Niamh woke up with puffy eyes and a soaked pillow. She pulled her covers tighter around herself, groggily watching the midday life. Luna had an easel before the window, and she painted some creature she observed outside.
"Hey. Doesn't your potion lesson start right now?"
Niamh rolled to the opposite end. "I'm skipping."
Luna set down her easel.
Niamh pushed the covers away, then landed her feet on the floor. She knelt down and wrenched out her potions bags, roughly extracting her homemade experiments. "I'm starting to wonder if my goat and his phoenix Patronus is literally a sign: no connection between them."
"Don't you dare question love, it's true and you know it," Luna scolded her, hurrying over to Niamh's side.
"He mocks my mistakes; he calls the potions I invent useless. A disappointment." She grabbed a vial of her first invention, tossing it at the floor.
Luna lunged and caught it, setting it firmly on their bedstand. "Niamh!"
"We used to be so close last year, he used to smile, to converse with me when we brewed. He constructively criticized my mistakes. I don't understand. Now he despises my presence, but sends me flowers ciphering I love you."
"Niamh!" Luna pulled her friend away from her disbanded potions bag, stopping her from spilling her childhood dreams. "I'm not saying he won't insult you. But you should attend today's lesson anyway."
"What good will that do but irk him and hurt me?"
Luna scooted closer to her. "Niamh, it's not just Dumbledore's death that stresses him. It's all about love. He feels undeserving, and when you come along trying to help him, showing your love, he feels sick. In his mind, you'll soon know him as a murderer. You'll disgust in all things him: potions, his love, his companionship. He's making it easier on you to hate him before you indefinitely will."
Luna looked to the window, resting her eyes on the lone elk grazing the school grounds. She turned back to Niamh. "He's hurting deeply. Out of all times, he needs love the most right now. He needs your presence, because no matter how often he lies to himself, his heart flutters every time you persist, every time you brew with him. Every time you argue when he wants you gone for the day. You just have to let him see it."
Niamh held her hollow quartz necklace. "It's my dream," she murmured, "he has to know that."
Luna stood up, wandering to the red chrysanthemum plant. The seedlines now sprouted tall, forming the points for petals. The once, tiny bloom above now sprouted outward, full and aromatic. Luna watered the soil. "He does."
Niamh gathered her materials, then exited the dorm.
She stood alone in the corridors, facing the door in which he had sent her away so often.
The evening sunlight illuminated her unkempt, sleepy and saddened curls of hair. She raised a knuckle to the surface, wondering if Severus would even be there anymore.
Nothing. No sound but students outside.
"Professor Snape?" She knocked again.
Niamh knocked a third time, and the handle shifted.
Lowering her eyes, she saw it unlocked. All around her, Severus was not to be seen nor heard in the corridor. Niamh pushed the door a sliver open, slipping in.
The lab table held nothing but cold air; their pending potions stored somewhere beyond sight. The desks were wiped down for the weekend, and the board cleared.
Niamh wandered to his shelving, hunting for their potions. She ducked and climbed, pulled and pushed cabinets. Eventually, she managed to find two cauldrons, half full of the developing antidote. The ingredients were grouped together: herbs, mistletoe berries, and hemp oil. She gathered them all in her arms, careful to not slosh the potion contents as she positioned the cauldrons.
Niamh flipped open both potion books, reading over the next steps in each procedure. She held her wand, ready to activate the heat. And yet, Severus still was nowhere to be seen.
She wandered towards his desk, finding a stash of pending assignments shoved away, messy and mixed. In the cleared space, the hauntingly familiar object gazed back at her.
Niamh leaned over the concaved, burnt and bent structure. Her quartz necklace hung a shadow over the space, gently brushing the iron rim. White dust puffed up, filling her nose with a salty burn.
She pulled back, rubbing the substance from her eyes and lashes. Niamh opened them.
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 simple ritual bring you happiness? Why are you always---" he stepped closer to her, "so---" by her elbows, he gently held her to him, "---happy?"
A droplet escaped from his eye, splashing on the floor between them. He gazed his vulnerability into her eyes, his dark tresses brushing his chin.
"Tell me, do you believe in shifting reality?"
Severus's hooked nose brushed against hers. He repeated his response from last year. "I do not believe in miracles."
Niamh gazed at him. Tentatively, she reached out a hand.
Severus stood still, his obsidian eyes focused on her.
Softly, Niamh wrapped a hand around his neck. Drawing him closer. With a delicate finger, she brushed his hair from his eyes, tracing his face. The classroom atmosphere drafted chilly air against their backs. But the space between kindled an intimate warmth.
She held his neck, his forehead leaning against hers. Their noses pressed up against each other, their lips an immeasurable breadth apart. "Severus," she breathed.
His throat bobbed, his watery eyes still on hers.
"Yes?"
"I want you to call me a name that reminds you most of this moment."
Severus closed his eyes, hugging her waist tighter to him. "A doe. My doe."
Another strand dropped to face. She pushed it away, and beneath her fingers, his eyes opened. His intense gaze upon her revealed something beyond even Lily, that this pure creature meant something more to him.
"Then . . . then I'll always be your doe."
Niamh pressed her lips to his.
Severus's lips were soft and still. His black eyes watched her own, his arms still around her waist. Niamh finished the kiss, and just as her lips began to fall back, Severus tightened his grip around her waist. He pulled her to his chest, feeling the outline of his torso beneath his robes.
Severus pushed his lips back on hers, pressing firmly enough to part her lips. Warmth and the taste of ecstasy entered her mouth, his body pressing into hers. She began pushing forward, their tongues tasting one another. He tasted of herbs and potions, of coffee and cream.
Niamh's mind cleared, all thoughts and fears absent. As he breathed heavily on her, entwining his mouth with hers, all that mattered was Severus. In all realities, it was the most real emotion she had experienced. She slipped her hand up his neck, to his hair, tangling into his silky tresses. Severus only devoured her mouth further, his lips rubbing every inch of skin.
"My doe . . ." he murmured in between kisses, removing his lips briefly. He pressed his wet lips beside her mouth, trailing a heated path down her jaw. "My doe." Severus nipped at her neck, tuggingly gently at her flesh.
"Severus . . ." Niamh gasped, twirling his hair in her grasp to pull downward. The red chrysanthemum flashed in her mind, the blood-colored petals as heated as his passion, for she struggled to pry his teeth from her neck. With a suctioned pop, Severus managed to remove his lips from her skin, gazing into her brown doe's eyes.
She cupped his chin, then soothed his disheveled tresses with her fingers.
"I love you." Niamh pushed her lips to his again.
Severus's black eyes fixed on hers, and he slowly brushed his lips, drawing away. A flash of memories reflected in his gaze, and he tore his gaze away from her. He closed them shut, pressing his lips together, but tears escaped his lashes anyway.
Niamh reached for him, rubbing the tears from his cheeks. "I meant it. I saved myself for you."
Severus's thumb rubbed his wrist, as if trying to see if she were real.
He spoke so softly. Soft enough that it might have been a thought. "Likewise."
He didn't wait for her response, he didn't spare a moment to let her go, a rush of cold air hitting her front as he stepped back. He made to turn towards his desk. The outline of Severus's face flushed red, all the way down to his hooked nose. It seemed as if he realized what he just admitted to her.
But Niamh held a different opinion.
"I think virginity is beautiful," Niamh spoke up, stopping him. "I think you're beautiful."
"How long?" Severus spoke softly, remaining in place.
"Painfully long," she answered. "I adorn flowers in my hair for you."
A trace of a smile twisted his lips, real and tangible. Niamh returned it, walking over to him. She entwined her fingers with his. His palms radiated a new heat. "I guess we should continue our potions, then?"
Severus leaned down. His lips hesitated, as if still learning the art of love. Softly, he kissed her temple, his hair brushing her cheeks. He wrapped an arm around her waist, escorting her towards the lab table.
After heating their potions, they each sprinkled herbs, allowing them to float on top per the procedures. She read the next steps. "Do we really have to add steps seven and nine?" She braced her arm, anticipating the ache with each word.
"Yes. But I created an assisting spell as such," Severus smirked, "but to automatically stir at millimeter speed for 77 minutes requires initial perfection in casting it. One extra stir, one notch of acceleration or deceleration can offset the antidote."
Niamh took out her wand, holding it parallel to his. Severus held his wand over his cauldron, twirling in a slow, steady line. "Gradarius."
Nothing.
Niamh leaned closer; Severus caught her dangling hair and necklace, and covered the flowered hair with his palm, keeping them intact. The ladle indeed was moving. No ripples echoed in the still potion, just a stir moving molecule by molecule. She drew out her wand towards her cauldron.
Severus gently guided her hand away, levitating her ladle out of it. "You must practice first, should you mistake your move on the first attempt."
The ladle levitated in the air, awaiting. She twirled in a slow curve, her hand shaking to perfect the slow, steady speed that Severus demonstrated. "Gradarius."
The ladle hovered the same. Severus, however, swept towards it, peering at the handle at eye-level. "It is too fast. Your potion would seize through the cauldron."
Severus remained there, his eyes expectantly on the ladle. Niamh raised her wand, licking her lips in order to say his incantation perfectly clear. She readied her wrist for the slow twirl."Gradarius."
The ladle remained in place as before, as if unaffected. Severus tipped the handle with a finger, bouncing it in the air. "It's not moving. Your wand hardly moved an inch."
Niamh tried for almost an hour, progressing little.
Severus eventually swept to her, entwining her wanded hand with his. "Try nonverbal magic."
Niamh looked to the ladle, sighing. "I can't . . ." she trailed off. The ladle almost inched.
She turned back to Severus. His body was turned towards her, his eyes on hers. They weren't on the ladle. His wand was tucked into his robes.
Severus had his fingers entwined over hers, and they barely brushed her wand through them. "Severus . . . did you?"
"Yes. You quite learn that not only can magic be nonverbal, but in practice, it can be made without seeing it. And channeled through another's wand." He squeezed her palm, suggesting her to try it.
He slid his fingers off her own, giving her space. She pointed her wand to the ladle. Her wrist moved with natural steadiness, slow as if his presence was guiding her movement. Gradarius.
The ladle floated unmoving. "Is it too slow aga---"
But his large shadow cut her off with the sudden brush of his cloak against her body. Severus pulled her face into a deep kiss, holding his pleasure for a minute. "You remind me of a student," he breathed, drawing away. "A potions student."
"Who?"
"Myself."
Niamh wrapped her arms around him, watching the hovering ladle. Her eyes held a certain sadness.
A rough warmth scratched her hand, which was Severus's palm. The texture of his skin never was never truly known until now. He dropped her hand gently, showing the callouses on his hands. "A potions student, who, found himself burnt. Cut." Faint marks were left behind on his fingers.
"I cannot let you ruin, Felicity. Had I not vanished the flame and potion in Slughorn's class, that student's potion would have injured you."
"Tell me, was it right? Azulis?" The incantation she had invented for her own experiments, and one she almost cast on the antidote last time. Before Severus insulted her, that is. Before he halted the process and banished her from his sight.
Severus turned away from her, silently moving the ladle in his potion. He dipped Niamh's ladle in her own cauldron, awaiting her spell. "Every time your brilliant mind invents, I fear for you. I fear the mistakes."
Niamh murmured the incantation, watching her ladle hardly drift above the cauldron. Molecule by molecule.
Severus cupped her chin, both of them leaning on the lab table. Their potions were set to stir themselves for hours; the ingredients stored away. "Don't apparate. Understand? Remind yourself that I am still a Death Eater."