Severus and the Skye

2

I couldn’t sleep last night. Instead, I made an abundance of potions for Madame Pomfrey and then disposed of them all when I realized Skye could make them with me. The name still didn’t fit right on my tongue, it was sharper than the one I once knew, the one that still melted on my lips in the silence of night. The nights when it still felt possible that she could be beside me. I folded it up and tucked it away with the rest of the memories that were mine alone. I was a stranger to her.

The others would have to do the same, hide everything that they once knew behind things that were yet to be. It would be easier for them, they still had the crutch of being remembered to lean on, shared stories and recollections. I would be a ghost in the back, Shroedinger’s potion master, I was there for it all but we have never met.

I skip breakfast in the Great Hall, instead sending for my meal in my chambers. A Wideye potion made quick work of my exhaustion, I’ll need my wits to keep from faltering. 

The halls are starting to fill with students, their voices filling the space in the large corridors. I’ll soon have to push my way through a day of classes while wanting to be somewhere else entirely. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. Nothing is out of the ordinary, everything is the same.

My first class is second years, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Two small explosions and three melted cauldrons. The chaos keeps my mind in the moment, snatching house points and condemning several students to detention. Not with me but with Filch. They can shine every bit of silver in this building as long as it isn’t in my classroom. 

Mr. Bloom opens his mouth to argue, wiping his hand down the soot on his face, exclaiming that it was an accident, “It is not my fault that you were too enamoured with Miss Thomas to pay attention to the ingredients you were adding to your cauldron,” I snap. The boy's mouth hinges closed and his eyes widen as he looks across the table at Miss Thomas whose face is now beat red. How hypocritical of me.

The next class goes much more smoothly with the second-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Only one cauldron meets its demise but it is because of the same inattention. The concoction turns to solid stone in the cauldron, I’m not even sure how exactly Miss Lemon managed to do such a thing. 

My fifth years have a much better time, each producing a decent brew. A knock at the door gives me no time to answer before Minerva swings it open and lets herself in. My students continue working or perhaps I don’t notice that they’ve stopped. 

I couldn’t have prepared for this if I had years. Minerva approaches me but I don’t hear what she says, the world has grown fuzzy around me. I can hear my pulse in my ears and it takes every restraint I can muster not to plant my lips on hers. Her blue eyes meet mine and I could have come completely undone in front of everyone in the room but I keep myself composed. 

Now I notice that most of my students have stopped working, their eyes drawn to her. I pull back every explosive impulse biting at my nerves and keep my face blank, I’m only meeting a stranger. Her golden hair is longer, braided in the front, following the flow of her face until it disappears behind her ear. The rest is free, hanging down to her waist in loose waves. Her pouty lips are spread in a wide smile as she peers around the room at all the faces that are now glued to her presence.

All the sound comes rushing back, ”Miss Fox, this is Professor Snape, he is our potions professor who you will be apprenticing under,” says Minerva, no doubt sensing my conflict.

A dark eyebrow raises as Skye holds out a hand and I leave it hovering in front of me. I lock my hands firmly behind my back. I can’t risk touching her, not now. Not even a graze. It’s already hard to focus and breathe.