Twelve

http://media.photobucket.com/image/playwitch%20severus%20snape/barbarella_1970/Exotik/HP/Marquise-SnapePortrait.jpg

---

Steel

"I've laced up both my boots

So try and twist the knife

I am steel

I don't feel

Anything at all"

'Steel', Charlotte Martin

The swoosh of the Floo roused Severus from his trance-like state; he'd lost track of how long he'd stared at the wooden grain of his coffee table.

Emerald flames erupted in the fireplace. Out of the corner of his vision, Contessa stepped from the hearth into his living room.

He was going to have to remedy that with immediate effect.

She stood silhouetted against the flames, still wearing the clothes she'd worn for dinner in the Great Hall. Severus had watched her cosseted up with Aurora Sinistra, animated in discussion throughout the entire evening meal. The rest of the teaching staff were sombre after Severus announced the appointment of the Carrows as heads of discipline, but Contessa seemed oblivious to the scene unfolding around her.

Severus had observed all this through his peripheral vision. He had not made eye contact with her, nor did he have any intention of doing so now.

The Potions Assistant remained standing by the fire, her eyes boring into the side of his head. Contessa's gaze left a burning sensation on the back of Severus's ear.

He was not going to look at her.

Severus picked up the book he had thrown to the floor half an hour previously and leafed through the pages, until he found his place. He settled back on the sofa and rested the book against his crossed legs, trying to read.

His attempt was as futile as it had been thirty minutes ago, but he didn't care. It was all he could do to avoid looking up at the woman standing in his quarters.

Agonising seconds passed, stretching to infinity. Severus seemed unable to swallow; his mouth and throat had dried to sand.

Then with a rustle of robes, Contessa crossed the room. Her boots thudded softly against the scarlet and gold rug. She sat down on the opposite sofa, perched on the edge of her seat.

Severus made no attempt to move, staring at the same paragraph he must have read ten times over. As he waited, tension built with bubbling nausea in his chest. He knew Contessa wouldn't be dissuaded so easily. She would see through his repressive façade, and he deeply regretted granting her such access.

It would not happen again.

He wanted her to leave now. Take the hint and go. But he knew she wouldn't. She would persistently search for his truth, digging and prying for an answer. Looking for one more fragment of his soul.

Part of him still wanted her to see him, to find him, to know him.

But he had to put a stop to it. Once and for all.

Severus's heart beat faster as the divergences tussled, trying to find a winner. Contessa's voice caught him off-guard.

"Severus." Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

No, he told himself. Don't let her in again; it's too dangerous.

His tongue pressed against the back of his gritted teeth, and he snapped his book shut. The closure of the binding made a satisfying thump and caused Contessa to flinch. Severus's lungs swelled with authority, and his bones turned to steel.

"Contessa," he said curtly.

Severus enclosed himself behind heavy armour, and somewhere deep inside his core his fear gave a crooked smile. He found the confidence to raise his head and look her in the face. His eyes, calculating, narrowed to slits, and his nostrils prickled with alertness. He wanted to be able to savour her panic. It was only fair for her to feel as vulnerable as he.

And with a hot pulse of attestation, Severus found a glimmer of what he sought – Contessa's eyes were wide, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. He watched her mouth opening, and his eyes traced the bottom teeth of her trembling jaw line... Her lips invited him in, mesmerising him, offering him another chance...

No. Absolutely not.

She didn't want him.

And he would be damned if he was going to allow himself to need her. He had to get her out of the room as quickly as possible.

She watched him for a long moment, taking in his demeanour, changing her countenance into something more accepting of him. The alteration yanked a chord within him, as if a string had been plucked deep in his guts. But where there had once been hope and yearning now lay hostility and suspicion.

"No supper tonight?" she asked, clicking her fingers experimentally to summon his house-elf.

Severus maintained his hard composure, staring straight into the blue wells of her eyes. "I've instructed Binky to cancel all further suppers."

He felt a burning ache of satisfaction as Contessa's gaze dropped to the floor. Severus awaited the outcome of his provocation with bated breath and almost gleeful, child-like anticipation.

He was, however, disappointed.

"Something's changed between us, hasn't it?" she asked.

He fought to keep his mask of steel in place.

Where was her obstinate refusal to accept his authority? Where was her anger over his decision to make the announcement to Hogwarts on Valentine's weekend? Why was she not reprimanding him, criticizing him, telling him he was wrong? Why would she not react? Why wasn't she making it easy for him to walk away?

Severus gave a minimal reply to the question she posed.

"It has."

But he knew that wouldn't be enough. He was certain she'd press for more.

"What's changed?" Contessa asked.

Severus's heart felt like a cold stone in his chest, knocking against his ribs, threatening to shatter bones.

"Everything," he forced out.

He watched her expression: stunned, uncertain and then slightly exasperated.

Good. He could work with that.

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

"No?" he replied callously.

Contessa gaped, holding on to the edge of her composure. "I want to understand. Tell me what's happened."

Severus rose to his feet, redressing the power balance, trying to find a way to get her out of the room, out of his life, out of his heart.

He would force her to leave if he had to.

He paced around the back of the sofa, but Contessa remained seated, unprovoked.

"You say you want to understand, but I don't believe it," Severus said, his fingers clawing the back of the sofa. "It's all a lie."

Genuine confusion crossed Contessa's face; she was lost for words. Severus pressed on, feeling more certain of his theory than ever before.

"You and Dumbledore, you came up with this ploy. Merlin knows what either of you were trying to accomplish, but I see through the illusion. I know it's not real."

"Severus," Contessa managed, shaking her head, flummoxed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" he asked coldly. "Really? No idea at all? Well, let me enlighten you. I'm talking about your vow."

"My vow?" she said, unnerved.

"That's right," he replied, hoping he wouldn't have to fill in the gaps.

Contessa stared at him with a blank expression. Severus flexed the muscles in his hands in annoyance. She wasn't going to give anything away. He turned his back on her.

"Unconditional acceptance," he said sarcastically. "I mean, really, what does that mean?"

He turned to see a tide of perplexity and disbelief spread across Contessa's features. Severus realised he was going to have to spell it out for her.

"How can you truly accept me for all that I am? It's pretence, a fabrication. If you had to take a vow in order to be able to accept me, then your acceptance isn't real, is it? You've deceived and coerced me into thinking something is authentic when it is quite the opposite."

"Severus, no..."

"No, I can see it plainly now. You can't pull the wool over my eyes any longer."

"I haven't..."

"There isn't anything you can say to me which I won't view with suspicion, because it's all based on fallacy."

Contessa opened her mouth to speak then closed it again.

After a moment's pause, she said calmly, "I can't be forced to feel something, but I know what I do feel is real."

"Whatever it is, it's something I don't want. I don't want your pity, and I certainly don't need your dutiful devotion. I don't need anything at all."

Severus thought he could see tears glistening in Contessa's eyes. She didn't seem to have an answer to that. He crossed his arms and waited, reviewing his standpoint in his mind.

Her promise of unconditional acceptance meant nothing to him if she didn't return his feelings. She wasn't in love with him. He didn't want unrequited feelings in his life again.

Better, then, to nip them in the bud this time. He would control and shut them away behind the safety of his armour.

"What do you want, Severus?" Her voice was equanimous.

He paused, his eyes raking over her body, taking in her open posture and calm demeanour.

Severus reminded himself that it wasn't genuine. It was all because of her Unbreakable Vow.

"I want you to leave."

---

Out in the Cold

Contessa rose to her feet unsteadily, Severus's request for her to leave still ringing in her ears. Queasiness wrapped around her abdomen, compressing her until she felt dizzy with vertigo. The worries and fears she'd carried around all day long were bursting out, growing dozens of heads, and each one bayed for her blood.

Dread clawed at her chest as she looked at Severus. He stood before her with crossed arms and unblinking eyes, as cold, guarded and untouchable as the Potions master she had known as a seventeen-year-old girl.

His rejection of her burned like a bullwhip stinging into her skin. His posture indicated contempt, clearly expecting she would obey his order to leave.

But Contessa was ground to the spot, partly paralysed, and partly unwilling to accept the loss and walk away. Her eyes beseeched him, only to be met by a snarling face as he extracted his wand. She heard the clunk of the latch and the creak of hinges as the front door to his quarters opened at his behest.

His expression inscrutable, Severus pocketed his wand. When Contessa didn't make for the exit he turned his back on her, striding towards his bedchamber. The door banged in its frame as he closed it behind him.

Dismay descended her body in a bilious trickle. She stood statue-like, hoping he would return to the room, wanting him to be ready to meet her, to open up to her, to trust her.

As the seconds slipped away it became apparent that Severus's door was not going to open, and he would not reappear.

Reluctantly she walked away, leaving the door open behind her as she descended the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

Tears began to roll in earnest down her cheeks, and she gripped the banister rail at the bottom of the stairs to steady herself.

For a long minute she looked up at Severus's open door, hoping he might still come back.

Her heart thumped like a bass drum when she heard his footsteps and saw the cuff of his sleeve as he grasped the door handle, only to watch the door being pushed closed. The bookshelves rolled back into place concealing the portal to the Headmaster's chambers.

Her final ray of hope flickered out. Contessa's heart sank so low she thought it might expel itself entirely.

She didn't understand Severus's behaviour – what had motivated him to cast her out into the cold, or what had made him doubt her sincerity. Contessa could speculate and theorise, but ultimately she knew he was a complicated man and her assumptions were mere postulation.

As she rubbed her forehead with frustration and dried the tears from her cheeks, her body felt as though she had been flung from a high-speed train. She looked around the room to find her bearings.

Every single portrait in the Headmaster's office was either staring at her or in the hasty process of looking away. A flush of embarrassment burned her cheeks; she had forgotten she was on show.

Hurriedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, cleared her throat and walked across the office towards the fireplace, hopeful for a quick escape.

"Tess?"

Dumbledore's voice drifted gently toward her, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to face him, feeling an ache of uncertainty and shame. She knew she had failed.

"Tess, what happened?"

"He..." Her voice croaked in her throat, and she cleared it again. "He sent me away, told me to leave."

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted high above his half-moon spectacles. "Why?" he asked.

Contessa paused as she considered how to answer the question. She settled on the truth. "I don't honestly know. He was ranting about my vow, saying I wasn't genuine, implying I'd deceived him."

She saw Dumbledore's lips purse as he absorbed the situation.

Magda McDougall broke the silence. "Ungrateful dunderhead," she muttered from the other side of the office.

Phineas Nigellus Black tutted disdainfully.

Dumbledore waved his hand to quieten the crowd. "What exactly did Severus say?"

"He said my unconditional acceptance was fabrication. He implied I wouldn't willingly accept him. I was only doing it because I had to, because of my vow."

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes bulged slightly, and he swallowed, clearly perturbed by what had transpired.

Tess walked over to stand directly in front of his portrait. "Albus, what should I do?"

"Do nothing," he answered calmly. "He'll come around."

"I'm really not sure..."

"Leave it for now, Tess. Give him some time."

Contessa frowned.

"It's for the best," the portrait said benignly.

"OK," she acceded.

Hesitantly, she returned forlorn to the Floo.

---

Hogwarts soon became a changed place under the Carrows' regime. The Death Eaters quickly sank their claws into the ringleaders of Dumbledore's Army, and Contessa had seen Neville Longbottom sporting a black eye the last time she had passed him in the corridor. All kinds of horror stories had reached her ears, and some of them chilled her to the bone.

Not that any of that news had found its way to the Headmaster, or at least not via his only spy in the castle.

For two weeks Contessa had arrived at the Headmaster's office by Floo (having found the connection to Severus's quarters terminated), and for two weeks he had not replied to her knocking on his door. When she tried the handle, she found it locked.

After periods of intense vacillation, Contessa had on each occasion left her Potions requisition on the Headmaster's desk.

The following morning she would find the signed parchment had been shoved silently underneath the door to her quarters. Once or twice she ran her fingers across the small, spidery 'Severus Snape' as if it might somehow reconnect them.

But no such connection seemed possible. Whenever she saw him in the Great Hall at mealtimes, or passed him fleetingly in the corridor, he treated her with cold indifference.

And so Contessa had spoken to Dumbledore's portrait again after her sixth attempt at meeting with Severus on their allocated evenings.

Dumbledore conceded that Severus was not 'coming around' as he'd hoped, and he would have to intervene. Now was not the time for the Headmaster to be cut off from the developments in the school; he had a mole whom he was refusing to utilise and this oversight might ultimately place everyone in jeopardy.

A note stuffed under Contessa's door the next morning, written in Severus's hand, requested her attendance in the Headmaster's office at nine o'clock that evening.

When she stepped out of the fireplace into the circular office and dusted off her formal robes, she caught a glimpse of Severus seated behind his desk, his quill scratching fervently at the parchment beneath.

He didn't look up, but said flatly, "Dumbledore requested a meeting with both of us." He rose to his feet and turned his back on her to face the portrait.

Dumbledore smiled at Contessa in greeting, and she shuffled across the office to stand next to Severus.

"Good evening, Albus," she said placidly. She turned briefly. "Severus."

He glared, then stepped in front of her before walking past and standing behind her, out of her range of vision. She bristled but held her composure. Even after three weeks she didn't have an explanation for his behaviour.

"Thank you both for attending," Dumbledore said cordially, apparently unaware of the tension in the room. It reminded Contessa of the many times he'd intervened during quarrels at Squirrel's Leap, and she was sad to notice how far her relationship with Severus had receded.

"Tess, it appears that the vow you made at my request now only serves to hinder you in your mission," Dumbledore began.

Behind her back, Severus scoffed.

"Therefore," Dumbledore continued, undaunted, "I have come to a decision."

Contessa could feel her ears pricking and her nerves standing on end with the realisation that something significant was about to happen.

"With immediate effect, I am releasing you from your vow," Dumbledore said magnanimously.

Contessa's breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat. She was aware of stony silence from the man standing at her back.

"Albus, I..." she protested.

"It's for the best," Dumbledore interrupted. "You should return to your quarters now. Severus and I have something to discuss."

Contessa turned to see Severus unfolding his arms in disbelief, his mouth agape. He met her eyes for a fraction of a second before glowering once again at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

Sensing it was time to make a swift retreat, Contessa advanced without delay to the fireplace and stepped headlong into the Floo.

---

Trick of the Light

Severus seethed disbelievingly as the fizzing crackle of the Floo transported Contessa out of his office. He took several steps towards Dumbledore's portrait.

"How can you lie to her, after all she's done for you?" he snarled at the old man.

"Severus, I've no idea what you're talking about."

Severus kicked the leg of his desk with his booted foot, but the pain in his toes didn't drown out the pounding in his head.

"You're perfectly well aware, Dumbledore. You can't release someone from an Unbreakable Vow! You must know this!"

"Indeed I do."

"Then how can you make her believe it's possible? You're putting her life in danger."

"Tess's life is not at risk."

"How can you..."

"I would never ask anyone to make an Unbreakable Vow, Severus. It goes against all my sensibilities."

"What? But..." Gradually, comprehension dawned like the sun breaking on the eastern horizon, causing Severus's brow to crease. He appraised Dumbledore sceptically. "You told me she'd taken an Unbreakable Vow," he said slowly.

Dumbledore smiled patiently. "No, Severus, I don't believe I ever told you that... However, you might have interpreted my meaning in a way I did not intend."

Severus fought past his building rage, trying to remember Dumbledore's exact words during that first night at Squirrel's Leap. However, before he could retrieve the memory, a new understanding emerged.

"You deliberately misled me," he accused Dumbledore.

Dumbledore cocked his head contemplatively. "No. Not misled. Merely neglected to clarify, as I recall."

Enraged by Dumbledore's repeated manipulation, Severus felt a ferocious surge of adrenaline threatening to overwhelm him. But he was also alert to the way this changed everything. Him. Contessa. The Vow.

As the cloud of mirage swept away, revealed now as a trick of the light, Severus was dazed by the complexity and enormity of its repercussions.

It simply couldn't be true.

"No," he growled. "I don't believe you."

Severus turned his back on Dumbledore's portrait and strode across the office to the fireplace. He took a handful of Floo Powder and flung it into the fire. Without a backward glance he marched into the green flames.

In an almost continuous movement, he stepped out of the Floo and onto the hearth rug of Contessa's dungeon quarters.

She was seated facing the fire, astounded by the arrival of the man who had been avoiding her for weeks.

She stood up nervously, but Severus didn't give her the opportunity to speak.

"Tell me it's not true," he demanded.

Contessa's mouth fell open, and her eyebrows pinched together. "What isn't true?"

"The vow you took," he said urgently. "Tell me..." He halted, cut short by a bout of nerves stealing the breath from his lungs.

"Tell you what, Severus?" she asked, baffled by his lack of eloquence.

When he failed to answer, Contessa continued, "It doesn't matter now, anyway. I've been released from my obligation."

"No! It does matter. You can't be released from an Unbreakable Vow – that kind of Dark Magic cannot be rescinded!"

"Severus, what are you on about? I never took an Unbreakable Vow! How did you come to think that?"

He shook his head, confounded. "I..."

"You thought I was bound by magic?" Contessa interrupted. She dropped to the sofa, looking away in bewilderment. "How could...?" she began, but her question was superseded by an incredulous sounding, "What?"

Severus huffed, shamefaced. "Dumbledore prevaricated. I thought he'd said... He led me to believe your vow was unbreakable; that you had no choice about..."

"Severus, why on Earth would I agree to make an Unbreakable Vow? Especially when I didn't know to whom I would be beholden? It's not the sort of considered decision a Ravenclaw, such as myself, would make!"

The exasperation in her voice stopped Severus in his tracks. Why hadn't he realised that? Contessa wasn't a Gryffindor; she wouldn't expose herself to unnecessary risk-taking. How could he have been such a fool?

"I..." He faltered, his world tilting on its axis. The sideways motion left him nauseous. "So," he stammered, "your vow was non-magical."

"Yes. Well, more akin to a promise or undertaking. I mean, providing you with shelter was easy enough, but the unconditional element – that's much more difficult to provide. It's a way of being, rather than a choice or decision. It can't be given unwillingly."

Severus's puzzlement gained in intensity. "You're saying you didn't have to accept me completely?"

"No," Contessa replied. "But I was encouraged to."

Severus found himself groping for the armchair next to the fire. He sat down, stunned by the revelation.

Each and every one of those moments when Contessa had been there for him, with her kind and steady understanding, her openness and her empathy; all had been authentic. She hadn't deceived him. She'd given him a gift more valuable than anything he could've hoped for, or even dreamed possible. She'd accepted him genuinely with every fault, idiosyncrasy and foible, for all his darkness and each tiny glimmer of light.

Severus suddenly understood the worth of the gift bestowed upon him, tangible like a crystal ball in his hands but also finite and fragile: a present which would be easy to break unintentionally.

He'd given that gift away the moment he'd asked her to leave, and now Dumbledore had released her from her obligation, he stood to lose it once more.

Asking her to give that gift again was fraught with peril. He didn't know if she'd give it willingly, and if she did, when she might take it away again. Crippled with doubt and self-reproach, Severus wrung his hands together. He couldn't bear to lose her a second time.

"Severus, I'm sorry." Contessa's words broke through Severus's forethought.

He looked at her concerned face; sadness echoed through her blue-grey eyes and sympathy furrowed her brow. His heart ached, bruised by shattered illusions, desperate to save itself from further harm.

"I had no idea you were labouring under a false impression," she said softly. "If I'd known..."

"No, Contessa. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I doubted you. I didn't realise the value of what I had, and now that it's gone..."

"It's not gone, Severus."

"Yes, it is. Dumbledore released you; you're free from your burden..."

"It was never a burden."

"No. You don't understand. I'm cutting you loose. I don't expect you to do anything more for me. You're free."

And with that he rose to his feet, wrapped his cloak securely around himself, and bade her goodnight.

He forced to numbness the knot that was tightening in his stomach as emerald flames carried him back to his office. Severus ascended the stairs to the minstrel's gallery without looking at Dumbledore's portrait and slid the brown leather spine of Knitting with Kneazle-fur from the bookshelf outside his door.

Within moments he was closeted within the low illumination of his quarters, safe inside the gloom, comforted by its dark edges.

Sheltered and secluded, Severus locked himself away in his illusionary dungeon of reassuring familiarity.

He was better off this way.

No one could find him.

No one could hurt him.

---

Sound of Silence

"Sometimes I think,

I think I understand

The fear in the boy

The fire in the man

Sometimes I watch

The wonder in your eyes

That, and you leaving

I have memorised"

'Roosterspur Bridge', Tori Amos

The new-found freedom bestowed upon Contessa dragged like an albatross around her neck. A hollow, aching pit in her stomach became a constant companion, and without detentions to supervise and evenings with Severus, she attempted to fill the void with other pursuits.

But even after copious amounts of reading, hours of potion-making, and evenings atop the Astronomy Tower with Aurora Sinistra, nothing seemed to diminish the yawning chasm of loss.

One week after she'd been released her from her vow, she found herself standing in the empty Headmaster's office, staring into the piercing blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore's portrait.

The old wizard smiled benevolently.

"Where is Severus?" asked Contessa.

"In his quarters, as he is every evening."

"How has he been?"

"Hard to say," Dumbledore replied evasively.

"Albus..." Contessa faltered as a prickling sensation of barbed wire tightened around her ribcage. She knew what it meant. "I miss him."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose fractionally, but he smiled understandingly. "I don't know what more we can do, Tess."

Contessa wasn't so easily discouraged. "There must be some way for me to reach him."

"I'm all ears," Dumbledore said kindly, his hands opened outwards, welcoming.

"He told me he was cutting me loose, severing the obligation," she began, "but he never actually said he didn't wish to see me again."

The flicker of hope stirring in her abdomen was almost extinguished by the former Headmaster's pitying gaze.

"I'm sorry, Tess, I think he's deliberately cut himself off. I can't imagine him letting you in again."

"How can you know that?"

"Years of observation."

Contessa's head dropped, but the warmth in her chest refused to be dispelled. Her instinct told her Dumbledore was wrong. Perhaps, if she treaded softly, Severus might open up to her again. It had to be worth a try.

As she lifted her head, her intuition roared in approval. "I'm going up there," she said firmly.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "He won't let you in."

"I have to try, Albus."

The portrait shrugged its shoulders then gestured to the staircase. "Be my guest."

As she climbed the stairs to Severus's quarters, her stomach rippled with trepidation. Over the last month the gnawing loss of their friendship had never left her, and she was beginning to realise how much Severus meant to her. It seemed some feelings had never truly faded. They had lain hidden behind other concerns, dormant, but not completely diminished.

Contessa could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she slid the copy of Knitting with Kneazle-fur from the bookshelf and watched the casings separate, revealing the solid-oak door to Severus's personal chambers.

Contessa brushed the joints of her fingers against the raised grain of wood, hesitating. She remembered the hollow black wells of Severus's eyes and her sense of his anguish when he'd spoken of losing her. It had been the strongest indicator yet that his feelings had transformed beyond mere friendship. This might be her last chance.

Biting down on the wave of apprehension threatening to engulf her, Contessa took a deep breath and knocked twice on the door.

The sound of silence stretched out as her heart beat out the seconds: ten, fifteen, twenty. When nothing happened, she quelled her disquiet and grasped the cold door handle.

She pushed gently down, and for the first time in weeks, the iron latch yielded to her touch.

The door creaked open.

Steeling herself, Contessa's breath caught in the back of her throat as she crossed the threshold.

Across the room, sitting on an antique sofa in the middle of the flickering gloom, was Severus.

Dressed head-to-toe in black, a leather-bound book resting in his lap, he looked at her wide-eyed across the divide. He didn't turn to look away, nor did he arise to greet her. He was like a charmed snake, hypnotised by a seductive flute, caught between the urge to strike or slither away.

Contessa wondered if stepping further into the room would break the enchantment and cause him to recoil or attack. She wanted to remain forever locked in the eerie serenity of his gaze.

Severus seemed caught somewhere between joy and terror as Contessa reached out to close the door behind her. When she turned to face him once more, the memory might as well have been an illusion; he was supremely focused on the book in his lap, appearing calm, except for whitened knuckles gripping the binding.

Contessa moved quietly to sit down on the opposite sofa, ignoring the pulse throbbing in her throat and the deafening tick-tock of silent seconds drumming in her ears.

Time stretched out before her, threatening to sap her resolve. But she didn't waver. Deciding that honesty and genuineness were the order of the hour, she leaned forward and clasped her hands lightly on her lap. She knew her time would be limited should Severus choose to expel her from his quarters.

"I've missed you, Severus."

He twitched involuntarily, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

"If you tell me to leave, I shall go," Contessa said softly.

She waited for a response. Nothing came.

"I want to update you on the Carrows," she began.

Severus's head tilted slightly.

Contessa pressed on, encouraged. "Today they instructed students to practise the Cruciatus Curse on those who've earned detention."

With one jerking movement, Severus made shocked eye contact. His expression soon turned to one of remorse.

"I know there is little you can do, but I thought you would want to know," said Contessa.

He nodded once, pensive, then resumed reading his book. Contessa sensed their moment of contact break.

Not wishing to overstay her welcome, she bade him goodnight and departed.

---

Twice a week, Contessa visited Severus in his quarters and updated him on the goings-on in the castle, each time staying a little longer.

She didn't ask him any direct questions, or indeed expect any kind of response, and as time passed by the tension seemed to ease, despite the lingering silence.

Aurora Sinistra seemed to have taken it upon herself to be responsible for Contessa's welfare, and one week before the school term ended, Contessa found herself cajoled into setting up her telescope on a crystal-clear evening.

Despite Contessa's protestations of a prior commitment, Aurora had eventually persuaded her to meet on the Astronomy Tower, under the proviso that Contessa could break for half an hour at eight o'clock.

The velvety blackness of the moonless sky and Aurora's continuous commentary on the moons of Jupiter absorbed Contessa, and she lost track of the hour.

She was in the process of realigning her telescope, mapping Jupiter's progress across the night sky and observing the planet's moons strung around its equator like a bejewelled necklace, when the door to the tower flung open.

The two witches almost toppled over with fright as the Headmaster charged through the doorway and strode across to the ramparts. Severus's arms were crossed against his chest, and his cloak flapped in the breeze as he stood before Contessa. His black hair was teased away from his face, and his hooked nose bore down on her with abundant condescension. But in his eyes she saw measures of fear and uncertainty.

She knew, instantaneously, the reason for his appearance at the top of Hogwarts' highest tower. She was late. Severus had come to find her.

Aurora stepped forward. "Headmaster, if this is about the fifth-year's Astronomy OWLs..."

"No, Aurora, it is not," Severus said. His voice purred with silken disdain, each word enunciated to inflect superiority.

Contessa shuddered despite herself. She had missed the sound of his voice, and her aural experience caused a choke to descend her windpipe, leaving warm fluidity in its wake.

Severus turned to face the Astronomy professor. "Kindly leave me alone with our Potions Assistant."

Aurora cast Contessa a significant look, probably concerned to leave her alone with the man who threw Dumbledore from the top of the same tower the previous summer.

Contessa nodded, encouraging Aurora to depart, and she watched her retreat and close the door behind her.

Severus's posture didn't alter. He was taut, his expression belligerent. But Contessa knew something else was going on behind his mask. Severus was there because she hadn't attended his quarters on time. This must mean that he wanted her there. This must mean he still cared.

His stern, imposing countenance seemed to demand an apology, but Contessa had nothing to say sorry for. She knew that his mask concealed a child-like, vulnerable person, reaching out for contact. Reaching out for her.

Nevertheless, for all intents-and-purposes, the Headmaster towered imposingly before her, and Contessa fought back the urge to apologise. She would not collude.

Instead, she said, "Severus, I'm glad you're here. It's a beautiful night." She turned to face the sky.

His brow furrowed, but his arms relaxed, coming to rest at his sides. Then he too looked towards the heavens.

Contessa ushered him towards her telescope. "Take a look," she offered gently.

One eyebrow rose on Severus's pale forehead as he crouched down towards the eyepiece. His fingers caressed the circumference of the lens as he cocked his head to one side, facing her.

His expression was characteristically inscrutable; however, his emotions were evident in his voice.

"I want you to remain at Hogwarts for Easter."

He looked into the eyepiece and adjusted the focus, playing down the magnitude of his statement.

A smile, unseen by Severus, crept across Contessa's face.

"OK," she replied quietly.

Contessa stared towards the distant planet twinkling brightly on the western horizon, and a balloon in her heart swelled with warm, tender air.

---

Magical Creatures

Severus stood by the main door of the Entrance Hall, watching the remainder of the students filing out of the castle.

The Hogwarts Express was due to depart in half an hour, and the entire teaching staff were on duty, escorting the bustling throng through the courtyard to the Thestral-drawn carriages.

Amycus and Alecto Carrow were in charge of the operation at Hogsmeade railway station, and Dementors circled the route overhead.

Security was tight following the events of the previous evening – Hagrid had narrowly escaped arrest after holding a 'Support Potter' party in the gamekeeper's cottage.

Severus knew that several of the party's attendees had not sufficiently covered their tracks and had been chained up by the Carrows. The mutineers spent a sleepless night in the dungeon, and in an attempt to keep trouble on the train to a minimum, they were sent home via Portkey at dawn.

However, it could have been worse – if Severus hadn't been able to forewarn Contessa, she would never have reached Hagrid in time, and the oaf would've been locked up in Azkaban without a trial. Severus was glad that his renewed partnership with Contessa was again benefiting the Order of the Phoenix.

Across the hall, Severus caught a glimpse of Contessa standing with Minerva McGonagall, watching a group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs shuffling their way through the antechamber. The head-count completed, the witches walked past Severus and stepped out to see the students safely away.

He watched the back of Contessa's head, his eyes tracing the ornament which held her hair loosely at the nape of her neck. The crescent-moon shaped hairpin glittered in the morning sunshine as she chatted to the Transfiguration professor.

Severus felt his Tiger's Eye ring tingling on his chest, and he smiled to himself.

The prospect of having Contessa back in his life awakened his lungs like a walk in the fresh sea breeze, and the cobwebs of the past few weeks were gradually being blown away.

He had feared approaching her and asking her to stay, nigh on hoping for forgiveness for his recent behaviour. He felt he'd taken an enormous risk in admitting he needed her; Merlin knew, it had been hard enough to admit it to himself.

But, that night on the Astronomy Tower, he had overcome his lifetime's habit of keeping people at a distance. Contessa had welcomed him with grace, and ever since his doubts had begun to trickle away. Her acceptance of him helped him break free from his self-imposed prison, to claim a prize he'd never deemed himself worthy of winning.

Watching her now, from the elevation of the steps to the courtyard, he knew they would be spending the next three weeks alone with no interruptions. It was like a gift from the gods.

The tingling of the ring became more persistent, and Contessa looked at him furtively over her shoulder. Her bluish-grey eyes propelled Severus forwards, and he descended the steps, listening-in on the witches' conversation.

Minerva was saying, "A few of us are going for lunch in Hogsmeade before we Disapparate home. Will you be joining us?"

"I, err..." Contessa glanced away guiltily, and Severus knew immediately that she was struggling to provide Minerva with a convincing enough story.

"What is it, Tess?" Minerva asked.

"I'm not going home for school holidays this time."

"Why ever not, dear? Surely you don't want to be alone in a castle full of Death Eaters?"

"I..."

"Good morning, Minerva," Severus said briskly, smirking as he made the witches jump. They both turned to face him. "Tess," he said, inclining his head in her direction.

A flicker of shock crossed Contessa's face at the renewed use of her shortened name. Severus noticed her eyes widen at the public display, but he decided that, as he was Headmaster, he was at liberty to call her whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased. And it pleased him to call her Tess.

His eyes met Minerva's, who nodded curtly, and then Severus raised one supercilious eyebrow at Contessa. She was still stumbling on the verge of speech, with Minerva scrutinising her for her whereabouts over the holiday. Severus cleared his throat, securing the professor's attention.

"Tess will be spending Easter at Hogwarts, upon my request," Severus supplied.

It was fortunate that Minerva was looking at Severus, because Contessa's mouth gaped inelegantly.

"Why?" Minerva asked him sharply.

"It seems," Severus began, dripping words patronizingly from his tongue, "that our Potions Assistant wishes a promotion." He sneered at Contessa and enjoyed watching her horrified expression, before turning once again to Minerva. "This morning, she tendered her application for the Care of Magical Creatures professorship."

Severus caught Contessa's reaction through his peripheral vision, and had to clench his jaw to prevent laughter escaping.

Minerva's eyes were wide as saucers. Luckily, Contessa had recovered herself by the time Minerva turned her razor-sharp gaze in her direction.

"Is this true?" Minerva asked.

Contessa pressed her lips together and nodded.

The corners of Severus's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile.

"I'm giving her three weeks to prove herself worthy of the post. Consider it an extended job interview."

Contessa's forehead crinkled, and Minerva was momentarily speechless.

"In that case, Tess," she said, pulling herself together, "best of luck. If successful, you can prevent another Death Eater from teaching at Hogwarts."

And with that, the Transfiguration professor turned on her heel and descended the remaining steps. Minerva crossed the courtyard and met Septima Vector and Aurora Sinistra in the shade of the cloisters.

Severus faced Contessa and held out his arm, gesturing for her to turn and follow him back up the steps to the Entrance Hall. His arm lingered near the small of her back until they reached the main door.

"What did you say that for?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He looked towards her as he climbed the last step. "You needed my help, did you not?"

"Yes," Contessa replied, maddened, "but now I'll have to become a professor..."

The sound of Severus's laughter caused her to back-pedal instantly.

His voice was full of mirth when he spoke. "You can't seriously think I'm going to appoint you as Care of Magical Creatures Professor? With your demonstrable dearth of knowledge of phoenixes, for instance..."

"You..." Contessa's face screwed into a grimace.

"I sent an owl to Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank this morning, advising her of her reappointment as Hogwarts Professor. I'm sure the Ministry of Magic will persuade her, should she decline."

He opened the door for Contessa and waited as she disappeared inside.

"Besides," Severus said to her back, "I want you all to myself this Easter, not mucking-out Hippogriffs and catching Plimpies."

Contessa's quizzical face brightened considerably. "Thank God," she said, relieved. "I'm hopeless with magical creatures."

"I know," Severus said dryly.

He turned to close the door behind them and caught Minerva McGonagall watching intently from across the courtyard.

He returned Minerva's gaze with a dark stare, and his stomach crunched sickeningly as he wondered how much altered body language the Transfiguration professor had witnessed. Aurora Sinistra cast him a sidelong glance, ushering the suspicious witch through the cloisters.

Severus took his time to watch the professors leave and then closed the door on the outside world.

He shut his eyes and breathed in the quiet tranquillity of the empty school.

With only the Carrows and a handful of students remaining, Severus and Contessa were all but alone in the castle.

---

The Great Lake

"Severus?" Contessa called, after she'd let herself into the Headmaster's quarters.

Morning sunshine streamed through the stained glass windows, lighting up the grandiose, high-ceilinged room.

Severus's living space looked completely different in the daylight. Tapestries adorning the walls shimmered and sparkled, and the blue-green dragonflies surrounding the ornate mirror on the mantelpiece glistened, appearing to dance around the frame.

Contessa placed her satchel and broomstick on the coffee table and wandered over to a window seat, peaking through the leaded glass at the stunning scenery outside.

Within moments, Severus stepped through the bedroom door, dabbing his freshly-shaven face with a towel. He was fully dressed and wearing a dark shirt, which seemed an almost black shade of blue. He rubbed the towel through his hair, which was wet and clinging to his head in ribboned strips of ebony.

Contessa experienced a thrill arch through her abdomen as old feelings re-ignited, to the extent that she actually blushed.

He flung the towel over the back of the sofa and ran his fingers through his newly-washed hair, assessing her inquisitively.

Contessa moved back to the middle of the room, feeling awkward. "It's a beautiful day outside," she stuttered.

Severus eyed the broomstick on the table and raised his eyebrows.

"I thought... I wondered if... you'd like to go flying today?" Contessa asked, unexpectedly shy.

He stared at the satchel for a long moment, a smirk curling his lips.

"I packed a picnic," she explained. "Or, rather, Binky did."

Contessa could've sworn she heard Severus hold back a snort.

He strode to the window and knelt on the cushioned seat to look outside.

"It's a gorgeous spring day." Contessa heard her voice as if from afar.

"So you've said," Severus replied sardonically.

Contessa flushed a deeper shade of red. She shook herself to regain her composure.

Severus turned away and went back into his bedroom, emerging a minute later wearing a waistcoat which accentuated his narrow frame. He had obviously dried his hair with the assistance of magic, and it still appeared unkempt, albeit clean. He flicked his wand, and his boots laced themselves.

Impulsively Contessa looked down at her own attire – a high polo-necked jumper and a pair of faded jeans. She sighed. At least her pullover was cashmere.

Severus folded a cloak over his arm and beckoned to the doorway.

"After you," he said. His voice was like silk sliding over stone.

Contessa shivered as she walked through the door.

"Don't you need your broomstick?" she asked belatedly, when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Severus appeared briefly stumped. "I'll instruct Binky to meet me at the edge of the Great Lake with a school broom."

They left the Headmaster's office and made their way out of the castle, into the bright sunlight of the clear spring day.

"You don't fly very often, then?" Contessa asked conversationally as they walked towards the lake.

The expanse of water rippled in the gentle breeze, sparkling like millions of diamonds under the azure sky. Birds sang in the trees, strident and joyous in the fresh, chilly air.

Contessa shrugged her cloak more securely around her shoulders.

"No, not often," Severus replied with a glimmer of amusement.

Contessa assessed him shrewdly. "When was the last time you left the castle?"

Severus pondered his answer. "Is there a need to leave the castle?"

Contessa chuckled. She knew he was happiest when he was closeted up in the dungeon, erudite with Dark Arts and Potions.

They reached the pebbled shore of the Great Lake, where Binky was awaiting their arrival with a Nimbus 2000 for his master.

The house-elf presented Severus with the broomstick and promptly vanished.

Severus mounted the broom and rose a metre into the air, pausing as he looked down at Contessa.

She quickly realised she was gawking at him. Contessa swallowed a lump in her throat and tore her eyes away, resolving to concentrate on her own flight and not let the magnificent sight of the Headmaster distract her.

Nevertheless, palpitations strummed in her chest as feelings hidden below the surface revealed themselves with greater intensity.

With her satchel fixed firmly on her shoulder, and her cloak wrapped tightly, Contessa kicked off the ground and glided into the air.

"The Dementors know to leave us alone," Severus said when she reached his side. He glanced around the landscape. "Where do you want to go?"

"Follow me," she instructed, sweeping away into the blue, on a circular tour of the lake.

Severus kept pace beside her, the wind whipping his hair into his face and Contessa's own becoming a tangled mess.

After three quarters of an hour's flight, steering clear of passing ducks and geese, and drifting over the sapphire waters beneath, they identified a secluded landing spot, unreachable by foot, on the shore of the lake, directly opposite Hogsmeade.

Contessa's ears burned with the cold. As they hopped off their brooms, she laughed at the sight of their windswept hair.

With a quick charm, Contessa reversed the bird's nest on her head. She eyed Severus's tousled black hair and giggled.

"Remember when it was fashionable to have messed-up hair – so you looked like you'd just stepped off a broom?" she said nostalgically.

"Yes," Severus said darkly. "All too well." He ran his fingers roughly through the mop on his head and winced, hair-sore.

"Allow me," Contessa offered.

To her complete surprise, Severus allowed her intervention, and his hair returned to its former state – scruffy, but clean. It didn't look that much different to normal, now that Contessa thought about it, and she wilfully resisted the urge to run her fingers through...

"You brought food?" Severus asked.

She jumped. "I did."

"Good. I didn't eat breakfast."

Contessa lifted the satchel and opened the clasp, revealing its cavernous interior. With a non-verbal spell, a picnic blanket flew out and unrolled on the pebbly shore, soon followed by a veritable feast of cheese, wine, bread and fruit.

"Bloody hell, Tess. Who's going to eat all that?" Severus asked.

"We are, apparently," she replied, casting a Cushioning Charm on the blanket. "We might be here until midnight, however," she said with a grin.

Severus sat down and opened a bottle of wine. They had chosen a sheltered spot, and the sun beat down on them, warming their faces.

They ate brunch in silence and watched a pair of golden eagles soaring high above the lake. Every so often, an enormous tentacle of the Giant Squid poked through the water's surface.

The peace and quiet felt relaxing after the tumultuous final weeks of school term. With the stunning scenery of the Highlands surrounding them, the problems at Hogwarts seemed a lifetime ago.

"Wilhelmina accepted the Care of Magical Creatures position this morning," Severus said as he watched a flock of geese landing in the water with a dignified splash.

"Oh, I'm glad," Contessa said.

"There was never any doubt. The Dark Lord's people would've pressurised or Imperio'd her if she'd refused."

"I'm just pleased we won't have another Death Eater to contend with." Contessa turned to Severus and flashed him a smile. "I'm also glad I don't need to take a crash course in Magical Creatures over Easter."

"No chance of that," Severus said. His eyes glittered in the sunlight. "I've been considering our attempts to create an Imperius Curse-breaker, though."

Contessa watched him take off his cloak and fold it into a pillow. Severus unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat and leaned back on his elbows. The sight was very distracting.

Not seeming to expect a reply, Severus continued, "I'd like to try a combination of Truth Potion with Glumbumble treacle."

Contessa shifted a little and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. Her head rested on the apex, and she watched a strand of Severus's dark mane tickling his forehead in the breeze. Spellbound, she suddenly realised the earnestness of his words. It was the last thing she'd expected to hear.

"I thought, after all that happened, you'd given up on finding a potion to repel the Imperius Curse," she said.

Severus shrugged. "I still enjoy the mental challenge."

"But what about the testing?"

"We'll just have to resolve to use the antidotes properly this time."

Contessa bit her lip. Severus's eyes traced the path of her teeth, his obsidian orbs transfixed by her mouth. She thought, for one insane moment, that he was going to reach out and...

"That is, if you're still up to the challenge?" Severus's voice was slightly husky.

"Of course I am," Contessa replied shakily.

The clamorous cries of geese taking off from the water's surface caused them both to look away. The birds ascended to the sky in a perfect V-formation.

"I've always wanted to fly," Contessa said wistfully. "You know, unaided, like a bird. No broomstick to cling precariously to. Just me and the wind."

Severus remained silent as the flock of geese flew into the blue beyond. Contessa stared out at the lake as long minutes yawned by.

Then, with a crunch of pebble and shale underfoot, Severus was standing before her, offering out his hand.

Contessa cast him a puzzled look, but he continued to gesture for her to place her hand in his. She grasped his proffered hand warily and pulled herself up, searching his pale features for his intentions, his expression unreadable.

Severus nodded towards his feet. "Stand on my boots, one foot on each," he commanded.

He held out both arms, inviting her into his embrace. Contessa felt a wave of giddiness take over, and butterflies clambered up her throat as she stepped carefully onto his feet. Severus guided her arms upward until her hands rested against the back of his neck.

Contessa couldn't look up, knowing his nose and his mouth were so close to her own. Severus's warm breath caressed her scalp.

"Hold tight and close your eyes," Severus said quietly.

Now Contessa did look up, perplexed, and two opalescent pools of black took her breath away. She barely stopped herself from falling backwards into his arms.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I do," she replied. After a moment's pause she added, "Always."

Severus smiled, satisfied. "Then close your eyes."

Contessa complied. She rested her head against his chest and felt his arms wrapping around her, holding her firmly in place.

His wand pressed into her back, then lightness filled her body and a swoosh of air whipped across her face.

When she opened her eyes again, she and Severus were airborne. The grassy Highlands were dozens of metres below as she hovered with Severus's warm, lean body holding her securely in place.

Gasping, she looked up into his face and saw the same broad smile she'd seen once before in the Great Hall last Christmas.

"Severus, you're amazing," she said, stunned. "You simply have to teach me how to do this!"

His smile faded a little. "The magic is a Dark Art. I'm not sure you'd wish to learn it."

Contessa's brow furrowed. "That doesn't matter."

Severus didn't seem convinced. "It matters to me," he said.

"Why?"

"You might become..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's OK, Severus," she reassured him. "I believe the magic itself isn't dark. Magic simply is. We make it light or dark by our choices and our actions."

One of his long fingers brushed a stray hair from her face, whilst his other hand held her tight in his grasp. He studied her features intently.

"Please teach me," she asked again.

His eyes glinted. "Only if you agree to help me with a curse-breaker."

Contessa laughed. "Of course I will!"

Severus smiled again and pulled her head close against his chest.

For one gleaming, pristine moment, floating in the cool, spring air, Contessa dared to map out her future post-Voldemort. And for the first time in years, that future included hope.

And unconditional love.