𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓟𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼: ǟ ʀɛǟʟɨȶʏ ֆɦɨʄȶɨռɢ ȶǟʟɛ ✤ ֆɛʋɛʀʊʂ ҳ օƈ

𝙰𝙲𝚃 ꀤꀤ

ȶɦɛ ʀǟʀɛֆȶ օʄ քʀօȶɛƈȶɨօռ

Crack.

Dark mist enveloped her body into vertigo.

Felicity pushed her eyelids open, but she could not see. Salve layered on them.

Her body rustled in a bundle of warmth, bobbing in a constant motion. "Luna . . ?"

Her head lolled to the side upon a wrist. But Luna couldn't carry her.

Two outstretched hands supported her spine, which was curled beneath robed arms. In spite of such a darkness, the figure beat life from its chest to her side.

It paused its quick pace, still holding her bridal style.

"L-Luna?"

Her voice might've been inside her head.

Chilled glass bounced against her lips. She opened them, and a tasteless fluid flooded her throat. Felicity sputtered, causing the glass to tip back. Once a swallow showed in her throat, the glass nudged her again, this time trickling the contents.

Her muscles twitched, and her body slowly felt returning strength. A different glass, warm and shallow, was pressed into her palm.

Deep breath puffed against her face. A man's breathing.

Tentatively, he closed his hand around hers, letting her fingers find the strength to hold the bottle.

She clasped it, letting his hand guide hers to her mouth. His hand slipped away, leaving her to hold the potion, drinking it unassisted.

A warm, lightly bitter herbal flavor washed her throat, and at the same time, a strong floral scent ran down the marks bruised on her thighs and calves.

Star-grass salve.

The last drop downed in her throat. The blackness remained in her eyes, but tinted the blindness into a shape, that of a face, and long, familiar hair.

While her vision returned in the already dark atmosphere, she shifted her body to ease the stiffness and allow easier treatment access.

His hooked silhouette of a nose bent downward as he rubbed more salve along her shoulder.

Dew-topped grass tingled her torso, sending goosebumps against her exposed skin.

"Vulnera Sanentur . . ."

Severus found her chilled hands weaving around his neck, pressing into his skin for warmth. He draped his cloak over her calves, her thighs---where he had found and treated the bruises there.

"Vulnera Sanentur."

Vulnera Sanentur. A spell that evolved over time. For she had not bled, and yet his incantation calmed her mind.

A breeze rustled his cloak, passing through again. Felicity tugged at his neck, fighting for warmth.

Severus lowered close to her, his forehead pressing against hers. His chest hovered inches from her own, and the cavity sealed by his cloak created a new warmth.

With recovering vision, she gazed into his obsidian eyes. Or what she could see of them.

"Vulnera Sanentur," he whispered above her lips, raking his fingers through her hair. His forehead pressed firmer against her temple as she pulled herself closer to him. Both laid on their sides, a bundle of heat between them. He was careful to keep their legs apart.

"Vulnera . . . Sanen-tur," Felicity managed to repeat, moving her hands from his neck to his scalp. She buried them in his silky strands, the soft warmth radiating onto her fingers.