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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
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Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 26
Severus waited for Phoebe in the darkened living room, buried deep under a pile of quilts. The dying embers of the fire and a crescent moon cast orange and silver lights that glinted off of objects around the room. Wood smoke smell mingled with the scents of Phoebe's perfume and laundry soap that lingered on the quilt. He smoothed his fingers of the fabric, a tightly woven cotton. An inventory of his five senses, a game he learned to play in order to occupy his mind in the dark of his closet.
Severus caught his mind wandering and brought himself back to the issue at hand. Surely now she would listen to reason. It was imperative that they move to another location, one far far away. As long as Malfoy knew in which general area she resided, there were magics she could perform, Dark Magic that would bring Phoebe and Severus into grave peril. It was only a matter of time before Malfoy became frustrated or desperate enough to use them. They were dangerous to perform, usually requiring more than one person, but with Draco's help she would probably succeed.
And then there were more mundane problems, like purchasing supplies in the small, isolated shopping districts of the wizarding world. The trip to the bank had been foolish, and Severus blamed himself for the whole affair. He would rather go without medicine than have her take such risks again. Phoebe had been fanatical about his health. If it came down to a battle of wills, which of them would triumph? Severus doubted that Phoebe could possibly be as stubborn and unyielding as he, but on the other hand, women fought dirty.
The pop of her Apparating into the kitchen startled him out of his thoughts.
"How did it go?"
She passed behind his chair on the way to her room. She gasped, not having seen him sitting there in the dark.
"Don't do that again, Severus. I've had enough shocks for one day." Her voice was flat.
"Your friend, how is he?"
She paused at the entrance to the hall, as if eager to be alone in her room.
"They took him to Solace, but he revived fine. He has some cuts and bruises on his face and arms and chest, but they said he would have no permanent marks."
"I imagine you're relieved."
He heard her body move, the dark shadow of her form shivering as she shifted from foot to foot.
"Yes, of course," she said with a preoccupied air. "Good night."
He waited for the soft click of her door shutting, then rose and went to the kitchen. He had not napped today, nor yesterday, an omission Phoebe had not failed to notice. Still, though he felt tired, his mind raced. Working had always settled his nerves in the past, and at the moment he felt the need to do something where he was in complete control. Phoebe could chastise him in the morning.
An hour later, an array of serving bowls sat before him when Phoebe shuffled into the room. She wore a simple red witch's robe, belted at the waist, and slippers. Her hair was disheveled, as if she had been to bed but spent the time tossing and turning.
"What are you doing up?" Her manner was unusually subdued.
"This needs to be finished. I made you another soak and a minor healing potion for your cut. And I was testing the scar cream to see if I can replicate it if it ever runs out."
"Bored much?" Phoebe opened the refrigerator. "I forgot all about dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I ate the rest of those biscuits you served with my tea, but I'm hungry now."
Her smile appeared then. "Severus, when it comes to food, you are an absolute child. Can you take a break from that?"
"Certainly."
"Have you ever had a meatloaf sandwich?"
"No."
"You're in for a treat."
They sat across from each other at separate nightstands, with their plates of meatloaf on sourdough bread and fruit salad she had prepared the previous day. Phoebe also had a Sam Adams Pale Ale, which she drank straight from the bottle.
"Is that any good?" he asked.
"You mean, is it better than the usual swill we Americans drink?"
"Exactly."
"It's good. Would you like one? Can you drink with your medications?"
He thought a moment, reviewing the components of his various potions. "With a glass. We Brits are a bit more civilized when it comes to our beers."
"Humph. Well, drinking from the bottle was one habit Phil never managed to break me of, probably because he discouraged me from drinking beer around his friends. Pale Ale or Boston Lager?"
"Ale."
Phoebe appeared thoughtful as she ate several bites of her sandwich, but then said, "Severus, as long as I remain here, I am a danger to everyone I know and care about."
The Fates be praised.
"There are a few things I would like to take care of with the resort. They might take a few days, but we should be able to go as soon as they are done."
Severus could not help but let out a sigh of relief. "Excellent. We'll need to discuss where to go, I suppose."
"Do you still want to go to Scotland?"
"Well," he began, thinking out loud, "I would like to be in Scotland for the same reasons you wanted to be here."
"It's home?"
"Yes, but also home turf, my territory. I know how to find things there and the best places to hide."
Phoebe rose, going to the cupboard while saying, "You would be much more likely to be recognized there."
"And there are many more Death Eaters who could be watching for us, but not so many as in England."
Phoebe placed two large, soft, chocolate chip cookies on his empty plate.
"I thought I ate the last of these."
Phoebe gave him the barest of smiles as she sat back across from him. "I hid the second package so you might eat something healthy when you wanted a snack. You know, we'll stand out as foreigners outside of Britain, but there are countries where You-Know-Who has made no inroads at all. There would be no network for them to fall back on when searching for us. Have you ever wanted to travel?"
It had been so long since Severus had been either naïve or hopeful enough about his future to hold dreams of that sort that he could hardly remember them. Finally he said, "I've wanted to go to the Amazon to gather specimens." He grinned, imagining the elegant, beautiful Phoebe in a canoe, swatting mosquitoes and beating off alligators with a paddle.
"The Amazon?" She choked on her beer. "Do you have any idea of how big the snakes are there? And the mosquitoes all carry malaria, and dengue fever, and God knows what else."
Severus raised one eyebrow at her. "You don't like snakes?"
"I do not like snakes."
"Well, there's been very little exploration and collection done in the mountainous regions of Western China."
"Snow. Deep, deep snow."
"I would have figured you liked snow." He gestured toward the darkened window. "You chose to come up here."
"I have learned to tolerate snow. And I chose to come up here for other reasons. It doesn't matter anyway. You're nowhere near healthy enough for an excursion like that."
"I know. You asked if I ever wished to travel, and I decided to open up and talk to you about something." He popped a bit of cookie into his mouth with a smug air.
"Thank you. I appreciate that." Her tone hovered between sarcasm and sincerity, which left him confused until he realized she was teasing him back.
He scowled at her. "Wherever we go, it will need to be accessible to a major metropolitan area, so we can get wizarding supplies."
Phoebe sat back in her chair and looked thoughtful. "If we were to go to Britain," she said slowly, "it would be more convenient if you chose to aid those fighting Lo--the Dark Lord."
Severus felt a prick of irritation, accompanied by more than a little dread. "I do not want to discuss that."
Phoebe would not let it go. "When I was talking with Sylvester, he mentioned that the resistance was desperate for a leader. He said you had been mentioned as a possibility."
"I have nothing to offer them, and they wouldn't want me anyway."
"But, Severus." Phoebe appeared confused, and a bit distraught. "They're so desperate. They'll cling to anything and anyone who offers hope. Surely, as a hero--"
He slapped his palms upon the table and rose to his feet. "This is not something I choose to discuss. That part of my life is over."
He stalked off to bed, only to spend a restless night full of angry musings and disturbed dreams.
*****
Phoebe returned so laden with merchandise, she'd had to purchase magical shopping bags to accommodate it. To her great relief, she found nearly everything on her list in Los Angeles's wizarding shopping district. Severus rubbed his hands together as she brought out a set of scales fashioned from the finest steel.
"It's not the maker you asked for," she said apologetically, knowing full well that the instrument she had purchased was much finer than the one he specified. She set it on the table, where it glistened under a fine sheen of oil.
"Phoebe, I didn't think Copenhagen Instruments were available here." She thought his boyish enthusiasm was almost cute, if that adjective could ever apply to Severus Snape. "This is even better than the one I had at Hogwarts." He raised one brow and said with a touch of humorous arrogance, "And I only kept the finest equipment."
Phoebe smiled indulgently and rummaged in a bag, drawing out a set of International Wizarding Standard weights.
"Might as well start calibrating it." She set the heavy wooden box in front of him.
"Yes." He reached for the box. Then he glanced up. "Thank you, Phoebe. I wasn't expecting this."
"I know, and that's why it makes me so happy to do it."
Severus pulled out a chair and sat with the scales for the entire time it took her to empty the bags of herbs, powders, assorted twigs, insect parts, berries, animal matter she did not care to contemplate, three cauldrons in two sizes, non-reactive tongs, glass stirring rods, a double-distillation apparatus wrapped in cotton and anti-shatter charms, assorted flasks, vials and holders, tubing, burners, testing reagents, two books on Old Magic, six magazines, and two books on the history of science.
"I could not find all of the books you asked for. You'll be too busy this afternoon to read much, anyway."
The house on the mountainside lacked enough tables to build a potions laboratory and leave them a place to eat. They negotiated and compromised. Phoebe insisted that the counters remain free and uncontaminated, to allow her to prepare meals. Severus was allowed the kitchen table. Nightstands and the coffee table were pressed into service for meals and to accommodate their growing stacks of books and papers.
"Will you show me how to make them?" she asked as he stood at the kitchen table to set out his instruments.
"No."
"What if there's a time when you can't do it yourself?"
Phoebe sat in a kitchen chair, her elbows on the edge of the table and her chin propped on the backs of her hands. He was used to an audience after teaching for so long, but eighteen months had passed since he had last prepared potions. The steps and movements felt comfortable and familiar, while awkward and new at the same time. He had to be aware of every motion and to think before taking steps which would have once come automatically. Phoebe's rapt attention unnerved him.
"I want to be sure I have the procedure mastered before I try to teach someone else."
"Oh, of course."
He had spent parts of the last week preparing a staggering sheaf of notes and lists of procedural sequences. Taking the written formulas to the next level and beyond, he itemized the equipment for each step of each procedure, made notes of the expected appearance, temperature, texture, and even smell at each stage, and wrote out time lines so that he would not be involved with one potion when another needed attention. It felt a bit cowardly to prepare so obsessively for something he had mastered two decades before.
When everything was laid out, the equipment at hand, the ingredients gathered into little groups, he paused. A glance at Phoebe showed her looking up at him with an expectant expression.
"Go for it, Potions master."
Her inanity broke his tension. He picked up a chunk of willow bark from among the heart medicine ingredients, and dropped it into the mortar to be ground. The habits and routines of over two decades flowed back to him. He did not hesitate again.
*****
From Phoebe's perspective, the moment the willow bark hit the mortar, a new man emerged from the broken shell that had stood there moments before. Watching Severus work was like watching a virtuoso perform. His long slender hands danced among the flasks and cauldrons, taking a pinch of something here, deftly tearing or pouring there.
She noticed for the first time how beautiful his hands were. He was usually sure of himself when he voiced an opinion. Now, though, he radiated a confidence that bordered on arrogance; he possessed a calm belief in his own superiority that was the trait of a master.
For the first time, she wondered what Severus would be like in bed. If it could be said that Phoebe had a type, it had nothing to do with appearance. Although Phil and Michael were both handsome men, they each possessed something extra that raised them beyond all others in Phoebe's eyes.
Michael, as it turned out, could wield a flog or strap with uncanny precision and delve deep into a sub's psyche. He might be weak and selfish in his personal relationships, but he had no equal in the dungeon. That confidence carried over into all aspects of his life, and she was glad to have given him a job at the resort. Running a shoe store would have eventually driven him mad, and she knew he had only taken that particular job to please the man two lovers before Steve.
Phil suffered from short-man's disease -- an arrogant need to prove himself better than all who surrounded him -- but he also backed that arrogance with a keen mind and a charismatic personality. At school, children had followed him like a band of groupies, wanting to bask in his brilliance. Phoebe had been no different, even after she realized he singled her out because it made him look good to have a beautiful girl on his arm.
And now here stood Severus, making potions like he had been born for it. In her mind, his heroism and bravery had no match. To return to the Dark Lord again and again, fooling him again must have required uncommon courage. Then he threw it all away to save children.
His dark eyes stared down at the table, a frown of concentration on his face. He would be intense in bed, she thought, but she could never go there with him. How could she? Phoebe represented everything evil that had been done to him over the last year. She doubted they would be together long enough for him to see beyond that.
He paused and looked at her. "You need to prepare the items we'll need for the wards."
"Right." Startled from her wool-gathering, she hoped he didn't notice the flush in her cheeks. She stood and went to the counter where the magical herbs still lay in a shopping bag. She held the bag open and inhaled.
"Mmm, that's nice. I love a batch of fresh herbs." She looked around and decided she had to use the counter after all. Using her wand, she shifted aside the toaster, coffee maker and paper towels, and then scrubbed the surface with a spell. "I suppose it will be a long night," she said idly as she lay out bunches of twigs and leaves.
"I assume you've been practicing the spells." His voice held more than a trace of doubt.
Her hand froze over the herbs. Crap! She said nonchalantly, "I hardly knew them in the first place. I'm sure I've forgotten them by now."
He snorted in disgust. "Then it will be a long night, indeed. Phoebe, we reviewed them all last week. Surely, you haven't forgotten them already."
"Relax, Severus, I'm pulling your chain. Although, I haven't given them a thought since Thursday. Don't worry," she said quickly, to forestall the chastising that was sure to come. "I'll get the notes out as soon as I'm done here."
She was dividing the herbs into two piles when he said, "I had you buy twice as much as we need, in case we move again. Divide everything in half."
"I'm already doing that."
"And then divide it into four equal parts for the stones."
"I know."
His voice hammered on. "You must be sure not to include any diseased plants. They will taint the spells."
"I know."
"Have you found the stones yet?"
"No."
"You should do that next, while there still is plenty of light."
"Yes, sir."
He went on, ignoring her growing irritation. "Leave them out when you are done. I will inspect them."
"Gah!" She tilted her head back and growled at the ceiling. "Why should I even bother then? You could just do the whole thing." Looking over her shoulder, she saw him smirking at her.
"That will be twenty house points, Ms. Baher. Ten for your lack of preparation, and ten for your lack of respect." When she stared at him, open-mouthed, he frowned and waved a hand. "Proceed!"
"Holy crap. You do have a sense of humor."
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