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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 24
At seven p.m. the following night, Phoebe slid her arm around Severus's shoulders. She had called Michael on her cell phone less than five minutes before, to make sure he and Steve were available and to give them a tiny warning of their arrival.
"Are you ready?" she asked softly.
"Yes."
They Apparated into a tiny, private courtyard directly outside Steve and Michael's front door. High walls of lacy cement brick, draped with jasmine vines, provided enough privacy for their wizarding friends to come and go without alerting their Muggle neighbors. Phoebe loved this tiny, jasmine-scented haven, and sadness welled up in her chest at the thought of leaving it behind. Tonight would be an ordeal.
"Phoebe!" Michael said as he came out to wrap her in a bear hug. "I've been so worried about you."
"It's only been a week," she said with a gasp as the air was expelled from her lungs. She withstood the hug, returning it weakly.
"Are we okay?" he whispered before letting her go.
She couldn't meet his eyes and only turned away.
Steve stood in the doorway, blocking the light. "Can we come in?"
She gave Steve a kiss on the cheek as she entered the men's small living room with Severus right behind. He withstood the kiss and gave her a brief hug that surprised her.
"I've been worried, too."
She glanced back at Severus, to make sure he followed, and stepped into Michael and Steve's simple, monkish living area. The only things to brighten the room were large canvases of some of Michael's best artwork. Street scenes, mostly, colorful and filled with people. She could see Severus's gaze circle the room and linger on one particular depiction of male prostitutes on a street corner. Severus turned from the paintings and removed his coat. His eyes caught Phoebe's, but she couldn't discern his reaction.
Phoebe decided she should make introductions before she started to bawl.
"Michael Smith, Steve Ripken, meet Severus Snape."
Michael thrust out his hand in a friendly way, but his 'how do you do' was more reserved than usual. Severus shook it silently, with a nod of his head. Blue eyes stared into black ones as the two men tried to decide what the other was about without being so rude as to ask.
Steve, on the other hand, stared for a moment before his gaze wandered into empty space and his brows knit in concentration.
"I know who you are. You're that professor from Hogwarts. The one who got all the children out after the siege." He glanced over at Phoebe. "How'd you manage this?"
"It's a long story. Why don't we go into the kitchen?" Severus's gaze returned to the paintings. Phoebe put her hand on his elbow, purposefully guiding him toward the kitchen and away from Michael's artwork. She hung back once he was through the swinging door and pinched Michael's sleeve.
"Hold on a sec'.".
"What, Pheebs?"
"Could you make sure that he doesn't see your studio tonight? Some of your work might upset him." Michael's artwork, openly displayed in the second bedroom that served as his studio, ran toward the erotic. He often painted scenes involving his favorite sexual kink -- bondage.
Michael frowned, his lips drawing into a severe line of displeasure. "A homophobe? I don't care if it offends him. He can take--"
"Easy, Michael. I don't know what his opinions are, but he, um, had a really bad experience with a couple of sadists recently. He was held against his will."
"Oh." He narrowed his eyes at her, probably hoping for more. When she didn't budge, he said, "Well, I'll just go shut the door."
They sat at the kitchen table as Steve made coffee and opened bottles of beer. Michael came in and took a chair to Severus's left.
"What's this about Hogwarts?" Michael asked.
"Don't you remember about a year-and-a-half ago, when Hogwarts fell?" Phoebe said. "He got all the children out before the Death Eaters came in."
Michael wore a look of vague recollection. "I remember people talking about something with brooms."
"Really, Michael, you've got to start reading the paper once in a while."
"I'm an artist, I'm above involving myself in politics."
"You manage a shoe store," Steve said derisively from where he stood by the stove.
"Actually, that's one of the reasons I'm here," Phoebe said. She glanced from Michael to Steve and back again. "I need someone to take over and supervise the entertainment side of the resort for a while."
Michael might have been selfish, but he wasn't stupid. "That's what you were so upset about the other night."
"I'll probably have to go away."
He jerked his thumb toward Severus. "Because of this guy."
Severus watched her, and although his face was as cold and expressionless as usual, it was the way he watched her that said everything. "This is not his fault. I found him, badly injured, and promised to take care of him. I intend to keep that promise." She met Severus's gaze and he lowered his eyes.
"Phoebe," Michael groaned. "Christ. You don't have to be responsible for everyone."
"Shut it, Michael." She changed the subject to get it back on track. "You would get a suite on the grounds. Steve could floo to Gringott's every morning."
"I'm in," Michael said. "Anything would be better than looking at ugly feet all day."
"He wouldn't have to actually work with clients? Right?" Steve asked. He served their beverages and sat opposite Michael.
"That's right. I haven't really worked with clients for years, except for the old-timers, and even most of those I've passed on to my employees."
Severus listened with interest. It seemed that Phoebe was more of a businesswoman, after all.
"I would have given it up altogether, really, but there are about a half dozen people who've been with me for over fifteen years, and some of them joined the resort early on, when we needed all the help we could get. It's been hard to say no to the ones who were so loyal all along." She looked around at their faces. "But I'm done now."
Steve smiled. "Well, that would be good. I really don't want him to get back into the business."
"No, he doesn't have to. What I need is more of a manager who is familiar with the nuances of the sex trade. Now, about the living arrangements and salary..."
Severus sat back and quietly listened as they discussed the job and made their plans.
Phoebe visibly relaxed as they chatted, but he noticed that she didn't smile when the other men did. Once her hand reached out to touch Michael's forearm, seemingly of its own accord, before she drew it back. He wondered about that. Beneath the cool exterior, she seemed to be an affectionate sort of woman. The first time she had touched his hand, he had been too sick to think much of it, but since then she had done it several times. At first it left him rattled; unused to gentle touch, he didn't know how to feel or react. She did it so casually, he knew it must mean little to her, but to Severus...it had begun to matter. He had begun to crave this small sign that another human being cared.
After a while they seemed to realize that Severus had not spoken, and fell silent.
"So," Steve said to fill the awkward moment, "you're the Hero of Hogwarts."
Severus winced. "Please do not call me that."
Steve was a fair-skinned man, the kind whose paleness was emphasized by dark hair and eyes as blue as the sky in June. He naturally wore a healthy blush in his cheeks and now it turned crimson.
"I'm sorry. I just assumed it was something you'd be proud of."
Severus saw the men exchange nervous glances and then looked at Phoebe, who simply looked back, amused. Two out of three isn't too bad.
"How did you meet each other?" Michael asked.
Phoebe looked up at Severus. He shot her his deepest, nastiest look of warning. If anything, she looked even more amused, but she nodded a little. "Parts of it are Severus's story, and he can tell it best for himself."
Or not at all. He was trying very hard to lock the experience in a tight little box and forget it ever happened. The details were something he would never share, but the fact that the whole ordeal had even happened was not something he wanted others to know. The role of the victim would be too humiliating. Phoebe's pity was hard enough to bear, and he actually liked her. The pity of strangers would drive him mad.
As Phoebe recounted the events of the last three weeks, he noted that she underplayed the risks as well as the enormous sacrifices she had made on his behalf. She was some classy lady.
His mind wandered, and he found himself studying the two wizards. They were homosexuals, he supposed. Phoebe had not mentioned it, but perhaps she had known them for so long she didn't give it a second thought. Severus had nothing against homosexuals, and before Felicity House, he too wouldn't have given it a second thought. His experiences with men had put things in a new perspective. Not that Talinnin was much of a fag. Severus had reached the conclusion that Talinnin was a straight man who liked to rape men as a means of domination and control...
Severus froze as the memories burst from the tight spot where he kept them hidden. For a few moments he was once again in Filla's brick-lined cellar, pulling fruitlessly at the manacles on his hands and feet. The chauffeur and the butler stood by, stripped to the waist, with whips snaking from their hands to lie in menacing coils at their feet. Filla sat in his wheelchair, straining forward in anticipation of 'sport.' And all the while there was Talinnin, taunting him.
"Severus, Severus..." a voice echoed in his head.
"Severus?" It was a rich feminine contralto, with an American accent. He looked up to see Phoebe sitting across from him at the end of a narrow tunnel of vision. His face felt hot, and when he wiped his hand across it, it came back slick with sweat. Seconds later, he shivered.
Phoebe's chair screeched against the tile as she jumped to her feet.
"Get him a towel, and a glass of water."
Severus became aware of the two wizards in the room with them.
"What is it, Severus?" She placed an arm around his shoulders. "Would you like to lie down?"
"No!" he exclaimed with more force thank he intended. "No, thank you." He took a dishtowel from Steve, blankly noting its red and white pattern before using it to wipe his face. If he lay down now, he would fall asleep, he thought. And if the box were open now, it would surely be open in his dreams.
"Where is your bathroom?" he asked when he could no longer stomach their expressions of sympathy and concern.
*****
"Is he okay?" Michael asked when they heard the bathroom door close.
"He's been very ill. He came close to dying twice just a few weeks ago. They gave him a lot of potions to take..." She shrugged. "They've been fine until now, but who knows?"
"Maybe we should take him to a healer," Steve suggested.
Phoebe, who suspected Severus's problem was not caused by anything physical, shook her head. "I'll keep an eye on him."
When Severus returned, composed, he sat back down in his chair with his usual straight, upright bearing.
"We should go over the photo with them," he said.
"Right," she said. She reached down for her handbag, which lay on the floor by her feet. "I've got my key, too."
"Great," Steve said. He took great care in placing it in an inner pocket of his robe.
"The goblins like to audit an account of your size before making such a large withdrawal. They don't have to, of course. You can take your gold at any time, but you know how goblins are. They want to be sure nobody's being cheated or robbed of a single galleon."
"Sure. How long will that take?"
"No more than two days. I'll make sure to get it started tomorrow."
"Good." She placed a photograph of Narcissa Malfoy in front of him. "We know she has questioned my employees, and we assume my friends and family will be next."
"Wow," Steve said before sliding the photograph across to Michael. "I don't know if she's scary or gorgeous."
"You should see her in person. She practically radiates animosity. And power. Lots of power."
"She almost looks like she should have black hair, instead of blonde, and she could star in some B-grade vampire flick," Steve said.
Phoebe started to chuckle, but her laughter died when she saw Severus's intense stare in Michael's direction. She turned her head to see Michael frowning down at the photograph.
"Michael?"
Michael ran his fingers through his curls. He opened his mouth but shut it again.
"You've seen her," Severus said.
Michael's eyes slid in Severus's direction before returning to the photograph.
"It's as if the memory is there," Severus said, "but when you try to grasp it, it darts away."
Michael's hunched shoulders relaxed. "Yes. That's it. Exactly." He looked up at Phoebe and Steve. "It's a very disturbing kind of thing."
"Obliviates can be very disturbing. The more that is removed, and the more stressful the circumstances, the more they disrupt the natural energy flow of the mind. It's one of the reasons why they're considered unethical."
Severus was in his element now and looking like a man who could have been the Hero of Hogwarts. He took out his wand.
"I can find out if the Obliviate has indeed been done, and when." He raised his wand, but hesitated. "If I may?"
"Of course, I want to know."
"Good. This charm will guide your memory backwards from this moment. It's nothing more than a memory aid. You'll need to concentrate and make note of any memories that don't connect seamlessly with the next. Now, close your eyes."
Severus cast the charm. "Think about our visit, and work backward to our arrival."
Phoebe and Steve watched in rapt attention as Severus guided Michael back through the hours. He modulated his silky baritone into a low, hypnotic tone. Phoebe found herself following his commands, her memory casting backwards into her own past.
"Wait," Michael said, jarring her into the present from the morning of the previous day.
"Take it forward again, and stop. Concentrate on that."
Michael nodded. "Okay."
"What do you remember?"
"I can remember her leaving the apartment, but before that..." He frowned as if he were in pain. "It's just a blank, a void, and then I'm in the studio painting before that."
"Return to seeing her leave the apartment. What did you do next?"
"I went to the bathroom."
"You had been drinking something before? In your studio?"
"No."
"Keep going."
"I was really thirsty and I went into the kitchen to get something to drink."
"Yes?" Severus seemed eager for these mundane details. "What did you do in the kitchen?"
"I went to the table. There was a pitcher of iced tea there, and some glasses. I remember wondering why I used so many glasses and where all the iced tea went."
"How many glasses?"
"Three."
"Ah," Severus said with a nod. "Finite Incantatum." He leaned back in his chair and said, "Veritaserum."
"How would she have gotten me to drink it?"
"How would she have gotten you to let her in the house in the first place?" Steve asked.
"Under different circumstances, she would have come in with a cover story, got your information, and then Obliviated the interrogatory part of her visit. But she didn't want you to remember that she was even here."
"So she used some kind of story to get Michael to let her in and serve drinks?" Phoebe asked.
"Yes, or that in combination with a few charms to gain your trust. You were thirsty, so she probably used a Thirst Hex to make sure you drank the tea. Lacing it with Veritaserum would have been just a matter of sleight of hand."
Phoebe sighed and sagged back into her chair. "So, we can assume that everything you two know, she knows."
"Veritaserum doesn't make you talk about any particular subject. The right questions have to be asked. Its usefulness is directly related to the skill of the interrogator. Given that this is Narcissa Malfoy we're dealing with, it would be safe to assume she knows everything."
"She knows I plan to get my gold."
"But not when," Steve said.
"And she's trying to find us, so most of her questions would be in regards to places you might go, or people you would contact."
"So, she might not know about the gold at all," Phoebe said.
"That would not be a safe assumption."
Phoebe rubbed her fingertips over her temples and groaned. She leaned forward to place a hand over Michael's. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he said with a lift of his chin. "The memory charm helped it settle down, sort of. It doesn't feel so weird to think about it now." He looked down at their hands, his expression grim. She slid hers away. "I'm sorry, Phoebe."
"Don't be. It's my fault, really. I meant to come here last week, but I kept putting it off. I'm so sorry this was done to you." She shivered. "It's so scary how easily she walked in here and did what she wanted."
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine." He made a significant glance down at the photograph of Narcissa Malfoy. "And not remembering meeting Vampirella is probably a good thing."
They all laughed more than the joke deserved, eager to relieve some tension. Even Severus smiled a little.
"Steve, would you get the coffee pot?" Michael asked.
"Sure, Mikey."
"Mikey?" Phoebe said. "He lets you call him Mikey? I wasn't even allowed to call him Mike."
"Honey, he lets me call him all kinds of things you wouldn't believe, if I get him worked up enough," Steve said, blushing at his own boldness, so flustered that he almost tripped over his chair as he rose from the table.
"Oh, well..." Phoebe said dismissively. "I could have called him anything I wanted, you know, but as a domme I had standards to uphold."
"That's what I let you believe," Michael said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, tapping one out. "You have a lighter, Phoebe?"
After she had dug into her purse and extracted a lighter, she took the cigarette from him and lit it herself, taking a deep drag before handing it back to him. "You should really quit smoking, Mikey."
He wrinkled his nose at her, but smiled.
"I thought you didn't smoke, Phoebe," Steve said.
"I don't."
"But--"
"Phoebe's helping me quit," Michael explained. "When I'm with her I only smoke half as much. And drink half as much, too. We're into sharing, aren't we Pheebs." A look passed etween Phoebe and Michael that Severus couldn't decipher. Her mouth turned down bit. The levity dampened.
Steve's cheeks had turned crimson. "So I've been told, but I understand Michael's not as generous as he used to be."
"No, he's not," Phoebe said gently, the words softened even further with a rueful smile. "He's never going to be quite as generous again."
Severus watched this, knowing something had passed between the three of them but unsure of what it was. He made mental notes and filed them away.
A few seconds passed in awkward silence, before Michael said, "You know, Phoebe quit cold turkey in one day."
"God, I can't imagine that," Steve said. "It took me weeks and I was a crab monster the entire time. What'd you do?"
"Left Phil. Suddenly, I started caring again about what I smelled like to the guy sleeping next to me." Another look passed between Phoebe and Michael, their eyes locked on each other.
"And the guy sleeping next to her really appreciated the change," Michael said. He looked away from Phoebe to blow a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, a smug smile on his face.
The coffee pot slammed against the table so hard, Severus was surprised it didn't break. Steve stomped out of the room.
"Michael," Phoebe hissed. Her eyes flicked in Severus's direction for a second. He quickly looked away. "You idiot. You can't treat him that way."
"He's been a prick about it all week. He won't want me to take the job because of it. And we need the money."
"I can manage without you, Michael. And if I need to, I'll help you find a way to earn more. I have lots of contacts."
He should leave them alone, he thought, but it was a small apartment. Between eavesdropping or sharing space with Steve and his mood, he preferred the former.
"I want the job, Phoebe. I'm good at it, and I enjoy the work. But that's not it. I can't convince him that we can stop any time we want to."
Phoebe was still talking, taking Michael to task. "Believe it or not, I think Steve is perfect for you because of the very things about him that drive me crazy. He may be a brick, but God knows you need an anchor."
She let Michael glare at her for a moment before she continued. "Steve is very sensitive, and astute. A hell of a lot more than you are, apparently." This earned her a sour look. "And the very fact that we can stop any time we want is the whole problem. He knows our relationship is strong enough to survive even if we're not sleeping together, and I'll bet he wonders if he'll ever have that with you."
Michael stared down at the tablecloth now, looking chastised. "Maybe I should go talk to him."
"No, I will," she said as she pushed her chair back. She looked at Severus briefly, regretful now. Then she cuffed Michael lightly on the arm as she passed his chair. "Do not get yourself into even more trouble tonight by telling Severus all of my secrets while I'm gone."
Michael lit another cigarette. He took several deep drags as he leaned back in his chair to stare at Severus. He had the feeling he was expected to say something, but he wouldn't fall into that intimidation trap.
After a few moments of silence, Michael said, "Phoebe and I have been together a long time, you know. She's always been there for me." He stared for another moment. "Our sleeping together was really more of a casual thing. Fuck buddies. But we were always best friends."
He bent forward to flick ash into a glass ashtray that rested on the table and leaned back again before he continued. "She took me off the streets and fed me and clothed me when she could barely afford to feed herself. I don't know what I'd be now if she hadn't been there for me. Probably dead." Icy blue eyes bored into Severus through the cigarette smoke. "Like you'll be if anything happens to her because of you."
It would have been humorous, Severus thought, if he wasn't so intensely serious.
Phoebe returned with Steve and stopped as she passed by Severus's chair. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and said in a stage whisper, "Go ahead. Tell me, how bad was Michael while I was gone?"
"She's touchy, isn't she?" Severus asked.
"Touchy?" Michael asked.
"Yes. She's always touching."
"Oh, yeah."
"What's wrong with that?" Phoebe asked as she sat in her chair. "It's just how I express myself."
"It's a family thing," Michael said. "They all do it. Years ago I went to some of their holiday gatherings. They were always hugging and kissing and patting each other. And there's so many of them." He rolled his eyes. "Every time someone walked in the door they would all come running, and the hugging and kissing and crying would start. It could take twenty minutes just to get your coat off."
"Michael," Phoebe said with a warning.
Michael just grinned and continued. "One Thanksgiving I sat at the kitchen table and watched her mom at the stove. Four different kids in a row came up and put their arm around her shoulder and offered to help." Michael started to laugh. "And then her dad came in, slapped her on the fanny and said, 'When's dinner?'"
Steve and Michael laughed, while Phoebe pasted on a smile of tolerant amusement. Severus tried to imagine such a convivial home life, but the images were too alien to his own experience to be conjured.
"And after dinner they would all cuddle up on the couches with their arms around each other while they watched TV. You know," he cast a sly glance at Phoebe, "if you weren't in the right frame of mind for it, it was really quite nauseating."
"Michael! First of all, you are exaggerating things all out of proportion. We're demonstrative, I'll admit, but we're not that bad. And some of us don't even like each other all that much."
They continued to laugh and tease each other, while Severus quietly watched. He realized Phoebe might need a break from all of the stress and trauma of the last few weeks. She also might not see these friends again for a very long time. His flashback, however, and the strain of prolonged charm work, had drained him. When he closed his eyes for a moment, it didn't go unnoticed.
"You know, it's been a long day for us," Phoebe said. "I think we should get going before I get too tired to Apparate the two of us."
"I can do myself."
"I'm sure you can, but I'm not going to let you."
He gave her one of his best professorial glares, but she just smiled and raised her eyebrows in return. The woman was not exaggerating when she said she did not intimidate easily.
The two wizards protested, but Phoebe refused their offers to remain. They did their own version of the hugging and kissing and crying, taking an inordinate amount of time at the coat closet. Sweat gathered in the small of Severus's back by the time Phoebe donned her own, and threw her arm over his shoulder. "Ready, Quimo Sabe?"
"Reference?"
"Some other time."
"Hi ho, Silver, and away!" Michael said as she waved at her friends and took Severus home.
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