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"I don't believe the children are yet aware of my return," he replied before realizing that one of them probably had seen him walking around either last night or the previous night when he had returned and then, the whole castle would know by now.... "At least, they hadn't been formally told. Childrenn will make of it what they will, as they usually do. What does it matter?" |
"You're a teacher; certain things are expected of you." she replied montonously, her chest feeline extremely heavy. "I wonder..." she mumbled,finally revealing what she had been thinking over. "If my father instructed you to kill me, gave you no choice, I wonder what you'd do. I mean, he gave you no choice with some of those other people you murdered, I dont see what makes me any different. If anything you're a liability to me, why did Dumbledore ever let you near me?" |
Snape raised his head and looked over at Marcella, standing by the draped window. He knew he should say something to allay her fears but, he also knew that she wouldn't accept anything he said without a long, drawn out explanation which he was unwilling to give. "I would die before I allowed anyone, including myself, to murder you, Marcella," he said, knowing that she wouldn't believe him and bracing himself for yet another one of their arguments. |
"But what makes me different?" she asked, trailing a figer over the carvings in the ancient cthedral-like walls. "Those people whom you killed, they didn't deserve it either, they were just as innocent as I, if not more, yet you still felt the need to kill them. Why didn't you fight against him before? I just dont understand." |
"Before he lost his powers, I served your father willingly and eagerly. That is, until certain events took place..." Snape stopped and put up his hand as he saw the question burning in Marcella's eyes. "Which I will not be sharing with you... Dumbledore and I decided that I had the best chance of surviving and being of some use if I remained in the Dark Lord's service. Though I may still be required to perform certain... tasks... I haven't killed an innocent person since before turning my back on that life." |
"Would that not seem suspicious though? Surely he has some idea of what you've done. My father's not one to allow things like that to slip under his nose, unnoticed." |
"The change wasn't sudden, Marcella," he said. "And I still do enough to prevent the others and your father from suspecting me of being anything other than a faithful servant who has managed to secure himself a strategic position within the walls of Hogwarts." |
"That still doesn't change the simple fact that you're a murderer. But it's not even that, that pains me. It's the thought that you never even told me and that even now, you wont confide in me, open up to me." |
"You're right," he said. "I am a murderer. And, no, I never did tell you outright, but I thought you would have drawn that conclusion long before now, Marcella. The moment you saw the dark mark upon my skin, you should have suspected it. If I had known I needed to spell it all out for you, I would never have given into.... You should have known who and what I was, as I knew who and what you were, before I took advantage of you." Snape turned his back on Marcella and walked over to the door, running his hand down narrow crack between the door and the moulding. If only he could get his mind off of the curret topic of conversation, he might be able to think of a way to get out. Marcella didn't need him here anymore. In fact, he shouldn't have been here at all and she shouldn't have to be trapped in this room with a man like him. |
Grabbing her wand hastily from the side table, she summoned a pair of crutchs from the side of the room and, jumping from the bed, hobbled over to where his back was turned. Leaning solely on the wooden legs, she spoke, without touching him, "You didn't take advantage." |
Snape turned his head to look at her. "Yes, I did," he said simply, turning his attention back to the door, unable to look at her, a lump forming in his throat. |
"It aggravates me, how you always have this disposition to assume you're right about everything!" she whined, reminding herself of a child. Growling in frustration, she spun him by the shoulder and snarled, "Dumbledore locked the door, dont presume to think you're wiser than him. Just accept what I'm saying as far as I'm accepting that you're cold blooded murderer, who, at any point, could turn around and attack me, rape me or even kill me." |
Shaken out of his stupor when she turned him around, his meloncholy mood was turning rapidly to one of anger and frustration. But, it wasn't Marcella he was angry at... it was himself. Looking into Marcella's eyes he saw the very same frustration that he always had when trying to deal with Dumbledore. When had he, Severus Snape, become like that old man who thought he knew everything and what was best for everyone? "What do you mean by accepting?" he asked, carefully. |
"Accept it when I say you forced me into nothing. I have accepted what you'd more than likely do to me if we remained together and as much as it pains me to believe that you could, I know I should not risk my life anymore through being with you. Not because of the importance of myself to myself, but ebcause how important and valued I am to others." |
"At long last, we finally find something upon which we are agreed," he said. "Now, why don't you go lie down and get some rest; your body needs more time to heal." |
"I need you." she said, surprisingly even herself with her gutsy attitude toward their conversation. Had she not earlier professed that she could no longer love him with the posibility that he could murder her, still looming over her head? Why then, has she spoken out of turn now. Regretting it the instant the words slipped from her mouth, she proceeded to hobble back to her bed, as miserable as she said been when darrin were still alive and toturing her. |
Snape followed Marcella to her bed, making sure she made it safely, but not daring to help, afraid of touching her. What did she mean that she needed him? Hadn't she just accepted the fact that what she needed was to stay away from him? "You don't need me," he said, sitting himself on the bed adjacent to hers and leaning his back against the wall. "What you need is to rest, to allow your body to heal so you can think more clearly." |
"Quit being so fussed with my body." she said, leaning forward and shoving the crutches underneath the bed. Wriggling her nose, sneezing because the dust beneath the bed, she muttered, "Justbecause I'm beautiful doesn't mean you have to discuss it all the time." Raising her head, seeing the serious, torn look upon his face, she sighed, "Not everything's about the physical. These outward wounds will heal long before my heart ever will." |
"Rest is good for the mind, as well," he answered, closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing as a means to escape from his emotions. "Your heart will mend soon enough. Someday, someone will step into your life and cause you to forget this nonsensical relationship. It may not happen for many years or at all but, you'll manage. You're strong, Marcella and don't let anyone tell you any different." |
"Not nearly as strong as you." she said, mimicking his movements by sitting with her back to the bed posts and folded her arms in front of her, her knees lifted up to her chest, staring directly at him. |
Snape snorted. "Yes, so strong that I was unable to control my own actions. Strong enough to bring us to this place. And strong enough to dread my fate, though I know I deserve it," he said, sarcastically. |
"So strong that you have the strength to give up on what I cant. To let go when you know you have to." |
"Taking action and letting go are two entirely different matters," he said. "Of course, this time, we have no choice, really, and there is no conceivable way for us to ever be together. Giving up is not strength." |
"I'm tired of this..." she moaned, rubbing her fingertips over her temples. "I'm tired of fighting, of arguing, of going in circles. I cant be bothered anymore." |
"Good," he replied, carefully putting a hand to the back of his head and then sighing. He took his hand away and slid down so that he now lay flat on the bed, his wounded head cradled in the softness of the pillow. He closed his eyes once more and spoke, "Now we can rest." |
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