Spinner's End

"You can't be serious. Vol--the Dark L--Voldybutt tried to kill you! As far as he and everyone else knows, you're dead! You're free and you're going right back there?"

He smirked at the fanciful nickname she'd picked for the most feared wizard of their time. It served both to circumvent the taboo and cut out some of the fear she felt for the one it named. No one would dare use it to His face, regardless of how they felt. Death would be assured at that point.

"I could say the same for you, foolish Gryffindor."

"I'm Muggleborn! I have to fight this--and, and Harry's counting on me!"

"War is no place for children."

"It became our war when we were. We aren't children any longer."

"I can see that," he said, measuring her up and down with his eyes from his position on the floor with a single mocking eyebrow raised. She blushed only slightly but raised her chin. Stubborn.

"I said I was going with you. You will be no more effective in dissuading me than I will be in you. I will take every precaution to keep us safe. Doubtless I will think of many things that you won't. Allow me to provide what protection I can, one more time. I'm not old and useless yet."

"I never said you were," she whispered. "I just wanted..."

"Wanted me to remain safe where you wouldn't have to worry about me? I've been wanting the same thing since Mr. Potter arrived at the school seven years ago. Get used to not having your wishes met by circumstance. I want that megalomaniac gone as much as anyone. If there's a chance that I can free myself and keep others safer for it, I will not stand idly by. Not this time."

"Fine." She offered her hand to help him up. "We'll prepare as best we can and then we'll go back. I only hope we will be in time to lend aid where it's needed."

He took her hand and the two of them got his feet back underneath him.

"We will need a few things from my home. Do you think you can wait that long?"

"I've always felt that being properly prepared made up for any time lost in the preparation."

"Good. Off we go, then." He spun them off into nothing with only that small warning. The next thing she knew, they were standing in an ill-lit alleyway with cobblestones beneath their feet.

She felt the cold creep of a disillusionment spell wriggle down the back of her neck and watched her own hands disappear from sight.

Severus grabbed her by the wrist and led her quickly across the street to the row of houses on the other side. They shifted apart, revealing another one between them like the houses at Grimmauld Place. She flet the slight shifting of his hand at her wrist, indicating his body moving with the strength of his other arm as he dismantled whatever wards he had in place. They were silent until they were safely behind the door inside. It closed with a finality that chilled her to the bone.

"Be wary. Wormtail might still be about," he whispered to her.

"Wormtail is dead," she told him while the disillusionment lifted.

"Ah. Very well then. Welcome to my humble abode," he said with a strange sarcastic curl to his lips and the flourish of his hand.

"Thanks," she said honestly and followed him further in to the dark, neglected house.

He moved swiftly and with purpose past the sitting room, opening the panel behind a bookcase that led to a staircase. "You will find a bathroom at the top of the stairs. The water closet is to the left of it. There are some of my strongest wards at the end of the hall. I will be up to dismantle them once I've been in my lab. Do not attempt them yourself."

"Where do they lead?" she wondered aloud.

"My bedroom. The rat kept trying to get in. He still has a nest up there somewhere. If you get bored and don't mind the smell, you might find something of interest in it, but I doubt it. Just wait for me once you've finished. I won't be long."

"Right. Thanks again." He nodded curtly and disappeared through the doorway on the wall beside the stair. She traversed the creaking steps with trembling legs, her stolen wand out and wavering in her hand. Her heart pounded. The house seemed to hate her very presence and she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. At least there were no shrieking portraits.

She found the closet and shut herself inside to do her business. The bathroom was cramped and a little dusty, but on the whole, clean. She dug inside her beaded bag for a fresh change of clothes. Her old ones hung a little tattered on her frame.

She knew he said he wouldn't be long, but still she could not resist stripping off and jumping under the shower head to spray herself off. She strained her ear to listen for the sounds of him coming up the stairs but it was hard to hear over the spatter of water on the tiles.

She showered quickly, running the soap over cuts sustained in the battles fought over so many days, hissing when they stung, but wanting to ward off any infection. The water never got properly hot and it had a slight sulfurous smell, but it felt like heaven after being on the run so long. Her days at Shell Cottage hadn't inured her to the perks of civilization quite yet.

Once the water ran clear of blood and soil, she switched it off, feeling odd to be naked in Snape's house. The towel on the rack smelled of mildew, but still she felt it was a luxury beyond words to be clean and dry once again. She shoved her soiled clothing deeper into the bag and hunted for a clean change of underwear. She pulled them on over still-damp legs, dragging them mercilessly although they wanted to catch, just in case Snape came looking for her and found her like that. They didn't have time for it and she was very certain she wasn't ready to be seen starkers by a man. It thrilled and scared her at the same time to think about it.

The rest of her clothes went on in a hurry and she brushed her teeth and used mouthwash with a proper sink. She exited the bathroom to find Snape on the other side, leaning against the wall with a pile of clothing bundled in his arms and absolutely no look of reproach on his face.

"My turn," was all he said as he swept past her into the bathroom. She leaned against the wall to get her raging pulse in check as she heard the rustle of fabric and the water come back on.

He closed the door but did not lock it.

Why hadn't he locked it?

Her hand trembled toward the knob. Her pulse pounded. She hovered, uncertain, on the edge of a discovery that might change her life.

She drew her hand back, curling the fingers under, and held the hand to her chest.

She wasn't ready. Her courage failed her in this.

Battles, she could face. The Cruciatus curse was nothing next to the torture of wanting something and being unable to grasp for it. She waited, leaning on the far wall until he came out in fresh robes with wet hair, looking for all the world like her professor after a shower. She smelled him then, a mixture of old parchment, freshly mown grass, dragonhide leather, and something undefined that was purely his own skin.

"How is your neck?" she questioned lamely while all she wanted was to sink into his chest and shut the world out.

"Better. I had some strengthening solution, blood replenisher, and a bit more of the antivenin in my stores. Now all that's left is a slight headache and a bit of shell-shock to deal with," he answered truthfully. "Are you injured in any way? Do you need something?"

"Scrapes and bruises. A little bit of lingering wobble from the Cruciatus. A pulled muscle here or there, but otherwise good."

"You were put under the Cruciatus?" he came forward quickly, grasping her arms and looking her over in alarm. "How long? When? Who cast it?"

"A few minutes at the most," she replied while he grabbed her hand and manipulated the joints. "It happened a few days ago, before the break-in at Gringott's. Bellatrix Lestrange cast it."

"You're still inside the window. Come," he demanded, pulling her back down into the lower floor, passing an old kitchen and taking her through another hidden door in the pantry to the basement.

His lab was small but serviceable, with cauldrons stacked along the wall on shelves and a strange mixture of alchemical equipment interspersed with mundane chemistry sets. Bottles lined the wall on the other side, phials dried in their racks, and a cabinet at the far side opened at their approach with more phials stored inside it. Snape's spiky handwriting stood out on all the labels, and he reached inside without hesitation to bring out one with a yellow liquid showing through the crystal glass. He unstoppered it with quick, agile surety and held it out to her. "Drink," he commanded and pressed the potion into her hand.

"What is it?"

"Drink it first, I'll tell you what it is while it takes effect."

Did she trust him enough to drink something he handed to her without first knowing what it was? She took a moment to look at him. He was impatient but concerned, but also a master spy. Everything she had known about him was a lie. He wasn't her enemy, but he could still have something planned that she wouldn't like.

Whatever his game, she was sure he could have acted before now to ruin her own plans, so she felt that it was harmless to take something he offered her, now. It wold probably save her from some lingering aftereffect from the Cruciatus she was unaware of. He'd certainly undergone it himself enough times.

She prayed for good luck and downed the phial. He led her to a chair right before the world went dim and pain blossomed outward from her chest. She stared at him in horror and betrayal right before she blacked out.

She came back around to see Snape siphoning something dark off her skin with his wand and putting it into a phial. "What the hell did you give me?" she whispered hoarsely at his retreating back.

He took the phial and poured it out into the flames of the fireplace at the far end of the room. Unearthly screams seemed to pour forth while the black smoke escaped up the flue.

"I gave you something to push the curse out to the surface so it would not taint you further. It is an unfortunate side-effect that you must relive the pain in reverse. For that I am truly sorry, but you were within the window of time before the curse became permanently locked in with your magical signature and I know no other way to prevent it."

"Oh." She was at a loss. She thought for sure he'd given her something to put her out of the fight and yet again she felt shame for misreading his intentions.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've gone backward through hell. Weak. Hungry."

"That's good. It means it worked."

"Thank you," she murmured and smiled.

"Let us go find something to eat and then we'll go back."

"I hate fighting on an empty stomach," she joked and won a sly smile from him. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest at the sight of Snape. Smiling.

They ate beans out of cans with spoons. He apologized for the scarce selection, but she waved it away and ate with ravenous appetite.

"It's better than anything I've eaten in a long while."

She finished off the can and went to brush her teeth again. He watched her and said nothing, but she could tell he was puzzled. "My parents were dentists," she offered, "if nothing else, they instilled proper oral hygiene in me irrevocably." They stared at one another across the kitchen for a long time, needing to go back but fearing it.

"If we don't make it through this alive," she began, walking toward him with hesitation in her steps, "I want to say thank you. For all you've done."

"I should like to thank you as well. You saved my life although I was an enemy."

She reached him and stopped, peering up into his unfathomable black eyes. "I don't think I could ever see you as an enemy."

"Hmm," he said, and now he was at a loss for words.

"All those years you protected us. All those times you hid your true intentions, but your actions betrayed that you wanted to keep us safe. I almost lost faith in that. Thankfully, I found it again while you were still breathing. Will you... let me..." They'd grown quite close, her face inches from his.

"Let you what?" he murmured, raising a hand to cup the back of her neck.

"Kiss you," she responded, and they came together on a sigh, lips tangling and meshing once more. She poured everything into the kiss, all her hope and passion with her fear of never being able to do so again.

He devoured her lips, her tongue, her sighs. He held her close in a nearly crushing grip, his arms gathering her up to him while he knew that he had no right to. She chose this, he had to remind himself, and wonder at it.

They broke away, breathing heavy. He caught sight of a single tear glistening down her pale cheek and reached out to brush it away.

"Whatever happens, however things stand in the end," he rumbled, drawing her back to him, "my house can be found at Spinner's End."

"If we get separated, will you come back here?"

"I will."

"Very well, then. Let's go."