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UnBroken	By : OddDoll Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 6172 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 23
Friday had finally come. Severus could eat solid food again. Phoebe cooked and phoned the resort throughout the morning while Severus rested. She didn't know what he liked to eat, although he had no complaints. Usually, he ate everything she prepared and asked for more. She wanted his first real meal to be special, but after starving for so many months, she thought something simple would be best.
"Are you hungry?" she asked when he appeared in the doorway.
"Famished. I think the smell woke me."
"Do you feel up to setting the table?"
"I suppose."
She laughed as he sat down and set the table by levitating the dinnerware piece by piece.
"I guess that wand is growing on you."
"It's adequate."
There were so many dishes that they had to pass them back and forth, setting the extras on the counter.
"I have just a few house rules when it comes to my cooking."
"Oh?" He looked up with suspicion on his face as he spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate.
"You don't have to eat anything you don't like, even to be polite. However, if you complain too much about my cooking, you'll find yourself preparing your own meals."
He actually laughed. "Then I had better keep my mouth shut, because I don't know the first thing about cooking. It's no matter, though. I'm not a fussy eater."
"You're not?" That surprised her. He seemed like the type to have opinions on everything.
"No."
True to his word, he took small servings of everything -- he still could not eat a large meal -- not just his favorites as she had expected. His table manners were acceptable, but he ate so steadily that she could only watch in fascination.
"You know, Gandhi said that to a starving man, food is God."
He froze with a forkful of peas halfway to his mouth.
"What?" she asked.
"It's just...you're the last person I expected to hear quoting Gandhi."
Her cheeks burned. "I happen to have a university degree. Two of them. From two of the finest schools in the world, too. Having a wizard's education, I'm surprised you even know who he was."
Now it was his turn to blush. "Some of us take a greater interest in the world than others."
"Anyway, you haven't had a big meal in a while. You might make yourself sick. And you need to save room for dessert."
"Dessert? Can I have some now?"
She couldn't help but smile at his eagerness. "You sound like a little kid, or a teenager."
"I've always had a weakness for sweets."
"Well, I suppose you've already eaten a balanced meal." She got up and went to the cupboard where she had hidden a chocolate cake to surprise him. She cut him a slice.
Phoebe ate a forkful of food, chewing it slowly while she wondered how much she could ask him.
"What I don't understand is why they didn't feed you. It isn't logical, considering how long they kept you alive."
Severus did not look up. "It was a power struggle that got out of control," he said to his plate. "Tallinin hated me and once Filla had his stroke, he tried to eradicate me. Slowly."
Her cell phone rang, and he silently thanked whoever was calling for interrupting the awkward moment. She took the phone from the pocket of her robe.
"Phoebe Baher."
When Phoebe finished her conversation and hung up the phone, she sat looking at Severus wearing a grim expression.
"What happened?"
"Malfoy was seen talking to my secretary, but she doesn't remember it."
Phoebe slumped back into her chair. She stared blankly at the remains of the meal, dishes and crumbs scattered over the tables and counters.
"Phoebe, we expected this--" Severus began, but she interrupted him by jumping up from her chair. Her fork clattered to the floor as she covered her face with trembling hands. In seconds her whole body trembled and she gasped for breath.
"Phoebe?"
She made a keening noise and sank to the floor where she curled up on her side.
"Phoebe!" He scrambled to kneel at her side. "What is it?" Although she had held his hand several times, he hesitated before placing a hand on her upper arm. "Phoebe?" he said more gently. He pulled one hand from her face and found it wet with tears, her eyes squeezed shut. She gasped for air as if she were suffocating. "Talk to me." In a panic he summoned his wand and Apparated them to Solace, the only thing he could think of doing.
*****
It took almost a half hour for Phoebe's symptoms to fade, after which she lay limp and exhausted on a table in the emergency ward at Solace. She curled up on her side, facing where he sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs, but her eyes didn't really focus.
A panic attack. She'd had a panic attack. "You're not entirely what you seem, Phoebe, are you?" He tried to be gentle.
She shook her head and tears sprang to her eyes again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that."
"I prefer to see than not know what's going on in your head. How long have you had them?"
She'd cried herself out, but her breathing still shuddered. "Twenty years, but I haven't had one in a long, long time."
"You're under a great deal of stress right now."
She nodded. "I'm so anxious," she whispered. "All the time. I've only learned to cope with it, not make it go away. And now..." She sighed. "Now the fear's for real."
He wanted her to know that he didn't think any less of her. "It's impressive, how you manage yourself and the world around you."
"That's not the real me, what people see."
"Yes it is. It's just another facet of you. The businesswoman is real. The dominatrix is real. The anxiety is real." And he wondered how much longer she would let him witness this vulnerable side before the calm, cool woman returned.
"Thank you," she said so softly she almost mouthed the words. Her eyes came into focus on him, and they shared a look, really seeing each other for the first time. No longer just strangers thrust together, they had somehow forged a friendship.
*****
Phoebe rested for the remainder of the afternoon and then left the house shortly after a hasty dinner. Severus sat beside her on the rock by the creek that evening. A glance flicked in his direction was her only other acknowledgment of his presence. Like Phoebe, Severus stared out at the gurgling creek. The water was dark in the fading light; the colors of the surrounding foliage turning gray. Phoebe now realized the peril she faced.
Are you still with me? Somehow, the words found their way out of his mouth.
Phoebe turned to him with a small but reassuring smile. His hand rested on his thigh, and she placed hers over it, giving it a soft squeeze before letting go. If forced to describe how it made him feel, he would have to say dizzy with some emotion he couldn't identify.
"Of course I am." She leaned back, but did not turn away again. "All along, I've been reacting to things. We have no long-term plans to deal with this. I can hardly keep myself safe, let alone you or my friends or my employees. We need a plan. Tonight."
"I couldn't agree more." He looked up at the sky, which was filled with dark clouds.
"Why don't we go inside? You said we might have snow."
As they walked to the house, Phoebe said in a low voice, "She wasn't hurt." It was not quite a question, not quite a firm statement.
"A very small Obliviate would have been all that was required. I'm sure you know perfectly well that they have almost no side effects. Haven't you ever had to do one?"
"Yes, I have, and you're right," she said with more confidence. "And if she had been physically harmed, it would have shown."
"Correct."
Severus rested while Phoebe cleared the remains of their dinner. When she woke him it was dark. He suspected she had let him sleep, using the time to make more of her detailed notes, and found himself correct. A stack of yellow tablets rested on the table. He sat down across from them.
"I can't be the first witch to be in this position," she said as she lowered herself into her chair. "How do others deal with it?"
"They go as far away as they can, change their names, and hide."
"Come on, Severus."
"We could part company." The words came out of his mouth feeling like he had wrenched them straight out of his heart. It was not just that he wanted Phoebe for her own sake, but for what she represented. Hope, companionship, a tether to the outside world.
"If I went off without you, and you truly didn't know where I was, you might be able to convince her of that."
"How would she question me?"
"You would have to do it on your terms." Although he hated every word, he realized he was onto something, and he spoke with authority. "Have your guards with you, invite her in. Have your own truth potion ready."
She looked as stricken as he felt. "Severus, this whole business has been about me not abandoning you."
"Then I suppose I'll have to abandon you, for your safety." He thought for a second about what motivated her, and said, "And the safety of your friends and employees."
"Stop. Okay? Just stop being noble. I don't know you well, but just from what you went through for the last year, you deserve more than to be tossed out into the world all alone."
"Phoebe, I've never been one to need much companionship..." His voice trailed away. He had changed in some fundamental way. The old Severus would have never followed her out into the cold. The old Severus had been quite content to sit alone in his dungeon for days at a time.
And then there was the question of where to go. His life at Hogwarts had never been ideal, but it had been secure and comfortable. It was shameful, really, that he had wasted so much time resenting his circumstances, so much so that he never allowed himself to be happy.
Phoebe must have seen his doubts, because she said, "Anyway, I'm sure this is personal with Malfoy now. I doubt she'd let me off easily, even if I could prove I didn't know where you are. Let's talk about other things we can do. I will defer to your judgment."
For some reason, having that option out in the open made everything else easier. He had not been in agreement with her handling of the situation, but had let her run things because he had been in no position to complain due to both his illness and his gratitude.
"There has to be a way, Severus. I can't just abandon my life." A pained expression crossed her face as she turned away to look into the darkness beyond the window. When she turned back a moment later, the expression was gone. "Let's take one thing at a time. What else is there to protect me?"
"I want to personally hire your guards, and they will work for you, not an agency." He looked at her critically. She was the kind of woman who inspired tremendous loyalty from all those who knew her.
"They will be more loyal to you if they are your own employees, and they may be working for you for a very long time, anyway."
"Okay, that makes sense." She smiled and visibly relaxed. "Good. What do we do right now?"
"Let's watch the television. Anything. We've had enough worry for one day."
She rose and placed a light hand on his shoulder. "You are very wise, Severus."
*****
"Severus," she said while looking at the television a while later, "does Voldemort himself want you?"
Severus grimaced and said through clenched teeth, "Never say that name."
Her far-away, thoughtful expression disappeared. "Why?"
"It is more than just a name. He created it, and in doing so, built power into it. It is like Old Magic. The more it's used, particularly with fear or awe, the more his power grows."
She furrowed her brows into a skeptical expression. "That sounds like a bunch of hooey."
"There is much you don't understand--"
"Oh, don't patronize me, Severus Snape. You think I've never seen evil people? In my profession?" She slammed her mug down on the table. A bit of cocoa sloshed over the side, but she ignored it. "You implied that Malfoy had to find you to save her reputation with Vol-de-mort. That says to me that it is not just Malfoy who wants you, but Vol-de-mort himself."
Severus stared at her in shock. She was being deliberately unpleasant, and he didn't know what to make of it. Before this, he wouldn't have thought her capable of it.
"Tell me the truth, Severus," she said in a softer voice. "Tell me everything."
"I can't," he said with as much frank apology as his untrained voice could manage.
Phoebe leaned back in her chair and stared at a spot over the television. Severus watched her as she once again came to grips with her situation. Phoebe frustrated him. She clearly possessed the intellect to understand her circumstances, and make logical leaps such as the one she just made, but the true gravity of her situation never seemed to break through the shell of middle class naivete that she wore.
With his returning health, Severus regained some of his backbone. He decided it was time to start using it.
"Phoebe, you should return to Britain with me." She stiffened and turned to stare at him. "Your choices are to run and hide or become a prisoner in your own home."
She opened her mouth in protest, "But--"
"Yes, you can hire guards, but every time you leave your residence you will be at risk of attack. And even if I do leave you, I can't say for certain that Malfoy will not try to extract some revenge."
He could see her resistance hardening as her arms folded over her chest and her jaw settled into a firm, hard angle.
"In Britain, I'll be in my territory, and being the most educated and skilled of the two of us, I'll be better able to defend us both, once I'm in full health. You'll be running for a long time, Phoebe, either from Malfoy or whoever the Dark Lord sends. You must come to terms with that, and soon."
"This cannot be happening to me. These things don't happen."
Severus's frustration boiled into anger. "Phoebe, you're an intelligent woman. Why are you being so deliberately obtuse? You spoke with Sylvester and your contact in Diagon Alley. These things do happen. They are happening to you, and if you don't pull your muddled head out of the sand soon, you're going to get your arse cursed right off."
She bent forward at the waist, burying her face in her hands. "No," she wailed. "No."
She looked up at Severus, her stance suddenly hardening. "No. I've worked too hard and sacrificed too much to make the life I have now. I will not abandon it." She got up out of the chair and stood over him. "You can stay or go, but I am not leaving my home."
"Phoebe, don't be an idiot!" he shouted after her as she stalked from the room. Her only answer was the slam of her bedroom door.
*****
The old Severus had been rather like a snake charmer's cobra. If handled properly, he served well, twisting and turning to the tune his master piped; if handled improperly, he was a dangerous predator, viciously striking out at the nearest hand. Words had been the fangs, and bitter frustration and anger his venom.
The new Severus still possessed his fangs, but the poison had dried up. His anger at Phoebe dissipated shortly after she left the room. This is what he had learned while laying in the dark of his small prison: to wait and accept whatever time brought.
The fire he had laid died down, and his heartbeat returned to a steady rhythm. He watched the embers and the little flames that licked the edges of the half-burned wood while his mind searched for strategies for handling Phoebe. Severus didn't quite understand what she was clinging to. Although she seemed to have close friends, she had no husband or romantic attachments.
He considered the things she chose to carry with her: music, quilts, small sewing projects that she worked during the evening hours when her mind was exhausted by the endless phone calls to the resort. One or two books had appeared over the course of the week as well. What appeared to be a detective novel and a biography of some sort. Things from home, he realized, and that was where the problem lay. Severus had only seen a small part of it during their brief stop there the week before. Thinking back, he recalled an elegant simplicity and a warm, inviting atmosphere. Could her home itself be the problem? If it were, he would have to find ways to break its hold on her.
As the fire died, the room grew chilly. Just as he was considering whether to put on another log or just go to bed, Phoebe's door opened. She came out carrying two quilts, one of which she laid over him with a half smile.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. More cocoa?"
He considered it a peace offering and chose to accept. It would make her feel better. She returned from the kitchen and curled up in her recliner, her legs tucked beneath her.
"I keep forgetting that we're in this together."
The cocoa had tiny marshmallows floating on its surface. He swirled the cup and watched them bob as the melted edges twisted into spiral patterns. Then he asked himself when he had learned to be fascinated with such trivial things, but didn't need to answer. Everything began and ended for him at Felicity House. His mind cast about for a way to start the conversation that he knew they must have. Severus looked up from the cocoa to see her amber eyes on his face.
"What would be the hardest thing for you to leave behind?"
Phoebe's brows knit together as she gave him a look that said, 'I know where this is going.' She lowered her cup to the end table and sat back in her chair. Severus listened to the crackle of the fire and the distant hum of the Muggle refrigerator in the kitchen. Aside from those small sounds, the house was very quiet. He let the silence linger, allowing her time to gather her thoughts. She rose and put more wood on the fire, taking care with the way she layered the small and large pieces, so that they would burn well. When she returned to her chair, she tucked her feet beneath herself again and pulled the quilt around her body.
"I have been thinking about this, Severus. You have to understand where I come from." The fire popped and sizzled, sending a fountain of sparks up the chimney. They both started at the sound. Phoebe rose, taking her quilt with her. A small sofa bridged the space between them, facing the fire. She curled up in the corner of it that was closest to him.
"The low light hurts my eyes after a while." She turned on a small lamp that rested on the table between them. She pushed it to the back edge of the table, to keep the glare out of their eyes, before dragging the quilt over herself. Her face lit up before him, white against the darkness of the room.
Phoebe was in a mood to talk, Severus thought. He would let her. The more he knew about her personal life, the easier it would be to manipulate her into doing what he wanted her to do. He felt a troubled pang at that thought, but it passed. While he would say no more tonight, the subject was not closed.
"Tell me."
She took a sip of cocoa, stared at it, moving the cup in circles. "I have panic attacks."
"I am aware of that."
"I've built my whole world around them. My world is safe, familiar and comfortable. I have a routine, when I'm home, and I try to spend as much time in Monterey as I can. I don't travel nearly as much as I could."
"Wouldn't being the boss give you more reason for anxiety?"
"You'd think it would, and sometimes the pressure does, but mostly it allows me to order the world the way I need it. I can leave during the day if stress becomes too much. I can delegate a lot. I can avoid the dominatrix work if I want."
"You avoid it?"
"I hardly ever work with clients anymore, and as of two weeks ago, I've officially quit for good."
He filed this away, but didn't comment.
"I haven't had a panic attack in nine years. All the phantom pains, the insomnia, the cold sweats, I conquered them by ruthlessly eliminating everything in my life I could not control. And medication. Medication really did the trick. I have an appointment with my doctor this week that I really must make.
"This..." She gestured at the room around them. "This is threatening to make that all fly apart. I've regressed years in just the last two weeks. Plus...I love my home and my resort. I put so much work into getting them into the beautiful places they are now."
Some part of Severus knew that to achieve what he wanted -- a connection, a relationship with another human being who cared about him -- he had to change his cruel, malicious ways. He felt a simmering anger at his inability to make her see, loosening his tongue, making him want to shout at her until she did the things he knew she must. But Phoebe represented something he wanted so deeply, he forced himself to be gentle when he said, "Phoebe, it's either flee or die."
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UnBroken