AN: Look guys, a real chapter! It has more than 3 words in it!
smell1it1gently - you are correct in this, for the most part. It affects other functions as well. You still get a cookie, though!
DZAuthor AKA DZMom - apologies, I was supposed to be referencing the dark bruising under her eyes and just forgot to add those extra words :D I will fix that.
cinnamin - Severus may be a prat, but he is an observant prat.
Once again absolute gratitude for the reviews. I LOVE the feedback!
This is completely un-betad and fresh off my brain. I don't own diddly squat except Alexis, Freya and Terrence (AKA Terry).
"The feeling is mutual," he snarled at the golden wood of the door.
He couldn't concentrate. This had never been a problem for him before, and in more dangerous situations than his current predicament. One did not spy on a dark lord without some ability to keep one's head in any situation that may arise. The ability to think immediately after cruciatus was what had kept him alive. So why could he not pin the words down on the page in front of him? The words were ones he knew he should understand but they just would not sink in.
And this indigestion. It was like a rock had settled in his gut. A large and lumpy one at that. It could be the food – he was not accustomed to eating such quantities, or such quality. He was used to the bland, boiled, somewhat gelatinous foods often served at the staff table. Pressure cooked brussel sprouts were a favourite of Minerva's, and so the table would often have an infinitely more appealing dish substituted out in favour of the green … vaguely spherically shaped goop she would devour with relish. He shuddered at the memory.
So he opted for drinking the orange juice and plucked out the unjuiced toast from beneath its pile of bacon and egg. Keep it simple and small. A dose of chamomile, peppermint, ginger … and it wouldn't hurt to add a spot of valerian, all things any sensibly stocked potions laboratory would have on hand and in quantities, and the indigestion would disappear.
As he munched through the piece of toast he opened the glass-doored cabinets in the makeshift bedroom. Every jar was clearly labelled, the shelves arranged alphabetically by their latin names. This was clearly the herb cupboard. Dried pulmonaria officinalis flowers sat beside its dried seeds, all labelled in his handwriting.
He pulled down the jar of dried matricaria recutita flowers, mentha piperita leaves, and macerated dehydrated valeriana officinalis roots. He could not, however, locate any zingiber officinale. There was a small space where both the young and the old rhizomes would sit in jars. There was even space for the juice of the rhizome.
He marvelled at the quality of the glasswork and the contents of each jar as he carried them into the laboratory proper. The lids were pop-tops, lined with a flexible material that provided the absolute air tight conditions required for the preservation of dried herbs. He placed the jars on the marble bench-top that curled around the cauldron. In the cupboard beneath he found what he was looking for – a small burner with a fitted pitcher-shaped cauldron and a small lid. The corner of his mouth twitched. This other him had good sense. It would not do to utilise the larger cauldron for small remedies.
That, however, did not solve the absence of fresh ginger. Or a dab of honey to sweeten the mix and make it more palatable.
As he pondered how best to approach the acquisition of these two substances, he filled the caludron with water and set it to boil. There would be no help for it. He also required a mug. The other him did not have quite enough good sense to keep spare mugs to serve the small remedies into.
This excursion would likely involve another altercation with Alexis, as well as the chance of running into the snake or the child. Severus ground his teeth. He would not be held trapped in a basement. Certainly not through concern for a child or fear of a technicoloured feather boa. His hand gripped the door handle and he opened the door.
He wasn't sure why he had held his breath, and he let it out in a rush. The hallway was empty. He walked towards the kitchen, steps silent but confident. He would not skulk in a house his other self, and now he, owned.
He paused at the kitchen door. He heard voices – two, Alexis and an unknown male. Alexis was apologising – she had forgotten they had been invited out to dinner, and she was terribly sorry, but Severus was not himself. The male commented on her pallor, concern deepening his voice. Severus' eyebrows drew down when she didn't yell, but instead thanked him for his concern. He stepped through the door and into the kitchen.
Alexis stood, smiling sadly up at the blonde man as he stood on the threshold of the back door. His thumb grazed the dark circles under one blue eye. She shook her head.
"I'm fine, really, I didn't sleep well last night," she said, shaking her head and his hand off.
Severus advanced, all those years of belittling and merciless jibes rolled into his stride as he bore down on that white haired, silken tongued liar of a Malfoy.
Alexis moved so quickly. He was vaguely aware of her mouthing 'petrificus totalus', unheard over the roaring in his ears, before his tunnel vision discarded everything but the wand. She was no muggle, that was monterillo. Panic rose in his throat before his head hit the wall that had been metres behind him. His tunnel vision narrowed to a tiny prick of light.
His brain sluggishly turned the word 'monterillo' over and over in his head, its meaning never diminishing. It was no wonder she did everything by hand, that wand would be more suited to playing frisbee with plates than stack them neatly! His heartbeat thrummed into his ears, and above that he heard Alexis scream. He felt more than heard Lucius rush down the hallway.
He felt a hand touch his cheek.
"I am so sorry," she murmured above him. "I am so sorry, Severus." Alexis brushed the hair away from his face with a quaking hand. "I shouldn't have done that but you looked like you were going to murder Lucius!" She let out a distinctly watery sniff.
His eyes could just make out her blurry form as she leaned over him. He watched her reach and take a potion – she wouldn't let Lucius poison him, surely – and turn back to him. Lucius hovered.
"Please, I promise I will come visit soon, but for now, please leave," Alexis pleaded, craning her neck to look at the blonde man. Severus was vaguely aware of movement beyond his immediate vision.
"I will hold you to that promise, Lexie," Lucius said from the doorway. "Please, take care of yourself." The door creaked shut as he left. Alexis' face swam into view again, this time with an unstoppered vial held in her hand. He clenched his teeth shut. She clenched her jaw in response, and her eyes darkened.
"This is an anti-concussive potion my husband made," she said, forcing her voice even and soothing. His teeth remained clenched. "He made it for Freya, in case she ever fell over and hit her head." He responded by rolling away from her and slowly, unsteadily, getting to his feet. She raised herself with him, hands splayed and ready to catch him.
He did not need help. He shoved her hands away. She straightened her back and dropped her hands to her sides.
"Fine. If you want a concussion, that's absofuckinglutely fine. You can have your stupid concussion, but if you ever try to hurt Lucius again, that concussion you have now will be a fucking walk in the park by comparison!" She threw her hand into the air and stormed out, slamming the open vial onto the bench as she did so.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. She had thrown him three metres into a wall. With the most basic petrifying curse. He eyed the vial.
That anti-concussive potion was looking like a pretty good idea.
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