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

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8: No Longer Celia, but Aliena

When she next awakened, she heard the faint patter of rain as it continued to fall against the window. But there was also a small amount of daylight filtering in through the drawn curtains at the window. Snape was once again sitting in the chair by the side of the bed. However, this time he had apparently been reading, for by the time she glanced over at him, he was already arising and placing a large book upon the seat of the chair.

"It's finally morning then?" she asked, as she watch him bend down and pour a green powder into the tumbler that was sitting upon the table. As he filled the glass with water, she noted that the mixture took on a surprising number of different colors before settling upon a grayish cast.

"Late afternoon, actually," he replied, his eyebrows raising up slightly as he turned to look at her. "You appeared to be resting much more quietly, so I decided it was best not to disturb you." He placed the spoon upon a small saucer and then folded his arms and gazed down at her. "How are you feeling?"

She tried to move, and winced in pain. "Still pretty sore," she confessed, almost afraid that he would be affronted at the notion that she was not complete cured as yet.

"It is to be expected," he shrugged. "Your injuries are such that they will require some time to be completely healed. And in the meantime, the reparative process brings about its own share of aches and pains." He placed a straw within the glass and bent down to hold it for her, ignoring her outstretched hand.

She drank down the liquid as quickly as she could, still finding that she could not quite prevent a grimace from crossing her face as she did so. "Thank you," she murmured quietly, as he rose and placed the empty glass back upon the table.

He poured some more water into a second glass, and then paused and regarded her thoughtfully. "I should also assume," he said, tilting his head to the side, "That you need to attend to your bodily functions before I attempt any further healing spells?"

She felt a slight blush upon her cheeks as she nodded her head. He bent down to pull the covers away from her body and she found herself wondering if he had conjured up a bedpan and was going to place her upon it. As much as the idea horrified her, she had to admit that it didn't seem as if she was physically capable of walking into the bathroom at the moment.

But, to her surprise, he produced his wand and pointed it towards her. "Mobilicorpus!" he declaimed, and she felt her body suddenly lifting from the bed as if she were being held up by unseen hands. With another imperious wave of his wand, she found herself gliding across the room, her bare feet suspended an inch or so above the floor. Even though she was being well-supported, the abrupt movement from the bed after her prolonged inactivity was causing her to become rather light-headed, and the speed with which she was being whisked into the other room was definitely unsettling. After a few seconds, she found that it was necessary to close her eyes. Snape walked behind her, continuing to guide her, apparently.

"Oh, dear, are you feeling a little better?" she heard, unexpectedly, as she was threaded through the doorway of the dressing room.

"Yes," she managed to gasp, opening her eyes just a bit. By then, she was swooping into the bathroom and, as she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Snape was glaring menacingly at the mirror as he passed it. She assumed, correctly, that there would be no further conversation between them at the moment.

He returned his attention to her form and skillfully aimed with his wand so that she was set down gently upon the floor. Thrusting the wand into his pocket, he moved forward and supported her with one arm as his other hand began to pull up her nightgown.

"I can manage!" she sputtered.

He snorted loudly, but immediately released his hold upon the fabric. "Miss Graham," he said, raising up to his full, imperious height, while still supporting her elbow with his hand, "I am quite certain that by now you have regained your full memory of our previous encounter. And therefore, you are also aware that I am intimately acquainted with your body. Ergo, I fail to see why you persist in this sham display of modesty."

With a supercilious sneer, he retrieved his wand and once again aimed it in her direction. The next thing she knew, she was seated upon the toilet, with her nightgown pulled up and her underwear down around her ankles.

"However," he continued, as he began to stalk out of the room, "I shall leave you to your ablutions and trust that you will call to me when you are finished." He paused and scowled at her a moment. "Or if you find that you are in need of further assistance," he temporized, closing the door. "I shall be in the next room," his slightly muffled voice assured her.

She finished as rapidly as she could, half afraid that any delay would mean his impatient reappearance. Finally, she drew in a deep breath and, supporting herself on both arms, she managed to rise to her feet. It seemed to take an agonizingly long time, but she finally tugged her garments back to their proper position. Then, gripping tightly onto the vanity, she was able to shuffle over to a position in front of the sink. She concentrated on soaping up her hands and then raised her eyes and found herself gazing in horror at her reflection in the small, cracked mirror that hung on the wall above the basin.

Although the cuts seemed to be mending and fading rapidly, her face was still slightly swollen and her naturally pale complexion was stippled with a decidedly odd array of colors-black, blue, green, and yellow among them. But, even more ridiculously, her head was tightly and heavily bandaged in bits of bright blue fabric, which she instantly recognized was from a much-too-large tablecloth she had relegated to the rag pile a long time ago.

So that was what he had been tearing apart.

As she raised her hand to tentatively touch her face and head, she found herself chuckling at the absurdity of her appearance, although the pain from her injured ribs that accompanied her laughter prevented her from lapsing into complete hysteria.

The door behind her opened, and she saw Snape's frowning countenance appear beside her in the mirror. "I assume you are finished?" he asked, his tone indicating he was rather irritated at being kept waiting.

"Yes," she said, still smiling in a bemused manner as she heard him reiterate the spell and sweep her back into the other room. This time, she noted, the mirror made no attempt to speak with her as she passed. She managed to keep her eyes open and had to admit that the bed looked extremely enticing to her, as the brief time on her feet had quickly drained what little resources she had mustered.

Snape deposited her down upon the side of bed, in a seated position. She looked at him, bewildered for a moment as he began to plump the pillows and place them in a pile at the head of the bed.

"I must heal your ribs," he explained, as he eased her back against the pillows and helped her to lift her feet up onto the mattress, pulling the covers up to her waist. He turned away from her and began to busy himself with his seemingly endless supply of bottles. She took advantage of his preoccupation to pull her nightgown up to a position that exposed the bottom of her ribcage while still keeping her breasts covered. When he moved back to face her, the scissors was once again in his hands and he deftly cut through the layer of bandages which he had wrapped her in earlier. She noted that the tablecloth had served for this purpose as well. He threw the discarded cloth to the side and frowned as he began to slather some gel upon the exposed area. She drew in a breath as the cold lotion spread out upon the sensitive skin, and glancing down she saw that she was bruised here as well, the flesh darkened to an ugly shade of purple.

As he murmured his spell and the golden light once again shot out of his wand, she felt a warming, soothing sensation. And she found that her ability to take in a deep breath was improving considerably the longer that he concentrated upon the healing spell. After several minutes, he paused and ran his hand over the area. Although its outward appearance seemed unchanged, it was much less sore than it had been.

As he stood up, she found herself glancing towards the table.

"May I have some more water please?" she asked.

He nodded and held out the glass for her, as if he doubted her ability to lift it. She drank down the whole glass quickly and then watched expectantly as he refilled it with fresh liquid. To her disappointment, he did not offer her the glass again.

"I need to change the dressing on your scalp," he explained, as he saw the dejected look on her face. "Can you bear to lie on your left side for a moment, now?" he inquired, his arms already beginning to turn her in that direction.

He took her silence as an indication of her consent, and began to unwrap the bandages that were wound about her head. She found, to her surprise, that the loosening of the bandages caused a resurgence of her headache, although her medicine continued to make it bearable.

"Is it Sunday then?" she asked, suddenly, as she felt him remove the old dressing and toss it into the bin.

"Yes," he replied, somewhat distractedly as he used his fingers to apply a fresh coat of some kind of balm. "Why?"

"Uh, my rent is due by Tuesday morning, at the latest," she said, wincing slightly. Although the wound was not burning, it was somewhat itchy and she hoped that he would be finished soon.

"I have been perusing your account ledger," he said, and she heard him removing the cap from a bottle and pouring out some liquid. "It would appear that you have had quite an industrious and lucrative month," he said, the mockery in his tone quite evident. "I hope you do not expect me to believe that you are once more in need of a last-minute infusion of funds?"

"No, but-" she paused and took in a gasp of breath as the cool cloth was placed against the scar. As he began to wind the compress about her head, she continued: "My landlady said that if I was ever late in delivering it again, she would toss me out."

Hearing no reply from him, she bit her lip and continued, "I'm sure you can't be seen delivering it, but it's all set to go, in the drawer in the desk in the living room. You could just set it outside her door during the night and-"

"Please remain calm," he said, securing the ends of the binding. "You need not concern yourself about the matter."

There was something in the tone of his voice that did anything but reassure her. But when she repositioned herself, with his help, to be on her back again his face was smooth and unreadable. He handed her the water glass, this time allowing her to hold it herself, and busied himself with cleaning up the remnants of his ministrations.

"I think you should have something to eat," he intoned, retrieving his wand and moving towards the bureau. He uncovered a tray that was sitting there and began to perform a warming spell.

"Oh, I'm really not-" she began. But her nose had already caught the odor of freshly-baked bread, and she felt her stomach gurgle loudly.

"Just bread and broth for now," he said, striding back towards her with the tray. "I suppose you may have some herbal tea as well," he allowed, as he realized she had already emptied the water glass again.

"It does smell good," she admitted, sitting quietly as he positioned the tray over her lap. Besides a plate bearing several large slices of bread there was also a small bowl of steaming broth. And neatly folded on the side was a crisp, white napkin of fine damask. When he waved his wand again a cup of tea appeared. She picked up the spoon, intending to take a sip of the chicken broth. But she found that her hand was shaking so badly that she dared not try to lift it up to her lips.

She heard him laugh, and he reached out and relieved her of the implement, at the same time guiding a large piece of the bread into her hand. "It appears I should handle the liquid portion of the meal," he observed, reaching out with his other hand to unfold the napkin.

She contentedly began to nibble at the bread, pausing to slurp from the spoon as he began to feed her. "This is very good," she enthused, after several minutes.

"In your current condition, I should think you would be easily gratified," he said, dryly, as he dabbed at the corner of her lips with the napkin.. "However," he added, lifting the cup up to her lips, "I will admit that it is quite palatable."

"Did you make it?" she asked, her words somewhat distorted by her mouthful of bread.

"No," answered, emphatically. He played with the spoon for just a moment, twirling it in his fingers before raising it up for her again. "I went on a little shopping expedition this morning. To procure some food, and some reading material for myself," he explained.

She looked pointedly at the napkin in his hand.

"And a few other items," he added, laconically, as he dipped the spoon back into the bowl.

She bent her head to take another sip of the broth, and then suddenly her face seemed to pale, and she hurriedly shut her eyes.

"I'm afraid I'm very tired again," she said, quietly.

"Yes," he replied, standing up and removing the tray, "You should not over-exert yourself," he said softly, and he frowned slightly as he brushed his palm against her forehead as if checking for a fever. He nodded in satisfaction, and then bent over and removed some pillows from the pile. "Are you tired of lying on your back?" he asked.

"Yes. Please, could I lay on my right side for a while instead?" she replied.

He helped her into the new position, and then placed some of the pillows behind her to help support her back and legs. She heard him snort again and opened her eyes to see what he found so humorous now.

"Do you really intend to hold onto that crust of bread in your sleep?" he asked, as he removed it from her hand.

She made no reply, and he inferred, correctly, that she was already dozing.

******

When she next opened her eyes, the room was once again dark, and the rain appeared to have stopped. The only noise was the by-now-familiar murmur of his snoring, once again coming from beside her in the bed. She raised her head slowly to see what time it was and found herself amazed that the movement was much less painful than she had expected it to be.

It was two o'clock in the morning. And she was feeling much, much better. In fact, she thought, as she began to slowly ease her way out of the bed, she felt as though she was quite capable of making the trip to the bathroom on her own this time. She managed to work both feet out from under the covers, but the next thing she knew she was on the floor, her body having unequivocally decreed that her legs were not strong enough to support her. Not only had she made a horrendous amount of noise, but she had pulled all of the covers off of the bed and on top of her as she fell.

"Lumos!"

As light filled the room, she forced herself to raise her head and look up at Snape as he sat up in the bed. He wearing only his silk boxers and was looking down at her with an expression of irritation mixed with amusement.

"I thought I was well enough to walk on my own," she explained.

"Indeed," he observed, brushing back his hair with his hand and shooting his own glance at the clock. He slowly rolled over to her side of the bed and continued to peer down at her. "Are you sure you shouldn't have been placed in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff?" he inquired. In response to her puzzled look, he elaborated, "Those headstrong fools are always rushing in before they are properly trained, mistaking bravura for bravery."

"On the other hand," he said, as he arose from the bed to assist her, "You are a hopeless Hufflepuff."

After untangling her body from the bedclothes and getting her to her feet, he escorted her to the bathroom. She was able to accomplish the journey without the aid of a spell this time, though she did have to lean upon his arm. As they passed the mirror, she felt his body tense for a moment and she diplomatically averted her gaze, discouraging any further conversation with the magical device. She likewise made no objection when it became obvious that this time he intended to remain in the room with her. Truth be told, she was grateful for his help, as it made the process much simpler and quicker. Afterwards, he guided her to the sink, and while she was washing, she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, leaning tiredly against the wall with his eyes closed. His arms were crossed over his bare chest and she noticed that his wand was thrust into the waistband of his boxers.

Seeing the evidence of his own exhaustion, she hated to keep him up any longer than was absolutely necessary, but her unbrushed teeth could definitely no longer be ignored. She dried her hands and hesitated for a moment, and then reached out for her toothbrush, noting for the first time that there was a leather case on the vanity as well, and that it no doubt contained his toiletry items. As she spread the gel onto the brush, she ventured another glance at him.

"Tomorrow will be Monday," she said quietly, and then began to vigorously scrub her teeth.

"Today is Monday," he corrected, without opening his eyes.

She quickly completed her task before attempting to speak again. "Will you have to leave soon to go to Hogwarts, then?" she asked, filling a glass with rinse water.

"No, I have made some arrangements," he replied, shortly.

She felt herself begin to sway slightly and was grateful to feel him immediately reach out to catch her arm and prop her up again. With no further elaboration, he led her back to the bed. She had to admit that on the return trip she was much more dependent upon his support, and she murmured her thanks once more as he helped her into the bed. He made no reply, but concentrated upon retrieving the blankets from the floor and remaking the bed. That accomplished, he bent over to dim the lamp and then walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but despite her persistent weariness, she found that sleep eluded her. Trying to make as little movement or noise as possible, she slowly turned onto her left side and looked over at her companion. He was lying on his back, his left arm curled over his head and his right arm lying across his chest. She suddenly realized that he was clutching his wand in this hand. After a moment, she became aware of the fact that his own eyes had opened and that he was staring back at her.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, as his eyebrows arched upward.

"I was going to ask you the same question," she replied. Wrinkling her brow, she gestured towards his hand and asked, "Do you always arm yourself in your sleep?"

"Not always," he said, turning onto his right side and yawning tiredly. "However, considering your recent unpleasant experience with an uninvited guest, it would appear to be a prudent measure." He closed his eyes, signaling that the subject was now closed.

******

She would have sworn that she had just dozed off, but when she opened her eyes, his side of the bed was once again empty and sunlight was streaming into the room. Additionally, there was a distinct hubbub rising from the street below, indicating that Monday, and the workweek, had begun. She rolled over onto her other side and craned her neck to check the time. To her consternation, it was nearly eleven. She sat up and stretched, noting with satisfaction that she was feeling much better. Although upon seeing the full glass that was rather prominently displayed upon the tabletop, she was could also not deny that her body was still quite sore and aching.

She reached out and grasped the tumbler, brought it to her lips, and took a hearty swallow. Her eyes widened in surprise as the liquid rolled over her tongue, since the flavor was unmistakably different than it had been in the past, with a slightly sweet after-taste. She held out the glass at arms length and studied it. Well, she decided, it certainly wasn't plain water. Perhaps, since she was beginning to feel better, he had decided to change the medication or the dosage. At any rate, she shrugged her shoulders and drank down the rest of the dose without worrying about it and then moved so that her feet hung over the side of the bed.

What was beginning to worry her, however, was the fact that it did not sound like he was in the flat. Although she hadn't made a great deal of noise, she rather assumed that he would have heard her stirring, and come into the bedroom to check on her. She strained her ears to hear any noise coming from the living room or the bathroom, restraining herself from chuckling when the idea occurred to her that she had, as yet, to see him make use of the facilities. She supposed he might possibly be in one of the other rooms, and she probably should check with him before trying to make her own way to the bathroom, but that raised another dilemma for her.

She shook her head and stared at her toes for a moment. What on earth was she supposed to call him? In her mind, she had begun to think of and refer to him as simply "Snape", but she somehow didn't feel it quite right to blurt out merely his surname. On the other hand, she had to admit that she couldn't remember what his first name was. At Hogwarts, some of her classmates had dared, (under their breaths of course), to refer to him as "Severely Snapped" or "Severed Snip", and she had an inkling that his true name was something like Severeus or Severtus, but neither sounded quite right to her. To call him "Professor" also seemed a bit formal after their recent intimacy but, on the other hand, he had referred to her as "Miss Graham." Of course, there had been more than a touch of sarcasm in his tone when he addressed her by that appellation.

She shrugged her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "Professor Snape?" she called out. The silence was deafening, and she found herself tempted to collapse into a fit of giggles as she realized she had agonized in vain-he was simply not on the premises. Slowly, and being careful to support some of her weight on her arms, she eased her feet onto the floor. The aching muscles of her calves and thighs screamed mightily in protest at being called upon to move, but they seemed more willing than they had been the night before of supporting her. She shuffled slowly over to the door of the bedroom, reaching out and taking hold of the doorknob with a sigh of relief and leaning on it slightly as she made her way into that small room. A glance at the open door of the bathroom confirmed that he was not occupying that chamber, so she felt confident enough to make her way to the vanity and sit down at the chair for a moment.

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you before," she apologized. "But, he didn't seem to like it when you spoke to me." Laughing slightly, she leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially, "I rather think he's hardly the type to appreciate someone commenting on his appearance."

She waited in vain for a reply. Puzzled, she studied her reflection for a moment before asking: "Are you upset with me?"

Still, there was no answer. After a few moments, she shook her head angrily. "No, he's decided to muzzle you, hasn't he?" she asked, rather rhetorically. Feeling an inexplicable chill, she hugged her arms around herself and then glanced over at the bathroom again. She had the sudden, incomprehensibly disturbing notion that perhaps he had decided she was well enough to take care of herself and had returned to Hogwarts. She pushed herself to her feet and made her way into the room, as much to assure herself that his toiletries were still there as to attend her own needs. She sighed in relief upon seeing that his case was still lying upon the countertop.

She was washing her hands when she heard his footsteps as he walked through the dressing room. He paused to knock upon the door, but did not wait for a response before pushing it open. He stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment before speaking. She noticed that he was wearing only his shirt and trousers again, and wondered slightly at the fact that he had ventured out with neither his clock nor frock coat.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, and she could not quite decide if there was suspicion or concern coloring his voice.

"Just a few minutes," she replied.

He glided over to her and turned her around, his fingers gripping her chin and jerking her head up as he looked into her face.

"Well, you are looking much improved," he finally allowed. "Your eyes are definitely much clearer than they have been." He dropped his fingers and took a step backward, perusing her whole body with a critical air. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," she said, smiling and moving to hang the washcloth upon the towel rack. "Very sore still, but starting to feel back to normal."

He nodded and pursed his lips for a moment. "Do you require my help to get back to the other room?" he asked.

"No, I'm-I'm fine," she assured him, her smile and her happiness at his return fading rapidly.

"Then I shall go and see to your breakfast," he said, turning and striding out of the room without waiting for a reply.

She bit her lip and shivered again, feeling a little at a loss for the subtle but undeniable change in his manner this morning. He had seem pleased that she was improving, but something wasn't quite right.

By the time she hobbled back into the bedroom, he had cleared the bedside table of its other items and had placed a tray of food upon it, pulling it away from the bed so that she could fit her legs underneath it. He watched her carefully, but made no attempt to help her as she approached the bed, although he did unfold the napkin (another new one, she noted) and helped to place it upon her lap before pushing the table closer to her.

She bent over the tray and sniffed, a smile of pleasure breaking out upon her face in spite of her underlying anxiety. There was a bowl of porridge, a small dish containing a shirred egg, and a plentiful supply of toast and marmalade. And the tea this time was of a fragrant jasmine variety.

"A girl could get spoiled with this kind of treatment," she teased, trying again to cajole him into a better mood. "Aren't you going to have any?"

"I ate my breakfast hours ago," he replied. Raising his eyebrows, he continued, "I, unlike some people, arose early today." As he moved back to his own chair he added, "I had some business to attend to this morning."

"Yes," she said, "I'm sorry that I've been so much trouble to you." She wondered if she should ask him just when he was planning on leaving her and returning to Hogwarts, but a quick glance at his stony face as he settled down into his chair made her decide to concentrate on eating instead. For the next quarter of an hour, there was no other sound in the room besides the clinking of silverware against china and the crunching of toast.

"Well," she said finally, wiping her mouth and placing the napkin on the tray, "That was very good, and I am definitely feeling almost back to normal now."

He nodded and arose, slowing moving his hand to retrieve his wand from his pocket. With a wave of his hand, the tray hovered in the air for a moment, and then wafted over to the bureau.

"Feeling quite well, are we?" He was standing with his arms crossed, his wand still held in his hand.

"Yes," she assured him. She lowered her head and watched as her fingertips tapped nervously against the surface of the table. "Since I'm able to get around by myself now, there's no need for you to stay. I'm sure you need to get back to the school-although, I'm grateful to you, of course."

She almost added "How can I repay you?" But the thought had suddenly occurred to her that there was little doubt how he expected to be recompensed. She anticipated that in the upcoming weeks and months she would be providing her services to him without charge-including subjecting herself to a series of "detentions."

"Leave, Miss Graham? I would not think of it," he replied, with a sneer. She gulped and shivered again in fear at the iciness in his tone. "Not, at least, until I have helped you with all of your...chores," he spat out.

The next thing she knew he was striding angrily towards the dressing room, and she heard the sound of a drawer being yanked open and then slammed shut. When he came back into the room she saw, to her horror, that he was carrying her inkwell in one hand and her "hidden" journal in the other. He placed the former gently upon the makeshift desk, and then raised his arm and slammed the book down upon it with such force that the entire table shook.

"Oh, gods," she whispered, feeling sick and weak again. "Please, you don't understand-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Miss Graham. It isn't hard to comprehend when someone is gathering material so that they may blackmail you," he hissed.

"No!" she protested, "That was never my intention."

"Indeed!" he huffed, his hand reaching out and snatching the journal up again. "Let us see-are you telling me that you recorded the details about this pompous ass who warmed your bed immediately before I entered it simply out of boredom?" He tossed the book down upon the table again. "By the way, I am sure you will be thrilled to know that I can provide you with the little sycophant's name-he is a Mr. Percy Weasley," he said, at the same time grabbing the quill from the well and scratching the words unto the page. "Although I really wouldn't expect to gain much from that quarter-he and his entire family are as poor as church mice. But, then I don't think you really held out much hopes in that regard anyway, since he earned only a mere paragraph. But elsewhere-," he said, picking up the book again and beginning to skim through its pages, "It appears that "Mr. Blond" warranted a full page, filled with quite shocking details. And then, of course, there is the not one but two pages devoted to me!" he roared. "My, you were very fastidious in trying to recreate our encounter, weren't you?"

"You had obliviated me, " she cried, as tears began to stream down her face. "I had to try-"

"Yes, I obliviated you," he replied, closing the book and leaning down upon the table to loom over her. "Taking special care that I was only erasing your memory of that night. And it took me an extraordinarily long time to achieve that objective, sifting carefully and selectively through your memories before I left. I hope you are aware of the fact that, if I wished, I could have so thoroughly obliterated your memory that, when you awoke, you wouldn't have even remembered your own name." He flipped the book open again, this time to a fresh page. "Shall we begin here, with an addendum to that evening so that you may add a few more details?"

She shook her head and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. She wanted to be angry with him, to rail against him and upbraid him for the audacity of his own words and actions. But, instead she was ashamed and helpless, feeling just as embarrassed and inept as he had always managed to make her feel about her inevitable failures in the potions classroom.

"Oh, come now, the night of your unfortunate encounter, I even went to the trouble of allowing you to regain those memories. It seems a pity not to write down all the additional information."

She stared up at him for a moment, suddenly realizing why she had been aware of his voice and her own muted responses as she had slumbered-he had been nudging her back into remembrance, allowing the memories to resurface without the physical pain that had discouraged them previously.

"I am certain that you now recall quite clearly how you responded to my attention," he sneered. "How I brought you to climax, screaming like a banshee, with my body." He paused and bent down over her again, so that he could whisper into her ear, "Surely you recollect how it felt to have my fingers and my tongue pleasuring you."

Yes, she certainly did. But at the moment her memories of her schooldays, when she had seen him go livid with rage and scream and spit at a hapless student until the poor youngster had wet himself were much more real. "Please," she said, "You have to understand, I never meant to blackmail you-or anybody."

He snorted in derision. "Then why keep such a book?"

She rubbed her suddenly-throbbing forehead with her fingers and closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to come up with a suitable answer. "All right, I did keep such information in case I really was desperate for money someday-but only if it got bad enough that I didn't have a roof over my head or food to eat! I wouldn't have used it under any other circumstances."

"Oh, I see," he replied. "Once again you are assuring me of what a noble little whore you are. And tell me, Miss Graham, just how do you suppose 'Mr. Blond' would respond to a plea for help from your quarter if it was accompanied by the threat of exposure behind it?"

She shivered again, this time finding that even her teeth was chattering.

"Which brings us of course," he said, opening up the book and shoving both it and the quill towards her, "To the subject of last Saturday's fiasco."

"Please," she whispered again, "I don't want to remember any of it, not ever."

"Oh, but unless you wish me to obliviate you again, you have no choice, do you?" he smirked. "Why don't I make it easy for you? You don't have to write down everything that happened. Just write down the names that you heard."

She sat staring down at the book, her hands twisting helplessly in her lap. "I didn't hear any names," she declared.

He laughed shortly. "You know, you are such a pitiful liar that it is a wonder why you even bother to prevaricate." He reached over the table with both hands and forced the quill into her right hand. "Write down the names that you heard, Miss Graham, all of them."

With a very shaky hand she began to move the nib across the page. After a minute or so, she put the quill down and he bent over to see what she had written:

Knott. MacNair. Krabbengoyle.

He snorted. "Are you being coy with me?" he demanded.

She shook her head and looked more frightened than ever.

"At the least," he corrected, "You are not being completely honest with me. I am certain you heard the leader being referred to by both his first and last name?"

She swallowed and took up the quill again. When she was finished, the words, "Luceus Malphoy" were written in a spidery, jittery hand.

He nodded and then glared at her again. "At least one other name was mentioned, I am certain?"

She stared up at him, afraid that she was angering him by appearing to stall when she was actually had no clue as to what information he was seeking.

His frown deepened. "Was my name mentioned?" he inquired.

She nodded in reply.

"Then write it down as well," he commanded, his voice clear and frigid.

The name Snape appeared besides the others.

"Very well," he said, quietly. "And now write down what you think all those names have in common."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and her face paled even more. But she opened her eyes, dipped the quill back into the ink and wrote two more words at the very bottom of the page: Death Eater.

"Yes." That single word seemed to linger in the air.

She replaced the pen in the inkwell and stared down at her hands once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him retrieve his wand and point it at the journal. With a wave of his hand, the entire book suddenly exploded into flames, burning brightly for a few seconds before leaving nothing but a small pile of ashes on the table.

"You must realize," he began, and now his voice was silky and low, "That they have assumed the other key piece of evidence has likewise been destroyed."

She frowned and looked up at him.

"Why do you think I was allowed to remove you from that room, Miss Graham?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Because they had my assurance, my solemn word, rather," he said softly, "that you would be disposed of," he said, allowing himself a small smile before adding, "quietly."

She swallowed and felt the tears welling in her eyes again.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, an evil grin starting to spread across his face, "I assured them that it would be a pleasure, as it would give me a chance to test out some new, extremely toxic formulations of poisons." He turned towards the bureau and called out, "Accio glass," and the tumbler flew into his hands. "You did take your medicine this morning, didn't you?" he asked, softly.

"Oh, dear Merlin," she whimpered, "You didn't!"

"No, I did not," he agreed, "But I could have." He placed the glass upon the surface of the table, next to the charred remains of the book. "And, I think it is time that you and I reach an agreement." He placed both of his hands on the table and leaned down over the table again.

"It appears, Miss Graham, that you are in urgent need of a protector, does it not?"

She stared down at the floor and nodded.

"And I, on the other hand, am a wizard who has been forced to deny himself the solace of feminine companionship for many years, despite the fact that I am in possession of a healthy-" Here he interrupted himself and laughed for a moment, "Or, if you would prefer, a prodigious sexual appetite." He slowly moved the stand to the side and then stepped forward and cupped her chin in his hand. "It would appear that we just might be able to come to a mutually satisfying arrangement, does it not?" he repeated.

She allowed him to raise her head, but her eyes remained blurry with tears and unfocused. There was a strange stab of disappointment, a peculiar tightness across her chest. She should have known that he hadn't done what he had because of any true emotional attachment to her. No, she was merely a warm body, a willing bedmate, a thing to be enjoyed and tossed aside when he had tired of her. But, for the moment at least, she was his choice for a sexual partner.

"Do you understand?" he asked, quietly.

She swallowed and nodded her head, blinking back the tears. "Yes," she replied, still not meeting his eyes, but concentrating on looking at one of the buttons on his shirt, "I am to make myself available to you, for free, whenever you are in the city."

He dropped his hand away from her chin and began to laugh, very loudly. "Dear woman," he chided, placing his hands upon his hips in a most exasperated manner, "There are times when you are unbelievably obtuse."

She frowned and finally raised her eyes to stare directly at his face, noting that his eyebrows were raised and his head was tilted to the side.

"No," he continued, shaking his head slightly, "It appears that you have been abruptly promoted from strumpet to courtesan.." He considered that for a moment, and then continued, with a slight smile on his face, "Although I must admit I might prefer the term 'concubine', with its attendant oriental connotations."

Seeing the rather blank look on her face, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Then there is the more vulgar term, to simply refer to you as a 'kept woman'," he muttered.

She shook her head, as if still not quite understanding. "You mean that you will-" And then she paused, as if uncertain of what to say.

"I shall provide your lodging, food and clothing-and the last will be decidedly more sophisticated under my tutelage," he elaborated. "I shall also allow you a small stipend to spend on yourself or invest as you see fit-within reason of course. I certainly do not intend that you should be tempted to walk the streets in order to secure a little extra spending money. In fact," here he leaned over her again, "I want it expressly understood that you are not to seek out male companionship of any kind." There was a special note of warning in this last statement.

"Of course," she replied, nodding vehemently. "It's very kind of you to do this," she added, quietly.

"Oh, please Miss Graham," he huffed contemptuously, "I am sure that you of all people should know that I never do anything unless there is some reward for myself." He folded his arms over his chest again. "I take it we have an agreement, then?"

She nodded once more.

He dipped his head and examined his fingernails for a moment. Without raising his chin, he warned, "But you must also realize that I may not always be the kindest of masters?" He looked up at her and took in a quick breath before continuing: "I am moody and temperamental, and may vent my frustrations and seek my release with you in more than purely sexual means?"

She dropped her eyes and bit her lip before replying, "Yes."

"But, I do swear never to cause you permanent mental harm or physical damage of any kind. Or to allow anyone else to hurt you." He smiled sardonically at the thought. "I am certain that by now you understand that I am quite proprietary."

"Yes."

"Yes, sir," he corrected.

"Yes, sir," she repeated, promptly.

"Then," he said, grasping the table with his hands and pulling it away from the bed, "May I suggest that you gather your things as quickly as you can so that we may leave?"

She looked back up at him, startled. "Leave?" she repeated, looking quite confused.

"Well, you certainly don't think that I intend to keep you here?" he snarled, looking extremely annoyed again. "Not the least reason being that Mr. Malfoy just might want to pay a visit to assure himself that you are no longer in residence."

She shivered in response.

"Fortunately, I have already managed to secure another flat."

"Oh," she replied, her mouth opening in surprise.

"And we should leave here as soon as possible," he added.

She nodded and rose to her feet. "Yes, I understand," she said. She started towards the cupboard, "But, how much should I-"

"Not much," he replied. "As I stated, I am going to be supplying you with a whole new wardrobe. You need merely take a few pieces of basic clothing for now. And any personal keepsakes that you wish to take with you."

She hesitated and turned back to him, as if torn what she should do first. "I should pay the rent, I suppose."

He snorted and shook his head. "Indeed you should not. The whole purpose is to persuade anyone who might be interested in your disappearance that you departed the premises in order to avoid eviction, taking only the bare essentials with you and leaving no hint that any foul play was involved." He took a few steps closer to her and gestured towards the living room. "Although, of course, you should take any money you have with you. And, I assure you," he added, seeing a small look of concern cross her face, "That it shall remain yours to do with as you like."

He moved slightly to the side and produced his wand again. With a small popping sound, a small leather valise appeared on the floor. "I should suggest, however, that you limit yourself to whatever can be carried in this."

She nodded and hurried on into the other room. She walked over to the desk and pulled out the top drawer. The bag of money that she had reserved for the rent was still sitting there, and she quickly added the rest of her coins to the sack. She placed this and the account journal on top of the desk and then went searching through the rest of the drawers, pulling out a few items and stacking them on top as well. Then she stood up and looked over the rest of the room. Besides her purse sitting upon a chair and her cloak hanging on the rack near the door, she doubted there was much else that she needed to take with her from this room. The furniture, of course, had all come with the flat, so she had no claim upon any of it.

She had just finished adding the last items to the pile when she suddenly gasped and turned to stride back into the other room. He was walking out of the dressing room, holding his leather toiletry case, which he proceeded to hand over to her.

"I have packed a few items of yours as well," he explained, "But you may want to add some more," he said, jerking his head back in the direction of the bathroom.

"May I take the mirror with me?" she asked, anxiously.

He frowned and looked at her suspiciously. "Is it yours?"

She shook her head. "No, it was here when I came, but I rather-"

"No," he said, emphatically. "It is not something that you could easily take with you, and besides-" He paused and cleared his throat, "I do not believe it would be appropriate for where we are going."

"Will you at least take the spell off of it?" she implored.

"The enchantment I placed upon it will wear off in a month or so," he promised. Upon seeing her concerned expression, he added, "Surely you must realize that it is for its own protection as well as ours? If Malfoy were to question it, it could cause quite unwanted complications."

She nodded her head sadly and then turned and slowly made her way into the bathroom, shutting the bedroom door behind her. She added a few items to the case and then walked back to the dressing room and sat down at the vanity. She quickly searched through the drawers and retrieved a few articles that she wished to take with her. Then she leaned over the counter, reaching out her hand to stroke gently at the wooden frame as she whispered, "I'll miss you."

To her surprise, the mirror seemed to be filled with a wispy fog for a moment, and when it cleared there were some faint words written in the middle of the glass.

I will miss you also.

After a moment, the words vanished, but they were replaced by new ones.

You will be safe with him.

"I think so," she replied, quietly.

But, you must obey him.

Then those words vanished also. Behind her, the door creaked open and she looked up to see Snape's face reflected in the mirror. "We should be going," he urged her.

She nodded and arose from chair, picking up the case and the other items as she stood. She saw that he had already retrieved the items she had gathered in the living room and placed them in the valise. Within a few more minutes, she had gathered up some items of clothing, and a few small boxes from the drawers of her bureau and packed them as well. She noticed, as she did so, that his cloak and frock coat were already packed away in the bag.

"I guess that's all," she murmured, looking about the room. "Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, heading towards the bedside table. She pulled open the drawer and took out her wand, "I guess I don't want to leave this, do I?" she said.

"Indeed not," he replied, holding out his hand. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, he explained, "I am certain Mr. Malfoy will be delighted when I present him with this. He will no doubt jump to the conclusion that you are no longer in need of it."

She nodded and reluctantly surrendered it to him. "That's all then," she said quietly. "I'll just get dressed."

"No, there's no need," he replied, shaking his head, "We'll be apparating directly into the new flat." He bent down and examined the contents of the valise for a moment, and then suddenly straightened and headed in the direction of the living room. When he returned she saw, to her amusement, that he was holding the unopened bottles of cognac.

"You might as well pack some of the glasses as well," she teased, as he packed the bottles into the case.

He shot her a sardonic glance. "I already have moved those," he assured her.

She wrinkled her brow for a moment. She had looked quickly through the cupboard, and it had seemed the glasses were still there.

"Just two of each," he clarified, as he fastened the case and stood. "As I stated previously, you will not be doing a great deal of entertaining in your new residence." He pointed his wand at the case and with another small popping sound it disappeared again. "Are you ready to leave?"

"But," she stammered, "I really can't, I mean I've never been able to-"

"I hardly expect you to perform the spell by yourself," he proclaimed, acidly. He shook his head and held out his arms and she slowly walked towards him. She tentatively put her arms around him and shivered involuntarily for a moment, until she felt his fingers move gently over the small of her back, reassuring her and he murmured into her ear:

"Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment"

She nodded and clasped her arms around him, closing her eyes as the room began to disappear from view. She felt a strangely weightless sensation and her arms tightened around him even more.

"I believe it is safe for you to release me now," he mocked.

She opened her eyes again and saw that they were standing in a large, well-lit but empty room.

"Unless, of course, it is your intention to strangle me."

It took her a moment to realize that she was still clinging to him with her arms flung about his neck. With an embarrassed laugh, she relinquished her hold and stepped out of his embrace to examine the room more closely while Snape turned his attention to unpacking the valise.
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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost