucepan and salivating over the gorgeous aroma rising off of it, she finally poured the thick contents into two mugs and cast Warming Charms on them. She carried one drink in each hand and made her way out of the kitchen and down the hallway, careful not to spill. To her pleasure, Severus had left the door of the lab ajar. In his own subtle way, he was extending an invitation to her.

She hesitated for a moment in the entrance, watching him as he hovered over two smoking cauldrons, whose fumes mingled together in an array of interesting, iridescent colors. The light seemed to bend and halo around the gaunt wizard, who wore his dark robes with a regal carelessness. As he masterfully worked his magic, his superlative ability shone through and lent a timeless beauty to his stark, graceful form. Contemplating his cauldrons, he appeared every inch the medieval alchemist or classical philosopher. Although he seemed totally engrossed and never turned towards her, suddenly the fumes dissipated and she realized that he must have cast some sort of Stasis Charm on the twin potions.

"Is it safe to come in?" she asked, catching his eye when he turned sideways and began removing his gloves. The man must have known she was there from the start. He really did have preternatural hearing.

"Perfectly," he replied serenely, and then he noticed the mugs for the first time. She saw his sensitive nostrils quiver and he asked, "Chocolate?"

"I was in the mood for some," she confided, stepping towards him. Inexplicably, her action took on an added significance for her. For just a moment, her eyes were opened and she saw that her manner was far more like that of a votary carrying a libation to a shrine than a woman dropping off a drink. She laughed softly, in a tone tinged with self-mockery. Severus eyed her with a raised brow, but she couldn't tell him that she laughed at the insight that she wasn't merely delivering his beverage, but carrying an offering, an offering to Severus the force of nature, Severus the man.

Watching him as she walked, she took in the proud, ruthless lines of his face, his cruel, slender lips and those dark eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts, but much of his gifts. One glance told her that he missed nothing, that he possessed an unusual mind that combined the highest capacities of reasoning, observation and intuition. But no matter what he saw in her, his face didn't betray it, and neither did his slim, straight body, which seemed always tensed for sudden, explosive action, even in his most languid, casual gestures.

Marian had always been attracted to his face. She hadn't understood why at first, but now she realized that it possessed a curious integrity. There was a certain naked honesty and overwhelming masculinity in its pale, chiseled planes. His eyes, cold and incisive, luminous with dark mystery, pierced their targets with level, forthright glances. Others had called him ugly, which Marian found inexplicable, not grasping that her instantaneous, violent attraction to his looks said more about her own character than she realized.

She had finally seen the one face that embodied all the things she valued, and had known instinctively that she must never completely lose sight of him. She wouldn't be able to bear it if he and the virtues he represented disappeared from her world. And now that he lived with her, she had lost count of the number of times she had watched him sleep and work, suffer torment and struggle to master unfulfilled desire. She had witnessed some of his most personal moments…and yet she never fully got used to his everyday presence in her life.

Each instant with him seemed somehow silvered with light. No matter how absorbed she became in her tasks, she could never completely forget his presence, or the joy that he caused to burn inside her, like a fiery coal in her chest. Just as the jewel of incalculable value that she wore on her finger, the unfathomable wizard never truly escaped her awareness or lost a shade of the meaning she had felt when she first began to ponder his face, figure, his remarkable mind. Tonks was wrong, she thought in sudden discouragement. Severus Snape was made of granite and titanium, flame and ideas-not flesh and blood. Marian's hand shook and the ceramic mugs made a slight clanking sound as she placed them down on an unused countertop.

To fill the pregnant silence, he commented slyly, "Perhaps my voice is to blame," referring to the snippet of phone conversation he had overheard.

Severus picked up his drink and barely spared the contents a glance when he took his first sip. He quirked an eyebrow at the unexpectedly rich flavor and came back for a deep, satisfying draught of the warm beverage.

She laughed happily and murmured, "Perhaps it is, but I'll never tell….Is it to your liking, Professor Snape?"

"Mmm, yes. It's delicious," he replied, his eyelids drooping for a moment as he savored the drink.

Marian paced over to his side and peered down into the cauldrons. "What are you working on, sweetheart?" she asked curiously.

"An experiment," he answered gravely, before gently tugging the end of her braid and adding, "If it works, it will be a wedding present to us."

His reply heartened Marian, and implied that, in spite of his talk of a delay, he still intended their wedding to take place soon. Suddenly feeling playful, she raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, causing him to blush and mumble, "No, Marian….Nothing like…whatever you're thinking…"

Surprised at his uncharacteristic bashfulness, Marian took pity on him, leaning forward to sniff his concoction and inquiring, "You've put it under a Stasis Charm?"

He nodded, regaining his poise in an instant, although his eyes darted quickly back and forth between her and the cauldrons. He realized that she knew little about potioneering, and that it would be almost impossible for her to decipher the nature of the experimental potion he was working on, but he still felt a little nervous to have her examining it so closely. "You shouldn't go about sniffing random experimental potions," he chided, trying to regain his composure, "It could be very dangerous. With some concoctions, the fumes are just as deadly as the taste. Also, many potions that are perfectly harmless when fully brewed are deadly in many of their stages of development."

She colored slightly and inclined her head in acknowledgement. In genuine interest, she asked, "Do Stasis Charms work on all potions?"

"All but a few. There are some that require continuous movement, and are so temperamental that even a magical pause will ruin them. Most allow for breaks. The Wolfsbane didn't, which was one reason why it was so incredibly exhausting to brew," he murmured, taking in her lovely, intelligent gaze as she nodded in understanding. His eyes dropped to caress her neck and her lithe figure, and he felt a little thrill go through him at the thought that this marvel of nature was his—his alone.

He took another sip of his drink and prepared to ask about the results of her phone conversation, when Marian took a step nearer to him on the pretext of taking a closer look at his workstation. She had intended to ask him about going with her to visit her family, but found herself inexplicably fascinated by the Potions Master in his natural setting. She loved to observe him work and rarely had the opportunity. It had never occurred to her to intrude on him on his workspace simply for the pleasure of watching him.

He operated seamlessly in the lab, completely in his element. To her, Severus seemed focused and masterful, and his movements possessed incredible artistry and grace. She never admired and wanted him more than when he was in the lab. Somehow, and she wasn't exactly sure how, it was the place where his genius, power and masculinity most often combined with a force that left her reeling from an overwhelming attraction.

"When you were stirring earlier, I noticed that you occasionally changed direction….Why?" she asked in a faint, cracking voice.

Slightly surprised by the question, which none of his students had ever bothered to ask, he replied gravely, "I've found that creating a counter-current sometimes improves the efficacy of the potion by canceling out the forward motion. Surely a paddler understands," he said, eyes glinting with warmth at his witch.

"But you have to feel your way," he continued, taking the surprised widening of her eyes for an answer, "Sometimes you sense that a particular ingredient needs to be emphasized in the mixture, but know better than to upset the Arithmantic calculations by varying the amount. Altering the direction of the stirring is an uncommon technique….I doubt that I am the first ever to utilize it, but I am the first to be published on the subject."

"You know that you're brilliant, don't you?" she asked admiringly. It was a rhetorical question, but he nodded unselfconsciously, like a man perfectly aware of his own worth—at least in this area. The corners of his mouth turned up in the shadow of a smirk, giving her to understand that he knew that he was brilliant, that he knew it was arrogant of him to know, and that he didn't care. She broke into a peal of delighted laughter, and Severus smiled widely in answer, unused muscles responding to the flicker of joy he felt at seeing her happy.

Marian told him confidentially, "I'm going to read all of your work—even the potions articles…not that I'm likely to understand them. But now I'm rather curious."

He laughed aloud, and it made him look young and strangely sweet. "There's no need to bore yourself with that rubbish," he snorted, "It would only be of interest to potioneers, and even them, not very much….But I can illustrate the basic principle for you, if you'd like," he offered, uncertain whether she would decline, her interest not as great as she had pretended.

But Marian's face lit up and she exclaimed, "Yes, please! I would love that."

In spite of himself, he was delighted, and a smile of satisfaction touched his thin lips. "Very well," he purred, "Allow me to fetch the ingredients we'll need for the demonstration."

He had set up stone counters against the three back walls of the room. Severus had completely covered the wall where the door was located with shelves loaded down with ingredients and equipment. It occurred to Marian that it might be wise to do some demolition work in the coming days. Severus' lab looked a little cramped, but knocking out the wall and expanding into the empty room next door might give him the additional space he needed.

After a moment spent tinkering with some of his equipment, he made a few trips to various locations in the room, and finally returned to her when he had procured two cauldrons, two stirring rods, and a few flasks. "There's no need to go through the whole brewing process. I've thought of an abbreviated way to show you what I'm talking about. We'll set up two cauldrons, and you'll pour the first two ingredients into the first one, and then, when you add the third, I want you to stir seven times clockwise. You will then duplicate the process with the other cauldron, except, after the seventh forward stir, you'll give it one counterclockwise stir, and then we'll observe whether there is a difference in your results."

She nodded eagerly, before walking to the side of the room and quickly unzipping her fleece and draping it over his stool. She stood before him in a paper-thin, cotton blouse that skimmed over her curves and emphasized the delicacy of her form. His eyes drank her in like nectar, but he quickly glanced away and procured a pair of dragon-hide gloves for her. They were charmed to size themselves to fit whatever hand they covered. She didn't really need gloves for what they would be doing—he just wanted to see her wear them.

Marian looked over her workstation and took note that all of the ingredients she would be using were clear in color. She joked, "You aren't just giving me three containers of water, are you?"

He favored her with an amused, somewhat long-suffering glance and answered tetchily, "Marian, just because a liquid is colorless and transparent does not necessarily mean that it's water."

She smirked up at him over her shoulder and asked, suddenly all business, "Okay, so how much of the first one do you want me to pour?"

He indicated a line on the beaker with one beautiful translucent forefinger. Marian poured carefully, hyper-aware of his shrewd eyes on her. When it came time to add the second ingredient, she felt Severus' breath on her ear and completely lost her focus, hastily adding the mixture to the cauldron and causing a few drops to splash out onto the counter. "Oops," she murmured, chagrined, glancing up to meet his eyes in apology.

"Don't worry about it. It's only water," Severus responded sardonically.

"You scoundrel!" she shot back, smiling to herself. Severus was too clever for his own good, and she loved it. She elbowed him gently, or rather, she pressed her right shoulder against his chest and leaned into his warmth for the space of a breath.

Pleased that he had succeeded in riling her, he replied with mock-severity, "Mind your cauldron."

"If you finish that sentence and call me a 'dunderhead', I'll have to think of a way to make you suffer," she teased.

He chuckled and murmured, "Marian, I seriously doubt that you could do anything that would make me suffer more than I already am…especially at night."

"That sounds like a challenge," she purred, stirring the cauldron until it turned a cloudy blue.

"You did it—that's the standard color. Don't move the stirring rod for a few moments. Let the mixture stop churning first….Yes, that's it, pull it straight up, but let the tip linger for a moment on the surface so that it won't drip when you take it away…" Severus was momentarily distracted. His skillful hands had been itching to take over the stirring. As much as he loved her and saw everything she did in a rosy light, he couldn't help but hate to see poor stirring technique.

Finally remembering her words, he answered provocatively, "Well, if you feel challenged, then by all means, do your worst, my dear. I can take it….Anytime you're ready, Marian."

"Not in the lab. Besides, revenge is a dish best served cold, Severus," she answered primly, as she prepared to begin on the second cauldron.

This time, he crowded her, pressing his torso against her back and placing his large, warm hand over hers to guide the stirring rod, causing her to tremble in spite of her best efforts to look unruffled. Breathing in her ear, he whispered, "Go slowly. And mind how you hold the stirring rod. The slightest angle can yield radically different results—if you change it by a few degrees even for a moment. Hold it upright."

Letting him steer her hand with a skillful grip, she marveled, "There are so many variables! I don't understand how anyone manages to navigate them and create new potions."

With a trace of humor in his lovely low voice, he commented, "It's an exact art. One can become a competent brewer through practice, but a special intuition is needed to be able to invent and modify potions. That is why there are significantly fewer original potions than there are charms and curses."

After he urged her hand to complete the one counterclockwise stir, he stilled her motion. At once, the liquid in front of them turned a pure, aquamarine blue. Its clarity and beauty were far superior to the first potion's, even though its colors were in the same range. "Do you see? This is the better mixture," he confided.

Marian didn't understand why she was so thrilled by their little experiment. But she loved learning new things, and she loved learning them with him. She wanted to be able to appreciate his tremendous talent, which every newly-learned tidbit of potions knowledge made more apparent to her. She felt so privileged to have him. Severus Snape was not just gifted—he was a prodigy.

He began to clean up, and noticed her face fall when he unceremoniously Vanished the contents of their two cauldrons. "We didn't make anything viable," he said apologetically, "But if you like, next time we could brew a potion from start to finish."

Marian brightened at that, and he felt something tighten in his chest in response. He turned away, carefully drying equipment and putting it back in its place, while she watched him from under her lashes with devouring eyes. When he turned around, he saw that she had transfigured his stool into a recliner. "Marian," he complained, "That chair has no place in a lab."

Setting her shoulders, she picked up both of their half-finished cocoas, which were still under the blanketing protection of the Warming Charm, and beckoned him forward. "Maybe not," she answered readily, "But for that matter, neither does a convalescing wizard."

"I'm perfectly alright," he grumbled, but he sank gracefully into the seat and moodily took his mug from her hands. Marian fondly stroked his hair, and then the cloth between his shoulder blades. No matter how many times she touched him, she always hesitated for half a heartbeat before reaching out. She knew that he welcomed contact from her, but it still seemed too wonderful, and she couldn't quite make herself believe it.

Making a swift decision, the witch deftly cast a Cushioning Charm and sank down before him onto the wood, which Severus had covered with magical, nonporous sealant. He half rose, and looked as though he might complain, but Marian forestalled him with one slim raised eyebrow.

"You are better than you were," she conceded, "but you're still on the mend. I know that your lab has been your sanctuary these past few days, days I've spent driving you away…and I'm so sorry! But I've noticed that you haven't been sleeping well this week, and that you are working far more hours than before. I don't want you to exhaust yourself….You don't know what you are to me," she confessed in a hoarse voice, stroking his knee.

He melted at once. Others may have thought him made of stone, but he knew himself to be her slave. Severus evaded her charge, instead saying gruffly, "Love, get off the cold floor. Transfigure another chair, or sit here with me."

But she only leaned against his booted calf, and replied dreamily, "It's alright. If I get cold, I'll join you. But I like leaning against you, and being far enough away to watch your face while we talk."

His eyebrows rose in bemusement, and he murmured, "I do not understand your whims, but alright….I imagine that you want to talk about your recent chat with 'Rachel'."

It wasn't a question, and Marian stroked his calf over his robe, feeling the hard scales of his dragon-hide boots beneath the thick fabric. There were always so many barriers between them. More than anything, she wanted to be able to see him completely. She wanted to run her hands over his pale, sculptured body, and to kiss that living flesh and feel the subtle play of his muscles under her lips. She wanted to witness this unbreakable, self-contained man trembling in ecstasy, to see his face tortured with pleasure-and she wanted to be the one to bring him to such a state.

Shaking her head to dissipate her erotic musings and quickly dropping her eyes, Marian replied, "Exactly. I was surprised to hear from her. We don't talk very often, but apparently she called me several times over the past few days—because of our engagement."

Severus continued to listen impassively, but she knew that she had his full attention. His hand rested on his knee, inches away from face. It embarrassed her how aware she was of those beautiful fingers. Marian continued hesitantly, "In a week, it's going to be Thanksgiving, which has always been a pretty big deal in our family….It's an American holiday that celebrates-"

"I know what Thanksgiving is, Marian," Severus interrupted, his voice dry with fond exasperation.

"Anyway," she continued with a slight flush, "It seems that all of my siblings are planning to go to Texas for the event, where my brother, Andy, and his wife, Rachel, live. She called to invite us to stay at their house. The others will be at a hotel, including one of Rachel and Andy's two children…I told her that I had to discuss it with you first, and that we might need to play it by ear, because you're still recovering."

"Ah yes," he broke in sardonically, "You played the 'sick card'."

Marian playfully tugged on the hem of his robe and asked wryly, "Must you be difficult?"

Just as he opened his mouth to issue an acidic retort, Marian forestalled him by hurrying to add, "I told Rachel that we might come and spend time with them during the day, but sleep at our own house at night. But she didn't understand and seemed completely shocked when I suggested that we had the ability to travel quickly between places. Apparently, Andy hasn't told her anything about my magic. I could tell that she thought I was a liar, especially because earlier in the conversation I had told her that you were a spy, and that you had been attacked by a giant snake. I suppose she thought it was some bizarre attempt on my part to reject their house in favor of a hotel—I'm not sure," she finished in a torrent of anxious words.

He frowned, displeased that the other woman had upset Marian. "If she knows you at all, then she should realize that you're a truthful person. She ought to trust you, no matter how strange your story sounds to her," he replied, his protective gaze flitting over her for a moment. He had put aside his terrible doubt of yesterday, knowing that the problem lay with him rather than her. Severus realized that he had deep fissures running the length of his soul. Trust did not come naturally to him. He had been damaged at a young age, and had grown up wary and perceptive, with very definite ideas about human nature. Love wasn't something he had ever really expected to run up against in his own life, and he still didn't quite know how the advent of Marian should affect his calculations.

Something inside her thawed at his words, and she stroked his elegant hand and murmured, "Thank you, dearest…as long as I hold your respect, the rest of the world is welcome to think the worst. I would like to be angry with Rachel, but my story must have sounded completely insane to a Muggle. Besides, she and I don't know each other very well."

He sat up straight and looked her in the eye. "Would you like to get to know her better?" Severus asked suddenly.

"Yes," she answered with a definitive nod, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said before. It would be nice to show myself to my family as I truly am, and to use my powers to benefit them...But they also have children, and children typically aren't good at keeping secrets. They might talk about us to their friends and be perceived as liars and ostracized, or they might break the Statute of Secrecy, or-"

He laughed softly and turned towards her, his face appearing pale and noble under the hanging light. "Every child believes in magic at least a little...If you and I managed to grow up keeping our magical powers discreet, then I highly doubt that your nephews and nieces will bring down the wizarding world. We won't flaunt our ability in front of the children, but if they catch us in an act, we'll just tell them the truth about magic, and explain why they shouldn't talk about it outside the family," he answered mildly.

She sighed and smiled up at him, "You make everything sound so feasible," she murmured drily.

"Most things are," he replied, not missing a beat, meticulously reaching over to smooth an errant wisp of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. He didn't remove his hand from her for several moments. It was as if an electric current ran through her body, rendering him incapable of pulling away. His hand had barely grazed her hair, but he felt unable to break contact, as if, by touching her, he had involuntarily completed a circuit.

"Well, what would you like to do? About the invitation, I mean. You and I had already planned to visit, although we intended a much shorter visit—just a few hours the day before we were to be married…" Marian swallowed hard.

Severus noticed and a muscle jumped in his jaw. But she was looking at his feet and missed the answering flash of pain in his eyes over the canceled wedding. Pushing past her disappointment, she said resolutely, "I don't want to overtax you. They've invited us for longer than a few hours. I expect that they want us to stay for at least three days…and that is a marathon of togetherness that you are not ready for, trust me."

He wandlessly sent both of their mugs soaring back into the kitchen and conscientiously dusted one of Ms. Bear's white hairs from his black robe. After a moment, he lifted his keen eyes to meet hers and declared ironically, "You don't need to worry so on my behalf. I have spent my life divided between socializing with Death Eaters and corralling hordes of the most awful children imaginable. I don't care what your family is like. Anything short of hosts that murder their dinner guests and feed their bodies to pet snakes will be a step up, as far as I'm concerned."

She smiled wanly, and he added seriously, "It will make you happy to go, and it will be good for your relationship with your family."

"But I don't want to overdose you on people that you haven't even met yet," Marian broke in worriedly.

He expanded his seat and raised her by the hand, settling her in beside him. He decided to press the matter. Severus couldn't bear the idea of her 'sacrificing' for him. The thought left a bitter taste on his tongue, and so he finished with an odd fierceness, "You seem worried that I will suffer in silence, when you know perfectly well that is hardly a habit of mine. I plan to go to great lengths to accommodate your relatives. Let them antagonize me—I will keep a clear head. As long as they treat you well they will face no consequences, no matter what they say to me. But by the same token, I am not a doormat—and never will be again."

Marian believed him. He had gotten carried away by ugly memories for a moment, but soon came back to himself and zeroed in on her attentive face, so soft and delicate but for the eyes, in whose cool depths a watchful intelligence flickered like pale fire. They seemed incongruous to the rest of her face—almost shocking. They were the eyes of a person that had made the terrible choices because others couldn't—the steely eyes of a survivor, not a romantic—and yet they held court in a face of graceful femininity, where they were ringed by long, dark lashes that rested against cheeks of rose-tinted satin. He worshipped her face and form, but he felt an affinity with her eyes.

"I don't want you to have to go alone and unsupported when your brothers and sisters will have their wives and husbands with them," he murmured, gazing at her with a peculiar intensity.

Marian shook her head impatiently before she caught herself. The concept of 'support' was rather unfamiliar to her. She had been on her own for a very long time, but his words softened her and she suddenly regretted her automatic denial. The thought that he wanted to care for her in all of her circumstances, not just the dramatic, dangerous ones, warmed her heart and filled her with relief. She hadn't even known that she had been exhausted, but she was. Years of keeping her own council, setting her shoulders to stride forward foot-by-foot into the darkness—'Alone, alone, all, all alone. Alone on a wide, wide sea'….But not anymore.

She held his hand carefully, so very delicately and lightly, as if she knew that she would cling to it with a desperate, clawing grip if she didn't take particular care not to. Severus eyed her curiously. He knew that his words had evoked something in her, but couldn't decipher her mood. After a long pause, he confessed, "Besides, I always want to be where you are. I think you should go—therefore, I think that we should go."

Quickly fleeing the realm of emotion, Severus' words returned to the logical plane, where he was most at home, "Your family is unfamiliar with our magic, and so it would be best for us to agree to stay with them without a struggle. We can explain the truth of things over the course of the weekend, but since they know nothing of magic, talk of portkeying and Apparating on the front end would only confuse them. But later, once we inform them, if they react unfavorably to the news or if staying there becomes too irritating, we can use my snakebites as an excuse to portkey home early. And if we find that my presence becomes intolerable to them, well, I suppose I could leave early, if you're not ready to go."

She snorted and stroked his hand. "Your presence will not become 'intolerable' for them. They'll be able to see how kind you are to me…that you love me. You are the most fascinating man I've ever met—and I'm pretty well-traveled. A man like you is born only once every couple of centuries…."

"Oh, stop it!" he interjected derisively, pulling his hand away in a fretful motion. He wanted to believe her words, but couldn't. How could he matter so much to her, when he mattered so little to everyone else? How could she see something beautiful in him? How could she understand? He had to fight the staccato beat of his pulse at his temple and the growing knowledge that had started as a whisper in his heart, replying, 'But I do….She does….And she just may, at that'.

Marian had broken off and was eying him in thoughtful silence. Her eyes narrowed in determination and she began to speaking in tones devoid of passion. There was a straightforward honesty to her bearing, as she tilted her head up and held his gaze fearlessly, levelly. "Severus, do you remember when I told you that I didn't love Ms. Bear for her attributes, but that my love for her was based on a totally selfless, 'irrational' affection? Well, I was lying, although I didn't know it at the time. I realize now that I don't love her because she's mine, or because she loves me, but because of what she is—because of her nature. And it's the same with you. I don't love you because you suffered, or because you're the mistreated spy and I feel that you are owed something. I love you because of your virtues and achievements…because you are the highest form of man. You embody everything that holds meaning for me in this world. You are what I would be."

The neglected child still maintained a very definite foothold in Severus' psyche, and he dipped his head at her praise, parting his lips to argue that his society had never been completely welcome to anyone…except her. But Marian anticipated his words, and forestalled them with a gentle kiss on his parted lips. Refusing to pull him down to her again, even though her hand shook with the impulse to do it, she continued to speak, in the same soft, earnest tone of voice, "I know that I could live a thousand years and never find anyone to equal you, and I don't believe that anyone will ever surpass you, because you're not the sort of person that stagnates. You continue to grow wiser, braver, more knowledgeable…and yet you are one of the most unchanging people on this earth. Others compromise a little more of themselves and their values every day—their present selves wouldn't recognize the people they will have twisted themselves into in ten years' time.

"You chose poorly once, but the pains you took to make amends more than wiped out that error. Every lonely night you spent in voluntary servitude at Hogwarts, each attempt you made to save Harry and his friends from the consequences of their reckless adventures, every stolen minute that you spent on a feat of ingenuity for its own sake—knowing that your achievement would earn you no credit or renown, ennobled you and made you the man I adore.

"I had to try to rescue you. I'm sure most of the Order members would revile me if they knew I had abandoned them during the last part of the battle, but I couldn't have acted otherwise. All I could think about was you, and that if you died, I would lose most of what makes this world worth living in."

Her words seeped into his body, warming him even as he struggled against the pleasure he felt. "Marian! Marian, my love, you make too many allowances for me. You deserve better than a 'reclaimed' man. You should have one that never fell in the first place," he trailed off with a whisper.

She scoffed, "Severus, we've all fallen. You're a man—in every wonderful and terrible sense of the word. I don't hold anything against you. You need to forgive yourself. As warped as it sounds, I actually find your past comforting because it means that you understand human frailty and are familiar with temptation—and how to fight it. You're wiser for your previous error, and love me in spite of mine."

"Whatever you have done cannot be compared with the evils I've caused, the suffering that exists in this world because of me-" Severus answered in agitation.

"I highly doubt that, but it's futile for us to compare faults with each other. All I need to know is that when I hold my record up against one with no blemish, against a life of perfect justice, I have fallen short—and so have you," she declared.

"It seems a bit like setting yourself up for failure, comparing your own life with a perfect one," he objected.

"But what other legitimate measure is there? If there is to be any basis of comparison, then we're dealing with absolutes whether we like it or not….Do we call a man that occasionally lies a liar or a truth-teller?" she asked.

"A liar," he acknowledged, a faint smile creasing his lips. He saw where she was headed.

"Exactly, although he must tell the truth far more often than he tells lies…But where do we draw the line? After a few lies? One lie? I think perfection is really the only accurate gauge. It's like the 'zero' in mathematics—although I realize there are philosophical problems associated with that idea as well, when you start thinking about negative numbers and evil and….Severus, I'm rambling. Why haven't you stopped me?" she trailed off ruefully, a wan smile smoothing away the creases of thought that had wrinkled her brow.

As he gazed on her and returned her smile, he felt a familiar ache in his chest and curled his fingers around her wrist, trapping her hand and feeling the faint flutter of her pulse. Severus found the slight thudding under his touch exquisitely soothing. Even though unnecessary, he enjoyed tactile confirmation that she was alive and healthy. She eyed him questioningly and he quickly glanced up from their joined hands and replied lightly, "I wasn't even tempted. It never bothers me to discuss ideas."

"What does it bother you to discuss?" she inquired, leaning closer, drawn forward by the mesmeric power of his eyes.

"Me," he replied sardonically, "How you can think I'm a hero when all I have to show for my many lost, misspent years are a few new potions—pitifully few! I could have done so much more if I'd only had the time….I had thought that I wanted power, when all I really desired was to be left alone to do things my own way. Why did I ever sign my life over to Dumbledore? It accomplished nothing! I didn't save Lily or her husband—I wasn't even responsible for saving Potter! All those years of servitude…and for what? I was naïve. I should have offered him less! What was I thinking, agreeing to do 'anything'? I had heard the old expression that if you pay with a blank check, it's always made out for every penny you have. I knew, and yet I acted as I did! No one else would have been stupid enough to make such an error."

"Stupidity had nothing to do with it. It was a matter of honor, as you very well know," she interrupted sternly, "Others could have chosen differently in that situation—that's true. But tell me this: if you suddenly found yourself transported back eighteen years with the ability to choose again either to betray Voldemort, to continue to serve him or to flee both Voldemort and Dumbledore-even with the knowledge of all the things you would come to suffer—could you have acted differently, being who you are?"

"No," he answered in a low voice, letting his head drop forward like a broken flower.

"And that is why I love you," she answered simply.

He gave a strangled laugh, which sounded more like a muffled cry. "But you are seeing me through rose-colored glasses. You don't know the half of it," he remonstrated bitterly, "Even putting aside the terrible things I did as a Death Eater, which, inexplicably, don't seem to matter to you, my behavior at the school should be enough to damn me in your eyes. Every student there disliked me, and I was universally acknowledged to be the strictest, cruelest and most biased teacher there."

She squared hers shoulders and leaned slightly forward, exclaiming, "And we all know that public opinion is such an accurate barometer of truth….Alright, suppose you behaved as badly as you say. Well, why wouldn't you? All those years spent alone, hoping for someone that would understand, but nobody ever came."

The amazement in his eyes at her words was better than any confession, and so she hurried on ardently, "Do you imagine that I don't know what that's like? I thought that I would never meet anyone that would love me for the things I wanted to be loved for-not just my body and my bank account. I would meet a man that everyone else called handsome, but all I could see were his cloudy eyes, duller than a cow's. Another man would have sharp, intelligent eyes, but a hint of weakness about his mouth, or a certain lack of conviction in his posture. I instinctively turned away from them all—I couldn't help it. They weren't right. I despaired of finding my kind of man, the kind I could love without holding anything back. I'm not the most observant woman, but I tried to keep my eyes open, to catch a glimpse of that most elusive animal—the thoroughly remarkable man—a man of genius, strength and character, who would stand tall and do right, completely indifferent to public pressure.

"I wasn't looking for an object of worship, just—confirmation of something I had almost despaired to find in real life. I hoped to find someone from among the researchers and intellectuals and adventurers I met in the course of my work. But it didn't take long to discover that a curse-breaker I had heard highly of slept indiscriminately with every woman he met. Or that the ambassador to the vampires praised for his silver tongue was a lying, amoral rascal. Or that the young magical historian was a pseudo-intellectual that twisted evidence to fit the fashionable 'social consciousness' of the moment, and was full of self-importance besides.

"Every few years, I would meet kindred spirits, but their lights were dim. I didn't meet a single person that made me proud to call myself their fellow human being, not a single man that I could truly look up to, or who confirmed my hope that real people could be as strong, as capable, as honorable and brightly brilliant as the characters in literature that I was half in love with. I loved these invented men more than the ones I met in the real world—and I bowed my head in shame and despair when people told me that my standards were too high, that I wanted too much, that I shouldn't allow myself more than two or three 'deal-breakers'—more than that and I would never find a man.

"Well, I decided that if I would have to give up so much that I didn't want one. I didn't need one. I know that it sounds arrogant, but I had never met a man that deserved the person I ought to be—the person I felt the potential to become someday if I worked tirelessly to improve myself….But I have gotten far off-topic, Severus. I hope that you don't think I'm a fool. I told you before that I'm a romantic idealist. I'm not proud of it-"

"You should be," he whispered, his voice rough in its intensity.

"But my love, we were talking about you at Hogwarts, so let's return to that. You say you were strict? Why not? You were grasping for whatever order you could catch hold of, when you had given up your own life to someone else's control. And I've met the Hogwarts' staff. The vast majority look like escapees from a Muggle nursing home. You knew that those children lived at school for most of the year, and that when they went home their parents were more likely to spoil or neglect them than to discipline them. The other teachers had no energy and you always had to take over detentions and patrols for then-You see what common knowledge it was if even I knew about that….You had been ignored as a child. You understood that it was far kinder to err on the side of too much discipline than too little."

He nodded once involuntarily before he caught himself and hardened his features, ashamed of his lapse. Marian had noticed his slip, and, moved with compassion, she reverently pressed her lips to his wool-clad shoulder and then pulled back, meeting his eyes and holding his overpowering gaze. She spoke simply, but vehemently as if the passion of her words alone could reach that dark, lonely place inside him that her lips were unable to touch, "But all these things you speak of are only ashes to me. As far as I'm concerned, they are long forgotten….I love you, Severus."

"Love isn't an eraser, Marian," he bit out.

She kissed his palm. She hadn't noticed that she had started kissing him each time he made a stinging comment, but in a way, it neutralized his barbs for both of them. "No, it isn't," she replied, and her tone let him know that she felt he had known better than to say it.

"I'll tell you what love is, Severus. It's been very much on my mind lately," she said, and a hint of vulnerability tinged her words, as though she were dropping her robe and baring herself to him for the first time.

Ensnared by curiosity, he motioned for her to continue, a thoughtful spark glittering in his eyes. She knew that it must have come from the ceiling lamp, but it seemed to originate from somewhere inside him. Marian found it hard to believe that any of Severus' glory could be the reflected sort.

"Love is a decision, but it is much more than that," she began gravely, "If I found you contemptible—or even merely unremarkable, how could I give you everything? How could I love you with everything that I am? I don't understand that kind of love that focuses itself on an unworthy object.

"My heart is not familiar with causeless love, or a love based on obligation. If that were true, I should love everyone that loves me and am disgusting for not doing so, but I can't help that my heart is cold towards Sirius Black…and I like him more than most. As long as my mind retains the capacity to think, my love will not be a blind one….I don't understand that sort of love…It sounds like charity—loving a thing against reason, loving a thing when I can't see its quality or value—and I've told you before that I'm not a charitable woman."

She laughed brokenly, painfully and murmured, "That is not a very Christian thing to say—that I don't want to be charitable…."

"Shall I tell you what I think?" he asked gently. Marian nodded, hoping for his sanction, and yet half-fearing to receive it.

"I think that charity is a fine thing. Give the needy your money, your time, your kindness, if you must….But don't give them your soul! You are far too precious to wind up as a human sacrifice! Why should you chain your hands and feet and give yourself over to a man that wouldn't deserve you—a man that might appreciate your body, and maybe even your mind, but who would be completely incapable of seeing the finer points of who you are?"

Severus took a breath and began to speak triumphantly, the velvet of his voice unrolling like a carpet as he gloried in what he finally told her, "You are the woman that was capable of rescuing a man from Azkaban and bringing him back to life. You single-handedly changed the course of a war. You kept yourself pure even though you thought you would never find the man you sought—you refused to compromise your own sense of justice and take less than you deserved. You're the woman who didn't let her widowed mother spend a single evening alone in an empty house until she died. You created the most sophisticated and advanced methods of transportation that the world has ever seen—Muggle or magical. You invented a Charm that voided the Imperius Curse….You softened and enslaved the cruelest, stoniest heart in all of Britain short of Voldemort's. Don't deceive yourself and imagine that I deserve you. I know that I don't... but I can at least appreciate the things that make you so wonderful.

"I had sworn to protect Harry Potter, but I didn't care for the boy….I needed something to believe in, something to give meaning to the endless progression of stale, slavish years. Every time I crawled back to my rooms after a torture session, every time I paced the empty halls of Hogwarts—as hollow as my chest-I tried to imagine that I was somehow making the world better for someone like you. I thought of Lily and tried to idealize her and imagine that there were more like her out there. But the trouble was, I wanted something more than Lily—but there was nothing more than Lily. There was not even Lily. I had known her, and I had known her limits. I also knew that she hadn't been able to love me. But I still needed her—something like her—to hold onto.

"All around me, everywhere I looked, was only dislike, mistrust and stupidity. Oh God, Marian, the stupidity! I think that was the worst. I tried to teach the students relatively simple concepts, but I could see their eyes glaze, sense their total lack of understanding, and their lack of desire to understand. It was maddening—and I felt mad after a while. And then whenever one child was marginally brighter than the others, or grasped even a modicum of what I had said during a lecture, he expected me to praise him to the skies for his newly-discovered 'genius', and when I didn't, I was berated by the other teachers for not 'fostering his self-esteem' or some rubbish.

"I would rather spend two hours under the Cruciatus than sign on for another year of teaching. And Dumbledore knew it. He knew what it cost me, how much it hurt me—but it was part of my punishment. I was always to be punished—that was the unspoken part of our bargain. He wouldn't grant me a change of subject, even when I was half-crazed with misery. The other teachers couldn't understand what was so bad, what was wrong with me. I tried not to show it, but—they knew. And it only cemented the idea that I was not their equal. They all knew my history and why I was at Hogwarts. I had received no pity from them as a student. I managed to earn their contempt as a professor. And as a headmaster—no! I will not speak of that.

"But Marian, I don't know how to explain what it was like to see the empty stares of those dullards looking up at me every day, and knowing that they were the people I was working to save. They vied with each other over who could learn the least, read the fewest books, scrape by with the least effort. I lost what little heart I had and began posting formulas on the board at the beginning of each lesson. I spoke to the class as little as possible. It was like making speeches in a madhouse.

"But in spite of all evidence I saw to the contrary, I had to believe that there were people like you out there. I didn't want to be like those others—the incompetent majority-they disgusted me. But I also disgusted myself and knew that I didn't deserve to find the things I longed for, and a companion that would understand me. I say 'companion', when what I really wanted was a champion—someone to tell me that I wasn't wrong for what I was…for all the things I needed that the world wouldn't provide me…the things I valued that everyone else spat upon."

"What did you need?" she asked breathlessly.

"To see for myself that there existed one living human that could plausibly have been made in the image of God. I needed to meet someone who was as I might have been—as I suppose I could have never really been. Someone with character and principles, brilliance, strength and will and all the virtues worth having. There are plenty of virtues not worth having, and those are the ones you normally encounter—charity, cooperation, agreeableness for instance. Every now and then, you meet someone with one of the critical attributes—never with all of them. Never anyone striving to be more than they are, and doing it solely for the sake of their own excellence—because they love the truth and are grateful for the breath of life.

"But who am I to speak about truth? I'm a liar—in every sense. My whole life was a deception. And I'm the worst kind of liar, because I love the truth and always have….And it's made me so tired. I wanted to follow a straight path, but had placed myself in an intolerable position. I wasn't at liberty to follow my own principles even if I had had them. I cobbled together a code of my own, but it was as if I heaped together a pile of mud and dubbed it a 'mountain', while I built it in the shadow of a real mountain—such were my morals….Marian, don't listen to me. I'm talking nonsense," he muttered derisively. His fingers suddenly itched for a cigarette. He had never smoked.

"Not at all," she murmured, pondering his sudden outpouring of words. She couldn't remember the last time he had spoken so much and so personally.

He sighed and added tiredly, "Once I thought my ideals were modest—I wasn't looking for the Platonic ideal of man (or woman)—simply for some other person that had a similar vision and tried to live up to it. I was destined for decades of disappointment….But all that's over now. I'm so glad that it was you. I'm glad that you love me, but I'm rapturously, joyously happy that you are what you are…and that you're able to exist in this world at all."

Marian cupped his cheek, softly compelling him to return her gaze, and spoke with an odd triumph in her tone, "I suppose that this is how it feels to look back on a successful quest. I was always searching for you, even when I thought I was looking for something else….It seems that we're among the few that have actually found what they set out to find."

He drew in a quick breath and murmured humorously, "You weren't about to make some comparison to Grail knights, were you?"

She laughed happily and responded, "Am I that predictable? Well, I would have, but I was afraid it would be sacrilegious."

A lightness had appeared in Severus' eyes that hadn't been there even a few minutes before. Being able to unburden himself of those passionate words had worked a powerful catharsis in his psyche. He looked at her softly, with a gentle humor, and Marian mused that when other people looked happy, their eyes shone like sunlight on the water, but not Severus'. Light from any source always lent a silvery, rather than golden, cast to the tall wizard's eyes, making his irises appear to be made of surging molten metal.

Marian remembered that they had been talking about visiting her family, and a rush of protective love for her spy came over her all at once, prompting her to add the non sequitur, "And if anyone in my family even looks at you funny, they will answer to me. I would never choose anyone over you. If you feel uncomfortable there, then we will leave together!"

Realizing by his dumfounded expression that she might have been speaking a bit more vociferously than she had intended, she added impishly, "It's only logical. After all, someone will need to provide cover for your retreat."

"Love, put it out of your mind," he said warmly, tracing the length of her arm, his large, blue-veined hand curving slightly around it and sliding downward possessively.

"Do you really think that there's a chance that they will react 'unfavorably' to our magic?" she asked anxiously, pulling back after a moment and unconsciously licking her lips.

He nearly squirmed in his chair at the erotic sight, but managed to suppress the flicker of desire and spoke comforting words to her. "There is little reason to suspect that outcome," he soothed.

Shifting in his seat, Severus gathered himself to rise and return to work. Marian caught his mood, and joined him, restoring the chair to its former, less comfortable shape. The slim wizard paced towards his worktable, and with his back to her, inquired, "What will they be doing there?"

"A lot of talking and eating. I'm sure my brothers will be watching football, and maybe playing a little football—which I forbid you to partake in, by the way," Marian told him severely, although her eyes twinkled under her lashes. Turning on a dime, he shot her a challenging gaze.

"You forbid it?" he asked in his lush, ironic tones that sent a shiver down her back, reminding her just how strong and capable he actually was. No matter how docile he often seemed, Marian remembered that you could never really tame a tiger.

She swayed slightly towards him without meaning to and replied cheekily, "Yes. The next strenuous activity that you participate in is going to take place in a bed…with me," she added after a beat, just so that there was no misunderstanding.

There wasn't. His eyes dilated and he teased her in his silkiest voice, "I thought you didn't want me to 'overtax' myself."

Reaching out and casually placing her hand on his lower back, Marian shrugged and murmured darkly, "What can I say? I'm selfish."

Her hand lingered on the curve of his spine, but then she suddenly dropped it lower on an irresistible impulse, intimately massaging and cupping one of the well-shaped globes of his backside. Even though he wore thick robes, he still felt every sensation, which shot to his groin in teasing pulses. Immediately, his head snapped up. She met his startled glance with a coy, challenging one.

He delicately set his glass stirring-rod on the countertop, afraid that he might drop it if she squeezed him again in just the right way. She did. He exhaled shakily. And then she massaged him again. Marian had never touched him here before, and he hadn't realized how stimulating he would find it. In response to his implied question, Marian baited, "With that dense heavy robe in the way, who's to say I didn't think it was your back?"

"That was most certainly not my back," he replied primly.

"Maybe not, but it'll never stand up in a court of law," she teased, caressing him once more for good measure, splaying out her finger tips and rubbing him, evoking an involuntary hiss from the spy.

After her extremely arousing behavior the night before, he realized that she was trying to get a rise out of him (literally, in this case), in order to convince him to change his mind about their wedding. He would have to teach her just who she was toying with. And so, with a wicked gleam in his eye, he replied calculatingly, "Good thing I believe in vigilante justice."

Marian took one look at that devilish dark glance before involuntarily squeaking and sprinting for the door, but Severus caught her arm almost at once. The two stumbled out into the corridor and her back bumped against the wall, shaking the pictures a few feet away from her.

Once he had her cornered, Severus eyed her gloatingly for a moment, before swooping down and bringing his lips to hers in a punishing kiss. But the moment their skin touched, it was as though each had been brought into contact with a live wire. Galvanized by the other's proximity, they began devouring one another in earnest. Hands ruffled hair and stroked skin, and lips panted in between bouts of frenzied kissing. "Just—say yes," she moaned, throwing her head back, completely surrendering to his superior strength.

He didn't answer. If he spoke, it would be to approve her words, and he couldn't—shouldn't—give in. Although he was finding it harder and harder to remember exactly why.

Severus' unfathomable dark eyes glinted with lust; his masculine features and strong, virile body enraptured Marian. She wanted to melt into him, to be absorbed into his essence. He cupped her cheeks with both hands and molded his insistent, pliant lips to hers. "Do you intend me to die for love of you?" she gasped, kissing his white throat, sliding her lips against him until her nose rested against his hair, and she breathed in his smoky, intoxicating scent.

He had been overthrown by desire, but her passionate question brought him back to himself. A shudder wracked his entire frame, and he gently took hold of her upper arms and put a little distance between them. In forceful, low tones he answered, "No. That is exactly what I won't allow to happen. We can't get married now, Marian. I will never let your innocent love make you the target of my enemies."

He tried to keep her at arm's length, but she wouldn't have it, and took a deliberate step towards him, the smoldering fire in her eyes holding his prisoner. She goaded softly, "Kiss me again."

"I—I dare not," he responded, quickly glancing away from her burning, provocative glance and swollen, cherry lips. Her braid had partially unraveled and her ruffled, disheveled hair caught the light and formed a halo over her face. She looked deliciously, sinfully unkempt. He longed for her—every fiber of his body, every drop of blood, every thought called out for her.

"Severus, kiss me again," she commanded, in a lower, more carnal tone. He shivered, but looked torn between backing away, calling her bluff, and telling her not to order him about. But in the split second he spent debating with himself, she seized the advantage, and eased forward into his arms once more.

This time she kissed him slowly, sensually, taking her time with him, possessing his mouth completely. She slipped one hand into his hair and tugged it gently, her fingers weaving and tangling in the dark silk, while the other reclaimed his buttock, which she fondled and kneaded. He shifted against her, and she smiled when she felt his erection. Feeling especially daring, she let go of his rear and brought her hand around his hip, to trace the length of him through his robes with agile fingers.

The spy had stayed silent, but when he felt her touch him there, combined with her intense, voluptuous kisses, his breath caught raggedly and he moaned aloud in sheer ecstasy. Marian took the opportunity to tangle her tongue with his in a heated, deliberate way, and curled her hand around his erection, cupping it as she continued to kiss him. Finally, with a gasp, he wrenched himself away from her lips, which pried more of his reason away from him with each pass, each stimulating stroke. If any of his former associate saw him now, they would never recognize this flushed wizard with the wild, desperate look in his eye, mussed hair and thin, but well-kissed lips. He retained none of his usual icy composure and proud bearing. His all-consuming need was laid bare to his lover's eyes, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"We…we must not. I cannot marry you now. Only arguments can change my mind. The body only reasons with the body. If I wasn't so besotted with you—if I didn't love you just a hair more than I want you, I would have taken you months ago, overpowering your virtue and your protests for the chance to drag you down onto my bed. If you wish for your body to continue to bargain with mine, you should at least know what it's bargaining for," he breathed harshly, every sinew in his lean form quivering with his restraint.

Every muscle in his powerful body was tensed, and Severus clenched his elegant hands, desire making his dark eyes glitter and shine with an unnatural light. It was taking every ounce of his formidable willpower to resist going to her, and she could tell. But Marian was drunk on his body, and leaned forward as if impelled by something outside herself, and she showed him no mercy, working her way up his neck with her mouth and stopping with his ear. Teasing it with her petal-soft lips, she whispered, "I have a suspicion."

"What?" he asked raggedly.

"I think that you want to be persuaded. I think that you've rethought your earlier words. You know that our lives are connected now. If anything happens to you, it happens to me anyway, thanks to that blessing of a spell-" her lips brushed his ear.

"Damn you, woman!" he howled, taking her by her upper arms and placing her forcefully away from him, letting go with alacrity, before retreating down the hall, robes billowing, boots thumping—quickly, yet not half so quickly as his pulse. She didn't doubt for a moment that he was cursing himself, rather than her, and that knowledge empowered her to follow him for a few steps and call out to him. He stopped in his tracks, his forward motion arrested so suddenly that the hem of his robe snapped against his legs.

"How much longer can we continue on like this? Living in the same house? Sleeping in the same bed? Do you know that I had to take Dreamless Sleep last night? I don't yet belong to you, but I can never belong to anyone else. I can't give you up—I can't bear a separation—but I'm going mad! If you don't make me your wife, I know I'll end up your whore," she exclaimed.

Marian felt as though the words had been torn out of her. She had completely lost herself in his arms. Lately, his touch had seemed more intense and harder to resist. It shocked her to find that suddenly found desire directing her speech and actions. If someone had told her that morning that she would pounce on Severus Snape in his lab before they were married and fondle him through his robes, she would have died of embarrassment. And yet, that was exactly what she had ended up doing—that, and more.

He turned towards her, and he seemed to have shed his disquiet of a moment before. She would have thought that he was perfectly calm if it wasn't for his tense-as-a-bowstring posture and the hectic glitter of his eyes. "Marian, I love you. I will always protect you to the best of my ability—and that includes from me. You will never be a whore. Never. And so I suppose you win. We will be married whenever you wish it," he said, in a voice filled with suppressed violence.

His reply was like a slap in the face. She had not expected him to give in against his better judgment. She had wanted to convince him and for them both to be on the same page. As things stood now, his agreement only served as a reproach to her. "But I didn't want to win like this," she replied in a small, lost voice.

He eyed her meaningfully, and answered quietly, straightforwardly. His words made her flush with shame. "How did you want to win? What did you intend me to succumb to, if not the tactics you used? Is my consent not enough-do you wish for my approval as well?"

"You know that I always want your approval," she answered in a cracking voice that throbbed with feeling.

"Well, I cannot grant it," he replied laconically, "I still think it's dangerous for us to get married now. I have heard no new arguments or evidence to justify that the threat has passed."

She could only just admit to herself—and not to him—that his ruthlessness had been a great part of what had initially attracted her to him. Marian knew that she possessed a steely strength of will that others shied away from. Her detractors had sneered at her. Men that she had blithely looked past time and again, wrapped in her own thoughts, had called her cold, unfeminine, strange.

Her attention had frequently been drawn to her own otherness when she found herself in groups of women. They touched and hugged and cried over things that seemed incomprehensible to Marian by their very unimportance. And beneath her awkwardness and discomfort had always lurked a diamond-hard kernel of contempt. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried to convince herself that she was the unnatural one, that their reactions were the normal ones. She listened to them when they explained to her that she was repressed, suspicious, unloving. And yet the secret disdain persisted and a voice in her soul whispered: They are weak.

And Marian despised weakness. She had been a young student when her teacher had mentioned a news article where a man had become trapped in a rockslide in the mountains and been forced to saw off the flesh of his arm with a dull pocketknife, and then to break the bone with a rock in order to free himself. It had been that or die. Others in the class had groaned and wrung their hands, protesting that they could never face anything so traumatic, that they would gladly die before maiming themselves. And Marian had been shocked by their reactions.

She had wanted to meet that hiker and shake his remaining hand, because he possessed a crucial element of being a man that these soft fools lacked—the ability to act, the remorseless, undaunted will to survive. Marian had seen too many of the people she loved wrenched out of the world by illness and accident, powerless to resist. But if one had even the slightest opportunity to fight back, to spite death just for a little while…Marian knew without question that she would have done the same as the man on the mountain. If she hadn't had a knife, she would have used a sharp stone, and if she couldn't find a stone, she would have used her teeth.

She didn't shrink from reality, and it disheartened her that others did. Where were the strong? The contradiction bothered her—as a Christian, she should praise the meek and the humble, but those traits left her cold, and she secretly admired qualities of a very different kind. She had wanted to meet just one man that would never bow his head in slavery, no matter what impossible circumstances he found himself in, one that would fight to the end to keep his own will, one wily and strong and proud, always masterful, someone who would meet her hardness with something harder still, someone stronger than her that she could rest in, count on, whose judgment was devastatingly incisive and intelligence pure and cool….She had never expected to meet this man, but he had existed in her heart ever since she had first read the classics, albeit in an amorphous, misty representation. It had been the shock of her life when she had found that this man of her ideals was Severus Snape.

Setting her head proudly, Marian decided that she would try to make amends and declared, "You're right….Then I will just have to acquire that evidence for you."

"You will do nothing of the kind, do you understand? That is the responsibility of the Aurors," Severus told her sternly. He could just imagine her going around interrogating all his enemies, and the thought amused him, but it alarmed him far more.

Nonchalantly, Marian said leadingly, "Tonks thinks it might have been Trotter." He had been about to disappear around the corner into the restroom, but he paused again and turned slowly. "And do you think Trotter was responsible?" he asked directly. His eyes seemed to challenge her and she realized that even though he had only heard one side of her conversation with Tonks, it had been quite enough for him to put together that she now knew everything there was to know about his interactions with Trotter.

It had taken little time for her to regain her self-possession, and she answered, "He might have been," and held his gaze.

She saw a spark in his eyes that might have been admiration, but the skin tightened around his mouth and he replied dismissively, "I think not."

He entered the guest lavatory and closed the door with a decisive click. Marian stood still, and wondered why she felt as if she had been the one to flee the room.

She felt disgusted with herself and wandered into the living room, hoping to waylay him on the way back to his lab and clear up their issues. She didn't want him to pander to her weakness and act against his own conscience and judgment. Marian did not know why she hadn't seen her behavior in that light all along. One did not try to manipulate Severus Snape. Trying to pull one over on him was never any fun, because those clear, steady eyes of his always saw through her effort, and made her ashamed whether he gave in or not—because he did it with full knowledge.

Startled by a red flash of light, Marian spun around in a half-turn, her rapid motion causing a cool breeze to fan her overheated skin. With a soft exclamation of dismay, she realized that someone had Flooed. The timing was abysmal, but there was nothing to be done but to stride forward and answer the call. Marian's feet felt weighted with lead, and her step was more of a slow drag than her usual stride, but she eventually made it over to the fireplace and dropped heavily to her knees. She saw that the caller's hair blending with the fire and knew that it must belong to a Weasley. "Molly?" she asked.

Her friend's smiling, wise eyes appeared first, rising above the half-consumed oak log. As soon as her mouth became visible, Molly remarked knowingly, "He's here, isn't he?"

Marian nodded in surprise, but her friend didn't seem to need confirmation, and pressed on before she managed to incline her head once. "We were terrified for you two when we heard about the fire. I have Flooed six times in the past two days. Why haven't you answered any of my calls?" Molly demanded, a little of her former worry seeping into her tone.

Mindlessly reaching up to smooth her hair and accidentally snagging her fingers, Marian quickly dropped her hand and replied apologetically, "I'm terribly sorry. A lot has happened this week, and I haven't been by the fire as much as I usually am. But yes, Severus has been here the whole time. He wasn't at Spinner's End when it was burned."

"Do you mind if Arthur and I come through?" she asked, ignoring Floo protocol in her concern—and guilt, over the Order's injured, sallow-faced spy.

Rather helplessly, her friend nodded again. "I would love that. Come right through, and I'll go get Severus," she murmured.

With a smile of satisfaction dimpling the cheeks that looked like two firm, ripe apples, Molly answered, "That's fine, Marian. But if he's not well enough to see us…" she trailed off, beginning to reconsider boldly inviting herself.

"He is," the American replied gently, trying to behave graciously and reassure her friend. A moment later, Molly disappeared from the fire, and Marian knew that her arrival was imminent. Marian walked towards the back of the house and saw that the bathroom door stood ajar. Severus must have already returned to his lab. Sighing, she approached, biting her cheek when she realized that the door had been firmly closed after the earlier visit she had paid him. She straightened a picture of Caesar accepting the surrender of Vercingetorix, which had been knocked crooked by their earlier exertions, and then, when she could delay no longer, sighed and raised her hand, knocking gently.

It swung open, and Marian could see Severus still tirelessly at work, measuring a red powder on the far side of the room, his sharp eyes carefully gauging the amount, his practiced hands revealing no sign of hesitation. She realized that he must have used magic to open the door, even while completely immersed in his current task. For a man of such impressive focus, he was a pretty competent multi-tasker.

She waited for him to pour the substance into the cauldron on the left, and then deftly stir it a few times—before turning to her with a patient expression that revealed nothing. Marian couldn't tell whether he was angry with her, irritated by her presence, frustrated, or pleased that she had sought him out again. She spoke up before she could find out. "Love, we're about to have some visitors," she murmured, trying to infuse an apology into her tone.

Her darting eyes noticed the fleece she had abandoned earlier, and she slowly walked over to his stool and picked it up, while continuing to speak. She slipped one arm in and jumped slightly in surprise when she felt Severus' competent hands holding the jacket so she could thread her other arm through.

"Molly Flooed just now, and apparently she and Arthur have been very worried about you—especially after hearing about the fire. She's been trying to get in touch with us and called several times. She asked if she and Arthur could come through, and I would have asked you, but I was kind of put on the spot…" Marian said, zipping up her deep blue fleece. She felt decidedly colder now that she wasn't in his arms.

"It's fine. Are they coming now?" he inquired in a resonant voice devoid of judgment.

She nodded and he turned back to his cauldrons. "I'll clean up and be right there," he replied dutifully.

Marian reached for him as she passed by, but dropped her hand before her fingers contacted his shoulder. She felt tired and defeated, and didn't want to entertain company while things between them were still strained, and so she hesitated for a moment on the threshold and said softly, "I am sorry. About earlier. I don't want to manipulate you. We'll get married when you think it's safe. I don't-"

Molly's voice suddenly soared from the living room and cut her off. "Marian? Where are you?" she called.

Marian visibly wilted, and the rest of her apology died in her throat. She shrugged helplessly before answering in false gaiety, "I'll be right there, Molly. Get comfortable!"

But before she left the room, she noted that Severus no longer regarded her with eyes that were cold and studiously devoid of expression. Now they emitted a warmth that she could almost feel, a look of understanding that held her captive there for a few moments, before she averted her gaze and tore herself away from him.

When she entered the living room, Molly was examining the unfinished mosaic that still graced the coffee table. She and Severus occasionally enjoyed adding a few tiles to it when they lounged around with their coffee. Arthur stood in front of the hearth and self-consciously attempted to brush the soot from his robes. Marian really did need to find the spell the Malfoys used to keep the fireplace clean. She could develop it on her own in time, but it would be much easier if she just had Severus ask them.

"Where's the sick man? He's not in bed, is he?" Arthur asked, and he looked around him curiously, appearing completely at ease in his new surroundings.

"He's not," broke in Severus' calm, gently ironic voice.

"Severus!" exclaimed Arthur in delight. He walked towards the taller man and clasped his lean arm fervently. Marian couldn't help but notice the difference between them. As much as she loved Arthur, who had very pleasing features by all accounts, she saw that his shock of thinning red hair and his slight paunch stood out in garish contrast to the sharp, clean angles of her pale spy.

She had gotten better at reading Severus, and saw a powerful emotion flash over his face before he controlled his features. It had been a combination of surprise, pleasure, and gratification. Marian knew that he had not expected anyone to miss him. Arthur looked him up and down and was saying something like, "Really, it's remarkable! You're doing so well. You look almost like you did when we saw you last," but Marian was distracted by a short streak of tomato that whizzed past her and wrapped around Severus' waist. Molly hugged him ferociously, his ribs in a vice grip. Before he willed it away, a shadow of pain marked his features. Marian saw and the admonishment, "Be careful with him!" erupted from her mouth before she could consider the consequences.

She looked up to meet three bemused smiles. Marian flushed. Severus teased, "You're not always 'careful with me'," in a tone in which a hint of innuendo might have been present.

"Do I ever hurt you?" she asked in consternation. In her concern for him, she forgot for the moment that they were not alone.

He laughed quietly and answered, "Of course not, Marian. Don't be ridiculous."

But now the fear had rooted in her mind, and she stepped closer to the wizard and placed a gentle, detaining hand on his sleeve. "Do you promise to let me know if I ever do?" she pursued earnestly.

He rolled his eyes indulgently and muttered fondly, "Of course. But you won't, so don't let the thought trouble you….We are neglecting our guests, my dear."

She turned back towards Molly and Arthur, who were smiling identical Cheshire Cat grins. Arthur couldn't keep his thoughts to himself, and exclaimed delightedly, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. The fearless, icy Severus Snape—in love at last!"

Marian glanced shyly up at him for his reaction, but he said nothing to deny the words, although his cheeks looked slightly more flushed. "I think it's wonderful. You two deserve to be happy, and it's been a long time coming….Oh my goodness, is that what I think it is?" Molly suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of Marian's engagement ring for the first time.

Marian proudly held out her hand for them to admire the gem, and felt Severus splay his warm hand out on her back. His supportive gesture made her inexplicably happy, and she twined her other arm about his waist in response, because she suddenly wanted to be much closer to him.

"We're so sorry to drop in on you unannounced, but we have all been dying to find out how you survived your…injury. And then when we heard about the fire, we were terribly worried about you both….I couldn't get you to come to the Floo, and then I wasn't able to contact Tonks….But Severus, all in all, you look remarkably well for a man that has been through all the things we heard that you suffered. Do you have a moment to sit down and talk about it, or is it still too painful?" Molly asked straightforwardly.

Severus glanced at Marian, as if asking her what version of the tale the Weasleys should receive. She gave a subtle shrug in response, and left it up to him. "I do not mind talking about it," he answered smoothly after a beat.

All at once, Marian remembered that she was supposed to play hostess. She hadn't had visitors in so long that she had forgotten her manners completely. "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable, and I'll get you something to drink," she said, earning a small smirk from Severus.

After she took their orders (she would have to remember to buy some tea, if she was going to have visitors from the motherland. Severus didn't count. He had never cared one way or the other about the drink.), she sped to the kitchen, unwilling to miss a moment of the story. She still didn't know what version he planned to tell. She came back quickly, levitating a tray and two bowls ahead of her to the coffee table. She had brought wine, and also a small sampling of snacks, some cookies, crackers and cheese, and a bowl of the chips that Arthur loved so much.

Molly and Arthur had taken up residence on the couch, and Severus currently sat stiffly in one of the recliners. She reluctantly moved to take the other chair, which was all the way across the room from him, when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that his seat had begun to expand. He had not paused in his story, but had magically extended his chair in order to accommodate her. Warmed by the gesture, she slipped in beside him. At some point, their hands joined of their own accord, but neither one acknowledged it.

Marian was surprised that Severus was recounting the true story. Apparently, he valued the Weasleys more highly than he had pretended, deciding that it wouldn't be right to let their friends believe the nonsense in the papers about his kidnapping by Death Eaters. When he finally finished, Arthur whistled softly and eyed Marian with a newfound respect. "Don't let her go, Severus. She is one of a kind," he said, still marveling over the lengths she had gone to save the man before him.

"I know. And I don't intend to," he answered softly, but fiercely.

A brief pause followed his declaration, and Marian's heart beat so loudly that she was sure the others could hear it, but they made no sign. Arthur shifted forward and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "So, Severus, do you have any idea who might have burned Spinner's End?" he asked, and Marian could tell that he actually wanted to know. A keen desire for justice burned in those eyes, ringed with blond lashes and gentle smile lines.

Not glancing at Marian, Severus said grimly, "I have an idea….Tell me, have either of you seen Sirius Black lately?"

"Sirius!" Marian blurted in surprise. She had never considered him a suspect. In fact, and she wasn't proud of it, he had hardly been on her mind at all the past few days. After the Christening's disastrous end, Marian had forgotten all about him, and now she was swamped with guilt, and tasted sour bile on her tongue. She had known how Sirius felt about her and that the news of Severus' survival would wreck all his hopes, and yet she hadn't given him a second thought.

She wanted to act to make things better, but helplessly reflected that in this particular situation, there might be nothing for her to do. Perhaps she wasn't really to blame. Perhaps she should continue to let things lie...But she wondered why that resolution didn't make her guilt any easier to bear.

Molly and Arthur didn't seem surprised by Severus' words. They shared a glance and Arthur replied slowly, "Yes, I've seen him. And he's a total wreck. I don't know if he burned your home, but I feel that he…could have…in the state he's been in."

"We haven't been able to get him to snap out of it," Molly picked up where he left off, "He is driving Tonks and Remus crazy with his wildly unpredictable behavior. He's been riding that motorcycle of his all over the place, making it fly…drinking. You really should talk to him, my dear."

Marian opened her mouth to respond, but Severus jealously covered her blue jean-clad knee with his hand, veins standing out prominently, and said flatly, "Absolutely not. She is not going anywhere near him."

She whipped her head towards him and mutinous words rose to her lips, but then she suddenly remembered herself and kept quiet. She and Severus could argue later when they were alone. The others felt the sudden awkwardness and Arthur ventured to ask, "So what do you plan to do now, Severus? I know that Minerva wants you back at Hogwarts something fierce. She has said publicly that you're welcome to teach any subject you want, and that she would appoint you deputy-headmaster besides."

Severus scoffed, "I'll never go back—especially if I'm to be demoted."

"Er, did you want to return as headmaster then?" Arthur asked, in what he intended to be a delicate manner, but which revealed how shocking he knew the public would find the thought of Severus' reascension to the post he had held with such infamy.

"Not for anything in the world," Severus replied tersely, leaning his head slightly against the cushioned lining of the chair. It was the only sign of weakness he would permit himself.

"Well, if you don't intend to return to teaching, the Ministry is awfully anxious to secure your services. You would be a welcome addition to any department—even the Department of Mysteries, I've been given to understand," Arthur confided, as though his words conveyed a great honor.

"I'll never do government work," Severus said decisively. His tone was neutral but his lip curled into a sneer for a fraction of a second. The others didn't catch it. Marian did. She knew and shared his loathing for regulation and control. Even though Kingsley was Minister, and they knew him to be a good man, both felt that the Ministry had far too much power. It had been used to their detriment only months before. The schools were just about the only thing not run by the Ministry, although Fudge and Umbridge had tried their damnededness to acquire Hogwarts. But the Ministry ran the only wizarding hospital in Britain, regulated transportation and nearly everything else, from games and sports to magical creatures.

The Ministry of Magic had long endeavored to gobble up all the wizards with brilliant talent and place them in positions where they strangled in red tape, slowly losing their individuality and withering away as a small part of a collective entity. If any non-government worker developed a new invention that wasn't deemed frivolous, the Ministry had the ability to withhold the patent indefinitely, starving the inventor and turning the creation over to its own researchers in the Department of Mysteries. Severus knew these things even better than Marian. No one is a bigger fan of the laissez-faire system than the independent thinker that has once been stifled under a restrictive regime. Severus had endured Dumbledore, Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic. He had escaped the first two, and would not fall prey to the third again.

"No offense," he added after a beat, "I know that you do wonderful work for your department, but I don't think that I would be happy in the Ministry—too little freedom and too much contact with others. I think that I would fare better as a consultant."

Severus cut his eyes at Marian after these words and saw her looking at him in pleased surprise. They had not talked about what he might do once he fully recovered. She appreciated his current freedom to work on whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She had hoped that he would choose to keep it, but wasn't sure. He had been a part of an institution for so long that he might miss working in that sort of environment. Apparently, this was far from the case.

"Then I wonder how you'll feel about that 'war hero' Christmas party the Ministry has planned," Arthur remarked with a tinge of amusement. He had a pretty good idea how Severus would feel about it, having attended more than a few Order parties with him.

For clarification, Marian asked, "But we've received no invitation. I thought that the party was to be on the anniversary of the final battle."

Arthur crossed his hands behind his head, and Marian noticed that he wore a flashy gold watch on his left wrist—probably a gift from the twins. His back popped audibly and then he sat back up and took a sip of wine, eyelids drooping slightly. Finally, he answered drily, "Well, this was a rather last-minute decision. Kingsley feels that the Ministry can't wait until May—although that party is in the works as well. They need good press now, and so they've decided to invite all of the Order of Merlin recipients and members of the Order of the Phoenix—besides the celebrities of the wizarding world-and the press, of course….There will be feasting, and dancing, and you and Harry will be the men of the hour. Incidentally, you might want to drop Kingsley a line saying that you survived the fire. The Daily Prophet is having a field day with him over it, saying that you beat impossible odds only to be murdered by some rogue Death Eater, because he didn't do a good enough job of cleaning up the streets when he was elected….But what do you say, Severus? Will you attend?"

Severus had not been able to hide his look of dismay. He hated events of this kind and had come to enjoy the shadows. He had no desire to be bathed in a spotlight and cornered by reporters asking invasive questions. Arthur grinned at him in commiseration, and they both knew that he wasn't any happier about the party than he was, but as a Ministry official, he would be unable to wriggle out of attending.

A diabolical look came into Severus' eye and he replied slowly, in his clear, melodious voice, "I regret that I will be unable to attend….You see, I'll be on my honeymoon."

Marian started violently, and almost fell from the chair. He shot his arm out and wrapped it about her waist, sliding her towards him. Arthur chuckled at her antics, and Molly bit back a laugh and asked, "Come as a surprise to you, my dear?"

Marian didn't look at them. She only had eyes for Severus—and they were narrowed. "A bit," she muttered, and then added more graciously, "We had not set a definite date."

"I thought our wedding was to take place over Thanksgiving," he commented in a careless tone, all the while studiously engaged in placing his goblet in the exact center of his coaster.

But there was nothing careless about the fiery, penetrating glance he shot her from under his slender brows. "Of course," she replied in a strangled voice, wondering what he was playing at. Not even an hour ago, they had discussed that they would wait until evidence was produced to incriminate someone in the Spinner's End fire.

Marian rose awkwardly on the pretext of refilling her drink and reached for Severus' glass, but he stopped her with a delicate touch. His wineglass was still partially full. She reclaimed her hand as though it had been scalded, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that her actions spoke for her, because she felt rendered mute in the presence of company, since there was so much she needed to say to him in private.

She was surprised when Molly stated playfully, "I'm going to accompany her. We'll leave you two alone. Arthur—no explosions."

He waggled his eyebrows and his wife sniffed in pretended displeasure. Marian entered the kitchen and placed her elbows on the cool stone counter, propping her feverish cheeks with the palms of her hands. Molly entered behind her and gently closed the door, effectively separating them from the men softly conversing in the next room. "So," she said gloatingly, after a pause, "It looks like you got your mansion after all."

Marian slowly lowered her hands and grinned tiredly. "I did indeed," she confirmed, and forgot her frustration with Severus in her remembered delight that he was hers.

"I suppose I don't have to ask whether you're happy with him. You seem like you're bathed in light these days. And that love bite on your neck is a bit of a giveaway," Molly added cheekily.

Marian self-consciously reached up to conceal her throat, and Molly laughed good-naturedly. "I was only kidding about the love-bite, but you've just proven my point rather eloquently, I think," she declared.

"Molly, that's not funny," Marian reproved, attempting to look stern, but unable to repress a snicker.

"I told you that he would be passionate. You girls didn't believe me at the time, but I could tell," she said knowingly.

"Oh, I believed you alright," Marian acknowledged ironically, finally dropping her fingers.

The mood had lightened considerably since they had retired to the kitchen. Marian had decided that she would find out what Severus was thinking later, but since he had just announced that they would be married over Thanksgiving, she would operate as though that was the official plan. "Severus had wanted us to wait to get married until we found out who burned Spinner's End, but apparently he's changed his mind….So I think we'll have the magical ceremony the morning we go to stay with my brother—that's next Wednesday. We're going to have a brief ceremony at the American Ministry first, and then we'll have a Muggle one on Saturday. Your family is invited to both, of course. We haven't really planned anything, so it will be just the ceremonies," she confided.

"That's wonderful, Marian!" Molly exclaimed, but then a crease appeared in her brow and she asked, "But how will we get to the United States? Portkey?"

Marian snorted with laughter. "Do you not know where you are now?"

Molly tilted her head in curiosity and her friend burst out, "You're standing in America this very minute. We have an international Floo connection in our fireplace. You just came through it. It might be easier if you used it on Wednesday, and then we could all go to the Ministry together from here."

Refilling her wine glass from the half-empty bottle on the counter, Molly tipped her head and commented playfully, "So, did the Ministry set that connection up for you, Marian?"

The younger witch snorted with laughter and retorted, "What do you think?"

Suddenly sobering, Molly walked slowly around the peninsula and gazed at her friend in compassion. "You know that I didn't think he would be good for you. I thought that if he came out of this war, he would be too jaded, too bitter, too damaged to make a good husband for you. But I think I might have been wrong. He's in love with you—hopelessly in love with you—that much is obvious. And even though his sufferings have increased exponentially since the last time I saw him, he seems almost a different man. It's shocking how much more life is in him now. His eyes aren't empty anymore…at least, when he looks at you. I think his love will prove worth having," she finished quietly.

Marian slightly bowed her head in assent and felt a tendril of hair strike her cheek. She remembered what had caused her hair to become so loose and blushed suddenly. Molly discarded her serious manner almost as soon as she donned it, and in her customary bustling way proclaimed, "But that boy is too thin! You need to fatten him up, Marian. He's far too frail-looking."

Marian knew exactly what her friend meant, but was surprised that she saw it. His thick robes concealed the tough, slender form that still showed signs of malnourishment, but since he always kept himself well-covered it was difficult to make that assessment. His skin bore a noticeable pallor, but he had always been pale and few would take note of the slight change. But Molly's maternal gaze saw that Severus Snape was a curious mixture of delicacy and strength, and Marian appreciated that she cared enough to see the truth about him. People had always taken Severus for granted, content to placidly look on while he worked himself to death to protect their interests. Marian wanted to guard him from those sorts of people now.

Molly interrupted her thoughts by asking, "Is he taking any nutritional potion?"

When she shook her head, the Weasley matriarch tsked and said fretfully, "He could brew it for himself in no time. You really must ask him to do it, Marian. I used to have to give it to Bill. He was always getting caught up in some project and forgetting to eat. It's really wonderful stuff….I forget what it's called, but Severus will know. He certainly brewed it often enough for the Infirmary at Hogwarts….But I guess we'd better be going. I didn't want to derail your entire evening. I just wanted to see for myself that you were both safe and well….Harry told me that Severus was alright, but I couldn't quite believe it after what I had read in the papers about his horrible ordeal. I knew that if it was true that it would kill you."

"You're right about that," Marian responded and exhaled shakily. As she walked around the counter with the wine bottle in her hand, her haunted look returned for a moment. She had to remind herself that Severus was safe, that he was in the next room.

Both men stopped speaking and looked up when the women reentered the den. Marian held up the wine and courteously offered them refills. Severus took her up on it, but Arthur declined, having caught his wife's eye and realized that she was ready to go. After so many years of marriage, the two had gotten to be quite in sync. As their guests prepared to step into the fireplace, Marian called, "I'll let you know a time for Wednesday as soon as I find out. We'll try to make it during Arthur's lunch break-"

Molly said gaily, "Don't worry about that, my dear. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

The moment they vanished into the fireplace in a flurry of silvery powder, Marian approached the coffee table and began collecting the food that had been balanced there, inches away from the small bowls filled with mosaic tiles. Severus was standing behind her, but she ignored him for a few moments, before deciding that she was acting ridiculous. She was slightly angry, and she wasn't entirely sure why, but it had been painful to receive so many surprises in front of their guests. She hadn't expected him to act unilaterally when it came to something that concerned them both so closely.

Straightening up, she asked in a quiet, neutral tone, "Would you like something to eat for supper?"

His expression showed that he knew this was the last thing on her mind, and his lips quirked ever so slightly in the corners, which made his mouth appear even more tempting to her, even as it took on a faint edge of mockery. "No," he answered simply, and reached out to take the cutting board and Arthur's glass from her hands, while she bent again to collect the bowls.

When they reached the kitchen and placed the items down, she wiped her hands on her jeans and prepared to confront him. She couldn't stay angry with him for long, especially for being secretive. The man had been a spy, after all. And every time she looked at him, she felt the same sensation she had felt as a child on Christmas morning—that same joy, and anticipation and excitement—along with the lure of the mysterious and the unknown.

"When did you change your mind? I thought that earlier we had agreed to wait," Marian said at last, as though the words had been drawn out of her against her will.

"We agreed to wait until we found new evidence about the fire," he amended, watching her closely. He saw that in spite of her blasé manner that she was hurt, and the knowledge stung him.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yes, but we haven't! Unless Arthur said something I missed," she retorted flippantly.

"No. Not him-Molly. And we don't have new evidence yet, but we will after you visit Black," he said, nearly grinding his teeth as he spat out the name.

Marian said quietly, "I don't think he did it, Severus. It's not like him."

It was the wrong thing to say. "Of course not, because attempted murder is so out-of-character for him," he sneered sarcastically.

It took a visible effort, but he swallowed down his bitterness and added, in a conciliatory, calmer tone, "I just want you to ask him—that's all. Ask him and dare him to deny it. If he truly loves you, as he claims, he will never lie to your face. But I suspect that his cowardice will overcome his finer impulses. In spite of his denial, watch his face carefully—you will learn the truth. And if you return to me unconvinced of his guilt, then I will say nothing more about it. But I think that you will see it reflected in his eyes."

"Severus, do you have any idea how twisted this is? The arson could have been committed by any one of a thousand people. I know that you hate him, but look at the position you're putting me in. If I confirm that Sirius 'looks guilty', then I condemn my friend—the man you hate—but I get to be married to you. If I say that he 'looks innocent', then our marriage will be postponed indefinitely. Do you see that you have sort of stacked the deck here, love?" she asked, in tones just a hair too passionate to be truly ironic.

The former spy said nothing for a moment, and when he did speak, it was in a tone so solemn and childlike that it was almost a whisper, "You would be right, except for one thing: the whole enterprise depends on your character. You are too honorable not to seek out the truth and do right by us both. Your sense of justice demands it."

"You have quite the exaggerated opinion of me," she bit out savagely, turning from him.

"No, I don't," he replied in that same low voice, which sounded naïve and adult at the same time.

"But anyway," she continued, beginning to pace in agitation, "I thought you said earlier that I wasn't to seek out Sirius."

"No, but I knew from the moment Molly suggested it that nothing I could say would keep you from going to him," he retorted, and this time she heard a note of angry helplessness in his cultured voice.

"You're wrong," she said, dropping her tone to match his, "You could have forbidden it. I would have complied."

"I know better. You need this," he answered logically, but couldn't quite prevent himself from adding the barb, "You feel a responsibility for him…an obligation to go and apologize for my survival."

"Severus! That's an awful thing to say!" she snapped.

"If my choice of words was harsh, the meaning of them was, nonetheless, accurate," the spy snarked.

"That's not true at all! I just want to tell him that I'm sorry for keeping the truth from him after he poured his heart out to me. I want to say that I didn't mean to hurt him," she said, closing her lids and feeling the balls of her eyes throb in rhythmic pulses. She felt very, very tired.

"He understands perfectly why you couldn't tell him, and nothing you can say will ease that sort of hurt. It will only renew his hope. Your presence will only indicate to him that you care for him. He will want to push you to find out how much," Severus told her, and then added dismissively, "I realize that these words are futile. I knew that no argument would prevent you from checking in on him, and if you feel that you ought to go, then I have no right to forbid you. But I feel no remorse about benefitting from your meeting with him—as he certainly plans to do.

"Ask him, Marian. I know men. Trotter did not burn my house, hoping to all hell that I was inside it. A different kind of man did this—a passionate man from a family whose members have always considered themselves above the law, who have killed their enemies without compunction for generations."

"I will ask, and I'll do it tomorrow," she snapped, before she gentled her tone and added, "We are invited to my brother's on Wednesday. Thanksgiving is Thursday. I thought that we might have our ceremony at the Ministry on Wednesday before we go to Texas, and that we could get married in a Muggle chapel on Friday or Saturday before everyone goes home. Is that acceptable to you, or would you like to change anything?"

He shook his head and murmured something about going back to the lab. She let him go, understanding on some level that it was how he worked out his frustration. Even though she pitied him, she still took a slightly vindictive pleasure in the thought that he was as desperate to consummate their relationship as she was. She didn't know whether they ought to sleep in the same bed tonight, but it seemed almost futile to separate, since the longer they stayed away from each other, the more forcefully they sprang back together. Sighing, she realized that she might have to take Dreamless Sleep again. She didn't like dosing herself with potions or drugs, but occasionally found them quite handy—especially when so expertly brewed.

Marian spent the rest of the evening researching honeymoon cottages in the South Seas and calling her relatives. She also Floo-called Tonks, who confirmed Molly's story about Sirius' breakdown, but she didn't seem to make a connection between his behavior and the fire. She was still chasing down the Trotter lead, which had gotten her nowhere, although she had found out that he frequented the prostitutes of Knockturn Alley. But Tonks had been crestfallen when she reported that she didn't have any evidence of him visiting them while on duty. The pink-haired Auror expressed delight that the wedding was back on and promised to attend, but no matter how many times Marian told her otherwise, Tonks was convinced that her advice was responsible for Severus' change of heart. "He wants it, Marian. I told you that he wouldn't be able to hold out," she had said triumphantly. Her friend knew that Tonks seriously underestimated Severus Snape, but finally gave up trying to convince her. Members of the Black family were notoriously stubborn.

That night, Marian didn't take Dreamless Sleep after all. She returned to her room to shower only to find Severus sitting on the bed drying his hair. Even though he had enjoying seeing the Weasleys again, he had grown unaccustomed to socializing, and the effort had worn him out-especially factoring in a full day's work spent over hot cauldrons. He had lit a fire to keep out the evening chill, and after Marian showered, she returned to her office to fetch her laptop. They spent the next hour propped up in bed looking at pictures on her computer of bungalows on black sand beaches. She slowly stroked his hair in a content, unhurried way as he viewed the photos she had marked. They talked softly for a while in tones suffused with joy, as they anticipated the approaching fulfillment of their desires. And that night, with her face pillowed against his warm chest, Marian knew that perfect bliss meant drifting off to sleep in his arms.