Year Eight: To Burn in Heaven

and when we're done

soul searching

as we carried the weight

and died for the cause

is misery

made beautiful

right before our eyes

will mercy be revealed

or blind us where we stand

will we burn in heaven

like we do down here

will the change come while we're waiting

everyone is waiting

Witness -- Sarah McLachlan

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

Instead of warm sun, rain poured through the damaged roof of the old orphanage sanctuary in weak streams, pooling into dirty puddles on the ancient wood floor. For nearly 24 hours, the rain had continued unabated. Finally, the weather mirrored the atmosphere in Snape's mind: turbulent, dark, and oppressive.

The Dark Lord walked in circles around the water as though surveying its progress. Snape stood silently, awaiting acknowledgement.

"I do dislike bad news, Severus."

"I understand, my lord. And though it is most unfortunate, I don't see this as being a problem we cannot overcome." He paused for a moment, and after receiving no more comment, he continued. "Madame Collins did not survive the after-effects of the Cruciatus. She expired shortly after we left here. It was sudden. There was nothing I could do."

The Dark Lord didn't modify his pacing at the news. He seemed to hardly acknowledge the words at all. And Snape again waited for some sign of comprehension from his master.

"Not a surprising turn of events," the dark wizard finally spoke in a calm lilt. "And perhaps even for the best. She would never have allowed us to progress with our plans unaltered. No bother. You will be in charge of the potions, ceremony, and of course, the Vessel herself."

Snape felt a hot, excited flutter in his stomach. "Of course, my lord. It will be my honor to serve you."

"In fact, you can take her with you now," the Dark Lord replied as he waved his wand and summoned Davindra through the open door. "She is a rather morose young woman. She does nothing to soothe my nerves. I needn't see her again until the coupling."

Davindra walked slowly into the room. Her hair was disheveled and her robes rumpled. It looked as though she had received no more sleep than Snape had. He wondered what other tortures she had endured. Tired, bloodshot, pale eyes gave him a weary look of relief at his presence.

The Dark Lord approached Davindra and reached out to smooth her gnarled hair with his bony, colorless hand. She no longer flinched, Snape noticed.

"Tell me, Severus," the wizard asked. "Were you quite fond of Davindra during your time together?"

Snape measured his words carefully. "She was intelligent and pleasurable. I suppose I thought no more of her."

"You weren't in love with her, then?"

He let out an easy chuckle. "No, my lord."

"That's interesting," the Dark Lord continued with smooth elocution. "For it appears that she is quite in love with you."

Obviously he had spent quite a bit of time prowling about the corners of Davindra's mind to discover all of her secrets. Snape chastised himself for not thinking to teach her Occlumency instead of focusing so many obscure potions.

"And it seems that you two spent a fair amount of time in each other's company."

"She was quite persistent in her pursuit of my attentions, my lord."

"And you never worried of Dumbledore discovering your illicit little secret?" There was suspicion in the question.

"He knew," Snape replied plainly. "There have always been many illicit secrets at Hogwarts. It is an unwritten rule that most get ignored unless someone complains."

"You are lucky your job was never in danger," the Dark Lord said darkly. "If you would have lost your easy access to Dumbledore, all of our plans would have been risked."

"Indeed, my lord. But it was never an issue. I would have never allowed it to be."

Davindra had remained silent and still during their exchange, and both men looked to her now. The subject of their discussion looked back with tired disinterest, as though she had grown accustomed to being discussed as a static entity.

The Dark Lord then gave her a firm shove in Snape's direction. "You will be under Severus's care from now on. I do not want to hear of any trouble from you." He then turned to address Snape with chilling cynicism. "Just remember to whom she belongs now, Professor."

Silently Davindra allowed Snape to lead her from the Dark Lord's presence. After they had made many steps away from the sanctuary, she seemed to wake from her silent trance.

"Where's Grandmother?"

Snape paused in his stride to look at her. 'Might as well be blunt and get it over with.'

"She was far too weak to withstand a Torture Curse of that magnitude. She died before I could even get her home." He spoke frankly but with a modicum of reverence.

"Dead?" Davindra said the word as though it were foreign to her.

Snape nodded. "There was nothing I could do."

"And how do I know that you didn't kill her yourself?" Her accusation was clipped and cold as she crossed her arms and stared him down.

"You saw how she had to be carried out of here," Snape replied. "She didn't even make it out of the courtyard. I transfigured her into a single bone and buried her in the garden behind her home. We're going there now. You can see for yourself."

Sadness and anger seemed to charge through Davindra as she turned from him and continued down the hall with quick, snapping steps.

Snape had to hurry on to catch up with her, but just as he did, Bellatrix Lestrange appeared before them in a quick, silent manner. The pair stopped short to keep from running into her.

Snape gave her a tight, lethal smile. "Bellatrix, if you don't mind, we are in a hurry."

In return, she smiled a slick, wicked smirk as she focused on Davindra. "So this is the little pretty who was awarded the honor of giving the Dark Lord his heir?" Bellatrix circled her with critical eyes. "And a Mudblood, even," she sighed disappointedly.

"Jealous?" Snape asked with a twitch of his eyebrow. "Though I hardly think even magic could bring that decrepit body of yours back into fertility."

Bellatrix glared. "This body seemed more than adequate in pleasing you, Severus. Or have you forgotten our little celebration after you returned from killing Dumbledore." The woman gave a mean smile to Davindra.

Davindra shot a look of deadly contempt to Bellatrix before she then turned it to Snape.

"Actually, it has appeared to slip my mind totally," Snape quipped.

"Then perhaps you need a reminder," Bellatrix sneered, leaning in to him. "It seems that cavorting with children has dulled your senses to what a real woman can do." Again she narrowed her eyes at Davindra.

With what sounded like a snort of fury, Davindra pushed past Snape and Bellatrix to exit the building, slamming the door behind her.

Bellatrix watched while making sardonic tsking sounds. "I think I've stepped on her pretty little Mudblood toes. Why do men of talent and power always choose cheap youth and beauty over brains and breeding?"

Snape gave her a hard leer as he moved to follow. "Interesting change of philosophy considering that before Azkaban you yourself were little more than cheap youth and beauty."

He left Bellatrix snarling promises of retaliation and undoubtedly reaching for her wand. A quick exit shielded him from her wrath as he hurried to catch Davindra making her way down the crumbling stone stairs to the overgrown walk.

Finally reaching her, he firmly grabbed her arm, which she immediately shook lose of his grip.

"I do not need to be man-handled," she snarled at him.

"You heard the Dark Lord," Snape warned. "He said there was to be no trouble."

Outside the orphanage, Snape roughly crushed Davindra to his chest. She fought against his embrace until they Disapparated and were standing outside Madame Collins's old stone residence. Climbing roses and ivy covered the low walls around the yard, and birds were beginning to sing brightly now that the rain had eased. It looked strangely homey and comforting to Snape, even though he had buried its owner there hours before.

Davindra stared at the house sadly. Ignoring her sorrow, Snape charged through the front door, ordering her to follow. He had spent the entire night before poring over the instructions for the fertility and blood potions in hopes of finding something that could be unnoticeably altered to render it ineffective. Going through Madame Collins's library and stock of supplies and ingredients had given him few ideas. He knew that lack of sleep hindered his thought process further, but he felt unable to give himself over to comforts until he had an answer.

Once inside the home, Snape headed back to the work area. Davindra slowly walked around in helpless circles, probably reliving her better memories of her grandmother as she picked up and gazed at various objects.

The next time Snape looked up, she was nowhere to be seen. A short, frantic search found her in the back garden, sitting on the low wall near the rosebush under which he had buried Madame Collins. It was the largest of the collection with blood-red roses so deep and rich, their buds looked like drops of midnight. It was very near the same spot in which Madame Collins had been sitting when Snape had paid his one visit to her there, six years earlier.

Snape sat on the vacant space next to Davindra and waited for her to speak. He expected questions about Dumbledore, Madame Collins, Snape's service to the Dark Lord, or even his plans for how to save her. What he got instead caught him off guard.

"So you actually fucked her?" Davindra's words were formed into a bitter accusation.

Snape stared at her in shock for a moment before he could speak. "Your grandmother is dead," he began incredulously. "In three weeks time you will have to submit to the Dark Lord to conceive a child who will be sacrificed along side you, and the entire wizarding world will forever change. And you have chosen THAT to be upset about?"

"Oh, I cannot even begin to select all the things that I am upset about," she answered angrily. "But that is perhaps the cherry on the cake of my misery. I expect betrayal and deceit from many people. I hadn't anticipated it from you."

An annoyed hiss of breath whistled past Snape's teeth as he made efforts to control his rage. "Believe me, out of all the horrible things I have had to do for my own survival, I rank sex with Bellatrix Lestrange as one of my most distasteful tasks."

"But you did it anyway," she pointed out.

"Because I had to," Snape snapped. "I couldn't let the Dark Lord's biggest snitch know that I..." He found himself unsure of how to finish the sentence. That he was what? Too ill with grief and revulsion to even think about sex? Too obsessed with Davindra to even tolerate another woman's touch?

She looked to him to finish his own defense.

"There are many things you could never understand about what I have had to do," he finally said.

Davindra took her eyes away from him with no comment and returned to staring at the roses.

"So where are you in all this, Severus?" she asked in a much less harsh voice. "Are you really the Dark Lord's most faithful servant who happily struck down Dumbledore and plans to deliver me to his master on a bed of satin? Or are you still that mysterious double spy who crafted a convincing illusion and has many tricks still up his sleeve?"

Again she turned her pale, entrancing eyes to him, making it harder for him to evade the question.

"What do you think?"

"I know what I want to think. I know the man I've loved for many years now. But I don't feel as though I can trust anything anymore."

"When did you find out about your grandmother's arrangement with the Dark Lord?" Snape asked, finding a path for diversion.

Davindra sighed. "After Dumbledore was killed. Instead of Mother and Granny Lilly meeting me at the train, it was Grandmother. I refused to go with her at first. But she said she had important things to tell me, and it involved why my birthmark had been bothering me so much. I hadn't told her about that. I was scared but curious. I didn't believe her at first. I mean, it was just so ludicrous! But she showed me a contract she had signed, and she kept talking about how the wizarding world would be at our feet and that I would be the mother of a new nation. And strangely, I think when she saw how upset I was over it all, she looked a little scared too. I think she had started to question herself long before. She honestly didn't know about the sacrifice. "

Somehow, Snape felt a small bit of comfort in the fact that Davindra had been as ignorant of the plans as he.

"Her last words were that I had to do something to save you," he said quietly. "Misguided as her ambitions were, I do believe she meant it when she said you were the most important thing in her life."

"So, are you going to let me die, Severus?" she asked quietly.

Snape took a breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he answered, "Only after I myself am dead."

He felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. The sun had now emerged from behind the clouds to bathe the garden in radiant light.

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

When the day started fading and the house got dark and shadowy, Davindra went around lighting candles and lamps, giving the place a warm glow. Snape had had his nose in books for hours and had not stopped to realize how late it was or that he hadn't eaten in days.

He asked Davindra to fix them something to eat, and she silently obliged. Though she was far from the talkative, playful girl he had spent so much time with, she was at least no longer hostile to him. They were quietly existing in the same space, much like they used to at Hogwarts. Snape found it blissfully soothing and familiar. If only there were not the nagging task of saving her life to be overcome, he would happily live the rest of his days right there with not a single thing changed. The thought startled him. As did the plate that was shoved under his nose at that moment.

Mindlessly Snape ate the sandwich before him and continued to think. Davindra too ate while she stood in the doorway of the workroom, leaning against the door jam.

He stopped chewing long enough to ask, "What in the name of Merlin is this you are feeding me?" as he peered between the slices of bread.

"Tinned meat. Sorry, but there wasn't a lot of choices," she replied wearily.

Snape made a face but ate anyway. The sandwich quickly vanished and Snape dusted off his hands and coat, then stood to stretch his aching, tired back, which creaked and snapped in protest. Slowly walking about the room, Snape looked at the pictures, paintings, and tapestries that crowded the walls. Hidden amongst the frames was a small, official looking document from a Muggle hospital. On it were the tiny feet prints of an infant and the declaration that on November 13th, 1978 Davindra Daphne Collins was brought into the world.

"Davindra Daphne?" Snape asked snidely. "Sounds like a French poodle."

"I know," she said with resigned embarrassment. "So what's your middle name?"

"I don't have one."

"Yes, you do, Severus Tobias," she replied with amusement.

He turned to give her a sharp glare. "I can only assume you found that out by snooping."

"Of course," she said with a slight smile.

"It was my father's name. The less mention I hear of him, the better." Snape let the comment drop after. He didn't wish to get into a diatribe on how much he loathed the man who sired him.

"I think my mother was reading a lot of tragic, historical romances when she was pregnant with me," Davindra said. "Daphne was probably some wretched woman who died of a broken heart or for some noble cause."

'Let's hope that legacy isn't continued,' Snape couldn't help but think.

"It's getting late. You should get some rest," he said to her.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked, still leaning against the doorframe.

"I'll sleep later," he replied as he went back to the books he had covered the worktable with. "I want to do a bit more work."

"Severus, you haven't slept in days. I can tell." There was familiar scolding in her voice. "You won't do either of us any good if you drop from exhaustion."

"There are potions for that," Snape snapped back at her. "Now go to bed, Davindra, and leave me in peace."

An exasperated sigh escaped her, but she left him. Immediately he missed her presence and wished he hadn't be so cross with her. Maybe he did need some sleep.

Somehow he did manage to force a couple more hours of work out of himself before his eyes refused to focus. Too tired to even look for Pepper-up Potion, he went in search of a bed. The downstairs settees were too short or narrow to hold him. So he went upstairs looking for an empty bedroom.

An ajar door at the end of the hall caught Snape's attention, and he went toward it. Inside he found a small light coating the room in a dim glow and the bed already occupied by Davindra. She was curled into a fetal position with her back to him. Hoping to escape unnoticed he started to back out.

"I'm not asleep, you know," she said softly. She then turned over to look at him. "Stay with me."

Snape stayed rooted in his spot, staring at her, his hand still on the doorknob, and weighing his choices.

'Just turn and go. Sleep in a broom cupboard if you have to.'

Strangely though, Snape found himself inside the room, shrugging off his coat and tugging off his boots while sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyelids suddenly felt like leaden window shades. Firm, gentle hands on his shoulders pulled him down on the bed until his head landed on a pillow. Unintentionally, he let out a long groan of relief at the feel of his spine relaxing against the soft mattress.

Her body lay next to him, but not touching. He could sense her closeness and hear her breath. He could feel her eyes on him and it was the one thing that kept him from drifting off.

"Why did you kill him?" The question was delivered in such a soft, gentle voice that it actually seemed bearable to hear.

Slowly his eyes opened and Snape stared at the ceiling. "Because I had to," he answered.

"Why?"

"Because he ordered me to. He was weak and dying. He knew that he was becoming an easy target for the Dark Lord and a detriment to the rebellion."

"You didn't want to." It was a statement of observance rather than a question, for which Snape was grateful.

"No, I didn't want to. But he allowed me no other choice. I owed him far too much."

"Then it was very brave of you."

For all his exhaustion Snape managed a weak chuckle of scorn. "Brave. Haven't heard that word in a long time."

"What are you going to do now? Everyone thinks you're a murderer. You're a spy without a faction."

"Try to stay alive."

He felt her body melt against him, her head rest on his shoulder, her arms encircle his waist. It was probable that Snape fell asleep before his eyes actually closed.

When consciousness next came to him, he was sure that he had only slept for a few moments. But the room was flooded with brilliant sun, and he realized he has slept a very long time without moving a muscle. His body felt slightly stiff as he sat up and surveyed the room. It was a cozy space obviously decorated with a female flair due to the floral patterned wallpaper, delicate furniture, and light draperies that fluttered in the morning breeze. At that point Snape realized that the space next to him on the bed was empty. Davindra was gone.

Panic swept over him as he climbed out of bed and ran out of the room calling her name. What if she had escaped him? What if she had Disapparated to some remote spot he could never trace? What if she had been taken? Down the stairs he flew. He was suddenly regretting taking the amulet away from her. If they were still bound, he could have found her anywhere.

The double doors that led to the garden were wide open, and Snape rushed through them to see Davindra dressed in Muggle summer clothes bent over a stand of weedy stalks with yellow flowers. She turned to him as he approached and gave an easy, warm smile.

"I saw that you might be needing some St. John's wort," she said shaking a fist full of dewy herb at him. "These are slightly past prime harvest time, but still good. So, since I was up anyway..." She gave a shrug of obvious conclusion.

Snape found himself breathing a sigh of relief and almost laughing at his over-active paranoia.

"What's the matter? You must still be tired. Why don't we have breakfast?"

Before Snape could even comment, Davindra rushed into the house in a manic pace.

'I hope she isn't always this lively in the mornings,' he thought with annoyance.

They stood in the kitchen, Davindra handing him a mug of tea, then toast and jam. They ate silently. It was almost normal, the two of them starting a morning routine, quietly accepting each other's preferences and moods.

After Snape finished, he headed for the workshop. Davindra followed closely behind. He turned and looked at her.

"I have to deliver a dose of fertility potion to the Dark Lord by this evening," he said.

She nodded.

"You'll have to start yours tonight also."

Again she nodded.

"I've brewed the weakest dose I dared."

"When you're out, try to get some groceries. That is, if you don't want tinned meat sandwiches anymore."

She turned from him and went back to the kitchen.

Davindra stayed scarce for most of the morning, leaving him to finish the brewing process in peace. He continued to think and ponder what could be done to change the events that awaited them. If only he had access to some of his notes and books from school. Suddenly, he remembered Tom Riddle's spell book. It would surely have secrets to the process in it. Snape had no idea what had happened to the original he had give to Dumbledore. His own copy was hidden in his office. But he was certain that Madame Collins would have kept a copy for herself. Knowing her, he was more than certain, in fact.

He began looking through every shelf he found, flipping through every book and examining every object. Davindra came in and found him nearly destroying her late grandmother's library.

"What are you doing?" she asked in alarm.

"I'm looking for something."

"Obviously! But do you need to tear the place apart to find it?"

Snape glanced over his shoulder to give her an exasperated scowl. "There isn't time to be fastidious. I have to find a certain book. Do you remember an old, worn journal with hand written spells and potions like what I had you digging for at Hogwarts?"

"That describes most of Grandmother's collection," she quipped dryly.

He stopped his pillaging when he realized it wasn't there. "Where would she have kept something very valuable and secret?" he asked Davindra.

Looking bewildered, Davindra appeared to be thinking. Then her eyes went to a corner of the adjacent sitting room. With a furrowed brow of uncertainty, she moved into the room and began feeling about the panels. Snape followed with great interest.

"I used to find her in here, at this spot, always looking a bit suspicious and trying to hide whatever she was holding," she said.

Snape drew his wand and spoke an incantation at the wall. There was heavy magic protecting something. It might take months to figure out Madame Collins's system of charms.

"Any ideas?" Snape asked Davindra with little hope of an answer.

Again her brow knitted together in an intense stare at the spot on the wall. Extracting her wand from her back pocket, she raised it.

"Sub Rosa," she spoke and waved her wand in a swirling movement.

A small click sounded and a panel popped away from the wall. Snape looked at Davindra with impressed surprise.

Davindra gave him a slightly shocked smile. "It was a guess."

"A lucky one indeed."

Inside the shallow, hidden cabinet was a collection of books, bottles, boxes, and trinkets. Normally Snape would have enjoyed going through every item to discover what illegal and interesting secrets Madame Collins had been hiding away. But now he was too set on finding the book to take the time. The first few books were nothing but personal notes and records of potions she had done. The next one bit his finger. He threw it against the far wall, and it squeaked in pain as it landed. At last a familiar one fell into his hands. Immediately he recognized the scratchy scrawl of the handwriting. An exact copy of Tom Riddle's book. Or perhaps even, the original. This book felt heavier and darker than the one he had kept hidden for several years.

Immediately, Snape started leafing through the pages, completely forgetting about Davindra until she demanded to know what he had found.

"Something that might actually save us," he murmured as he hurried back into the workshop.

He scanned through pages until his eyes caught something that might be of interest. Only then did he notice that Davindra was leaning on his shoulder reading along with him. After giving her an impatient, waspish glare, she backed away and paced about the work room.

Though Snape saw many familiar potions and spells he had studied before from his own copy of the book, he also saw things that were not in his. Madame Collins had been holding out on him. She had planted a decoy for him to find and use but kept the best magic secret for herself. This included some scattered notes on the "Vessel Sacrifice." No concrete instructions were listed. It was mostly a rough outline and unfinished thoughts with various tries at a coherent recipe. Snape wondered how the Dark Lord ever perfected the process. Amongst the scribbles were scratched out ingredients, measurements, and incantations. It seemed that too much of certain ingredients inhibited the absorption of the fertility potion. Perhaps trace amounts of several of these could do the same.

Davindra still paced about him. "What?" she asked expectantly when he put the book down and stroked his lip in thought.

Taking the St. John's wort she had picked earlier and a sharp knife, he indicated for her to go to the table and begin working.

"Do a fine chop, but be sure not to bruise the pedals," he instructed.

They both set out working to finish the potion he would deliver that night. Quietly and quickly they labored. It felt almost like being back in his office or classroom, her gentle presence soothing him and distracting him all at once.

"It will need a short curing time," he finally pronounced, capping a bottle and setting it aside.

Davindra sighed and sat down. "I'm going to actually have to have sex with that man," she uttered in a depressed tone, her chin in her hands.

"You just now realized that?" Snape asked as he began clearing away some of the mess he had made over the last two days.

"No, I've known. I just didn't let myself think about it."

"I'm trying everything I can to keep it from coming to that. But until then, I suggest you continue to not think about it until the time comes."

"The thought probably doesn't bother you in the least, does it?" she asked, sounding more than wounded.

Snape pursed his lips and gave her a narrowed glance. Of course the thought had bothered him. It had torn and slashed at his mind and heart from the moment he had learned of the whole plan.

"It is simply an act of procreation. I can assure you that the Dark Lord would probably find little pleasure in it except for the thought that it would lead to his immortality," Snape explained.

"If he were any other man, would you feel the same way?" She gave him a deep, pleading look.

'I'd kill anyone who attempted it.' Snape placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her.

"He would just be using your body for a very brief time," he said quietly. "It isn't your soul and it isn't your heart. You would be giving him nothing of yourself."

She snorted with bitter disbelief. "Is that what you did with Bellatrix Lestrange?" Her gaze turned accusing and harsh.

Snape returned a scowl. "Basically." He waved his wand and commanded the piles of books to reshelf themselves. "Your mind can get you through any number of horrible encounters if you only use it. It was my fault I never taught you Occlumency."

"So how did you get through such a horrible encounter as shagging that old beast?" she asked snidely.

He spun around sharply to face her, his nose inches away from hers, and glared into her chilly green eyes. "I thought about you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she spat back resentfully.

"THAT is only meant to show you that your body and mind are separate, and they never have to be in the same place at the same time if you do not wish it." His words were sharp, and his voice was bitter. Not only did he wish to forget about the humiliating night with Bellatrix, but he loathed the idea of groveling to Davindra out of guilt.

She stood up abruptly. "How would you have any idea of what it's like to not only submit to a rape, but also to know that you are to bear the devil's spawn and that your life will end after nine months of carrying it."

"I won't let that happen," Snape replied.

She shook her head in disgusted defeat. "It's hopeless. I don't know why you think you can fight him. No one else can."

With a quick turn she stormed from the room and up the stairs. Her hurried, stomping footsteps sounding all the way to her bedroom.

For several moments Snape stood and just swallowed down calming breaths. Honestly, even he wasn't sure he could stop it all from happening, but he knew he would die trying rather than give up. It might not mean anything to her, but it was the one thing that kept him going.

Finally, he climbed the stairs after her. Slowly he approached her room. He was surprised to not find the door locked against him, but standing open, as though she had hoped he would come after her.

She sat on the bed, facing a window that framed the sun setting over the distant trees. He knew his presence was recognized though she didn't move. Snape made his way to the distant side of the bed to sit next to her and take in the same view.

For several moments they didn't speak nor look at each other.

"Do you want me to just give up?" he asked. "Do you think I've lasted this long dancing between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord by quitting when it got difficult?"

"Frankly, I don't know how you've done it," she replied tiredly. "I'm about to throw myself in front of speeding truck just to end the agonizing worrying and waiting." A faint chuckle escaped her as she pushed the hair from her face and dragged her fingers through its length. "Actually, that would solve most of the issue right there, wouldn't it?"

Snape gave her a hard stare. The very idea that she could even consider it was horrifying.

"Don't even joke about that," he snapped at her. "There is enough laying down of lives in this useless war as it is."

"If there is honestly no other way, if everything else fails..." she began.

Snape grabbed her by the arms to force her to look at him. "I will not allow it. Not now and not ever. I had to watch and participate in Dumbledore's sacrifice of himself because of the Dark Lord. I will not do the same for you."

She looked into him with bottomless sincerity, and before Snape could react, she kissed him. Her lips stayed upon his own in firm pressure, which he did not admonish, for several seconds. Though he knew he shouldn't, that they were skirting a dangerous venture, that he might not have the resolve to stop himself if he went further, Snape cupped her face and opened his lips to deepen the kiss.

It was like heaven was seeping into his veins. The months of hunger for her could no longer be denied. Her response seemed to say she felt all the same emotions and longings as he. Soft moans of pleasure and contentment reverberated from her throat at each plunging stroke of his tongue. Her hands clutched and grasped at his body and hair.

They found themselves rolling upon the bed, limbs entwined, bodies grinding against one another, hands stroking and pulling clothing aside.

Then, from out of the fog of lusty desire, the words of the Dark Lord echoed inside Snape's head. 'Remember to whom she belongs now.' He sat up as though he had been hexed. Still panting and tingling with expectant pleasure, Snape attempted to gain some control over his raging mind and body.

Confused at her sudden abandonment, Davindra sat up also and reached out a hand to touch him. "What is it?"

He flinched away from her and shifted to the edge of the bed. "We can't do this, Davindra," he said tightly. "You are not mine to have."

She scooted beside him, and, taking his chin in her hand, forced him to look at her.

"I've always been yours," she stated plainly with fierce resolve etched into her face. "I always will be. There is nothing and no one on earth or in heaven who can change that."

"I think the Dark Lord would beg to differ with you," Snape replied tersely. His eyes could not be pried from her lips, the softest place in existence and to which he begged to return.

"I won't allow him to take the last bit of pleasure from my life. He's taken everything else: my family, my freedom, my future, even control over my own body. I am left with very little but my love for you. I won't let anyone tell me I don't have a right to it."

When she made another attempt to close in on him, Snape didn't retreat. Her impassioned words seemed to fill his heart with a heavy sensation that made it impossible for him to move. He remained frozen as her hand gently brushed through his lank, oily hair and her lips brushed his cheek.

"I belong to no one but you," she whispered near his ear.

Snape was filled with a rebellious urge to revolt against the chains that bound him to do the Dark Lord's bidding. Wasn't his ultimate goal to assist in toppling the evil wizard's reign and free not only himself but all of the wizarding world from the Dark Lord's imperious enslavement? Snape owed him no honor and no sacrifice. Likewise, Snape knew little pleasure in his life but for her. Until he could slash at that vial creature's crumpled body and stomp on his broken bones in sanctimonious revenge, Snape would satisfy himself with taking back what was rightfully his.

Renewed passion overtook Snape when Davindra's lip again found his. The idea that he was defiling the Dark Lord's most cherished weapon only spurred on his lustful longing.

This time, the extracting of clothing was successful and soon they lay skin to skin. The sensation of her warm flesh felt like coming home to Snape, and he resisted every urge within him to whisper of his delirious gratitude. Her firm, supple flesh and gentle, teasing strokes drove all memories of Bellatrix Lestrange's assault from his mind.

Savoring every aspect of her that he had spent months fantasizing about took him to every part of her body. His fingernails raked over her thighs as he kissed the outline of her ribs. His tongue swirled around her breast until it peaked upon her hardened nipple. His teeth nipped and dragged across her flesh. All the while she squirmed and writhed against him, her hands clawing at his arms, back, and hair in a slow, deliciously sharp fashion. But always he returned to her lips as though to remind himself that sheer perfection was available for him to partake. The softness, pliability, and moist texture of her mouth made her the most intoxicating kisser he had ever encountered, his own skills considered far from expert.

Soon her insistent directing took him to that warm, wet area of his most desperate desires. Greedily she begged for his fingers, then his mouth, and then for all of him. He was more than willing and ready to oblige any request she made of him. As her heat slid around him, he stared into her eyes and remembered when feeling lost in them gave him a sense of disturbed panic, causing him to retreat from her presence. Now he would happily drown in those pale pools of ash, jade, and emerald.

The closer they approached to their release the more she whispered her words of eternal adoration and devotion. Snape almost requested she be quiet when amongst her breathless, tumbling words, she uttered, "Before I die, I want to hear you say it just once."

The comment broke his rhythm. "I won't let you die," he replied, then continued in his labor.

Moments later, quivering waves of ecstasy washed through him and then her, leaving them both blissfully weak.

"It would be worth it," she later said softly.

"What?"

"Dying. To hear those words from you."

"That would be a ridiculous thing to waste your life for," he replied with well-practiced apathy as he moved to lie next to her.

Davindra looked at him solemnly. "You wouldn't know because you haven't starved to hear it."

If only she understood how his whole life had been a barren wasteland of unspoken words and unrequited emotions. She had been showered with love and praise since she was born. What did she know of true neglect and isolation? But no quick, sharp reply sprang from him to insult her.

"When I finally found you at Payne Hollow," she began in a quiet voice as she curled onto her side near him, "I wasn't sure if I would spit in your face or fall at your feet. But I took one look at you, and nothing else mattered. What you said and did to me at Hogwarts didn't matter. Killing Dumbledore and serving the Dark Lord didn't matter. I would have submitted to anything you asked of me."

Snape just stared at the ceiling as her words trickled into his ear and seeped into his soul.

"Do you know I became yours the first time you touched me, showing me how to properly stir a cauldron in slow semi-circles during my second year? I pledged myself to you that day and waited four years for you to claim me."

"I am no more worthy of your pledge than the Dark Lord," he replied, letting the back of his hand rest against his forehead. "And using you like I did when you were hardly sixteen was little better than what he has planned for you."

"Don't you dare compare yourself to him," Davindra gasped, rising up on her elbows. "You are risking your life at this very moment to try to save me. You are nothing like him."

"It's not because I didn't want to be," he stated darkly, old memories sliding past his mind's eye. "I wanted it very badly. I had plans to be his second in command, to lead an army of the most fearsome Death Eaters. But I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't bear the death, torture, and destruction. I went crawling to Dumbledore on my knees. I begged. Begged and pleaded with him to take me in. I said I would spill every secret I possessed about the Dark Lord and all his followers if he would only allow me refuge in his fold. And he let me grovel and barter until he was satisfied with my degradation. It came far less easily than handing myself over to the Dark Lord. I've paid for it ever since. Dumbledore never let me forget that I owed not only him but also the entire wizarding race restitution for all the damage I had helped inflict. Cleverly, I made the Dark Lord think it was his idea that I become a double spy when he found out I'd been sneaking over to the other side. I lived in sheer terror for months until his supposed death. But I was no freer then, for I now had a debt to Dumbledore, which I was certain I would never be out from under. I pictured myself dying in that dungeon, teaching a room full of thick-headed children. Now, I crave that peaceful end instead of what awaits me."

Snape stopped speaking and looked at Davindra who gazed at him with sad eyes.

"So, you see," he added quietly. "It wasn't valor or righteousness that kept me from being like the Dark Lord. It was cowardice. I am noble only by default."

Throwing back the covers, Snape got up and began searching for his clothes.

"Would you be any happier if you had managed to become what you aspired to?" she asked, sitting on her knees and drawing the sheet around her.

Pulling his shirt over his head allowed him to avoid her interrogating stare. "Happiness has never been my objective nor my destiny. Success and power were all I craved in those days."

His boots were next and he sat on the bed to stomp his feet into them.

"What about now?" she pressed on. "What do you want now?"

Snape stopped with his elbows on his knees, the question a surprising puzzle to him.

"Peace," he finally answered.

Standing, he found his coat and shrugged it on. "I have to deliver the potion to the Dark Lord. I'm not sure how long I will be. If for any reason I'm not back by morning---"

"You'll be back!" Davindra interjected passionately.

Securing the last few buttons, he headed for the door, then turned. A few short steps found him at the bed to deliver a short kiss to the sliver of forehead that showed from behind her bangs.

"Don't forget your potion before midnight," he added and left the bedroom.

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

Strangely, the Dark Lord had little time for him. There was much activity happening as updated news of Harry Potter had surfaced, sending the Death Eaters flying in every direction to attempt to second guess where he could be headed. The Dark Lord had taken the potion Snape had given him, eyed it suspiciously, smelled it, and then finally after ascertaining that Snape, one of his more trusted soldiers, was not attempting to poison him, drank it down. He asked briefly if all was going well with the "Vessel." Snape replied that there were no problems, and he was dismissed.

He began to offer his assistance in the hunt for Potter, but was told that for now his attention was needed elsewhere, and if and when he was required, he would be summoned. Snape bowed after the short exchange and left the petulant wizard to his private schemes.

Before departing the old orphanage, Snape remembered that Davindra had requested food be brought back. He stopped to think where he could acquire supplies at that time of night. Snape wouldn't dare set foot in a traditional wizard market. He was wanted for murder. A Muggle market might be safer, but he had no Muggle money and actually very little wizarding money either. He wondered if there was enough food in the orphanage kitchen to supply them for a few days if no one noticed or cared about its absence.

As with many old buildings, the kitchen and food preparation area was in the basement. It was hardly more than a cave, dark and damp with bare necessities for basic survival. A Death Eater sat at the rough wood table, face down and a bottle of Firewhisky still in his hand. Loud snores disguised Snape's pilfering through the cupboards and shelves. There was hardly more there than at the Collins home.

While trying to decide if swiping a few cans and a stale loaf of bread was worthwhile, Snape's eyes fell on a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed into the corner. A sudden curiosity at what could be happening in the free world made him reach for the paper and smooth it out. Standing near the dying fire and flickering candle stub, his eyes roved over the articles and jumping pictures from the week-old paper.

"Diagon Alley Businesses Suffer from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Return." "Incidences of Muggle Obliviation on the Rise." "Two Death Eaters Captured After Attack on Prominent Wizard's Home." "700 Year Old Bridge Destroyed in Battle with Dark Lord Supporters." The headlines continued with the outstanding theme of war and suffering. Though the bottom corner held a mildly interesting piece. "Severus Snape Still Sought for Murder of Hogwarts' Headmaster." An old staff picture of him standing next to Dumbledore was positioned near the short article. In it, the two dimensional Snape stood next to the smiling old wizard, looking bored and slightly insidious, even by his own standards.

"The hunt continues for the former Potions master and accused Death Eater, Severus Snape, for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Few solid reports of his whereabouts have surfaced since his disappearance after Dumbledore's murder at Hogwarts on June 10th of this year. Wolfram Warbritton, Auror and Chief Investigator of the Criminal Interrogation Squad, said that several new leads have given them positive direction in which to look for Snape. "We feel certain that we will apprehend the culprit any day now. We are only steps behind," Warbritton said. A thousand Galleon reward is being offered to anyone supplying information to the authorities, which would lead to the capture and prosecution of Severus Snape. [See relating article on page 3]"

Snape gave a snort after he finished skimming the article. Yes, they were only steps behind him, he mused. They hadn't a clue and they knew it. But the rag did reinforce the knowledge that Snape was as good as dead if he so much as showed his face in daylight. He again wondered why he didn't just jump after Dumbledore's body from the tower that night. And he cursed the old wizard for leaving him all alone to face such a disastrous fate.

On the third page Snape spied a small article with a familiar picture attached to the headline. A smiling, raven-haired young woman pushed her bangs from her eyes and widened her grin as though in recognition of the man staring at her. "Missing Kent Teen Feared in Captivity of Dark Supporters."

"Davindra Collins, age 18 of Dover, Kent, has been reported missing and assumed kidnapped since June 13th of this year. She was last seen disembarking from the Hogwarts Express after her last year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is believed that Collins was apprehended by her paternal grandmother, Madame Demelza Collins, a suspected Dark supporter. Attempts to locate Mdm. Collins and her un-plottable residence have been unsuccessful. The girl's family says they have very strong suspicions that Collins is being held against her will and in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "We now believe that Demelza Collins had sinister plans in place for Davindra for some time," said Mrs. Lillyth Sparrow, maternal grandmother to the missing girl and spokesperson for the family. "We also think that Davindra could be forced into association with suspected murderer and Death Eater, Severus Snape, as Demelza herself had a close connection with that evil man. We beg and plead anyone who may have any information or may have seen anything, to please contact the authorities." Aurors and investigators from the Missing Wizards Unit have been working diligently to locate Collins and believe they are very close to tracking the location of Mdm Collins's residence, situated somewhere north of Norwich."

Snape stopped reading and looked at the picture of Davindra, still smiling and looking for all the world like she was completely unworried and pleased with her life. Unbeknownst to everyone else, she was actually far happier with him than she might be elsewhere, even though her life was in grave danger. But if wizard authorities had narrowed Madame Collins's home down to north of Norwich, then they actually were not far from discovering its true location and their most wanted fugitive. It was too close for comfort for Snape. A hundred different plans swirled around his head at once.

He Apparated in an eddy of black at the stone house. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at Davindra's bedroom where she remained curled under the covers where he had left her. She sat up and stared at him with wide-eyed surprise at his abrupt entrance.

"Get up and pack a bag," he ordered, then turned to leave.

"What? Why? What's going on?" she demanded as she began to climb out of bed, still shaking sleep from her head.

"It's not safe to stay here anymore. They're looking for you, the Ministry, your family. You made the Daily Prophet even," he said tossing the paper from under his arm onto the bed.

Davindra unfolded the paper and quickly scanned the article.

"Well, you can hardly blame them. They haven't heard from me since before I left school," she replied. "It's not surprising that they're worried. If I just sent them a message that I was alright, that Grandmother was dead even, that would probably pacify them."

"It is far too risky to contact anyone," Snape commented. "One owl from here would be like handing the authorities a map to our location. And if they find us, I will be sent straight to Azkaban, if I'm even left alive, and you will be no more safe from the Dark Lord's plans."

She looked crestfallen but convinced at his argument.

"Now, get dressed and meet me downstairs," he again ordered and left the room.

Out in the dark garden, Snape stood looking into the star-filled northwestern sky. One of his last conversations with Dumbledore replayed in his head.

"You'll need to wait a while, Severus. I don't know for how long. We'll have to just trust Dippet. Though once Fawkes is dispatched, the Order will know the truth. Our conjoined Patronuses will be the signal of a valid message. But use it wisely and sparingly."

'I hope to hell the old man knew what he was talking about,' Snape thought. 'If not, I'm handing us both over to a death sentence.'

Pointing his wand into the midnight sky, Snape spoke the words "Nuntius Patronum!" A wispy form shot forth and swirled around until it fell into the shape of a phoenix with out-stretched wings, followed by a coiled serpent.

The message was short and to the point. "I have the Vessel. Request a meeting and secured confidence." There was no point in explaining anything more. If they knew the truth, then they didn't need any more. If they did not, then it would be best to give them no more. The glimmering, hazy bird swept the serpent into its mouth.

"Transporto Patronum!" And the vision set off into the night.

A half hour was all he was willing to wait, he had decided. With the last shimmer of the phoenix's tail swallowed up by the inky darkness, Snape turned back toward the house to gather some necessities and to watch the clock, their fate less sure with every silent slip of the minute hand towards an undetermined destiny.

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In Rome, a wild rose would be placed on the door of a room where secret or confidential matters were discussed. The phrase sub rosa, or "under the rose," means to keep a secret, derived from this ancient Roman practice. --Wikipedia.org

BTW, Daphne IS the name of my poodle! Homage to my Daphne-dawg!