Year Four: Sights Best Unseen

The letter came before Snape had left Hogwarts at the end of the term. He had been pacing his office, nursing a still-smoldering rage about Black's escape and the now dashed promise of an Order of Merlin from the Minister of Magic.

Harry Potter and his crew had staged it all. Lupin had backed them up. At least Snape had one morsel of cold comfort. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was again open because someone, well, actually, HE had let slip to Cornelius Fudge that Lupin was a werewolf. He had informed Fudge that at that very moment, in fact, the man was running about the Hogwarts grounds, his mind wracked with the ravages of lycanthropy, hungrily hunting for his next victim. Snape knew this because Lupin hadn't been in his office to take the Wolfsbane Potion Snape had brought him the night of Black's attack.

He did stop to consider Potter's story. Peter Pettigrew not dead but living in his Animagus form for all these years. Pettigrew responsible for James and Lily's deaths, and Black innocent of all charges. It would be one way of explaining Black's survival in Azkaban all those years. A truly innocent soul could not be broken even by Dementors. Dumbledore believed the story, but Fudge didn't. Snape felt skeptical of everything.

He had made another round by the shelves of his office, then back to his desk, when he heard a thump at his door. Opening it, he saw an owl at the threshold, shaking itself to clear its head from the impact. A letter was secured to its leg. The writing was familiar and Snape immediately knew what the contents told.

Dear Professor Snape,

Davindra

He decided not to reply. He wasn't even sure what he would say. He just continued packing and went home to Spinner's End. Once there, he re-read the letter several times and continued his pacing, but in new scenery.

Eventually, Snape went to his room and began digging in the back of his closet. He pulled out old robes and jackets and tossed them aside until he had created a jumbled, black carpet of clothes on the floor. In the corner of the closet, he found what he was looking for. It had gathered dust and moths for several years, but there wasn't any question that it was the best choice he had. Putting the old Muggle suit on, Snape surveyed his appearance. It seemed as though he was thinner than in years past. The clothing sat loosely on his frame. There was no hope in gaining weight in two day's time, especially with his cooking skills, and his knowledge of tailoring spells was scant. Also, the style was a bit out of fashion, but he would simply have to make do.

The day of the funeral came, and Snape set out early for the church. He checked himself in the mirror once more. The black jacket and trousers were now respectably clean and pressed. A plain dark shirt underneath was buttoned to the neck. Snape fidgeted and fussed with himself, feeling uncomfortable and exposed without his long coat and cloak. But if this were to take place in a Muggle church, he would have to fit in. As it was, his long, lank hair and ghostly complexion would get enough notice. And if there was one thing he did not want to do that day, it was draw attention to himself. He at least had confidence in his ability to keep his manner inconspicuous in a crowd. Patting the pocket that held the binding amulet of green beryl, and securing his wand up his sleeve, he set off.

It was a misty, cool morning at the old stone church. Its steeples rose menacingly high in the air casting long shadows over the grounds and nearby cemetery. But the partly cloudy sky gave tepid promise of sun by afternoon. Snape strolled through the cemetery, absent-mindedly reading the names on the weathered tombstones. Some were hundreds of years old and hardly discernable; some were from the time of the Dark Lord's rein. He wondered if any of them had been unwitting victims. There were many blocks of families, and Snape thought of his own father's grave and how he had seen it only once, sitting among a few other unfamiliar, long-gone Snape family members. He found himself hoping that when he did finally go, someone would have the good charity to burn his body to ashes and throw them to the wind. The idea of being carefully encased in a wooden box and ceremoniously set into the ground seemed utterly revolting and hedonistic. Besides, he heavily doubted there would be anyone to stand around his corpse weeping and mourning his death.

The distant echo of a car door slamming caught his attention, and Snape looked across the broad lawn to see people beginning to arrive for the ceremony. He continued to stay hidden at the edge of the cemetery furthest from the church, near a wooded area, and surveyed the activity. Car upon car pulled up, and clusters of darkly clad people began to filter into the church. The migration continued for some time. Snape could easily spot the wizards among the Muggles. They were notoriously bad at blending in, and he wondered how gifted people could be so dim. One man arrived wearing a tall black top hat and tails, but with a brightly flowered tie and golf pants. A woman showed up with a paisley housecoat and snow boots.

Near the last to arrive was the Collins family. The luxury cars pulled directly in front of the church, and the driver came around to open the doors. A woman who could be none other than Davindra's mother was first helped from the backseat. She was small, thin, and fair haired, much like her own mother, Lillyth Sparrow. Davindra emerged next. She was clothed in a straight, black dress, her hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck. She looked stoic and regal as she put her arm about her delicate mother and escorted her toward the church. Not far behind were Demelza Collins and Lillyth herself, both dressed in tasteful yet elegant dark Muggle dresses, fur stoles, hats, shoes, and broaches all matched expertly. Other family members, unknown to Snape, appeared. Some looked like normal Muggles, others had the eclectic tinge of a wizard or witch out of their element.

When the crowds had stopped coming, Snape crept from his hiding place and silently slipped into the church. The service had already begun. A clergyman stood at a tall pulpit speaking in a drab monotone voice. Snape silently slipped in to an empty pew at the very back of the sanctuary. While the service droned on, Snape only half listened to the words being spoken about David Collins. He apparently was well thought of by the community and his friends; he was a successful businessman who did something with developing some part for something else, and he was active in many civic organizations; as well as a loving and devoted father and husband. As the words buzzed about his head, Snape made a game of looking around the church and deciding who was a Muggle and who was a wizard.

'Muggle, Muggle, Muggle, wizard, wizard, Muggle, Muggle but with very bad taste. It looks like she's wearing a flowerpot on her head. Muggle, wizard.'

The service ended, and the pipe organ began its mournful recessional. People rose and filed past the casket, stopping to speak words of comfort to the Collins's. Finally Davindra and her mother got up to exit the building, followed by the other family members. Both women looked red-eyed and shell-shocked. Neither seemed to be looking at anyone in their path, but gazing straight ahead as if fixing every ounce of concentration on leaving as quickly as possible. When they neared the last pew where Snape now stood, Davindra's eyes snapped straight to him. Snape gave her an expressionless stare. Her mouth opened in surprise, and her watery eyes grew even larger. She slowed momentarily, but then seemed to remember her mother at her arm and continued on.

Snape slipped out of the church and walked back toward the cemetery. If he knew her as well as he thought, then she would escape the clutches of her family and find him. Even now he could feel her eyes on him as he wove his way between the headstones.

"Professor?" Her breathy voice sounded from a few rows behind him.

He turned to see her tentatively walking toward him, her eyes darting back to her gathering family near the cars.

"I didn't expect you to come. I wasn't even sure you got the message, since you didn't respond."

She was now as tall as he was, though today she was wearing heels. She looked graceful and lean, all in black, her hair drawn back to expose her swan-like neck. The young woman before him was a far advanced form of the coy, impish girl he had spent the past four years battling and struggling with.

Snape labored for what to say. Her expression spoke of great expectation in his appearance.

"I do hope you've managed to sleep," was all he could find to comment on. "I have some very good potions if you find you're still having trouble."

She smiled weakly. "No, Grandmother has made sure I'm well supplied. I've slept some, thank you."

The heavy silence was uncomfortable. Snape had no idea he would be so bad at this. He steadied himself behind a cold, stoic demeanor, and she stood bravely, her long, thin arms wrapped around herself. They regarded each other with careful looks.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Collins." Snape pushed the words from his mouth. "Your father sounded like an honorable man."

She smiled sadly. "He was. You would have found him... interesting."

He nodded slightly in return. "I know this last year was very hard for you, and for the one exception regarding my supply closet," he raised his eyebrows, "you handled this all very admirably."

Her smile grew slightly and she snorted, "Am I never to be forgiven for that mistake?"

He said nothing for a moment, and her eyes looked into his to see if he truly still harbored ill feelings.

"You're forgiven," he said quietly.

She smiled wider still and wiped at the fresh tears that began at the corner of her eyes. Snape noticed a dark smear on her finger when she drew it away.

"When did you start wearing make-up?" he asked in shock.

Again she snorted a little laugh. "About two years ago, thanks for noticing. Although today isn't a good for it."

Again they were plunged into an awkward silence. She shuffled her black, heeled shoes in the damp grass, and he stood unmoving as a statue.

"There's going to be a lunch, some family members and such, at our house," she stammered. "Would you like to come? I know they'd like to meet you."

Snape nearly shuddered with horror at having to socialize with strange Muggles and wizards under such depressed circumstances.

"No, I can't stay." Glancing at the group of family gathered to leave the church, Snape saw Madame Collins looking about, most likely in search of Davindra. He had to be quick. "I have something for you."

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the narrow slab of green beryl on a long, delicate chain. Wrapped around the crystal was a thin, tightly intertwined braid of their hairs. Snape held the charm up in front of her, and she gazed at it in curious wonder.

"What is it?" she asked as he slipped it over her head.

Silently he spoke the incantation that would activate the crystal's binding properties as the amulet nestled against her chest.

He had been rehearsing his explanation for the crystal for some time. "This is so you will never have to worry about me being there for you. As long as you wear this, I can find you, if you ever need me."

She looked from the charm she took in her hand to his face. He wasn't sure if she was trying to read into the gesture something he didn't intend or if she saw exactly what he did intend. However, he stood silently impassive, refusing to reveal any more.

Glancing again toward the gathering family members, he uttered, "Best keep it hidden."

Davindra nodded and quickly dropped the amulet down the front of her dress, squirming so it would situate itself between her breasts. "What will I need to do to use it?"

Snape couldn't keep his eyebrow from twitching as he replied, "Just concentrate."

Before he could react, she had thrown her arms around him, her whole body crushed to him in a tight embrace. Her face was pressed into his neck, her breath in his hair. A shaky sigh escaped her, tickling his skin and warming him to the core. For several seconds he stood frozen, unable to respond or move. Still, she didn't pull away. He could feel her body expanding and contracting as she breathed. He could feel her fingers gripping at his jacket.

Finally, he commanded his arm to move, thinking he could push her away. But instead he found his hand coming to rest against the small of her back. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders with no command from him. Snape remembered the times when one look from her could knock the breath out of his body. That was nothing compared to the intoxicating chaos that filled him now. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering in his chest or the shaking that seemed to come from inside his bones.

A few airless, silent moments passed, as though they were standing inside a vacuum. When her grip began to loosen, Snape self-consciously drew his arms away and held her by the shoulders. Her face was red and damp with tears, more flakes of mascara dotted her cheeks. She sniffed and dabbed a tissue to her eyes. He couldn't resist gently brushing away the dark flecks with his finger.

They stood very close together, looking into each other's faces when the sound of approaching feet lifted them out of their private moment. Madame Collins and Lillyth Sparrow had found their hiding spot, and both looked vaguely pleased at having discovered it.

"Severus," Madame Collins spoke, "how kind of you to pay your respects today." There was a trace of venom under the sweet greeting.

Snape gave very slight bows to both women as he addressed each one. "I simply wanted to express my deepest sympathies to the entire family. It is a truly tragic loss."

"Thank you so much for coming, Professor Snape," Lillyth spoke in a soft, silky tone. "I'm sure Davindra appreciates it more than you could ever know." She reached out and drew the girl to her, producing a fresh tissue from her pocket, which she tucked into Davindra's hand.

"We really must be going now, Davi," Madame Collins stated, eyeing Lillyth. "The cars are waiting. You two run ahead. I just want a moment with our dear Potions master."

Snape's stomach turned with dread.

"It was good to see you again, Professor," Lillyth spoke. "I do hope next time is under more pleasurable circumstances." Her blue eyes twinkled, and her smile was heated with promise as she turned from him, pulling Davindra behind her.

Davindra allowed herself to be guided away, but her gaze was reluctant to leave him. She left with her hand pressed against her chest where the amulet lay.

When finally alone, Demelza Collins looked up at Snape with amused scrutiny. "What exactly are you doing here?" Her voice was low and a shade darker than before. "Wearing your best Muggle suit even, which I dare say is about ten years past its prime. You look like the undertaker."

"As though I'd stand out amongst this lot?" Snape asked snidely. "I hadn't realized that wearing my slippers and robe would help me blend in better."

Demelza gave a soft chuckle. "Yes, it is amazing how socially limited wizards can be. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to pass along a Littlewoods catalog as reference on how to dress in the Muggle world. All they do is stand in amazement that the pictures don't move."

"Speaking of Muggles, Madame Collins, where is your husband?" Snape quizzed.

"Malcolm?" she replied in surprise. "Oh, he's been gone for years now. I thought you knew."

"The Collins women don't appear to have good luck with longevity in their mates, do they?" He couldn't resist the biting comment, despite its inappropriateness, nor its possible prodding of Demelza's wrath.

Surprisingly, she again chuckled. "It's those frail Muggles. I will never allow Davi to marry a Muggle. They are not worth the heartache. Now, back to my question, Severus. What are you really doing here?"

Snape twitched his brow and gave a slight shrug to his shoulders. "Can I not show my reverence for the father of one of my students and the son of a favored Potions teacher?"

"Oh, you could," she replied. "But I don't think that's the reason. Is it Davi you are wishing to impress? Because I suspect you were hoping to avoid me, considering you're skulking around in a graveyard. Or was it Lillyth perhaps? She told me you two met last summer. She was quite impressed." Demelza gave a slick smile.

"I resent all of your insinuations," he returned with a narrowed glare. "Firstly, is Mrs. Sparrow not a married women?"

"Oh, yes, but she and Clive haven't lived together for ages. They have an understanding." Her eyes flashed lasciviously. "It works quite well for them both. So you see, she is always on the look out for... new company."

Though he found the information quite interesting and perhaps valuable for the future, the last thing he wanted to do was display his desires to the woman before him who would no doubt later use them against him.

"Still," Snape uttered with annoyance, "I do not make a habit of pursuing dalliances that appear so obviously fraught with danger. As for your granddaughter, her frail emotional and physical health over the last year were of great concern to everyone at Hogwarts. I only wished to ease my mind, and those of the faculty, that she is doing as well as could be expected."

"Oh, now you have concern for her health, you say?" A sharp edge returned to her voice. "When last year she was in the hospital ward due to exhaustion?"

"I think that had much more to do with your demands upon her than mine," Snape delivered darkly.

"What are you trying to say, Severus? Might as well just spit it out. My Legilimency is not what it once was."

Snape eyed the surroundings. This was hardly the place he would wish to get into a full-blown battle. There were still several Muggles milling about, and he felt inexplicably vulnerable at that moment.

"I meant no disrespect," he said biting back a desire to snap at her accusation. "Your granddaughter had implied to me that you had suggested she work extra hard to perhaps distract herself from the issues at home. Not an unrealistic suggestion, but one, I'm afraid, she took to heart."

"And what do I have you for, Severus, if you do not tend to the issues that I cannot intervene in when she is at your school?" Her eyes flashed a warning.

"I have done my best, Madame," Snape hissed through clenched teeth. His temper was getting harder to hold. "But as I keep telling you, your offspring is not my only responsibility. I have hundreds of other students to watch, lessons to plan and grade, as well as extra activities to supervise, and any special assignment Dumbledore entrusts to me. I can assure you, I give all the attention that I can spare to your granddaughter while not neglecting the numerous other things that call my attention."

"I can appreciate your loyalty." Back was the smooth delivery, the menacing front only slightly lowered. "But I think in time you will see where your effort is best spent and what rewards will be truly valuable in the end."

Snape gave her a questioning look and read there was a hidden meaning to her words.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said waving her finger at him. "No pilfering though my mind for details that would be none of your business anyway."

"Madame Collins, I'm sure..." he began to show a well rehearsed wounding.

"I must be going, Severus," she announced suddenly, straightening the fox fur stole that draped the crook of her arm. "I have an appearance to make at a luncheon."

Snape again swallowed his anger to calmly say, "Again, my deepest sympathies for the loss of your son."

"You doubt my grief, do you?" she asked with a note of offense in her voice.

"I would not be so bold."

"Yes, you would." Her eyes cut into him like swords. "But perhaps you're not feeling so brave today is all."

"Perhaps, Madame's Legilimency is better than she attests to."

Again she straightened her stole and looked into him with Davindra's pale, icy-green eyes. "What will your continued commitment to my granddaughter cost me this year?"

"I would have thought you had something well in plan by now," Snape replied.

"Could that be what flushed you out of hiding for the summer? You've come to expect as much from this arrangement as I have."

"I'm afraid you are quite mistaken," he said silkily. "If you told me right now that I was released of my obligation to tutor your granddaughter, I would practically dance with joy."

Demelza chuckled softly. "As much as I'd like to see that, I won't be giving you the opportunity just yet. Do not fret, my dear man, I have something that I'm certain will tempt your loyalties my way once again. For now, I have other commitments to tend to. We'll speak soon, Severus."

She gave a wry smile as she turned and made her way through the headstones to the waiting car. Snape watched her go, then Apparated back to Spinner's End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Though he yearned to attempt the Vision Well the moment he arrived home, Snape forced himself to give it more time. He positively twitched with curiosity about how well the enchantment really worked. But he told himself that there was no need to hurry and that there was surely nothing happening in Davindra's life worth witnessing at the present moment.

He had heard nothing from her nor from Madame Collins for several weeks after the funeral. Snape was left with his solitude, following the games of the Quidditch World Cup over the WWN.

Finally, he had had enough of his own patience, and on a particularly warm, restless night, he gathered the objects together and began the spell to bring the Vision Well to life. The stone bowl was filled with a smoky element that wafted over the slab of green beryl at the bottom. Snape concentrated on the crystal, so like the color of the subject's eyes, and muttered the magic words over and over until he felt himself pulled away from his surroundings. It was an almost painful sensation, as though his bare skin were being peeled off of a sticky surface with a sudden jerk. But it was, thankfully, quick.

He heard her before he saw her.

"Mum?"

Her voice sounded close, though he could see nothing but a dark fog at first.

"Mum?"

She had crossed in front of him.

"Mum!"

Slowly the fog cleared, and Snape could see a wide, dimly lit, hall and foyer of what he assumed was the Collins family home. She walked past him again. She wore casual Muggle clothes and her hair was loose.

"Mum? Where are you?" Davindra reached for a door that stood open only a crack and peeked inside. "There you are. What are you doing?"

Snape felt himself pulled along with her movements as she walked into the room. It was an office, and behind a large wood desk sat Davindra's mother, Abigail. Her pretty, fair head was bent over some papers in her hand when she looked up at her daughter.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry. I've been in here for just hours," she sighed.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to find some insurance papers. I wish I had thought to do more of these things before your father died. There is so much I don't have a clue about."

Her petite form slouched in the chair, the large, masculine furnishings making her appear even more fragile and small.

Davindra picked up a pile of the papers and started flipping through them. "I could help you, you know. You don't have to do this all on your own."

"I know," Abigail said, taking her daughter's hand. "But you have done so much, far too much in fact. I should be ashamed of how much responsibility I've let my teenage daughter shoulder for me through all this."

"What are you going to do, ask one of your nutty wizard cousins or uncles to take care of this stuff? We hardly talk to the Muggle relatives. So I'm it, really." Davindra finished with a comforting smile and continued flipping pages.

"Look for anything from a company called Mission Insurance Alliance, whatever that is," Abigail said as she too returned to the pile of file folders in front of her.

There were several minutes of silent paper shuffling and a few comments from each about things they found. It was mind-numbingly boring to witness, Snape concluded. He began to ready himself to return to his home, deciding he would not hear or see anything of any interest, when Abigail again spoke.

"Oh, Davi, I have kept forgetting to ask you. Who was that man you were talking to in the cemetery the day of the funeral?"

Snape's ears perked up at his mention, and he found himself attempting to lean closer.

"That was my Potions teacher from Hogwarts," Davindra said with shy smile.

"Was it?" Abigail exclaimed with enthusiasm. "How thoughtful of him to come. Why didn't you invite him back to the house? I would have loved to meet him. Uncle Avery would have been very interested in talking with him, I'm sure."

"I did invite him, but he said he couldn't stay. He's not really the social sort," she said, again giving a smile that only Snape knew the real meaning of.

Abigail made a noise of consideration at the statement. "Did you see the wonderful note from Albus Dumbledore? He's such a lovely man."

"Yes, I did see it. He is nice."

"Have I told you about how badly I wanted to go to Hogwarts when I was a little girl?" she asked with a wistful smile. "But Mother said they wouldn't take Squibs. I was so brokenhearted over it."

Davindra laughed. "Granny Lilly did tell me about when you tried to make a shrinking potion for the cat because you wanted a kitten."

"Oh, it was dreadful! That poor cat." Abigail laughed along with her daughter.

There was again quiet for a few moments, broken only by the rustle of papers.

"What happened to that fellow from Hogwarts you were dating at the end of last term?" Abigail asked, breaking the silence.

"Roger," Davindra supplied. "Oh, we stopped seeing each other in the spring. I wasn't really that interested in him. He was just someone to go to Hogsmeade with and such."

This was news to Snape. She had chastised him for persecuting Davies with such fervor that he assumed she must be quite attached to the boy. He now felt foolish for allowing himself to become so agitated by a few frivolous dates.

"I thought you really liked him. He was captain of the Quidditch team, wasn't he?" Abigail asked. "That sounds pretty exciting."

"Yeah, he's a great guy, I just wasn't very interested in anything serious." Davindra kept shuffling through the papers, avoiding her mother's stare.

"Have you heard from many of your Hogwarts friends?"

"Yeah, a few."

"I haven't been able to keep track with all the different owls going in and out of here," Abigail sighed. "The neighbors are probably thinking we're running an exotic bird farm."

Davindra laughed softly.

"I'm sorry, Davi," Abigail said as she looked at her daughter apologetically. "We just haven't had time to talk and get caught up on things. I feel like I've missed so much this last year. I feel like you got pushed aside, and that's not right. I mean, I didn't even come see you when you were in hospital at school!"

"Mum, don't worry about it," Davindra soothed with a warm smile. "We've had other things going on. I never felt slighted or ignored. Dad needed you the most. And we've got all summer to get caught up and spend time together. In fact, if you don't want me to leave in the fall, I don't have to."

Even Snape could read that she said that statement with hope that it would be rejected.

Abigail smiled and again took Davindra's hands. "No, come September, you march yourself right back to Hogwarts and start living your wonderful, adventurous life again. Besides, I couldn't take Demelza's wrath if you didn't go."

They both giggled at what Snape knew was an all too real estimate of Madame Collins's reaction to any thwarting of her plans for Davindra.

"Have you eaten?" Abigail asked.

"No, not yet."

"There is still so much food left. And people keep bringing it. Like they think we've lost our minds in regards to how to use the kitchen. Let's go have something. I'm so sick of looking at papers and getting paper cuts, I could scream." She tossed the papers on the desk and got up to put her arm around her daughter and both walked from the office.

Snape felt himself pulled behind them, but didn't feel the need to watch them eat. He commanded himself out of the vision and again felt the sharp sting to his skin before he returned to his dim and dismal living quarters.

There was no doubt that the Vision Well worked perfectly. Snape could feel great satisfaction with that, but also he had a strange empty sensation inside. Seeing the interaction between mother and daughter wasn't as altogether dull as he had assumed. However, it did remind him of things he had forced from his mind many years ago and had not visited since. His own home life had been barely a sliver of the life Davindra led.

When he was a boy, there had never been the ease of conversation like he had just seen. There were either screams or whispers uttered in the Snape home. There was never honest discussion and open displays of emotion. There were only guarded, carefully constructed statements and frantic efforts to predict when Tobias Snape's temper would break into a roaring rage. His own mother had little to offer him in the way of comfort or protection when she herself was horribly terrorized and abused.

Snape looked around the familiar walls, wondering if they had soaked up all the trauma and horror that had happened inside them for so many years, like a malevolent sponge. For now, there was only empty peace and silence. But at any moment, could the house release the dark contents it had been hoarding in its porous, decrepit frame and drown him with memories?

He needed air. He needed to be away from there so he could breathe freely, if only for a little while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Vision Well could have proven to be a very addictive distraction. Every day, Snape eyed it and wondered if it was worth delving into. Mostly, he had just come into conversations between Davindra and her mother talking about friends, or her father, or sometimes just watching television together, or eating in silence. Sometimes he found Davindra alone reading or walking the grounds near her home. Once he had found her sleeping on her bed. It was late on a hot day, and she had fallen asleep reading a book on enchantments for everyday objects. He had stood and simply watched her for some time.

Several times he had not been able to make the Vision Well work. He would come through it only to be kept in dismal fog that would not clear. He speculated that it was during these times that Davindra was not wearing the amulet. At first he cursed her for not always having it on her, as he had asked. But one day he made a second attempt to reach her after the first failed, only to find her in the finishing stages of dressing after a shower. Her hair was still damp, and she was just tucking the amulet down the front of her shirt as the vision appeared to him.

Snape found himself suddenly thankful that Davindra had been astute enough to not wear the amulet during bathing or other intimate moments. Finding himself dropped into such a startling situation would be more than he would ever want to be burdened with. Even though he knew his spying was in itself iniquitous, he knew he'd forever hate himself for being witness to things that would only drive him mad to bear witness to.

He found it harder and harder to resist the temptation of the Well. There was a certain time of night when he felt himself especially drawn to it. Normally, at that time, Davindra could be found preparing herself for bed. It was late and the house around her would be quiet and dark. Sometimes she would be sitting at the window looking out into the black night. Other times she might be in bed with an open book, but staring up into nothingness. This night she sat at her dressing table, toying with the amulet that hung around her neck. A dim bedside table lamp cast dusky shadows about the room.

She held the crystal up close to her eyes and appeared to be trying to see into its depths. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she dropped it to let it hang around her neck, dangling against the front of the sleeveless summer nightgown she wore.

Davindra seemed agitated and restless. She sat at the table mindlessly fingering pieces of jewelry or opening and closing trinket boxes. Next, she spent time brushing her hair then braiding it, then letting it lose, then putting it into a knot, again shaking it down. Finally, Davindra left the table to sit on the edge of the bed. Again, she sighed and took the amulet in hand.

Snape wondered if she were attempting to reach him, as he had told her she could do by simply concentrating. He almost felt guilty about the promise of communication he had given her. He hadn't figured what would happen if she really did try to reach him. He had only assumed that the idea of the charm would give her comfort and that he would keep a close enough eye on her to know if his assistance was needed.

If she only knew how close he already was. How would she feel knowing he was standing in the corner of her room, watching her intently, cataloging her every movement? She might feel angry and intruded upon. She might be flattered and happy to have him so close, though she couldn't see or feel him. Snape thought back to the emotions he had read from inside her mind. She hadn't protested him climbing into her brain and viewing her most secret thoughts. As far as Snape was concerned, she had all but offered herself for disclosure.

He continued to watch her, wishing he could use Legilimency while in the Well. She seemed to be thinking most fiercely.

Davindra dropped the amulet and closed her eyes, as though giving herself over to the lateness of the night and the chaos in her head. Again she sighed, a slow, breathy moan. She tucked her hands between her thighs and appeared to stretch. Another sigh.

Drawing her legs up, she climbed into the covers of her bed and lay still for a moment. Snape was reminded of when he had seen her lying in the Great Hall under the enchanted sky. He felt the familiar urge to reach out and smooth her hair and brush his lips against her sleepy eyes.

There were several moments of rustling and squirming, more sighing and moans. Suddenly Snape felt an icy sensation in the pit of his stomach. The mounds of covers, which were Davindra's knees, were splayed apart, and her hands had disappeared underneath. Closing his eyes, Snape silently screamed the words that brought him safely to his home. As he was pulled away from the horrific scene, his ears picked up the last of her soft, quickening moans.

Snape was left standing breathless and shaking in his silent, bleak room. Staggering away from the Vision Well, his quivering legs found a chair he was able to collapse in. He sat head in hands, fingers clawing at his oily hair, trying to steady his breath. Despite the sickening feeling that was still washing over him, Snape felt the unmistakable tingling and tightening of his groin. Instinctively his hand squeezed the hardening bulge when he remembered himself and what had inspired the illicit lust. Pulling his hand away, he felt the overpowering urge to wash it with very hot water and Bark Acid soap.

Pressing both his hands to his temples, Snape attempted to squeeze out the memory of what he had just seen and heard. If he had any sense at all, he told himself, he would destroy the Vision Well immediately. He had been narrowly avoiding something of this licentious nature for weeks. It was his own greedy, meddlesome fault.

He pressed harder, wanting to expunge the last sounds he had heard. The sounds he would spend a lifetime wishing to forget. The faint, urgent, begging sound of her whispering his name. "Severus... Severus... "