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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
- 30
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Unbroken
Chapter31
By Odd Doll
They had traveled to Britain as guests aboard a cargo ship. Two quiet weeks in a small, dirty cabin. Phoebe read twelve paperback novels she had found in the ship's 'library,' filled every lined pad she possessed with notes and plans, and did calisthenics twice a day. By the time they disembarked in Liverpool, she could do almost as many situps as she had in college. Anything to ease the tension of waiting, of not knowing what was going on out there in the world.
But the enforced idleness was exactly what Severus needed. For two weeks he did little more than rest and read, and take the occasional walk on the upper deck. He seemed remarkably content to let her handle the planning -- and all the worrying. The potions went down his throat without complaints; the walks, the food, even the clothing recommendations were taken with merely a nod and acquiescence. It reminded her of how he had been when she had first seen him: defeated, all his strength used up just to get him to the point where his rescuers could take over.
She wondered at times where the cranky tyrant was hiding, but had no doubt he would reappear once he was better.
The only thing Severus had dug in over was their final destination, and he showed threats of a growing foul mood, mostly with a potent glowering silence, whenever she brought up the subject of going anywhere other than where they were now.
"Why the Western Isles, Severus? You're not even from this area, and we're miles and miles from the school."
The small ferry rolled in the choppy waters of the straights. A heavy rain pelted the decks and outside the sky was as gray and gloomy as Phoebe felt. She shivered, the tiny cabin was not heated, and turned from the rain-streaked windows. She spoke softly so that the few Muggles aboard the ferry with them could not overhear. "It's not even a good strategic location."
"Hush. I'll tell you after we disembark."
They spoke little after that. Phoebe fought back nausea, and she suspected that Severus did the same. They sat side by side on a plastic bench and bumped shoulders for what seemed like an interminable time, but at last they were in their car and driving away from the docks. It was a small car, and for tall people like Severus and Phoebe it felt like riding in a child's vehicle. Between that, the nasty weather, and residual nausea, Phoebe was in a rotten mood, so when Severus once again refused to tell her why he had chosen this small island as their destination, she pulled the car over into the lot of a small store and turned off the ignition.
"I've humored you until now, Severus, but I've had enough. Neither of us is in charge. We make our decisions jointly. So if you have a good reason for hauling me out to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, you'd better tell me right now."
Severus turned his dark eyes upon her, and although he wore an impassive expression, his voice held a trace of bitterness. "I thought you were in charge. You pay all the bills, you organize and arrange everything, you even choose my clothing every morning."
So he cared after all. She had begun to wonder if he was only along for the ride. He might still be, but that didn't mean he had no feelings about it.
"Severus," she said more gently, "I need to know. If I'm to organize everything, I need to be prepared. Why here?"
"Old magic."
"Old magic?"
"Yes. Much of Britain's magical legacy originated with the ancients that lived right on these isles. And it began so long ago, and went on for so long, that the very stones are steeped with magic. Some of these Muggle homes rest on stones that were the foundations of temples from millennia ago. There are Henges of varying sizes on many of these islands. Even ones the Muggles aren't aware of, which is why we're here. Does that satisfy you?"
Aside from being fascinating in a historical sense, she saw only a glimmer of logic in what he had said. "We can use this magic?"
"Perhaps, but mostly it will serve as a screen. There is so much magic emanating from these isles that anything we do will escape notice."
"Oh. Okay." Now it made perfect sense. She reached for the ignition, but consulted her small map of the town before backing out of the parking space. It wasn't far to the estate agent's office, since the town was little more than a fishing village. As she turned into the street, she said, "Why here, though? There has to be other places like this in Britain."
"There are, but most of them are in or under Muggle settlements, or they're monuments, like Stonehenge, which are heavily guarded. There are a few sites we could have used, but none of them were as powerful as this one."
"How do you know about all of this? Do they teach it at Hogwarts?"
"No, but it occurred to me long before this that I might need to flee at some point."
*****
The car bounced along the rutted track in the most alarming manner. Ahead of them, the estate agent's bigger, heavier Rover took the rough terrain as if made for it, and Severus wished he had taken her offer to drive them in her vehicle. But he didn't trust Muggle transportation and felt more comfortable with Phoebe behind the wheel.
It was their third and last stop, for the agent said that she had no more rentals that met their requirements of having at least two bedrooms and being away from the town. When they pulled up in front of it, Phoebe hissed.
"It's a shack."
Even the estate agent seemed embarrassed to show it to them.
"It hasn't been rented in a few years. There's no electric," she told them as they walked up the dirt path to an edifice of gray boards with a gray slate roof, surrounded by tough, windblown grass that grew right up to the door.
The path was wet from the rain. Phoebe slid on a muddy patch and then turned to glare at him. "That first place was pretty nice." Severus ignored her. He could already feel the magic emanating from the house and the surrounding area.
The agent extracted a key from her purse and inserted it into the flimsy lock. "There's a well, but without electricity you have to pump the water by hand when the wind isn't blowing for the windmill. Fortunately, it's almost always windy roundabouts these parts."
Inside, the house was small, but as clean and dry as a house can be when left untenanted for several years. In other words, dusty and dank. But as promised, there were two bedrooms.
"The owner takes good care of the place. And he put in a modern bathroom. You have to pump the water up to the tanks to take a shower or use the toilet, but otherwise they work fine.
"The fireplace isn't that large," Severus observed. He looked over at Phoebe, who just shrugged. It wasn't as if they were going to get on the floo network. He knelt by the hearth to place his palm against the stones. Behind him Phoebe sighed loudly, but he barely heard it as he concentrated on the essence of Old Magic that prickled the skin on his hand. He rose and turned.
"Where was this stone quarried?"
"Don't know, but I imagine it came from the ruins that are just up that hill."
He gave Phoebe a stare that he hoped told her that he wanted this place. She rolled her eyes in response, and he took that to mean that the message had been received.
"We'll take it," he said.
"Severus! We should talk about this first, don't you think?"
He looked out the grimy window. "The rain's stopped. Why don't we take a short walk and look at the property?"
She scowled, but said to the agent, "Could we talk in private?"
The agent, who was a portly woman in her fifties, seemed relieved that she didn't need to guide her clients up the slippery wet hill. Phoebe on the other hand, started to grumble the moment they were out of earshot.
"The place is out of the 19th century, Severus," she said first, followed by, "and that road, it's a wreck."
"We won't be using it much. I imagine you'll Apparate to the nearest city to do the shopping. And a broom is much faster than that horrible tub we came over on."
"You can't Apparate into a Muggle grocery store. And there's no electricity."
"There's no electricity in any magical home." He lost his patience with her arguments. "With magic we could it have livable, even comfortable, in a matter of hours. You know that. What are your real objections?"
They had reached the top of the hill. From there the land sloped sharply down to the house and then more gradually until it reached a shallow drop to a narrow beach a quarter mile away. It was late afternoon, and the storm had finally broken. The late sun sparkled on the water directly ahead of them. In the distance, more small islands interrupted the expanse of sea and sky. The view was spectacular, but Phoebe turned from it.
"Does it snow here?"
"Very likely."
"I don't like snow. And if our stay extends into winter, we'll be trapped here." She spread her hands to indicate their surroundings. "Here, just you and I."
He understood now. "You can dump me anywhere you like, Phoebe. You don't have to feel trapped living with me."
"That's not what I meant! It's just so desolate."
"We can't live in a city. It's too dangerous." His hands clenched with his rising irritation. "We've had this discussion."
She turned back to look down at the house. "It is more spacious than the other two," she conceded. "And both the rent and the deposit are ridiculously low." She sighed, but then grinned. "All right. Do you know how to use magic to do home repair?"
"No, but we can learn. We'll get some--"
"Books," they both said at once.
*****
Several weeks later, Phoebe paced from one end of the small living area to the other.
"Are you anxious?" Severus asked from where he sat brooding in his chair by the fireplace. "You pace when you're worried."
She froze. "You noticed?"
He noticed everything about her: how she let her hair down more now, long and honey blond cascading over her shoulders; how she loved to eat, so she satisfied that urge by lovingly preparing Severus's meals; how she had efficiently set the cottage to rights and made it comfortable.
"Yes, and put your fingertips in your mouth but not actually chew your nails." He stretched out his legs. She didn't seem on the verge of a panic attack, so he relaxed. "Run your fingers through your hair, rearrange objects around you. Scribble on your yellow pads."
"I don't scribble." She threw up her hands and plopped down in the chair bedside him. "It's raining. I want to walk."
He could use a walk himself, and he had far less to occupy him than she did. It suddenly occurred to him that she must be at loose ends. A busy life -- a business to run, friends -- all abandoned. He knew their flight had become for her own sake, but the debt he owed her weighed on him. More than that, he wanted to do something nice for her, to take her mind off their situation and repay some of that debt. He only possessed one thing of his own anymore -- his brain.
"Phoebe, I would like to teach you a few things."
She perked up. "Really? What?"
"How to make my potions, for one, and how to duel, for another." He had an inspiration. "Would you show me how to cook a few things? My skills are rudimentary and I no longer have Hogwarts's house elves to prepare most of my meals."
She smiled a little, as if she knew exactly what he wanted to accomplish and had decided to humor him. "Which do you want to start with first?"
"Food. I'm hungry."
She laughed. "Anything in particular?"
"Those bread things we had yesterday. I would like to know how to make them."
"Bruschetta? Sure. I'll have to go to the market, but I'll be quick."
Wanting to extended the moment, he rose. "I'll go with you."
"Good. Good cooking begins with good shopping."
*****
When Phoebe taught cooking, she didn't fool around. How to choose tomatoes. How to hold a chef's knife, and how to chop said tomatoes. How to tell if the oil is hot enough for frying. By the time she announced the meal ready, a sheen of sweat coated his forehead and he was almost too tired to eat. She ordered him to his bed and brought a tray to set on his bedside table. With the meal came a glass of red wine.
"Italian food has to have wine." She sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her own plate from the tray. "Mangia, mangia. Eat," she said with a wave of her hand. Her eyes half closed with pleasure as she took a bite of bruschetta. A vision sprang into his mind: Phoebe naked beneath him, the same expression on her face. He guessed it was inevitable, living closely with a beautiful woman, that he would eventually feel some sort of attraction, but the strength of his arousal shocked him. Perhaps it came from having felt nothing but numb for so long. Perhaps he simply liked her more than any woman since Lily.
"After all that work, aren't you going to try it? It's really good. You did good, Severus."
A ring of carbon circled the bottom edge of the bread in his hand, and he knew he'd put in too much basil, but it did taste good. He reached for his wine glass. "Where have you been hiding this?"
"I bought it today while you were entranced with the candy aisle."
He smiled and took a sip, then spit it back into the glass. "Good to know I didn't make the wine."
She tried hers and made a face. "I didn't recognize any of the labels, so I had to just guess and pick one. Sorry."
He watched her while they both ate. Some days, when she took charge or their arrangements or dealt with outsiders, he could see the ghost of the dominatrix in her. Phoebe definitely knew how to use an authoritative mien to get what she wanted. Then there was this woman who sat on his bed and ate Italian food with simple, undisguised pleasure, relaxed and natural.
"The dominatrix is an act, isn't it?" he blurted out and immediately regretted it when she dropped her bread to her plate and looked away.
"Everything is an act, Severus. You should have seen that by now. The business woman, the friend. It's all make-believe. I'm just a bad person who fakes it all the time."
"No, Phoebe. We all have roles. I'm much different with students than I am with other faculty. I'm different with the Dark Lord than I am with Albus Dumbledore. These are just facets of me, just as those roles are facets of you. Except the dominatrix. That one doesn't fit."
"Was it not an act then, when you went to the Dark Lord and made him think you were loyal?"
That stopped him for a moment. "It was an act," he said slowly, "but not at first."
She shrugged. "The dominatrix was an act, but not at first."
He pondered that, but didn't have the nerve to question her further.
"Do we have anything else to drink?"
"I have another bottle of wine. Maybe this one will be better." She left the room with a stiff stride, as if not really comfortable with him, but she returned, bringing the entire bottle with her.
She had rinsed their glasses and filled them again. "This one is better, I promise." When she had settled back on his bed, she said, "Severus, if we are going to get along for however long this takes, we'll need to have some boundaries. I haven't asked you about what happened at Felicity House, and I'd appreciate it if you don't press me to talk about certain parts of my life."
"Your business?"
"Let's just say my past as a dominatrix. Oh, and while we're at it, Michael and Phil."
It said volumes to him that she refused to discuss the two most important men in her life, but he merely said, "Very well."
"Is there anything you don't wish to discuss."
Everything. "That last night at Hogwarts."
"Oh." She seemed disappointed. "Anything else?"
"Some of the work I did for the Order I can't talk about." He wanted to keep much from her, but he knew that if he were to forge a friendship with her, and he wished to, he would have to be more forthcoming. A certain amount of trust must be given in order to be returned.
"Can you talk about the Order at all? You've mentioned them. They're a band of people resisting the Dark Lord. How well organized are they?"
"They are fairly well organized, or at least they were before Dumbledore disappeared, but both the last time and this time they the Dark Lord rose they focused entirely on defensive action."
She gestured toward his plate. "Eat your pasta. There's meat in the sauce."
"Yes, madam." He forked up a bite of some kind of tube-shaped noodle.
"You know, we did massive war games every summer as a kid. Got everyone in the neighborhood involved. In no way does that make me an expert, but I did learn a thing or two. One was that you eventually have to strike. Fortune doesn't favor the timid."
"Exactly. It is all well and good to protect Harry Potter or smuggle refugees out of the country, but they did nothing offensive at all." He gave her a measuring look. Smart, brave despite the panic attacks, but also possessing the type of personality that people wanted to follow. "You could do much good if you joined the Order."
"Severus..." She looked down at her plate, sighed, and reached for her wine glass. "You know what I want more than anything?"
"To go home?"
"Yes, that, but also I just want the safety and security I had before." She took a sip, then another. "I had my life all worked out so that I felt safe. Routine. Familiar things and people. I hadn't had a panic attack in years and I thought that was all behind me."
"Is that what it's all about for you? Preventing panic attacks?"
She shook her head. "It's more than that. I couldn't explain it to you."
"Try."
"I'm successful and in charge. I'm good at running a resort. In this one sphere, no one can say I'm not good enough."
"I imagine no one can say that about anything you try."
"Act. Remember? It's all an act. Inside I'm not in charge at all. All day I talk myself into being what I need to be. It doesn't come naturally."
"Bullshit."
Her mouth opened and she turned back to face him. "What?"
"Once I started spying for Dumbledore, I never felt like it was real. I was just a terrified boy going back and forth between two powerful men, trying to save the life of a girl. But it doesn't matter why I did it. Eventually, I made a difference. I was that spy in the results I returned, even if I was scared out of my mind half the time. That's the same for you. You are a successful businesswoman no matter how you feel about it or what your motives are for creating that life." He shrugged. "You wanted security. You started a business to get that."
She stared, blinked, but fastened on one thing he said. "A girl?"
He could have ignored it, like he did with all things he didn't want to talk about, but he suddenly wanted Phoebe to know that he could love somebody. "Her name was Lily. I knew her since I was a boy, since before Hogwarts."
"She was a good friend?"
"Until I became an arsehole."
"Were you able to save her?"
"No. She was Harry Potter's mother."
She looked down at her plate for a second. "I'm sorry."
The story spilled out. "I overheard a prophecy. The real kind. About a boy being born on the last day of July, who would defeat the Dark Lord. I told him about it, and then it turned out to be Lily's son."
It took her a minute to respond. "You blame yourself."
"Of course I blame myself." He set his empty plate on the tray and folded his hands across his lap. He'd grown very tired, but didn't want the sharing to end for some reason he didn't understand. "I went to Dumbledore to warn him, because I didn't know where she was."
"You were estranged."
"We had been for several years. Anyway, for his cooperation, he demanded that I report back to him about the Dark Lord's activities."
"From what I've heard about Dumbledore, it seems to me he would have helped anyway."
"He would have, but I didn't realize it back then. I ended up shackled to both of them." He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes for a second. "But now I'm free."
Phoebe, taking this cue, began to gather the dishes. "You're not going back to the fight?"
"I don't want to," he admitted. "I have a second chance now. I'd like to put that life behind me. I want..."
She waited for him, then said, "What do you want, Severus. Whatever it is, I'll try to help you find it."
He opened his eyes. "Felicity House broke me, Phoebe. I'd like to put the pieces back together in a different way."
She reached out and squeezed his hands where they still lay folded in his lap. When had he stopped mentally shying away from her casual touch? When had he started to crave it?
He looked at her face and saw her gentle smile. "I think that is something you'll have to do mostly yourself." She stood and took up the tray. "However, I promise to let you know whenever you're being an arsehole."
He found himself smiling, but he had one more thing on his mind. "Phoebe, if I return to the fight, will you go with me?"
She paused, holding the tray just inside the doorway. "I don't know. All I want is to go home."
"Fighting may be the only way you'll ever have that choice."
"I know, Severus, but it doesn't mean I like it."
*****
The next day, Severus and Phoebe walked up the grassy hill to the top to begin her dueling lessons. They had cast anti-Muggle spells, but few were really necessary. Acres of empty grass, rocks, and scrubby bushes surrounded them on three sides and the sea on the fourth.
Severus positioned her fifteen feet from a particularly large rock. "Stupefy and Protego are your two staple spells for dueling. Have you ever learned them?"
"I know them both."
"Cast Stupefy at that rock."
"Oh good. I was worried you would have me dueling against you."
"We will, eventually, but right now..." He sighed. "I'm too weak to duel. Now, that rock is your target. Cast Stupefy."
The spell fell upon the rock with a shock wave that barely registered in the magical spectrum.
"Think harder, Phoebe. Try again." Her second Stupefy duplicated the first. "It's all about intent with magic. You have to want to obliterate that rock. If you do it well enough, you can get two or even three people at the same time. Now, again."
Her next spell looked identical to the first. "Harder, Phoebe. Your wand is willow, but that doesn't mean you don't have power. I've seen you work."
The fourth spell again made a small impact. And the fifth through the tenth.
"Harder. You have to want it. Again."
Phoebe tried again and again, until her brain hurt and she thought she might never want to hear his voice again, but she never reached the level Severus wanted. Standing near him, she could feel his tension rise; his arms crossed over his chest and he occasionally tapped a foot.
"Again."
"I'm tired."
"It's been ten minutes. Is this really all you have, Phoebe?"
"It's been at least twenty minutes. Is this really your best teaching method? Having the student flounder around until they get the magic by magic?" She flopped down on the ground, took a breath of sweet grass-scented air, and tried not to get irritated with him.
He possessed no pity. "Get up."
"No. Not if you're going to berate me."
"I've never berated you."
She snorted. "You're a crappy teacher."
"It was not my career of choice, but I am an excellent professor of potions," he said haughtily.
"Sorry. I get snippy when I'm frustrated." She raised her brows. "Perhaps you do, too."
The corners of his lips lifted almost imperceptibly, what usually passed for a smile for him. "Perhaps."
She looked up at him, serious now. "I'm not much of a witch, Severus. If you're teaching me, you can't have your expectations too high."
"Who told you that?"
"I..." She shut her mouth. Phil had told her, again and again. After each disastrous exam in school. Don't worry, Phoebe. You're not much of a witch, but I'll always take care of you. "I did lousy at AMA."
"You admitted yourself that the only things you paid attention to were boys and basketball. Since then you've obviously applied yourself and learned. When you cook you never have fewer than three spells going at once, some of them quite intricate. And I watched you perform that Obliviate on your father. That is serious magic, and you performed it with precision."
She rose to all fours and then to her feet. "You really think so?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, nodded to himself, and did something Phoebe never expected -- he touched her. A hand on each shoulder, he turned her to face the rock again. He touched her because he wanted to, she realized, not like before when she needed comfort and he was the only person there to provide it. Something inside her, invisible to him but at the center of her own awareness, shivered with the first awakenings of desire.
His hands remained in place, and he leaned forward a few inches to say near her ear in his silky baritone, "Think, Phoebe. You are the dominatrix, this is your client. You deliver pain and humiliation. You want to."
Too distracted by his nearness, she didn't react at first, but then slid into that place that allowed to hurt people at their request and not feel any shame or guilt. She inhaled deeply through her nose, chest rising, and raised her wand again. "Stupefy!" This time the magic did become visible, to anyone with the gift to see it, spreading out from the rock like a ripple in a pond.
"Good," Severus said. His hands fell away, leaving a cold spot on each shoulder. "Now do it ten more times."
She rolled her shoulders but couldn't shake of the ghostly impression of hands resting there. Still, she had found that place where her battle readiness lived, and returning there came easily. When she had cast the ten Stupefys, she turned to find Severus had moved several feet away and had his wand raised.
"Now cast Protego." She saw his wand rise, but didn't react fast enough to stop the Sting hex from slamming into the center of her chest.
"Ow! Hey!" She rubbed her chest with her palm. The wand moved again, and once again she reacted too slowly, although she did get a Protego shield in place.
"Hold Protego and cast the Stupefy."
She tried several times, but each time the Protego faltered when she turned her concentration to the other spell.
"That will be your homework. You don't need me with you to practice that." He wheezed a little, and his wand hand hung limply at his side. Before, when he'd practiced charm work, he had been sitting. Phoebe rushed to his side.
"Take my arm. We'll get you inside."
"I can walk on my own," he said, but he looked at her offered arm for a second and then wrapped his hand into the crook of her elbow. She wondered if he simply wanted to touch her.
All the way back to the cottage she felt the heat of his hand, his body close by her side, but the warm glow she felt came from the words he'd said, his belief in her. She respected his opinions, respected him, and he believed in her.
*****
He had smelled the strawberry scent of her hair as he leaned in to speak. If he hadn't been so tired at that point, he might have become embarrassingly aroused. As it was, his cocked twitched at the memory.
Severus sat at their small kitchen table, physically exhausted, but not sleepy. It was too early in the day. Phoebe set the teapot in front of him with two mugs, and took the seat opposite. She produced several decks of cards.
"Don't you have work to do?" Throughout the week she had worked with notes from her briefcase during the day, and on two evenings Apparated to cities somewhere in Britain to use a public phone and call the resort.
"I'm taking a day off. I imagine you're bored with reading and taking walks."
"You could teach me something."
She held up a deck. "Pinochle?"
He shook his head. "Bridge? Canasta?"
"You know canasta?"
"The teachers would sometimes play cards in the evenings."
She opened two decks and began shuffling them together. "I apologize in advance for the beating you are about to take."
He actually smiled. "You are the one who should be on her guard."
"Hah! Shall we wager?"
"Certainly, but not for money, since I have none." He had the ridiculous, juvenile thought of asking for a kiss for every point he had on her. With the way canasta was scored, a single win would result in a full session of snogging.
"Are you alright, Severus? You're looking a bit flushed."
"I'm fine." If anything, her notice made him flush deeper. "It's a bit warm in here."
"Really, I felt a little cold after being outdoors. That's why I made more tea."
He could take off his pullover for show, but the cottage actually had a slight chill. "I'm fine. Deal."
She gave him a skeptical look, but dealt. "Chores. We could play for chores."
"You already do them all."
She grinned. "I know, so when I win you can take some over for me."
"I'd do that anyway, but we had better think of something you are going to do, like answer a question."
"That's a better wager for poker, I think."
"Then let's play poker."
She paused, cards still in her hand. "You know, that could be even more intimate than removing clothing."
"If you don't want to, I'm happy to play for money. I need some way to earn some."
He'd tempted her, he could tell. She'd stopped dealing out canasta and held the deck close against her chest. There must be things she wanted to know.
"We'll have to have some boundaries," she said slowly. "The right to refuse."
"Certainly."
"I would rather you refuse to talk than lie to me."
"You think I would lie?" It hurt. It hurt so much he couldn't breath for a moment. Ridiculous, really, since he had lied all the time when he worked for Dumbledore. He even lied to Dumbledore, sometimes, when he thought it time to appease the Dark Lord a little.
"You were a spy, Severus. And a Death Eater." She gathered up the cards. "I was a dominatrix and I run a sex resort. I lie all the time, but not to the people closest to me. They either know the truth or know to leave it alone. I tell my family I don't want to talk about what I do for a living and that they're required to respect that."
She looked up from the cards on the table, as if sensing something in his sudden silence. "I respect you, Severus, but I also have a healthy respect for your need to protect yourself. We're alike in that way, I think. Don't you?"
He couldn't speak for a moment, only stare at this beautiful woman who thought she saw him so clearly. She didn't, he knew, but at that moment he wanted her almost enough to take advantage of her delusion. Then he shoved that desire down into the place he kept hopeless dreams. When she took off her rose-colored glasses, she would have no respect for him at all. No matter how much they shared, the differences mattered most.
"I think we're more alike than we realize," he said. Then, turning coward, he added, "I think I would rather just play canasta for points today. We'll see who wins."
*****
In the cool of the night, Phoebe had begun to lie awake in the darkness of her room after Severus retired, waiting for the first whimpers. Only a thin wall lay between where they slept, and she could usually hear the beginnings of his nightmares. By the time the whimpers rose to groans, the bed squeaking as he thrashed, she would be there.
She lay a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, Severus. Hush."
"No one." He rolled, jerking his shoulder out from under her hand. Those two words were the ones he most often said. Three nights passed before he added the third word that made sense of his distress. "No one cares."
"I care, Severus." She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm right here and I won't leave you."
"No."
She stroked his head, whispering the same things over and over -- "I'm here, I care about you" -- until he calmed and drifted back to normal sleep. His last words broke her heart over again every night. "I don't want to be alone any more." Eyes half-closed, head dropping from exhaustion, she would hear these words and force herself to remain by his side a little longer, until certain the nightmare would not return that night.
Each morning she slept a little later. With the resort lying on the other side of the world, it mattered little to her routine. Severus learned to make a breakfast that she liked and had it ready when she rose. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and that she often napped when he did in the afternoon, but she chose not to mention his nightmares. She could plainly see that Severus's valued his dignity and Felicity House had hacked away at enough of it for her to respect what little he had left.
The nightmares grew more frequent with his returning health. Phoebe didn't know how to recognize post-traumatic stress, and certainly had no idea what to do if he had it, except to be at his side when he needed her there. And he did need her with an almost child-like frequency. When she shopped or walked, he almost always asked to go along, following her like a puppy. Usually a brooding, silent puppy whose eyes followed her when she left the room. At first she thought it might be sign of some kind of attraction, but then saw it for was: separation anxiety. Severus, after over a year of isolation, feared abandonment. While she had no intention of leaving him, it put a greater weight on her already strained shoulders.
Paradoxically, he also occasionally sought solitude, slipping out the door to walk the grassy hillsides without saying a word of goodbye. Sometimes when she dared to follow, she would see his outline far off among the rocks. Sometimes he disappeared almost as soon as the door closed behind him, and she wondered if he Disapparated somewhere. All she knew was that he left agitated and returned calm. If that was what it took, she would let him have it.
Nearly every other day, though, they would find themselves at the shallow cliff over the beach, if the weather permitted. It turned into a place for confidences, questions asked and answered, no matter how personal, although they still respected certain boundaries. Severus spoke about his childhood, how his mother used magic to steal from Muggles, and his father beat them both. Phoebe told him of her break with her brother, and how her career had polarized her family. Both grew to respect how the other had borne their burdens without collapsing beneath them. They became friends.
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UnBroken