Severus stood a few paces before her. His eyes were on the ruined cauldron.
"Tell me," his voice shook, and tears formed in his eyes, "why do you wear flowers in your hair?"
He kept looking to his cauldron.
"I don't understand."
"How does such a sim...
And then, the potion swam up his wrist, forearm---
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯○○◯○○⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Severus swept out of his bed, his billowing black robes trailing behind that might've been mistaken for black sheets. "Lumos," he muttered, his voice raspy from sleep. Wandlessly flicking the door to his neighboring lab open, he ignited the chamber with a flick of candle flames. In the closet, he found a stone, then wandered behind his desk to fetch a spare cauldron. In the corner, the candle-illuminated clock's subtle ticks reminded him that this was no longer a dream.
Tick. Tick.
He leaned against the table, one hand planted for support, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Accio Fawkes."
A deafening silence ensued for a near minute. He glanced around, his dark eyes studying his classroom laboratory.
Comparing the dream to reality.
Tick. Tick. It was late. Or early.
One of the spare windows, open for exhaust, let the bird in. The phoenix flapped against the pull of the charm towards his outstretched arm.
Following the dream's template, he summoned a vial and conjured water, then an already prepared stimulative draught. Severus needn't relay his wishes to the phoenix, for it squinted its eyes shut, preparing the brine. After all, if summoned at an odd hour, phoenixes knew the objective.
A sad reality, really.
All for the greater good. Just like his agreement to continue spying on Voldemort when he returns. He rubbed his arm.
Following the dream, the stone still absorbed the tears at the steady rate. He motioned the bird closer to the cauldron, urging it to increase the flow. Fawkes cracked a dehydrated squeak, but held fast as he increased his flow. Severus split his attention between the cauldron and Fawkes, and he tipped a vial of water into his outstretched beak as he massaged the phoenix's throat to help the water quench Fawke's thirst.
The stone lay damp in a puddle of tears. Gradually, the brine began to stir itself counterclockwise on its own accord.
The waters increased velocity, and the cauldron radiated an unknown heat. Pulling back Fawkes, Severus administered the remaining vial contents, then sent the bird flying from the chamber.
Drip. Drip.
Golden flickers danced wildly along the walls, and melting wax dripped on the floors from the floating candles. A gush of fermented, torrid air filled the room, then echoing dents erupted within the cauldron. Contracting and expanding in varying areas.
Sweat beaded along his forehead. His night cloak clung to him, and the room became bright with blazing incandescence.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
