Chapter 18 - Jay



Severus mindlessly stirred the silver ladle through the softly bubbling, viscous mass in his cauldron, his eyes on his sleeping wife. She'd refused to go to bed, insisting she only needed a short power nap, and then she'd be good for the rest of the night. He didn't have the heart to insist; it was a comfort to look upon her sleeping face, free of tension, as she rested, unaware of his gaze. Unaware of the doubts assailing him.

He changed his movements to stir clockwise now, a small part of his mind timing his work, another part still trying to work out Diana's next treacherous plot, but most of it filled with awe and wonder that he, Severus Snape, was married to one of the loveliest creatures he'd ever clapped eyes on.

These were the thoughts deepening the crease between his eyes now. He'd managed to undermine Diana's attempt to claim him as her own by marrying Jillian, but was he doing Jillian a severe injustice? Had he taken her out of the running for a wizard who would make her happier than he could? Provide for her like he wasn't sure he would be able to?

He hadn't missed the way Mundrukor's eyes filled with longing whenever the quiet wizard had looked at her. Clearly, Jillian was unaware of this, or perhaps she'd already taken steps to discourage him? She must have known Mundrukor was interested; how else could she explain why the wizard allowed her free access to his Potions lab and stockroom? A wizard besotted with a witch would likely find it difficult to say no to her for anything her heart desired. The lackadaisical manner in which she had dismissed him of any value spoke volumes to Severus. She wasn't attracted to Mundrukor.

But she wasn't living in a cell; there were many times she left Hogwarts, and would have met many other wizards who might have taken a fancy to her. Hadn't she ever felt an answering attraction? Why on earth would she have so gladly gone along with his scheme for marriage?

It couldn't be that she actually wanted him, could it?

It had been Jillian who had initiated physical relations. Would she have done that with any wizard she was sharing an allegedly platonic bed with? Or would she even have permitted such intimate sleeping arrangements with anyone else? She didn't seem the sort, and yet it was impossible to believe she would prefer him over any other.

He stopped stirring, carefully tapping off the excess potion from his ladle and setting it aside. He tipped the small cauldron until its contents flowed sluggishly into the apothecary jar he'd pretreated to contain it, then stoppered it. Holding it up to eye level, he studied the greenish-grey color. It looked just as he'd expected it to look, which probably meant it would feel exactly as he'd anticipated.

Nasty.

He'd have to slather it over every inch of his horrendous scar, then wrap his entire neck in gauze. The cloying, sticky sensation would remain, and he would have to draw on all his stamina, tolerance, and self-discipline to leave it on for the required twelve hours. The gauze could then be removed, his neck cleaned, then the salve reapplied. Another twelve hours, then removal of the gauze and another cleaning of his neck would reveal how successful his potion might be.

Anything would be an improvement, but if his scar would, in fact, completely disappear, publication of this new potion would put him in the journals of Potion-making Arts, would open the doors for the right opportunities, and he could take positive and proactive steps into his future.

He glanced at Jillian, watched her even breathing move her breasts under her blouse. He could support her, he could provide a life for both of them, if he could find acceptance in the field of research. And it wouldn't have to be limited to Potions. He'd proven a great deal of skill through the years with his defensive and, if he were to be frank, offensive spells and curses. His experience with the Dark Arts and Death Eaters could best be put to use in teaching others how to deal with wizards such as those he'd once aligned himself with.

Who better to teach security than a thief? Who better to teach personal safety than a rapist? Who better to teach the world to live happily than one who'd done his fair share of making others unhappy?

He began cleaning his make-shift lab, putting away his tools of trade. What if providing for Jillian wasn't enough? How long would it take before she began regretting their impulsive marriage? She was young, loving...she had her whole life ahead of her. How long before she wanted children? He was by no means beyond child-providing years, but his temperament demanded that he admit he didn't want them. He'd never had any patience with his students while teaching at Hogwarts, so how could he assume he'd be any different than his own father?

He looked over at Jillian once again, and could easily picture her smiling down at the babe at her breast, the euphoric smile on her face as she shared a bond only a mother and baby could share. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine the baby with any of his own features, which would surely be dominant over her more delicate attributes.

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly in a silent hiss. He knew what he had to do.

He had to use this potion, see if all his and Jillian's diligence while brewing it paid off. If so, he had to publish it, prepare his CV, and look for gainful employment. He supposed Minerva could be relied upon for a glowing letter of recommendation, and since he'd been exonerated of most of his misdeeds -- when they'd thought he had died -- he could reasonably expect to con someone into hiring him.

Once his income was steady and secure, he could focus on removing the thorn in Jillian's side that was Diana, and then set Jillian free. Remove all vows of marriage, enabling her to get on with her life, and hope he could, in some small way, still be a part of it. It would kill him to stand by and witness any romantic liaisons she'd have in future, but at least she'd be happy. He could shake free of the guilt he now felt at having trapped her, at having taken advantage of their problems of the time. Her sister was vile, cunning, and manipulative. Jillian shouldn't be subjected to a life sentence of bailing her out because of it.

He brewed a kettle of tea as his mind worked over the Diana phenomenon. There was much Jillian herself didn't know about Diana's more recent shenanigans, and Severus felt she was better off not knowing. He couldn't be sure, but so strong a hunch couldn't be wrong.

Severus believed Lucius Malfoy to be the father of Diana's baby.

While Diana was being held prisoner and brutalized by Malfoy, Jillian never mentioned rape being part of it. In any event, had she become pregnant then, the baby would have been born long ago. If Severus' theory were true, Diana had found a way to entice Lucius ever since.

What would Malfoy's motives be?

Diana was a very attractive witch, if one ignored her personality. But Lucius Malfoy, the still wealthy, still arrogant, still well-connected wizard, could have any number of attractive witches at his beck and call, and did. Therefore, it wasn't Diana's pretty face or shapely body he needed.

Malfoy didn't need the ego-building power that could be found in having a witch lust after him; he could get that anywhere. So, Diana could pant and crawl after him until the moon fell from the sky, and he wouldn't become addicted to her.

Diana had nothing to offer Malfoy.

Or did she?

Diana had connections to The Tribe. She no longer wanted those connections, but that would mean nothing to Malfoy. Though he'd ostracized The Tribe from business dealings in the United Kingdom -- on behalf of an unknowing and non-sanctioning UK -- could it be that Malfoy was trying to wedge his aristocratic foot in certain doors?

Was Malfoy, in fact, trying to infiltrate The Tribe?

Severus had been keeping tabs on Malfoy since the war. Indeed, he'd been paying attention to any tidbits of information Jillian relayed to him about the wizarding world all this time. Those Death Eaters who weren't currently serving sentences in Azkaban were struggling to take back the lives they had before Voldemort had demanded their servitude. Malfoy hadn't kept it a secret that he was trying to replace the societal and financial ground he'd lost these last two years. If he could manipulate those with power in The Tribe as Voldemort once manipulated British wizards...

It was the way Malfoy's mind worked; of this, Severus was sure.

And what better way to open a window to The Tribe than to dangle his virility before a Tribal nymphomaniac? One whose hormones would allow someone like Malfoy to render her without will? Then, once Malfoy achieved the status within The Tribe's hierarchy he sought, how difficult would it be to dispose of the annoying she-beast when she was no longer needed?

Perhaps Severus need not worry about Diana at all. Simply sit back and let Malfoy deal with her.

No, he was forgetting about the unborn baby. Though Malfoy would never claim it publicly, he had too much pride to see any spawn of his not raised in the Malfoy way. The baby would be provided for, and Malfoy would no doubt be very much involved, if only in secret, in the child's upbringing. Unless he planned to separate child from mother -- which might be better for said child, in this case -- then Diana would still be around to harass Jillian.

Jillian stirred, blinked and rubbed her eyes, then pushed herself to a sitting position on the upholstered bench she'd fallen asleep upon. She smiled at Severus, walked closer and stole the cup of tea from his hand, and sipped. He traced his finger down a lock of hair that framed her face, then leaned in to kiss her soft lips. As she returned and increased the pressure of her lips on his, he felt his blood pressure rise, his pulse throb under his scar.

He pulled back, then nodded toward the table. "The potion is finished. Again, I thank you from the depths of my heart for all your help."

"Oh, Severus, you know I was happy to help. I'm dying to see if it works as well as your calculations predict."

She moved to the table and picked up the jar, studying its contents. He almost wished she'd drop it, rendering the potion useless. He sighed deeply and silently. His application of the salve would be a big step forward to the future he was almost afraid to plan. Teaching at Hogwarts was frustrating, but he'd found fulfillment with his work for the Order. And for every ten students he was convinced shouldn't be allowed near a cauldron, he'd had maybe one who showed a lot of promise.

There had been some rewards. Not the least was the security of the mundane routine. Everything had changed so radically since then; he could expect some misgivings about heading down a new path. One that hinted at a more rewarding future than he'd ever expected before.

Was it success he was afraid of?

As Jillian came back to push herself into his arms, he realized he could embrace his uncertain future much more confidently with her by his side. Was that why he feared using the potion? Because he would be alone as he re-entered this brave old world? This first step toward that future? Perhaps before he used the salve, he should tell Jillian of their impending annulment.

"Jillian," he began. "I plan to apply the salve in the morning. But before I do, we need to talk..."