Qhari Warmi

A/N:

Besides the usual extraordinary job of Britpicking and betaing, I owe RedSkyAtNight a huge debt of gratitude for all the hashing-out of logistical details in this chapter: the wedding arrangements, train travel to Manchester, Snape's house in Spinner's End. I am not worthy to tie her shoelaces.

I also want to thank Richard Ingram, pastor of Fairfield Moravian Church in Manchester, for generously sending me a number of interior photos of the church so that I could get the details right. He might be appalled if he read the next few chapters (in which, I promise, the threatened "explicit, lewd, or deviant sexual descriptions" are finally going to make an appearance). But then again he might not: I've known a lot of Moravian ministers who were pretty frisky.

For those of you who are concerned about the legal loopholes in this marriage...specifically the lack of a required waiting period...just sit tight. All will be revealed. Snape, after all, is not without resources.

With the exception of Snape's solitary figure, the Hogsmeade platform was deserted when Rawa arrived. He was dressed, as always, in a black frock coat with black waistcoat and trousers, the narrow edge of a high white shirt collar showing beneath his chin. The only concession to the occasion was his freshly washed hair, which was fastened at the nape of his neck into a neat ponytail.

The morning was cold. Rawa hugged her arms to her chest under her red shawl, and was glad of the warmth of the wool against the damp. She was dressed simply and traditionally, in a full white blouse and long black skirt with a split of white underskirt showing down one side. Wrapped several times around her waist were two multicolored layered belts, and on her head a narrow-brimmed black felt fedora.

She was also wearing shoes: black cloth alpargatas tied about the ankles with ribbon. She suspected that in northern England, her clothes, as ordinary as they might have looked in Quito or Cuzco, were already enough to turn more than a few heads. Besides, she was not even sure she would be allowed on the train in bare feet.

Snape nodded briefly at her, and, without speaking, handed her a stiff orange-banded ticket the size and shape of a small playing card. She held it in a gloved hand, her breath frosting in the morning air.

The train arrived, and they boarded, Snape stepping on first and turning to offer her his hand. At this hour the train was not crowded, and they took seats at the end of a nearly-empty carriage. She was astonished at how clean it was, and said as much.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I would not have considered this particularly clean," he said, looking around at the bits of litter and abandoned newspapers.

"Only because you have never ridden the bus from Quito to Otavalo," she said, and tried to picture him jostling for elbow room on one of the grimy Co-op buses that was usually filled to about twice capacity, and sharing space with beggars, food vendors, and small livestock.

The train lurched out of the station, and they sat in awkward silence as the rails clacked rhythmically by. She felt completely unable to make polite chatter, mostly because her mind was racing with the questions she was desperate, but did not dare, to ask. Finally, just outside Glasgow, she said haltingly, "Severus . . . you know you don't have to do this."

He looked at her, his expression guarded. "Nor do you," he said. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No, no," she said hastily. "It's just . . . I don't want you to feel you have to sacrifice yourself."

"Sacrifice myself?" he said dryly. "Are you planning to devour me like a spider once the marriage is con- . . . is . . . final?"

Consummated. That's what he started to say. She blushed furiously and looked down at her feet. "Do not laugh at me, please."

He reached over and touched her shoulder. "Sorry," he said, pressing his lips together into a tight line. "This is unfamiliar territory to me. I've never married before."

"I don't know what to expect," she said apprehensively. "I don't know what you expect."

"Very little, I assure you," he said, the dry edge back in his voice. "It has proven, in my life, to be the policy that leads to the least disappointment."

Just then the train arrived with a screech of brakes at Glasgow Central Station, and from that moment on they were not alone again. Snape led her by the hand at a run through the great glass-roofed concourse, weaving in and out amongst the crowds with the sure-footedness of one who had made this same journey many times before.

The train to Manchester was crowded, and they sat side by side without speaking, Snape's countenance as usual revealing nothing. As the hours crept by, Rawa grew more and more apprehensive and miserable. At one point a tear slid down her cheek, and he turned to her and silently brushed it away with his thumb.

Finally they arrived, stepping off the bus into the gentle afternoon sunlight of early spring. Snape seemed more than ever engrossed in his own thoughts, and she followed him mutely for several minutes along quiet tree-shaded pavements, stopping at the entrance to a two-storey brick building unadorned except for a white-lettered black iron plaque identifying it as a Moravian church.

To Rawa, accustomed to a more ornate tradition, it hardly looked like a church at all. The glass of the windows, although figured into a graceful leaded wreath pattern, was not stained, and the entrance hall into which they stepped was a plain room of oak paneling and white plaster. There was a row of coat hooks on which she hung the red shawl, a bulletin board with notices pinned to it, and a simple vase of freshly cut flowers on a low table by the door.

They sat in two straight-backed chairs and waited in silence. Presently a tall black man with close-cropped gray hair emerged from an interior door, breaking into a radiant smile upon seeing Snape.

"Severus!" he said warmly. "What a wonderful surprise it was to hear from you!" He turned to Rawa. "And this must be your young lady." His eyes sparkled with genuine delight. "I can't tell you how honored I am to be performing this service for you."

"Thank you, Pastor Higgins," said Snape. "We're very grateful you could do it at such short notice."

Rawa had never seen Snape like this: deferential, almost humble. And the "we" warmed her a little, made it sound as though they were an actual couple. Migajas del banquete, said the voice in her head, a voice that had grown louder and more difficult to ignore as each milepost passed. You are grasping at the tiniest straws to convince yourself that he cares for you and that this will be a real marriage.

The minister withdrew a slim brown volume from his shirt pocket. "I found the service," he said. "I must tell you both, it is the first of its kind I have performed. But not so different from the usual, except that the form and language seem somewhat older."

"Yes," said Snape. "They are. I believe they have changed very little in the last several centuries." He smiled faintly. "Magical society doesn't take to change very well."

Higgins opened the book, pulled out a small slip of paper, and looked at it, frowning slightly. "My dear, will you pronounce your name for me?"

"Tungurawa Akapana."

The minister looked a question at Snape, and scribbled a notation on the scrap of paper. Seeing Snape's look of chagrin, she realized that he must never have heard her full name, must have given Higgins her nickname. She could almost see the minister wondering how well they knew each other, and whether this hasty marriage was taking place because she was with child.

But he kept any such thoughts to himself, saying only, "Well, then. Shall we get started?"

They both nodded, and he turned and laid his hand on Rawa's shoulder. "Severus, will you excuse us?" he said, and led her into the sanctuary, indicating that she should sit in one of the rear pews, and then sliding in next to her. He opened the book at the place held by the little slip of paper, and addressed himself to her with an air of gravity.

"Tungurawa Akapana, dost thou swear before God that thou comest to this marriage of thine own free will, that thou art free of obligation to any other, and that thou art neither pressed nor compelled in any fashion to make this union?"

De perdidos, al río, she thought, and said aloud, "Yes. I do."

"And dost thou further swear, that thou hast cast neither spell, nor charm, nor any other enchantment, to press or compel thy chosen partner in any fashion to make this union?"

"I swear."

"And hast thou, through hex, or curse, or any other enchantment, brought about any influence against any other who might prevent or oppose this union?"

"I have not."

"And, insofar as thy knowledge and thy conscience may attest, art thou this day free of any and all enchantments?"

"I am."

"Then let it be done according to God's will," he said.

Closing the book, he rose and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Wait here. I'll be back presently with your intended."

He was gone for several minutes, and Rawa realized that he must be administering the same questions to Snape. Then the two men came through the door together, and she stood, and the three of them walked down the aisle to the front of the church. The minister knocked on a side door and stepped back to admit two women.

"Severus, you know Rachel and Sarah," he said, and to Rawa, "My daughters. They've agreed to serve as witnesses."

Both women nodded, smiling, and the one named Sarah, who looked to be the older of the two, said, "Well done, Severus. You've better taste than I would have given you credit for." Snape looked at the floor in embarrassment, and her father shot her a mildly reproving look.

They positioned themselves at the front of the sanctuary: the minister with his back directly to the altar, Snape and Rawa facing each other in front of him, and the two sisters behind them, one on each side. The minister lifted Rawa's right hand and placed it in Snape's, then opened the book and read:

"Brethren and sisters, we are gathered here in the presence of God and these witnesses to join this man, Severus, and this woman, Tungurawa, in holy matrimony, which is blessed by God and held in honor among all. Therefore it is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but discreetly, thoughtfully, and with reverence.

"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it."

The language of this statement was perplexing to Rawa, and she understood very little of it, but the meaning was clear: this was her last chance to turn back.

"Severus, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife; wilt thou love her, and honor her, guard her and keep her as it befits a husband should do his wife, and, forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both may live?"

"I will." His voice was low, and she could hear the tension in it.

Higgins turned to Rawa. "Tungurawa, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband; wilt thou love him, and honour him, cherish him and keep him as it befits a wife should do her husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both may live?"

Her heart was pounding furiously and her mouth was dry, and she clutched the gold-and-emerald ring nervously in her left hand. "I will."

She listened with a growing sense of unreality as Snape repeated his vows, and then it was her turn.

"I, Tungurawa, take thee, Severus, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and thereto I plight thee my troth." She had no idea what that last bit meant, but repeated it anyway, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar words.

Snape took a ring from his pocket and reached for her left hand, which was still closed tightly around the Inka's ring. With a smile, Rachel held out her hand and took the gold ring from her, and Snape slid a narrow silver band etched with a worn paisley pattern onto her finger. His eyes fixed intently on hers, he repeated the minister's words:

"With this ring I thee wed, and this gold and silver I thee give, and with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

She felt as though that unwavering gaze could look right into her mind and see there the image that those words had instantly evoked.

Taking the gold ring from Rachel's outstretched hand, she put it on Snape's finger, hoping that he could not feel the trembling of her own hand.

"With this ring I thee wed, and this gold and silver I thee give, and with my . . . " she swallowed, " . . . with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

Then the minister indicated that they should kneel, and he placed his hands on their heads, and said:

"O eternal God, creator and preserver of all mankind, giver of all spiritual grace, the author of everlasting life; send thy blessing upon these thy servants, Severus and Tungurawa, whom we bless in thy name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy law. Amen."

Then they stood again, and he said, "Forasmuch as Severus and Tungurawa have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of rings, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together. Amen."

Qhari warmi, she thought, and tried the phrase out in her mind: man and wife together.

The minister smiled at Snape. "You may kiss your wife, Severus."

Snape looked startled for a moment, then leaned down and gently, hesitatingly, touched his lips to hers. She stood absolutely still, trying to prolong the moment, but Sarah and Rachel burst into wild applause, and he straightened, looking awkward and self-conscious. Rawa took his proffered arm, and they walked down the aisle together, followed by Higgins and his two daughters.

Back in the vestibule they signed the registry, and Higgins congratulated them both, shaking Snape's hand and enveloping Rawa in an embrace. Sarah hugged Snape and then Rawa, and shocked her by whispering into her ear, "You give Severus some beautiful brown babies, hear?"

The old settlement in which the church lay was an island of green and quiet within a larger industrial area that was considerably noisier and grittier, and even though the walk to Snape's house took no more than twenty minutes, the neighborhoods could hardly have presented a greater contrast. The afternoon sun had disappeared behind a low layer of gray clouds, and the temperature had dropped sharply. Snape offered his arm as they left the church, and she took it, even though by raising her arm to reach his, she opened the side of her shawl to the wind.

The house was at the end of a row of nearly identical narrow dwellings, each distinguishable from the others only by the occasional window box or painted door. When they went inside, the house was dark, and she stood still for a moment, glad to be out of the wind, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the unlit room. Beside her, Snape reached for his wand, then checked himself and stepped across to light first the lamp, and then the fire that had been laid ready, she supposed by Morven.

The room that was revealed in the soft lamplight was a small sitting-room, with two chairs by the fire and a little low table. She took off her shoes and set them by the door, and hung the fedora and shawl on a coat rack.

"Are you hungry?" Snape asked. "I find I am famished. I hope Morven has left us an adequate meal, because I believe I could eat one of those chairs."

To her surprise, she found that she, too, was hungry. Neither of them had eaten on the journey, and it was now late afternoon. The tiny kitchen revealed a charmingly laid table with a dinner of cold roast chicken, salad, fruit and cheese, along with a loaf of dark bread, a small tub of butter, and a bottle of white wine.

The kitchen was quite chilly, so they carried the meal into the sitting-room and arranged it on the little table by the fire. The food and wine, and the crackling warmth of the flames, began to relax Rawa and even make her a bit drowsy...but in the pit of her stomach there was still a tiny knot of anxiety that would not be loosed.

Snape rose and collected the dishes and carried them into the kitchen, where he set them into the sink. "I'll do the washing-up in a bit," he said. "Let me show you your room."

The knot in her stomach tightened, and the doubting internal voice...which had been mercifully stilled since the ceremony...returned. No more 'we,' it whispered, as they climbed the stairs. No 'our room.'

To the right of the stairs was a minuscule but newer-looking bathroom, and a tiny bedroom. The bedroom to the left was larger but still quite small, with a ceiling that slanted downward with the roof line on either side. Her carpetbag was there, and her clothes had already been unpacked and hung in the corner wardrobe; there was a single towel folded on the bed. Her heart sank: the room had clearly been prepared for her occupancy alone.

There was a small fireplace, and Snape crossed the room and lit it. "I know it isn't much," he said, "but it's the larger of the two, and we'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow night. I'll stay in the other bedroom across the landing."

She did not know what to say.

She walked across to where he was standing by the fire, reached up, and began simply to unbutton his frock coat. There were twelve buttons in all...three at the top that were always left unbuttoned, and nine down the front of the coat. She knew this already because she had sat across from him during countless meetings, looking at those buttons and imagining what it would be like to undo them one by one.

There was a moment's silence, broken only by the quiet crackling of the fire, as her slim brown fingers unfastened the black cloth buttons. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six . . . and then he was kissing her, his body pressed against hers, one hand on the small of her back and the other cradling the nape of her neck. It was everything the kiss in the church had not been: fierce, and deep, and full of longing.

She could feel him hard against her belly, and she reached down and touched him through the fabric of his trousers. He gave a little groan and kissed her again hungrily.

And then he fell upon her like a starving animal.

Her knees buckled under her, and he picked her up in one swift motion and laid her on the bed. He pushed her skirt up around her waist and tugged her knickers down, and then his hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, touching and grasping and devouring. She clutched at him, the blood rushing in her ears with such intensity she thought she might faint.

He was clumsy in his urgency, fumbling awkwardly with his trousers as he crouched over her. She opened her legs and reached for him and he entered her, bruising the flesh of her neck with his mouth and pushing her hard into the bed. She pulled him into her with her legs, her body rising to meet his, and cried out once as, with a low moan, he spent himself in her.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and they were both, for the most part, still fully dressed. He buried his face in her hair and said, in a muffled voice, "Oh, god, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I didn't mean it to be over so quickly. Did I hurt you?"

Her legs were still around him, holding him inside her. "Oh, no," she whispered. "No."

"Did you . . . " He paused.

"Yes," she said, and then, "I was . . . it was fast for me too."

He rolled off her and sat up, and began taking off his clothes. She unwrapped her skirt and pulled her blouse over her head, flinging both onto a chair, and then made a dive for the covers as the frigid air hit her naked skin. Snape undressed more deliberately, folding each garment and laying it over the footboard of the bed, before sliding under the covers next to her.

He began immediately to caress her, his white hands a stark contrast to her cinnamon-colored skin. She sighed deeply, and turned towards him, lifting her face to be kissed and running her hands over his back. His hand slid down her belly and between her thighs, and she gave a little gasp of pleasure.

"I never knew your whole name was Tungurawa."

"You never asked me."

"What does it mean?"

She grinned up at him. "Throat of fire."

Her last thought, before drifting off to sleep, was that there was still the washing-up to do.