Chapter 49 - The Agreement

A/N: I saw this meme on Pinterest and burst out laughing... then saw the top comment saying "this is the most disgusting pin I have ever seen" and laughed even harder... aaand also felt a lil chastised

PS dw girlies, we're keeping the pace up, but forbidden love is my MO

*

Asha had never seen so much colour in Severus' cheeks. Nor had she ever seen such distress on his face, in his countenance. She only got a flash of it before he turned and stalked to the window, bracing his hands wide on the sill, black hair falling in curtains around his face.

Horror froze Asha to the spot. Panic seized her by the throat. She felt completely exposed—naked.

Fortunately, her small shaky gasps were inaudible over the sound of the rain. It hammered relentlessly against the old windows, swiftly crescendoing to a roar in her ears, drowning out the thumping of her heart.

Time began to move strangely, as it did in dreams. Whether twenty seconds passed or twenty minutes, Asha couldn't say. Until finally...

"We are not doing that," came Severus' voice, cutting lethally through the white noise of the downpour. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face her.

Ice-cold dread sliced through Asha, and the mirror behind her shattered. Shit. She was finally forced to move, stepping out of the way as flashing jagged shards plummeted to the floor and smashed.

"That will not happen again," Severus said clearly and harshly, barely sparing the destroyed mirror a glance. He looked... frightening. A rigid shadow against the grey light of the window.

Even so, Asha found herself feeling a tiny bit calmer. Though her heart still pounded, she was able to compose herself enough to speak.

"Agreed," she said, her voice rough around the edges.

An odd expression convulsed across Severus' face. He took a deep breath. "This lesson is done," he declared, his tone sharp enough to draw blood.

Asha watched numbly, from behind her own eyes, as Severus donned his teaching robes and stormed out the door.

A moment later, she found herself undoing the latch at the window where Severus had been standing. Fresh, earthy air and rain tumbled onto her face as she leaned out, trying to wake herself up from this mortifying nightmare.

What the fuck had just happened? She couldn't wrap her mind around it. If my friendship with Severus is over because of this... Asha sank to the floor, feeling fat drops of rain splatter against her hair and shoulders. This can't be happening.

At the memory of her tongue stroking greedily against his, regret and horror doubled her over. Oh my God.

Something dark and terrible twisted inside her. A living creature of shame and fear that would eat her from the inside out—that would swallow her in, in, in until nothing was left but unbearable pain.

She needed it gone.

And somehow linked to that was her power, which begged to destroy everything in the room. To blow out the windows and crack the stone bricks. To burn it all to dust.

Images of the warehouse Asha had razed to the ground flashed before her eyes. The young police officer she had shredded alive. Control it, she pleaded with herself, sensing the power to obliterate pulsing at her fingertips.

Desperately, she held her hands before her. Keep it contained.

Relying on the magical instinct that seemed nestled in her every cell, Asha closed her eyes, took that dark, barbed creature and poured it into the space between her hands, as though she could crush the very air.

With hate and anger and relish, she did it. More and more. Pressing the darkness out of herself. Until finally, she had room to breathe again. And where the creature had writhed within her, only a flat, grey emptiness remained.

When Asha opened her eyes, a curious crystal hovered between her hands. It was clear as glass and the size of a thimble.

"What in the..." she muttered.

Letting her magic fade completely, she dropped the crystal into her hand. The pain was immediate. She snatched her hand away with a hiss, and the crystal fell to the floor, leaving an angry red burn on her palm.

She waited with bated breath for the crystal to burn through the floor or explode or kill... But nothing happened. It lay in the crack between two flagstones, looking inert and harmless.

Summoning her wand from the other end of the room, Asha attempted a couple of basic burn healing spells without success.

Starting to feel the chill of the open window, she stood and closed the latch. Just then, the bell rang, and dismay seeped into her stomach anew.

Severus.

Gritting her teeth, she dried herself off and pulled her many layers of school clothes back on. She had no choice but to keep going.

As Asha turned the door handle to leave, her burnt palm screamed in protest. Glancing at the wound, her heart dropped through the floor. She had seen this effect only once before, depicted in A Compendium of the Darkest Arts. The skin around her burn was turning black.

*

Early on Monday, in the dim stillness before dawn, the door to Greenhouse Six creaked open. Soft footsteps fell against the packed earth, where a single lantern threw golden light across the vibrant foliage.

"I've always found the greenhouses a lovely place to stroll on chilly spring mornings," Dumbledore said with a serene smile. "How delightful to run into you, too, Severus."

Harvesting a final leaf of Dittany, the Potions Master used tweezers to deposit it into a leather pouch, then straightened up.

"A charming coincidence, I'm sure," he said dryly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore warded the surrounding area.

Severus' eyes darkened. "Has Barty Crouch been found?"

"Not a trace," said Dumbledore. "A perturbing mystery. The man appears inexplicably on Hogwarts grounds, then vanishes from even Alastor's sight... I suspect he is dead."

"This incident only serves as further evidence that the enemy is getting in and out of the school unimpeded," said Severus.

"Quite so," Dumbledore replied gravely. "And Bertha Jorkins still hasn't been found. I am certain it is no coincidence she went missing in Albania. The Ministry's continued refusal to take her disappearance seriously does not bode well. With all that is transpiring this year... Severus, I fear things are progressing faster than I anticipated."

"I am inclined to agree," Severus replied, his lip curling.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Show me."

Despite his trust in the headmaster's safeguards, Severus took a moment to scan the surrounding area for prying eyes. Then, unbuttoning his left cuff, he pulled back his sleeve and exposed his forearm.

In just a few months, his Mark had transformed from faded grey to a deep charcoal that contrasted starkly against his pale skin. Severus had needed to become more careful, magically tightening the cuffs of his shirts, using an adhering charm on the buttons each morning to ensure they never accidentally came undone.

"Karkaroff's is the same," he told Dumbledore, who was examining his arm with a mixture of anger, worry and revulsion.

"We're running out of time," said Dumbledore. "I want Asha trained in warding off Dementors. You know as well as I that those creatures will flock to Voldemort's side as soon as he calls."

"I expect Winters is already capable of producing a corporeal Patronus," Severus said, rebuttoning his cuff.

"Either way, I need you to observe her engaging in some practice. I'd like to meet with the both of you tonight. Can I rely on you to inform her?"

"Will you be finally enlightening her on the truth of current matters?" Severus asked bitingly.

Dumbledore's level look said everything.

"Why do you still insist on keeping her in the dark?" Severus hissed.

The headmaster sighed, suddenly looking old and tired. "This may be the least troubled she will be for a long time, Severus. For many years, perhaps. I don't believe knowledge of what's coming will help her, so much as it will steal this precious moment of relative stability from her."

Severus processed this line of reasoning, feeling his heart ache. "She is already aware that something ominous is in play," he said, "only she believes it to be merely a resurgence of the Dark Lord's followers. She has no idea. I understand your position, but if you don't warn her, his return will be an immense shock."

Dumbledore pressed two fingers between his bushy silver eyebrows. "I admit you seem to know Miss Winters better than I," he said softly, "so I will take your words into account. But, Severus, for now, you will not tell her. Do I have your word?"

As Severus locked Dumbledore with an iron glare, the headmaster saw loathing in his eyes. But more concerningly, he saw a flicker of conflict.

"Do not forget the promise you made me," Dumbledore reminded him.

Black fire blazed in Severus' eyes. "Do you really think me capable of forgetting such a thing?"

*

The roiling, simmering contents of Asha's cauldron rather resembled the state of her insides, she decided. Especially given her potion had taken on an alarming acid green hue, while Maive's was the expected pale purple.

Asha couldn't focus at all. All weekend, she had been torn between wanting to curl up in a ball and disappear, and wanting to run and fight and destroy things until her muscles gave out. And, she was forced to admit, wanting to blast that delectable idiot's door down and fling herself on him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his dark shape prowling between the desks, inspecting each student's progress.

"Miss Patil," Professor Snape said icily, just loud enough to be heard over the bubbling cauldrons. The entire room held its breath. "What did I say about no talking?"

"S-sorry, Professor," Padma squeaked. "I just wasn't sure which—"

"Enough. If you have a question, you may ask me. Given the near-incoherent drivel that comprised Mr Corner's latest homework assignment, I highly doubt he is a reliable source of information."

As Padma asked her question in a hushed voice, Asha forced herself to focus on the next line of instructions—forced herself not to look up at Severus. Don't do it. God, did her eyes feel gripped by some kind of magnetic pull.

'Add 50 ml of salamander blood in a counterclockwise swirl over the course of 8 seconds, 3 minutes after the addition of the fresh leaves of Dittany as described in the previous step.'

Asha reached for her group's shared jar of salamander blood. Keeping her painful, ever-blackening palm concealed in the sleeve of her robes, she awkwardly tried to unscrew the lid.

Should she have gone to Albus about her hand? Most certainly. Did she give a fuck at this point? No. She was practising her favourite coping strategy: ignoring the problem.

Who screwed this lid on so goddamned tight?

Quite frankly, Asha didn't feel like dealing with the fact that she had somehow managed to curse her hand to a debilitating and probably irreversible degree. In fact, running away was probably higher up on her list of solutions than asking for help.

"What is wrong with your hand, Miss Winters?" came Professor Snape's condemning voice from the other side of the classroom.

Asha winced. Her mind was all over the place; what the hell had she been thinking, trying to wrestle a jar open with her half-numb hand? Of course he would fucking notice.

"Nothing, Sir," she said, having no trouble faking avoiding his eye. "A small injury. I haven't gotten to Madam Pomfrey yet."

It was the first time they had spoken since that crazed, highly inappropriate... indescribably wonderful... No. Crazed kiss.

Even as Asha stared adamantly at her cauldron, she could feel Severus' eyes narrow to slits. Both of them knew that the other knew that Asha would heal anything minor herself.

His black mass swept across the dungeon, bearing down on Asha.

"Show me," he demanded, his tone unjustifiably venomous.

Asha hesitated. It definitely wouldn't be wise to let any students see her 'minor injury'.

"Now, Miss Winters," Severus sneered viciously. "I haven't got all day." But he must have sensed her predicament because he angled his tall frame and billowing robes to block the view of the class.

Anger simmered in Asha's chest, which was honestly much preferable to the uncertainty and shame she had been experiencing earlier. Furious with him for calling her out in front of the class, she wrenched back the sleeve of her robes and displayed her palm.

Severus was silent for several seconds, staring at her wound.

"Come with me," he finally snapped. "Cosgrove, call for me if anyone's potion begins to act alarmingly."

Asha exchanged a look with Maive before following Severus' sweeping form past his desk and around the corner. He lead her into a small storage room out of sight of the class. No, no, no—not alone with him... The thought tangled with another that said, yes, yes, yes—alone with him.

"And how, might I ask, have you managed to do that?" he said, after casting a one way sound barrier in the doorway. His voice was suddenly cold and unreadable.

Stomach churning, Asha finally worked up the nerve to look him in the eye. Instantly, her pulse quickened and her gaze dropped to his mouth. Unwelcome thoughts bombarded her left and right like a swarm of Fred and George's bewitched snowballs; she knew what that mouth felt like, what it tasted like, what it could do to her lips and tongue. Hastily, she looked away, feeling an awful heat creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She'd never had these problems with blushing before.

"I said—" Severus began.

"How do you think," Asha bit out.

Severus scoffed angrily and moved a few steps deeper into the storage room, climbing a short ladder and rummaging through a high shelf. Glass jars clinked against one another as he searched, giving Asha ample time to register the scandalously cramped space she now shared with him.

"Don't patronise me by pretending you think you can fix it," she snipped, crossing her arms and glaring at the tiny wooden drawers embedded in the shelf in front of her.

The ladder creaked as Severus descended holding a tiny jar.

"It's an ice burn," he said flatly. "Also known as frostbite."

Asha's eyes shot up in hopeful surprise.

A muscle in Severus' jaw flexed, and he took a slow, deep breath. "Am I right in thinking you believed your hand to be cursed, and didn't seek any further expertise?"

Asha's eyes narrowed. "Must be that burden complex of mine." She reached for the jar, but Severus withdrew it.

He was quiet for a moment. "I apologise... for saying that," he said stiffly.

Asha blinked. She had been ready for a cutting retort, not... that.

"Why?" she snapped. "It's true." 

She reached for the jar again. And again, he withdrew it.

Alone in the sound-deadened cupboard, squeezed in the tight aisle between shelves, Asha could've sworn she felt the heat radiating off his solid body. Her skin began to heat in turn.

Severus regarded Asha carefully. Her standoffish demeanour was making him feel calmer about their... situation. Unscrewing the jar, he used a pipette to dispense the appropriate volume of ointment into her palm.

The effect was immediate—no sting, just soothing warmth. Asha sagged in relief.

It was only then that Severus got a sense of just how much pain she had been in. Idiot girl, he seethed.

He studied her delicate hand, still partially inflamed and dying. Before Asha could object, he had taken it in his own and was rubbing the cream into her wound with slow, gentle circles of his thumb.

Severus knew he shouldn't be doing it. Knew he shouldn't stand so close, let alone touch her. His self-control had been tested, and it had failed. But to heal her with his own hands... the visceral instinct bypassed his cortex.

Merlin, this was a dangerous game he was playing. This is the last time I touch her, he promised himself. And because of that, he lingered longer than was strictly necessary, savouring the feeling of her soft, clever hand in his. The closeness of her.

As feeling flooded back into Asha's skin, and she began to feel the dextrous ministrations of her professor's thumb, her body caught alight. In that moment, there wasn't anything she hated more than blushing.

"Please don't tell Albus about this," she implored, needing to fill the taut silence.

With the frostbite transformed into fresh, pink skin, Severus capped the jar.

"Fine," he replied curtly, returning the ointment to the high shelf with his wand. "Speaking of our dear headmaster, he wants to meet with us this evening, seven pm."

The blush drained from Asha's face. "You didn't tell him about—"

"Of course I didn't!" Severus hissed. "And you need to get your mind—your blushing—under control by tonight!"

Asha's mind crumbled further apart as she felt her face grow even hotter. Urgh. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't believe this was real.

"Look at me," Severus insisted.

"Fuck you," Asha whispered. There was no way in hell she was letting that man into her head.

"Albus uses passive Legililmency more than I do. If you don't pull yourself together, he will see everything."

Asha groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Shit."

"Quite," Severus agreed harshly. "Practice the exercises I taught you in Abersoch. You have nine hours."

"Do you know what this meeting is about?"

"I do, but we don't have time to discuss it." He pointed at the door. "Out. And for Merlin's sake, focus your mind on brewing. With the mess you've already made, you ought to start from scratch."

Asha sighed, wanting nothing more than to sink through the floor. "Thanks for fixing my stupid fucking hand," she muttered, doggedly avoiding his eyes—avoiding any part of him, really.

Then she left the storage cupboard to brew a perfect Weedosoros antidote. Apparently, her privacy and dignity depended on it.

*

At three minutes to seven, as Asha rounded the corner into the deserted seventh-floor corridor, a mass of black materialised and a familiar hand gripped her by the elbow. She wasn't even surprised.

"Look me in the eye," Severus ordered as he pulled her around to face him.

Staring levelly into his penetrating gaze, Asha looked at him, but she didn't look at him. Because one open-hearted glimpse of those onyx eyes and her composure would disintegrate along with her mental shields.

Instead, Asha stepped away from herself. The spiralling thoughts and volatile emotions were all still there, of course, but locked away. The surface of her mind was clear and still. A translucent pool that Dumbledore could swim around in all he liked and find nothing.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief and released her. Thank Merlin, it was Asha he was dealing with. She could be obstinate and hot-tempered, but her mental control was formidable when it needed to be. Severus had never met such a natural Occlumens. She was—he shut down any further thoughts on the topic.

They walked the final hundred metres to the gargoyle entrance in excruciatingly tense silence.

As the tight spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office ascended, Asha let the faint wisps of Severus' scent—normally comforting, alluring, intoxicating—wash over the edges of her mind, keeping the surface of her thoughts clear, her deeper self impenetrable.

"Ah, good evening to you both," said Dumbledore as they entered. He was standing before an open cupboard at the back of the room, lit by a watery silver glow. As he closed the doors, the light extinguished.

"Evening," Asha said. "Hello, Fawkes." She walked over to the phoenix's perch and offered him a hot pepper she had snagged from the kitchens earlier. Fawkes happily swallowed it whole. Then he raised his head, waiting expectantly for a chest scratch, but Asha had a feeling those strange, magical feathers might be catastrophic for her Occlumency tonight, so she resisted.

The headmaster gestured for Asha and Severus to join him in the armchairs by the fire, and served tea with a twiddle of his wand.

"I do have quite the soft spot for lavender tea, myself," he said, inhaling a curlicue of steam from his cup. "But alas, no matter how many times I encourage Severus to try it, he refuses to go near the stuff."

Severus didn't reply, nor did he take the cup and saucer hovering beside him. He merely watched Dumbledore, eyes slightly narrowed, a crease between his brows.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, I won't keep the two of you long, as I'm sure the term is getting busy for us all. Asha, are you familiar with the Patronus Charm?"

Asha tilted her head in bemusement. "I've heard of it," she said.

Severus detected an almost nonexistent tightness in her voice and glanced sidelong at her.

"I thought you might have," beamed Dumbledore, "with all the extracurricular reading you do. Have you attempted the spell before?"

It was a few seconds before Asha answered.

"Yes," she said calmly, but shame and annoyance bubbled behind her mental walls. Why does Severus have to be here for this? She could feel him looking at her—knew he could sense something was off, despite her Occlumency. Bastard.

"And have you had any success?" asked Dumbledore. "Keep in mind that even producing an incorporeal variant—the mist—is beyond the capacity of many talented witches and wizards."

"Keep in mind," Severus interjected in a bored, mimicking drawl, "who you're talking to."

But Asha held Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. Severus noticed her jaw jut forward ever so slightly, the way it did when she was being stubborn or defensive.

"No," she said stiffly. Severus looked at her in surprise. Asha set down her tea and glared daggers at him, daring him to comment.

"Completely understandable," said Dumbledore, who, in contrast, didn't look at all surprised. "And, in that case, I think it prudent to incorporate this skill into your duelling training."

"Prepping me for when I get sent to Azkaban, huh, Albus?" Asha said with a twisted smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Certainly not," Severus growled. "Though I'm sure the headmaster will expand on his reasoning."

Dumbledore gave Severus a sharp look that Asha couldn't comprehend.

"The Patronus Charm is an ancient and highly advanced piece of magic," the headmaster explained patiently. "Yes, it is best known for repelling Dementors. However, with specialised application, it can also be used to send hasty, uninterceptable messages. It has occurred to me that this is a skill we should add to your repertoire."

Asha began flickering the flames in the hearth. "Is that really necessary?"

Severus warmed with vindictive pleasure watching Asha push back at Albus, although he did approve of her learning the spell. With her level of magical proficiency, it was confounding that she had failed to produce even an incorporeal variant. Perhaps Albus' memory-altering had impaired her previous attempts.

"Given the delicate fact of your identity, I certainly think it necessary," Dumbledore said firmly. "I would sleep better at night knowing you had a reliable and secure way to contact me, no matter your location."

Deep below the still, clear surface of her mind, Asha felt Dumbledore's statement hit her square in the gut. The idea of having a much older, wiser and stronger person wanting to look after her. Almost like... Is that what having a parent is like?

"Fine," Asha managed to say. "Good idea." Then, after a pause, "Thank you."

Fifteen minutes later—after some further conversation about learning apparition—Asha closed the office door behind her and turned to find Severus already vanishing around the curve of the claustrophobic stairway. In a split-second decision, she raced down after him, fingers brushing the rough-cut stone wall.

"Hey!" she whispered, catching his sleeve.

Reluctantly, he halted.

"Are we good?" Emotion skittered along the edges of her hushed words. "Severus, I... I need us to be good."

She couldn't bear to lose the relationship Severus and she had established. It felt as though the man were the linchpin without which her life would fall into meaningless chaos.

Though Asha's Occlumency was still solidly in place, Severus saw real fear in her eyes. 'I need us to be good'. His chest ached. How does she get to me like this? He wanted to kiss her again—to kiss the distress off her face.

But that wasn't how real life worked. Instead, he retreated down a step.

"We are good, so long as it never happens again," he said. Only Severus could make less than a murmur sound as hard as granite. He turned to leave, but Asha spun him back around by the shoulder.

"Stop acting like it was all me!" she seethed, practically mouthing the words for fear of Dumbledore's prying ears.

"I am doing no such thing," Severus breathed, his eyes rocks of hard coal. "In fact, I'd like to apologise for my... severe lapse in judgement. I promise you it will never be repeated."

Asha stared at him. Two apologies in one day? He must be feeling as off balance as I am.

"Understood?" Severus whispered through gritted teeth.

"Of course! Let's just forget about it. Please. Or at least pretend to forget about it."

Something behind Severus' eyes melted a little, and he gave a tiny nod. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared down the spiral staircase.

Asha sank onto the steps, feeling both relieved and inexplicably devastated. She dropped her head into one hand. 

That conversation should have helped... so why did the black hole of loneliness hidden behind her sternum feel more vast than ever?

*

A/N: Thanks sm for reading! Shouts out to the inevitable patronus coming into the plot ahah

Ps I love how he lets her swear at him

Pps What music are you loving at the moment? Any recommendations? I love finding new music. S'pose I need to listen to the new Lorde album. I am slightly embarrassed to admit I have been OBSESSED with the Mufasa soundtrack for months 😂 it really scratches every itch in my brain