The Greatest Love, The Highest Sacrifice

Chapter 16 - Heart's Ease

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed, red and brown,

Till human voices wake us

And we drown.

T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Chapter 16, as promised! For a complete understanding of the events that take place herein, please make sure you've already read The Show Must Go On, a companion piece by Aieshya, available under her name if you're reading this at the Sugar Quill, or mine if you're reading at Schnoogle.

This chapter is dedicated to Gemma...kudos to you, sweets, and better luck to both of us next time round.

"Professor Snape," Norri said softly, and then wondered at the breathy quality of her voice.

"Miss Evans," Snape replied, amazed at the huskiness of his own.

Seated at the High Table, Professor Dumbledore frowned a little at the easy familiarity - the open interest - these two people, each normally so reserved, were revealing to one another. But as Snape and Norri began to dance, the Headmaster shrugged. Obviously he was giving undue importance to what was clearly a case of mutual attraction.

That strange scent must be clouding my mind, he concluded as his Potions master led Norri in an intricate twirl on the dance floor. I wonder what it is, anyway?

***

"Would you look at that!" Draco breathed, his eyes leaving Ginny for the first time.

"I know," Ginny answered in amazement. "Who would have thought that Snape could actually dance?"

They watched the pair who were gracefully circling the Great Hall, noticing at the same time how many of the other dancing students were also distracted from their partners, observing their dour professor dancing - and smiling! - with such charm.

"Do you know who she is?" Ron asked as he passed them, his arms gently clasping Hermione's waist.

"Are you curious - or interested?" Hermione said sharply before Draco or Ginny could respond. "Though considering your predilection for blondes with Veela backgrounds - a description that she certainly fits - I shouldn't even bother asking."

To the others' relief, Ron didn't even blush.

"Don't be silly," he said calmly, "she's far too old for me. I'm just wondering who could make Snape act so..."

"Normal?" Hermione finished for him, clearly relaxing. She smiled, and her hand moved from Ron's shoulder to the nape of his neck, where it toyed softly with his hair. "Well at least we won't have to worry about Snape lurking in the rose bushes tonight. Unless he's there with her," she added, grinning at Draco and Ginny while Ron flushed and whirled her away.

Ginny chuckled.

"Did you see that? Ron's ears went pink in one second flat! That has to be a record, even for him."

Draco smiled down at her.

"Not that Hermione's suggestion about the rose bushes was a bad idea - quite the opposite, in fact."

He twirled Ginny round, then pulled her close to him again.

"Now you're going pink," he whispered in her ear happily.

Ginny blissfully buried her face in his shoulder, and Draco smiled, wrapping his arms securely about her. As he looked across the room, smiling, his eyes fell on Harry. The other boy had slipped back to the side of the room and was watching the twirling figures of Norri and Snape. Draco's eyes narrowed. While the other watchers were regarding the dancing pair with awe and pleasure, Harry looked positively ill. His face was white, and one hand slowly clenched and unclenched at his side.

Draco looked at Harry for a moment longer, and then turned, focusing his attention on the girl in his arms.

How predictable - Potter's jealous! he thought, though he knew, with a sinking feeling in his heart, that the look Potter had shot Snape had had very little to do with jealousy.

It had been more like...horror. Not just that Norri could be attracted to someone like Snape, but...something based on a genuine concern. As if he was...afraid for Norri.

Draco shrugged mentally. Norri had assured him - most emphatically - that she could take care of herself. And, in the end, whatever happened was her decision.

Besides, he realised with a start, he was wasting one of the best nights of his life worrying about something that might not even be an issue.

And, with that, Draco concentrated wholly on Ginny, giving himself up to enjoying the dance.

***

Norri stepped onto the balcony, her head resting on Severus Snape's shoulder and his arm curving gently around her waist.

"It's funny, but I've never been here before," she said softly.

She could feel Snape smile against her hair.

"This balcony is a retreat for the teachers who want to get away from the Great Hall," he explained. "There's a parlour as well, but I thought you would prefer to come outside."

They stood together for a few moments, unmoving, enjoying the calmness of the evening that contrasted with the vitality of the Ball inside. The air was crisp, but not overly cold. The moon was a sliver just above the horizon, and the stars were even brighter in the sky than their reflections were in the Great Hall. The smell of roses - and of her perfume, sweet and enticing - filled the air.

It couldn't get any more perfect than this, Norri thought dreamily.

And then it did.

Snape's arm, which had been curved around her waist, moved up over her shoulder to the back of her head. Gently, it turned her until she was no longer standing by his side, but facing him.

She looked up into his face, and saw his mouth smiling down at her.

Totally at ease, relaxed and happy, she smiled back.

Then his eyes darkened, and his hand - still cradling her head - tightened.

"Elinor," he whispered.

And then kissed her. Hungrily, demandingly, with an aching sweetness against which Norri was powerless.

With a soft moan, she leaned into him.

This can't be happening, she thought as Snape's hands moved to cup her jaw. He's kissing me - he is actually kissing me!

His mouth opened, and as his tongue darted out to tease at her closed lips, Norri lost the capacity to think at all.

She couldn't think enough to compare this kiss with Justin's or Charlie's or Sirius'.

She couldn't think of Justin or Charlie or Sirius at all.

There was only Severus, and his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

There was only her own response - ardent, joyful, still not quite managing to believe that her wildest dreams were coming true.

Tentatively, she lifted her arms, linking them behind the back of his head, pressing herself closer to him.

He responded with a groan, and his hands dropped from her face to her waist, wrapping around her hips and drawing her to him so quickly that she gasped with his force, his intensity.

They continued kissing - deep, drugging kisses that burned, that started leisurely and increased in ardour until they were both trembling.

Her hair, half-spilled from its coif, tumbled down as Snape curled her against one arm until he was above her, her body melded to his. His mouth moved from hers, and feathered light kisses all over her face - her closed eyes, her nose, her cheeks. Then he returned to her lips, all the while whispering her name over and over again.

And Norri basked in the wonder of it - in the impossible that had become real. Her fingers were threaded through his hair, holding his head down to hers.

Neither of them were particularly expert at what they were doing, but neither cared. There was only each other, and the magic of what they were sharing.

***

Professor Dumbledore turned his attention from the dancing students in front of him and looked at his fob-watch with concern. His granddaughter had been outside on the Teacher's Balcony with Snape for nearly half an hour. Of course, it was true that they had a great deal to say to one another - Severus had rescued Norri from Justin several years ago, after all. And there was that curious matter of the silver cylinder Elinor had given him.

But Dumbledore had a bad feeling.

He loved them both, dearly, and knew them well enough to know that their actions this evening were equally confusing and out of character. Norri was never so forward or so open in her interest for a man - even one she had liked as long as she had Snape. And his Potions master was normally too immersed in the guilt of his previous sins to admit, let alone act on, his attraction to any woman.

But there was something else that worried Dumbledore.

That scent.

Sweet, cloying...overwhelming.

And overpowering, Dumbledore realised suddenly. His eyes narrowed as he sorted the possibilities through in his mind. Then he hit on the answer, and his eyes widened.

Could Elinor have actually used it on purpose?

Impossible, he decided. There was no way she would have the effrontery - or the boldness - to do such a thing. Especially when she was interested in Snape for more than just a brief fulfilment of hormonal desires.

Which meant that neither she nor the Potions master knew what they were doing.

Turning, he spoke quietly to Professor McGonagall and told her that he was going for a brief stroll. Rising from his seat, he left the High Table, and then unobtrusively followed the same route that Severus and his granddaughter had taken some time before, hoping he was not already too late.

***

From where he was sitting with Ron and Harry, Draco saw Dumbledore's departure. Hermione and Ginny had gone off to the girl's toilets - to freshen up and visit Myrtle, who would complain to high heaven, but be thrilled with their attention to her nonetheless.

The Head Boy's brow furrowed in concern. Dumbledore normally never left the High Table, especially not when celebrations were still in full swing.

Something must be wrong.

Looking around, he realised for the first time that Norri was no longer in the Great Hall. After a second careful perusal he concluded, with a sinking feeling, that neither was Professor Snape.

Getting up and leaving Ron and Harry - which caused him not the slightest pang of regret - Draco walked over to where Professor Lupin stood, supervising the drinks.

"Have you seen Miss Evans, Professor Lupin?" he asked casually.

Lupin's face was enough to tell Draco that he had been right to worry. Though Remus didn't actually answer him, his head jerked towards the back of the High Table, and the unobtrusive door next to it.

The door through which the Headmaster had just departed.

"Professor Dumbledore...?" Draco asked, to which Lupin nodded.

Draco sighed, then turned back to the Gryffindor table. While he was concerned - no, actually, really worried - there was little he could do.

Norri's a big girl, he thought. He fought the urge to run a hand through his hair and tried to push Lupin's worried face from his mind. And, after all, it doesn't really matter if everyone disapproves - even if it's the headmaster.

"Besides," he muttered to himself, "Both she and Snape are adults. Consenting adults. Even if, technically, she's his student -"

Then Draco froze, the words on his lips. And he remembered Aeryn Blake. And the rumours. And the way Harry, Ron and Hermione froze up whenever anyone mentioned Professor Snape in relation to romance. Which wasn't often, but still.

And Draco began to pray, very fervently, that Norri was all right.

***

Dumbledore took in the scene before him with dismay.

Clearly, he was already too late.

Although, being euphemistic, it could definitely be worse.

Though the embrace the pair was sharing could be called nothing other than passionate, it was clear that kissing was all Snape and Norri had been doing. Though the Potions master's shirt was partly opened, and Norri's carefully coiled hair now hung about her waist, their ardour had not yet developed into more - physical - expression.

As Norri and Severus continued kissing, oblivious to the Headmaster's presence, he considered what he was about to do.

He wondered briefly if he should remain in order to make sure that neither blamed the other for what had happened between them. He was more worried about Severus' reaction than Norri's. But, in the end, it was their affair, and they had to sort it out between themselves. Pointing his wand at them, Dumbledore quietly murmured the spell that was needed.

Then, turning around, he silently slipped away.

***

Remus Lupin stood behind a curtain as Dumbledore passed him by, on his way back into the Great Hall.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor leaned against the wall, his eyes closed as he tried to take in what he had seen as he stood behind the Headmaster.

He could not believe it.

Would not believe it.

Norri -

- and Snape?

But not just 'and Snape'...Snape - and Elinor - kissing - like that...

He could not believe it.

And what had the Headmaster done with his wand, pointing it at the pair like that and casting some kind of spell?

For a moment, Remus thought he would just return to the Great Hall and wait for Norri to turn up. Whether she had been here with Snape, or elsewhere, she would tell him what had happened.

But then his mind played again what he had seen - just glimpsed, really - and he knew instinctively that, if it was Norri, and he rather thought it was, this had never happened to her before.

At least not that he knew.

And he knew, with equal conviction, that she would need him when it was over, whatever happened out there.

So he pulled aside the curtain and returned to the doorway, hoping against hope that his eyes had deceived him. And that, if they hadn't, what had been going on between those two people had been for real.

Heaven help them both if it wasn't.

***

Severus was kissing Elinor Evans with a passion he had not felt in years. He was trembling, burning, at the gentle touch of her fingers on his throat, at the top of his chest. The first few buttons of his robe had come undone - how, he had no idea - and her hand was stroking at the opening of his shirt, lightly at first, but now with an arousing eagerness.

His attention moved from her hands to her tongue, which was twining passionately with his own, responding to his forays into her mouth with equal ardour.

His mind was filled with her; her touch, her taste, her scent - that beautiful, heady smell, of flowers and softness and...passion.

With an effort, Snape dragged his mind away from Elinor's perfume and concentrated again on her kisses, and on his own fingers, which moved through her hair, down to her waist. One of his hands remained there, while the other drifted up her side and moved forward to gently caress her breast.

Elinor uttered a sound that could have been a moan or a whimper, and kissed him even more deeply.

It was strange, his clouded mind thought, that he would be kissing Elinor like this. That he would be kissing anyone like this, really, but especially Elinor. After all, she was Lily's sister, and she was so much younger than him - what age would she be, late twenties at most? But then, Aeryn had been in her early twenties, and that had not stopped him from -

Aeryn!

Her name hit him like a slap in the face, and he pulled his mouth away from Elinor's a little, trying to gain some understanding of what he was doing.

Just then, a chill breeze buffeted. It swirled around them, becoming dense, heavy mist. Then, just as suddenly, it moved away, taking with it that strange, sweet scent which had been filling his mind, and leaving only clear, cold clarity in its wake.

That scent - it wasn't just perfume. He had smelled it before.

Made it before.

And he only ever made potions - which meant it could only be...

My God, he thought savagely, realising exactly what kind of perfume Elinor Evans had been wearing.

It was Oberon's Deceit, a highly volatile potion that affected the sense of smell, dispelling reservation and arousing intense physical interest in another person.

Snape looked down into Elinor's face, shock and anger flooding through him.

She had used magic on him.

On purpose.

Swearing profusely, and not bothering to keep his words under his breath, Snape shoved Elinor away from him. He looked into her face and saw her eyes, dilated with passion, slowly focus. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she took a quick step towards him, holding out her hands, but he stepped back, his face going dark. Elinor stopped in her tracks, and then shook her head, denying his rejection.

He turned away from her, furious with her, not wanting to look at her hurt expression.

She was like poison.

She didn't know whom she had been toying with.

She could have been hurt.

This last thought hit Snape even harder then his earlier realisations, and he sunk his head in his hands, simultaneously grateful that he had done nothing to disgrace himself, furious with her for forcing his hand, and mortified that they were already disgraced more than enough.

What could she have been thinking?

As he berated himself silently, Snape heard Elinor - no, Miss Evans - draw a deep breath, as if to speak.

But there was silence.

And then, a little later, another breath, and a confused - and frightened - voice asked him, "What have we done?"

***

Norri looked across at Professor Snape in shock.

He kissed me! her mind screamed. He - he touched me!

I touched him, she realised, and she trembled, a surge of unbidden nausea rising through her.

Why? How? What did I do - what did he do?

Norri's mind raced at she stared at Snape, whose face was buried in his hands. She was pale with shock, and turned paler still as her memory replayed each thing he, she - they - had done.

Her only consolation was that he, with his clenched shoulders and ragged breathing, appeared as appalled as she felt.

But you enjoyed it!

Norri put a hand to her mouth, trying to force back the sickness welling up inside her. Some awful, wicked part of her was thrilled, because for a short time she had understood what it was like for other people, normal people who didn't seem to be bothered by physical interaction. Men - relationships - were complicated and unwelcome. They took up too much time. And they scared her. And she wanted nothing of either of them.

But you wanted plenty a few minutes ago! her heart screamed at her.

But was it her heart? Or her mind? Or just her body? Or was she going mad?

Snape suddenly lifted his head from his hands. The balefulness in his glare took her breath away. She took a step back, shaking her head, silently denying what had happened.

And then she realised that he had been the one to end their encounter.

He had pushed her away from him, and started swearing and looking more like the Snape she knew.

Suddenly, Norri felt afraid.

Looking over at Snape, who had once again turned away from her, she asked him the one question she could not answer.

"What have we done?"

***

Draco watched Dumbledore come in and sit down again at the Great Table.

The Headmaster's face was grave, though he made an effort to smile at the students who were on the dance floor.

Draco looked around, trying to see Remus, but he couldn't spot him anywhere.

Has he gone looking for Norri, too? he wondered.

He was interrupted from his musings by Ginny, whose head lifted from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

"What's up?" she asked in concern.

"Huh?" Draco asked, pretending nothing was wrong.

"You're looking around for someone - I could feel your head turning," Ginny said slowly, looking at him closely. "Who for?"

Draco smiled at her, hoping she couldn't see the worry he was feeling in his eyes.

"I just can't believe Norri isn't here," he said honestly.

Ginny frowned.

"I know," she said, wrinkling her nose a little. "It's sad, isn't it? But that grandfather of hers was sick, so she didn't really have much choice, did she?"

If Dumbledore had come back into the Hall, Norri must be safe. "Guess not," Draco replied. With an effort, he turned his full attention back to Ginny, and lightly pressed her head back against his shoulder.

"Let's just dance," he said to her softly, and continued swaying to the music.

***

"What have we done?" Snape asked harshly, glaring again at Norri. "I think what have you done would be a more accurate question - Miss Evans," he said coldly.

Norri flinched at the deliberate use of her last name. She wondered at his harshness, uncertain as to why he was angry with her.

"But - you kissed me first," she said in bewilderment.

Snape sneered at her, the practiced gesture masking the sickness oozing through his stomach. "I had more than enough provocation," he snapped. "You've been throwing yourself all over me since you entered the Great Hall."

Norri opened her mouth to refute this, but there was no defence she could give.

He was right.

She had thrown herself at him.

She didn't understand why, or even how - she had always been the most inept and unsuccessful of flirts - but somehow she had indeed thrown out her lures to him.

And succeeded in reeling him in, she realised. This isn't - or at least, wasn't - totally one-sided, no matter what he might argue.

"Well, may I remind you," she exclaimed, a certain measure of relief creeping into her voice, "that even if I did flirt with you, I had more than enough encouragement."

"Not from my free will it wasn't," Snape retorted angrily, his black eyes flashing as he stepped towards her, and Norri shrank back, her eyes wide with fear and her hand half-raised, as if to fend off an impending blow.

That helpless movement froze him in his tracks. His jaw clenched and, sickened with guilt, he moved away from her.

He stood at the edge of the balcony, looking out over the gardens below, attempting to regain control of his temper. He nearly lost it again when he heard her next question.

"Why not of your free will?" she asked, and he almost applauded the talent it must have taken to inject just the right amount of innocent inquiry into her voice.

He didn't deign to give her an answer, but when she repeated her question, a little more hesitantly this time, he whirled on her, infuriated to the point of losing control.

"Because you wore Oberon's Deceit, of course! Why else would I have acted like a randy teenager who has no control or discrimination?"

He watched her expression change from confusion to bewilderment to shock, and then finally abject misery. When she turned from him, leaning over with her arms crossed against her chest, he started forward, unable to help himself. She resembled a wounded animal trying to escape its attacker, and while he had wanted to hurt her, this was not the reaction he had anticipated.

"Don't," Norri said, holding up a hand against him, her other still clutched tightly against her stomach, desperately trying to quell the surging nausea that was rushing through her. With a control that hurt her, she managed to push it back down, to keep from being physically ill because of what he had said to her.

Moving to the other side of the balcony, she clenched the balustrade tightly, clenching it until her knuckles were white. It was enough to keep her upright - and to allow her to answer his accusations, hear his reasons, without having to face him.

Because she couldn't face him again - not now, not ever.

"I don't understand what you are saying," she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded, even to herself.

"You used Oberon's Deceit - the potion first brewed by Belladonna Black, and used by Tristram and Isolde more than a thousand years ago, " Snape repeated through gritted teeth. "It was in your perfume."

"In my what?" Norri exclaimed, turning to face him for a moment, her eyes meeting his. Then she spun back again, apparently fighting something within herself before she finally answered.

When she did answer, Snape realised she had been struggling with her pride.

"I found the perfume among my sister's things," she said quietly, so quietly that Snape was forced to move one step closer in order to hear her. "You remember my sister - Lily?"

She laughed bitterly, then continued.

"It was a Christmas present. One Lily had received from a friend when she was at Hogwarts. I wore it tonight because I wanted to have some courage. Because I wanted to approach that friend myself. Because I thought -" she paused. "Because I was stupid enough to believe that he was worth something."

She turned back to face him.

"You gave my sister that perfume, Professor Snape," she said, and her eyes held worlds of pain and accusation.

***

Remus Lupin stood at the entrance to the balcony, his fists tightly clenched, his heart breaking for Norri.

He had been wary when Norri had appeared at the Yule Ball, unusually bright and vivacious. He had been taken aback when she had flirted openly with Snape, and even more amazed that the Potions Master had been so receptive. He had been disbelieving when the pair began to dance, and concerned when they had walked off together.

Following Dumbledore out to the balcony, he had been shocked at what he saw. He had known Norri since she was a child, and he had never - never - seen her embracing anyone the way she had been embracing Snape. She was normally a very reserved person, free with hugs and smiles, but extremely cautious about anything more.

Remus actually remembered a conversation he had once had with Charlie, attempting to reassure the younger man that Norri's reluctance to display physical affection - even after they were engaged - was probably just a subconscious effect of her parents' deaths. A fear on her part that someone she loved would be taken away from her if she opened up enough to actually express her feelings.

And yet tonight he had seen her plastered against a man - Severus Snape, of all people! - and even though Remus knew Norri had always liked the Potions master, he had not believed that it was really her when he had seen them.

Together.

Kissing.

Like that.

It simply went against everything he knew about Norri.

And now, astounded, he listened to the argument that unfolded. The recriminations, the tears, and the despair - on both sides.

And he wondered how Norri would recover from this.

Or if she ever would.

***

Snape's mouth opened and then closed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Elinor Evans was interested in him?

She had wanted to approach him?

She had thought he was worth something?

A new thought occurred to him.

Lily had kept that perfume?

He smiled wryly, his mind returning for a moment to that Christmas, when he had thought himself in love with Lily, hating James Potter for having her as he had everything else - including the Head Boy position and the Quidditch Cup. He had made that perfume as a gift, carefully inserting one of his own hairs so the wearer would be attracted to him, hoping she would wear it to the Yule Ball and he would be able to claim her from James and every other boy at Hogwarts. But she hadn't worn it, and he had concluded long ago she had simply thrown it away.

Snape's mind was drawn back to the present by the sound of a moan. It was Elinor again, but this time she was moaning in pain. Or was it sorrow?

His eyes widened as he looked at her - looked closely - and realised that she was crying.

His breath stopped for a moment as he realised that she cared.

Really cared.

And his heart leapt as an emotion he had not felt in years stirred within him.

But in the next breath, memory rushed back and suffocated him. Her sobs, so quiet and yet so piercing - so like the other - and remembered another, not so very long ago, whose tears had cut him to the core like this. Tears that he had caused.

Despair welled in his throat, bitter and sour.

She could have been hurt...

And, as he stared at the young woman before him, he forced his heart to harden.

***

As Norri stood looking at Snape, she gathered the last shreds of her courage, desperate to take one last chance at gaining his understanding. "I've...cared about you," she said aimlessly. "I've cared about you...since I was eight years old. All I wanted..."

Snape harshly quelled the sympathy that was welling up inside him, making his tone all the more cold when he did speak.

"Yes, all you wanted. That's the problem with you, Miss Evans, you and your nephew and your sister and your entire family. All any of you ever do is worry about what you want, without considering for one moment what others want!"

"That's not true!" Norri retorted, stung that Snape could insinuate something so false, so much against all the sacrifices she had made in her own life, the sacrifice Lily had made with her life.

But Snape did not heed her denial. Instead he continued ruthlessly with his barrage of cruel insinuation.

"Did you think about what I wanted? When you put on your sister's perfume this evening, did you stop to think past your care for me? Did you even once consider, in that self-centred mask that you wrap about yourself, that I don't want to care for you?"

His words were more effective than any Stunning Spell; Norri swayed where she stood from the force of his words, her mind unable to summon any words with which she could respond.

"You're just like your sister," Snape sneered at her. "You waltz into the Hall like a queen, expecting all to adore you and fall at your feet in worship." He pointed a finger at her. "Well, understand this, Miss Evans. You are not your sister. You will never be your sister. And if you think that I would be pathetic enough to accept you as a very poor substitute for Lily, you are much mistaken."

"You can't mean to be so unfeeling!" Norri exclaimed in denial of what she was hearing. Surely he must care for her a little? "You can't. You rescued me that once!"

Snape practically spat out his response, his face a mask of barely contained wrath. "Only at the behest of Dumbledore. Trust me, Miss Evans, had the order come from anyone else but him, I would have ignored it and left you to whatever fate had been set in motion." His jaw clenched for a moment. "There were more important things on my mind that night than rescuing some scatterbrained chit who was foolish enough to walk into a situation without a backup plan."

"You really think - that is, this really is your opinion of me?" Norri asked, all will to fight gone from her, defeat marked clearly in every line of her body.

Snape could not help but notice, yet he forged on, determined to kill every last shred of affection she might still harbour for him.

"You were eight years old when you fell in love with me, Miss Evans. And so you thought that once you grew up, you'd waltz back to Hogwarts and rescue me from my pining love for Lily?" He flung out his arms wide. "Was that it?"

Norri looked up at him, confused and increasingly wary.

"I felt sorry for you," she mumbled, stumbling over the words. "You loved her so much -"

"So you pitied me?" Snape laughed, and Norri winced with the knowledge he was laughing at her. "You're worthy enough to pity me, Miss Evans, but don't think that you're worthy enough to turn that pity into love. What a martyr you are. Sacrifice yourself to the greasy-haired Potions master for the memory of your sister." He laughed once more, then delivered the supreme dismissal, the perfect Slytherin insult.

"Typical Gryffindor."

Norri choked as she tried to reply, to somehow defend herself from his barbs.

"How can you?" she managed finally. "How can you be so cruel?"

"Well, considering that you've been hanging on to this obsession with me for nearly twenty years, I think a bit of 'cruelness,' as you call it. is in order," Snape quipped unsympathetically. "Let me put two things straight for you, Miss Evans. First, I no longer love your sister. I stopped loving her a long time ago, and now I despise her, her progeny, and any memory associated with her name."

He stepped forward, his black eyes glittering coldly. "And second," he hissed, "I could never, except in the most drug-induced, intoxicated state, care for such a shallow, self-centred, witless girl as yourself."

Norri's head bowed down, and so she did not see the fleeting expression of regret in Snape's eyes. She only heard his voice, still cold, biting and malicious, as he spoke his last to her.

"Good evening, Miss Evans. Enjoy the view."

And then he had left, in the swirl of his dress robes, leaving Norri behind him, with her shame and self-loathing.

Her face was wet with tears.

As she stood there, stunned beyond words, she heard a faint rustling from behind her, and she realized belatedly that she was still not alone. She drew a deep breath, her face going surprisingly calm.

"You can come out now, Remus," she said quietly.

***

"Norri?" Remus asked, uncomfortably aware that he was intruding. "Are you...um..."

He drifted off, painfully conscious that there was no way she would be 'all right,' not after what Snape had just said to her.

"Did you hear it all, Remus?" Norri asked, not turning around to face him.

He swallowed, uncertain if he should tell her that he had been here the whole time.

"Um...yes," he said finally.

"Well, then," she replied calmly, "I guess there's not much more to say, is there?"

"Norri," Remus said desperately, hurting for her but uncertain how to ease her pain. He was silent for a moment, and then blurted out, "I'm here for you, Norri. We all are."

As he watched her back, Norri cocked her head to one side, as if in contemplation.

"I know, Remus," she said after a moment, her voice dry. "But I don't think I really want to be with anyone just now."

Remus slumped, raking a hand through his hair, frustrated at the surge of defeat that swept through him.

"Very well. But, please, if you change your mind, come and get me."

"I will, Remus. Thank you," Norri assured him quietly.

Remus went to go back inside, then paused. He didn't know what she was going to do out here, but he was certain she would be better off with company, rather than being alone.

"Are you sure?" he asked, desperate to have a real reaction of some kind from her. "Are you sure you want to be alone?"

"I'm sure," Norri answered, and for the first time there was a hint of sharpness in her voice.

"It's just -" he broke off, then continued lamely, "It's just that we're all worried about you; me, Dumbledore, Draco."

"I'm very grateful," Norri said, and again her voice was calm and flat. "But I'm fine. And as soon as I've been out here, on my own for a little, I'll come back inside."

There was nothing else he could do.

Turning, Remus went back into the Great Hall and resumed his place at the drinks stand. He stood staring at nothing, oblivious as Dean and Seamus carefully spiked their drinks, thinking of Norri and wanting to kill Snape. Not that I can really blame him, he concluded fairly.

He sighed, then brought his mind back to the present.

When all was said and done, Norri was sensible. What had happened with Snape would have to hurt. But she would get over it.

And everything would be fine.

***

Norri smiled bleakly as she heard Remus leave, and looked down at her hands.

They're really quite nice hands, she thought abstractedly, fighting with herself to avoid contemplating the events that had taken place over the last hour. She didn't want to think of her grandfather, or Draco, or Remus. Or Snape.

Norri definitely didn't want to think about Severus Snape.

She didn't want to think of what she had felt in his arms, or how he had made her feel with the harsh words he had said. She didn't want to think at all.

But it was no use.

She could feel the nausea rising within her; the wave of hatred and self-loathing. It came like it always did, strong and hard, with enough emotional power to make her feel physically ill.

And this time, she was going to let it flow its course. She was not going to hold back, or fight it, or try to convince herself that she was actually a fine person who deserved self-respect and the good opinion of others.

Not this time! she vowed savagely. If this is what I am - if this is all that I am, then fine.

And she let herself go: let her scathing criticism, the barbs and snide comments - all far worse than anything Severus Snape or anyone else could ever come up with - fly at her weaker side, burning and scalding until she could take no more.

Sobbing uncontrollably, but at the same time laughing harshly at her own emotional sensitivity, Norri fell to her knees, shifting herself until she was hunched against the balustrade of the balcony, instinctively sheltering herself from the world and everyone in it. She pulled her wand out of the flimsy cloak she was wearing, and fingered it in her lovely hands for a moment.

"Accio perfume," she whispered, and waited for the small, intricately carved bottle to land with a thud on her lap.

Picking it up, she looked at it, dazedly admiring the way it gleamed when hit by the moonlight.

Moonlight I once thought was beautiful and romantic, she snarled inwardly. Well, Elinor, this is to help you remember once and for all that there is no such thing as romance. Or happily ever afters. Or any of the childish dreams that you are going to get over now - and for good this time!

And with that, she dashed the perfume bottle against the balustrade. The heady, sweet scent of Oberon's Deceit filled her head and the air around her, but it made no difference now. Grasping one of the shards of glass, she deliberately drew it across her hands - those beautiful hands of hers.

Carefully, she applied and reapplied the glass to her hands, until the shard was stained a dull red, and her hands were patterned in blood with whorls and swirls, in much the same style as the perfume bottle had been.

It hurt.

Awfully.

But it was a cleansing pain, one that gave her a clarity of mind and a purity of purpose.

As her head began to throb in time with her pulse, Norri bent her head into her hands, her tears mixing with the blood that streaked from the cuts she had made across her hands and fingers.

This is real, she told herself fiercely. This is exactly what you deserve. You're no good at relationships, no good at love. For anyone. You're not even particularly good at protecting people either. Though you haven't done that bad a job with Harry.

Harry.

Like an electric shock, his name brought her back from the edge.

Harry - I have to protect Harry. And I can't do that if I'm reduced to this.

For a moment, the temptation to remain, to wallow in her self-pity, was powerfully strong: stronger than it ever had been before. But her adored nephew - her reason for being at Hogwarts, her reason for being alive - was still here. And he still needed her. Even if he didn't know of her existence.

Resolutely, Norri picked up her wand, and healed the cuts she had made.

But not completely, she decided. I want to see these. I want to remember. I want to see the marks every day for the rest of my life and remember what I can't have. What I was never meant to have. And maybe that, finally, will convince me to give up my childish fantasies and be an adult.

With detached care, Norri used her wand to clean her blood-spattered dress robes, calmly resolving to burn them after the Yule Ball was over. She wanted nothing that reminded her of what had almost happened out here, on this balcony, with Snape. She wanted only memories of the pain. That was all she could use. All she was good for.

Standing up, she threw the shattered perfume bottle over the balustrade. For a moment, she held onto the shard she had used to cut herself. But then she threw that away too, turning before it had hit the ground.

The scars will be enough, she resolved. I won't forget again.

And with that, pasting a bright smile on her face, she went inside, back to the Great Hall, and the Yule Ball.

And Harry.

And life.