Fic: Longings of the Heart
Aug. 1st, 2015 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starduchessI know this is many months away from the original posting, but I finally got the time to update my LJ. This was from ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snape_potter Snarry-a-thon 2015 fest.
Title: Longings of the Heart
Author:starduchess
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~9200
Warnings: Chan (16)(but nothing really happens), potions accident, suggestive sexual themes, genderbending
Summary: As she reviewed her latest memories, Severa Snape thought she might have to revise her earlier assessment; this might very well be a potion-induced headache. Especially one that involved Harriet Potter.
A/N: Written as Femmeslash Snarry based on this art by ananovik, especially the bottom right corner. Thanks to my beta for the read through and the mods for hosting another awesome fest. I love both femmeslash and slash, and when I saw this prompt go up, I had to snatch it up and write it. Enjoy!
Severa Snape stalked back to her classroom, her dark eyes flashing in annoyance at the miscreants this establishment called students, when in truth they were little more than hooligans. Hardly a scrap of intelligence among them and even less talent. It was a waste of her own time spending day after day trying to stuff their hormone-addled brains with potions knowledge, most of which would be lost through under-usage, if it was retained at all. And then the rest of her precious time was taken up supervising detentions and prowling the halls for delinquents. At least she got to terrorize the little miscreants and take massive House points if and when she found any.
Tonight was another detention with her most loathsome student, the bane of her existence, Harriet Potter. The chit was fawned over by the entire school, staff and students alike, even though her only talents were in flying and getting into deadly adventures. If she wasn’t her best friend’s daughter, and if she wasn’t necessary for the downfall of the Dark Lord, Severa would have petitioned harder for the girl’s expulsion years ago.
In order to startle her rule-breaker, she burst open the classroom door, banging it on the wall. It gave her great satisfaction to watch Potter jump in surprise as she stormed into the room. “Miss Potter, it is gratifying to see that your cohorts haven’t kept you from detention. At least you’ve learned that much over the last six years.”
Potter shifted her robes around, fiddling in her nervousness. “Yes, ma’am.”
Severa sneered. “But you’ve still managed to learn zilch about potions. What was that monstrosity this afternoon?”
Eyes flashing with defiance, Potter stood straighter. “It was coming along fine until Parkinson blew fairy dust --”
“Don’t you dare blame your incompetence on my Slytherins! It’s your responsibility to properly prepare your ingredients, follow the instructions, and guard your cauldron. Since --”
“I shouldn’t have to ‘guard my cauldron!’ If they would just leave off --”
Severa slammed her hand down on the table, her black-nailed fingers drumming a soft rhythm that hinted at her growing ire. Lowering her voice, she said, “Did you just interrupt a teacher, Miss Potter?”
Potter knew the danger signs -- how could she not after six long years with the woman as her worst professor -- but she didn’t heed them. She let her frustration get to her again. “It’s just that you ignore what’s happening right in front of you, just because they are in your House! It’s completely unfair!”
Severa narrowed her eyes. “Life is unfair. There’s no use squabbling about it. As for your insolence, twenty points from Gryffindor and an extra hour scrubbing cauldrons tonight. First, though, you will remake the potion you were expected to produce today.” She paused a moment then narrowed her eyes further. “What are you waiting for? Get to work!”
Miss Potter snapped out of her haze and headed to the supply cabinet. Severa sat down at her desk and began to grade essays, ignoring the girl.
--
After forty-five minutes, long enough to reach the halfway point, Severa put down her marking, rose, and walked over to Potter’s station. She lifted an eyebrow upon inspecting the contents of the cauldron. It was light pink instead of intense deep purple. “What did you concoct this time, Miss Potter? This does not look like the Draught of Living Death.”
Potter looked anxiously down at her potion and back up again. “It ... uh, I followed the instructions. I made the base with salt water and bubotuber paste and let that simmer for ten minutes. Then I added the valerian root --”
“Cut how fine?”
“Little slivers, just like it says.” Her voice was getting snippy. She picked up one of the leftover pieces and presented it for inspection.
Severa took one glance at it, noting the proper size and shape, and then returned her stare to the vibrant green eyes. “Go on.”
Potter dropped the root and gestured to the next set of ingredients. “Then I powdered the wormwood and placed the crushed asphodel petals in the center and pressed for the infusion.”
Severa glanced again at the ingredients on the table, zeroing in on the petals. She bristled. “These petals are yellow, not off-white,” she hissed.
Potter flared with indignation. “What’s the difference? It was labeled asphodel!”
“You imbecile! This is bog asphodel from North America, not regular asphodel from Greece.”
Clenching her fists, she repeated her question. “Why should that make any difference? They’re both daffodils!”
Severa’s own ire was rising beyond her control, and she leant over the table in intimidation. “It matters because they have completely different magical properties.”
“Well, why don’t you tell us these things!” Potter shrieked at her, pounding her fists on the table. Unfortunately, she hit with such force as to rock her cauldron. A bit of the light-pink potion spilled out onto both of them. “Aaaagh!” she screamed.
Severa hissed as the hot liquid touched her flesh, just as she was reaching forward to stop the girl. “Potter, we need to call for --” But she couldn’t finish her statement, much less call for help or cast any life-saving spells, as both of them fell onto the floor, deep asleep.
--
Severa woke with a pounding headache. Long experience with magical, physical, and emotional ailments that caused such a condition let her know this was magically induced. There was no dehydration caused by strong drink nor any head stuffiness to indicate a sinus problem. There was no pounding heartbeat and no sweat leftover from a nightmare. Nothing else in her body ached, so she doubted she'd been in a fight or explosion. There was no strange smell nor any lingering aftertaste in her mouth, so potions were marked off the list. So that left a magical attack, which could have come from any quarter. She remained as still as possible, not just to keep her head from hurting, but also to keep from alerting a potential enemy that she was awake. She opened her senses and observed.
An answering groan came from beside her, and a body moved, attempting to get up. It managed to roll halfway over, groaning at the effort. "Ugh, Professor?" it moaned. The voice was gravelly, as though its owner, too, was just waking up. It continued moving, bumping its elbow into her abdomen. "Is that you?"
Severa inwardly sneered. Of course it’s me. It would be useful to know who you are. She then felt hands grasping at her, one hand brushing against her breast and sending a frisson of energy through her body. The sensation was so unfamiliar that she involuntarily gasped and shied away.
"Oh, sorry, Professor Snape! Are you okay? I was just trying to see if you were okay. It's rather dark in here, even with the sconces lit."
"Potter!" she admonished, for she had finally identified the voice of her companion. "Stop rambling!"
"Oh! Sorry."
With care Severa opened her eyes a crack and looked around. She and Potter were lying on the ground half under a work table. Above them on other tables were stacked cauldrons and empty vials and, turning her head to the right, she could make out a corner of her desk, so they were still in the potions laboratory. As she reviewed her latest memories, she thought she might have to revise her earlier assessment; this might very well be a potion-induced headache.
She turned and glared at her least favourite student. "Your incompetence, Potter, knows no bounds. Clean up the mess that I'm sure is above us and then return to your dorm. I want a two-foot essay by tomorrow's detention on why you shouldn't lose your temper and become physical around potion ingredients. Now, leave!"
With great care, she picked herself up off the floor and better surveyed the classroom. Things were in less a state of disarray than she'd expected, with the exception of Potter's workspace that had the failed potion all over it. She grimaced at the waste. Students had no appreciation for the craft, the delicate care of the materials, the precision necessary for art to become form. Her mood foul, she walked over to her chair and gingerly sat down, her head still pounding.
Potter picked up her space, cleaned the cauldron and the utensils, and mopped up the table and floor. Severa watched the young woman work and noticed how efficient she was. And then she huffed at herself. Of course Potter was good at cleaning. She'd had a detention with Severa at least once a month for her entire school career, and Severa would not let her get away with shabby cleaning methods. Still, she found herself enjoying watching the movements of Potter's arms and fingers, legs and torso. She wasn't fluid like a dancer, but her actions were sure and steady.
When Potter was finished, she stood before Severa's desk, awaiting dismissal. Again, at least, something had become habit.
"I told you to leave as soon as you were finished," she said, narrowing her eyes, which made her head pound. She needed medication, but first she had to get rid of Potter. "Go!"
Potter collected her things and walked toward the classroom door. She opened it and stepped outside, only for both of them to cry out loud as pain shot through them, right to their cores. Potter instinctively stepped back into the classroom and the pain subsided.
Severa was panting and casting thoughts around her own head as to what was happening. Was it something in that potion or something else unrelated? She would need to investigate. "Potter, walk over here." Potter obeyed her, coming to stand on the other side of her desk. Nothing, no twinges of pain or other feeling. "Now, go step out the door again, carefully." She obeyed again, an unusual feat that Severa had not the chance to savour as the pain hit again. Potter stepped back inside and the pain abated. Severa got up and came over to the door. "Try it again."
"Are you serious? I just did that twice!"
"Yes, and I was ten meters away each time. Let us see if it still happens when I'm two feet from you." Severa gave her a no-nonsense, you-better-go-along-with-my-advice stare.
Potter huffed in annoyance and walked over the threshold. The pain shot through both of them again. She half skipped, half stumbled back into the classroom. "Oh, gosh, this is so not fun."
"We should try to go together. I wish to ascertain the extent of our dilemma."
Looking doubtful, Potter agreed. "Okay, on three? One, two, ...." On three they both stepped through the doorway. Nothing happened. Good. Severa nodded at her to go away, turned, and began to walk back to her own rooms, hoping they had broken whatever spell had encased them in the classroom. When they got about fifty meters apart, however, the pain hit them again, and they both groaned out. It faded as they stepped back toward each other.
"Lovely, Potter. It appears we have to be within fifty meters of each other in the same room. It will take some time for me to figure out what you've done and research a counter potion. In the meantime, you will do exactly as you're told, and we need to inform the headmaster right away. Come with me." Severa walked past her and continued up and out of the dungeons. Potter had to race to keep up with her long legs.
--
“Well,” said Headmaster Dumbledore, “this is an interesting situation, my dears. How much time do you think it will take to research, Professor Snape?”
Feeling unusually upset, she glowered at him. “Depending, I could find the solution tomorrow or it could take up to a week. Far too long, in either case.”
“There’s nothing for it, then. Miss Potter will have to stay with you tonight and the days to come. I’ll hold off your classes until then, and Miss Potter can study while you are working.” He gave them a small smile and a nod, twinkling furiously at their matching wide-eyed looks of shock. Clearly, they had not followed the logical progression of consequences to the point of sleeping arrangements, although Severa would have gotten there soon enough.
Dammit, she didn’t want this. Potter in close proximity. Potter in her domicile! “Headmaster, you can’t be serious. It would be completely inappropriate for a student to inhabit a teacher’s rooms.”
Dumbledore just stared at her with calm. “So should you, a teacher, invade her dormitory? Sleep alongside the other Gryffindor girls? At least, you are all female.”
Severa bristled at that. Not to the all-female part, no -- in fact, she had a strange sensation inside her that claimed it was not a bad idea -- it was to the Gryffindor and sleeping-with-other-students parts that had her in an uproar. “Absolutely not!”
“Ah, then, you don’t mind your rooms,” Albus said in his irritating manner.
“No, there has to be another solution.” Severa stumbled around in her thoughts for places to go. “The teachers’ lounge, the infirmary, your office, an abandoned classroom -- really any public space. I would suggest the library, but between Madam Pince’s possessiveness and the fear that Miss Potter might absorb too much knowledge through osmosis and have her head explode in the middle of the night, ruining all of the books, well, I hesitate to put that forth.”
“Hey!” said Potter from beside her, the first she’d spoken since entering the office. “I’m not unknowledgeable, and I do fine in my other classes, just not yours!”
The anger coming from her hit Severa in the gut. She hated that the celebrity would think so little of her class as to not put forth the effort in learning the delicate art of potion brewing and, more, her pride hurt that the students would downplay her chosen field and mock its importance. It even made her feel like a second-rate witch playing at sorcery, as if she was some Muggle fairy-tale horror. She clenched her hands into fists, her long nails biting into her flesh. “If you took the subject seriously ….”
“Patience, both of you,” Dumbledore said, holding up his hands to placate them. “This constant animosity is not helping the situation. I suggest you take it easy for the rest of the evening and the next few days. You both need sleep and that is best done in your quarters, Severa. I will overlook the school’s regulations for now as this is a special matter. Now, off you go.” And he escorted them out of his office.
At the top of the revolving staircase, Severa and Potter stared at each other in disbelief. She could practically see each thought flit past Potter’s eyes even if she hadn’t picked them up from the surface of Potter’s mind via Legilimency: anger, humiliation, unfairness, resentment, resignation, despair, loneliness, yearning, lust, embarrassment … wait, lust? She must be thinking of a fellow student, maybe even a rendezvous with a suitor planned for after detention which she would now miss. It was one more thing Severa resented about their perfect saviour -- all the dates and attention she must receive for being the Girl Who Lived. It gave her great satisfaction in knowing that Miss Potter’s plans were now ruined for the night.
“Come on, Potter. Let’s get this absurdity over with.” She turned and trudged down the stairs, knowing the girl would follow. All the way back to her quarters, she was wondering about Potter’s affections.
--
Entering her rooms, she looked around at the space. Everything was still as clean and tidy as she had left it. Her mother had taught her how to keep a room, at least, even though her father cared not a lick for it, always leaving the house a mess, and Severa was determined not to be like him. “You may put your book bag there in that corner, Miss Potter, and revise at the table there. Bedtime is in one hour.”
She started to walk away to the door to her office but was stopped when Potter spoke. “But I didn’t bring anything else with me to detention.”
Severa was quite irritated by now. “If you don’t have the presence of mind to carry your school work with you, then I pity the employers who will govern you in the future. Surely, you brought your Potions notes to a Potions detention, so you may at least work on that.”
“I did, but I have a History of Magic essay due tomorrow!” she said with a whine in her voice that grated on Severa’s already frayed nerves. Oh, how she hated whiny children.
Her eyes flashed dangerously as she hissed, “That is of no concern to me. We will attend to your things in the morning while the rest of the school is at breakfast, and then you may have all day to work on your other assignments, as I’m not about to journey with you to your other classes and, indeed, need to be here developing a solution to our little problem. Understood?”
Potter backed down a tad. “Yes, ma’am.”
Severa nodded and went to her office doorway. She didn’t step through, knowing the spell would activate and hurt them for crossing the boundary, so she simply summoned her grading. She sat in a high-backed chair, quill and red ink pot beside her, and began marking, trying to ignore the girl who was invading her precious solitude. Nothing was sacred anymore.
She noticed that Potter didn’t move at all for the first fifteen minutes, just stared at her mutely, as she sploshed red marks all over the students’ parchments. She could feel those green eyes upon her, watching her, and it was worse than any meeting she’d had with Dumbledore. Finally, Potter relented and sat down at the table, taking out her Potions text and reading it.
Silence descended upon them, and Severa was surprised to find it comfortable. She lost herself in the grading and time flew. She found herself growing sleepy and knew it was time for bed. Setting the parchments aside, she rose from her chair and scowled at Potter asleep at the table, her head resting on an arm, drool threatening to drench the book.
“Potter,” she barked, watching with amusement as she jumped awake. “Tidy your things. I will have the shower first while you attend to your other nightly ablutions, and then we can switch.”
With a yawn, Potter rubbed her eyes under her ridiculous spectacles. “Okay, Professor.” She packed up her things and left them in the corner, and then she squeezed with Severa through the doorway into the bedroom. They were so close that Severa could smell the broom polish still lingering on her clothes, probably from Quidditch practice earlier in the day. It was earthy, a very homey smell.
Severa sniffed at herself next, grimacing at the foul stench clinging to her own robes from their accident earlier, not to mention all the other noxious fumes that she was exposed to every day. She enjoyed her work and found it fascinating how the different ingredients came together in a most pleasing manner, but she did acknowledge that those odours, while acceptable within the laboratory, were not tolerated in polite company. Good thing there was no polite company here, she thought. Including the present company.
They managed another tight squeeze into the bathroom, and Severa made quick work of disrobing. She wasn’t really body conscious, although she knew she wasn’t much to look at -- too skinny, extremely pale complexion, big nose, small breasts (though it looked like Potter had her beat in that department -- the girl was barely an A cup). She had lived in the Slytherin dorms with other girls during her own school days, so she remembered sharing living quarters. It felt odd having another person in her own personal space, however, after two decades of being alone.
She didn’t look at Potter as she stepped into the shower and ran the water. She lathered up and scrubbed down, giving a perfunctory once-over to her body, only concentrating on her hands and wrists where the potion had splashed onto her. She rinsed off and then turned around to wet her hair, closing her eyes for a second to enjoy the warmth.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find Potter staring directly at her. “Potter! Eyes away!” Heat rose in her face from embarrassment even as she watched the girl squeak, jump, and turn around so fast that she would have created a small cyclone if they’d been outside in the rain.
“Sorry!” Potter grabbed for her toiletry kit and pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of it. As she hastily began brushing, Severa returned to her own cleaning, lathering a small amount of the bar soap into her hair, as she had done for years since her childhood, when money and necessities had been scarce. It didn’t do much except to erase the top coat of chemicals and it certainly didn’t eliminate the oil from her hair, but that was fine by her.
As she summoned a towel after rinsing, her eyes met Potter’s again, this time reflected in the bathroom mirror. Still irritated about this intrusion into her private life, she sneered. “Not all of us can be beauty winners, Miss Potter.” She dried off while stepping out of the shower, the magical towel banishing the water as it touched her.
Potter still hadn’t spoken as Severa finished drying in the small space, and she was rapidly losing patience. Making eye contact again, she jerked her head in the direction of the shower. “Hurry up.”
She watched in supervisor fashion as Potter put away her things and disrobed. The girl really was a late bloomer, all awkward angles and no real curves to speak of. She felt guilty, though, at Potter’s scars, evidence that she had not protected her well enough here at school. She stepped away from those thoughts and went through her own bedtime routine.
After Potter had dried off and they had both slipped on nightclothes, they squeezed back into the bedroom. Severa was even more aware of the closeness of their bodies, and she swallowed. What was wrong with her? Maybe she was just tired from the day and the potions accident. Nothing for it but sleep. She slipped into her bed, said “Nox” to turn off the lights, and closed her eyes.
And then promptly opened them again as she felt the bed dip. “Potter! What are you doing?”
“Sharing the bed.” She couldn’t see Potter, but she could hear the obstinacy in her voice.
“And what, pray tell, gave you the impression that I would be offering my bed to you?” Her own voice was low and dangerous and dripping with annoyance.
“Well, we have to be together, there’s only one bed, and I’m not sleeping on the floor!” Severa felt her shift the rest of the way onto the bed and pout.
“Are you or are you not a witch, Potter? Have you forgotten all your lessons? Conjure or transfigure your own bed!” She was yelling by the end. Really, this was too much to put up with.
“Fine,” huffed Potter. She got back out of the bed, summoned her wand and a chair from the living room, and transfigured it into a bed. Not a very good bed. Even in the dim light Severa could see that it was lumpy and leant a bit toward one corner that was shorter than the others. Served Potter right for messing up her potion and getting them both into this ridiculous situation.
Severa turned away and closed her eyes again. She listened as the girl lay down on her makeshift camp bed, it squeaking and she muttering. Soon the place was quiet again, and just as soon after that they were both asleep.
--
Severa was having a good dream. She was warm and cozy within the arms of someone firm and muscular. The proportions seemed skewed, but she didn’t mind as the skin was warm and smooth and the scent was clean and woodsy. She reveled in it and snuggled further into the lovely embrace.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” came a voice in her ear. She had to agree. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this peaceful and relaxed. She hummed a little in reply, letting her thumb trace circles on the smooth skin.
An emboldened hand caressed up and down her spine, and she sighed in contentment, falling back asleep.
--
“Potter! What the devil are you doing in my bed?” Severa screeched in the morning when she awoke to find the two of them entwined together. She pushed the girl away from her and quickly arose. Glancing around the room, she saw that the makeshift cot was still in existence, just that Potter wasn’t in it.
Sputtering and looking aghast, she said, “I’m sorry, Professor! I went to bed there and woke up here!”
“And in what universe do you think such actions are appropriate?” Severa wanted to yell and take House points immediately.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t do it! Not that you ever believe me.” She stood there in her pajamas looking frustrated and petulant.
“Don’t give me your cheek, Miss Potter. You clearly climbed into bed with me. Perhaps if you worked on your transfiguration skills instead of foolish things like Quidditch, you wouldn’t have needed to use me as a pillow! Now, get dressed.” She stormed over to the wardrobe and snatched out clean clothes for the day. Turning her back to the girl, she dressed, feeling more self-conscious than she had in a long time, and then waited for Potter to summon her own outfit and dress.
Together they left the bedroom and sat down at a small table in Severa’s kitchenette. Tea and coffee appeared on the table.
Potter looked at her in confusion. “Aren’t we going to the Great Hall for breakfast? Won’t people be suspicious if we don’t?”
Severa gave her a look that said she was an idiot. “People will be suspicious when you don’t show up for classes today. Some may already be, since you never returned to your dormitory after detention yesterday. There is no need to create even more suspicion by having us show up together and leave together. Besides, we need to get your things from the tower and while everyone is at breakfast is the perfect opportunity to do so. I mentioned that yesterday. Were you not listening?” Her voice was low again with displeasure in having to repeat herself.
“Oh, right. You did.” Potter had clearly forgotten. “Can we eat now, then?”
Severa nodded and tapped the table with her wand. Food -- rashers with eggs, toast and marmalade -- as well as pumpkin juice appeared, and the two of them dug into a quiet breakfast. It was surprisingly relaxing, not having to put up with the gossip from the other teachers and not getting a headache from the chatter of students. Potter, thankfully, didn’t say anything, as she was too busy stuffing her face.
Afterward, they left her quarters and went up to Gryffindor tower. As expected, no one else was in the Common Room or the dorms, so they made quick work of getting Potter’s things and returning to the dungeons. Severa began to research all the ingredients used in the botched potion, and Potter went to study at one of the desks. Again a companionable silence filled the air between them and they both got lost in what they were doing. Severa looked up from her work when her stomach growled, frowning at the lack of conclusions she had reached. She was amazed that it was lunchtime without a word or distraction from Potter, who appeared to be studious for once. “We will break for lunch.”
Potter blinked up at her with owl eyes, and Severa gritted her teeth against the awful look of those spectacles. They distorted her features and made her look geeky, similar enough to Trelawny that it caused a shiver to run down Severa’s spine. Why hadn’t anyone offered to fix her eyesight? A magical procedure had been developed by a team of medi-wizards in America a few years ago. Had no one thought to ask for their advice or to bring one over the pond for a consultation? Severa wondered if she’d be prettier if the glasses were removed, and then she shook herself for such thoughts.
“Stop staring. Leave your books and we’ll adjoin to my quarters.” Potter closed her books and followed Severa back to the table at which they’d shared breakfast and sat down for lunch. Unlike at breakfast, she knew she couldn’t evade conversation forever.
“Have you found out anything about the potion?” Potter asked with open curiosity and a pinch of anxiety.
Severa took a swallow of her tea before answering. “Not much. You had added the valerian root, so that was the cause of our unconsciousness, but you hadn’t yet gotten to the sopophorous beans, which induces the coma-like sleep in the correct version of the Draught of Living Death. Be very glad you had not or neither of us might be awake or even alive right now.”
Potter lowered her eyes in contrite thought. “You said the bog asphodel was different.”
“Yes. I’m still not sure what the ramifications are for that change in the potion, for which I need to send off a letter to a colleague after lunch, but I am certain it does not make for death.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” she said with hope in her eyes and a lightness in her face.
Severa stared at her for her incomprehension. “Good? Not so much if the result is that you turn into a skrewt or you can no longer eat anything but flobberworms or if it causes you unending nightmares. You might wish for death, then.”
Instead of being upset at these words, Potter looked more cheery. “I’m not a skrewt, I can eat just fine, and I’ve always had nightmares, so that’s nothing new. Nope, it doesn’t look like the potion’s messed up anything.”
Severa slammed her fork down. “Except that we can’t leave each other’s company.”
Potter’s eyes widened again. “Oh, right.”
“Eat your lunch, so that I may get back to the task at hand of removing said effect from us.” She produced her most stern visage.
Potter didn’t even look fazed by it, but she did hurry up and finish her food.
--
The two traveled up to the owlery right after eating, Severa with her letter of inquiry and Potter with her lost thoughts. As she tied the letter to a generic school owl’s leg, she watched Potter pet her own snowy owl, talking quietly to it, features softening into a sort of content sadness, which didn’t make much sense. She discarded that thought and turned back to the post owl.
They spent the rest of the afternoon working. Severa only had to scold her once for practising her charms work near the simmering cauldrons full of tests. They broke for dinner just as they had for lunch, Potter starting the conversation again.
“Did you find out anything new this afternoon?” she asked as they ate soup.
“Not particularly. I have several test batches brewing and will check the results in the morning. It became apparent that, at least, the bog asphodel is less potent than its Greek counterpart.”
Thinking, Potter was silent for a moment. “So we could be slowly dying instead of quick dying.”
“Idiot, there is no slowing of the potion. The strength means that whatever the bog asphodel is doing, it’s doing it with less fervor. Lower intensity. More subtle.”
“So it could still be quite dangerous?”
Severa nodded at her.
“Okay, can I ask you about an astronomy question?” It was an obvious change of subject.
“Yes, you may,” she said, letting the matter drop. She would let Potter stew in her thoughts about the possible death or dismemberment she had caused. In the meantime she’d talk about schoolwork. She mentally braced herself for Potter’s stupidity and inane babbling, so she was taken aback at Potter’s astute questioning. The girl knew her basics in Astronomy, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures, was a bit behind in Transfiguration, and was woefully under-informed about History and Arithmancy, not to mention Potions. Severa found herself discussing multiple topics at length through dinner and enjoying it. Oh, Potter still said naive things that Severa berated her for and their discussion on Transfiguration became heated at one point, but overall it was a comfortable meal.
They were eating an egg custard with caramel drizzle when Severa put forth her own question. “Why have you never obtained different glasses? Those look repugnant on you.”
Potter sat up straight in shock, spoon laden with dessert halfway to her mouth. She collected herself a moment later, lowering the spoon back to her plate. “My aunt is a bit … frugal, so if these work, then I don’t need a new pair.”
“And you haven’t bothered to ask an opti-wizard for other options?” There wasn’t the disgust in her voice that she thought there should be. She frowned at herself and wondered why she cared.
Potter, though, just shrugged. “I didn’t know they existed; no one’s ever said anything or taken me. Besides, the other options are probably more expensive. I don’t think my aunt would go for it.”
“But you have plenty of money in the Potter fortune,” Severa said with confusion. She had also noticed the scant supply of clothes in Potter’s trunk, and signs weren’t adding up.
“Oh, I have some in my fund, yeah, but I have to make sure that covers tuition, books, potion supplies, clothes, and school robes for each year.” She said this as if it should be evident to any bystander.
“Surely, that is not all the Potter funds; you must have a trust fund set up. Perhaps you will have access to it when you come of age. It’s something about which you should ask the goblins.” Severa studied her for a quiet moment as she finished her dessert. Then, she said, “But doesn’t your aunt provide you with clothes and essentials?”
Surprising her, Potter gave a disgusted snort. “Yeah, a few items, and she complains about how much she has to spend on me and why can’t I just use Dudley’s old spares, like I want to run around in his filthy boxing shorts. Eww.” She gave a ruffle of her nose as if she smelled something awful and shivered in revulsion.
Severa had no retort for that. It almost sounded like Potter was treated like a second-class citizen, but that couldn’t be. “Certainly, your uncle would not approve.”
Potter actually laughed at that. “Yeah, he most definitely didn’t approve of anything that had to do with me. The less others saw of me, no matter what I was wearing, the better, and, thus, it didn’t matter what I was wearing. And it doesn’t, not while I’m at school with robes, anyway.”
Severa was quite irritated at this now and decided to end the conversation. “Be that as it may, you could at least make an inquiry to the opti-wizards.”
Sighing, Potter said, “Fine.”
“Let’s stay in for the evening. If you have any further reading, you should do that. Dumbledore will be dropping off my students’ assignments for grading soon, and I will need to work on that tonight.”
“Don’t you ever have time off?” Potter asked with incredulity.
“I’m teaching seven years of brats, which amounts to nearly four hundred essays and quizzes every week, so the answer is no. Teachers don’t have time off.” She swiped her wand over the table, clearing the dirty plates back to the Hogwarts kitchens and walked over to answer her door as a knock sounded that turned out to be the expected Headmaster with her paperwork.
No further conversation was on offer that evening.
--
They went to bed the same as before, awkwardness in the bathroom and all. Potter reconfigured her bed and now it sat even with the floor. Severa gave her a look that told her she better stay in her bed this time. Potter nodded in full agreement and lay down on it with a quick, “Night, Professor.” The lights went out and they were both asleep in minutes.
Severa had another wonderful dream, this one even better than the last. She was held in small but strong arms that were massaging the kinks out of her back. She moaned into the sensations, tension easing out of her and making her feel languid. One hand came up to stroke her hair and she sighed. This was so nice.
After a while the strokes became a bit more firm and were accompanied by little, soft caresses. Her skin began to tingle everywhere she was touched and a slow fire began to burn in her nether regions. As the caresses landed on her neck, she gasped as heat rolled through her. She moaned and moved, wanting more. A firm surface shifted into the v of her legs, granting her friction that she hadn’t been aware of needing. Her breathing hitched as the pleasure intensified. Oh, she writhed in the warm presence around her.
When the soft caresses found her lips, she gasped into the kiss, breaking the spell and waking herself up to the sight and feel of Potter in her arms and, dear Morgana’s tits, rubbing against and kissing her!
“MISS POTTER! WHAT IS THIS INSANITY?”
Potter shot straight up out of the bed, her legs tangling in the sheets and causing her to stumble in retreat. Her eyes were wide and panicked. “SIR! Uh, ma’am. I mean, Professor! -- ”
Severa jumped out of bed as well, on the opposite side from her. “I had expressly forbidden you from my bed. Why were you back in it?”
The girl trembled between fright and anger. “I-I don’t know! I went to sleep in my transfigured bed just like you wanted and then I woke up and I was --” She stopped abruptly, slapping a hand over her mouth in horrified realization of what their bodies had been doing.
“YOU WERE MOLESTING ME!” Severa screamed at her. She had never felt so undignified in her life. She was panting and still flushed with desire, wanting it more than she could have ever imagined, yet horrified and humiliated that it was with Potter. So she hid behind a mask of rage. “I should have you expelled! GET OUT!”
Potter’s own fury ignited. “I can’t! We still have the spell on us! And it’s not like I meant to touch you; I don’t even know how I got in your bed.”
“The same way anyone else does: by crawling into it UNANNOUNCED!”
“I DIDN’T MOLEST YOU! It was quite clear that we both wanted it!”
Silence reigned as that bit of truth sank into their brains. All the anger seemed to leave them as they stared into the dawning light. “Oh, dear Merlin, I … fancy … you,” whispered Potter, shocked. She clutched at her stomach as the horror struck her, and she sat down on her own make-shift bed, eyes falling to the floor.
Trembling with the effort not to hyperventilate, Severa just stood there staring at Potter, her student. Stood there in rage. Stood there and wanted. After agonizing minutes had passed, she had calmed her breathing enough to speak without shouting. “We are going back to sleep and I will fix this tomorrow.” Her voice was like steel, but her insides were shaking.
Potter nodded her head, for once quiet, and lay back down, turning away from her teacher. Severa spent long minutes just standing and staring and breathing before she, too, went back to bed. Neither of them fell back to sleep for a long time, and when they did, it was restless.
--
Severa woke the next morning with an ache deep within her. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was at first, but taking stock of her faculties, she came to the conclusion that it was nothing physical, or at least nothing real that dealt with bone and blood and muscle and tissue. No, this was more of an emotional hurt that manifested around her heart, her core. She yearned with the ache but had no idea why.
That changed when she arose and saw Potter curled up with her knees to her chest on her makeshift camp bed, looking a bit despondent. Deep down Severa felt the same, yearning for an end to loneliness. Oh, this was ridiculous. She shook her head to dispel those thoughts and, needing to use the facilities, she woke Potter up to start their day.
Breakfast was quiet. Neither of them had anywhere to be. As Potter settled into her desk to continue studying, an owl arrived with a package. “What’s that?” she asked, ever curious.
Severa gave her a stern look. “Ordinarily, I would tell you that it was none of your business what mail I receive, but in this case, this does involve you and our little problem. These are tomes on potion ingredient contraindications, some of the latest in research. I hope to find a lead.”
“I hope so, too,” muttered Potter with a sigh.
They spent the morning reading -- Severa the potions text and Potter her charms book -- and just before lunch Severa found the information she needed. “It seems the bog asphodel can invoke intense yearning or longing, similar in intensity to the death associated with the Greek asphodel. When mixed with wormwood, a powerful lust potion can be created, often with feelings of jealousy or envy. Congratulations, Potter, it looks like you were on your way to ensnaring some young thing into your bed, although good luck getting him past the gender-repelling spell on the girls’ dormitory.” She glanced over at Potter, surprised at the blush she saw there.
“Um … I don’t think I‘d have a problem with that.” She looked down in embarrassment.
“You’ve gotten past that spell work?” Severa asked with surprise. That was powerful magic, set hundreds of years ago to protect the female students. If any of them had learned to circumvent it, there could be horrible ramifications.
Potter rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t mean like that. I mean … well, it’s because ….”
“Spit it out, Potter.”
“Well, it’s just … I think I like girls better.” She looked uncomfortable saying it, but once the words were out of her mouth, she relaxed a little, as if a weight was taken off her shoulders. It also loosened her tongue. “I’ve been having more dreams about girls than boys, and they’re lots more squishy to hug, all warm and soft.” Potter had turned as red as her stripped Gryffindor tie. “And, uh, there was that ...” her eyes lifted to Severa’s for a second, “... moment last night.” She dropped her gaze back to the floor.
Severa stared at her in shock, not sure what to say. She cleared her throat instead. “Well, since you never completed the potion before we were splashed with it, the result wasn’t quite the lust-addled one described in these notes. However, it does cause us intense pain if we leave each other’s presence, so I need to create the antidote.”
Potter’s stomach rumbled. “Can we have lunch first?”
“Yes, that will be acceptable.”
They ate in companionable silence, Severa pondering over the maturing teenager in front of her. Lesbianism was not unknown in the Wizarding world, but it was looked down upon by pureblood society for the lack of children it would engender. If her parents had still been alive, would they have taken the news well that their only daughter would not be granting them grandchildren, or would they have been supportive and understanding? (Mind you, they probably would have had more children themselves and this point might be moot, and it isn’t as if Harriet would be able to carry the Potter name after a wedding anyway. But still.)
The afternoon ended up quite busy for both of them. A letter from Potter’s two friends came and she had to respond to them before they mounted a search-and-rescue party, and the rest of the time was taken up with slicing and dicing potions ingredients to help with the testing. Severa checked her experiments from last night and began testing their reactions, watching for signs of magical changes and effects. Based on the article she’d read earlier, there was a handful of ways to counteract the bog asphodel but only two of them would also work on the wormwood infusion, so she concentrated on those two methods. It still led to five possible variations.
“Are we going to have to try all five?” asked Potter with equal measures of worry and confusion. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
“Highly. That’s why we run a magical integrations check.”
Potter was now fully confused. “Integrations check, what’s that?”
Severa slammed her hand down on the table, causing Potter to jump. “Haven’t you read anything in your textbook or syllabus? And have you never wondered how new potions are created?”
Potter bit her lip. “Not really,” she muttered. She rubbed one foot back and forth along the floor in a nervous gesture that was oddly endearing and made Severa want to cuddle her in a hug.
UGH. Severa had to stopper her impulse and back away. This cure better do the trick. She was sure these odd feeling and notions were all the result of the accident. She couldn’t wait to get her normal life back, solitary as it was. And yet that thought didn’t settle as easily in her heart as it should have.
“If you had read either, you would know that we will be studying the creation of antidotes in a few weeks, and magical integration checks are how we determine the effectiveness of the antidotes. Observe!” Severa conjured five glass cylinders and levitated them over to a single cauldron she had set up on the opposite side of the room. “This is a copy of the potion in the stage you had it the other day.” Sure enough it was the same colour and consistency of the liquid that was spilled on them two days ago. Severa scooped out one portion into each of the five containers.
They walked back over to the test cures. “We set up a containment field in case of explosions or noxious fumes and then introduce our test batches. The correct answer, if one exists, will neutralize the original potion and the result will be water.”
Potter’s eyes went a little wide in surprised excitement. “Really? Cool.”
Severa wanted to bite her for her reaction, but she reined in her temper. It wouldn’t do to explode the substances all over the both of them and have to start this process all over again. She cast the field and then slowly added each test. The first two, made from method one, bubbled over, one in a bright pink mess and one in an olive green mess. “No luck there.” The other three, made from the second method, were less volatile. The first of those sloshed about and the two different potions ended up separated out, one sitting atop the other like oil on water. The second batch turned clear with just a hint of purple. And the third turned a ruddy brown.
“What does that say to you, Miss Potter?”
“You said the correct one would turn to water.” She pointed at the clear one. “That fourth test looks almost right, but water isn’t purple.”
Severa raised one eyebrow. “Correct. That one is closest, but it needs tweaking. Too much or too little of something. Now I’ll refine it.” She spent the rest of the time altering that potion to get it just right, while Potter went back to her own studies.
Just a little before supper, Severa straightened her back with a sigh. “I think it’s finished. Let’s test it, shall we?” She conjured another cylinder and placed more of Potter’s failed potion into it and then walked back over to the tests.
Potter marked her spot in the book and came over to her. “Do you think it’s perfected now?”
“That’s why it is called a test, Miss Potter. We’ll know in a minute.” She ladled out the newest test cure and placed it in the container after erecting the containment field. They watched as the two swirled together and became clear. Severa then ran a magical scan on the substance to determine its properties and sighed in relief at the results. “It’s water. The potion is perfected.”
“Great!” Potter said with happy excitement written all over her face. It made Severa want to sneer again at such unbridled joy over such a simple thing, and yet in her heart she wished she could own that feeling as well. “Do we just splash it over us like the original potion? Ugh, I don’t want to have to drink it.” The cure was a light green colour and about the consistency of phlegm; it looked disgusting.
“I’m afraid,” said Severa with distaste, “that we will have to drink it. One mouthful each.”
“Yuck. Okay, hand it to me,” she said with resignation. Potter was so used to downing every medicine handed to her that she wasn’t questioning if they really had to do this at all.
“You’re not going to ask after the risks?” Severa asked, both a little concerned at her unfailing trust in her teacher and a little bit annoyed that she still rushed into things without thinking them through first.
“Well, no. It doesn’t make any difference. I still have to drink it to get out of this mess, and we did the test so we know it works, and I know you wouldn’t outright poison me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever else is there, I’ll deal with as it comes.”
Severa frowned at this very different approach to life. Potter didn’t plan anything, which always annoyed her, given own sense of order and her control issues, and instead she just rolled with the punches, which Severa could never quite get a handle on and left her unsettled in her reactions. She much preferred plans and forward actions. Maybe that was why she hated teenagers. They were so unpredictable.
“Fine. Drink the antidote.” She measured out one mouthful for each of them and downed hers. It went down like slime and they both choked on it. A bubbling sensation flashed through their bodies, beginning at their stomachs and radiating outward. Before they even had time to worry about dying, the wave rippled out of them and they were left feeling clean and refreshed. “Now let’s see if it worked. Try to leave the classroom, Miss Potter.”
Still coughing, Potter went over to the classroom door with misgivings but, gathering her courage, she stepped over the doorsill. Nothing happened. No pain. No sense of urgency to get back together. Nothing. “It worked!”
“Yes, of course it worked. I’m a Potions mistress. This is my profession,” Severa said with smugness and pride. “Come collect your things and you may go. I still want that paper on why you should maintain your temper by the next class, and you still have detention tomorrow night to remake the Draught of Living Death correctly.”
Potter sighed in exasperation. “Yes, ma’am.” She walked into Severa’s quarters and grabbed her belongings before fleeing to the Great Hall to join her friends.
Severa told herself it wasn’t sadness that she was feeling at Potter’s departure, but she was unable to call it anything else.
--
Severa slept restlessly that night. Her dreams were filled with images of loss, of happiness just outside of her reach, just around the next corner but always gone again when she arrived. She woke to the stillness in her room, the quiet feeling unnerving and claustrophobic. She decided to prowl the halls to get out and calm her nerves. It was not her night to patrol, but she could still come across some romantically insipid teenagers. Instead she found Potter sitting in a windowsill almost asleep.
“That will be ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew. You possess a perfectly good tower window in which to perform woolgathering, Miss Potter. Why do you insist on doing that here?” It baffled her that the chit would rather walk around, get caught, and lose points than stay secure in her tower. She didn’t understand.
“I couldn’t sleep, and if I stayed in the tower, they would all get on my case about it. I hate the restriction. When I wander around, I feel free.”
“Be that as it may, the rules are in place for everyone’s protection. You are not above the rules!” Severa had no idea why she was trying to instruct Potter. This lesson never stuck.
“I just …” Potter sighed. “Look, I don’t leave the castle. Okay? I have my wand on me and I can hear people coming. I’m not defenceless, just restless.” She looked at Severa with pleading verdant eyes. “Please … I miss you.”
Severa was shocked. They should have been cured of the accidental potion making them feel lust, but she had to admit to having yearnings for the girl in front of her. She had never felt as good as she had in Potter’s arms, and the unfairness rankled her.
“I miss you and I wish we were back in your bed.” Potter’s visage was open, showing the truthfulness in her statements, a deep longing for affection that matched her own.
But they couldn’t act on that, no matter how much they both wanted it. “That is highly inappropriate and will not happen at this school. I suggest you return to your bed.”
A deep sadness came into those eyes along with resignation, yet determination and a steel resolve followed close on their heels, giving Severa great pause. “That doesn’t mean it can’t happen, ever. I only have a few months left until I’m legal and then just one more year of school. If you can wait that long, so can I.” Without waiting for a reply, Potter got off the windowsill and walked away, back to her tower.
Stunned, Severa didn’t shout or take more points or hand out another detention. Instead she saw the open possibilities before her and wondered “what if.” It would be a long wait, and of course there was no knowing what absurdities Potter would get up to in the meantime, but for once Severa didn’t see her as the obnoxious teenager. Somehow in all this mess, she had come to revise her opinion of Harriet Potter as a young lady worth getting to know.
And perhaps she’d offer to take her to get her eyesight fixed over the summer.
Severa smiled at the lightness suddenly filling her heart. Maybe that was an aftereffect of the potion. She would have to record it in her notes.
-The End-
--
snape_potter Snarry-a-thon 2015 fest.Title: Longings of the Heart
Author:
starduchessPairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~9200
Warnings: Chan (16)(but nothing really happens), potions accident, suggestive sexual themes, genderbending
Summary: As she reviewed her latest memories, Severa Snape thought she might have to revise her earlier assessment; this might very well be a potion-induced headache. Especially one that involved Harriet Potter.
A/N: Written as Femmeslash Snarry based on this art by ananovik, especially the bottom right corner. Thanks to my beta for the read through and the mods for hosting another awesome fest. I love both femmeslash and slash, and when I saw this prompt go up, I had to snatch it up and write it. Enjoy!
Severa Snape stalked back to her classroom, her dark eyes flashing in annoyance at the miscreants this establishment called students, when in truth they were little more than hooligans. Hardly a scrap of intelligence among them and even less talent. It was a waste of her own time spending day after day trying to stuff their hormone-addled brains with potions knowledge, most of which would be lost through under-usage, if it was retained at all. And then the rest of her precious time was taken up supervising detentions and prowling the halls for delinquents. At least she got to terrorize the little miscreants and take massive House points if and when she found any.
Tonight was another detention with her most loathsome student, the bane of her existence, Harriet Potter. The chit was fawned over by the entire school, staff and students alike, even though her only talents were in flying and getting into deadly adventures. If she wasn’t her best friend’s daughter, and if she wasn’t necessary for the downfall of the Dark Lord, Severa would have petitioned harder for the girl’s expulsion years ago.
In order to startle her rule-breaker, she burst open the classroom door, banging it on the wall. It gave her great satisfaction to watch Potter jump in surprise as she stormed into the room. “Miss Potter, it is gratifying to see that your cohorts haven’t kept you from detention. At least you’ve learned that much over the last six years.”
Potter shifted her robes around, fiddling in her nervousness. “Yes, ma’am.”
Severa sneered. “But you’ve still managed to learn zilch about potions. What was that monstrosity this afternoon?”
Eyes flashing with defiance, Potter stood straighter. “It was coming along fine until Parkinson blew fairy dust --”
“Don’t you dare blame your incompetence on my Slytherins! It’s your responsibility to properly prepare your ingredients, follow the instructions, and guard your cauldron. Since --”
“I shouldn’t have to ‘guard my cauldron!’ If they would just leave off --”
Severa slammed her hand down on the table, her black-nailed fingers drumming a soft rhythm that hinted at her growing ire. Lowering her voice, she said, “Did you just interrupt a teacher, Miss Potter?”
Potter knew the danger signs -- how could she not after six long years with the woman as her worst professor -- but she didn’t heed them. She let her frustration get to her again. “It’s just that you ignore what’s happening right in front of you, just because they are in your House! It’s completely unfair!”
Severa narrowed her eyes. “Life is unfair. There’s no use squabbling about it. As for your insolence, twenty points from Gryffindor and an extra hour scrubbing cauldrons tonight. First, though, you will remake the potion you were expected to produce today.” She paused a moment then narrowed her eyes further. “What are you waiting for? Get to work!”
Miss Potter snapped out of her haze and headed to the supply cabinet. Severa sat down at her desk and began to grade essays, ignoring the girl.
--
After forty-five minutes, long enough to reach the halfway point, Severa put down her marking, rose, and walked over to Potter’s station. She lifted an eyebrow upon inspecting the contents of the cauldron. It was light pink instead of intense deep purple. “What did you concoct this time, Miss Potter? This does not look like the Draught of Living Death.”
Potter looked anxiously down at her potion and back up again. “It ... uh, I followed the instructions. I made the base with salt water and bubotuber paste and let that simmer for ten minutes. Then I added the valerian root --”
“Cut how fine?”
“Little slivers, just like it says.” Her voice was getting snippy. She picked up one of the leftover pieces and presented it for inspection.
Severa took one glance at it, noting the proper size and shape, and then returned her stare to the vibrant green eyes. “Go on.”
Potter dropped the root and gestured to the next set of ingredients. “Then I powdered the wormwood and placed the crushed asphodel petals in the center and pressed for the infusion.”
Severa glanced again at the ingredients on the table, zeroing in on the petals. She bristled. “These petals are yellow, not off-white,” she hissed.
Potter flared with indignation. “What’s the difference? It was labeled asphodel!”
“You imbecile! This is bog asphodel from North America, not regular asphodel from Greece.”
Clenching her fists, she repeated her question. “Why should that make any difference? They’re both daffodils!”
Severa’s own ire was rising beyond her control, and she leant over the table in intimidation. “It matters because they have completely different magical properties.”
“Well, why don’t you tell us these things!” Potter shrieked at her, pounding her fists on the table. Unfortunately, she hit with such force as to rock her cauldron. A bit of the light-pink potion spilled out onto both of them. “Aaaagh!” she screamed.
Severa hissed as the hot liquid touched her flesh, just as she was reaching forward to stop the girl. “Potter, we need to call for --” But she couldn’t finish her statement, much less call for help or cast any life-saving spells, as both of them fell onto the floor, deep asleep.
--
Severa woke with a pounding headache. Long experience with magical, physical, and emotional ailments that caused such a condition let her know this was magically induced. There was no dehydration caused by strong drink nor any head stuffiness to indicate a sinus problem. There was no pounding heartbeat and no sweat leftover from a nightmare. Nothing else in her body ached, so she doubted she'd been in a fight or explosion. There was no strange smell nor any lingering aftertaste in her mouth, so potions were marked off the list. So that left a magical attack, which could have come from any quarter. She remained as still as possible, not just to keep her head from hurting, but also to keep from alerting a potential enemy that she was awake. She opened her senses and observed.
An answering groan came from beside her, and a body moved, attempting to get up. It managed to roll halfway over, groaning at the effort. "Ugh, Professor?" it moaned. The voice was gravelly, as though its owner, too, was just waking up. It continued moving, bumping its elbow into her abdomen. "Is that you?"
Severa inwardly sneered. Of course it’s me. It would be useful to know who you are. She then felt hands grasping at her, one hand brushing against her breast and sending a frisson of energy through her body. The sensation was so unfamiliar that she involuntarily gasped and shied away.
"Oh, sorry, Professor Snape! Are you okay? I was just trying to see if you were okay. It's rather dark in here, even with the sconces lit."
"Potter!" she admonished, for she had finally identified the voice of her companion. "Stop rambling!"
"Oh! Sorry."
With care Severa opened her eyes a crack and looked around. She and Potter were lying on the ground half under a work table. Above them on other tables were stacked cauldrons and empty vials and, turning her head to the right, she could make out a corner of her desk, so they were still in the potions laboratory. As she reviewed her latest memories, she thought she might have to revise her earlier assessment; this might very well be a potion-induced headache.
She turned and glared at her least favourite student. "Your incompetence, Potter, knows no bounds. Clean up the mess that I'm sure is above us and then return to your dorm. I want a two-foot essay by tomorrow's detention on why you shouldn't lose your temper and become physical around potion ingredients. Now, leave!"
With great care, she picked herself up off the floor and better surveyed the classroom. Things were in less a state of disarray than she'd expected, with the exception of Potter's workspace that had the failed potion all over it. She grimaced at the waste. Students had no appreciation for the craft, the delicate care of the materials, the precision necessary for art to become form. Her mood foul, she walked over to her chair and gingerly sat down, her head still pounding.
Potter picked up her space, cleaned the cauldron and the utensils, and mopped up the table and floor. Severa watched the young woman work and noticed how efficient she was. And then she huffed at herself. Of course Potter was good at cleaning. She'd had a detention with Severa at least once a month for her entire school career, and Severa would not let her get away with shabby cleaning methods. Still, she found herself enjoying watching the movements of Potter's arms and fingers, legs and torso. She wasn't fluid like a dancer, but her actions were sure and steady.
When Potter was finished, she stood before Severa's desk, awaiting dismissal. Again, at least, something had become habit.
"I told you to leave as soon as you were finished," she said, narrowing her eyes, which made her head pound. She needed medication, but first she had to get rid of Potter. "Go!"
Potter collected her things and walked toward the classroom door. She opened it and stepped outside, only for both of them to cry out loud as pain shot through them, right to their cores. Potter instinctively stepped back into the classroom and the pain subsided.
Severa was panting and casting thoughts around her own head as to what was happening. Was it something in that potion or something else unrelated? She would need to investigate. "Potter, walk over here." Potter obeyed her, coming to stand on the other side of her desk. Nothing, no twinges of pain or other feeling. "Now, go step out the door again, carefully." She obeyed again, an unusual feat that Severa had not the chance to savour as the pain hit again. Potter stepped back inside and the pain abated. Severa got up and came over to the door. "Try it again."
"Are you serious? I just did that twice!"
"Yes, and I was ten meters away each time. Let us see if it still happens when I'm two feet from you." Severa gave her a no-nonsense, you-better-go-along-with-my-advice stare.
Potter huffed in annoyance and walked over the threshold. The pain shot through both of them again. She half skipped, half stumbled back into the classroom. "Oh, gosh, this is so not fun."
"We should try to go together. I wish to ascertain the extent of our dilemma."
Looking doubtful, Potter agreed. "Okay, on three? One, two, ...." On three they both stepped through the doorway. Nothing happened. Good. Severa nodded at her to go away, turned, and began to walk back to her own rooms, hoping they had broken whatever spell had encased them in the classroom. When they got about fifty meters apart, however, the pain hit them again, and they both groaned out. It faded as they stepped back toward each other.
"Lovely, Potter. It appears we have to be within fifty meters of each other in the same room. It will take some time for me to figure out what you've done and research a counter potion. In the meantime, you will do exactly as you're told, and we need to inform the headmaster right away. Come with me." Severa walked past her and continued up and out of the dungeons. Potter had to race to keep up with her long legs.
--
“Well,” said Headmaster Dumbledore, “this is an interesting situation, my dears. How much time do you think it will take to research, Professor Snape?”
Feeling unusually upset, she glowered at him. “Depending, I could find the solution tomorrow or it could take up to a week. Far too long, in either case.”
“There’s nothing for it, then. Miss Potter will have to stay with you tonight and the days to come. I’ll hold off your classes until then, and Miss Potter can study while you are working.” He gave them a small smile and a nod, twinkling furiously at their matching wide-eyed looks of shock. Clearly, they had not followed the logical progression of consequences to the point of sleeping arrangements, although Severa would have gotten there soon enough.
Dammit, she didn’t want this. Potter in close proximity. Potter in her domicile! “Headmaster, you can’t be serious. It would be completely inappropriate for a student to inhabit a teacher’s rooms.”
Dumbledore just stared at her with calm. “So should you, a teacher, invade her dormitory? Sleep alongside the other Gryffindor girls? At least, you are all female.”
Severa bristled at that. Not to the all-female part, no -- in fact, she had a strange sensation inside her that claimed it was not a bad idea -- it was to the Gryffindor and sleeping-with-other-students parts that had her in an uproar. “Absolutely not!”
“Ah, then, you don’t mind your rooms,” Albus said in his irritating manner.
“No, there has to be another solution.” Severa stumbled around in her thoughts for places to go. “The teachers’ lounge, the infirmary, your office, an abandoned classroom -- really any public space. I would suggest the library, but between Madam Pince’s possessiveness and the fear that Miss Potter might absorb too much knowledge through osmosis and have her head explode in the middle of the night, ruining all of the books, well, I hesitate to put that forth.”
“Hey!” said Potter from beside her, the first she’d spoken since entering the office. “I’m not unknowledgeable, and I do fine in my other classes, just not yours!”
The anger coming from her hit Severa in the gut. She hated that the celebrity would think so little of her class as to not put forth the effort in learning the delicate art of potion brewing and, more, her pride hurt that the students would downplay her chosen field and mock its importance. It even made her feel like a second-rate witch playing at sorcery, as if she was some Muggle fairy-tale horror. She clenched her hands into fists, her long nails biting into her flesh. “If you took the subject seriously ….”
“Patience, both of you,” Dumbledore said, holding up his hands to placate them. “This constant animosity is not helping the situation. I suggest you take it easy for the rest of the evening and the next few days. You both need sleep and that is best done in your quarters, Severa. I will overlook the school’s regulations for now as this is a special matter. Now, off you go.” And he escorted them out of his office.
At the top of the revolving staircase, Severa and Potter stared at each other in disbelief. She could practically see each thought flit past Potter’s eyes even if she hadn’t picked them up from the surface of Potter’s mind via Legilimency: anger, humiliation, unfairness, resentment, resignation, despair, loneliness, yearning, lust, embarrassment … wait, lust? She must be thinking of a fellow student, maybe even a rendezvous with a suitor planned for after detention which she would now miss. It was one more thing Severa resented about their perfect saviour -- all the dates and attention she must receive for being the Girl Who Lived. It gave her great satisfaction in knowing that Miss Potter’s plans were now ruined for the night.
“Come on, Potter. Let’s get this absurdity over with.” She turned and trudged down the stairs, knowing the girl would follow. All the way back to her quarters, she was wondering about Potter’s affections.
--
Entering her rooms, she looked around at the space. Everything was still as clean and tidy as she had left it. Her mother had taught her how to keep a room, at least, even though her father cared not a lick for it, always leaving the house a mess, and Severa was determined not to be like him. “You may put your book bag there in that corner, Miss Potter, and revise at the table there. Bedtime is in one hour.”
She started to walk away to the door to her office but was stopped when Potter spoke. “But I didn’t bring anything else with me to detention.”
Severa was quite irritated by now. “If you don’t have the presence of mind to carry your school work with you, then I pity the employers who will govern you in the future. Surely, you brought your Potions notes to a Potions detention, so you may at least work on that.”
“I did, but I have a History of Magic essay due tomorrow!” she said with a whine in her voice that grated on Severa’s already frayed nerves. Oh, how she hated whiny children.
Her eyes flashed dangerously as she hissed, “That is of no concern to me. We will attend to your things in the morning while the rest of the school is at breakfast, and then you may have all day to work on your other assignments, as I’m not about to journey with you to your other classes and, indeed, need to be here developing a solution to our little problem. Understood?”
Potter backed down a tad. “Yes, ma’am.”
Severa nodded and went to her office doorway. She didn’t step through, knowing the spell would activate and hurt them for crossing the boundary, so she simply summoned her grading. She sat in a high-backed chair, quill and red ink pot beside her, and began marking, trying to ignore the girl who was invading her precious solitude. Nothing was sacred anymore.
She noticed that Potter didn’t move at all for the first fifteen minutes, just stared at her mutely, as she sploshed red marks all over the students’ parchments. She could feel those green eyes upon her, watching her, and it was worse than any meeting she’d had with Dumbledore. Finally, Potter relented and sat down at the table, taking out her Potions text and reading it.
Silence descended upon them, and Severa was surprised to find it comfortable. She lost herself in the grading and time flew. She found herself growing sleepy and knew it was time for bed. Setting the parchments aside, she rose from her chair and scowled at Potter asleep at the table, her head resting on an arm, drool threatening to drench the book.
“Potter,” she barked, watching with amusement as she jumped awake. “Tidy your things. I will have the shower first while you attend to your other nightly ablutions, and then we can switch.”
With a yawn, Potter rubbed her eyes under her ridiculous spectacles. “Okay, Professor.” She packed up her things and left them in the corner, and then she squeezed with Severa through the doorway into the bedroom. They were so close that Severa could smell the broom polish still lingering on her clothes, probably from Quidditch practice earlier in the day. It was earthy, a very homey smell.
Severa sniffed at herself next, grimacing at the foul stench clinging to her own robes from their accident earlier, not to mention all the other noxious fumes that she was exposed to every day. She enjoyed her work and found it fascinating how the different ingredients came together in a most pleasing manner, but she did acknowledge that those odours, while acceptable within the laboratory, were not tolerated in polite company. Good thing there was no polite company here, she thought. Including the present company.
They managed another tight squeeze into the bathroom, and Severa made quick work of disrobing. She wasn’t really body conscious, although she knew she wasn’t much to look at -- too skinny, extremely pale complexion, big nose, small breasts (though it looked like Potter had her beat in that department -- the girl was barely an A cup). She had lived in the Slytherin dorms with other girls during her own school days, so she remembered sharing living quarters. It felt odd having another person in her own personal space, however, after two decades of being alone.
She didn’t look at Potter as she stepped into the shower and ran the water. She lathered up and scrubbed down, giving a perfunctory once-over to her body, only concentrating on her hands and wrists where the potion had splashed onto her. She rinsed off and then turned around to wet her hair, closing her eyes for a second to enjoy the warmth.
When she opened her eyes, it was to find Potter staring directly at her. “Potter! Eyes away!” Heat rose in her face from embarrassment even as she watched the girl squeak, jump, and turn around so fast that she would have created a small cyclone if they’d been outside in the rain.
“Sorry!” Potter grabbed for her toiletry kit and pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of it. As she hastily began brushing, Severa returned to her own cleaning, lathering a small amount of the bar soap into her hair, as she had done for years since her childhood, when money and necessities had been scarce. It didn’t do much except to erase the top coat of chemicals and it certainly didn’t eliminate the oil from her hair, but that was fine by her.
As she summoned a towel after rinsing, her eyes met Potter’s again, this time reflected in the bathroom mirror. Still irritated about this intrusion into her private life, she sneered. “Not all of us can be beauty winners, Miss Potter.” She dried off while stepping out of the shower, the magical towel banishing the water as it touched her.
Potter still hadn’t spoken as Severa finished drying in the small space, and she was rapidly losing patience. Making eye contact again, she jerked her head in the direction of the shower. “Hurry up.”
She watched in supervisor fashion as Potter put away her things and disrobed. The girl really was a late bloomer, all awkward angles and no real curves to speak of. She felt guilty, though, at Potter’s scars, evidence that she had not protected her well enough here at school. She stepped away from those thoughts and went through her own bedtime routine.
After Potter had dried off and they had both slipped on nightclothes, they squeezed back into the bedroom. Severa was even more aware of the closeness of their bodies, and she swallowed. What was wrong with her? Maybe she was just tired from the day and the potions accident. Nothing for it but sleep. She slipped into her bed, said “Nox” to turn off the lights, and closed her eyes.
And then promptly opened them again as she felt the bed dip. “Potter! What are you doing?”
“Sharing the bed.” She couldn’t see Potter, but she could hear the obstinacy in her voice.
“And what, pray tell, gave you the impression that I would be offering my bed to you?” Her own voice was low and dangerous and dripping with annoyance.
“Well, we have to be together, there’s only one bed, and I’m not sleeping on the floor!” Severa felt her shift the rest of the way onto the bed and pout.
“Are you or are you not a witch, Potter? Have you forgotten all your lessons? Conjure or transfigure your own bed!” She was yelling by the end. Really, this was too much to put up with.
“Fine,” huffed Potter. She got back out of the bed, summoned her wand and a chair from the living room, and transfigured it into a bed. Not a very good bed. Even in the dim light Severa could see that it was lumpy and leant a bit toward one corner that was shorter than the others. Served Potter right for messing up her potion and getting them both into this ridiculous situation.
Severa turned away and closed her eyes again. She listened as the girl lay down on her makeshift camp bed, it squeaking and she muttering. Soon the place was quiet again, and just as soon after that they were both asleep.
--
Severa was having a good dream. She was warm and cozy within the arms of someone firm and muscular. The proportions seemed skewed, but she didn’t mind as the skin was warm and smooth and the scent was clean and woodsy. She reveled in it and snuggled further into the lovely embrace.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” came a voice in her ear. She had to agree. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this peaceful and relaxed. She hummed a little in reply, letting her thumb trace circles on the smooth skin.
An emboldened hand caressed up and down her spine, and she sighed in contentment, falling back asleep.
--
“Potter! What the devil are you doing in my bed?” Severa screeched in the morning when she awoke to find the two of them entwined together. She pushed the girl away from her and quickly arose. Glancing around the room, she saw that the makeshift cot was still in existence, just that Potter wasn’t in it.
Sputtering and looking aghast, she said, “I’m sorry, Professor! I went to bed there and woke up here!”
“And in what universe do you think such actions are appropriate?” Severa wanted to yell and take House points immediately.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t do it! Not that you ever believe me.” She stood there in her pajamas looking frustrated and petulant.
“Don’t give me your cheek, Miss Potter. You clearly climbed into bed with me. Perhaps if you worked on your transfiguration skills instead of foolish things like Quidditch, you wouldn’t have needed to use me as a pillow! Now, get dressed.” She stormed over to the wardrobe and snatched out clean clothes for the day. Turning her back to the girl, she dressed, feeling more self-conscious than she had in a long time, and then waited for Potter to summon her own outfit and dress.
Together they left the bedroom and sat down at a small table in Severa’s kitchenette. Tea and coffee appeared on the table.
Potter looked at her in confusion. “Aren’t we going to the Great Hall for breakfast? Won’t people be suspicious if we don’t?”
Severa gave her a look that said she was an idiot. “People will be suspicious when you don’t show up for classes today. Some may already be, since you never returned to your dormitory after detention yesterday. There is no need to create even more suspicion by having us show up together and leave together. Besides, we need to get your things from the tower and while everyone is at breakfast is the perfect opportunity to do so. I mentioned that yesterday. Were you not listening?” Her voice was low again with displeasure in having to repeat herself.
“Oh, right. You did.” Potter had clearly forgotten. “Can we eat now, then?”
Severa nodded and tapped the table with her wand. Food -- rashers with eggs, toast and marmalade -- as well as pumpkin juice appeared, and the two of them dug into a quiet breakfast. It was surprisingly relaxing, not having to put up with the gossip from the other teachers and not getting a headache from the chatter of students. Potter, thankfully, didn’t say anything, as she was too busy stuffing her face.
Afterward, they left her quarters and went up to Gryffindor tower. As expected, no one else was in the Common Room or the dorms, so they made quick work of getting Potter’s things and returning to the dungeons. Severa began to research all the ingredients used in the botched potion, and Potter went to study at one of the desks. Again a companionable silence filled the air between them and they both got lost in what they were doing. Severa looked up from her work when her stomach growled, frowning at the lack of conclusions she had reached. She was amazed that it was lunchtime without a word or distraction from Potter, who appeared to be studious for once. “We will break for lunch.”
Potter blinked up at her with owl eyes, and Severa gritted her teeth against the awful look of those spectacles. They distorted her features and made her look geeky, similar enough to Trelawny that it caused a shiver to run down Severa’s spine. Why hadn’t anyone offered to fix her eyesight? A magical procedure had been developed by a team of medi-wizards in America a few years ago. Had no one thought to ask for their advice or to bring one over the pond for a consultation? Severa wondered if she’d be prettier if the glasses were removed, and then she shook herself for such thoughts.
“Stop staring. Leave your books and we’ll adjoin to my quarters.” Potter closed her books and followed Severa back to the table at which they’d shared breakfast and sat down for lunch. Unlike at breakfast, she knew she couldn’t evade conversation forever.
“Have you found out anything about the potion?” Potter asked with open curiosity and a pinch of anxiety.
Severa took a swallow of her tea before answering. “Not much. You had added the valerian root, so that was the cause of our unconsciousness, but you hadn’t yet gotten to the sopophorous beans, which induces the coma-like sleep in the correct version of the Draught of Living Death. Be very glad you had not or neither of us might be awake or even alive right now.”
Potter lowered her eyes in contrite thought. “You said the bog asphodel was different.”
“Yes. I’m still not sure what the ramifications are for that change in the potion, for which I need to send off a letter to a colleague after lunch, but I am certain it does not make for death.”
“Well, that’s good, right?” she said with hope in her eyes and a lightness in her face.
Severa stared at her for her incomprehension. “Good? Not so much if the result is that you turn into a skrewt or you can no longer eat anything but flobberworms or if it causes you unending nightmares. You might wish for death, then.”
Instead of being upset at these words, Potter looked more cheery. “I’m not a skrewt, I can eat just fine, and I’ve always had nightmares, so that’s nothing new. Nope, it doesn’t look like the potion’s messed up anything.”
Severa slammed her fork down. “Except that we can’t leave each other’s company.”
Potter’s eyes widened again. “Oh, right.”
“Eat your lunch, so that I may get back to the task at hand of removing said effect from us.” She produced her most stern visage.
Potter didn’t even look fazed by it, but she did hurry up and finish her food.
--
The two traveled up to the owlery right after eating, Severa with her letter of inquiry and Potter with her lost thoughts. As she tied the letter to a generic school owl’s leg, she watched Potter pet her own snowy owl, talking quietly to it, features softening into a sort of content sadness, which didn’t make much sense. She discarded that thought and turned back to the post owl.
They spent the rest of the afternoon working. Severa only had to scold her once for practising her charms work near the simmering cauldrons full of tests. They broke for dinner just as they had for lunch, Potter starting the conversation again.
“Did you find out anything new this afternoon?” she asked as they ate soup.
“Not particularly. I have several test batches brewing and will check the results in the morning. It became apparent that, at least, the bog asphodel is less potent than its Greek counterpart.”
Thinking, Potter was silent for a moment. “So we could be slowly dying instead of quick dying.”
“Idiot, there is no slowing of the potion. The strength means that whatever the bog asphodel is doing, it’s doing it with less fervor. Lower intensity. More subtle.”
“So it could still be quite dangerous?”
Severa nodded at her.
“Okay, can I ask you about an astronomy question?” It was an obvious change of subject.
“Yes, you may,” she said, letting the matter drop. She would let Potter stew in her thoughts about the possible death or dismemberment she had caused. In the meantime she’d talk about schoolwork. She mentally braced herself for Potter’s stupidity and inane babbling, so she was taken aback at Potter’s astute questioning. The girl knew her basics in Astronomy, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures, was a bit behind in Transfiguration, and was woefully under-informed about History and Arithmancy, not to mention Potions. Severa found herself discussing multiple topics at length through dinner and enjoying it. Oh, Potter still said naive things that Severa berated her for and their discussion on Transfiguration became heated at one point, but overall it was a comfortable meal.
They were eating an egg custard with caramel drizzle when Severa put forth her own question. “Why have you never obtained different glasses? Those look repugnant on you.”
Potter sat up straight in shock, spoon laden with dessert halfway to her mouth. She collected herself a moment later, lowering the spoon back to her plate. “My aunt is a bit … frugal, so if these work, then I don’t need a new pair.”
“And you haven’t bothered to ask an opti-wizard for other options?” There wasn’t the disgust in her voice that she thought there should be. She frowned at herself and wondered why she cared.
Potter, though, just shrugged. “I didn’t know they existed; no one’s ever said anything or taken me. Besides, the other options are probably more expensive. I don’t think my aunt would go for it.”
“But you have plenty of money in the Potter fortune,” Severa said with confusion. She had also noticed the scant supply of clothes in Potter’s trunk, and signs weren’t adding up.
“Oh, I have some in my fund, yeah, but I have to make sure that covers tuition, books, potion supplies, clothes, and school robes for each year.” She said this as if it should be evident to any bystander.
“Surely, that is not all the Potter funds; you must have a trust fund set up. Perhaps you will have access to it when you come of age. It’s something about which you should ask the goblins.” Severa studied her for a quiet moment as she finished her dessert. Then, she said, “But doesn’t your aunt provide you with clothes and essentials?”
Surprising her, Potter gave a disgusted snort. “Yeah, a few items, and she complains about how much she has to spend on me and why can’t I just use Dudley’s old spares, like I want to run around in his filthy boxing shorts. Eww.” She gave a ruffle of her nose as if she smelled something awful and shivered in revulsion.
Severa had no retort for that. It almost sounded like Potter was treated like a second-class citizen, but that couldn’t be. “Certainly, your uncle would not approve.”
Potter actually laughed at that. “Yeah, he most definitely didn’t approve of anything that had to do with me. The less others saw of me, no matter what I was wearing, the better, and, thus, it didn’t matter what I was wearing. And it doesn’t, not while I’m at school with robes, anyway.”
Severa was quite irritated at this now and decided to end the conversation. “Be that as it may, you could at least make an inquiry to the opti-wizards.”
Sighing, Potter said, “Fine.”
“Let’s stay in for the evening. If you have any further reading, you should do that. Dumbledore will be dropping off my students’ assignments for grading soon, and I will need to work on that tonight.”
“Don’t you ever have time off?” Potter asked with incredulity.
“I’m teaching seven years of brats, which amounts to nearly four hundred essays and quizzes every week, so the answer is no. Teachers don’t have time off.” She swiped her wand over the table, clearing the dirty plates back to the Hogwarts kitchens and walked over to answer her door as a knock sounded that turned out to be the expected Headmaster with her paperwork.
No further conversation was on offer that evening.
--
They went to bed the same as before, awkwardness in the bathroom and all. Potter reconfigured her bed and now it sat even with the floor. Severa gave her a look that told her she better stay in her bed this time. Potter nodded in full agreement and lay down on it with a quick, “Night, Professor.” The lights went out and they were both asleep in minutes.
Severa had another wonderful dream, this one even better than the last. She was held in small but strong arms that were massaging the kinks out of her back. She moaned into the sensations, tension easing out of her and making her feel languid. One hand came up to stroke her hair and she sighed. This was so nice.
After a while the strokes became a bit more firm and were accompanied by little, soft caresses. Her skin began to tingle everywhere she was touched and a slow fire began to burn in her nether regions. As the caresses landed on her neck, she gasped as heat rolled through her. She moaned and moved, wanting more. A firm surface shifted into the v of her legs, granting her friction that she hadn’t been aware of needing. Her breathing hitched as the pleasure intensified. Oh, she writhed in the warm presence around her.
When the soft caresses found her lips, she gasped into the kiss, breaking the spell and waking herself up to the sight and feel of Potter in her arms and, dear Morgana’s tits, rubbing against and kissing her!
“MISS POTTER! WHAT IS THIS INSANITY?”
Potter shot straight up out of the bed, her legs tangling in the sheets and causing her to stumble in retreat. Her eyes were wide and panicked. “SIR! Uh, ma’am. I mean, Professor! -- ”
Severa jumped out of bed as well, on the opposite side from her. “I had expressly forbidden you from my bed. Why were you back in it?”
The girl trembled between fright and anger. “I-I don’t know! I went to sleep in my transfigured bed just like you wanted and then I woke up and I was --” She stopped abruptly, slapping a hand over her mouth in horrified realization of what their bodies had been doing.
“YOU WERE MOLESTING ME!” Severa screamed at her. She had never felt so undignified in her life. She was panting and still flushed with desire, wanting it more than she could have ever imagined, yet horrified and humiliated that it was with Potter. So she hid behind a mask of rage. “I should have you expelled! GET OUT!”
Potter’s own fury ignited. “I can’t! We still have the spell on us! And it’s not like I meant to touch you; I don’t even know how I got in your bed.”
“The same way anyone else does: by crawling into it UNANNOUNCED!”
“I DIDN’T MOLEST YOU! It was quite clear that we both wanted it!”
Silence reigned as that bit of truth sank into their brains. All the anger seemed to leave them as they stared into the dawning light. “Oh, dear Merlin, I … fancy … you,” whispered Potter, shocked. She clutched at her stomach as the horror struck her, and she sat down on her own make-shift bed, eyes falling to the floor.
Trembling with the effort not to hyperventilate, Severa just stood there staring at Potter, her student. Stood there in rage. Stood there and wanted. After agonizing minutes had passed, she had calmed her breathing enough to speak without shouting. “We are going back to sleep and I will fix this tomorrow.” Her voice was like steel, but her insides were shaking.
Potter nodded her head, for once quiet, and lay back down, turning away from her teacher. Severa spent long minutes just standing and staring and breathing before she, too, went back to bed. Neither of them fell back to sleep for a long time, and when they did, it was restless.
--
Severa woke the next morning with an ache deep within her. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was at first, but taking stock of her faculties, she came to the conclusion that it was nothing physical, or at least nothing real that dealt with bone and blood and muscle and tissue. No, this was more of an emotional hurt that manifested around her heart, her core. She yearned with the ache but had no idea why.
That changed when she arose and saw Potter curled up with her knees to her chest on her makeshift camp bed, looking a bit despondent. Deep down Severa felt the same, yearning for an end to loneliness. Oh, this was ridiculous. She shook her head to dispel those thoughts and, needing to use the facilities, she woke Potter up to start their day.
Breakfast was quiet. Neither of them had anywhere to be. As Potter settled into her desk to continue studying, an owl arrived with a package. “What’s that?” she asked, ever curious.
Severa gave her a stern look. “Ordinarily, I would tell you that it was none of your business what mail I receive, but in this case, this does involve you and our little problem. These are tomes on potion ingredient contraindications, some of the latest in research. I hope to find a lead.”
“I hope so, too,” muttered Potter with a sigh.
They spent the morning reading -- Severa the potions text and Potter her charms book -- and just before lunch Severa found the information she needed. “It seems the bog asphodel can invoke intense yearning or longing, similar in intensity to the death associated with the Greek asphodel. When mixed with wormwood, a powerful lust potion can be created, often with feelings of jealousy or envy. Congratulations, Potter, it looks like you were on your way to ensnaring some young thing into your bed, although good luck getting him past the gender-repelling spell on the girls’ dormitory.” She glanced over at Potter, surprised at the blush she saw there.
“Um … I don’t think I‘d have a problem with that.” She looked down in embarrassment.
“You’ve gotten past that spell work?” Severa asked with surprise. That was powerful magic, set hundreds of years ago to protect the female students. If any of them had learned to circumvent it, there could be horrible ramifications.
Potter rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t mean like that. I mean … well, it’s because ….”
“Spit it out, Potter.”
“Well, it’s just … I think I like girls better.” She looked uncomfortable saying it, but once the words were out of her mouth, she relaxed a little, as if a weight was taken off her shoulders. It also loosened her tongue. “I’ve been having more dreams about girls than boys, and they’re lots more squishy to hug, all warm and soft.” Potter had turned as red as her stripped Gryffindor tie. “And, uh, there was that ...” her eyes lifted to Severa’s for a second, “... moment last night.” She dropped her gaze back to the floor.
Severa stared at her in shock, not sure what to say. She cleared her throat instead. “Well, since you never completed the potion before we were splashed with it, the result wasn’t quite the lust-addled one described in these notes. However, it does cause us intense pain if we leave each other’s presence, so I need to create the antidote.”
Potter’s stomach rumbled. “Can we have lunch first?”
“Yes, that will be acceptable.”
They ate in companionable silence, Severa pondering over the maturing teenager in front of her. Lesbianism was not unknown in the Wizarding world, but it was looked down upon by pureblood society for the lack of children it would engender. If her parents had still been alive, would they have taken the news well that their only daughter would not be granting them grandchildren, or would they have been supportive and understanding? (Mind you, they probably would have had more children themselves and this point might be moot, and it isn’t as if Harriet would be able to carry the Potter name after a wedding anyway. But still.)
The afternoon ended up quite busy for both of them. A letter from Potter’s two friends came and she had to respond to them before they mounted a search-and-rescue party, and the rest of the time was taken up with slicing and dicing potions ingredients to help with the testing. Severa checked her experiments from last night and began testing their reactions, watching for signs of magical changes and effects. Based on the article she’d read earlier, there was a handful of ways to counteract the bog asphodel but only two of them would also work on the wormwood infusion, so she concentrated on those two methods. It still led to five possible variations.
“Are we going to have to try all five?” asked Potter with equal measures of worry and confusion. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
“Highly. That’s why we run a magical integrations check.”
Potter was now fully confused. “Integrations check, what’s that?”
Severa slammed her hand down on the table, causing Potter to jump. “Haven’t you read anything in your textbook or syllabus? And have you never wondered how new potions are created?”
Potter bit her lip. “Not really,” she muttered. She rubbed one foot back and forth along the floor in a nervous gesture that was oddly endearing and made Severa want to cuddle her in a hug.
UGH. Severa had to stopper her impulse and back away. This cure better do the trick. She was sure these odd feeling and notions were all the result of the accident. She couldn’t wait to get her normal life back, solitary as it was. And yet that thought didn’t settle as easily in her heart as it should have.
“If you had read either, you would know that we will be studying the creation of antidotes in a few weeks, and magical integration checks are how we determine the effectiveness of the antidotes. Observe!” Severa conjured five glass cylinders and levitated them over to a single cauldron she had set up on the opposite side of the room. “This is a copy of the potion in the stage you had it the other day.” Sure enough it was the same colour and consistency of the liquid that was spilled on them two days ago. Severa scooped out one portion into each of the five containers.
They walked back over to the test cures. “We set up a containment field in case of explosions or noxious fumes and then introduce our test batches. The correct answer, if one exists, will neutralize the original potion and the result will be water.”
Potter’s eyes went a little wide in surprised excitement. “Really? Cool.”
Severa wanted to bite her for her reaction, but she reined in her temper. It wouldn’t do to explode the substances all over the both of them and have to start this process all over again. She cast the field and then slowly added each test. The first two, made from method one, bubbled over, one in a bright pink mess and one in an olive green mess. “No luck there.” The other three, made from the second method, were less volatile. The first of those sloshed about and the two different potions ended up separated out, one sitting atop the other like oil on water. The second batch turned clear with just a hint of purple. And the third turned a ruddy brown.
“What does that say to you, Miss Potter?”
“You said the correct one would turn to water.” She pointed at the clear one. “That fourth test looks almost right, but water isn’t purple.”
Severa raised one eyebrow. “Correct. That one is closest, but it needs tweaking. Too much or too little of something. Now I’ll refine it.” She spent the rest of the time altering that potion to get it just right, while Potter went back to her own studies.
Just a little before supper, Severa straightened her back with a sigh. “I think it’s finished. Let’s test it, shall we?” She conjured another cylinder and placed more of Potter’s failed potion into it and then walked back over to the tests.
Potter marked her spot in the book and came over to her. “Do you think it’s perfected now?”
“That’s why it is called a test, Miss Potter. We’ll know in a minute.” She ladled out the newest test cure and placed it in the container after erecting the containment field. They watched as the two swirled together and became clear. Severa then ran a magical scan on the substance to determine its properties and sighed in relief at the results. “It’s water. The potion is perfected.”
“Great!” Potter said with happy excitement written all over her face. It made Severa want to sneer again at such unbridled joy over such a simple thing, and yet in her heart she wished she could own that feeling as well. “Do we just splash it over us like the original potion? Ugh, I don’t want to have to drink it.” The cure was a light green colour and about the consistency of phlegm; it looked disgusting.
“I’m afraid,” said Severa with distaste, “that we will have to drink it. One mouthful each.”
“Yuck. Okay, hand it to me,” she said with resignation. Potter was so used to downing every medicine handed to her that she wasn’t questioning if they really had to do this at all.
“You’re not going to ask after the risks?” Severa asked, both a little concerned at her unfailing trust in her teacher and a little bit annoyed that she still rushed into things without thinking them through first.
“Well, no. It doesn’t make any difference. I still have to drink it to get out of this mess, and we did the test so we know it works, and I know you wouldn’t outright poison me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever else is there, I’ll deal with as it comes.”
Severa frowned at this very different approach to life. Potter didn’t plan anything, which always annoyed her, given own sense of order and her control issues, and instead she just rolled with the punches, which Severa could never quite get a handle on and left her unsettled in her reactions. She much preferred plans and forward actions. Maybe that was why she hated teenagers. They were so unpredictable.
“Fine. Drink the antidote.” She measured out one mouthful for each of them and downed hers. It went down like slime and they both choked on it. A bubbling sensation flashed through their bodies, beginning at their stomachs and radiating outward. Before they even had time to worry about dying, the wave rippled out of them and they were left feeling clean and refreshed. “Now let’s see if it worked. Try to leave the classroom, Miss Potter.”
Still coughing, Potter went over to the classroom door with misgivings but, gathering her courage, she stepped over the doorsill. Nothing happened. No pain. No sense of urgency to get back together. Nothing. “It worked!”
“Yes, of course it worked. I’m a Potions mistress. This is my profession,” Severa said with smugness and pride. “Come collect your things and you may go. I still want that paper on why you should maintain your temper by the next class, and you still have detention tomorrow night to remake the Draught of Living Death correctly.”
Potter sighed in exasperation. “Yes, ma’am.” She walked into Severa’s quarters and grabbed her belongings before fleeing to the Great Hall to join her friends.
Severa told herself it wasn’t sadness that she was feeling at Potter’s departure, but she was unable to call it anything else.
--
Severa slept restlessly that night. Her dreams were filled with images of loss, of happiness just outside of her reach, just around the next corner but always gone again when she arrived. She woke to the stillness in her room, the quiet feeling unnerving and claustrophobic. She decided to prowl the halls to get out and calm her nerves. It was not her night to patrol, but she could still come across some romantically insipid teenagers. Instead she found Potter sitting in a windowsill almost asleep.
“That will be ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew. You possess a perfectly good tower window in which to perform woolgathering, Miss Potter. Why do you insist on doing that here?” It baffled her that the chit would rather walk around, get caught, and lose points than stay secure in her tower. She didn’t understand.
“I couldn’t sleep, and if I stayed in the tower, they would all get on my case about it. I hate the restriction. When I wander around, I feel free.”
“Be that as it may, the rules are in place for everyone’s protection. You are not above the rules!” Severa had no idea why she was trying to instruct Potter. This lesson never stuck.
“I just …” Potter sighed. “Look, I don’t leave the castle. Okay? I have my wand on me and I can hear people coming. I’m not defenceless, just restless.” She looked at Severa with pleading verdant eyes. “Please … I miss you.”
Severa was shocked. They should have been cured of the accidental potion making them feel lust, but she had to admit to having yearnings for the girl in front of her. She had never felt as good as she had in Potter’s arms, and the unfairness rankled her.
“I miss you and I wish we were back in your bed.” Potter’s visage was open, showing the truthfulness in her statements, a deep longing for affection that matched her own.
But they couldn’t act on that, no matter how much they both wanted it. “That is highly inappropriate and will not happen at this school. I suggest you return to your bed.”
A deep sadness came into those eyes along with resignation, yet determination and a steel resolve followed close on their heels, giving Severa great pause. “That doesn’t mean it can’t happen, ever. I only have a few months left until I’m legal and then just one more year of school. If you can wait that long, so can I.” Without waiting for a reply, Potter got off the windowsill and walked away, back to her tower.
Stunned, Severa didn’t shout or take more points or hand out another detention. Instead she saw the open possibilities before her and wondered “what if.” It would be a long wait, and of course there was no knowing what absurdities Potter would get up to in the meantime, but for once Severa didn’t see her as the obnoxious teenager. Somehow in all this mess, she had come to revise her opinion of Harriet Potter as a young lady worth getting to know.
And perhaps she’d offer to take her to get her eyesight fixed over the summer.
Severa smiled at the lightness suddenly filling her heart. Maybe that was an aftereffect of the potion. She would have to record it in her notes.
-The End-
--