by Houses

Previous, 33, 34, To Be Continued...

Chapter 32

"You're sulking."

Draco glared at the redhead. "No. I'm. Not." He threw he cloak over the small table by the fire and bent to fish the collection of trunks and bags out of the pocket.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "Yes you are. Draco, look at me."

He turned, silver eyes flashing. "What?"

"There is nothing for you to be upset about." Willow relaxed her posture and took a few steps closer. "Nothing. Do you hear me?"

He snarled and divided the luggage into his and hers piles. She watched him wordlessly as he gathered up her belongings and dropped them into the now empty cookie box on the shelf. "I hear you. I also heard you earlier when you announced to my mind that he was lickable." The young wizard thrust the box at her. "Here."

She sighed and took it, curling it against her chest. "Draco…"

"I know how he feels about you. It's obvious. And now… you're going to be staying with him. Alone. For two days."

"That's silly; you know you can visit."

Running his fingers through his shorn locks, Draco spun around. "Right. I can. When I'm not here pretending to be sick and going through a breakdown. Or dealing with my mother. Or whatever else he managed to maneuver me into doing while he was me." He stalked closer. "Or did you forget that? He was me. And now you're going back down there to him." He grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you get it?"

The confusion and pain shone so clearly on his face that Willow relented. "Yeah, I get it. I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but…"

He lowered his head to rest his forehead on hers. "But it's the only way. I know that too." He let go of her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her, smushing the box between them. Fiercely, he growled out, "Mine. You are always mine."

She smiled faintly. "I know." She tilted her face up and kissed him lightly. "And I-"

"Have to go." He sighed and kissed the side of her neck, nipping lightly with his teeth. "And I have to go find out what I did while I was away." He rolled his eyes. "Now that's a sight I'd pay to see. Snape as the student again."

She giggled. "He's not really the hyper teen sort is he?"

"A world of no. Guess pretending to have a high fever would cover up any weird behavior. Sick people sometimes are really strange."

She nodded. "Oh yes." She sobered after a heartbeat. "Draco?"

"Hmm?" He'd turned away and was rummaging at the bottom of his wardrobe for the pensive.

"What do you think your mother wants?"

He stood, balancing the bowl filled with mercury light and looking for a good place to put it. "I have absolutely no idea. She's never come alone to visit me at Hogwarts before. Usually she sends stuff, or sends Father."

"Then what…" Her wide green eyes were concerned. "Do you think she knows?"

"About me being gone? Or about us?"

"Either."

He thought for a moment, peering down into the inactive pensive. "I just don't know." He sighed, leading Willow over to the fireplace. "My mother is many things, but unobservant isn't one of them. I've never been truly sick at school before, so she could be concerned about that. I always wondered if she had a bit of the sight about her, or whether it was just motherly intuition." He shook his head. "I guess I'll see in the morning."

Willow clutched the box in her free hand and wrapped the other around her lover's neck, bending him down so she could kiss him passionately. "I guess you will. You know where to find me if you need me." He nodded. "I love you."

He grinned then, showing sharp teeth. "I know."

With that, he threw the floo powder into the hearth and watched Willow disappear into a puff of green flames. When the magical fire had completely gone out, he turned back to the work table, pensive shining faintly in the gloom, waiting patiently.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Willow stepped out of the fire, coughing slightly. "I am never going to get used to that. Severus?" She called softly, and there was no answer. She looked around the sitting room, but nothing had changed since her earlier visit. She walked to the small hallway leading to his private lab and noticed an open door.

She stepped up to it, peering around the frame, and smiled. The old storage closet had been transfigured into a small, but functional, guest room done in shades of pale green and silver. The comforter was a light spring green with shimmering leaves embroidered around the edges, piled up with pillows depicting various trees, grasses and flowers, all in range of light and dark greens. The bed itself was a dark wood four poster, with airy canopy of starlight colored wisps, carved with the shapes of twinning vines running up the posts.

And right in the middle of the bed, as if he'd fallen over mid-swish, was the still half clad professor. His now dry hair covered half of his face and he was shivering slightly in the chill of the dungeons. There was no fire in the former closet, and all the heat had to permeate from the sitting room. Willow noted the goose bumps on his pale arms and back and frowned.

He had done all of this for her, even as exhausted as he had been. The potions master had even chosen things Willow would have liked to make the room feel more homey and less 'stick the guest in a closet'-y. Of course, it did have his signature Slytherin stamp on everything, feminine as it was. She narrowed her eyes in thought before rattling the box in her hand slightly.

She tumbled the collection of bags onto the small table top by the wall and selected the one she thought contained clothes. Kneeling on the floor, she touched the bag lightly with one finger tip, smiling as it bloomed into the bag she was looking for. Severus had started to snore lightly when she undid the heavy leather buckle and pulled out a pair of pajamas covered in fluffy clouds. She grinned and wandered back through his rooms to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Staring into the mirror, she had to wonder about what she was going to do next. She did promise Draco nothing would happen, and nothing would, but she couldn't leave the dark haired wizard there to freeze. And something about sleeping in his bed felt… wrong. With a spit and a sigh, she changed into the flannels and crept back to her room. Gently, she nudged him over, pulling the linens from beneath his body, and rolled him over onto his side.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, she climbed into the bed behind him, pulling the covers up over them both. He whuffled, then, mumbling something, and wiggled further down on the soft mattress until his head was off the pillow completely. Willow smiled, flicked off the light, and curled up on the other side of the bed, exhausted.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Soft morning light streamed through the curtains into the head boy's room; one stray beam cutting right across Draco's closed eyes. It was earlier than he usually got up, and he groaned and rolled over, desperate for just a few more minutes of rest before his eyes popped open in mild panic. His mother would be there soon and he still had to take care of the bruises and glamour something up about his appearance.

He sat up stiffly and looked around at the mild chaos his room had become. He slid out of bed, hissing at the cold stone and wobbled to the bathroom, picking up his wand on the way. He turned before shutting the door and muttered a few household cleaning charms. They had never been his specialty, but he figured they were worth a shot, at least until he could come out there and straighten things out himself.

A quick scrub, rinse and toweling off had him back in pair of forest green sweats. He figured this was close enough to what he'd been wearing in the pensive, and seemed appropriate for being ill. He noted the somewhat successful charms with a lopsided smile and hurriedly stuffed the few lost bags and books under his bed.

He stood in front of the full length mirror on the wardrobe and examined his appearance carefully. He decided to leave the hair, claiming that it made him hot and sticky, but he'd have to hide the earrings. Draco didn't know why he was so taken with them, other than they were different, but he had no interest in getting rid of them. The Muggle at the store said he had to leave them in for six weeks to be permanent, and he had no intention of doing otherwise. The bruises were faded to a mild yellow at this point, and the scrape on his cheek and chin was almost gone. A few passes with the wand covered them up and left him looking only a bit sallow and ill. He shrugged, figuring that was the goal to begin with.

Making sure that everything incriminating was hidden, he climbed back into bed, sinking down into the feathers and pulling the comforter up to his chin. He willed himself to relax and had succeeded so well by the time the knock came at his door that he had to yank himself awake.

Sleepily, he called out, "Come in."

The door swung open to reveal a concerned looking Dumbledore robed in electric blue. He stepped through, followed closely by Narcissa Malfoy. She was tall and graceful, shining blonde hair pulled back into an intricately woven bun at the back of her neck. The dark charcoal robes hugged lean curves and she clutched a small bag in her left hand. Rings and bracelets glittered with pale colored stones on her wrists and fingers, and a large diamond teardrop gleamed at her neck.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. You are looking better this morning. Perhaps the rest has done you good." Dumbledore waved two chairs over two chairs to Draco's bedside and sat down. Narcissa stood at her son's side, looking down at him closely before bending to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Draco, dear, you've cut your hair." She narrowed her eyes and sat down.

He flinched involuntarily. "Yes, Mother. It was getting sticky and hot, and kept getting in the way. I just thought…"

She smiled then, secret mirth playing in her eyes. "I quite understand. And it does look smashing, dear. You should have tried that years ago; I wish your father would."

Both Dumbledore and her son stared at her in mild shock. She grinned wider. "As handsome as my husband is, he could do with a bit of a fashion update now and then."

Draco nodded numbly, and Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As you can see, Madame Malfoy, your son is feeling much better. He seems to have over extended himself this year, both academically and athletically. The forced rest of his illness has done him good on all fronts."

The young wizard looked rapidly back and forth between the two adults and heaved an inner sigh of relief when his mother nodded. "I can see that, Headmaster. My son has always pushed himself hard when he believes that the rewards are worthwhile. And this semester he seems to have found several projects of interest."

Draco froze, but the elderly man nodded. "I assure you, Madame, everything has been done to provide your son the best of care."

She waved her hand airily. "I have no doubt of that. He seems as satisfactory as the situation would allow."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am happy to hear that."

She patted Draco's hand and faced the headmaster. "I appreciate your concern, but my child and I have several matters to discuss. If you wouldn't mind…"

"Of course not. Mister Malfoy, Madame, I'll be in my offices should you need me. It's been lovely to see you again and please come back soon." He bowed slightly and let himself out the door.

Narcissa turned her pale blue eyes on her son, all joviality gone. "Draco, you've been a very busy boy recently."

"Mother-"

"Ah, ah, watch what you're going to say." She leaned forward, peering into his eyes. "Over the past month I've had two very interesting owls. First from Alfonse Gliberman. He thanked me for the referral and enquired as to how your… project… was coming, and wondered whether he could expect any further business from either of us in the future. It was his polite way of asking whether you were alive; it's bad for business to inadvertently allow the son of a major client to destroy himself. Then, only two days ago, I received my monthly account statement from Gringotts. Did you know they send me an inventory of our bank vault each month?"

Draco shook his head dumbly.

"No? Well, it had some very interesting withdrawls this statement; withdrawls that I'm positive neither your father or I made." She smiled then, the smile of one society lady happily slicing another into sad, pathetic bits in a very public setting. Draco shivered. His mother idly stroked the back of his wrist.

"Mother-"

"I'm not finished. Did you know that Pansy Parkinson is worried about you? Seems you've been behaving oddly recently, looking generally unwell, and are very touchy. She's talked to her mother about it; Patricia kindly dropped by for tea one afternoon, wondering how you were doing. What do you think I had to say about that? Especially since only that morning, the morning after the withdrawls, I'd had a lovely note from your charming Headmaster explaining that you had suffered an unfortunate collapse?"

Draco was barely breathing now. He'd know that his mother was always informed, but this was borderline unnerving. He opened his mouth but Narcissa laid one elegant hand across his lips. "Shh. I'm not finished. I told you to be careful when you left this year, that your father would eventually figure things out. He's not as well connected as I am, socially, but I'm sure even he'll hear things soon. You have to be more cautious, dear." She smiled sadly. "Who is she?"

"Erm…"

"I know what book you took. I know what spell ingredients you used. I know they have a short shelf life. I know that you're still here, even if you look a little worse for the wear. I know you've taken Gran Annalise's ring. I know you've changed your appearance radically. I remember you asking me about a girl, a girl named Willow Rosenberg; a girl neither Muggle, nor Mud-blood, nor witch."

Draco blinked. "How… Mother that's… Um."

She smiled wider this time. "Didn't you think it would be prudent to introduce me to my future daughter in law?" The smile disappeared as rapidly as it had shone. Tears collected in her eyes, unshed. "Things are happening. Your father has been very busy with his… special projects. He's been away from home often, and has repeatedly requested that I keep the house ready for visitors. I don't know if he'll wait until summer."

The coyote stared back, silver eyes cold. "Wait to force the mark you mean."

She nodded. "I have no say in this. I've always held myself apart. Marrying your father has certain perks, besides his charming company. That said, the Dark has never interested me, not when I could get what I wanted by more traditional means. And I loathe serving anyone but myself." Her lips twisted up in a bit of a wry grin. "That's probably where you get it from. But where I am more or less immune by marriage… you don't have that sort of safety net."

He nodded. "I know, Mother. And I've been working on that." He echoed her grin. "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you what I've been up to; or most of it anyway. Gliberman was right, you know. I could have blown myself up, but I didn't. The ritual of Anima Conligato was successful and I'm now bound." He pulled the collar of his shirt down, exposing the intricate willow tree, the opals shining a cool blue of sleep.

Narcissa's eyes shone with poorly concealed pride. "Well, well. What a remarkable accomplishment. She consented?"

Rolling his eyes a bit, her son nodded. "I asked her formally as well, and she now wears Gran's ring." He looked of into the distance a bit. "And it looks lovely."

Narcissa looked at him closely. "And her family?" She noted the cold look that passed over her son's face with interest.

"She has none."

"Well, that may cause problems when she's introduced to society, but I'm sure I'll manage something." She sighed heavily. "This would have been easier if I had some control of who you married, but it never would have worked out- an arranged marriage. Pureblood families in Britain are so over bred as it is that no matter where she came from, pureblood or not, she'll have a rough welcome here." She got a far off look on her face. "Maybe I can find a way… Yes, that might work."

Draco looked at her curiously. "Mother?"

"It's nothing." Narcissa frowned. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

The young man closed his eyes and sighed. "I promise." He missed the look of worried pride on his mother's face as she bent to kiss his cheek. She pulled a pair of impossibly large boxes from the tiny handbag and set them on the counter. Draco could smell the cookies and pastries from the bed.

"Pansy complimented my cookies to her mother; please make sure she and Millie get the second box. I know how much the Goyle boy adores them, so I brought double. I expect to see you and Miss Rosenberg at Lulalinda's Tea House next Hogsmeade weekend for high tea. I believe that is this Saturday. Please don't be late; I have several other engagements that day. And dear? The earrings are in interesting choice." Draco's eyes flew open. She smiled, standing. "A mother always knows."


Chapter 33

He was warm, wrapped in something soft. His nose twitched, tickled by silken threads, and he almost woke up, but not quite. Severus was having the most wonderful dream. He was holding his love close, smelling the sweet scent of her skin on the back of her neck, and she wanted to be there. She sighed and relaxed against him, and he caressed one hand around her waist. It slid under the flannel of her shirt, curled around her ribs, and ever so gently, his thumb traced the underside of her breast.

He couldn't ever remember feeling this way in life. All his previous experiences had been brief, swift, abrupt. None of the lazy comfort of time spent curled in bed afterward, basking in the nearness of another, the mutual satisfaction of skin to skin.

He smiled in his sleep and bent his head forward, his dark hair sliding down his cheek. The soft pale skin of her neck was just there, under his lips, and he pressed a kiss lightly. In his dream, he willed the girl to roll over, to welcome his advance, to validate his feelings. And lo! She did. His dream eyes still pressed tightly shut, he felt her breath on his cheek, slow and deep with sleep, and he sighed.

To his surprise, a thin arm curled around his neck, bringing him closer, and he felt a small nose bump along his, as if searching for something. He was almost alarmed to feel tender, silken lips press against his, as if that wasn't supposed to happen in this dream, maybe in some other dream from long ago or far in the future, but his parted his own lips obediently.

The electric shock that passed between them as their tongues tentatively touched snapped both their eyes open, wide awake out of the dream they both had been sharing. Startled black eyes stared in into panicked green ones and the arm from around his neck was suddenly, violently pushing on his chest accompanied by the soft shriek of, "Not again!"

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Hermione and Ginny exchanged wary glances. The redhead spoke softly, as if afraid of being overheard. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's… well…"

"I know. I can't believe it. But we only have a few minutes till the first classes start anyway, so it won't take long."

"My brother is going to kill us."

Hermione sniffed. "I'd like to see him try. I'd hex him into next week." She deflated a bit. "Though I have to admit he has a point." She straightened, flipped her braid over her shoulder and raised her hand to knock. "Here goes."

A weak and sleepy "Come in," caused the painting to swing open, and Ginny pushed it slowly, careful of the bunch of winter blooming posies in her right hand. The two girls walked into the room tentatively, as if they were afraid of being bitten, and took in the room décor. It wasn't exactly what they'd expected, but both had to concede they'd never thought that much about it before. They hadn't had time to adjust to the gloom fully when a voice from the bed called out, "Granger? Little Weasel? What are you two doing here?"

Ginny retorted, "You're one to talk, Ferret Boy." Her friend elbowed her in the ribs and she huffed an exasperated, "What?"

Hermione plastered a smile stiffly on her face and walked to the bed. "Well, Malfoy, Ginny and I decided to bring you some flowers. Since you were sick and all…"

The pale form on the bed arched an elegant silver eyebrow and summoned a trophy from the bookshelf. He put it on his bedside stand and added water from the slim carafe at his elbow; Ginny dropped the flowers in. They stood there looking at each other awkwardly.

Draco was lying back in his bed, propped up on a plethora of fluffy pillows. His face was drawn and tired, faintly sallow, and he seemed exhausted. Hermione stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before she finally burst out, "Your hair!"

Ginny started and leaned forward. "Merlin's beard, Malfoy, you chopped all that beautiful hair off!"

He coughed, "You thought my hair was beautiful?"

Ginny fidgeted, "Well, you can be a royal ass, but that doesn't mean you can't have nice hair."

He almost smiled then. "Yes, I can be an ass, can't I? Part of the legendary Malfoy charm." He sighed, "You may as well sit down and tell me why you're really here."

"We came to bring you flowers," Hermione answered primly, sitting in the same seat Narcissa had recently vacated. Ginny sat down carefully next to her, surreptitiously checking for vipers under the pillows.

"Right. And I'm the next coming of King Arthur."

Hermione blushed, and the redhead interjected, "Yeah, well, so we wouldn't ordinarily bring you flowers."

"No. But you might if you wanted something."

Sighing, the elder witch held out her hands, palm up. "I guess the moral of this story is never play deception with a Slytherin." His lips twisted up into a wry grin. "Okay, we're really here to find out about Willow."

He sat up straighter, and the girls noted that he suddenly looked considerably less ill. "Willow? What do you want with her?"

"We're her friends, Malfoy, and we want to know she's alright," Hermione answered sharply.

He tilted his head to look back at them down his long nose. "She's gone home for a few days."

Ginny waved her hands dismissively. "We know that. It's what Dumbledore told us when we asked. But she wasn't planning on leaving; she just disappeared. Last we saw her she was…" here she made a face, "with you in the hallway. Then the next day, you show up at dinner without her and she's 'gone home'."

He was silent for a heartbeat or two before nodding. "And now you've come to see what the evil Slytherin has done to her to make her run away. Because, surely, she wouldn't have left without saying anything, and since the last time we saw her, she was with 'him', the dreaded Draco, and he must have done something to her…" he let it trail off softly. He turned his head to the window, morning light shining through the cracks in the curtains. "And what, pray tell, did you think I had done? Cursed or hexed her to be with me, and when she finally broke free she ran away?"

The girls exchanged glances.

He glared at them, eyes glittering. "I see. I can assure you that your fears are groundless. I neither cursed nor hexed her, and she most definitely kissed me of her own volition. And as for her leaving? What Dumbledore told you is the truth: she had some family concerns that suddenly popped up and she had to return briefly. She'll be back tomorrow and you can ask her yourself."

If the Gryffindors hadn't been looking at him so closely, they would have missed the fleeing look of hurt that passed through the silver eyes. Hermione, ever sensitive to others feelings, held one hand out. "Draco, we didn't…"

He hushed her with a wave of his hand. "Yes you did. I am who I am, and who I will always be. And you, you bloody Gryffindors, can't fathom why someone like Willow would choose me?"

Ginny opened her mouth, but all that came out was a faint squeak.

He continued on as if she wasn't there, almost talking to himself. "No one is ever how others perceive them, ladies. Not me, and certainly not your precious Willow." He rubbed his hand unconsciously on his chest contemplatively. "No one, no matter how well you think you know them."

Ginny spoke softly, "I know." She closed her eyes, looking within, remembering the soft words and kind touches from the man inside her head, all those years ago, who slowly ate away her soul until she was nothing but a few wisps of self held together by bone and tendon.

Hermione touched the back of her friend's hand carefully and Ginny shook herself out of her inner thoughts. If Draco guessed where her thoughts lay he made no mention of it, merely rubbing his hand tiredly across his eyes.

The brunette tilted her head to one side, looking at him carefully, as if seeing him for the first time. "You really are sick, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I have been. But I'm getting better." He smoothed the duvet down over his chest and stomach. "And I'm definitely looking forward to getting out of these rooms."

The seventh year witch laughed then. "I can relate."

"Yes, I suppose you could, what with that cat incident back second year…" He left of with a wicked grin. Something in his face made it clear he understood much more about that incident than he was saying.

She turned white. "You know about that? I mean… what happened… and why?"

He nodded, laughing silently to himself. "You have no idea what a Slytherin can find out if he puts his mind to it."

They stared at him, suddenly chilled. He winked and turned to pick up a glass of water from the table. Without warning, his hand clenched, and he slammed the glass back down, shattering it into several pieces. Both girls jumped out of their chairs, fascinated and alarmed as Draco seemed almost to shimmer, as if a faint sleek fur slid over him and disappeared just as quickly. He turned irate silver eyes their way, and Ginny gasped as his pupils swirled outward, the black overtaking his iris completely, almost spilling over into the whites of his eyes.

Blood dripped from his hand, mingling with the spilled water on the wooden table top, and he snarled, a sound far more canine than human. He closed his eyes tight. Hermione took a step forward, picking up a towel from the floor. "Draco… do you..."

"What!" he roared. She dropped the towel on the bed and jumped backwards. He took a few deep breaths, centering himself, and when he opened his eyes, they were back to their normal glacial gray. He blinked a few times and picked up the towel, wrapping it around the cuts on his hand. In an almost normal tone of voice, he said, "Thank you. If you don't mind, I'm feeling a little worse for wear, so…"

Startled by the casual dismissal, the girls scrambled over the chairs to the door way, skittering out of it and closing it tightly behind them. Once they were in the hall, they stopped to lean against the far wall.

Ginny's eyes were wide. "What was that?!?"

Shaking, Hermione whispered, "I have no idea… It's as if he saw something we couldn't, or felt it, and just… wigged."

The younger girl nodded. "Maybe he really is sick, not just acting to get out of classes."

Her breathing almost normal, Hermione nodded. "Actually I think I've seen something like that before… Remember when my parents were attacked in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think Willow's eyes did something like that before she… banished the Death Eaters… or whatever she did."

"A reaction to strong magic then? I've never heard of it before."

Standing straight and pushing off the wall, Hermione turned down the corridor to walk to her first class. "Me neither. And did you see what his skin did?"

"And his teeth? Like fangs for a second."

"Hey, Ginny, remember back when you were studying for your O.W.L.s?"

She looked at her friend quizzically. "Uh huh, why?"

"When you accidentally turned Crooks into a teapot full of chamomile tea? You were so stressed you didn't notice that your magic was doing things it wasn't supposed to, and when you touched your wand to my cat- poof, herbal kitty."

They shared a light laugh. "So whatever was upsetting Malfoy caused his magic to leak out?" They looked at each other then, eyes wide. "So what do you think that means?"

Hermione said perkily, "It means a trip to the library after dinner- without the boys."

Ginny stifled a groan.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Severus Snape faced his nemesis, bane, and greatest weakness across the expanse of pale green sheets. She glared right back at him, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth, pale face resolved.

"I- I- we… I mean…"

She removed her hand long enough to bark out. "No, this way leads to broken bottles at my neck, love struck vampires and rebars through stomachs. No, no, no. This isn't happening! No flukes!"

He blinked. "What? I don't see any bottles, broken or otherwise." He reached out a hand and she pressed herself closer into the wall, sliding away from him and closer to the door.

"Don't Severus. You don't know what'll happen. I can't… we can't…"

"We need to talk about this!"

"No we don't! Repress! Repress! It's my new motto; words to live by."

He moved fast, blocking her way out of the small room. She squeaked as she was brought up against his firm, very naked, chest. He gripped her shoulders tightly. "You will not get away from me again. I know you feel the same things; I know you had the same dream. Don't deny it."

She pushed weakly against him, tucking her fists into the sleeves of her fluffy cloud pajamas. "I'm not denying anything."

"It won't do you any good anyway; Draco already knows I'm sure."

She groaned, her knees going weak. "I know. He does, he's… not happy."

The potions master snorted, "I'd say not. So why not let him be mad for a reason?"

"What?" She looked up at him, frightened green eyes wide. Her hair slipped down her face, glinting like garnets in the morning light.

"I mean, kiss me once, like you mean it, and then he can be mad. We were dreaming, both of us before- an accident. If he's going to be furious, and I'm sure he will, give him a reason."

She shook her head mutely, lips pressed together in a harsh line.

"You know this chance will never come again. Just one kiss and I'll leave you alone. I'll go get ready for classes, leave you here to think."

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to head the inevitable off at the pass, but she wasn't fast enough. His lips met hers, and it was the dream all over again. Soft and dark, she melted, consumed in a spiral she couldn't control. His hands wrapped tight in her hair, drawing her close, and she whimpered. Her delicate fingers traced the too prominent outline of his ribs, the thinness of near starvation and self flagellation. He tasted the same as he had less than a week ago, when he found out about her bond with Draco, of sadness and regret. Shaking herself, she pushed away.

They stood for a moment, foreheads touching, trembling. His hands unthreaded from her hair, running down her arms to hold her hands loosely. They looked at each other then, eyes meeting without hesitation.

He spoke softly, seriously, "Was it worth it?"

Willow paused for a moment, a moment when Severus thought is heart would break and bleed all over the front of her ridiculous pajamas, when she squeezed his hands tight and nodded. "Yes. Yes, it was worth it."

He smiled faintly in response before releasing her and striding out of the room. She stumbled over to the bed, falling heavily and touched her fingertips to her lips with shaking hands.


Chapter 34

She fell back against the sheets; arms splayed wide, and stared at the canopy of her bed. The filmy material wafted softly in some unseen current and Willow reached one hand up as if to stroke it gently. She took a deep shuddering breath and let the hand fall back onto the fluffy feather comforter. She was almost convinced that if she sat up and looked around the world would have spun away without her, as if the only thing holding her together was the carved wood bed, gilt in the colors of springtime.

It was silly, she knew it was silly, but she didn't want to move. Moving would make it all real, the dream, the kiss, the admission.

And if it was real, she wasn't sure she handle it. If it was real, she may have messed up the one good, constant thing she had going for her. If it was real, her friendship with Severus could be ruined forever. If it was real, Draco may never forgive her.

Not that there was much to forgive- it was only one real kiss. One kiss, one thought, one moment in time when she said, "Yes". But that one moment was enough. She was numb, frozen on the inside, as if that numbness could protect her from herself. Her traitorous self, the same self that kissed Xander, caused Oz to walk away, the same self that drove Tara to leave her crying and miserable.

It was all her fault. If she couldn't keep her impulses under control, how was she ever going to manage her magic? Almost despairing, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. A desperate drowning sensation pulled at her heart, tugging her downward to a familiar darkness she feared. She remembered the awful certainty of her prior dabblings, both in love and magic, the certainty that it would end badly, that she would never get it together, that she'd be the softer side of Sears forever more, hiding as much from herself as from everyone else.

No.

She wasn't that Willow anymore; she'd changed. That Willow was left on some lake shore a dozen dimensions from here, crying for the love she had lost. That Willow hadn't come to a new world and started over, made friends, made enemies, made lovers. That Willow would never have had the courage to leave Sunnydale forever… Breathing deeply, she centered herself, chipping away the ice around her head and heart, forcing herself to face herself. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling, and each sliver hurt.

But when she was done, when she was laid bare, she looked on herself and was not ashamed. She was strong. She was powerful. She was clever. She was loving. She was… Willow. With a faint smile, she rolled over on her side, resting her palm over the dragon on her chest. She reached out, feeling along the lines of the bond, feeling for Draco.

With a gasp, she sat straight up. He was gone. There was nothing but a frozen wall of starlight where the warm silver of his presence used to be. He'd shut her off completely, more completely than when they had been separated by dimensions, and for the first time, Willow cried.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

When she was sure Severus had left his apartments, she crept out of her room. She clutched a clean set of clothes in one hand, and moved quickly to the bathroom. She passed through the professor's bed chamber without looking around, willing herself to ignore the expanse of dark sheets and piles of pillows. She moved as if in a dream, twisting knobs, running water, lathering her skin and hair. When her shower was finished, she dried herself off with the clean towels left on the counter and ran a comb through her hair. Only then did she turn and face the mirror.

The reflection that stared back didn't seem like her. The woman in the mirror glared out at her in accusation, a disapproving set to her lips. Willow could almost imagine her shaking her head. She reached out a slim finger to trace the woman's outline in the steam. As fingertip met fingertip, the woman almost smiled. Willow faintly smiled back.

She could do this. She would be the Willow she wanted to be. She didn't come back from the Hellmouth to fall apart and allow herself to be pulled in every direction. She was a grown woman for goodness sakes. She'd deal with the consequences; she'd put her life back the way she wanted it to be.

Nodding firmly once, she dressed in silence and walked determinedly out to the sitting room. To her surprise, Lala was just setting a small continental breakfast of fruit, pastries, and coffee on the low fireside table. When the elf noticed Willow, she dipped her head in greeting, smiling tentatively.

"Good morning, Lala. It's lovely to see you again."

"It is nice to see Miss Willow as well. Does Miss Willow like her breakfast?" The elf took another step closer, large ears quivering.

Willow took a seat in one of the armchairs and poured herself a cup of steaming dark coffee. "It's just fine. Would you like to have some with me?"

Lala's head snapped up, topaz colored eyes wide. "On no! Miss Willow, so wonderful to offer, but Lala has to attend to the rest of Master Snape's things."

"Hmm, that's right. He did mention you were his house elf, not the school's."

The diminutive creature nodded rapidly. "Oh, yes, Miss Willow. Lala's family has always served the Snapes! We are most proud to be Snape Elves."

Taking a sip of the wonderful coffee, Willow smiled tightly. "Yes, I could well imagine that Snape elves would be proud. If you don't mind me asking, what else did Severus instruct?"

The elf was busy in the fireplace and her response was muffled. "Master Snape said to help you with whatever you wished. Lala is to show you some books and make sure Miss Willow has everything she needs, especially for breakfast and lunch. Master Snape says that Miss Willow doesn't eat enough."

Willow arched an eyebrow and the elf froze, embarrassed that she'd told too much. "I'm sure I eat plenty. Besides, who could resist these croissants; they're utterly delicious." Putting action to words, she tore off a large bite and stuffed it in her mouth.

The elf cleaned silently for a moment, moving things too and fro, sweeping with magic and hands alike. Willow chewed thoughtfully, not really paying attention to the small house elf. If Severus had books for her to look at, she certainly wasn't going to say no. Maybe there was something in there that shed some light on her dreams. When she had eaten her fill, Willow cleared her throat to catch Lala's attention.

"Excuse me, Lala, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to see those books now."

The elf bounced over, a large stack of very old and musty books balanced in her tiny hands. Willow was amazed that she wasn't smushed flat.

"Here you are, Miss Willow. Master Snape said to start with the ones on top."

The redhead nodded gravely, opening the top cover. There was a piece of parchment inside, covered with Severus's spidery script in a lurid shade of green. She skimmed it briefly, and flipped through the book. It was indeed old, written sometime in the late 1600's. It dealt with dream magic, especially prophetic dreams. She half wished Giles and Buffy were here. Perhaps it could help explain the origin of the Slayer dreams.

The pages were yellow and going brittle with age, but the letters were still crisp and clear, even if the diction wasn't quite what Willow was used to. There were intricate drawings throughout, depicting everything from slumbering maidens to succubi and incubi. She flipped through idly at first, skimming most of the preliminary information on dream meanings for ordinary dreams. She was pretty sure that when she dreamed of the glen with Tara, the glen was just a glen, not a womb metaphor. It seemed that even back then, the wizarding community was channeling Freudian dream analysis before the famous psychiatrist even existed.

She reached the end and pulled the professor's note out.

Willow;

I found several references to multiple planes of existence being used to channel dream energy. Please look through chapters five and six. I've made notes in the margins.

Severus

Indeed, chapter five dealt with a version of astral projection. It was entirely possible that Tara was projecting herself from wherever she currently resided, and Willow was channeling that energy into her dreams. Which would probably mean that Tara was sanctioned by the Powers That Made Things More Difficult Than They Should Be.

She sighed. It was all well and good, but there was nothing to indicate what the 'task' was she was supposed to pursue. Frustrated, she picked up the next book, and then the next. She spent the entire day curled in front of the fire, nibbling on fresh figs and chocolate stuffed pastries. The only sounds were the faint rustle of turning pages and the occasional 'mmm' and 'humph' from the redhead.

She jerked with surprise when the chamber door opened. Glancing quickly at the clock on the mantle, she realized it was almost time for dinner. She climbed to her knees and twisted around to see over the back of the chair.

Standing in the doorway was Severus Snape in all his black clad glory. His face was carefully neutral, revealing nothing. He didn't move until she slid back to her seat. "I thought that perhaps you may wish to eat some dinner. I've arranged for Lala to bring a tray for two to my chambers." He silently removed his outer robes. Willow still faced the fire, not looking at him as he crossed into the bedroom.

"That sounds fine."

"How was your day then?"

Sighing, Willow stacked the books on a low end table and told herself that there was no reason to feel awkward. "It went, I suppose. Read through all the books, made some notes of my own."

Severus 'hmmd' from the other room. Willow could hear rustling and a pair of thumps when his shoes hit the ground. The warm flames flickered hypnotically in the grate. She didn't want to look away, didn't want to deal with her life, but she'd made a promise to herself that morning to hide no more, awkwardness be damned.

There was a faint pop, and Lala appeared with a heavily laden tray. The house elf scurried to the small breakfast table under one of the few small windows. The glass was high, just at ceiling level, and narrow, showing a strip of ground overlooking the greenhouses. Dusk light filtered through, casting the room in shadow.

She heard him move behind her, and when he touched her shoulder she turned to smile at him faintly. "Dinner?"

Nodding, she stood and followed him to the table. It was set with a carafe of water, plates of roast chicken, onions, mashed potatoes, carrots and fluffy rolls. She sat across from him, unfolding the napkin into her lap. He served them both in silence and she watched his hands through lowered lids. Long and elegant with pale, translucent skin. His fingers were calloused in places from stirring cauldrons, but otherwise smooth. She mentally traced the fine blue tinged veins with her eyes and tried not to think how those hands had felt against her own skin, cool and soothing.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?"

"Hmm?" She jerked her eyes up to meet his. His face was still carefully neutral, and she stifled a flinch. "Yes, it looks delicious. The house elves always prepare such delightful meals." She took a bit of carrot and waved her fork around. It struck her then, how much this mirrored the stereotypical scene of domesticity. She gave a short mental giggle at the thought of Severus throwing open the door with the pronouncement, 'Willow! I'm home!' a la 'I Love Lucy'. She shook her head and said, "So why are we eating here? Don't you have to eat with the rest of the staff in the hall?"

He grimaced. "Yes, ordinarily I would. But Dumbledore suggested you may want some company."

She raised her eyebrows. "He knows we're back?"

"He knows all sorts of things."

They trailed off into silence for a moment, eating in a relatively stiff peace. The food, while simple, was delicious, and brought back memories of the first time Lala had served her roast chicken at Severus's request. It seemed so long ago, a whole lifetime or two in fact. She pushed the potatoes around with her spoon, making a little hole for the gravy.

"I read your suggestions earlier. You may be right about the astral projection. It got me thinking about the Native American concept of Dream Time. Maybe I should check with Madame Pince tomorrow to see if she has any relevant books. It may connect, given the coyote myth…"

He started at the near-mention of Draco. "Yes… Yes, that might be worthwhile. Any other thoughts?"

"Well, if Tara's spirit is communicating, I have a good idea who's responsible." He looked at her curiously and she rolled her eyes. "The same people that usually mess up our lives. Or not exactly people. Anyway, the Powers have a real yen for redemption types, and I'd say I fit the profile these days."

He arched an eyebrow. "Indeed." He sliced a bit of onion and contemplated it carefully before eating it. "You are expected back tomorrow morning. I'll show you a lesser known way out of the castle and you can arrive as if you'd walked from Hogsmeade. You may wish to concoct an appropriate story as to your disappearance. Dumbledore did mention a family emergency, so…" He shrugged. She nodded and looked down at the napkin in her lap.

Severus took a sharp breath and reached his hand out to cover hers where it lay on the table. Neither person moved for a moment before Willow touched his hand briefly with her fingers. She squeezed slightly then withdrew both hands. He raised his head to look her in the eyes, and Willow's lips twisted down in a frown.

"Severus…"

"Don't."

"I- I want you to know that maybe-"

"What? Maybe another time it would have worked?"

It was her turn to shrug, looking off into an unseen distance. "No, I'm not saying that at all. It may never have worked, no matter when we met. We're so similar; we might destroy each other instead."

Dark eyes flashing, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Really." He snorted. "I am perfectly capable of messing myself up all on my own, thank you very much."

"I'm sorry; that's not what I meant." She sighed, pushing her hair back from her shoulders. "I always seem to have things just happen to me and I'm left trying to pick up the pieces. I don't want that any more. This is the new and improved Willow, the proactive Willow. I can't continue down this road with you and stay sane. I know what it does to people, and I wasn't kidding about rebars and bottles this morning."

He scowled.

"Severus, don't think for a moment I don't care about you."

"Oh, so this is the 'let's just be friends' speech?" He pushed back from the table, rocking the carafe around, dangerously close to spilling the water. "Fine. Friends, if that's what you want. But just remember that there's more here at stake than you."

The redhead blinked up at him, puzzled. "I don't understand…"

"Of course not. You're not much more than a child, always thinking of yourself. It takes two to tango, dear heart." He stood, walking to the fireplace, turning his back on her. "You want your life all neat and tidy, orderly. What about me? When do I get the fairly tale ending? What makes you so much more deserving than I?"

"I'm not, not at all! You should be happy, but I don't think more smoochies are going to make things better between us."

"No, maybe not. But who's to know unless we try?" His shoulders were stiff and straight, and Willow could see it was taking all his self control not to shout.

"We don't get to try! Why can't you see that?" She was standing in the middle of the room now, with no idea how she got there. Her hands were clenched at her sides and she glared, willing him to turn around.

"And why not?"

"Why not? It's not just either you or me, you know. Draco." She strode towards him, spinning him around to face her.

Black hair glinting blue in the firelight, he glared down at her. He lifted one hand to stroke a lock of burnished red from her face. "Ah, because he got to you first I'm out of the running? You can't tell me you love him."

Silence. Willow looked down then, absurdly contemplating the pattern in the Oriental rug on the floor- serpents twinning around golden balls.

"You do." The wavering hand dropped to his side heavily.

"I'm sorry; I don't know how things happened so fast." She looked up again, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes and hoped she wasn't too blotchy.

"Things always happen fast. It just doesn't seem so at the time." He hung his head resignedly, stepping cautiously away. "So that's it. It was a race I didn't even know I was running."

The tears evaporated in the heat of anger and Willow poked at his chest with her index finger. "I am not a race! I am a person! Don't think that I'm some prize."

"Aren't you? Any man would value you as such." He waved his hand airily. "Who knows what we could have been? You aren't willing to try; I'm not willing to tilt at windmills forever." He slumped into the nearest armchair. "Just for once…" he sighed, "Just for once I wish it could be me, that I was the one that belonged, that'd I'd never have to be alone again. It's awfully empty in my heart sometimes."

She knelt on the floor by his feet. The fire crackled and popped at her back and she could feel the warmth through her thin cotton shirt. He wasn't looking at her and she tentatively reached out and placed her hand on his knee. He swiveled in her direction, dark eyes unreadable. She whispered, "Sometimes I wish it could be you, too."

He smiled without humor. "I can't even find in me to desire you ill. If he really makes you happy, then-" he breathed in deeply, "Then I hope it works. It won't be easy."

Willow's smile was tinged with sadness. "I know." She sat back on her heels.

"And if you ever need me…" Severus went back to contemplating the fire, dancing flames reflecting in his eyes.

"I don't deserve that." She stood, wringing her hands in front her of her. She felt squeezed tight, miserable despite knowing she was doing the right thing.

The potions master laughed harshly. He looked up at her, face back to the arrogant, distant mask that so unnerved her when she first arrived. "I know. But you can't help what your heart feels any more than I can. More's the pity."

"No, no pity. There's no room for pity in our lives." There was distant, far off look in her eyes as if she searched for something he could not see.

He tilted his head, watching her closely. "Perhaps you're right. There's a war coming, short of another miracle. And for those of us in the path of inevitable conflict? Well, pity will do us no boon." He waved his hand in dismissal.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but changed her mind. Grabbing her notes and an unread book or two, she retreated to her rooms, shutting the door behind her.

To Be Continued....

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