AN: I know it's a widdly little thing of a chapter, please accept my apologies for it being so small and so delayed!
I do not own anything you recognise. And now, on with the show.
This is fresh-off-my-brain and un-beta'd.
When we first came here
we were cold and we were clear
With no colors in our skin
'Til we let the spectrum in
Once Susan was ensconced in the bathroom – the gown evidence of her escape from hospital, just as they had – Hermione returned to the table and sat down opposite him, finally taking a sip of her tea. "Thank you," she said quietly. He nodded, not entrusting his voice to fully express his willingness, his absolute need to please her, protect her, comfort her. Even if that comfort was in the form of tea and not himself.
Her eyes skimmed the cresting ocean outside the cabin. Questions were bubbling within his mind, each seeking to burst from his lips. Most pertinent was what could they not use? Clearly they were able to access and utilise their magic, to a much greater extent than should otherwise be capable of adolescent females. To a much greater extent than he would expect of even some of the more powerful witches and wizards of their age.
So what...
"Our wands," she said. Her face was a carefully painted mask of indifference. "We cannot use our wands."
Anything he could have said in response to that was cut off by terror's vice about his throat. A witch or wizard without their wand was nothing. Her head bowed and she stared at the ochre liquid in her mug.
"You will not be able to, either." The fear articulated itself in a strangled croak. "When I touched you, touched your mind … I tainted you. I am sorry." Her eyes squeezed shut and he was brought suddenly back to ground.
"You still have your magic," he breathed. She nodded. "Then it matters nought what has happened to me." He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. She shook her head. "Listen to me, and listen to me well, I will only say this once," he growled. Both palms were on the table and he leaned over, her wide brown eyes raised to his in surprise. "I'll not see you blame yourself for what happened in that room. You still have your magic, you are alive, whatever has happened to me does not matter in the face of that." Something dangerous flashed in her eyes before it was gone, and she was nodding meekly, once more the young child.
He sat, refolding his arms across his chest, and glared at the reef beyond the windows. She took a long sip of the tea and sighed. Susan tottered back in, wrapped in a woolen jumper so overlarge the tips of her fingers barely peeked out of the sleeves and long, comfortable pants. Another mug appeared on the table, and Severus promptly filled it and handed it to the slight girl. Her green eyes caught his in thanks. What he saw there knocked the breath from his lungs. It seemed to be a common occurence with these two children.
She ducked her head and stepped into Hermione's embrace before he could fully decipher the rolling darkness within her, a thing which hinted at destruction. Of her, of him, of that god-forsaken room this had all begun in.
His witch swept her amber eyes to him and he saw the annihilation mirrored in her own eyes. His spine shook, not through fear, but through desire. He had never longed for murder before. He did now. She wanted blood and he begged to give it to her.
Before he could move, she dropped her eyes back to Susan's, and together they crept to the window seat with their mugs, awkward girls seeking to remain as close as they could to one another. They took comfort from their touch, soft voices dropped into a murmur, too quiet for Severus to fully hear but musical and sweet enough to placate his rage. He did not doubt they still sought death, but for now they were content in comfort and tea.
His peripheral vision returned. He hadn't recalled it leaving, had not realised his focus had been so narrow. With a small shake, he turned and left the lounge and the lilting voices of the girls. It was his turn to become clean.
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