Year Six: The Truth Enslaved

The reprieve was only a couple of days. Only a few short days for Snape to sequester himself in his house and see and speak to no one. He spent hours upon hours lying in bed thinking and periodically dozing. Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, Davindra, and Madame Collins floated in and out of his consciousness.

Sometimes he would hold his bare forearm up and stare at the Dark Mark stained onto his skin. Snape would allow his mind to go back to those years right out of Hogwarts when he wanted recognition and respect so badly he was willing to do anything for it. So he had sold himself cheaply to a master who gave him quick and easy promise of it. Now he was forever indentured for something he would never attain. His arm felt heavy, like it was bound in lead chains. He would let it limply fall to the bed. Snape doubted he would live to see freedom again.

When his brain got too overwhelmed with things from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, and he began to forget what promises belonged to whom, he would allow himself to crawl into the delicious memory of Davindra. His hectic life had kept him from putting much thought into the tryst they had experienced. There wasn't enough of his brain or heart left free to devote to dwelling upon the matter. Mostly, he was glad of it. But in those quiet times when his thoughts would nearly drive him mad, it was glorious comfort to take himself back to that incredible moment when nothing else mattered and no one existed besides the two of them.

He couldn't blame her for hating him. It was exactly what his words were intended to inspire. It was better that way, rather than her go on attempting to trail behind him because of some stupid concept of love or devotion. She would only get hurt, perhaps even killed. Loving him was detrimental to anyone, it seemed.

When even these thoughts became too much, there was still the memory of her flesh. The warmth and softness still registered in his fingers. Her light, sweet, fruity-vanilla scent still resided in his senses. The texture and taste of her skin and lips danced tauntingly on his tongue. The ring of dark green around the icy, pale iris of her eyes, the way her body fitted against him, the smell of her hair, her kisses, her kisses, her kisses, her kisses.

In the end, that memory would no longer inspire contentment but instead a gnawing, ardent hunger for something that he could never again have. He would soon find himself feeling spent, exhaling ragged breaths, and holding a wilting erection, covered in his own fluid.

Eventually the Dark Mark sang its fiery beckoning, and Snape knew he could linger no more in his own sanctuary of self-pity. Bidding his dreary home another seasonal good-bye, he headed off to fall at the feet of a merciless master.

Always the Dark Lord wanted information that Snape didn't possess and was reluctant to believe Snape's ignorance. Dumbledore did him a favor by not telling him many sensitive things, such as certain members of the Ministry who were Order contacts or the hiding places of certain weapons. The wise Headmaster knew that even the best Occlumens could be broken, and therefore, no one person, outside of Dumbledore, knew everything.

Even though the Dark Lord was not relying on Snape to the fullest extent, that didn't mean that Snape wasn't privy to important information. Death Eaters were vain, insecure parasites who felt the need to brag to each other about the amount of trust the Dark Lord put in them. This supplied most of the best information Snape had to give the Order. And because Lucius Malfoy was the biggest braggart of them all, Snape was able to come to Dumbledore with the most useful piece of information yet.

The Dark One wanted the prophecy. He wanted it in its original, completed form. And he planned to take it from its safe-keeping in the Department of Mysteries. It seemed that the Lord still smarted from Snape's partial delivery of the prophecy fourteen years earlier and now felt like he could undo the mistakes of the past if he only possessed that which had brought him down. At last the Order would have a clear mission to follow.

Dumbledore ordered Snape to make a full, detailed report to the Order as soon as possible. It would mean a trip to Sirius Black's house and surrounding himself with people who neither liked nor trusted him. Sometimes he hated Dumbledore for his insistence on his faith in him and the wizard's stubbornness that others accept Snape as readily as he with no proof of allegiance. Though everyone would listen to Snape's reports and seem eager for the information he gave, he had the feeling that without the Headmaster's backing, he would not be allowed in their midst. In fact, they would probably have him on the top of their list to eradicate, right under the name of the Dark Lord himself.

As usual, meetings of the Order always ended up in debates over the protection of Harry Potter and who was on guard next and who had seen what when they'd last guarded him. Snape generally shut out this particular discussion because he felt that he paid his dues guarding the obnoxious prat during school time.

After another weary gathering of bickering, discussion, and pep-talks, everyone stood about in groups discussing everything from gossip at the Ministry to how their garden was suffering from the lack of rain. Snape talked to no one and was organizing his notes to leave when he felt the eyes of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin on him. The two old friends would look at Snape then speak in quiet tones to each other. They made no attempt to hide their blatant slandering. Snape glared back and finished gathering his notes.

"You're welcome to stay and have a bite to eat, Severus." Molly Weasley appeared at his arm, tying on an apron. Her wide, childish face held a smile of trepidation not unlike the simple expressions he had seen on her offspring.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Snape replied grimly, casting a scowl in the gossiping pair's direction.

He attempted to move on through the small clumps of people in the dim kitchen, but the clearest path took him right past Black and Lupin.

"You know, you look like you could use a good meal," Lupin said casually when Snape walked near. "Mrs. Weasley is an excellent cook. Does things with potatoes that I didn't think possible."

"Thanks for the warning, Lupin," he sneered in reply. "But I don't think any of us can stomach a meal whilst in present company."

"Quite right," Black piped in, leveling a dark glare at Snape. "I suffer from enough indigestion as it is listening to Snivellus's reports."

The two men stared at each other viciously for a few seconds.

"So," Snape began with a wicked smirk, "how's the cleaning coming, Black? That house-elf managed to teach you a thing or two about dusting and sweeping, especially since you can't be of any real use to the Order?"

Immediately Lupin put himself between the two wizards who had started for each other, their wands out, and looks of murder in their eyes.

"Alright, you two, I think that's enough," he said in calm yet firm voice that Snape had heard him use on students while he held his position at Hogwarts. "What would Dumbledore say about a full-blown brawl here in the middle of headquarters. There was supposed to be a truce, wasn't there? His orders were for no open hostility."

"It's his fault," Black hissed through clenched teeth while jabbing a bony finger in Snape's face. "He shouldn't even BE here!"

Snape started to throw an equally scathing retort when Lupin again intervened. "Sirius, that's enough! We don't need to rehash this old tripe here. Severus was just leaving, weren't you?" The question was issued in the form of a command which Snape hated to obey on principle alone, though he did greatly wish to escape from the suffocating den of suspicion.

"Ever the peacemaker, aren't you, Lupin?" Snape uttered silkily with a narrowed gaze. "How honorable. Perhaps you could even learn something from your flea-bitten friend here, Black. That is, something besides urinating on trees and licking your own balls." He delivered his best chilling smile to both, though Black again made a move toward him against Lupin's protective arm.

"Maybe if you could lick your own balls you wouldn't have to coerce pretty, young students to do it for you!" Black said with incredulous triumph.

Snape cast an eviscerating look at the wolfman standing between him and Black. "Do you need to be muzzled to keep from spreading lies, Lupin?" he snarled viciously.

Lupin returned a dim smile. "Let's call it payback for you not being able to keep your mouth shut to the Minister of Magic about my furry little secret."

Before Snape could retaliate, a firm hand had him around the waist and was pulling him towards the door.

"A'right boys, grand show, grand show indeed," Mad Eye Moody piped in gruffly as he strong-armed the group apart. "Now save the rest for the real battle ahead."

Snape was escorted to the door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place by the ex-Auror with people looking on as though he were a drunk being tossed from a pub. In the hallway, Snape shook Moody lose.

"I can walk without assistance, thank you." He did little to keep the vitriol from his voice.

"You just make sure you keep that greasy head 'o yours cool when you're in here," Moody said firmly, his artificial eye spinning about watchfully. "We don't have time to be puttin' out little fires under our feet when the whole blame world is set to explode. If you can't play nice with Lupin and Black just stay the bloody hell away from 'em."

"I will if they will," Snape said gritting his teeth and casting an evil look back at the kitchen.

"They will and so will you, my dark friend," Moody stated with a pinky finger crooked in Snape's direction, "or I'll settle the score betwixt the lot of you once and for all."

Snape turned on his heels and left the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix with a bubbling, hot rage in his chest.

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

After Harry Potter was attacked by Dementors, the Order put itself into high alert. Unless the Dark Lord had already got to the guards of Azkaban, which could be assumed untrue since most of its cells were still filled with Death Eaters, then that would mean the Ministry itself set the ghoul upon Potter. Dumbledore had indeed been correct in his assessment that the governing body of the wizard kingdom was now plotting against the Hogwarts Headmaster and his small band of soldiers. Snape hated the sound of those odds.

Worse still was when Dumbledore called a meeting to announce that the Ministry had unabashedly placed a spy in Hogwarts. An inane decree had stipulated that the Ministry could fill any vacant faculty or staff position they wished. And since the Defense Against the Dark Arts position remained free, and the real Mad Eye Moody refused to take another go at it, the Ministry had placed their own in the spot. A boot-licking, draconian toad of a woman named Dolores Umbridge who sent a shudder through everyone she spoke to. When her appointment was announced, every Order member who also held a Hogwarts position let out an audible groan of protest.

Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet. "I can understand your displeasure. Believe me, no one is less happy about the Ministry's attempts to run Hogwarts than I. As most of you know, this woman is dangerous. Oh, she may look like someone's maiden aunt, but she is as cunning and cold-blooded as any Death Eater we will face. She's simply on the other side. I will warn everyone to take great precautions in dealing with her. Be careful in the classroom, be careful in the staff room. Say nothing in front of her that you wouldn't say to the Minster himself. With great subtly remind your students to be equally cautious in her presence. She is looking for ammunition for the Ministry and for chinks in our armor. Let's not allow her to find any. In fact, if we pay attention, I would expect to be rewarded with some valuable insight to the Ministry's plan of attack."

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

So the school year began with flurry of suspicious rumors and nervous fear. Some parents didn't want their children to come back to Hogwarts at all. For half of those, it was because they feared the Dark Lord's return. The other half feared the insanity and delusions that seemed to have taken hold of the teaching staff.

Equal unrest settled upon the teachers who knew what they were facing in the year ahead. Dumbledore hid his displeasure and worry masterfully from everyone as he approached the new year with his usual display of enthusiasm and whimsy. But several of them knew the truth that lay under the twinkling eyes and festive robes.

Snape considered himself lucky that his constant dour disposition allowed him to never have to pretend to be or feel something he didn't. Though often , "dour" was just exactly what he did feel.

The night of the welcome feast, "tired" and "distracted" could be added to his list of visible emotions. He paid attention to little besides the food on his plate, which he pushed about glumly with his fork, and the table of chattering, squirming Ravenclaws.

Davindra sat amongst her usual group, talking as normally as ever, except for those times when she would feel Snape's eyes on her and turn to look at him. He would then look away and pretend to be heavily engrossed in his steak and kidney pie. Soon he would have the sensation of being watched and look out to find her staring back at him. They would hold their exchange for a second, and something almost like a smile would dart across her face before she would look away and continue her conversation.

Snape had expected a much chillier reception from her after their last exchange during the summer. In fact, he meant to check his bed for snakes and his tea for poisons after she returned to Hogwarts. Her fury had been nearly as unsettling as the Dark Lord's. Her calm manner and slight smiles only added to his suspicion.

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

Dumbledore had been right about Umbridge's presence at Hogwarts. She made every room she inhabited nearly unbearable to be in. The moment she appeared in the staff lounge, people would begin making lavish excuses for things they had to do and places they had to be. If the staff were to get pinned in the same space with her long enough, Umbridge would get around to asking a lot of personal questions about their past and the subject they taught and their views on Ministry regulations and Albus Dumbledore.

Some showed more grace in their escape attempts than others. The best yet was Flitwick, saying that he suddenly realized he'd left something levitating, before his short legs carried him from the room unusually fast. Snape would simply open the door, and if he caught sight of the sweater-wearing toad, he would turn on his heels and walk out, often with her simpering voice sounding from behind the closing door, "Oh, Professor Snape, I was wondering if I might... hem HEM! "

It was no surprise to find Davindra Collins in his sixth-year Potions class. Her O in the Potions O.W.L. ensured her continuance in the study of potion-making. There was a disconcerting, satisfied smirk on her face as Snape began the class on the rigorous education in advanced potions. He found himself not wanting to turn his back on her all during the time he prowled about the room surveying everyone's progress.

Stopping by her cauldron to see that the concoction she had created was the exact shade of gold required, their eyes met over the steam.

"Everything look alright, Professor?" she asked with feigned innocence.

"Strangely enough, yes," he spoke quietly. "And I find it most troubling." He gave her a sinister scowl as he moved on.

The first day of classes was barely over and Snape was sitting in his office wondering if it was too early to start drinking when a knock at his door interrupted his dark thoughts.

Getting up, he stomped to the door to wrench it open and see Davindra standing at the threshold, smiling pleasantly.

"Hello, Professor," she nearly purred. "I was wondering if you had a moment."

Ever tall and willowy, her ash-black hair tucked into a haphazard coil, and her metal-green eyes flashing, Snape couldn't help but find an unearthly beauty about her that made him uncomfortable.

He glared back at her, but said nothing as he left the door open and returned to his desk.

"I'm surprised you're speaking to me," he said. "Why the change of heart after that histrionic exit you made from my fireplace this past summer?"

Davindra had closed the door and walked into the room. She began a slow pace of his shelves, reminding him of Madame Collins when she had something especially savory to reveal to him.

"Are you sorry I'm not still angry?" she asked.

"More confused and suspicious," he replied, sinking back into his chair.

She spun on the balls of her feet to face him, her face still shining with untold surprises.

"Well, for your information, I am still angry. You were very mean and hurtful. But after a few days I came to realize something about us."

Snape had begun digging in his desk for a bottle of anything to get him through her speech.

"And I don't suppose there is anything I can do to stop you from sharing it with me?" he uttered distractedly.

A faint chuckle left her as she sat herself on the tall work stool in the corner, hiking her skirt up to reveal pale knees over which she leaned to survey him.

"Every year we do the same thing. Have you noticed?" she began. "One of us gets angry at the other, and we spend weeks or even months avoiding each other, but eventually one of us breaks down and comes crawling back to the other with some excuse of why we have to spend time together."

Snape had found his bottle of elf-made wine and was pulling out the stopper when he replied harshly, "I've never crawled for anything in my life. The reason I have to keep reining you back in is because it's what your grandmother has paid me for."

Giving her an especially dark look, he searched about for a goblet or cup and, when finding none, drank directly from the bottle. The alcohol began to seep into his tight, coursing veins, relieving only a shred of the tension she inspired in him.

"I thought you said it wasn't about the payment," she said smoothly. "Loyalty, wasn't it? But you never said to who."

"Never is any loyalty or payment enough to deal with your insipid, insistent pestering," he snarled at her, feeling the wine already beginning to thicken his tongue and mind.

Again she laughed, a dismissive, knowing laugh. "Don't you see?" she insisted. "We're inevitable. We keep trying to push each other away, but we just end up back at the same spot."

"That sounds like more of your romantic, fantasy life getting mixed up with reality. I've told you there can be nothing between us."

"But for all you protest, you know it's the truth."

Snape would never allow her to see that her words were not unfamiliar to him. Ever since their encounter last year, he too had wondered how much fate and destiny had to do with their constant gravitation to each other. Usually he told himself it was just his own pathetic weakness that made him unable to resist her.

He sat the bottle of wine on his desk and stood. "This is a ridiculous conversation, Miss Collins. I told you what happened was just an unfortunate misjudgment on my part. Outside of that, you only have yourself to blame for the emotional outbreaks that make you so miserable."

"Are you a gambling man, Professor?" she asked brightly.

"What?" Snape looked at her, bemused.

She stepped down from the stool and walked to stand in front of him. She was nearly tall enough to look him in the eye.

"You and I never seem to go backwards, no matter how bad we may fight. In the end we just move ahead."

Snape still had no idea what she was talking about and had started to turn away with a grunt of annoyance when her question stopped him.

"How long do you think it will be?"

"How long what will be, Miss Collins?" he snapped with clenched teeth.

"Before you give in to how badly you want me again?"

There was a look of satisfied wonder on her face that he wished he could wipe away with one slap. His hand twitched to do so, but instead he stared back at her with menacing promise.

"I've told you, you hopelessly pathetic, obtuse child, that that will never happen again. It was a mistake the first time."

"So you've never given it a second thought?" she asked with wide-eyed interest. "Never fondly thought about any of the details, never fantasized about what it might be like again?"

Snape grabbed the bottle on his desk to keep from grabbing her throat. He then leaned in to her and snarled, "You weren't that good."

"Is that why you keep trying to drown yourself in wine?" she asked with a slight smile. "Besides, it was my first time! I told you I just needed a little tutoring."

"And I told you I'm not interested!" he shouted at her. "Now get out."

While he stomped back to his desk and flopped down into his chair, she sighed tiredly.

"Professor... Severus," she said in a quiet, honest tone. "I love you. You know it. We don't know what the future is going to bring. Can't we just stop playing this exhausting game? Can't you just be honest with me?"

Snape started shuffling through papers on his desk so he didn't have to look at her. "I am 'Professor' or 'sir' to you, Miss Collins, and I believe I told you to get out."

"You don't want me to make this difficult... Professor." Her voice was still calm, but it was laced with foreboding.

"Don't attempt to frighten me with any of your threats, for let me assure you, I can be a far scarier person than you," he sneered.

"That depends upon what one might actually find scary."

He looked up at her, giving his most crippling look of contempt. "Out Davindra, NOW. And don't come back."

She remained unfazed and only smiled, but she did turn to leave. "See?" she said with a soft sigh. "Here we go again."

The door closed softly behind her, and Snape let his head fall to the desk in an effort to quell the nausea and racing of his pulse.

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

It wasn't hard to bury himself in duties and tasks to keep his mind clear of Davindra and her threats. There was business with the Order and the Dark Lord, as well as Hogwarts issues of classes and activities and avoiding Umbridge.

Finally Quidditch was being played with regularity, and the Quidditch Cup was again up for grabs. Snape had a semi-friendly bet with McGonagall that involved the end of year cleaning of classrooms. He was determined to not lose. So he began attending Quidditch practices and assisting with the coaching, which McGonagall declared unfair since it was supposed to be a fully student-managed activity. Snape claimed it was simply moral support and advice and that she was within right to do the same for her house team. No doubt the Gryffindors could have used the help. They looked disorganized and pathetic, from all he had seen. If Slytherin simply played with planned strength, then the Transfiguration teacher would be the one scouring out the dungeon after term.

Snape kept a constant eye out for Davindra who, strangely enough, kept a respectful distance. In class she was polite in her participation and continued to perform faultlessly. Only occasionally, when everyone else was consumed with their work or engrossed in conversation over a meal, would she look at him with a hint of adroit seduction and top it off with a slight moistening of her lips or a leisurely toss of her hair. Snape would pretend he hadn't noticed, though he often had to admit the high, tight collar of his coat would suddenly feel suffocating. Mostly he was concerned that Umbridge didn't have her reptilian eyes on him when it happened. He was certain she would enjoy reporting back to the Ministry that one of Dumbledore's militia was consorting with a student in a lascivious manner.

Several weeks into the term, Snape was at his desk late, as was his custom most nights, when a pounding began at his door. He had just been about to retire so he hoped whoever it was wouldn't be long. An open door revealed Davindra standing there with a furious look on her face and her hand wrapped in a handkerchief.

"Miss Collins, I've told you not to come here anymore," he spoke calmly. "And it's near curfew."

"I just came from detention with that maniacal lizard, Umbridge," she raged, shoving past him to walk into his office.

"Detention?" Snape echoed with amused interest. "And what exactly earned you this 'traumatic' detention?"

Davindra removed the cloth from her hand, which Snape now saw was spotted with blood, and held it out to him, palm down. Taking the hand, he saw what looked like words carved into the back. Turning himself around he read, 'I will not argue' in jagged gashes that seeped fresh blood.

"She did this to you?" he asked

"Basically," Davindra said with incredulous disgust. "There's a special quill she makes you write lines with. Whatever you write ends up carved into the back of your hand. This was from over four hundred lines."

'Ingenious and evil. I'm impressed,' Snape thought to himself.

"And what did you do to incur such a wrath from Professor Umbridge?"

"You know she's not teaching us spells or counter-curses or jinxes or anything," Davindra began. "All we do is read the bloody stupid book and answer questions at the end of the chapter. A Hinkypunk could teach the class! I got sick of it the other day and made a comment she overheard and she asked me to repeat it, so I did." She sighed angrily and wrapped her hand in the handkerchief once more. "She's just so asinine! How in the world are we supposed to pass a N.E.W.T level exam when we never raise a wand in that class?"

Snape stood placidly watching her tirade with both interest and amusement, but also relief that someone else was at the receiving end of her temper for a change. Taking note that he wasn't reacting to the end of her story, Davindra stared back incredulously.

"Can't you do anything about this?" she asked, her voice rising.

Slowly Snape unfurled his crossed arms and looked down his sharp nose at her. "There is little I can do about another teacher's curriculum choice," he said in a serene voice. "What Professor Umbridge chooses to teach or not teach is none of my business. How much more detention do you have to do?" He turned and went to his cabinet of supplies.

"One more night."

Finding a bottle of murtlap essence, he returned to her. "Soak your hand in this; it will help with the healing and scaring."

Davindra took the bottle but still stared at him with disbelief. "Can't you do something about her? About this?" She waved to her wrapped hand.

"Although her approach is unusual and even a bit barbaric, there is nothing I can do about another teacher's method of discipline. You'll just have to tolerate it for one more night and consider it a valuable, albeit painful, lesson learned. I doubt you will cross Professor Umbridge again." He gave her a raised eyebrow to punctuate his words.

A deflated look of frustration and disappointment was deeply etched upon her face. Looking at the bottle in her hand, she proudly turned on her heels to leave, not sparing him another glance.

Snape reached out and caught her shoulder before she got far. He pulled her back against him and leaned close to speak softly into her ear.

"I caution you to be very careful from now on, Miss Collins. None of us are immune to Umbridge's whims of crucifixion. Maybe I can't help you, but I promise, this won't go unnoticed."

She turned her head slightly to look at him. Let it never be said that she wasn't a clever girl. Snape knew from the cast to her eyes that she understood his meaning. Her angry countenance softened, and she gave him a slight nod then exited his office. This time she did allow him a final lingering gaze.

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

The next day he was in Dumbledore's office with McGonagall pacing about as Snape recounted Davindra's visit to him the night before and the details of Umbridge's abuse.

McGonagall made a loud gasp of disgust. "She's sadistic! My stomach does flip-flops every time I see a group of students disappear into her classroom. I have visions of her jaw unhinging as she devours them whole."

"We knew she would be a thorn in our sides," the Headmaster said calmly.

"Going through our mail is one thing, but inflicting physical harm to students for punishment?" McGonagall continued to rage as she approached the desk behind which Dumbledore sat, his fingertips touched together in front of his nose. "Harry has done at least two weeks of detention with her. God knows what she's done to him under the guise of Ministry approved torture."

"That is disturbing," Dumbledore spoke. "And you have reminded him that he must tread carefully with Umbridge?"

Another sound of disgust escaped the witch. "Yes, but without going into too much detail I'm afraid he might not understand the extent of danger he places himself in."

"He has always been thick-headed when it came to rules," Snape couldn't help but comment. "It isn't surprising that he has gotten himself into hot water with her."

Both pairs of eyes turned to him. "Of course Harry is a target for her," Dumbledore said. "Fudge's cronies at the Ministry couldn't remove him from Hogwarts, so it is her job, one of many I'm afraid, to break him. I'm sure she's easily finding his buttons and antagonizing him just to set an example."

"Can't you talk to him, Albus?" McGonagall said desperately. "You're the only one he'd listen to."

The old wizard sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Minerva."

"I think he's feeling abandoned," she said sadly.

"I don't disagree," he replied in equal somber. "But it's for his best interest that he and I don't associate as much for the time being."

Snape and McGonagall stared at the Headmaster for a moment before exchanging their own looks.

"There's nothing we can do to protect any of our students?" she asked with faded hope.

"Minerva, there is little we can do to protect ourselves at this point," Dumbledore replied.

"Well, I refuse to let that reptile of a woman bully me!" McGonagall sputtered, drawing herself up defiantly.

"Be careful," Dumbledore said with a finger pointed for emphasis. "One word from her and even you would be gone."

"I'd like to see her try."

Snape rarely saw the Transfiguration teacher this impassioned. He had to admit he felt more than a bit impressed with her courage.

She then looked at Snape as if expecting him to echo her sentiment. Snape looked back and pursed his lips in consideration of speaking out.

"I'll do whatever the Headmaster asks of me," he replied.

"My orders stand," Dumbledore said. "Watch out for yourself, watch out for the students, and don't give Umbridge anything that she can take back to the Ministry."

McGonagall again looked to Snape. "Will Davindra be alright?"

"She'll be fine," he replied. "Her pride was perhaps more wounded than her flesh. She isn't used to such reprimands."

"If Demelza Collins finds out about this, there will be hell to pay," McGonagall said truthfully.

Dumbledore nodded. "Do you think she knows yet?" he directed toward Snape.

"If she did, either you or I would have had a Howler at our doorstep first thing this morning. I will say that Miss Collins does not tend to cower at her grandmother's skirts. She prefers to fight her own battles, which in itself has proven to be a point of contention between them."

"I didn't know you knew her so well," the witch at his side commented.

"Madame Collins has requested Severus take such an interest," Dumbledore replied, saving Snape from creating his own lie. "If you can find a delicate way to suggest that she not recount this episode to her grandmother, it would be most beneficial," he continued to Snape.

Snape returned a nod and commitment to the effort. The two teachers left the Headmaster's office and walked down the hall together.

Suddenly McGonagall startled him with the exclamation, "We'd all better off if someone would just strangle that woman with one of her own damn sweaters!"

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

A discrete word with Davindra was not hard to manage. She seemed to somehow stay in the peripheral of his presence without ever looking as though she were trying. A crook of his finger and mumbled whisper to meet him in his office after class was all that was needed to guarantee her compliance

Not a moment later, she appeared at his door, eager for whatever he might have to impart to her. Standing in front of his desk, she twirled her wand between her fingers as small blue sparks emitted from its tip.

Finally, Snape took the wand from her hand. "Stop before you inadvertently conjure a demon onto my desk," he snapped. "Now, Miss Collins, about what we spoke of the other night. I'm afraid I must ask a very important favor of you."

She cocked her head and smiled mischievously. "A favor, Professor?"

"It is of dire importance that you not tell your grandmother of last night's incident. Tell no one, in fact."

"And why not?"

"Because we both know that Madame Collins would be quite upset by it and probably attempt to take matters into her own hands."

"And would that be bad? Especially since you've already said you would do nothing," Davindra stated.

Snape bit his lip to keep from screaming in his own frustration. "I said I could not do anything. That doesn't mean that I didn't wish to."

"That's a fine hair you're splitting." The roguish smile remained. "Suppose you tell me why my keeping quiet is so important."

"I'm afraid I am unable to divulge exactly why, Miss Collins. I simply need you to trust me when I say it is of a life or death matter."

Davindra looked at him with fierce contemplation, her frost-shaded eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "And what do you have to barter for this pledge of my silence?"

Dread coursed coldly though Snape's body. He should have expected no less from the conniving little witch.

"I am not in a position to offer anything of any real interest to you," he said through a jaw tightened with displeasure.

"Then how can I be expected to not mention this horrible incident to my most beloved relative?" Davindra said with a dramatic lilt in her voice and a flutter of her eyelashes.

"You tell your grandmother as little as possible about your life as it is," Snape said darkly, glaring into her amused face. "I seriously doubt you would be tempted to now if it weren't just to find pleasure in spiting me."

"Then why ask?"

"It is imperative that I get your word on this, Miss Collins."

"What is my word worth?"

They stood at an impasse, which Snape knew he could not cross alone. There was no way of forcing his will outside of Obliviating the entire episode from her head, which could prove more damaging to the cause if Umbridge found out. Dumbledore should not have asked him this. If only the old wizard would have taken on the task himself, there would have been no question of her obedience.

Snape sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to stare at her with bleak disfavor. "What do you want? And keep in mind what I have already said I cannot and will not give."

Her face showed not one nerve of tension or worry. A look of scheming pleasure soon spread over her. She stepped closer to speak softly.

"Ten minutes." Her eyes burned into him like acid. "Ten minutes just to touch you. Nothing lewd," she assured, "nowhere intimate. Just ten minutes to let my fingers comprehend what my eyes have memorized for all these years."

If she had asked for the moon on a gossamer thread, he could have consented more easily. She stood barely a breath's width from him, her eyes not allowing him to pull away, silently demanding he acquiesce to her proposition.

The words, 'no, absolutely not,' were in his head and on his tongue. But when he spoke, he heard, "FIVE minutes, one hand only, from an arm's length away, nothing more than your finger tips, and nowhere even remotely intimate."

Dumbledore had no idea what Snape risked with his loyalty. All around him were deadly traps set to ensnare him.

A smile of triumphant delight began at the corners of Davindra's lips and moved over her whole face. Snape conjured an hourglass that sat on his desk, five minutes worth of sand hanging in the top chamber, ready to fall at his command. He then held out his arms in a gesture of agreement that payment should begin.

"Alright?" he snapped impatiently.

Quickly she looked about the room, as if to try to decide how to set the stage as best to enjoy her award.

"Uhmm, here." She pulled Snape so he stood directly in front of his desk. Her hands on his shoulders pushed him to sit on the edge, bringing him just under her own eye-level.

He sighed with exasperation. "Will you get on with this embarrassing demonstration. I do have other things to do."

Davindra came to stand between his open legs. It was entirely too close to allow Snape to even breathe comfortably. With firm hands he moved her to just outside of his knees. A final flick of his wand sent the hourglass in motion.

For several seconds she didn't move, but simply stared into his face. Just as he was about to comment that her time was running out, the slow rise of her hand caught his eye. With glacial speed, her fingers came to rest lightly against his temple. There was a soothing coldness to her touch that seemed to both relax and stimulate him. With equal pace, her hand trailed back to rake into his hair. A shivery sensation followed along behind it.

Her eyes were no longer on his but lingering after the path of her touch. Perhaps it would be more bearable if he closed his own eyes, Snape thought. But in doing so, he found that the sensation of her fingers only intensified to consume all of his senses. The sound of her touch and the smell of her body mingled with the old memories of her taste and sight of her flesh. He allowed himself to fall into the fantasy. It was only five minutes, after all.

Her caress continued from his hair down to his neck, then to the line of his jaw. The raspy sound of her fingers over the late day growth of his beard was the loudest thing in the room. Up his sallow cheek to trace the arch of his eyebrow, across the closed lid of his eye, down his crooked nose, and softly brushing against his lips, she moved. Snape found himself exhaling a breath he hadn't realized that he was holding.

The gentle movement continued on down his chin and neck to his heavy, black coat. Her fingers stopped at the buttons, and she touched them as sensuously as she had his face. He felt the top button near his throat release, and he opened his eyes to remind her of the rules of this enterprise.

Her face held no lascivious intentions or traces of wicked deception. She was awash with enraptured wonder and longing, as though she were setting her eyes upon the sun for the first time. Never had he known anyone to look upon him in such a way. Never had he known a touch so gentle or desperate.

At the high collar of his shirt her fingers tugged to get access to the skin beneath. He stilled his own restless hands by gripping the edge of the desk to keep from reaching up and exposing himself to her to quell the longing he now felt for her touch.

A light flutter of her hand against the pale flesh of his neck was as intense as any punch to the gut he could ever experience. And his breath disappeared from his body just as forcefully. With maddening slowness, her fingers explored his Adam's apple and the hollow at the base of his throat. The following button was a hindrance of which she made quick work of and then continued on the journey of his skin. His collarbone was the next fortunate piece of flesh to savor her exploration. The few sparse hairs upon his chest prickled when she grazed against them.

The next button lay ahead but with a swift, nimble flourish of fingers, it too gave way. Her hand pushed inside his shirt to rest, palm down, against his thundering heart. Davindra herself had moved closer, her breath shallow gasps rushing past her parted lips. Snape watched her from a state of unexplained paralysis, feeling drunk in his desire and helpless in the tide of yearning her artful play had summoned.

A 'pop' from behind them startled them both from their mesmerizing dream. Snape realized that the hourglass had signaled the end of their session.

"Time's up," he uttered in a thick voice.

"If you say so," she murmured, her eyes forced back to focus on the reality around them.

Davindra backed away from him with a look of grave mourning, as though her last meal had been pulled from her grasp.

Snape also had to demand his mind shake the spell he had been under and tend to the business at hand before he could allow himself to collapse into a quivering pile of caged, salacious, carnal urges. He buttoned the coat that lay open with Davindra's eyes still hungrily raking over his skin.

"Do I now have your word that you will speak to no one of Professor Umbridge's activities, no matter how abominable they may appear?"

She nodded mutely.

"If anything happens again, come to me, Davindra." He stood and straightened himself, keeping his expression deceptively blank. "Tell only me everything you see or hear."

Again she nodded but seemed still unable to speak.

"You may go."

She turned. Snape remembered her wand and called to her, returning it to her outstretched hand.

They parted after sharing an intense, burning look that summarized all that had passed between them.

When she was gone Snape sank back down on the desk to keep from falling to his knees. His fingers pulled at the buttons at his throat to again expose his neck and upper chest so that he could breathe and so that he could also run his fingers against the last part of him to savor her touch.

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

Thankfully, there was no time for wallowing in the misery of ardent, ravenous cravings that seemed to tear at his soul when he thought of those wanton and damnable five minutes. He had to do something to reinstate the Slytherin Quidditch team. Again Dumbledore swore off his involvement unless absolutely necessary and insisted Snape first take a stab at persuading the new "High Inquisitor." If he genuinely had no success, then the matter could be passed on to the Headmaster.

Snape stood in Dolores Umbridge's office, surveying the nauseating mixture of fussy doilies and kittens with medieval stone walls and rows of ancient text books. For a moment he was actually missing the sight of Remus Lupin in that office.

"Now, Professor Snape," the lumpy woman across the desk said in a frighteningly pleasant way, "what is it that you wanted to see me about?"

"I have come to ask that the Slytherin Quidditch team be reinstated and allowed to continue in its practice sessions and competitive games." He spoke clearly, without embellishment or groveling.

"Well, this will have to be considered very carefully." Her simpering smile never reached her flat, gelatinous eyes. "Student groups can be very disruptive, and we don't want too much time devoted to un-academic fraternization."

Snape managed to return a smile, though one more laced with chilling revulsion than mutual agreement. "The Slytherin Quidditch team has been a cornerstone of student camaraderie for more years than anyone can remember," he began smoothly. "It creates a healthy sense of sportsmanship and team cooperation that proves invaluable to these students when they leave Hogwarts and pursue careers in the outside world."

The woman still sat with her frozen smile, not saying anything for a moment though she seemed to be regarding Snape with serious thought.

"You're a bachelor, are you not, Professor Snape?" she asked tilting her head to the side.

'Oh, holy mother of Merlin, no!' Snape thought, though he also kept his expression unchanged and genial.

"Why, yes, Madam, I am."

"I have a lovely niece. She works as an apothecary at Mercurial Mercantile, perhaps you've seen her?" Umbridge's smile remained, though her eyes did seem to trail up and down him in appraisal.

The few that he remembered dealing with at the Diagon Alley shop were usually half-witted and more than likely to cheat you on any deal. But if memory served, there were no toad-like women lurking behind the counters.

"Perhaps, but it has been some time since I've been there."

"I think you two would get along famously," she announced. "Shall I have her owl you?"

Snape swallowed back his repugnance and pride. "That would be lovely," he uttered through clenched teeth. "Now, about the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

"Oh, yes, well, I will need to think on it some more, but I believe we can work something out." The woman smiled again. "We wouldn't want our students deprived of valuable lessons in fair play and teamwork. I'll have an answer for you by the end of the day."

Snape bowed slightly and left the hellish office with a swish of his robes. He was beginning to feel like piece of meat dangled before every person who wanted something from him. If each kept taking a bite out of him, soon there would be nothing left.

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

At least there was the match of Slytherin versus Gryffindor to look forward to after Dumbledore finally pressed Umbridge hard enough to reinstate all four teams.

McGonagall didn't waste time reminding Snape about their bet. But the Slytherin team had had more practices and had better players than the Gryffindor team, so he felt unworried about the outcome.

The day of the match, Snape met with the team beforehand to again reiterate the importance of this match and that they had every possibility to win it if they simply focused on Gryffindor's weakness. Luckily for them the entire team seemed to be composed of weaknesses.

On the walk down to the Quidditch field, a voice sounded behind him.

"Looks like a good day for a Quidditch match, doesn't it, Professor?"

Snape paused and Davindra stepped around him to take up step beside him. Their relationship since the bribery incident had been quietly amicable. Blissful as it was to not have her constantly at his door or always at his heels, he now had to contend with the knowledge that every look and verbal exchange they did share was tinged with the memory of those five minutes of pleasure they had experienced. Snape knew that he fought the persistent images almost daily, whether alone or with anyone else. He could easily imagine her doing the same, but instead, lingering over each sensuous second in her head and begging the images to stay as unchanging as a photograph.

Today Davindra smiled as mischievously as always. Bundled in a warm jacket, her hands shoved into the pockets for warmth, she looked at ease striding next to his tall, dark form. Snape found himself glancing about to see if anyone had taken notice of the two of them together. But most were hurrying on to the game site, not caring about with whom he appeared to associate.

"Feeling pretty cocky about this victory, are you?" she said with mock seriousness. "Not even the lion's head is going to intimidate you?"

She pointed to a Ravenclaw student who was wearing an enormous lion's head on top of her own that roared periodically.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Hardly. And sadly, I think that is about the most ferocious thing Gryffindor has to its honor right now."

They took several more steps in silence.

"So tell me, Miss Collins," Snape said smoothly, "who will you be cheering for today?"

"Oh, I will have to remain an unbiased bystander, for my loyalty must remain with Ravenclaw," she pronounced dramatically, though her eyes sparkled with mirth.

He stopped to look at her, a smirk creeping over his own lips. "Well, today I think you should allow your neutrality to slip." He took the green and black rosette pinned to his cloak and threaded it through the open buttonhole on Davindra's jacket.

Looking into her eyes and speaking softly, he said, "I always suspected that under that breast beat the heart of a Slytherin." His smirk spread to a thin smile.

Davindra adjusted the rosette to sit more firmly in place and looked back into his dark, shining eyes. "And you would know."

He turned and moved on at a quickened pace to sit with the faculty while Davindra found her group of friends.

The game was enjoyable, at first. It could have even been a landmark game, in fact, with Slytherin up by nearly fifty points. But Malfoy was bested by the only thing keeping the Gryffindor Quidditch team from being a complete and total failure. The Boy Who Unfortunately Lived. By bare millimeters, the Snitch escaped the Slytherin Seeker's grasp and was captured by Potter.

Snape could have chewed a broom handle in two by the time the teams had made it back down to the field. And to top it off, he had to help break up a brawl that had broken out amongst the two teams. Luckily Umbridge stepped in and offered her less than appreciated help, and by the end of the day half of the Gryffindor team, including Potter, had been banned from Quidditch play indefinitely as punishment for their abhorrent violent tendencies. She had announced it to Snape with her usual simpering smile and included a knowing wink and a slight tap to his arm that told him she was still holding hope that he might one day become a nephew-in-law.

Discomfort aside, the news of Potter's banishment was a small consolation for the gigantic embarrassment of losing to Gryffindor and Professor McGonagall. Though Montague, the captain, and the rest of the team got plenty an earful of Snape's wrath, he saved the worst for Draco Malfoy.

"Do you want to tell me why you let such an easy victory just slip through your fingers, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape sneered at the boy from across the desk of his office, where he had asked for a private word.

Draco was still in his Quidditch robes, though he wore a far greater amount of shame and anger.

"I did the best I could!" he shouted in return. "I had it! It was right there at my fingertips. And suddenly Potter has it. I don't know how he did it. He probably cheated."

"No, he just out performed you, like he has done every other time," Snape said in cold reply.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not the Boy-Bloody-Fucking-Wonder, alright?" Draco shouted.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy," he sneered. "You are better in many ways. You have good breeding and blood, where he has a pathological idol complex."

"Fat lot of good it does me on that broomstick."

Draco paced the floor in front of Snape's desk in impudent rage while Snape sat drumming his fingers on the chair arm as he thought of a punishment harsh and yet fair enough.

"Consider yourself on probation, Malfoy," he finally announced. "You will practice day and night if need be to fine tune your Seeker skills. If you have not vastly improved by the next match, you will be replaced."

The boy eyed him in disbelief. "You can't do that! You're not the team captain."

"No, but Montague will do what I tell him to."

Draco narrowed his eyes to give Snape a vicious glare. "If my father finds out, he will be furious. He won't let you get away with this."

Snape smiled tightly. "Trust me when I say your father is far too busy dealing with other issues to take the time to fight your battles for you. Besides, if you insist upon whining to him about unfair treatment, then I may have to divulge a little incident I stumbled upon in an empty classroom last May."

The two sized each other up for a few silent moments.

"The world's becoming a very harsh place, Draco," Snape finally spoke. "It's best you get used to the idea few battles are fairly fought."

Draco continued to give him a snarling glare. "And I guess there's no counting on loyalty either?"

"If loyalty harbors weakness, then it fails to serve the greater good," he replied calmly. "I do you no favors by allowing you to squander Slytherin's chances for the Quidditch Cup. In the end, you will be a stronger player and more faithful team member."

Perhaps reason had gotten to the boy because his scowl eased and his stance relaxed.

"Go commiserate with your team mates," Snape finally said with a wave of his hand. "And I'm sure Miss Parkinson is waiting to soothe all your wounds."

Draco started to leave and then stopped, turned back, then began to leave again. But at the door he paused.

"Is there something else, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked irritably

"About what happened in May," he began with some trepidation. "Did she get into a lot of trouble? We don't talk anymore since... I guess I don't blame her. But I just wondered if she was alright from it."

Snape twitched his eyebrow at the subject but then gave Draco a firm look. "Miss Collins was disciplined appropriately."

"I didn't see her go directly back to the Ravenclaw Tower, I mean I sort of kept watch," the boy pushed on.

"I don't know what you are getting at, but I assure you, she was dealt with. Now I believe we are through, Mr. Malfoy." Snape let his words end bluntly and with a piercing stare that finally made Draco leave his office.

For a moment Snape sat at his desk, reveling in the silence and thinking of the punishment he had also suffered from the consequences of that fateful night.

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

Ah, to be the High Inquisitor and announce a grand, sweeping rule every time something happened that you didn't like, Snape imagined. But with a new "Educational Decree" appearing every few days, it was hard to keep track of them all. Snape envisioned Umbridge lying in bed at night, with a bright pink afghan pulled up to her nonexistent chin, never sleeping, but endlessly creating new ways to restrict and suppress everyone at Hogwarts. It might not be so bad if these things only affected the students. However, it was evident that every decree laid out was put in place to persecute both faculty and students alike.

By the end of the year, everyone was becoming like caged animals, with too little freedom and too many demands. Many were agitated and resentful and small squabbles broke out amongst students and even some of the staff.

Snape knew his Christmas break would not be one of relaxation. The Dark Lord didn't celebrate Christmas, so then, neither would the Order. Since he had never cared for holiday celebrations, he supposed he would miss nothing except the grateful quiet of Hogwarts when few inhabited it.

As he busied himself about his office, checking to see what supplies would need to be restocked for the new year ahead, Davindra came to his door. She hadn't come to his office since the intimate buy-off, though they had exchanged some very heavy looks and uttered several comments laced with double meaning to each other.

"What do you want, Miss Collins?" he asked in his usual brisk tone.

"Only a word or two," she replied closing the door behind her and strolling comfortably about the room as he continued his tasks.

"Professor Umbridge hasn't been doing anything more to traumatize that alabaster flesh, then?" he asked with a libidinous hint.

Davindra took a stool nearest the storage cupboard from which he worked and gave him an equally flirtatious smirk.

"I've behaved myself and so has she. But I still loathe the fat, old cow. I'd like to rip that stupid bow from her head and shove--"

"Now, now, Miss Collins, I cannot tolerate such disrespect spoken about a fellow teacher in my presence." But he gave her a slight smile with his words.

Davindra smiled back. "Well, actually what I've come for is to ask if you've heard from my grandmother lately."

"Mercifully, no," Snape replied finishing his list and closing the cupboard. "Not since she came to my home to interrogate me about your foul mood and disappearing act over the summer."

Her thin, dark brows furrowed together. "So she didn't make arrangements for my tutoring, even?"

"Since you have not been ceaselessly haunting the corner of my office, we can assume not."

"But isn't that odd?" she asked.

It actually was, and Snape had thought it over many times. For six years Demelza Collins had somehow managed to get him to agree to keep watch over her granddaughter, but this year she had remained unnervingly silent.

"Perhaps not so odd," he replied. "You did quite well on your O.W.L.s. Eight, I hear? It could have been nine. So it could be that she sees no further need."

"But I have N.E.W.T.s next year," Davindra offered. "And every year I've been at Hogwarts she's written to me nearly every week. But I can count on one hand the number of letters I've gotten from her so far this year. When I've asked what she's been doing, she ignores the question. Mother and Granny Lilly don't have anything to say about it either."

"Well, then, it's a mystery," Snape said with a tired boredom.

"No, it's more than that. Even this past summer she was acting strange," she continued to murmur, still pondering the situation.

After a few quiet moments where Snape didn't speak and continued looking through lists of things that either needed doing or needed restocking, Davindra finally moved from her chair to stand close to him.

"So you're staying here for the holidays?"

"Yes," he replied absently.

"Would you like for me to stay?"

He looked up from the papers in his hands. "Why would I want that?"

She shrugged, but continued to give him a coquettish smile.

"I'm sure your family would appreciate your company much more than I. Besides I keep myself quite busy during the bit of peace and quiet I get with all of you pesky ankle-biters gone," he replied tersely, going back to his lists.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"No."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you like, Miss Collins," he said with a weary sigh of annoyance.

He felt her move closer against him. Her breath rustled against the hair that hung against his face. Standing immobile, trying to ignore her was becoming more difficult. When she reached her fingers up to stroke the strands of lank hair from his face, Snape grabbed her wrist.

"When are you going to stop this absurd, futile game?" he asked sharply, looking into her face.

"When are you?" she replied with an arch of her eyebrow.

Snape dropped her wrist and strode to the other side of the desk.

"I grow tired of telling you over and over that there can be nothing between us," he growled.

"Oh, and I'm tired of hearing it!" she said with a small laugh. "Especially since you can't convince me it's true."

She walked to join him on the same side of the desk. "When I touched you," she began softly, staring deeply into his eyes, "did you not feel that suffocating ache for it to never end?"

"Don't push me," he said darkly. "I don't think you would want me to lose my composure again."

"Actually, I think it's what we both want." There was a lusty invitation to her words that Snape had a growing desire to act upon.

But he stared back, not letting the intensity of her gaze or her words dismantle him.

"Davindra, I've won't lie about the fact that I find you attractive and that you do affect me. I'm a normal man, with normal desires. But let's not pretend that what you are really looking for is something that I can give you. For I don't even have the ability to produce that kind of sentiment. You are confusing time spent in my bed with love and affection. Yes, I felt that ache. I feel it every time you come near me. But that doesn't mean that more will ever arise from it. I'm afraid you will just wind up bitterly disappointed."

Only slightly did her look harden into one of self preservation. "I suppose the fact that I love you doesn't even count for anything?"

Snape turned away from those demanding, inscrutable eyes. "It doesn't matter that you love me," he replied blandly.

"You know I can only hear you completely disregard my emotions so many times." A sad amusement settled over her.

Snape sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of some way out of claustrophobic box she had cornered him into.

"I am not trying to hurt you, Davindra," he said from behind closed eyes. "Believe it or not, I'm actually trying to protect you." He looked at her once again. "You would experience a far worse pain if I allowed you to become involved with me than you ever will suffering your love from afar."

"You have no idea what I suffer," she said softly with a glassy redness beginning to tinge her eyes.

"I know more than you think."

Slowly Davindra reached her arms around his waist and moved closer. Though he didn't allow any other part of his body to touch her, Snape did let his forehead come down to rest against hers. For a few silent moments they remained this way, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of each other's breaths. Every second Snape reminded himself that he mustn't touch her, or there might not be any going back.

Eventually he pulled away, extracting her arms from his body.

"Go home to the people who love you, Davindra," he said quietly. "I will see you when you return."

Pulling in a strong breath to clear her expanding emotions, she nodded, and then gave him a weak smile. She left the office taking with her the only bit of heat or light that ever gave him any true warmth.

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

Special Thanks to:

My betas, once again. Logical Quirk and Southern Witch, who keep me honest and make me look good.

Doc, for his insight on words and phrases (and good nature over giving up so much computer time).

Serena, who inspired my favorite scene from this chapter with her incredibly lush and dense ficlette, "Buttons." http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3125400/1/

And Sarah McLachlan, who always spoke for me when I didn't have words, but who now inspires many of my phrases and chapter titles!