And So the Tale is Told

Chapter Twenty

And So the Tale is Told

And so the world relaxed. The few Death Eaters that survived went into hiding or denial; those that escaped Azkaban, that is. The heroes had been happily recognized and rewarded with honors and accolades. It only took two weeks of preparation, then one more night to employ those plans. After all the years of fear and suspicion, it seemed not enough.

Snape tried to keep from falling asleep as Tanya's hands worked over his shoulders and back, easing away sore muscles. She really did have magic in her hands, and it felt like she was sending in small bursts of heat as she massaged. He felt himself harden as her hands worked their way lower and lower, and by the time she reached the back of his thighs, he was almost panting.

She urged him to his back, and began working her way up the front of him. There was no doubt in either's mind that this was now a sensual massage, as her hands slowed down to tease and tantalize, rather than relax him.

She purposely avoided his arousal, instead moving her hands like feathers at his hips, and low on his belly. His cock throbbed in protest and he grabbed the sheets in his hands to avoid directing her hands where they were most needed. He wanted to prolong these moments as long as he could, and the only way to do that was to let her call the shots.

She moved her hands over his chest, across the male nipples, and repeated the motions, this time with a lighter touch. She kept doing this for several passes, each pass having a lighter stroke than the last. He moaned and closed his eyes. She had his skin so sensitized by now that the feel of her breath alone might just send him reeling out of control.

He felt feather-light touches on his neck, then his face, and when she lightly ran her fingers through his hair, he opened his eyes and saw the passion in hers. It was the final straw; he couldn't take it anymore.

He put his hand at the back of her neck to urge her down so he could taste her lips, and then gently pulled her fully along his body, feeling the warmth of her bare skin on his, letting her feel the evidence of his arousal hot against her belly.

He urged her over on her back, and followed, pushing one leg between hers. He forced himself to go slow; he wanted her as hot as he was, ready to beg for it. He touched his lips to hers, softly licking and nibbling her lower lip. She was responding the way he expected, and he slowly pushed his tongue into her mouth. He moved so that his chest moved against her breasts, and felt her hands tighten on his. Her legs were clenched around his one leg, and he shifted so that he could put pressure on her sex.

Her legs opened slightly in answer, and he knew she wanted to feel his other leg between hers now, pinning her in place. He obliged, but then only continued rubbing against her most sensitive areas. She whimpered, and he throbbed in answer.

"Severus . . . don't make me wait . . . c'mon Sev, take me, let me have it . . ."

He almost thrust deeply inside her at that, but collected himself at least enough to lift one of her legs at the knee so he could position himself just at her opening, feeling the heat and wetness on his most sensitive part. He moaned into her mouth and pushed in just to the head. He felt her hips angle to let him in further, but he held back, wanting to prolong this moment.

She groaned in protest, shooting her hips upward, and he avoided what she wanted, kissing his way down her neck, loving the feel of her smooth skin on his lips. He breathed in the musky scent of her, and moved his lips back to hers. She was panting now, so he moved back a little and picked up a lock of her hair to tickle his own lips with it. Her hair was so soft, and he again pushed into her.

"Oh, Sev, yes, I want you, I love you."

It was more than he could bear to hear those words on her lips. She'd never said them before, and he pushed deeply into her, capturing her moan in his mouth. She shuddered as she pulled him closer to her, and moved her hips to get all of him.

He tried to keep the rhythm slow, but after only a few thrusts, his body took over and she matched him push for push. He could feel her nails on his back; he felt her tightness clamp around him, and he began gasping himself, her name on his lips, a litany he was only barely aware of. He began slamming into her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing, rocking her hips in pace with him. He could feel it building, no longer slowly; it was electrifying him, and he gave up his meager control to let his body take over. Thrusting, gasping, he wanted to wait for her; he needed to feel her come while he was in her, and he reached down with his finger and ground against her nub. She was coiling up beneath him, ready to spring, so primitive, so wild, so very like the animals that loved her. She called out his name as the world exploded around them, and he could let go, he could erupt inside her. All her muscles within were stroking him, clamping down on him, and his voice turned harsh and guttural like the animal he was, and yes, it was true, sometimes you could feel the earth move . . .

*****

She lay with her head on his chest, listening to the beating of his heart as it began to slow down again, his breathing coming under control once more and she allowed her eyes to close in contentment. She remembered clearly that she had told him she loved him. She'd known for a long time that she did, but never thought to say the words. Judging by his instant reaction to it, she realized that he'd probably never heard the words before, not directed at him, and it saddened her to recognize that he'd been so lonely before he let her into his life. Such a tragedy for the women that missed out on his affection.

She was falling asleep, lulled by the rhythmic stroking of his hand through her hair, his arms holding her close. Their body heat was combined, and she couldn't imagine any feeling that could compare to this. She'd always been passionate; it was the gypsy way of life. There was no time to learn to repress emotions, and with the Romany language, one word could mean twenty different concepts, depending on how passionately that word was spoken. Every night, the music and dancing had commenced; it was a celebration that they'd survived another day. When it came time to make love, it was the same. There may be no tomorrow, and if you were to find yourself lying on your deathbed, what a pity it would be to have nothing but regrets and opportunities not taken.

And so she'd never learned to hold anything back. She was not promiscuous, but she was sometimes surprised that she wasn't. The sound of his voice, the panting, moaning, just hearing what she was making him feel was enough to set her off, and she knew she'd never get tired of pleasing him. And he was so quick to learn what pleased her; they both gave as good as they got, each new experience to be eagerly sought.

She knew that there was a time when he had worried about their age difference, but was now secure in his commitment to her. Wizards generally lived much longer than non-wizards, so she had every reason to believe they'd grow old together. She couldn't be happier.

After the assassination (she couldn't think of it as a war; her war had been with Malfoy, not Voldemort), Dumbledore had made some startling announcements. He'd decided to retire, and live out the rest of his days playing in the sunshine. He'd strongly recommended to Cornelius Fudge his new replacement; Professor McGonagall would be the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. She, in turn, had already started implementing new ideas. Severus was to begin teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, with the knowledge that the Death Eaters that weren't imprisoned would soon be competing for the evil hole that Voldemort's death left behind. Lupin, with the promise of an easier Wolfsbane potion soon to come his way, was screening offers from St. Mungo's for future employment.

Hermione Granger had accepted an offer to begin a teaching apprenticeship with McGonagall, and would then take over the Transfiguration curriculum completely. Severus himself was the one who suggested that Minerva offer that position to Hermione.

Tanya would continue working with Severus as well, leaving him free to put more time into Defense, and she was taking over some of Hagrid's regular duties as well. Her apprenticeship went very quickly in that field . . . it didn't hurt that the animals were eager to behave according to her every wish.

Harry and Ron had been accepted as Aurors-in-Training. They were preparing to undergo a grueling three-year training course. That reminded Tanya that Harry had asked her to meet him in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks for a going-away drink. He wanted to have a talk with her. Tanya wasn't sure what to expect from him; was this just closure? She fervently hoped he wouldn't insist on apologizing for things he'd already apologized for, especially since he had every right to feel the way he did.

She allowed herself finally to sleep, her breathing even with Severus'. In her sleep, she took hold of the medallion she'd replaced around Severus' neck, refusing even unconsciously to let him slip away from her.

*****

Harry ordered his third drink, and sternly warned himself to sip it slowly. It would do no good to appear inebriated before Tanya even arrived. He would be leaving for training in two days, and he wanted to know exactly what he was leaving behind. He still carried a small button in his pocket, rubbing it discretely now and then, as a reminder of how happy she had once made him.

She entered at the door, heading for his table with a smile on her face. It appeared that she carried no grudges against him, and for that, he was grateful. He signaled to get Rosemerta's attention and asked Tanya what she was drinking.

"Cognac, I think," she said.

Rosemerta conjured one up and Tanya sipped it with relish. "It must have been two years since I tasted one of these," she said.

"You must have started drinking very young," he said without reproof.

"I grew up drinking mead and wine," she said. "But I always liked the taste of this stuff. I always know when to quit," she added. "I never wanted to lose control of any of my senses."

He smiled at her, trying to remember what words he'd rehearsed. Now that she was here, his mind had gone blank.

"So, what's up?" she asked. "You made it sound like you had something specific on your mind."

"I really wanted to know that all the unpleasantness was behind us," he answered, mentally throwing away the rehearsed speech because it was Tanya. He could always talk to her easily. "I wanted to make sure you knew I didn't feel that way anymore. Like I thought you were wrong about your scar, and what happened to Malfoy. I wanted to make sure you knew that I feel wrong about ever feeling that way. I feel Malfoy deserved what he got; and you were right about the scar. I should have known and understood about why you kept it hidden. And when we were in that cellar with Voldemort, with the dagger dripping in your hand, it hit me that you really did fear fame. The scar would have been part of that. I understand perfectly. I agree. I think someone with your private ways shouldn't be forced into the public eye against your will. It's unfair. I think it would be like putting a unicorn on display and teaching it circus tricks."

Her eyes became bright with unshed tears. "Thank you, Harry."

"For what?" He was genuinely puzzled.

"I always harbored a hope that you really would understand. Just respecting my wishes wouldn't have been good enough. It makes me happy that you know what I feel about all that. Like you accept me that way."

"Of course I accept you," he said. "I will always admire and love the way you are. I think my life would have a gaping hole in it if I never met you."

She smiled. "I'm happy we had our time together, too," she said. "I don't regret any of it."

He took the plunge. "Do you ever wish it could be that way again?" He forced himself to look into her eyes, willing her to know exactly what he meant.

"You can never go back home, Harry," she said sadly. "What happened between us was important, I think, for both of us. But even with a Time Turner, we couldn't go back. A lifetime of change has passed between us since then. I've gone to someone else, and you have your better half out there, somewhere, waiting for you to discover her. Don't let her down by thinking about me."

That told Harry what he needed to know. He knew that her 'someone else' was Professor Snape, and he found that it didn't seem strange to him. In the last several months, Snape had lost the intimidating image Harry had known since first year, and even he could see the way Snape changed when he talked to Tanya. He was sure they'd be announcing wedding plans soon. And he found that it didn't hurt him the way he thought it would. So maybe that's why he wanted to see her today. Maybe it was just dotting an 'i' or crossing a 't'. It made it possible to get on with his life.

"Well, Ron and I are in for it, I guess. I understand it's much more difficult than anything at Hogwarts."

"Severus mentioned that even with your superior skills, you'd have your work cut out for you. He also mentioned that he hoped Ron had a back-up plan, because he's a follower, whereas an Auror should either be a leader or a lone wolf."

"He'll be okay. He'll follow me a while longer, probably. But I've seen him take over when he needs to. You should have seen him first year when we had to be chessmen. Even Snape would have been impressed."

She smiled. "He's really rather proud of the lot of you," she said. "I don't suppose I'm supposed to tell you that, but there it is. He worked you hard, and you made it through. He knows how tough he was."

Harry grinned, shaking his head in wonder. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad it was Snape teaching Potions and harassing me all these years. I needed that in order to toughen up when I have to. And although there were so many times I hated him, now all I can remember clearly is the respect and admiration I feel for him. I never knew until recent years that he was spying on Voldemort while Voldemort thought he was loyal to him. He really is a genius with things like Occlumency and Potions, isn't he?"

She nodded silently.

"And," Harry continued, "I'm glad he finally gets his position as the Defense teacher. After all he's done, and after all those years of putting up with us in Potions, it's the least they could do for him. McGonagall must have felt the same way, because that's the first change she made."

"Aye," she said, "it's the happiest I've seen him about lessons in a while. As soon as McGonagall hires his replacement who can completely take over Potions, he's only got Defense and his personal research to work on. He'll have time to relax and get away from it all from time to time."

"Together with you, you mean?"

"Of course," she answered, smiling. "He doesn't know it yet, or at least I don't think he does, but I want to plan a family. I'm not going through my entire life without children of my own."

"How do you think he'll feel about that?"

"I think he'll be shocked. I don't think he'd ever imagined that he'd someday be a father. But I also think that once he tosses the idea over in his mind, he'd agree. I don't know how much time that will take, but we have our whole lives together to plan. I'm in no rush."

By mutual consent, they rose to leave. On the road outside, the walked arm in arm back to the castle, close friends who didn't need any more words. Yes, they'd stay in touch these next years. They'd get together socially whenever possible. They'd share their problems and celebrations with each other, they'd rehash old memories occasionally. Life was good.