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

Tᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴍɪʀᴀᴄʟᴇs

Niamh woke up with puffy eyes and a soaked pillow. She pulled her covers tighter around herself, groggily watching the midday life. Luna had an easel before the window, and she painted some creature she observed outside.

"Hey. Doesn't your potion lesson start right now?"

Niamh rolled to the opposite end. "I'm skipping."

Luna set down her easel.

Niamh pushed the covers away, then landed her feet on the floor. She knelt down and wrenched out her potions bags, roughly extracting her homemade experiments. "I'm starting to wonder if my goat and his phoenix Patronus is literally a sign: no connection between them."

"Don't you dare question love, it's true and you know it," Luna scolded her, hurrying over to Niamh's side.

"He mocks my mistakes; he calls the potions I invent useless. A disappointment." She grabbed a vial of her first invention, tossing it at the floor.

Luna lunged and caught it, setting it firmly on their bedstand. "Niamh!"

"We used to be so close last year, he used to smile, to converse with me when we brewed. He constructively criticized my mistakes. I don't understand. Now he despises my presence, but sends me flowers ciphering I love you."

"Niamh!" Luna pulled her friend away from her disbanded potions bag, stopping her from spilling her childhood dreams. "I'm not saying he won't insult you. But you should attend today's lesson anyway."

"What good will that do but irk him and hurt me?"

Luna scooted closer to her. "Niamh, it's not just Dumbledore's death that stresses him. It's all about love. He feels undeserving, and when you come along trying to help him, showing your love, he feels sick. In his mind, you'll soon know him as a murderer. You'll disgust in all things him: potions, his love, his companionship. He's making it easier on you to hate him before you indefinitely will."

Luna looked to the window, resting her eyes on the lone elk grazing the school grounds. She turned back to Niamh. "He's hurting deeply. Out of all times, he needs love the most right now. He needs your presence, because no matter how often he lies to himself, his heart flutters every time you persist, every time you brew with him. Every time you argue when he wants you gone for the day. You just have to let him see it."

Niamh held her hollow quartz necklace. "It's my dream," she murmured, "he has to know that."

Luna stood up, wandering to the red chrysanthemum plant. The seedlines now sprouted tall, forming the points for petals. The once, tiny bloom above now sprouted outward, full and aromatic. Luna watered the soil. "He does."

Niamh gathered her materials, then exited the dorm.

She stood alone in the corridors, facing the door in which he had sent her away so often.

The evening sunlight illuminated her unkempt, sleepy and saddened curls of hair. She raised a knuckle to the surface, wondering if Severus would even be there anymore.

Nothing. No sound but students outside.

"Professor Snape?" She knocked again.

Niamh knocked a third time, and the handle shifted.

Lowering her eyes, she saw it unlocked. All around her, Severus was not to be seen nor heard in the corridor. Niamh pushed the door a sliver open, slipping in.

The lab table held nothing but cold air; their pending potions stored somewhere beyond sight. The desks were wiped down for the weekend, and the board cleared.