Fic: As We Are Wont, 18
Severus,
I have not touched her. I thank you for asking. She looks at me and nothing is spoken, but I know. Reading faces-- I suspect you're adept at it too. Or perhaps not. Death Eaters enjoy masks, and Voldemort's expressions were never very predictable or particularly illuminating. Perhaps Albus? I've wondered often why you look at your students as though they all wore the same face, but it appears I have my answer.
You do not demand fidelity from me and I give it to you because you will not take it, like everything else I offer. Is this how Dumbledore seduced you away from the Dark-- insisting perversely like the ringing of church bells? When I was a child I woke to those bells once after a transformation. They seemed to cry "salvation, salvation, salvation" and I, too exhausted to do anything else, crawled towards the sound.
You will say that it is not fidelity at all if I am able to love her, and give myself bodily to you. 'Be mine or be nothing.' Severus, has it ever occurred to you that I have nothing more to give? You hold my past, my memories, my curse, my body. You hold my words in your hands and you choose to watch them curl in the emerald of magefire. I have some instinct for self preservation, though I seem to lose larger pieces of myself as the years pass. A reason to take up stealing.
Temperament shifts. Perspective changes. I keep turning my mind back to a place where you and I might live together every day, see each others' faces and speak with words. Hear the quiet of our voices. I do this and see you lose your temper. For some reason, all these tableaus include copious amounts of tea and Indian take away. I've never asked Severus-- do you like curry? Take milk with your tea? I can't seem to recall your plate at the other end of the dining table.
Yours,
RJ Lupin