Act VII
31. Irregular
On our walk into the village we had walked as far apart as possible without triggering the pain spell. On our walk back we leaned on each other, weaving a bit.
"How much did we drink?" I giggled.
"Not sure, but its been a long time since I had a proper drink."
His arm was thrown over my shoulder. His cheek brushed my head every so often and I felt a bit self-conscious since I hadn't had a proper wash in a while.
"Sorry I'm dirty." I murmured.
"I've got a spell for that." He promptly pulled out his wand.
32. Midnight
It was past midnight when we stumbled into our camp. Severus had cast a dizzying variety of refreshing and cleaning spells over both of us. He had misjudged the mouthwash one and we had looked like rabid foxes for a few moments while he emptied his mouth out enough to clearly enunciate the counter spell. Exhausted and more than a little drunk, we collapsed in a heap on the sleeping bag. He fell asleep almost at once and left me attempting to shove him over in a wild bid to get some of the blanket. But he was quite warm.
33. Breakfast
I had the coffee going before he woke up. He lay sprawled across the bedroll, wand in his fist, face strangely slack in sleep. He stirred, rolling on his back and blinking at the sky.
"Good morning, Severus." I said softly, realizing that we had never actually called each other by name. "Coffee?"
He nodded and climbing to his feet; he headed over the hill to our makeshift lavatory that was just inside our spelled perimeter.
When he came stomping back, he was all scowls and glares, accepting the coffee cup with a grunt. Right, not a morning person then.
34. Book
We sat on the bluff overlooking the tiny town. I sketched and Severus scowled.
"There's not a scrap of evidence to suggest that the Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest folklore ever visited this bay," he finally snarled.
I nodded. "But the name Robin Hood also refers to an ancient forest spirit similar to Robin Goodfellow. Folk tales often have crossover."
"In the eighteenth century it was reportedly the busiest smuggling community on the Yorkshire coast," he continued in a softer tone after a moment.
"Really?" I glanced at him. He was watching me steadily. I surprised myself by blushing hotly.
35. Separation
Severus was bored. Unable to go more than a stone's throw away from me, he lay sprawled out at my feet while I drew. He reminded me of a rather surly but loyal dog.
"We need to get you a book or something. I think the nearest library is in Whitby, though."
"I haven't got a card, anyway."
"Hey," I nudged him gently with my foot until he cracked an eye, "What happened to magic?" I wiggled my fingers at him. "'Sides, I usually just steal them for a week or so, then bring them back. Completely unharmed, of course."
A smile to my extravagant beta renaid, for brainstorming endings & letting me talk about my characters like they are real people... because, well, they are.