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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 18697 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Worst Fault You Have is to be in Love, part 2

"Hello, hello!"

Celia blinked and brought her thoughts back to the present as she felt Jaques tugging at the grape that she was still holding in her hand.

"Sorry, dear," she laughed, holding out the fruit so that he could take it more easily in his mouth. "Yes, you may have another one." The bird took the delicacy and set it on the table, beginning to peck at it with relish. "And," she continued, her voice dropping down to a warning tone, "You had better be on your best behavior tonight when Snape comes."

The bird looked up from its labors and, tilting his head to the side, stared at her for a moment. "Sneaky Snape, Sneaky Snape," he screeched.

"Naughty Jaques!" reprimanded Celia, shaking her head. "If that's the sort of mood you're going to be in tonight, you had best get to your cage right now," she said, pointing her finger in that direction.

The bird nodded his head, picked up the grape and flew over to his cage, gliding easily in through the open door and dropping down to the floor of his enclosure to finish off his treat. Celia followed and clanged the door shut, her laughter a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Snape had ample cause to regret his purchase of the talkative parrot. For the bird had quickly shown himself to be excessively protective and jealous of Celia and whenever Severus visited, he was always behaved in the most atrocious manner; squawking and fluttering about in a most obnoxious way, once even daring to make a dive at the wizard's head. The worst had been the day that Snape had been complaining about the Hogwarts students.

******

"Oh, don't think I don't know each and every epithet that is hurled at me" he had been grumbling. "I am quite aware that I am referred to as 'that hook-nosed bastard', 'an overgrown bat' and 'the greasy-haired git' behind my back!"

And at that, Jaques had begun to fly around his head, cheerfully repeating: "Greasy-haired git, greasy-haired git, gr-"

"Silence!" Snape had thundered.

"Silence!" Jaques had squawked back, continuing to circle around him. The look on Snape's face was absolutely priceless, and she found herself unable to keep from giggling as she watched him glare at the presumptuous parrot. But she found herself gasping in horror as she saw him remove his wand from his pocket and take careful aim.

"Insolent bird," murmured Snape, between his clenched teeth.

"Don't hurt him!" she had shouted.

Snape threw her a withering glance before returning his attention to Jaques. To Celia's dismay, she had been unable to intervene before Snape had raised his wand and chanted a short incantation. Jaques had fallen like a stone to the floor. But, to her relief, it proved to be merely a temporary immobilizing spell, and the muting charm which had accompanied it also wore off after a few days.

After that, they had arrived at an uneasy truce, with Jaques ignoring the wizard for the most part and Snape confining his retaliation to throwing a dark cloth over his cage whenever he reached the end of his own (quite limited) patience. Celia rather suspected that the cloth that Snape had conjured out of thin air was also enchanted with a noise-absorbing spell, for once it was in place, there was never another squawk or squeak to be heard from beneath it. Which was just as well, she supposed. She could only imagine how disastrous it would have been should Jaques have ever decided to start making a racket while they were in the midst of lovemaking. In that case, he might have ended up sautéed rather than silenced.

******

Well, speaking of cooking poultry, she reminded herself, it was probably time that she began on dinner. She headed back towards the kitchen.

After that first calamitous night, she had been loathe to attempt any more cooking. But she had finally built up her courage enough to attempt a simple meal. If he had not quite complimented her upon the effort, at least he had not been tempted to toss it into the garbage. And with the help of a few well-chosen cookbooks and a few surreptitious gourmet cooking lessons, she had gradually managed to earn his respect as a cook, to the point where they now shared the cooking duties. Although she noted, with a small amount of malicious humor, that Snape definitely continued to rely upon magic to perform the more labor-intensive aspects of food preparation.

She started to hum a little tune as she removed the chicken breasts from the refrigerator and began to pound them into thin strips. Chicken Cordon Bleu was a dish that she had managed to surprise him with a few months ago, and she had decided to attempt it again. Along with a simple rice pilaf, asparagus and a large green salad, it would suffice for dinner.

Having put the chicken into the oven to cook and finished with the preparation of the other dishes, she headed back to the living room and perused the stack of CD's. Although they had attended many more operas over the past few years and she had enjoyed them all immensely, 'Butterfly' remained her favorite. She had indulged herself in buying not one but two complete recordings of the work, and for a moment her hand paused over one of the versions.

'Butterfly' was so special to her that she tried not to have it playing when Snape visited unless there was a special occasion they were celebrating. She rather thought that his visit in a month from now, after she had taken her Bookkeeping examination, would qualify as such, so she might as well save it for then. Shrugging her shoulders, she chose a Maria Callas collection to play instead.

As she straightened up, she wondered if he had ever discovered the playbill and ticket stubs that she had saved from that first night. Not that she was trying to hide them, of course. They were simply tucked away with her jewelry in the box that sat upon her dresser. Yet he had never commented upon them. And he did have an unfortunate habit of going through her things.

She shivered slightly, drawing her arms around her as she remembered how angry he had been about the pills.

*******

The first time, of course, she had left the pills out upon the bathroom counter on purpose, rather hoping that he would see and comment upon them. She had been so proud of herself, feeling that he would fully approve of how well-acclimated she was becoming to the Muggle world.

"What are these?" he asked, scowling down at the package in his hand as he emerged from the bathroom.

She had been seated on the chair at her vanity, brushing her hair. "Oh, those are my new pills," she had answered, lightly.

"Are you ill?" he asked, his tone more dubious than concerned.

"No," she had laughed, putting down the brush. "Not those kind of pills. These are contraceptive pills."

"Contraceptive...pills?" The pause between the two words had been unnaturally long, but she hadn't realized it at the time.

"Yes," she replied, turning to smile at him, "I got them from the doctor when I had that appointment two weeks ago."

He sniffed contemptuously. "My dear girl, do you really think a Muggle medicine is capable of immobilizing the sperm of a wizard?" he asked, in a smug and superior tone of voice, as he tossed the packet onto the counter.

"Well, I'm afraid, professor," she retorted, "That it has nothing to do with you or your sperm. This is simply a combination of hormones that prevents me from ovulating." She shook her head in exasperation. "Your magical little sperm can wriggle wherever they like, without me worrying about them." Tilting her head to the side, she continued, in a mocking tone: "Since they're yours, they're no doubt capable of swimming across the Channel."

"No doubt," he replied, icily. "And you will not use that tone of voice with me," he warned as his voice dipped down into a lower register.

For a moment, Celia wondered if he was truly insulted by her words or if he simply detested having to admit that he had been ignorant about the methods by which Muggles prevented procreation.

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly. Deciding that she should try and defuse the situation, she bit down upon her lip and inquired: "Will that be five points from Hufflepuff?"

She held her breath, hoping that he would find her remark amusing. To her relief, she detected a slight twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Ten," he growled, before allowing a large and lascivious leer to appear upon his face. "And a detention," he added, pointing imperiously towards the bed.

"Yes, sir," she said again as she sighed in mock despair and arose from her chair to trudge into the other room. Within a few minutes she was flat on her back and tied down to the bedposts as he pumped energetically into her, giving her ample reason to momentarily dismiss the cause of the argument from her mind. But afterwards, as she made her way back to the bathroom, she noticed that the packet had been tossed into the trash bin.

"Why did you throw them away?" she asked quietly, turning back to look at him as he lay on the bed.

He shrugged his shoulders and stared up at the ceiling. "I see no reason for you to waste money upon such an unnecessary item," he remarked, "Since I provide you with a perfectly efficacious Contraceptive Potion," he growled, turning his back toward her as he moved onto his side.

She had briefly considered arguing with him. But, in the end, she had contented herself with fishing the pills out of the trash after he had left and hiding them. She continued to drink the potions that he prepared for her, of course, but she made sure to swallow the pills as well.

That had solved the problem for almost a year. Until the day that she had stepped out of the shower to see him standing at the door of the bathroom, his face rigid with rage and the packet of pills crushed within his white-knuckled fist.

"I see you have been deceiving me," he said, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

"No," she protested, shaking her head.

"No?" he repeated, his tone shrill and angry. "Then why, may I ask, were these hidden in your underwear drawer?"

She felt her face redden. "Well, why the hell were you looking in my underwear drawer?" she retorted.

An ugly smile suddenly appeared upon his face. "Because, Mademoiselle, I have every right to do so. Might I remind you-" he enunciated, spitting out each syllable with especial care as he slowly advanced upon her.

She almost slipped as she backed away from him on the wet floor, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she was forced up against the cold tile.

"Have I not paid for each and every article of clothing that is in that drawer? In fact, have I not paid for the drawer itself? To put it bluntly, my dear," he sneered, reaching out to grab her by the chin, "I happen to own everything in this flat-including you."

He tightened his grip and jerked her chin downward so that she was forced to look at the pills. "As such, when I have given you explicit instructions not to waste my money upon this ridiculous, redundant medication, I expect your obedience."

He suddenly released his hold and stepped back, crossing his arms. "Now then," he said, talking in a deep breath, "How many more of these packets do you have hidden around the flat?"

For just a moment she considered lying and telling him that it was the only one she had. But, looking at the unnatural glow in his eyes, she decided in the end that it was best not to risk angering him further. "A few," she replied, quietly.

"Get them," he hissed.

Holding her towel around her, she had complied with his order, gathering up the pills from the various hiding places around the apartment as quickly as possible.

"Is that all?" he asked, as she reentered the bathroom.

"Yes," she replied, holding the packages out to him.

"Good," he retorted, but ignoring her outstretched hand. "Now this time," he said, nodding in the direction of the toilet, "We shall dispose of them properly."

"This is ridiculous!" she had muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, looking thunder-struck.

"This is ridiculous," she repeated. "As long as it works, why does it matter to you how I prevent myself from getting pregnant?"

She would not have thought that it was possible, but his pale skin grew even whiter as he continued to glare at her. "It matters because I have specifically forbidden you to use these," he replied.

"Besides," she added, her voice taking on a pleading tone, "That's not the only reason I use them. They also make my menstrual cycle much more regular and shorter and-"

"SILENCE!" he had screamed, that single word reverberating loudly within the small, tiled chamber. It was several minutes before he spoke again.

"I expect you to use the contraception that I provide for you," he said, his voice now so low that she could barely hear him. "You will dispose of these pills immediately," he repeated, "Or you will get out of my sight forever."

She had stood there, wavering, for a moment, blinking back her tears. Part of her was so scared that she was quite willing to vacate the premises. But, on the other hand-

She stared at him for a long time, for the first time noticing how many new lines had been etched into his face during the past year, how many of the old ones were deeper than ever and how many gray hairs had appeared upon his head. And even though she knew that he was furious with her at the moment, she could detect something else in his eyes. There was pain and fear in them as well.

She suddenly realized why he was so adamant that she be dependent upon him for her birth control. Part of the reason was because he had always been jealous of her, and fearful that she would betray him. If she relied upon his potion, he would know that she was faithful to him. The Muggle form of contraception, on the other hand, gave her the freedom and luxury of sleeping with whomever she wanted. But more than that, the pills were physical, tangible proof that she was growing away from him, capable of living her own life and discovering things for herself. And as much as he told her that he was educating her and preparing her to support herself, another part of him wanted her to be dependent upon him forever.

She had turned and, one at a time, emptied the pills into the toilet.

*******

She had felt rather noble and proud, until her periods returned with renewed force and vengeance, and she found herself longing for the days when the medication had rendered them much more predictable and far less painful and heavy. She had agonized over the decision for weeks, but had finally renewed her prescription. She had, however, managed to find an excellent hiding place for them, a spot she knew that Snape would never be tempted to explore.

She smiled as she heard Jaques croak out "Sneaky Snape!" again.

The pills were now hidden in the parrot's birdseed bag.

*******

She walked towards the Jaques' cage and clucked her tongue in greeting.

"Hello, hello!" said the bird, bobbing up and down excitedly again.

"If you promise to behave yourself, you can stay out of your cage until Severus comes," she offered.

Jaques began to dance up and down his perch again. "Good boy, good boy," he promised.

"All right," she laughed, opening up the door again, "But, I'm going to get some studying done. You go talk to Miranda for awhile," she said.

The parrot whistled happily and flew out of the door, heading in the direction of the vanity. It had turned out that the mirror (which she had finally decided needed a name and had been inspired by her Shakespearean readings to bestow the name 'Miranda' upon it) and the bird very happily conversed with each other for hours on end, a fact that had initially relieved Celia of the guilt she felt at leaving them alone for so many hours of the day. Conversely, she felt a twinge of jealousy at the fact that she feared Miranda had taught Jaques more words than she had, and had to confess she felt just a tiny bit put out over the fact that they could get along so well without her.

But she smiled as she heard them talking to each other and spent a few more minutes checking on the dinner before heading back to her books. As she sat down at the table and reached for her notebook, a list containing the names of her fellow classmates fell out of the binder, and she stared down at the name of Curtis Belden for a moment, goose bumps spreading over her skin as she remembered how horribly angry Snape had been on that day.

*******

It had been her the first major examination of the second year of her training, and she had agonized over it, spending the whole night studying for it despite the fact that she had found the material very easy to learn. She had broken out in a cold sweat, her hands shaking as the papers were handed out, and found herself almost laughing in relief as she finished the test in record time. Then, as she glanced around and realized that no one else was close to finishing, she had panicked again, wondering if she had misread the questions and gotten everything horribly wrong. She had ended up going over the test three times before finally getting the courage to hand it in, by which time the bell was ringing and the rest of her classmates were reluctantly turning in their own papers.

Someone had suggested that they go out to a pub to celebrate and she had happily agreed. As the drinks were served, one after another of her comrades confessed that they hadn't been able to answer question two, or nine or thirteen, etc.. And she had found, to her surprise, that she was able to come up with the answer to all of them. Judging by the astonished expressions and grudging looks of admiration from the rest of them, she felt more and more confident that she had managed to ace the difficult exam.

All of a sudden, it seemed that everyone else had disappeared and the only ones left at the table were herself and Curtis. When he offered to refresh her drink, she had laughingly declined and prepared to depart, only to find herself sitting back down at the table as the young man smiled at her shyly and began to talk seriously to her.

He really respected her, he said. He knew that she was, well, a little bit older than some of their fellow students (Celia noticed that he blushed when he said this), but, after all, so was he. He had put off his schooling while working in the family grocery store after his father had passed away, knowing that his mother needed the help and that his little brother would be anxious to take over the business for himself when he was old enough. That time had finally come, and now, here he was, finally beginning to pursue his dream of bookkeeping. Not that he intended to stop there, of course, he admitted. No, he fully intended to become a full accountant-someday.

She had found herself drawn to the pleasant, soft-spoken man. Not attracted to him, mind you, but finding him a pleasant, somewhat more mature companion than most of her fellow students. It was not until she she glanced down at her watch and saw that it was nearly nine o'clock that she declared she simply must be going.

He had stood as she arose from her chair and extended his hand, which she had taken gladly. And then, he had asked, in a low, quavering voice, if by any chance she would like to go out with him sometime.

For a moment, she had frozen in place, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and unhappy. "No," she had replied, "I am-" she paused and tried to find the words to decline the invitation without going into the details of her decidedly unusual living arrangements.

"Oh, no problem," he had said, blushing furiously again as he shook his head. "I kind of assumed that you were seeing somebody, but I just had to ask," he said, turning away.

She had meant to go directly to her apartment, But, at the last minute, she turned the opposite way and headed towards the library, spending several hours researching a paper that wasn't due for a month. The thought of returning to the empty apartment, even though Jaques and Miranda would be waiting, was too much for her to bear at the moment. By the time she was finally climbing the stairs to her flat, it was nearly midnight.

She had known immediately that something was awry. She had been puzzled not to her Jaques' excited squawks as she walked in the door. Pausing to flip on the lights, she had turned back to see that Snape was sitting on the couch, a nearly-empty bottle of Cognac sitting on the table before him.

"Severus!" she had exclaimed, her eyes moving towards Jaques' cage and seeing that it was already covered. "I mean, sir," she corrected, as she shrugged off her coat and hung it upon the rack. "This is a surprise," she said, as she walked toward him.

His black eyes flicked over her coldly as he struggled to stand up and she saw, to her horror, that he was more than a little tipsy. "So I gather," he replied, mockingly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling her blood turn to ice as she saw the flash of anger in his eyes.

"Wrong?" he replied, suppressing a hiccup. "Nothing's wrong, dear," he sneered. "Can't your loving paramour pay a visit to his little whore whenever he wants?"

"Of course you can," she answered, feeling a shiver run through her. "It's just that I wasn't expecting you tonight and-"

"No, you were not expecting me, were you?" he taunted, swaying just a bit as he moved closer to her.

She stared up at him in fear as he placed an iron-like grip upon her shoulder "Here I was, concerned about you, wanting to celebrate your first examination of the year-". He paused and she shuddered involuntarily as his alcohol-tinged breath wafted over her face. "And what do I find?" he asked, his voice dipping down to a dangerous level.

"You were already having your own little party, weren't you?" he whispered, removing his hand and stepping back to glare down at her.

She suddenly realized what he was upset about. "You followed me to the pub," she said, her voice oddly devoid of any emotion.

He hiccuped again. "You are so clever, aren't you?" he chided. "You know all the answers, you do."

"A group of us went out-"

"YES!" he screamed. "A group of you went out, but there wasn't a group of you at the end, was there?"

"No, but it wasn't a date!" she protested.

He laughed a cold, bitter laugh and held out the long, thin index finger of his right hand before her face. "The first condition, the very first that I told you when I offered to provide for you was that you would not seek out male companionship."

"I didn't seek him out," she objected. And then she raised her hands to her mouth, horrified as she saw him remove his wand from his cloak.

"Ha!" he replied.

There was a blinding flash of light, and when she dared to open her eyes, she saw that her fingernails had been transformed into crimson talons, and she felt herself tottering upon high heels of a ridiculous height. She felt the strangely familiar sensation of the skin-tight red dress and, raising a quavering hand to her hair she groaned, knowing even without looking into a mirror that he had transformed her into the cheap, platinum-haired little trollop that had plied her trade up and down the sidewalks of Knockturn Alley.

"Do not ever forget," she heard him say, his voice suddenly cold and steady, "That I found you in the gutter."

She sobbed involuntarily for a moment, and then felt his fingers winding through her hair and jerking her head back, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him.

"And I can throw you back there anytime that I choose," he hissed.

"No," she moaned.

He released her but she shuddered again as she heard him laugh. "By the way, Mademoiselle, what are your rates again?"

"What?" she said, staring at him.

"Oh, yes, I remember now," he crowed. "Ten Galleons for a quick little fuck, and forty if you spend the whole night in a whore's bed. That's right, isn't it?"

"Please-", she begged.

"SILENCE!" he screamed, his hand reaching for his wand again.

She closed her eyes, expecting him to curse her. But instead, she felt her clothes disappear and she shivered as she tried to wrap her arms around herself.

"Of course, for that forty Galleon fee, you did supply me with a great deal of amusement that first night," he said, his smile broad and cruel. "Let's see, you began by sucking me off-though of course you did spill some, did you not?"

She gasped as she felt his fingers wrap around her chin and pull her face upward again.

"Do you want to lick the cum off of my boots again, my little tart?" he asked.

"No," she said, feeling tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.

"No?" he replied, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, I see," he said, narrowing his eyes, "Perhaps you prefer to get into your little school uniform and show me your tits again whilst you masturbate."

"Stop it," she begged.

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "Or do you merely wish for me to tie you up and give you a spanking again?"

She put her hands over her ears and fell down upon her knees, whimpering.

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up again. "Listen to me," he warned, "And open your eyes."

She forced herself to do as he asked and found herself being pushed forward. To her shock, she found herself staring down into Curtis' eyes. The man was sitting, bound and gagged, on the floor behind the sofa, and he had been listening to every word.

"Oh, dear gods," she whispered.

"I will obliviate him," he said, putting his hands upon her shoulders and turning her around to face him again. "And I shall restore you to your present appearance," he added, his eyes glinting malevolently. "But if you ever betray me again, I will send you back to the street without warning. And I will make sure that he knows exactly what you are," he added, pointing his wand at Curtis.

There had been another flash of light, and the next thing she knew she had awakened in her bed. She was still naked, but her hair was once again long and black. And when she saw Curtis the next day, he had greeted her in a friendly fashion, obviously having no memory of the horrendous episode that he had witnessed.

*******

She didn't know how long it had been buzzing, but the sound of the kitchen timer going off finally penetrated through the haze of her reverie, and she pushed her books to the side as she stood up and retraced her steps to the kitchen.

She peeked into the oven and nodded in satisfaction as she perused the baking chicken breasts. Closing the door, she leaned over to turn the temperature down. She hesitated for a moment and then retrieved the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and opened it, pouring herself a small glass. She paused momentarily to start the CD playing again before heading in the direction of the bedroom.

Tossing off the jeans and jumper that she had worn to school, she selected one of her casual dresses and a pair of low-heeled pumps and sat down at the vanity, [pulling out the band that had held her ponytail in place. Jacques was perched upon the frame of the mirror and he clucked in approval and said, "Pretty Rosalind," as she began to brush and style her hair. She decided to pull the sides back and secure it with one the emerald ribbons this evening. And then she refreshed her makeup, being careful not to overdo the shadow, mascara or lipstick.

"You look lovely, dear," said Miranda.

Celia laughed as she tossed the tube of lipstick to the side. "You always say that," she teased.

"You always are," was the prompt reply.

"Lovely!" hooted Jaques.

"You back to your cage before Severus gets here," she said, pointing her finger at the parrot.

"He's late again, isn't he dear?" murmured the mirror as the parrot flapped his wing and flew back to the other room.

"No more than usual," she replied, arising from her chair.

Returning to the living room, she had barely drawn the cover over Jaques' cage when she heard the locks open and Snape stride through the door.
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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost