Chapter 22

Severus’ chin was resting on top of Sarah’s head as they lay together like spoons, drowsing. There was no doubt they had both just experienced spectacular orgasms, but he had to admit he wasn’t expecting their first “proper” coupling to be quite so animalistic and ferocious in nature. The ritual had required her to be passive, but this time she was anything but, devouring him as easily as a common tart and begging for him to take her on all fours. Minx, he thought, squeezing her tighter.

“Has your eyesight returned?” he muttered lazily. He felt her shake with a giggle.

“Just about.” She laced her fingers into his and sighed happily.

“Good. I think I can just about form coherent sentences myself.” His baritone, although usually sexy, now had a post-coital huskiness to it, which brought to Sarah’s mind the thought of a purring blank panther beside her. She could listen to him all day.

They’d just started to doze again when a scratching noise began to emanate from the window.

“What on earth’s that?” asked Sarah, lifting her head off the pillow.

“Owl,” Severus grunted, reluctantly removing his entwined limbs from hers and wrapping the satin sheet around his waist as he swung his legs off the bed. He stalked to the window and opened it. A small grey owl with orange eyes bobbed its head up and down, as if trying to see who else was in the room. Severus tried to take the little parcel attached to the owl’s leg, but it kept shifting position, hooting disdainfully. Severus understood.

“Sarah, the owl is for you.”

“For me?” she asked with complete surprise. She picked up the first garment she found on the floor, which happened to be Severus’ white shirt, and threw it on, doing up just a few buttons before making her way over to the window. Severus looked at her curiously. It was strange to see a woman wearing his clothes, although “wearing” was a loose term as it positively swamped her and the sleeves were far too long.

“What does it want?” she asked, peeking at it curiously.

“It appears to have some mail for you, according to that parcel strapped to its leg.”

The little owl hooted as if in agreement, sticking its leg out. Sarah peered forwards and read the address scrawled on the front:

Sarah Shaw

Spinner’s End

She fumbled with the tie, finally removing the package. Turning it over, she saw it had a wax seal on it.

“Ollivander’s seal,” Severus noted aloud.

The owl hooted impatiently for some kind of reward. Severus scowled at it. “Your master has had quite enough galleons out of me for one day, thank you,” he snapped. The owl glared right back at Severus with its flaming eyes and made a little hissing sound before taking off.

She sat on the bed and opened the package, removing the brown parcel paper. Inside, there was a piece of parchment, and a tub of something called “Wheelan’s Wand Wipes.” She began to read:

Miss Shaw,

M. Ollivander

Sarah looked up at Severus after she had finished reading. He’d now settled back into bed, the satin sheet draped over him opulently. She passed him the parchment so he could read for himself.

“Just as I said,” Severus muttered after scanning it.

Sarah looked at him nervously. “He makes it sound like it could be dangerous.”

He shook his head. “I doubt very much the wand will be in any way dangerous. Ollivander is being over-cautious. He takes his reputation very seriously, and he probably feels a little jaded that his knowledge about wands is no longer all-encompassing. He’s also managed to cover his behind in a legal sense too, because if your wand stopped working, he’d be able to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“It was nice of him to send the letter and the wipes though,” she acquiesced, placing them on her dresser.

He should have given you a year’s worth, the amount of galleons I gave him earlier, Snape thought with a snort.

Sarah gave a little stretch and a yawn.

“Keeping you up, am I?” he murmured silkily.

She turned around and smiled. “Well, it’s just that someone has completely tired me out between a wonderful day in the wizarding world and a wonderful time between the sheets.”

“How unfortunate,” he drawled. “Looks like you need to go back to bed.” He patted the space beside him with an amused smirk. Grinning, Sarah scrambled onto the bed, still wearing his shirt, and tumbled into his warm embrace.