Chapter 8 - Familiarity

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Sirana woke up to the feeling of a chill creeping into her body. Her eyes flew open widely, trying to find any light to help her find her bearings. The memory of the night slowly
came back into her mind, which warmed her body enough to take the edge off of the chill. Evidently, the reason she was so cold is that sometime in the night, after they had fallen asleep, they had moved to their own sides of the bed, naturally finding their own comfort. Severus must have rolled the blanket right off the top of her when he moved to his side. She resisted the urge to giggle—some things were universal, even the humor that comes with sharing a blanket. She reached over and found the edge of the blanket and tried to gently pull some of it her way. The blanket was most decidedly wedged under the sleeping figure on the other side of the bed. She heard his peaceful breathing, and not wanting to wake him, she moved over to lay lightly against him, finding there was enough of the blanket available that way to drape over the back of her. She relished in the comfort and warmth, hoping the chill of her own skin wouldn't wake him, before sleepily falling back into a dream.
Severus Snape had no illusions about his own duplicitous nature. He had moved past the notion that he would ever atone for the atrocities dealt by his own hand as a former Death Eater and a member of Voldemort's legion. He was, therefore, surprised at the twinge of guilt he felt for rolling the blanket off his willing enchantress in hopes that she would come searching again for his warmth. When he felt Sirana move over to unshyly lay her body against his, he pursed his lips in a contented smile, the ends of his mouth turning both up and down in their unique configuration. Unbeknownst to him, Sirana had found his unique and rare smile quite seductive. Had he been a cat, he would have purred in comfortable contentment. He had another two entire days before he had to resume his duties as Professor Snape, and he would not waste any moments of the enjoyment of this strange and unexpected situation.
He thought once again of his dark past. It haunted his present, and he had felt only brief moments of light since losing Lily. His passion for his career as a professor at Hogwarts had provided a way to pass his time in a meaningful way. Only those closest to him, both enemies and allies, knew of his continued dealings with Voldemort, however; there was only one who knew the whole truth. His thoughts turned to Albus. Albus Dumbledore knew Severus Snape, perhaps better than anyone—alive—knew him, but even Dumbledore did not know the depth of him. His love for Lily had both driven him and Albus apart, and then, forced them back together as unexpected cohorts towards a greater ending than either of them could find within themselves. The loyalty Severus had for Albus was tainted with regretful blame and unforgivable shame. Snape's trust had been broken when Albus failed to protect Lily from death at Voldemort's hands, not considering his own plea to Voldemort to spare Lily when he came for her son was farthest from what Lily would have wanted. Protecting the only thing left of Lily, Harry Potter, had forced an alliance between himself and Albus that overshadowed any bitterness they may still harbor.
The dark direction his thoughts had taken would not allow him to drift back off into sleep. He thought once more of Lily—not her soul-tearing end, but the time when they were friends,happy to pass their days together,uncomplicated by the weight of the world. He felt a warm feeling come over his body, and as his thoughts brushed past the memory of her loss, he felt a comforting wave, as if someone had rubbed a healing salve over his deepest wound. He rebelled against it for an instant, not willing to give away any of the still sharp sting of this most painfully cruel memory. He relented slightly as he felt a familiarity pass over him, and he groaned softly, feeling as if this wound had been touched at its deepest core, then had been set to healing. He drifted off into sleep before he could put a finger on the source of the warm familiarity he felt, and the magic that would not show itself until the proper time.

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