Snape lays in his bed, alone, urging himself to go back to sleep. He wants to find his feathered friend again, he wants to dream of his Sanctuary and of his Oddbit, and the other extraordinary people he has in his life. The White City is the abode of Life, but his loved ones are truly his Sanctuary. As he relaxes, he slips into the arms of sleep once more and begins to dream, though the dream is more memory than anything else.
He remembers the very first time he held Elsbet in his arms. She was frightened and injured, and when he put his arms around her to comfort her, she seemed to melt against him. It was such a perfect feeling, holding her, having her warmth near him...but he realized very quickly in that moment that he was going to have a problem. Because the longer he held her the more he wanted her, wanted the scent of her hair on him, wanted the feel of her skin, the heat of her body against his...and they barely knew each other.
And yet, they'd known each other the very first time their eyes had met, when they'd looked into each other, when his heart had raced and he'd wanted to kiss her...she'd brought him out of himself, out of the tightly strictured life he'd found himself in, and he had given her back something she'd lost a very long time ago.
Hope.
She'd clung to him, that day she was hurt, trusted that he wouldn't make the hurting any worse, and he'd sensed that she'd been hurt before very badly and in terrible ways, and vowed in that moment that he would do whatever he had to do to heal the hurts and keep her safe.
Because she trusted him without reservation when he didn't think he deserved it. Because she stirred in him a desire he'd thought he'd never feel again. And because deep, deep down inside him, he just couldn't bear for an innocent woman to suffer.
She was so precious to him even then. In the days after that moment, after he'd soothed her pain and eased her fear, every time he thought of her he smiled. Even in class. Muggles have a saying that he'd never given much thought to (partly because he never smiled much), but he realized it was true; "smile, it makes everyone wonder what you're up to." The fact that his sudden and uncharacteristic smiling drove Potter and his friends absolutely mad delighted him to no end, but he realized he had to keep those little smiles to himself. Dumbledore had asked more than once about his new happiness, out of an honest curiousity, but he wasn't ready to share. He was not about to deny himself the pleasure that thoughts of her brought him, but he could train himself to express that pleasure differently.
But at last the day came when one of the students figured it out. To his relief, however, it wasn't Potter, or Weasley, or even Granger.
It was Luna Lovegood.
He was sitting outside one Saturday afternoon, thinking. He had a potion brewing that needed to just simmer quietly in the dark for a couple of hours, and he couldn't stand to be inside on such a lovely day, and contemplate only dead things and dried moulds. So out he went, and there Luna found him. In her innocence, she asked him how his friend was, and it so surprised him that he didn't have a chance to put up any kind of detached front. He smiled, an honest smile, and told her that his friend was likely working very hard, and looking forward to a quiet night off. The airy young girl smiled her typically sunny smile then said, "perhaps, Professor, but I think she's probably missing you very much, and hoping you'll come see her."
Luna handed him an owl feather and told him she thought his friend might be looking for one. He took it and looked up her, astonished, and asked her what made her think that. She gave him a dreamy look and told him that she had the impression of a very pretty girl looking for a feather in an old chest, then told him she really had to be going before the nargles hid her books again. That evening he went to see his Oddbit, and asked her if she knew what nargles were. With absolute seriousness, she looked at him with those stunning blue eyes and told him, "they're awful little things that resemble gnomes, but with the manners of trolls. Not nearly as nice as Brownies or pixies. They like to take your things and hide them, sometimes in places you'll never find them."
He felt a little funny, then noticed something sitting just inside the doorway to the back room of the shop (Elsbet was tending the apothecary alone again). It was an old chest, and it looked recently gone-through. "Were you looking for something?" he asked her softly, and she glanced at the chest. "An owl feather I'd had for a long time, but I guess I must have lost it somewhere." His heart seemed to slow and beat very hard, as if to punctuate every moment that passed. He pulled the owl feather Luna had given him out of his travel cloak and gave it to her. "Like this one?" She wouldn't take it. She stared at him as if for a second, she was seeing him for the first time. "Does...does it have a little black speckle on the calamus?"
It did.
Her eyes filled with tears as she took it from him, and he watched her as she examined it. Breathlessly, she asked him where he found it, and he told her that a friend of his at Hogwarts gave it to him. She went to him and hugged him tightly, as if she would never let him go, and he felt that powerful need for her stir, then rise up in him again. Without a word, she closed the shop, took him by the hand, and led him straight back to the little room Wynter kept her in. He loathed it, hated the idea of her having to stay there, but when she asked him if he would stay with her that night, he didn't hesitate to say yes. Something in his heart of hearts told him he had to stay, or he'd lose something very precious.
The bed she had to sleep on was a tiny, uncomfortable thing, so he charmed it and made it comfortably big enough for the two of them. When he lay down she snuggled so closely to him he could feel the heat of her body through his cloak. She wanted to make love to him, he knew she did, and he wanted it almost more than anything else in the world, but he couldn't do that beautiful thing there in that little prison. So tightly they held each other and deeply they slept, and he had never had a deeper sleep than that night, and he never slept as well without her afterward.
He still loves Lily Evans, he always will, but if he had never loved and lost her, it would never have been possible for him to love Elsbet, and though he still suffers the pain is not as blinding as it had been, and every time he sees his Oddbit or thinks of her, he knows he has a reason to live. There had been a time, before he was blessed by this love, that he would have willingly died for that love. Giving his life to honor her sacrifice and somehow clense the stain from his soul seemed equitable, but now, it no longer does. To truly honor Lily, he has to live, he has to love, for the ability to love as deeply and as passionately as he does is the precious gift she gave him so very long ago.
He has so many now to share that gift with. What a terrible thing it would be for that gift to die with him...especially when that gift carries with it the potential of new life.
Snape stirs in his bed and wakes slowly, the dream/memory clearing from his mind gradually. He doesn't know how long he's slept, but he feels rested, almost as if he'd been home, with his companions. He rises and dresses, focuses his mind and allows his darker self to come to the surface so that he can go out and walk his rounds of the castle.
He remembers the very first time he held Elsbet in his arms. She was frightened and injured, and when he put his arms around her to comfort her, she seemed to melt against him. It was such a perfect feeling, holding her, having her warmth near him...but he realized very quickly in that moment that he was going to have a problem. Because the longer he held her the more he wanted her, wanted the scent of her hair on him, wanted the feel of her skin, the heat of her body against his...and they barely knew each other.
And yet, they'd known each other the very first time their eyes had met, when they'd looked into each other, when his heart had raced and he'd wanted to kiss her...she'd brought him out of himself, out of the tightly strictured life he'd found himself in, and he had given her back something she'd lost a very long time ago.
Hope.
She'd clung to him, that day she was hurt, trusted that he wouldn't make the hurting any worse, and he'd sensed that she'd been hurt before very badly and in terrible ways, and vowed in that moment that he would do whatever he had to do to heal the hurts and keep her safe.
Because she trusted him without reservation when he didn't think he deserved it. Because she stirred in him a desire he'd thought he'd never feel again. And because deep, deep down inside him, he just couldn't bear for an innocent woman to suffer.
She was so precious to him even then. In the days after that moment, after he'd soothed her pain and eased her fear, every time he thought of her he smiled. Even in class. Muggles have a saying that he'd never given much thought to (partly because he never smiled much), but he realized it was true; "smile, it makes everyone wonder what you're up to." The fact that his sudden and uncharacteristic smiling drove Potter and his friends absolutely mad delighted him to no end, but he realized he had to keep those little smiles to himself. Dumbledore had asked more than once about his new happiness, out of an honest curiousity, but he wasn't ready to share. He was not about to deny himself the pleasure that thoughts of her brought him, but he could train himself to express that pleasure differently.
But at last the day came when one of the students figured it out. To his relief, however, it wasn't Potter, or Weasley, or even Granger.
It was Luna Lovegood.
He was sitting outside one Saturday afternoon, thinking. He had a potion brewing that needed to just simmer quietly in the dark for a couple of hours, and he couldn't stand to be inside on such a lovely day, and contemplate only dead things and dried moulds. So out he went, and there Luna found him. In her innocence, she asked him how his friend was, and it so surprised him that he didn't have a chance to put up any kind of detached front. He smiled, an honest smile, and told her that his friend was likely working very hard, and looking forward to a quiet night off. The airy young girl smiled her typically sunny smile then said, "perhaps, Professor, but I think she's probably missing you very much, and hoping you'll come see her."
Luna handed him an owl feather and told him she thought his friend might be looking for one. He took it and looked up her, astonished, and asked her what made her think that. She gave him a dreamy look and told him that she had the impression of a very pretty girl looking for a feather in an old chest, then told him she really had to be going before the nargles hid her books again. That evening he went to see his Oddbit, and asked her if she knew what nargles were. With absolute seriousness, she looked at him with those stunning blue eyes and told him, "they're awful little things that resemble gnomes, but with the manners of trolls. Not nearly as nice as Brownies or pixies. They like to take your things and hide them, sometimes in places you'll never find them."
He felt a little funny, then noticed something sitting just inside the doorway to the back room of the shop (Elsbet was tending the apothecary alone again). It was an old chest, and it looked recently gone-through. "Were you looking for something?" he asked her softly, and she glanced at the chest. "An owl feather I'd had for a long time, but I guess I must have lost it somewhere." His heart seemed to slow and beat very hard, as if to punctuate every moment that passed. He pulled the owl feather Luna had given him out of his travel cloak and gave it to her. "Like this one?" She wouldn't take it. She stared at him as if for a second, she was seeing him for the first time. "Does...does it have a little black speckle on the calamus?"
It did.
Her eyes filled with tears as she took it from him, and he watched her as she examined it. Breathlessly, she asked him where he found it, and he told her that a friend of his at Hogwarts gave it to him. She went to him and hugged him tightly, as if she would never let him go, and he felt that powerful need for her stir, then rise up in him again. Without a word, she closed the shop, took him by the hand, and led him straight back to the little room Wynter kept her in. He loathed it, hated the idea of her having to stay there, but when she asked him if he would stay with her that night, he didn't hesitate to say yes. Something in his heart of hearts told him he had to stay, or he'd lose something very precious.
The bed she had to sleep on was a tiny, uncomfortable thing, so he charmed it and made it comfortably big enough for the two of them. When he lay down she snuggled so closely to him he could feel the heat of her body through his cloak. She wanted to make love to him, he knew she did, and he wanted it almost more than anything else in the world, but he couldn't do that beautiful thing there in that little prison. So tightly they held each other and deeply they slept, and he had never had a deeper sleep than that night, and he never slept as well without her afterward.
He still loves Lily Evans, he always will, but if he had never loved and lost her, it would never have been possible for him to love Elsbet, and though he still suffers the pain is not as blinding as it had been, and every time he sees his Oddbit or thinks of her, he knows he has a reason to live. There had been a time, before he was blessed by this love, that he would have willingly died for that love. Giving his life to honor her sacrifice and somehow clense the stain from his soul seemed equitable, but now, it no longer does. To truly honor Lily, he has to live, he has to love, for the ability to love as deeply and as passionately as he does is the precious gift she gave him so very long ago.
He has so many now to share that gift with. What a terrible thing it would be for that gift to die with him...especially when that gift carries with it the potential of new life.
Snape stirs in his bed and wakes slowly, the dream/memory clearing from his mind gradually. He doesn't know how long he's slept, but he feels rested, almost as if he'd been home, with his companions. He rises and dresses, focuses his mind and allows his darker self to come to the surface so that he can go out and walk his rounds of the castle.