The Exposure

Chapter Two

           Seven pulverized haliwinkle shells, one handful of sagebrush...one handful. You hold the handful of fragrant sage, glancing from the cauldron to your hand, unsure of how to proceed. What if I have abnormally small hands? Or rather large comparatively? What is the standard hand size?

           You're halfway done with your brewing and struggle to stay focused. The chilly air of Snape's dungeon office makes you shiver as you freeze in uncertainty of how to proceed, your hand suspended in the air holding a fistful of sage like a statue. Suddenly, a large hand envelops yours and you feel Snape standing behind you. The deep bass of his voice reverberates through you, "This amount will do, Miss Y/n." His long arm extending along your smaller one, he moves your hand over the cauldron and taps the back of it with his large finger, signaling you to release the herb into the cauldron. You obey and a warm wave of...something you can't quite place washes over you. You swallow hard as he releases your hand and returns to his workbench, leaving a sense of cold emptiness behind you. "When you have finished brewing the draught you may go." You realize you're trembling as you try to return your focus to your work.

           I overthink everything. If only I hadn't been daydreaming in class in the first place. Okay, focus Y/n. You return your attention to the potions recipe book, "Stir vigorously for five minutes, counter-clockwise." I'm nearly done then I can get out of here.

           You pull the cauldron off the heat to allow it to cool and timidly turn to Snape. "Professor, I think I'm done brewing now..." Snape looks up from his quill and makes his way across the room to you. The smell of amber and cedar envelope you as he approaches. He picks up a ladle, dipping it into the purple sludge, narrowing his eyes as he draws the liquid up to inspect carefully. Your heart pounds at the risk of failure and having to stay another two hours. Or is it his nearness that has you off-balance? You weigh the thoughts when he interrupts–

           "This is actually a decent brewing," turning to you, baring into your wide eyes. "Good girl..." He ladles the liquid carefully into a vial, corking it and handing it to you. "Take this to Madam Pomfrey." As you reach to take the vial with trembling hands, his larger one extends to yours, steadying it. "Well, don't drop it, we can't afford anymore of your clumsiness." You take the vial and Snape turns back to his work, his back to you. After you've stood there frozen for far longer than you should, "You may go now Miss Y/n," his voice echos in the cold dungeon. You quickly gather your things and make for the hospital ward, your thoughts recycling those words. "Good girl..."