Within the Wings of a Storm

When the Sky is Starless

Lemons....but don't hate me...

Chapter title from "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac
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The steep, dark ascent to the Astronomy Tower seemed to leave Rhiannon breathless; weeks with moving around the dungeons and defensive spell work being her only exercise had resulted in her lungs being out of shape. The added cold from the late night air likely didn't help. Snape made a note that their defense training would have to escalate to the next level; she needed stamina.

Snape reached the apex of their climb first and was disappointed to see the night sky overcast, with only a faint moon for light. He could not risk frequent trips this far from the dungeons, and he had hoped she could at least take some joy in viewing the stars. But Rhiannon didn't seem to mind. She walked as close to the edge as she could before the knee-high rail stopped her, lifting her face to the skies, seeming to drink in the cold wind. It was almost surreal— she seemed like a beautiful white and green bird with a golden crown, ready to take flight, and she remained that way for minutes, soaking in the energy of the heavens. Severus Snape had never quite seen anything like it.

He watched, mesmerized. It seemed foolish to think, but she was like an ethereal queen— the cold rush of wind swirling her dress and her golden hair as if they would lift her up and carry her to some throne in the sky. It excited and angered Snape at the same time. He longed to possess her and feel the energy that would no doubt electrify them both once they connected; he knew enough about sexual magic to know that a witch and wizard's experience together was largely predicated on their level of power, the sheer raw force that flowed within them. Their union would be magnificent—if he ever allowed it to come to pass. But he was also enraged at the continued realization that he could not control her. He could placate her, subdue her for moments at a time with various distractions, but he was ultimately just biding time against a wild storm. Much like his relationship with her father.

Severus recalled the early days of meeting the Dark Lord as a young teen, always being a wizard skilled and knowledgeable beyond his years, but still in awe at witnessing Voldemort's expert command of the forces of earth and sky. Everything came naturally to him, as easy as the flick of a wrist or the gleam of a smile— whole worlds turned upside down, wishes granted, lives shattered, wills bent, every object and element seemingly beholden to him. To a young man who had only known rejection and disappointment, being aligned with such a force seemed the only answer, until it wasn't. With greatness came great danger. As he watched Rhiannon fall out of her reverie and turn to him with a victorious smile, her arms opening to him, he couldn't help but feel an uneasiness take root.

No. It's up to you, Severus, to make sure she is truly great, and never terrible. Over the years his inner voice had become that of Albus Dumbledore, an annoying fact that would leave the elder wizard elated if he were to ever find out.

"Thank you, so much. I love it up here." Rhiannon's eyes were glistening with tears. She was still holding her arms out as a gesture for him to join her near the rail, and he hesitantly obeyed. He was surprised when she not only took his hands but pulled him into a full embrace, her hips swinging into his, her lips locking onto his mouth with a hunger he could only describe as primal.

Snape backed away immediately, careful to steady her as he did so, since they teetered dangerously close to the tower's edge. "No," he told her, his tone leaving no room for discussion. He even instinctively grasped his fingers around his wand, fearing the power he'd felt from her during their brief encounter.

"Severus, stop fighting this," Rhiannon replied. She moved near him again but he stiffened this time and blocked her advance with his hands.

"The Potion," he told her firmly. "It's the only way."