I was sitting, grading some first years on a cheering potion when I felt him come up behind me and rest his left cheek on my right one.
"Do you know," he whispered softy toward my lips, "what I realized when I was organizing my stores today?"
I didn't reply. I was nervous enough without letting him know.
"I realized that someone had taken three rat tails, salamander blood and the last of the purple sea weed, all of which are essential ingredients for, as I'm sure you know, a wound glamour potion." As he continued to talk, his right hand reached out to cover mine, his index finger drawing gentle circles on the back of my trembling hand.
"And you know what else?"
Silence.
"I noticed a cauldron that was placed rather hastily in its piece and to my surprise, I saw that it had not been cleaned, leaving a yellow residue behind. And, I ask you, what color is a wound glamour potion?"
"Yellow." I whispered.
"Correct. And then I thought, well who would be stupid enough to attempt make such a complex brew with no instructions, because I know that there is no such potion lesson in any of my textbooks. But, of course…my apprentice." He hissed the last word in anger that had been, no doubt, building up inside of him during his little speech. I didn't flinch. I was too used to his words.
"Where is it?" he barked, spit flying from his mouth onto the essay I was grading.
"What, sir?"
"Don't sir me, you idiot girl!" His fingernails dug into my skin. "Your injury that you were too stupid to come to me for. No doubt it has an infection now."
"Why do you -" Tears began to run down the side of my face. "You want to make it worse, don't you!" I yelled out suddenly before collapsing into sobs.
"To heal it, your stupid girl." He murmured, his nails relaxing as he wrapped his arms around me. He rocked me back and forth in that awkward position and pressed his lips against my forehead. "To make it better."
Just a one shot.