Perhaps Another Time, Severus [A Severus Snape Fanfiction]

2000

2000
Seven years they had been married, and every day she managed to love him more. In the beginning it was hate that brought them together as Shaylah followed Severus down the turns of Knockturn Alley on instructions from the Order. She had found herself in the folds of the new resistance after her father had been murdered, attacked in the street because he was Muggleborn. An anonymous letter had been delivered to her, inviting her to join them. She had happily accepted, in hopes of bringing down the evil that had taken over.

She followed him for weeks, watching every move he made but not finding any damning evidence against him. She knew he was Voldemort's right hand, his most trusted servant but she never saw him do anything horrendous. Whenever he was given orders to cause harm, he was never the one to do it in the end. The orders were handed to someone else or carried out by coincidence.

He turned on her one night, pressing her into an alcove as she trailed him. His wand held to her throat and a murderous look in his eye. "Tell the Order to stop, before someone gets hurt," He had said through clenched teeth, "yourself included." He was gone as quickly as he had arrived. Her heart pounded in her chest. He could have killed her, but he didn't. She had shaken the warning away, not even telling the other members about it. Then she became more bold when she trailed him. She joined him at his table while he sat at a pub one night, his fingers tightly wrapped around a glass of firewhiskey.

His dark eyes traced over her as she took a seat across from him. For a moment neither of them spoke but then as he swished the dark liquid around in his glass he looked up at her. "You have to stop following me."

She cocked a brow at him, her eyes begging for him to challenge her in the pub. She was an excellent duelist and would enjoy taking him down. "I'll find what I'm looking for soon enough." She retorted.

He was unbothered by her confidence. "You'll find the end of the wrong wand. I'm warning you now, what happens after this conversation is out of my control." The monotone of his voice held no emotion, as if he were stating that winter was coming. He had an odd air about him, his sheer presence made her feel small, but she wouldn't let it show. The level of evil and hate that rolled off the other Death Eaters didn't infest her senses, he was different. Though she couldn't place what it was she felt. By all accounts he should be dripping with that same awful air, that thick bile flavor that coats the back of your throat before you vomit. She grabbed the glass that was held between all five tips of his fingers, still swishing absentmindedly above the table. His eyes widened as she drank the last of its contents, her blue eyes never leaving his.

She sat the glass down with a heavy thud and slid it across the table back to him. She wasn't intimidated by him, or his lack of compassion for those that his master hunted down for sheer thrill. She would see to it that he paid for everything that he had done, little did she know that much of the Wizarding World was actually in his debt.