Severus and the Skye

5

The days begin to fade together, classes and late night chess matches. I have yet to win but I can’t say I’m bothered. Focusing on the game has gotten easier because I’m familiar with everything in her room from our past life. I mention specific things from time to time, never in succession and she tells me she doesn’t remember where she got them. Somehow I remain hopeful that one will come with a story of a man whose name she cannot remember but so far nothing.

The dance is in three days and I have not summoned the courage to ask if she would like to attend with me, though many others have.

More students have dared to ask the question and walked away with drooped eyebrows and folded shoulders. Quirrell has been insistent to the point she had been avoiding him in the last week, not answering her door. At least I won’t have to kill him, he did it himself.

Almost nightly we retire to her room and I watch as my pieces become fodder for hers, the checkered board littered with their remains. I ask about her recent life and she tells me more about her time with her mother and her travels to Italy, Russia, Brazil and even America. The light in her eyes is brilliant as she describs Italy in all its glory. I never knew how close I was or how our paths were so near to crossing. 

Skye calls the class to order as I assemble the onslaught of ingredients they will need for their potions today, minced daisy roots, peeled shrivelfig, sliced caterpillars, rat spleens, leech juice, cowbane and wormwood. Each container floats and lands with all the grace of a dancer. I hear the groans as Skye begins to introduce the Shrinking Solution we will be attempting.

I’m surprised when very few attempts are botched and by the end of class my desk is cluttered with bright green potions for testing. Only three come back as more the color of vomit, snot and I wouldn’t know how to describe the last one, seaweed perhaps?

At dinner I arrive first, claiming my seat next to Minerva. No one takes the seat on my other side as if it’s cursed. When Skye enters the Great hall she scans the High table and smiles at those of us who have already gathered, but it’s me she chooses to sit next to. The envy is palpable from Quirrell at the end, his eyes narrow.

There will be no chess tonight as it’s Wednesday and the women of the staff gather together and have drinks after dinner. I remind Skye of the agenda for tomorrow's classes and soak up the time I get with her. My plate is empty before hers but I don’t leave until she sits down her fork and pushes her plate away, nodding to Minerva as they both stand. Her hand trails over my shoulder, sliding across the back of my neck as she bids me goodnight and then she’s gone with the rest of them.

Though I would jump at the opportunity to spend the night with her, I have a project stewing and I must return to it.

One glowing cauldron sits waiting on a table in my chambers. In the last week it has held shimmering pink, blue and white potions, each a failure. This one has maintained its bright emerald color throughout the process and I remain hopeful as I add the stewed mandrake and stir clockwise exactly seven times. 

I have tried enhancing memory potions that already exist but the results have been disheartening, so now I am attempting an entirely new one of my own invention. My hope is that I can create a potion to restore an Obliviated mind, an antidote. The people at St. Mungos hospital have been gracious enough to volunteer as test subjects. Some were robbed of their entire mind and some, like Skye, were robbed of something specific.

Unfortunately, I haven’t made much progress. One subject, Maven, an older woman who works for the Ministry and lost a piece of herself to the Obliviate charm during a botched training session, was able to recall the name of her mother. It was a step, but she was one of the ones whose mind had been completely wiped. She still had far to go.