Shadow & Love

13* Blessed Christmas

The heavy gate of Malfoy Manor fell into the lock. Severus run literally away from the house, not that he ever stayed longer than necessary. He'd been the 'chosen-one' tonight, the one to torture a nameless informant under the eyes of the complete inner circle. The Dark Lord made them all watch, dictated the run of the play, studied their cheering, measuring the degree of faithfulness dependent on the malicious glee. Narcissa's disgust was such that she looked away, barely preventing herself from vomiting.

Severus' mind raced. His muscles ached with an imaginary pain, like the torture he brought to that fellow who lay now barely alive in the cold and damp cellar of the manor; locked up by Pettigrew who whimpered the applause. Severus hated the unforgivable curses and the ability to perform them; he hated himself tonight more than the rat, more than the day when Lily Potter had been killed. It nauseated him to see the satisfaction in the snake-like face of Lord Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. Severus ranked now higher in the inner circle and kept the cover, for Dumbledore, for Potter, as a redemption of the miserable choices in his youth and nevertheless a crime in the wizarding world. Severus created no mistrust on the part of Voldemort.

The wizard turned on the spot under the whitish glowing streetlamp. His concentration drained away by the horror-stricken screams echoing in his ears. As a result, he landed somewhere in the countryside, tottered over furrow slices, the lights of Hogsmeade glinting faint in the distance. He sweated; and his shoes became heavy with the wet clay. The physical exercise calmed the nerves, the apothecary's garden was now close, a harbour of peace and ordinary life.

He cleaned the shoes on the mossy grass, collecting his thoughts, searching for distraction. Severus met Leonor often in the last weeks; he became used to her body easily. She wouldn't mind receiving him. Dumbledore paid little attention when Severus left or returned to Hogwarts; the headmaster busied himself with more important matters unfazed by planned activities of the Death Eaters. It appeared recently as if a spy was expendable in the old man's plans to save the world — except the request for mercy killing. Severus was loyal to Dumbledore, reluctant to prepare himself for killing the headmaster on request when the time was right and still steadily improving the relationship to the Dark Lord.

The weeks in December had been intense, and Severus was on a good way to make up for the wasted time after Halloween. Leonor's newfound obsession of adventurous sex pleased him; despite being still puzzled by that behaviour. The powers she put into those nights dispelled the worries about her health again and again. They often drifted off to sleep, exhausted and no energy left for long talks. It was as if the relationship was in a hurry — they both sat in an hourglass and waited to stream through at any moment. But today, he wanted slowness, warmth, maybe kissing. Severus just wanted to be held and hold Leonor in return.

A distant thunder rumbled through the night when Severus climbed the stairs to the upper floor. The ink black sky swallowed every natural light. Leonor's windows were dark. It smelled like snow; the silhouette of hills around Hogsmeade would likely be white in the morning. A few watery flakes melted on the front of the travelling cloak. The door swung open before Severus touched the handle. The anticipation overpowered the guilt, just for a moment. Leonor knew it was him. She wasn't asleep yet.

Before Severus sensed what was happening, Leonor kissed him fervently. When he didn't react, she opened his cloak and dropped it down.

"Not tonight."

Severus growled in frustration, when Leonor demanded to be touched, moving his palms to her sensitive spots.

"Why not?"

She dragged him further into the room, halting at the table and leaning against it.

"Not tonight," repeated Severus and pressed a fleeting kiss to the soft lips, hoping it was enough to make her stop.