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

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

It could have been the light, but his cheeks tinted a flustered shade of red.

Behind him, an unfamiliar long, wooden table stretched across the room. A mini table sat in the corner, with a coffee maker and cups.

"Professor Snape, I swear I didn't---"

Severus pulled her back. "Know anyone would be here?"

"I don't even know where I am."

"Oh, you are shameless," mocked Severus, backing her into the wall. Her palms flattened against it, his cloak brushing over her knees. His wand tipped her chin upward, dark eyes piercing fury. "I help you weekly on your potion, and then you dare. Lie. To. My. Face? A clever scheme to abuse your apparition lessons."

Niamh stood there, observing the room. Yes. She had never seen it. Not here. Nor in another reality. His wand still poked her chin, so she diverted her pupils to anywhere his shadow wasn't.

Severus pressed his lips together, deciding to grab her arm.

Crack.

They apparated at the left door to the Great Hall, the noises of practice still in course. Severus clasped his hands behind his back. "For your information, you shall duly regret it if you breach forbidden territory again. Do not cross me." He turned on his heel, swiftly strutting towards the darkness.

"Wait---where did I apparate?"

Severus turned around, raising an eyebrow. The shadow blended with his robes. "The staffroom."

And he turned on his heel, blending in with dark mists.

Niamh turned back to the Great Hall, only to bump into someone's arm.

"Ah, Miss Felicity!"

Professor Slughorn beamed at her, just the same as the usual glamorous jewelry and fine metals adorning his robes. "I've been meaning to request a favor, or rather, an honor of you."

Niamh peered around him, wanted to resume apparition practice. But Slughorn's message intrigued her just the same. "Go ahead."

"I've observed your skills in Potions, Miss Felicity. They match Harry's level, only I notice a spark in your eyes. A certain passion many lack."

Niamh smiled. She wondered what he was getting at. "Well yes, sir, I aspire to invent and improve my own potions one day. Make lives a little easier with each spoonful."

"A sure path to fame, my dear!" Slughorn rejoiced, and Niamh fought the urge to chuckle at his celebrity obsession. "I have a proposition for you. Next Tuesday, I shall miss my first-year class due to a healer's appointment. Would you be so kind to teach them for an hour?"

Niamh pointed to her chest. "You're asking me to run a . . . a classroom? What about Professor Snape?"

Slughorn chuckled. "Not run, lead, Miss Felicity. Yes, Professor Snape has that free period, but I thought it would shine on your resume. And something I can add to your recommendation letter."

She didn't need to hesitate. Standing before a mass of first years sounded intimidating, but sharing her passion for potions rang stronger. She shook his hand eagerly, tightly. "Yes. Yes. I'll do it."

"Splendid!" He began walking in the other direction, speaking over his shoulder. "Have them brew the Wiggenweld Potion."

Niamh hurried back to her original spot in the midst of constant apparition and disapparition, focusing back on her mind. The stained glass window glinted in her vision.

Wand held tight, she closed her eyes. All thoughts forced away, only the image before her. Concentration, deliberation.

Crack.

Her feet regained themselves beside the Great Hall's staff table. Still meters from her destination.

Again and again, she tried, but to no avail.

It seemed she had to truly let go. Immerse herself in her truest intention by instinct. The untold method.

I am shifting. I have shifted. I am already in my desired reality. My desired location.

Crack.

"Felicity?"

He withdrew his arm from her stomach. She grabbed onto the polished black surface protruding out, awkwardly removing her head from his lap.

Severus lacked the usual venom in his voice. His dark eyes reflected the bleakness of the lonely, elegant dining chamber. Niamh listened to the spacious ambiance, empty and grand. She knew exactly where she apparated.

"Come here, Miss Felicity," Severus said softly.

He began rolling her sleeves. "Are you a Death Eater, Felicity?"

The sincerity of the question unnerved her. All sarcasm lacking. He gripped her arm gently.

He cupped her chin towards him, pulling her close. Her sleeves fell back down. Their steady breathing puffed against each other, his eyes lost in hers. "Only a Death Eater can apparate here."

Niamh shook her head.

Down the stairs of Malfoy Manor, apparition cracks sounded. A light, feminine cackle danced upward, followed by the voices of Lucius and Narcissa. More cracks.

Severus stood up, and shielded her with his cloak, draping his robes around her and himself. He pulled her into the nearest hallway, darkness enveloping both. He spoke lowly, but stern. "I don't want you apparating on your own anymore," his lips hovered above her forehead, holding her close. "If you arrived minutes later, the Dark Lord would have killed you." The outline of dark mists rose again.

Crack.

As soon as he released her in an empty Hogwart's corridor, he disapparated again.

Niamh's confusion only isolated her deeper. She wrapped her arms around herself back to her dorm. Shifting reality only complicated things. Conjured fragmented phenomena without a tracing solution.

More than frustrated at her terminated apparition lessons, she begged her mind for answers.

Niamh had never seen the staffroom in her life. She had no way to visualize it.

And she had her mind far from Malfoy Manor.

She only visualized the stained-glass window. Right? You can't fool apparition, for it will latch onto where you desire to go most.

Niamh didn't need to know where she headed. She had only one image in her head the whole time.

She had apparated to Severus.