Year Seven: A Misery More Beautiful

what ravages of spirit

conjured this temptuous rage

created you a monster

broken by the rules of love

and fate has lead you through it

you do what you have to do

...

every moment marked

with apparitions of your soul

I'm ever swiftly moving

trying to escape this desire

the yearning to be near you

I do what I have to do

...

but I have the sense to recognize

that I don't know how to let you go

Do What You Have to Do -- Sarah McLachlan

~*~*~*~

'No, I won't do it. I won't do it. I won't do it. No, no, no, no, I won't do it.'

"I won't do it." Snape sat across from Dumbledore, his wand lying limply in his hands. The old wizard cradled a withered, black claw that used to be his left hand.

"I don't see any other way, Severus," Dumbledore said with a pained, weak smile.

"You're essentially asking me to sign my own death warrant." Snape's black eyes flashed viciously, and he stood to stride across the damp basement that served as his workshop at Spinner's End. He began a hurried recapping and re-shelving of bottles and boxes that had been strewn from one end of the long work table to the other in their vain attempts to save the now useless appendage at the Headmaster's arm.

"You may as well just hand me over to Potter and the Order afterward, for my life will have no value from that point on." Snape's voice almost shook with the reality of the request just made to him. He noticed his hands trembled as well, and the jars clinked together as he handled them.

"I'll make sure that you are protected." The old wizard tried to sound soothing, though his own voice was shaky and feeble.

Snape turned furiously to face the man. "I. Won't. DO IT!" he yelled.

Dumbledore sighed piteously. "It's going to be done, if not by you, then by someone. It needs to be done. I would rather leave it in the hands of someone I trust implicitly than cast it to fate."

With a visibly shaking hand, Snape reached up to wipe the sweat and spittle from his upper lip as he considered the wizard's words.

"Voldemort has ordered my death," Dumbledore continued. "There is a small army of dark wizards positively drooling with anticipation for the honor of being the one to cast the curse. And I, foolishly enough, have managed to fatally poison myself." He looked down at the charred hand in his lap.

"I told you, I don't know for certain..." Snape attempted to break in.

"I know," Dumbledore said more strongly. "I can feel it this time. It was stupid of me to go off searching for the Horcrux alone and think that I alone could destroy it."

"But you did destroy it," Snape reminded him.

Dumbledore nodded. "And at such a cost. I may not live long enough to find the next one."

"Sir, if you just give me more time, I'm sure I can find something to stop the effects of the curse, maybe even reverse it." There was desperation in his voice that Snape hated the sound of.

"If I were younger and we had unlimited time, maybe," the old wizard said. "But we have neither. No, Severus, I would rather that you put your energies elsewhere. And unfortunately I still have many things to do before I can go."

He began a slow rise from the chair he occupied. Bracing his good hand on the chair arm, it seemed as though the man's legs might not comply. Snape hurried over to assist.

"If the challenge is yours, Severus, it allows us much more power than Voldemort realizes. When and how will be very crucial."

"Do you think the Dark Lord would allow anyone that kind of control?" Snape asked, anxiety and anger creeping back into his voice. "Whomever he assigns this task will be at his mercy. If it is not fulfilled to his specifications, then they too will suffer the same fate as you, if not worse."

Dumbledore turned to look at Snape's scowling, hard face. He again lapsed into a calm smile and rested his good hand on Snape's arm.

"I know you always thought that James Potter and Sirius Black were my favorites," he began. "And I won't deny that they were special in my heart. But I had to worry about them and never felt sure they would find their way out of their own trouble. I never gave you the same attention, Severus, because you were always stronger and more clever and resilient than any of them. My love for you was always based in respect and admiration for all that you overcame and for the fact that you never needed me until that one time."

Snape felt uncomfortable and embarrassed hearing these words from the Headmaster, even though they were the things he had needed to be reassured of since he was a child. He found himself unable to keep the stare between them unbroken.

"This isn't something I could have ever asked of James, or Sirius, or even Harry. This is something that I could only trust to you."

It felt as though Snape's voice had left him and what came from his mouth wasn't discernable as his own when he choked out another weak protest. "Don't make me, sir."

"It will be the last thing I ever ask of you, and then you will be free." The man reached up and clasped his hand to Snape's pale cheek.

"I'll never live to see freedom," he replied solemnly.

"Then let freedom be my last promise to you." Dumbledore removed his hand and began to move away toward the stairs. "I'm very tired, Severus, as I'm sure are you. I believe a good rest is in order for us both. The new year is hardly a few weeks away, and I don't even have a new..." He stopped and turned to look at Snape.

Suddenly an ominous realization came over Snape, and he felt himself unconsciously backing away from Dumbledore.

"How about taking a crack at Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?" the old wizard asked with as much informality as if he were inquiring if Snape wanted milk with his tea.

In all the years past, Snape would have lunged at the phrase and nearly fallen over himself in gratitude to accept the offer. Now, he cowered from the words still hanging in question before him.

"I think it's time. And I can think of no one else for the job, but I can think of someone I might be able to persuade to take on Potions," Dumbledore continued.

Snape's first thought was of Madame Collins, and he almost protested when the Headmaster answered with, "Slughorn."

Mutely, Snape nodded. It was obvious that he was being placed on the fast track out of Hogwarts and free society. He might as well go out with one meager consolation.

"Consider it a small token of my gratitude," Dumbledore said as he began a slow climb of the stairs.

"Isn't it more fitting to call it what it actually is? Another nail for my coffin." Snape's words came out bitter and sharp.

The man on the stairs stopped and turned. "I'll keep my promise, if you keep yours."

"Haven't I always?"

"I wouldn't be here if you hadn't." Another fair smile touched the old man's lips before he continued his journey to the main floor and out of the house.

Snape stayed where he was for several moments before he gave in to the feeling of complete physical and mental exhaustion and sat in the chair that Dumbledore had relinquished. A tickling sensation brushed his cheek, and when Snape reached to wipe it away, he found a salty dampness on his fingers.

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

Hearing that Draco Malfoy was now the intended assassin of Dumbledore would almost have been a relief if Snape hadn't felt so piteously sorry for the boy. After learning of his father's imprisonment after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic, young Malfoy had raged and screamed that he would take the place of his fallen father amongst the Death Eaters in order to avenge him and exact punishment upon Harry Potter. Snape had witnessed the initiation with a twist of dread in his gut. The boy had a look of sickened shock on his face until the branding of the Mark on his arm contorted his features in pain. Afterward, Draco had exchanged a look of resigned fear with his mother as he accepted others' congratulations.

He could only imagine what the look must have been on the boy's face when he was informed that his first duty as a Death Eater would be to bring down the most powerful wizard in the world. It was almost a joke amongst the rank and file. They would have even laughed if it hadn't been so tragic in its design. The boy was a pawn to be sacrificed in order to punish Lucius Malfoy for his failings at the Ministry. When Snape was told it was his job to make sure the boy succeeded, he was sure it meant that the job would fall to him when Draco failed. It looked as though there was no escaping Dumbledore's last wishes after all.

Narcissa Malfoy at his feet, begging for his pledge to protect her son at any cost was a most interesting turn of events. Snape wished that Lucius could see the desperation in his wife's eyes. And, what was that? Could it be a slight hope that Snape would demand payment in flesh for his services? A wicked little fantasy involving the gratitude of both the proud sisters of the most noble house of Black crept into his mind as he heard Narcissa's pleas and felt Bellatrix's glare of contempt and envy.

His Vow completed, Snape felt no less condemned than before. But sharing the burden seemed to make him feel less lonely. However, it was news Dumbledore found quite unsettling. He ordered Snape to spare Draco the obligation of becoming a murderer at the tender age of seventeen. The old wizard said that every effort must be made to ensure that Draco would fail in his duty and that the charge would fall to Snape. Though he did agree with Dumbledore that the young man's pride was misplaced and leading to a life of horrible misfortune, Snape hardly wished to be sacrificed in his place. Once again, he was alone in his miserable battle of survival, doomed to fail and become a victim of his own outstanding debts.

However, Draco was not interested in Snape's help. When Snape had attempted to speak with him about his plans and offer assurance and suggestions, the young man had turned cold, hard eyes to him and announced that he could do it all himself. He even had the audacity to accuse Snape of wanting the take the glory from him to remain in the Dark Lord's favor. Being all too aware of the stubborn resolve of a young ego, Snape didn't press him. Draco was following the Dark One's plan completely unaware.

Back at Hogwarts Snape prepared for the new year with dread. He had tossed Wormtail from his house and locked the door behind them both, claiming he cared not where the rat went or what the Dark Lord said. Snape would not leave anyone unsupervised in his home during his absence. Wormtail muttered something about loyalty and abuse, then morphed into his honest rodent form to skittered away for refuse bins unknown.

At first Snape stood in his office trying to figure out where to start when he remembered he was teaching a whole different course this year. The idea of moving his entire office and living chambers to the one connected to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was too daunting to even imagine. Dumbledore allowed him to stay in familiar surroundings and placed Slughorn elsewhere.

Seeing the corpulent old Potions wizard again was curious. Snape had never been a favorite student of Slughorn's though he had out-performed most anyone in his class. It was his lack of connections, famous family, or natural charm that left him out of the nauseating little gatherings referred to as the Slug Club. Even now, Slughorn seemed hardly impressed with the man who had held his former position for fifteen years. They exchanged a few formal words before the round codger waddled off to firmly plant his nose up Dumbledore's ass.

Escorting a very late Hero Potter into the school and deducting house points before the feast even began helped improve Snape's mood. The boy's loathing of him had only intensified after Sirius Black's death, and Snape didn't find it surprising nor disturbing in the least to have never made friends with "The Chosen One." He actually anticipated another year of battles and detentions ahead. If Snape had remained in Potions, Potter wouldn't be an issue because he didn't make the O.W.L. required for the upper level study. But he had managed an O in his Defense Against the Dark Arts final and would probably assume himself to be the star pupil. A happy sneer spread over Snape's face when he thought of the shock Potter would suffer when he realized it would be him teaching the class this year.

The announcement of his reassignment as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was met with very mixed reviews. The Slytherins cheered, and Harry Potter pitched a predictable fit right on the spot. Snape didn't know whether to laugh or order detention. Over at the Ravenclaw table, a tall, slender, black-haired beauty sat with her mouth open in shock. The horrified look didn't leave her face all night.

A pounding on his office door not long before curfew came as no surprise. He opened the door and gave Davindra a look of bored annoyance. Her alarmed expression had now hardened into anger.

"How could you do this?" she asked incredulously as she stomped passed him into the office.

Snape remained cool as he closed the door and went back to the books he was still poring over for the next week's lesson plan.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Miss Collins," he said with total disinterest.

She stood wide-eyed and rigid. "Defense Against the Dark Arts? You're a Potions master! You can't change now." Her words were desperate and heated. "This is my last year. And after all I went through so I could come back here for my last year. Now you just change classes like a pair of socks?"

Snape rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "Oh, for God's sake, I didn't run off and join the circus," he snapped in reply. "I'm still right here, teaching a class that you still have to take. Professor Slughorn was my own instructor in Potions during my time here. He has a total of fifty years teaching experience, which makes him more than adequate for the job. I don't see what has your tail in such a twist. "

"But Potions was ours!" she announced with exasperation.

"Excuse me?" Snape looked up from his books with an eyebrow cocked in surprise.

Davindra sighed and placed her hand against her forehead as she began a pace of his room. She seemed to wilt under an invisible weight before she continued in a much calmer voice.

"It was my passion. It and you. I haven't separated the two in seven years, and I can't imagine doing it now."

He hid a smirk before he replied. "Flattering as that is, Miss Collins, I can assure you that I and the art of potion making are exclusive of each other. You needn't have one to find the other."

"But I don't want one without the other," she said softly as she approached him. "You're the best there is in most anything that is important to me. How could I accept anyone else?" Her hands slid around his shoulders, and he felt her face press into his hair and against his neck.

A familiar excited tingle began in his stomach as he wrestled with what to do next: throw her on the table and enact what he had fantasized about every night for weeks, or push her away with some vague excuse of promises and self-restraint.

Her fingers in his hair and her lips at his ear were making it hard for him to logically choose.

"Davindra," he finally managed, taking her hands from his body, "you have to stop this. It's over."

"Oh, you stop." She laughed playfully at his rebuke and attempted to again take her place against him.

"I mean it," he said more forcefully as he gripped her shoulders with arms locked to keep her from touching him. "I always said that if anyone found out, it would be over. Several people know. So it's over."

She looked at him with disbelieving, pale eyes. "Only my family knows," she assured him with an uneasy smile. "No one here knows. We aren't in any danger of being discovered here."

"It doesn't matter." Snape used his coldest voice to convey a bleak statement that he found he didn't have total faith in. "I said if anyone knew. Three people know. Three people who have threatened my job, my freedom, and even my body parts if I come near you again. I'm not stupid enough to tempt that."

He walked away from her to return some books to his shelves and try to gather some clarity about how to spend the next year rejecting a very persistent, clever, salaciously beautiful girl who wanted nothing but to adore and please him.

"You're being ridiculous!" Davindra said in exasperation. "I can't believe you are letting them frighten you."

Snape turned. "And who was it that was afraid her grandmother was trying to drug her and keep her prisoner?"

"And she was! But who was it that said he was a grown man and could take care of himself in any situation?" she tossed back snidely.

"Something you haven't learned about being an adult is knowing when to challenge and when to back down. This just isn't worth the risk."

"You lie," she said with bitter contempt. Her eyes bore into him in accusing scrutiny.

Snape gave her a threatening glare as he slowly approached. "I do hope that you are not implying that I am weak in my convictions, Miss Collins. Choosing one's battles carefully is not the same as... cowardice," he spat out the last word with revulsion.

As usual, even his harshest words failed to crack her ardent tenacity. She glared back in challenge. There was a heavy, measured silence between them for several moments as they stared one another down. It was becoming tiring and rather dull when Snape finally consented.

"I never said that I would enjoy giving up the pleasure of your company," he finally uttered. "But however desirable you are, I cannot justify sacrificing my employment and reputation for it. It's an unfortunate circumstance, but we knew going in that this was a tenuous endeavor. We can't be surprised that the end came so soon."

"Well, at least you are now admitting that you like it," she said with a bitter edge.

Snape backed away with a sneer and continued with his thumbing of a book. "Would you even believe me if I said I faked all my orgasms," he said flippantly.

"Considering that I've seen your eyes roll back in your head on more than one occasion, no, I wouldn't buy it," she answered with equal sarcasm as she moved closer.

"And there were times you came so hard I feared you were in the throes of a seizure," he replied with slow coolness.

Again, Snape felt her hands caress his shoulders. "And you want to give all that up?" Her voice brushed against his ear in a throaty whisper.

Actually, Snape deeply resented the idea that he would have to give up the one luxury he allowed himself. The one thing that took away his thoughts and worries, even if only for a while. This time he didn't push her away as her fingers began a soft stroking of his hair, though he told himself it was dangerous to allow her to touch him. Her hand traveled his chest, stroking past the buttons on his jacket and wiggling her way into the spaces in between to scratch at the shirt underneath.

"It was an impossibly long month and a half," she spoke again, her words tickling the inside of his head. "I never agreed to end this relationship, Severus. So I break no promises by doing this."

She turned his face toward her and kissed him in an open, wet, sensuous way that almost took his knees out from under him. His body responded without consideration and immediately they were pressed together in a clenching, mauling embrace. When he had agreed to end his involvement with Davindra, he had forgotten that she was nearly impossible to resist when she exerted the slightest effort for his attention. He had foolishly assumed that she would honor her mother's wishes after being rescued from Madame Collins and allowed to resume her schooling. It was a stupid assumption and he knew better. But the demands of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord had pressed many reasonable thoughts from his mind.

Davindra pushed him down into his chair and crawled onto him to straddle his lap. The frenzied kisses continued as Snape felt her guide his hand into her open blouse and inside her bra to grasp the warm flesh underneath. She moaned at his touch and pressed her body closer to grind against his rapidly hardening erection. In an insatiable hunger, he pulled her clothing away to reveal the pale mound with its delicate pink nipple and set his mouth upon it with ravenous delight.

He wasn't sure which broke him from his enthusiastic application. It might have been the sound of his door opening, or the gasp that came not from Davindra, or perhaps just the sensation that they were no longer alone. Snape looked up to find Draco Malfoy standing in his doorway with a look of disgusted shock on his face. For a few frozen seconds, the three of them stared at one another in equal horror. Davindra tried to cover herself but not before Snape had shoved her from his lap, and neither moved quicker than Draco who bolted from the room.

Snape took off at a run to catch the sprinting boy, calling after him to stop. If he made it back to the Slytherin common room, there would be no talking with him. Drawing his wand, Snape commanded, Incarcerous, and magical ropes shot forward to wrap around the boy's legs, bringing him down to the hard stone floor with a thud.

Draco struggled to free himself, but Snape got to him first, grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him to a standing position against the wall. Both of them panted for air after their chase.

"What happened to knocking, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked in breathless ferocity.

Draco wouldn't meet his eyes but held a snarl of scorn on his face. "It didn't occur to me that you'd have company." He said the last word with malice, as though speaking it polluted his tongue.

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did nor who that company may be," Snape hissed threateningly.

"Then why act so guilty?" The boy finally met his eyes with challenge. "Or don't you have all your students serve their detention on your lap?"

Snape jabbed his wand into the soft, fleshy pallet under Draco's chin causing the boy to wince and look fearful.

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" There was snide contempt in his voice. "Jealous?"

"Hardly, since I was the one who dropped her. I could always do better than a Mudblood. But what about you?" A twisted little smile started on the boy's pale face. "Can't find women your own age?"

"I have no reason to justify myself to you," he spat in reply. "Especially since I am going to Obliviate this whole nasty incident from your memory."

Just as he was raising his wand, Draco interrupted.

"There's no need, you know. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone." Despite his words, his tone was still acidic. "I mean, it would be pretty stupid of me to get you thrown out of Hogwarts now. I don't think the Dark Lord would appreciate it much."

It was a valid argument. And it wasn't as though Snape didn't have his own leverage to keep the boy in line. One word from him and the Dark Lord would give Draco a fate much worse than that his father suffered.

"And how am I supposed to trust that?" Snape asked cautiously.

"I give you my word as a Death Eater," he replied with an obvious pride.

Foolishly the boy believed there was honor and nobility in a Death Eater's word. Snape smirked at the absurdity.

"And will you even be able to keep your emotions clear and unaffected for the task at hand if I allow you this knowledge?" Snape pressed.

"Why should I care who you fuck?" There was a serrated edge to the words Draco spat at him, which said that the boy did care.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy," he said smoothly. "If you didn't care, why did you run like you'd just been hexed?"

"You think I want to stay around and watch someone as old as my father molesting one of my old girlfriends?" he replied, his lip curled in disgust.

"Pity, you might have learned something," Snape said with a wicked smirk as he backed away and took the rope hex off of Draco's legs.

"I will allow you to keep your memory on this. But I do warn you, if you dare cross me, I will make sure that the Dark Lord hears some very disappointing news in regards to your progress here at Hogwarts." He narrowed his eyes into a chilling scrutiny. "Keep your word and I will help you in your task, and there will be great reward in the end for you and your whole family."

"I don't need your help." Draco snarled back as he shoved his way free from Snape's cornering. "I'll bring honor to my family and my father's freedom on my own. I'll keep your dirty little secret, but not because you threatened me. But because I won't gain anything by squealing."

The boy stalked off down the deserted hall to the Slytherin quarters and left Snape glowering after him before he too returned to his office.

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

Although there was an invigorating rush in teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Snape had trouble letting go of his claim on Potions. Slughorn was back to his old habit of fawning over certain students and had resurrected his little ass-kissing club. And strangely enough, now Harry Potter, who would not have even been allowed in Snape's upper level Potions class, was Slughorn's top student. Snape's tea nearly went up his nose when the old Potions master informed him of the perfect specimens of brewing the boy was turning out.

"Potter? Harry Potter?" Snape pressed in shock.

"Oh, yes, an amazing talent," the man's beady eyes twinkled in his fat face. "Must have gotten it from his mother." He then gave a chuckle.

Snape returned a scowl. Lily Evans had been his nemesis in Potions. His work was often superior, but perhaps the fact that he didn't have flashing green eyes and an effervescent wit made him so easy to overlook.

"But I can't seem to get that Potter boy to come to my little gatherings," Slughorn continued. "You may remember the Slug Club?"

Snape gave him a narrowed look of contempt. "Vaguely."

"Oh, well, just a little get-together of similar minds. Harry would be a perfect addition. But it seems this time he says he has detention with you. Now, I can't imagine what the fine boy could have done to warrant such a thing. You don't suppose you could put it off for a night and let him enjoy a little refreshment and camaraderie, do you?" There was jovial challenge in the man's voice, which Snape found insulting.

"Hardly. I've already had to give him one reprieve for his flagrant disrespect in my class. He won't be getting another. I'm afraid your little party will have to go on without him," Snape ended with a patronizing sneer.

"Oh, well, that is such a shame," Slughorn said with a furrowed brow. "He's always a perfectly behaved lad in my class. But do you know who else I cannot persuade to join our group," he pressed on in continued cheer, "is that mesmerizing little Ravenclaw, Davindra Collins."

Reflexively, Snape's eyebrows went up when he heard that Slughorn was trying to recruit Davindra into his clan and that she was resisting.

"I hear she is a bit of a pet project of yours, you being so close to Demelza Collins and all," Slughorn continued, unaware of Snape's obvious revulsion in his company. "She's quite clever, though. But I'm afraid I'm having a bit of a hard time winning her over from your ways of teaching. She keeps reminding me of how Professor Snape did things."

He smirked. 'My little pet indeed. I'll have to remember to reward her loyalty.'

"Miss Collins is rather a loner. I doubt she would be much interested in joining any groups," he said casually. "She's always been a studious, determined girl not prone to frivolous engagements or insipid fraternizations. Pressing her will only make her more stubborn on the fact. I would invest my efforts elsewhere, if I were you."

Snape gave Slughorn a quick, slight smile, then turned to leave him with mouth agape and thoughts confused as to if he had truly been insulted or not.

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

After being caught by Draco Malfoy, Davindra had been less insistent in her affections. Though Snape had assured her that Malfoy would keep quiet under threat of retaliation, she still seemed anxious. Personally, Snape didn't wish for any more close calls either. That one had been enough to take years off his rapidly decreasing life span. So, though she did frequent his office for short periods, no physical intimacies had been exchanged. But Snape felt the tension building in them both. The glances got longer and more intense and the attempts to find reasons to touch were almost embarrassing in their ludicrousness. He resigned himself to the idea that in the near future, he would crack, and the relationship would resume with as much uninhibited passion, if not more, than before.

N.E.W.T. level Defense Against the Dark Arts required that each student take on a research project for the year that would ultimately coincide with their career choice after school. Snape set up private meeting times for the student to discuss their ideas for the project. A sign-up sheet outside his door listed the times that he was available and each student was responsible for choosing a time and showing up. It was unsurprising to see that Davindra chose the last time slot available right before the dinner hour. No doubt she was wanting to monopolize his attention for as long as possible.

After hearing some painfully inane and completely undeveloped ideas on projects, Snape was about to start on the bottle of Firewhisky that occupied the lowest drawer on his desk when Davindra came into his office without knocking.

Too busy massaging his temples to even scold her, he just allowed her to roam about the room as usual as he prepared to hear her idea.

"Rough day, Professor?" she asked with a knowing smile.

His answer was a dark look and continued pressure to his throbbing head. Suddenly Davindra was behind him, her fingers firmly pressing into the tight muscles of his shoulders and working her way up his neck.

"What are you doing?" He attempted to sound annoyed, but the groan of relief took all the sting out of his words.

"Sounds like you're a little tense," her voice purred into his ear. "Granny Lilly taught me some Shiatzu techniques to get rid of headaches."

Her precise kneading went up his neck to the base of his skull, then back down his shoulders, around his shoulder blades and down his spine, focusing on certain acupressure points that nearly made him jump from his seat. It was heavenly to simply let his body give in to her skilled fingers.

"If you can talk while you do this, we can kill two birds with one stone," he said as his head rolled to the side and he let his eyes close.

"The idea for my project?"

"Mmmm."

"Well, I thought I would research and document the long term effects of the Imperius Curse."

His eyes flew open. "What?"

"Granny Lilly knows someone at St. Mungo's who is studying some of the patients in Ward 49 who have had long term exposure to the Imperius Curse. If I can get permission to visit St. Mungo's just a few times to meet with him, he will give me some of his research which I can use in my project and hopefully develop some new theories of my own. After I'm done at Hogwarts, he said there might be a place for me in my apprenticeship in his research group."

As she spoke she had become very enthused and her fingers punched and pinched his flesh too hard. Snape moved away from her hands.

"That sounds like very advanced work, Miss Collins. Are you sure you could handle that with all of your other upper level class projects?" Indeed her idea was the most complex but also the most well thought out he had heard all day.

"I think so," she said coming to sit on the end of his desk facing him. "My other class projects are much simpler. This one could actually help me in my career as a Healer. I mean, what if I actually got published before I finished my N.E.W.T. levels?" There was new excitement in her eyes as she pondered future fame.

Snape's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her long legs as she sat before him, her knees slightly parted and her skirt half way up her bare thighs.

"You're expecting a lot from this, it seems. But I caution you," he said, "research is exhausting, thankless work. Though it is an admirable endeavor for your N.E.W.T. project, I wouldn't expect to hang your entire career upon it." Again his eyes went to the inside of her knee and up her pale thigh into the dark terrain under her skirt.

Davindra seemed to notice his distraction for she scooted closer down the desk until she was nearly in front of him and raised her foot to rest on his chair, giving him an almost unobstructed view of her cotton panties. Snape felt his mouth go dry.

"I appreciate the concern, but I think I can handle it." Her voice was annoyingly calm. "If I can get permission from Professor Dumbledore to do the day trips to St. Mungo's, will you support my project?"

"I suppose I would have to agree to it if you got Professor Dumbledore's permission." His voice was thick and his mind suddenly clouded. He could not pull his gaze away from the sight before him. And perhaps he was imaging it, but he was almost sure he could even smell her arousal as she continued the bawdy display.

Lifting her foot from the chair so the loafer could drop to the floor, Davindra then squirmed her toes in between Snape's legs to nestle against his crotch. He found himself stroking her slender calf as her foot pumped against his already hard and hot erection.

"So, I hear you're not interested in joining the Slug Club," he said as his fingers delicately slid their way up her leg to the inside of her thigh.

She scooted closer, opening her legs more. "No, Slughorn's a bombastic old wind-bag. He doesn't teach a bad class, but he lacks your style and intelligence. And the way he falls all over himself around some of the students is just pathetic. All anyone would have to do is offer him the right bribe and they wouldn't have to lift a finger in Potions class to receive a passing grade."

Snape couldn't suppress a slight chuckle at her quick and correct evaluation of the hedonistic old goat as the knuckles of his hand brushed against the warm, moist fabric of her underwear. Her breath caught softly.

"Grandmother always said that if he hadn't been such a glutton, he might have been a great Potions master. But then again, she wouldn't have had a job teaching if he had known any self control," she went on, though with a slight moan behind her words.

But she groaned audibly as he caressed his thumb in small circles over the slight nub behind the fabric.

"I appreciate your loyalty to my teaching style, but Professor Slughorn will offer a valuable alternative view of many things." Snape placed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh causing her legs to move even wider apart and her back to arch. Finding the edge of elastic, he slipped his finger inside and was instantly met with slick, wet heat that made them both sigh with pleasure. "Although, I will say that Madame Collins was the true influence in my pursuit of my Potions education."

"Why was that?" Davindra gasped as Snape plied her inner thigh with more kisses and strokes of his tongue and his fingers entered the tight confines of her body.

"She wasn't impressed with pure-blood or charm. She only appreciated raw talent," he said against the white flesh of her open legs. "She encouraged me to pursue my interests whether they be dark or light, as long as they were relevant."

"That sounds like her." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "And you also."

The agonizing game they were play was beginning to tear at the edges of his sanity. Grabbing the sides of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. She raised her hips to allow the progress. Once free, Snape dragged her to the edge of the desk and sat before her open body, staring down into the crux of his obsession, the dominion of his desires.

"Just remember to ward the door this time," she said with a jesting lilt.

Snape raised his eyes to give her a sardonic look from between her knees, but did take his wand to the door and secured it against intruders.

When he finally set his mouth upon her, he found himself dripping with as much wet anticipation as she. Hungrily he gorged upon her essence until she clawed at his forearms and emitted a trembling cry of release.

She lay across his desk, awaiting his entrance into her. Snape could hardly get himself exposed before she began pulling him on to her, wanting his pleasure to mingle with her own. Deep in his mind he had always had the fantasy of having her this way, and he let his imagination soak up all the sensations around and in him to give life to an illusion he knew would sustain him for years to come.

His orgasm was quickly reached, and he grabbed the far edge of the desk to assist in the last few powerful drives of completion. After delirious, dizzying waves of pleasure finished shooting through his body, he lay against her, struggling for breath and focused thought.

Davindra remained silent except for her own slowing breaths. Her legs stayed locked around him, her hands still traveling his back and through his hair. When enough energy returned to extract themselves from one another, Snape realized they had just enacted their lust on top of the fifth-years' essays and ruined over half of them.

He cursed and she giggled. A flick of his wand repaired the damage; another cleaned them both of the excessive mess.

"Honestly, Miss Collins," Snape said as he straightened his clothes and she searched for her underwear beneath the desk. "I guess you don't have the heart of a Slytherin after all."

"Oh?" her curious voice came from below.

"If you did, then you would have waited until I was inside you to ask for my support of your project," he replied mundanely.

She stood, her found panties clutched in her hand. "Oh, Professor, I know your buttons. Did you think I was giving you the free show up my skirt for no reason?"

He gave a twisted smirk. "I stand corrected. That Sorting Hat has lost its touch, I believe."

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

A bitter fall day found Snape alone in his office, wishing he had asked for Davindra to skip the Hogsmeade trip and spend the afternoon in bed with him. They had not had a leisure day of that nature since the previous year. He found he missed the companionship as well as the sex to occupy his time. Especially now that his quiet hours were spent in miserable contemplation of his newest tasks. He had to protect and guide a young man who would barely talk to him and ignored all requests of meeting, as well as kill the most admired and respected wizard in the entire wizarding world. Even if he managed to survive those duties, then his life wouldn't be worth a leprechaun's Knut. He was about to find the biggest bottle of poison he owned and down the entire thing when Filch appeared at his door with a strange necklace and a story about a student being put under a terrible curse.

The necklace was familiar, and after a few moments thought, he recognized it as a cursed piece that had resided at Borgin and Burkes. After more of the story surfaced, it was obvious that this was Draco's pathetic attempt to kill Dumbledore. Not only was the Dark magic on the necklace easily detected, but the plan of getting it to the Headmaster was sloppy and now involved an innocent student as well as witnesses.

Snape's attempt to find Draco and talk reason to him was met with sullen obstinance. His voice of concern and warning was only met with disrespect and acrimony. In the few short, quiet words they exchanged, Draco refused to admit to any involvement with Katie Bell's unfortunate accident. He swore an alibi for the entire day. However that alibi was Crabbe and Goyle, who were known to sell their souls for peanuts if told to do so.

Snape was left with going to the only other person he could speak frankly with, Dumbledore.

"So you think this was Draco's work?" the old wizard asked casually of the plot to end his life.

"I'm afraid so," Snape replied miserably. "I don't know what distresses me more. The fact that he's actually attempting to go through with it or that he is doing such an appallingly pathetic job of it. You would have felt the curse on this piece from across the room."

"I'm sorry my demise is not going better for you," Dumbledore spoke with a mischievous smile.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean," he snapped. "And this isn't funny. "

The Headmaster chuckled. "I do know what you mean, and it isn't humorous that a boy's life hangs in the balance of my fate. For I fear it isn't a fair exchange. Can't you talk with him?"

"He won't answer my summons, he will hardly speak to me in the halls," Snape recounted with annoyance. "I can't make him accept my help. He is being stubborn and willful. And I'm afraid it will only be his downfall in the end."

"You have to keep an eye on him somehow. Keep him from making any more stupid mistakes that could cost a lot more than just one life." Dumbledore mindlessly toyed with the withered hand that rested on the desk.

"How is it doing?" Snape asked, motioning to the dead appendage.

The old man sighed and shook his head, though he attempted a smile. "Not well. It's advancing."

With that, he raised his sleeve to show that the dead tissue had risen to midway up his forearm.

"You're taking the potion I gave you?" Snape asked accusingly.

"Of course. But I told you, Severus, I don't think this can be stopped. However, I believe I have found a way to turn my destruction into a powerful weapon against Lord Voldemort. Ancient magic is often dismissed as ineffective in modern times." Dumbledore smiled at Snape's confused look, but expressed no more on the topic. "But as far as this," he said holding up the blackened hand, "it's just a matter of time before it devours me whole. Neither you nor Draco may need to fulfill any trusts at this rate."

"We could only be so lucky," Snape said bitterly. "Sir, you only need a stronger dosage. I'll make one up as soon as possible. Take it three times a day instead of two," he said, standing up and starting for the door. "And don't argue that it won't do any good, for I'm certain it may be the only thing keeping you from withering into a shriveled fig before my very eyes."

He left the office with a new task to set his mind on instead of the gnawing issues that clutched and clawed at his brain every waking hour.

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

Despite what one might believe, being called to the feet of the Dark Lord was not a common occurrence. The master did not like being constantly surrounded by his groveling, scraping underlings and actually hated having an audience. He preferred the silent sanctuary of his own thoughts and plans, the only exception being the snake, Nagini. Usually one was only called when there was an assignment at hand or a punishment to be administered. Both good reasons to fear the call of the Dark Mark.

Most of Snape's rendezvous to the Dark headquarters at the abandoned orphanage were to meet with other Death Eaters to exchange information and keep each other updated on activities, spies, and recruits. It was also during this time that Snape heard the most valuable gossip. Though many might believe that Snape was the most trusted servant of the master, Snape himself did not delude himself with the thought that he knew all that happened or that would happen. Doing his own part to keep himself informed was what made him appear far more powerful than he actually was. It was a crafty illusion he let everyone believe.

However, hearing of a valuable, long-planned weapon being resurrected was an uncomfortable surprise to Snape. The first he heard of it was in vague whispers amongst some of the long-time members and even they possessed scant details. All that could be gathered was that it was old, dark magic that would ensure the Dark Lord's health and strength, rendering him undefeatable. It was only known as "the Vessel." Other gossip said that Lucius Malfoy had known the most about it. But he languished in Azkaban, unable to provide any answers. Knowing what an unadulterated bragger Malfoy was, Snape found it hard to believe that if Malfoy had known anything about a secret weapon, he would have been able to keep quiet about it.

Assuming that the Vessel had something to do with the Horcruxes that Dumbledore was chasing, Snape took the information to him, only to be surprised to find the Headmaster stumped. Research turned up intense amounts of references to "vessels" in ancient, dark text. But none of it seemed likely to have been used by the Dark Lord. They were both left to nervously ponder the mystery.

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

In spite of all Snape's predicated vows and stubborn insistence, the consuming relationship between he and Davindra seemed to re-infect them like a familiar plague. It began with the encounter on his desk and continued with no forethought, as though promises otherwise had never been spoken. The next time she had appeared at his door with a sultry shadow in her eye and hands that seemed impatient in their quest to be on him, he hardly bothered with a reproachful word. Instead he greedily partook of her generous affections and administrations. It didn't even occur to him that he had done something that could have disastrous affects until he lay spent and floating in an exquisite daze. By then it didn't matter anymore.

However, the intensity of Davindra's last year at Hogwarts allowed for little in the way of relaxation and free time. Having attained permission for her research topic and day trips to St. Mungo's, most of her hours were spent poring over books and reports and writing and compiling results. The subject was rather fascinating, Snape had to admit. She eagerly shared her findings with him, gushing quite excessively about Healer Erasmus Jones with whom she was working. Her enthusiasm for the subject and the man was so strong it seemed to cause a physical change in her when she spoke of it. Her eyes would flash and her cheeks would flush. She would almost be breathless at the end of her sentences.

Snape finally asked if she was in love with this Healer Jones. For a moment Davindra stared at him in a dumbfounded way, then burst out laughing.

"He's Granny Lilly's age and bald as cauldron," she said holding her side as amusement over took her.

Snape narrowed his gaze. "With your inclination towards older men, one could never be sure those characteristics would dissuade you," he said with an attempt to hide jealousy and embarrassment behind stolid words.

After wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes she had crawled into his lap and wrapped her long limbs around him, peppering his neck and face with soft kisses.

"How could I ever love anyone but you?" she said earnestly. "My heart has no room for another."

He'd grown accustomed to her declarations of love, but he could still never decide how best to respond to them. Though he no longer found them abhorrent or disturbing. In fact, he sometimes even liked to hear affirmation of her devotion to him, though he could in no way reciprocate. But this seemed to not bother her, for her words continued with no encouragement from him.

In his usual way of directing the discussion away from the topic of emotional attachment, Snape asked of Madame Collins. Davindra had reported earlier that her grandmother's attempts to explain and deny continued through the summer via owls. She had answered just a few because she began to feel guilty. So, a line of communication had opened between them again. But Davindra said she refused all offers of visits or gifts.

The woman still pursued her granddaughter even at Hogwarts. Madame Collins had gone back to very regular letters asking for details of her schooling and projects, as well as reassurance of Snape's expulsion from her life. Davindra said she answered some but not all of the letters and reassured her grandmother that all was well and that Snape was indeed no longer of interest to her and in fact he was even being a little extra mean.

The idea was humorous though he gave her a derisive lip curl. "Wonderful, now I'll once again get enraged letters from her chastising my villainous temper. And I have yet to truly show you 'extra mean.' Perhaps we should retire to my chambers for a demonstration."

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

All of the faculty had been invited to Slughorn's Christmas party. Or rather, everyone was badgered incessantly to be there. Snape attempted every possible way to get out of it, but Slughorn would not take no for an answer or accept any excuse. However, it took on a more interesting appeal when Snape began hearing about the guest list. Several people he might be curious to have a closer look at and perhaps a word with were to be in attendance, including a certain vampire the Dark Lord himself was attempting to court for his allegiance.

Davindra had also gotten an invite, as Slughorn continued his pursuit to have her in his Slug Club. At first, she too had politely refused the offer. But after Snape found that he was indentured to go, he told her she should suffer the same discomforts as him.

"But why?" she had asked. "It's not like we can be seen together."

Snape hated to admit he would simply enjoy the sight of her in the same room and knowing she was there.

"I just think it wouldn't kill you to actually go to one of Professor Slughorn's soirees of gluttonous excess just to see what they are like," he had replied coolly. "I'm going out of sheer curiosity myself. If nothing else, think of the fodder for gossip we will have to discuss afterward."

And it was a most boring, pompous, hedonistic affair. Snape stayed positioned in the corner for as long as possible sipping a glass of mediocre mead and eyeing the various guests. There were several minor wizard celebrities, such as members of a musical group and a few Quidditch players. More interesting was Sanguini, the vampire who looked as disinterested to be there as Snape was.

Davindra had arrived sometime before him and had stayed with a small group of Ravenclaws in the opposite corner. But they had exchanged a knowing look in greeting, though they kept the room's distance between them.

Snape wasn't allowed the luxury of remaining a wallflower, for Slughorn eventually pulled him into the melee, dragging him to meet several unnervingly phony, dull people. He was even forced to socialize with Hero Potter and withstand the nauseating praises Slughorn heaped on him. Snape still found it utterly unbelievable that Potter was excelling in a Potions class or that he could ever hope to become an Auror.

But the worst was Draco Malfoy dragged in by Filch, looking like death warmed over and attempting an excuse of party crashing. Several times before, Malfoy had been caught out at odd hours, but he would never divulge what he was up to. Snape just knew it had to do with the task the boy was assigned. However, he had issued a warning. If Malfoy were to get caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, he could end up in a great deal of trouble, even expelled. If that happened, there would be no end to the misery he would receive from the Dark Lord.

A private word with the boy revealed no more than the now usual hostility and, Snape believed, panic. Still he refused Snape's help, nor would he confide what he was doing. Dumbledore was being extremely forgiving of Malfoy's transgressions, but he couldn't ignore something as big as a student's death or worse if the boy continued to be sloppy and arrogant. After their brief and frustrating exchange, Snape went back to the party and Malfoy disappeared, probably to sulk and stew in angst.

During his absence, it appeared that Sanguini had gotten loose of his escort, Eldred Worple, and now had Davindra off to himself. He was staring down at her intently, his lips barely moving in a continuous stream of quiet words. Davindra seemed both fascinated and fearful, though her own eyes appeared hazy in their focus.

Snape approached and laid a hand on Davindra's shoulder to distract her from the vampire's hypnosis. She jumped from his touch but then turned to look at him with a grateful expression. Sanguini looked mildly displeased.

"Sanguini," Snape bowed slightly to the tall, gaunt man. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but it's getting late and I believe Miss Collins should be returning to her tower. And I'm sure Mr. Worple is wondering what happened to his guest."

"It IS getting late," she piped in with relief. "It has been a pleasure, Mr. Sanguini." She gave him a polite smile and nod, then turned to go.

Snape manage to whisper, "My chambers," as she passed, which she acknowledged with a meaningful look. He not only had a keen interest in what exactly Sanguini had been saying to her, but a bit of quiet company sounded good after all this exhausting socializing.

He had turned to leave himself when the vampire's smooth, vaguely foreign voice caught him.

"She is an interesting young woman."

Snape turned and gave an arched eyebrow over an expression of mild curiosity. "Indeed, she is. And what exactly about her sparked your interest, besides the obvious?" he couldn't help but add.

Sanguini smiled. "I am always drawn to people who exude a certain quality. Perhaps it is confidence or self-awareness mixed with a keen intuitive intelligence." He sucked in a wet sounding breath as if savoring the flavor of his own words. "I can find them in any crowd. And I have an insatiable desire to discover what impassions and propels them."

"So would you call yourself a consumer of energies rather than blood?" Snape asked coolly, not exactly feeling fear but a distinct uneasiness.

Again he broke into a smile that showed the barest glimpse of sharp canines behind red lips. "I can find blood anywhere. The essence of the spirit is much more rare and savory."

As long as the soulless savage kept his fangs out of Davindra, Snape couldn't have cared less what Sanguini's taste preference was.

"And what about her interests you?" the vampire suddenly asked with a lingering look of amusement.

"She is a student," Snape replied tersely. "One of our more talented and promising, I dare say. As well as the granddaughter of a great potion mistress, Demelza Collins."

"As I thought," Sanguini said in a velvety tone.

"You know of Madame Collins?" Snape asked.

"Her services were recommended to me. And I must say, she makes an excellent Blood Replenishing Potion."

"Who recommended her?" Snape's curiosity grew stronger as they talked.

"A fellow I believe you know by the name of Rodolphus Lestrange."

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

Snape walked back to his chambers in a storm of swirling black fabric. His mind was frantically trying to knit together the pieces of information he now knew to create a clear pattern of events and associations. But things still seemed to be missing. There were gaping holes in which nothing fit.

This year he had allowed Davindra passage through the wards on his office and chambers on her own. Their meeting times were often at odd hours, and it was best that no one saw her standing around outside his dungeon waiting for him. It was often a startling yet pleasant surprise to walk in and find her there. He was still trying to get used to the informality they had created with their relationship. Tonight she had already made herself comfortable in his bed, wearing nothing but a seductive smile.

Ignoring her warm greeting and come-hither expression, Snape paced around his sitting area, his thoughts still tumbling upon each other. He stroked his bottom lip in a distracted way, which signaled to Davindra that he was in deep, contemplative thought.

"What's wrong?" she finally called out, giving up her attempts to lure him into bed.

Snape's pacing finally stopped behind a chair, and he leaned on it as he took a few moments to gather himself.

"Do you know Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"The Death Eater who escaped from Azkaban?" she asked with some revulsion. "No, of course not."

"Do you think your grandmother knows him?"

She started to answer, then stopped. Her pale eyes regarded him for a moment, as though her own thoughts were beginning to align with his.

"I don't know." Her reply was soft and a little worried.

"Tell me what you and Sanguini talked about," Snape said as he began removing his robe and coat, though his eyes still stayed on her."

Davindra pulled her knees up and hugged them to her body. "Nothing of any real importance. He asked about the school, what I studied. I told him some of what my projects were."

"What was he saying to you when I interrupted?"

Again she began to answer, then stopped with a puzzled look. "I don't remember. That's odd. I just remember feeling rather dreamy and uncomfortable."

"That's a vampire's effect," Snape said impatiently. "You should never let them draw you in like that. A few more moments he might have drained you of blood as quickly as Slughorn was emptying his glass."

He sat on the bed to tug off his boots, but yet his mind still refused to let go of its broken and scattered thoughts.

"So you wouldn't have recognized Lestrange if he had come to your grandmother's house," he pressed, though he continued with the task of his boots.

"The only people I saw who I didn't already know were the ones who came that night I told you about. I guess he could have been one of the people. But I told you, they were all wearing hoods and hats."

"What about Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Davindra shrugged. "I couldn't tell men from women that time. I thought I heard a man's voice though."

Feeling mentally and physically fatigued, Snape let his boots fall to the floor and his face sink into his hands.

"Do you think it's possible the Lestranges were really in grandmother's house?" she asked in a soft, anxious voice. "Do you really think they were there asking about me? Death Eaters wanting to know about me?"

Sitting up he looked at her and found her paler than usual and clutching the blanket to her body. Rarely did he ever bother to soften his words when he addressed her. God knew it almost took physical violence to even make her flinch. But there was something about the truly fearful look on her face that made him want to soothe away her worries and proclaim that she was perfectly safe and that he was simply thinking out loud. She would know better, though. When she realized he had lied to her, she'd be even more upset.

"I honestly don't know. But I suspect there is some connection. Sanguini knew of Madame Collins because she was recommended to him by Lestrange. Until last year he was in Azkaban. I'm not certain where all the pieces fit, but I think your suspicions about your grandmother are only becoming more grounded."

She took in his words and then nodded silently.

The rest of his clothes were pulled from his body, and Snape fell into bed. But when he turned to Davindra he found her curled onto her side with her back to him, the covers up to her neck.

"If you're tired, you should go back to your tower," he said with an edge of bitter disappointment. "The train leaves early tomorrow, perhaps you would like to be well rested."

"I'm not going." Her voice came slightly muffled.

"What? Since when? You didn't sign up to stay."

She rolled over to face him finally. "I don't want to go. I don't want to spend my entire Christmas trying to figure out how to avoid Grandmother. I just don't want to face her right now. Mother and Granny Lilly will understand. They know I have a lot of projects to do."

Snape settled down into the covers, and she immediately wrapped herself around him.

"If you're afraid, Davindra, you can tell me," he said gently as he smoothed the long strands of her hair that pooled upon his chest.

"I'm afraid."

"I'll speak with Dumbledore in the morning."

She turned to look at him and gave a faint smile. And finally she kissed him. Sweet and innocent at first, then with more intensity and abandon. Soon he had what he wanted, and he realized he now had exactly what he had wanted for most of his life, though unattainable he had always believed it to be. For the first time since he was a very small child, Christmas wasn't looking like such a bleak, pointless distraction.