Yuletide Potions: Part XVIII
After countless cups of tea, and just as many chocolate biscuits, the tentative decision was made that none of Hermione’s previous attempts should have interfered with the combination of the stasis spell and the memory charm.
Severus admitted that once they had been briefed on the rudimentaries of spellcasting, Wendell and Monica had grasped them well. Their ability to make logical leaps and ask intelligent questions was refreshing. He had known many people who had spent their entire life immersed in magic who lacked their level of comprehension.
It was easy to see where Hermione had inherited her intelligence from.
***
“What do you think? Are you ready?” Hermione placed her hand on his forearm, and looked up at him hopefully. A few tendrils had escaped from her hastily pulled back hair, and they stuck against the beads of sweat along her neck. Even with air conditioning, Severus had taken to working in his rolled up shirtsleeves. He wasn’t sure if it was simply the heat, or the weight of feeling Hermione’s hopes upon his shoulders.
Severus swallowed, and then looked down at her arm on his bare skin, as it partially covered the faded black reminder of his teenaged impulsiveness.
***
Would it always be like this? Would he forever feel the curious freedom of her belief in his ability to work miracles simultaneously coupled with the impossible weight of responsibility for her happiness?
If this was love, he wasn’t sure if he should embrace it or run screaming in the opposite direction.
“Severus.” Her hand had moved to his face, concern showing in her eyes. He felt the raspy scrape of her fingers through his stubble, and idly wondered when either of them had last slept or showered. “You look like hell. Why don’t you go nap for a while?”
***
Shaking his head, he pointed to the table covered with parchments and books. “Not when we are so close,” he said tiredly.
“Look here,” she said in her bossy voice, the one that sounded distinctly Monica-like, “You’ll make mistakes if you try to make important decisions without enough sleep. They aren’t going to get worse if you rest for a bit.” She pointed outside, where Wendell and Monica were walking back from the beach, hand in hand. “Besides, it will give my father a chance to mess with the air, as it doesn’t seem to be getting cool in here.”
***
Severus nodded distractedly. He wasn’t really paying much attention to her words, as he was busy watching a bead of sweat make its’ way down her neck and across the swell of her breasts.
Thinking back to his brief foray into her memories, he remembered that flash of white hot desire he had sensed her having for him. Or was that him, having those feelings for her?
Later, he would probably blame his lack of control on his sleeplessness, but for now, he didn’t think at all. A pale finger reached out involuntarily and gently traced the path of moisture.
***
“How did this happen?” he said softly, as he heard her slowly inhale.
She laughed. “It’s hot in here. We were both too busy working to cast cooling charms, if I recall correctly.”
“No. How did that bossy old cat get her way with us?” Severus traced his fingers up her neck, and across her jaw. “How is it that everyone seems able to see something that we could not?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I don’t know.” Her fingers were busy exploring the scars on his neck. “I always admired your bravery, but there is no hero complex.”
***
“Thank goodness.” He pulled back from her. “I’m not sure I could take that from anyone. I’m not a hero.” He stared at the dusting of freckles across her nose and was nearly undone by the urge to see if he could kiss every single one. “So what was it?”
“I have a better question for you, if that’s what you wish to spend your time doing right now,” Hermione said. “I’ve been curious since we left home. What strings did you have to pull to get that Portkey that got us here so quickly? Who knows that you’re alive?”
Part XIX can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/grangersnape100/909197.html?#cutid1
Severus admitted that once they had been briefed on the rudimentaries of spellcasting, Wendell and Monica had grasped them well. Their ability to make logical leaps and ask intelligent questions was refreshing. He had known many people who had spent their entire life immersed in magic who lacked their level of comprehension.
It was easy to see where Hermione had inherited her intelligence from.
***
“What do you think? Are you ready?” Hermione placed her hand on his forearm, and looked up at him hopefully. A few tendrils had escaped from her hastily pulled back hair, and they stuck against the beads of sweat along her neck. Even with air conditioning, Severus had taken to working in his rolled up shirtsleeves. He wasn’t sure if it was simply the heat, or the weight of feeling Hermione’s hopes upon his shoulders.
Severus swallowed, and then looked down at her arm on his bare skin, as it partially covered the faded black reminder of his teenaged impulsiveness.
***
Would it always be like this? Would he forever feel the curious freedom of her belief in his ability to work miracles simultaneously coupled with the impossible weight of responsibility for her happiness?
If this was love, he wasn’t sure if he should embrace it or run screaming in the opposite direction.
“Severus.” Her hand had moved to his face, concern showing in her eyes. He felt the raspy scrape of her fingers through his stubble, and idly wondered when either of them had last slept or showered. “You look like hell. Why don’t you go nap for a while?”
***
Shaking his head, he pointed to the table covered with parchments and books. “Not when we are so close,” he said tiredly.
“Look here,” she said in her bossy voice, the one that sounded distinctly Monica-like, “You’ll make mistakes if you try to make important decisions without enough sleep. They aren’t going to get worse if you rest for a bit.” She pointed outside, where Wendell and Monica were walking back from the beach, hand in hand. “Besides, it will give my father a chance to mess with the air, as it doesn’t seem to be getting cool in here.”
***
Severus nodded distractedly. He wasn’t really paying much attention to her words, as he was busy watching a bead of sweat make its’ way down her neck and across the swell of her breasts.
Thinking back to his brief foray into her memories, he remembered that flash of white hot desire he had sensed her having for him. Or was that him, having those feelings for her?
Later, he would probably blame his lack of control on his sleeplessness, but for now, he didn’t think at all. A pale finger reached out involuntarily and gently traced the path of moisture.
***
“How did this happen?” he said softly, as he heard her slowly inhale.
She laughed. “It’s hot in here. We were both too busy working to cast cooling charms, if I recall correctly.”
“No. How did that bossy old cat get her way with us?” Severus traced his fingers up her neck, and across her jaw. “How is it that everyone seems able to see something that we could not?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I don’t know.” Her fingers were busy exploring the scars on his neck. “I always admired your bravery, but there is no hero complex.”
***
“Thank goodness.” He pulled back from her. “I’m not sure I could take that from anyone. I’m not a hero.” He stared at the dusting of freckles across her nose and was nearly undone by the urge to see if he could kiss every single one. “So what was it?”
“I have a better question for you, if that’s what you wish to spend your time doing right now,” Hermione said. “I’ve been curious since we left home. What strings did you have to pull to get that Portkey that got us here so quickly? Who knows that you’re alive?”
Part XIX can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/grangersnape100/909197.html?#cutid1