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You . . . you can't prevent it.
Try me.
You have to let it happen, Felicity. It's the only way. If this is to work, there is a whole sequence of time you must surrender.
You have to want this badly enough to the precise second. One miss in the complex scheme of time, and all is lost. All is no longer known.
You speak as if I will lose my ability to know the near future.
. . . Make that potion. Carry it with you at all times.
Taps in the grass started Felicity. She groaned, rubbing her sore back that had leaned against rough wood for . . . she lost count of the hours. The moss growing on it seemed to have lost its enticing cushion.
A white petal ticked her eyelashes. Felicity sniffed, reaching up to the asphodel and tucking it back behind her ear. She twisted a few strands around the flower's stem to resecure the hold.
With O.W.L. finals in a few days, she had chosen to spend her Sunday to find the most relaxing spot to study. That is, a tree beside the Black Lake, a large trunk with the perfect concavity for her to make a nook. All away from the pink control-freak.
She followed the noise drawing nearer, and craned her neck, peering from the other side.
Professor Snape stormed with a set gaze towards the tree. Before he could see her, Felicity eyed her open parchment books, texts, and exposed ink jar. She leaned forward and grabbed them, closing and resealing, hoping to hide from him that she had napped through her studying. She always wanted to impress him.
Fine thread bounded a stack of tattered, written parchment in his arms, topped with the quill and ink only Felicity knew too well. His cloak draped across the wild tendrils and gentle wisps of grass, now brushing over the farthest extent of the creeping tree roots.
Felicity resisted the urge to offer grading more. He would surely lecture her on O.W.L. attention instead.
Severus swerved about the tree and paused. His dark eyes scanned the student who occupied the spot along the tree trunk. They landed briefly on her eyes, but then on the asphodel above her ear.
The stress was apparent on his face: brows tense, lines tugging his features. So it seemed the outdoors was the only relief for students and staff.
As soon as he saw her for a good few seconds, he turned on his heel towards the castle again. Felicity pushed herself up, stumbling on her legs after napping.
"Wait!"
Severus Snape was a man of endurance. His strut maintained speed even up the hill's steep incline, it was as if he always was a spy on the mission.
Felicity wondered if he intended to sit in that tree's nook, alone. But out of all study nooks, why did I have to choose the spot he visited?
She'd give anything to summon her broom, but not with an armful of unwieldy textbooks and glass ink jars. Felicity followed him through the gates, the turns down corridors, the flight down staircases. It paid to know he sought the potions classroom, for she lost him but for a trail of dark robes amongst a group of giggling Hufflepuffs and a snarling Filch in the halls.
In the moment's heat, she burst open the doors to his classroom. His back faced her, and he leaned over something she could not see at the angle. "5 points from . . ." he paused, still facing away. Gryffindor rang in the silence.
". . . Ravenclaw."
Felicity approached beside him. Perhaps she looked too deeply into this, but the house point deduction lost meaning over the years, if not spurring a certain fondness. Yes, Felicity almost felt Severus complimented her each time he subtracted points. Perhaps because she knew she had an effect on him.
Severus hovered over his goblin-finished cauldron (that she had gifted for Christmas), but his gaze wandered more within his thoughts than the object.
No flame heated it. Frowning, she inched closer beside him, stealing a look herself. Nothing. Empty.
Severus stood back, observing her quietly. His black eyes flicked between her curious posture and his cauldron.
A small tendril of warmth rose from the cauldron's exterior in the dungeon cold. Felicity brushed a finger along the cauldron's rim. The metal warmed her touch, almost too hot.
Felicity sniffed. Nothing either.
Drawing back, she found him observing her. Her eyes trailed down his hands, which held his wand.
So Severus simmered a potion in there moments ago. He simply vanished the contents, the flame, save for the remains of heat.
White specks sealed by glass peeked against the far wall. Away from the empty cauldron, Felicity wandered, towards the glass-shelved case against the wall. It housed typical supplies: potions, books, ingredients (bezoars, gillyweed, flobberworms, phoenix tears, etc.), cauldrons . . .
. . . That white-stained cauldron.
Beside the lustrous, spherical cauldrons, this one looked oh, so out of place.
I've seen it three times now?
Warped into irregular form; burnt base. And fine, white powdery stains, still speckling from the rim down the exterior. Severus kept it all, all down to the last trace since . . . since . . .
"Miss Felicity . . ." his reflection upon the glass studied her, eyes taking in her every breath, ". . . Why are you inside, on a day like this?"
She drifted from the glass case, then faced him. Severus's arms lay folded; chin straight, black locks feathered levelly upon his jaw.
Felicity collected her thoughts, unintentionally staring at him back. "I've come to . . . I've come to make a potion."
Severus remained still, unblinking.
"Nagini . . . what serpent species is she?"
"Regarding her venom, are you not?"
"The antidote. I have to make it."
Professor Snape swept closer to her. His gaze darted down to her quartz necklace, clear and hollow. "That is a serious situation to involve yourself in. None within the boundaries of Hogwarts shall endure such as you imply."
Felicity's eyes glistened they lingered upon his covered neck. She reached out, folding her fingers in his. Looking into his beautiful midnight eyes, it broke her heart to say what she fought with most.
"I have to let it happen. I cannot prevent it."
"Who? Who is the victim you foresee?"
Severus slipped a palm beneath her chin, pulling her gaze up toward him again. Even with his wand at his side, his eyes pierced her own. As if searching her very soul for the truth.
"Just promise you'll teach me the potion, I beg you."
Severus clamped her shoulder tightly. "Are you daft? This is a burden we must entrust with the Order of the Phoenix immediately!" he snapped. "Then we can scope ideal action."
Felicity held her gaze with him, trying to resist the image that had haunted her this past year.
"You leave me no choice then." Severus hovered his wand towards her eyes.
"I don't know when; I don't why. But it's for someone I love."
Severus held his wand steady, examining her.
"Someone I love dearly."
Her eyes focused on the wand inches from her forehead. Even through the blur her focus created, she could sense the power surging in the dark lover before her. She didn't have to look directly into his black eyes to see that they pierced every angle of her being. Severus could penetrate her mind if he so much as mispronounced the incantation.
"Please," Felicity croaked.
Severus breathed steadily on through his parted lips. His eyes flicked downward, temporarily landing upon her hand, entwining the necklace's hollow quartz. His lips shaped, and Felicity braced herself for Legilimency.
But Severus spoke no incantation.
"You would perish for love, wouldn't you?"
Felicity shook her head quickly. "Of course not---"
Severus cupped her chin. "Eyes on mine, Miss Felicity. Nowhere else." And yet his eyes lingered on the asphodel again, but returned to hers soon enough.
It took her a moment to gather the courage to avoid the surrounding visual comforts. He waited, holding her chin. Her eyes slowly returned to his . . . and a certain softness hid within his gaze. A part of you lies to me, Felicity, he seemed to convey. A part of you would die for love.
"Most find this antidote difficult to brew. Though not impossible, nor the rarest of potions---as Mr. Weasley eventually found access to one---it is one I believe . . ." Severus paused, taking a step nearer to her, ". . . I can involve you in."
"F-fall then . . . September . . ?" Her eyes fluttered closed, stilling her breathing beneath his tender touch. Felicity restrained herself, restrained the mind and body of 18-years condensed to 15. Restrained Niamh.
Oh, how she wanted Severus to take her to greater heights, right then and there.
Severus stepped back from her, lowering his wand. His brows furrowed. "If you are serious about confidentiality with this potion, improve your Occlumency. I can practically trace incoherent monologue just by holding my wand."
"Why didn't you penetrate my mind as the Voldemort would, then?"
"Consider it an act of what little mercy I spare."
Felicity spared a minor smile. "I'll be sure to grade essays more."
Severus smirked. "No, it is your crafting of dyes to make milk resemble molten silver. The beginning stages of creative deception. Slytherin of you."
"You knew I made that?"
"Obviously."
Felicity swore Severus must indeed return some sort of feelings to flirt this much (and due to her "uncharted memories," he might have suspected her true age, true maturity as well).
Anyways. Ravenclaw was still her favorite house. But when he called her Slytherin, he might as well have kissed her.
"Professor," she broke the silence, sorting out priorities and convincing justifications at once, "may I grade papers with you?"
Severus swept to the wall, examining his potions. "No."
"Study for my O.W.L.s then?"
He spun around, clasping his hands together. "Come here."
The request took her aback. Felicity stood still, lost in overworking thoughts.
"Need I repeat myself, Miss Felicity?" Severus beckoned with a quick flick of his hand. "Come. Here."
Felicity pushed her mind aside, then weaved about desks to meet him by the potion-shelved wall.
"Draw up your sleeves."
She pulled them both up, knowing arguing with him lead to his victory anyway.
Severus held her left arm with one hand, rubbing the engraved word of 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠. "Pain?"
Other than the firm friction of his calloused fingers, nothing else. "No."
He moved onto another arm, gently pulling at her skin. "Here?"
"Nothing. Professor, it really doesn't hurt anymore . . ."
But Severus found her right arm now, repeating his examination on the identical scar. Again, she responded the same. Umbridge's detention occurred in early September, and currently mid-June approached. Clearly enough time. Or so she thought.
Severus crossed an arm over her head to reach a potion; his cloak partially draping warmth and Cedarwood aromas upon her face.
A violet-blue bottle reflected in his grasp, and he set it down on the shelf at waist-level. Murltap Essence. Severus pinched his fingers within, and brought them upon her arm, rubbing above the scar.
"You had winced earlier," Severus commented, picking up her other arm to smear more salve along the scar. He then laid her arm down. And I hardly felt it! Such a Madame Pomfrey.
Turning on his heel, he sat at his desk, pulling out the drawer beneath it. He heaved a tousled mass of parchments, and snatched one to begin grading.
Felicity took that as an invitation to roll down her sleeves and pull a chair to the adjacent end of his desk. She drew out her own study guides and textbooks, and began rereading highlighted chapters. Her eyes drifted across lists of arctic survival spells and their incantations, and she covered up one side of the page with her palm to test her memory.
Whooshes and swishes sliced the air as Felicity drew her wand this way and that, toward specific angles and angled her wrists in odd directions. She babbled the incantations in her head; careful to prevent an actual spell from actually manifesting.
While Severus kept his head faced towards the essay, his eyes shot to her, frowning.
"Practicing for the practical exam," she giggled softly. Wind gusted flowers from her hair, spiraling limply downward as Severus's hair whipped back.
His head snapped to her wand, then her face, but before he could retort, he focused on the falling flowers. Severus dropped his quill, shoving his wand out of the way. He leaned in his seat to catch the asphodels into his palm.
He rose from his chair, nearing her side. Severus brushed his fingers through her hair.
This time, Felicity watched him. The way he entwined her locks with his precise movements, twirling the hair tightly around the flower's stems. And yet, Severus handled the asphodels gently, barely even bending their fibers and leaves.
Severus habitually readjusted the flowers in her hair when they were alone. But today, she randomly chose asphodels. And something about this flower entranced him above the rest, for his dark eyes seem to pierce her more often. Even the mere act of asphodels touching the dungeon floors put an edge on him, he didn't even trust his wand to catch them, nothing but his own hands.
Once he contented with his work, he swept to his desk, sat down, and dipped his quill before she could even blink. His eyes flicked across another assignment.
Felicity grinned, more to herself. She would like to explore deeper into his flower obsession someday. Why mere petals on her appearance seemed to speak a sort of poetry to him; a love poem.
She quietly returned to the chapter, this time reserving the practice for later and only silent reading.
And so they worked as such. A professor and his student. Hours well into the evening, long enough that in the silent ambiance, the scratching of quills and shuffle of pages sounded louder than a voice ever was.
Ironically, for a Ravenclaw, Felicity's mind wandered in and out in cycles throughout her study. She couldn't help it. Focusing on only education on end without mental or physical breaks was difficult.
She wondered how Severus maintained such habitual endurance. But then, his dark eyes observed her. Often.
A few times now, her head buried in the pages, his hooked nose over his own. Quill scratching. And still yet his watchful gaze drifted in her direction. She felt it.
Deep shadows darkened Severus's features at dusk. Dwindling light, or fatigue, she didn't know. But his spine rested in the same place it had since the early afternoon, stiff and still. Felicity stretched her mouth silently, capturing her yawn with her palm.
Severus had to be exhausted. Perhaps he simply obligated his presence for her. In that case, she stood up, pushing her chair back towards a student desk. He kept to his engrossed scan of what looked like the last few of the stack.
She capped her ink jar, and scooped her textbooks and notes in one arm. Felicity brushed against the door, stopping. "Lumos." She held her illuminated wand, preparing to step into the shadowy corridors.
"Professor, why'd you agree to it? To help me?"
Severus held his quill in place, ink pooling into the sentence. His face still buried into his task, black hair draping over his entire face.
Felicity clasped her books tightly. She made no movement.
He raised his head slightly. His black eyes glimmered beneath the peeking strands, reflecting the shards of asphodel.
Severus then looked into her eyes.
He lowered his head, feather scribbling again.
Before exiting, she admired him once more, a man of mystery. A man of reasons; of reasons that cannot be expressed in words.
All she knew was that Severus found great purpose in fulfilling her plea. Deeper emotion than she'd expressed in a lifetime. That the mere asphodels called to him.