Inscribed in Air & Fire
~ An HP fanfic by Snape Ophelia ~
Chapter 3
"Annwyd," said Dumbledore as they exited the staff room, "perhaps you would not mind dining with me in my office rather than having lunch in the Great Hall. There are some matters we need to discuss."
"Yes, Headmaster. That would be fine."
Dumbledore beckoned Snape. "Severus, perhaps you should join us as well. Since you will be overseeing Miss Gwir's work, these issues will be of interest to you as well."
Snape nodded curtly and followed without a word. Annwyd felt her appetite departing. A private lunch with Dumbledore might be a pleasant alternative to a meal in the Great Hall. She was not at all certain that the same could be said for a private lunch that included the Potions Master.
As they reached the end of the corridor and rounded the corner, they were almost bowled over by a running house elf. The little creature jumped back, bowing and squeaking apologies.
"It's quite all right, Lolly," Dumbledore reassured her. "Is there a reason for this haste?"
"Yes, sir, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the creature, her pointed ears trembling with excitement. "I's supposed to give you this message—right away, sir!—urgent!" She held up a folded piece of parchment.
Dumbledore unfolded the note, read it, and slipped it into a pocket. "Thank you, Lolly." As the elf looked wound up to depart at the same frantic pace, the old wizard added mildly, "Less haste will be required for your return."
The elf bowed and walked away with comically slow and measured steps.
"Well," Dumbledore turned to Annwyd and Snape, "it seems that a small matter demands my attention. I will require the use of my office to dispense with this task, so perhaps we could have our luncheon brought to Miss Gwir's quarters. I will join the two of you there shortly."
The headmaster departed, leaving Annwyd and Snape in the corridor.
"Uh, my rooms are just off the main entryway," offered Annwyd.
He apparently didn't notice the implied question. "I am aware of that. Proceed."
She stole a glance at each of the three options, then picked the one that seemed most likely. Snape gave a small snort of disgust. "Unless the castle has moved more than is its usual wont, you will not reach your rooms by way of Gryffindor Tower."
Since Snape was still not offering any advice, Annwyd considered the two remaining options. But by then he had apparently lost patience. "Follow," he snapped, and took the corridor down which Lolly had departed. Annwyd trailed after him, feeling less appetite than ever.
~*~
Annwyd and Snape finished the meal as they had started it—largely unimpeded by conversation. Dumbledore had still not arrived.
Alone with the Potions Master, she was once again aware of that cold sense of presence, a presence that remained strangely detached from the energy of the room. Given a sufficient exertion of will, she knew that she could influence the energy locked behind that facade—she had managed it in the past—but even then there had been an odd sensation of working in the dark. With most people, she could easily feel the subtle energies responding to the patterns she imposed. With Snape, she could only tell that any effect had been achieved by reading the more mundane physical signs. Far from intruding on her own keen awareness, as the average person was wont to do, the Potions Master presented only a barrier.
She remembered the moment in the faculty meeting when Dumbledore had announced the new duties to be imposed on the senior staff. For a few seconds, she was certain that a burst of anger had radiated from Snape. She could recall similar happenings from his classes. So something gets through, now and again, she thought.
The silence hung heavy and Annwyd fidgeted with the objects on the work table in front of her. As she arranged and rearranged her silverware, she found herself studying Snape's profile. His black hair looked slightly disheveled and slightly oily as always, but there was no grey interrupting its darkness. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes and a slight crease to either side of his mouth, but she suspected those had more to do with constant scowling than age. It was rather surprising to realize that twelve years ago when she was a student, Snape must have been quite young—younger perhaps than Annwyd was now. At the time, such a thing had never occurred to her. Even now, it was hard to reconcile the notion with her memories. He had always been far too ill-tempered and, in a word, frightening to be comfortably described by a word like youthful, regardless of what his age had actually been. She tried to imagine Snape at twelve or fourteen and decided that he probably hadn't been youthful even then.
Her eyes drifted down to his hand, resting on the table. Like his face, his hands were very pale, and there was something…precise…about the shape of his long fingers. Scholarly hands, she thought to herself, apropos of nothing.
Unlike herself, Snape had mastered the art of remaining perfectly still. No idle drumming of the fingertips, no mindless toying with the napkin. Her eyes returned to his face and she noted that his features were as immobile as his hands; even his eyes were motionless, his gaze steady and fixed, though not, as far as she could tell, on anything in particular. She was almost startled when he blinked.
"Instructor Gwir," he said abruptly, still without turning or moving his eyes, "based on this rather prolonged scrutiny, I can only suspect that I am being added to your repertoire." Now he did turn his head to face her, and the expression in his dark eyes was hard. "Let me assure you that one Professor Snape at Hogwarts is quite sufficient. I am certain that my students would agree." The eyes narrowed slightly and the vertical creases around his mouth deepened. "I would be displeased—I would be most thoroughly displeased—if I were to encounter, or hear about, a duplicate Potions Master. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Professor," Annwyd said, flushing. "I didn't mean…I did not intend…anything like that. It's just a habit…studying people's faces."
He continued to stare at her.
"I do use them sometimes, of course," she admitted, "but I wasn't planning…." She trailed off. "I won't do that, I promise."
He nodded and the stare released her. "Based on her reaction this morning, I would venture to say that Professor McGonagall was also less than delighted with the idea."
She allowed herself a grim half-smile. "No, delighted wouldn't have been my interpretation. I suppose it was a rather foolish impulse."
Snape did not bother to confirm or deny her self-assessment and the room lapsed back into silence.
"Do you know," ventured Annwyd after a moment, "in what way you're supposed to be …overseeing my work?"
"Of that," said Snape, quirking an eyebrow, "I remain as ignorant as yourself. No doubt Dumbledore will enlighten us. Should he ever choose to arrive."
As if on cue, there was a brisk knock on the door and a second later the headmaster entered.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Dumbledore said cordially. "I see you've already had your lunch. Excellent. Perhaps then we can move to the sitting room."
"We could stay here if you'd like to eat something," offered Annwyd.
"Thank you, my dear, but I've managed a snack while dealing with my visitor."
He ushered them into the next room and into the two armchairs, then conjured a third chair for himself.
"I trust that the two of you have used this time to become better acquainted," said Dumbledore. He pretended not to notice when neither responded. "Well then, let us turn to business." His expression turned slightly more serious. "In discussing your role at Hogwarts, Instructor Gwir, there are a few points to be made that might be slightly…distasteful to you…though not excessively so, I hope. Nonetheless, I thought such matters would be more comfortably discussed in private."
"Thank you, sir," said Annwyd. To herself she added, they would be more comfortably discussed minus Professor Snape. She decided to focus on the older wizard and ignore the Potions Master as much as possible.
"First," said the headmaster, "some of the other teachers have expressed concerns about the skills your students will learn. It would not do to have students impersonating teachers. Or handing in illusory assignments."
The latter caused Annwyd to blush, but she waited for Dumbledore to continue.
"It is my hope, then, that you will be able to show us—the faculty, that it—the methods by which glamours can be detected. We will need to be forearmed against possible misuse of these skills. Students being students, mischief will no doubt be done. But we hope to keep the chaos to a minimum."
"Well, sir, on that issue there is good news and bad news—"
"By all means, let us have the bad news first then," said Dumbledore. "I always prefer to end on a cheerful note."
"The bad news is that there is no easy way to detect glamours, especially for those who have no training in Glamour Casting themselves. An experienced caster learns to be very aware of the subtle energies, and therefore he can usually sense a disruption or abnormality. But even an experienced caster can be fooled if the glamour is good, especially if he is tired or distracted. Witches or wizards untrained in glamours are rarely able to notice them at all. Even once they are pointed out, they can be very difficult to detect."
"Are there wards or magical objects which can aid in their detection?" asked Snape.
"If there are, I have never heard of them."
"I confess I had hoped for a different answer," said Dumbledore. "But perhaps the good news will lend us encouragement."
"Well, the good news, I suppose, is that the problem will not present itself immediately. Glamour Casting is not quickly learned."
"You seemed rather adept at an early age," said Dumbledore mildly. She tried not to read this as a reproach.
"My grandfather taught me to cast from the time I could talk," said Annwyd. "My father died just before I was born, and Aunt Hafina, father's sister, wanted nothing to do with Glamours. She thinks of them as quite…disreputable. Grandfather was determined to pass his knowledge on to someone in the family, and it turned out that I was his only option. He wasted no time in starting my education. I think he was afraid he might die before he had a chance to complete my lessons." She fought down a sudden lump in her throat. Though his death had occurred several months ago, it was still hard to speak of him. She had carefully avoided the subject in her thoughts for the past few days….
"The students here," she continued in a carefully unemotional tone, "have no such training, I would imagine."
"Occasionally," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, eyeing Annwyd, "such a student has come along. But, in general, lack of training is a safe assumption."
"If all goes well, then, they may be able to produce colors and simple patterns by the end of the term. There is a great deal of preliminary work to be done before even simple glamours can be achieved. You don't have to worry about illusory dragons roaming the corridors anytime soon."
"And when the students become more advanced?" said Snape.
"By that time," said Annwyd, "we may hope that a solution will present itself. Perhaps there are detection wards or objects of which I am unaware. If nothing else, I would be happy to instruct the faculty as well, if they wish to learn. They would eventually learn to detect most sorts of illusions."
Dumbledore nodded. "I judge that to be sufficient for the moment." He paused for a moment to stroke his silvery beard. "The second issue, Annwyd, concerns your own use of these arts. I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that many wizards are still distrustful of Glamours."
"I am only too well aware of that," sighed Annwyd. Deceits, spoken in McGonagall's voice, echoed in her mind with the force of a curse.
"There are certain concerns, both here and in the Ministry," Dumbledore said carefully. "It is my hope that, in time, the prevailing attitude will grow more tolerant. At the moment however…I must extract a promise from you as a condition of your employment." He waited to catch her eye before continuing. "You may of course practice your arts in private, give demonstrations in the course of instruction, and, should the need arise, use your talents in self-defense. Beyond that, I must ask you to promise that you will not perform Glamour Castings at Hogwarts."
Annwyd was stunned. She had expected that he would ask her to limit her casting in some way. She had been quite prepared to promise not to teach the controversial Glamours of touch. She would have been happy to swear off casting likenesses of other faculty members. But to forswear the use of her arts all together? That idea had never crossed her mind.
"Headmaster, I…I did not expect anything so…stringent."
"I understand. I would not ask if it wasn't necessary. But, given the current state of affairs, I am afraid I can only allow you to remain here if you are willing to make such a promise."
"I can't give you an answer…just now…not without a chance to think it over."
"Will tomorrow morning give you sufficient time?"
She nodded with sudden weariness. Must everything always be so difficult?
"In the event that you do decide to join us, as I hope you will, there is another important matter to be discussed." When she made no comment, Dumbledore continued. "It will be helpful for us to have an understanding—and by 'us' I refer to myself and Severus—of the extent of your more…traditional magical skills."
Annwyd's posture stiffened. "I'm not sure I see the relevance, Headmaster. No doubt your other instructors—excuse me, professors—teach those skills admirably well."
"They do indeed. That is not why I ask." It was Dumbledore's turn to sigh wearily. "Hogwarts is as well-warded as any place in Britain. We try to take no risks with our students' safety. Sadly, however, the last three years have proved that even our best efforts are sometimes inadequate…."
"I can assure you," Annwyd said sharply, now feeling thoroughly defensive, "that my wand-casting talents are a threat to no one."
"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore gently. "It is your safety I am presently concerned with. There are certain skills most of us take for granted. Your specialties, of course, lie elsewhere. If there is any pertinent…lack…in your knowledge, I would endeavor to provide some compensation. Either by providing appropriate tutoring or by some other means."
Annwyd was feeling uncomfortably close to tears. A moment ago she was being treated as a dangerous wielder of disreputable powers, and now she was seen as a stupid, helpless child. Only a glance at Snape, who sat watching her impassively, allowed her to choke back a cry of frustration. She had a feeling that, at best, the Potions Master would greet a crack in her composure with impatience, and at worst, he would give her a look of smug satisfaction. I'll be damned if I'll provide that opportunity, she thought.
"What exactly do you want to know, Professor Dumbledore?" asked Annwyd, pushing down tearfulness in favor of annoyance and resignation.
"How are your skills with wards of protection?"
"About the level of the average first or second year student, I guess."
"Charms?"
"I can summon small objects from a short distance. I can do simple silencing charms or binding charms. Sometimes. And I possess a moderate skill with healing charms."
"Can you perform disarming spells? stunning spells? shield spells?"
"Unreliably."
"Hexes and curses?"
"I haven't tried in years."
"Can you conjure objects?"
"No."
"Apparate?"
"No."
"What sort of competence do you have with Potions and Transfigurations?"
Annwyd sighed. Though she tried to resist the impulse, she couldn't keep from casting a sidelong glance at Professor Snape. "My skills with Potions are minimal. First-year level perhaps. Transfiguration…." She shook her head.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Instructor, you were at Hogwarts for three years prior to your…departure…were you not? Surely you must have learned something during that time. I, for one, do not give students passing grades from kindness."
Annwyd and Dumbledore exchanged looks.
"As I recall, Severus, you were temporarily absent from the school at the time of Annwyd's departure. And rather busy upon your return. Possibly the details of the case escaped you."
"I was under the impression," replied Snape, "that Miss Gwir was dismissed for cheating on final exams through the use of Glamours. I was told as much by Minerva. Since Miss Gwir was not a Slytherin, nor a notable student of Potions, I did not inquire after further details."
"I see," said Dumbledore. He seemed to be searching for a tactful explanation when Annwyd interrupted.
"Perhaps you would lend me your wand for a moment, Professor. Mine is in the other room."
Though the words had been addressed to Snape, it was Dumbledore who handed over his wand. Annwyd clasped it firmly with her right hand. Her left hand was draped over the arm of the chair. "I will demonstrate my Transfiguration skills," she said bitterly.
She pointed the wand at various objects in the room. A book turned into a toy sailboat. The rug in front of the hearth became a rectangular plot of daisies. The bookcase became a grandfather clock and bonged twice. Finally, her silver trinket box, resting on the table next to Snape, turned into a field mouse, sat up on its hind legs, and wriggled its nose in Dumbledore's direction.
"Well?" said Snape.
"Perhaps you would care to pick up the mouse. He doesn't bite."
Snape scooped up the small rodent. "Ah, I see." He gazed down at the little creature squirming in his palm. "A mouse that feels remarkably like a trinket box."
"Professor McGonagall noticed that too. Generally, she only inspected our work visually. But on that particular final exam, I apparently made the mouse so endearing that she suddenly felt inspired to pick it up. At the time, there was nothing I could do." Annwyd paused and took a deep breath. "I would do somewhat better now, I think."
Snape suddenly startled and his eyes widened. The cool, metal weight in his hand had abruptly become warm, furry, and restless. Tiny toenails pressed against his skin.
Annwyd returned the wand to Dumbledore and gave the air a slice with her right hand. All the objects appeared as they had before.
"I have never transfigured an object in my life. Not that I didn't try."
Snape set the trinket box back on the table and gave Annwyd a long, appraising stare. "You are not, apparently, one of the Glamour Casters who shies away from tactile illusions because of their possible Dark Arts connections."
"A tactile mouse is not an Unforgivable Curse, Professor."
"Indeed," said Snape with an odd expression.
Annwyd glanced away from the Potions Master to find Dumbledore regarding her steadily. She could not be sure if the glint in his eyes was a sign of mild reproach or wry amusement. "I have not made any promises yet, Headmaster," she said, half in apology, half in defiance.
"No, Annwyd, though I do hope you will. I suspect you would be an…interesting addition to our faculty."
"Miss Gwir," interposed Snape in a slightly chillier voice than before. "Am I to assume that something similar happened in the Potions classroom?"
"Professor Dumbledore," said Annwyd, apparently intent on ignoring the question, "could I trouble you to conjure a glass of water for me?"
"Certainly." The glass appeared and he handed it to Annwyd.
She took a long drink. "Thank you, Headmaster. I seem to recall, Professor Snape, an exam in which we were tested on shrinking potions. If I remember correctly, the potion was a revolting shade of green and smelled horrible. Rather like this." With only a slight furrowing of her brows to betray concentrated effort, she held up the glass, which was now smoking slightly. An acrid odor wafted up from the thick green liquid.
"Yes," said Snape, in a very low and decidedly cold voice. "Very much like that. And you needn't bother to demonstrate the effects of your potion by shrinking—excuse me, appearing to shrink yourself. You may assume that I have now grasped the point."
"If it is any consolation, Professor Snape, I always found you more resistant to Glamours than the other teachers."
"How interesting," he said in a tone that managed to convey a total lack of interest.
Annwyd chose to ignore the tone. "Yes, I thought it was. If you care to know, I only glamoured my potions on the exams. It required an unusually high degree of focus."
"And on the other practical assignments?"
"You simply never looked at my work."
Dumbledore looked mildly astonished. Snape started to protest but she cut him short.
"Whenever you came prowling about the room in search of mistakes, I made myself extremely inconspicuous. That is a glamour that works on almost everyone. Even experienced casters find it difficult to detect. Probably because it demands so little. Only that your attention slide by in search of a more…engaging target."
She wondered if she had pushed things too far. Prowling about was, in retrospect, a less-than-diplomatic choice of words. But Snape only twisted his mouth slightly and nodded.
Feeling emboldened by this, and propelled by an overabundance of taut nerves, Annwyd pushed forward to add a final comment. "I would not be surprised, Professor, if your lack of curiosity regarding my expulsion had its source in the fact that you found it hard to remember me."
He crossed his arms and gave a small snort, but the quickly concealed widening of his eyes told Annwyd she'd indeed hit the mark.
She suddenly couldn't resist the urge to laugh. She tried to stifle the giggles bubbling up from her chest, but they stubbornly refused to be stifled. She covered her mouth with her hands and laughed till her eyes watered. Good gods, said a small voice, I'm becoming hysterical. Finally, the giggling fit passed. She wiped her wet face with the sleeve of her robe.
"I apologize, Professor. Truly I'm laughing mostly at myself. I was so intimidated after the first few Potions lessons that I never went near the dungeons again without my trusty raincoat and old shoe."
"Old shoe?" said Dumbledore in perplexity.
"Shielding glamours. The raincoat is a general purpose energy-deflector. The old shoe makes whatever it is cast on appear so completely comfortable, unremarkable, and easy to take for granted that it is almost impossible to question it." One last giggle trickled out.
"I am certainly gratified to see," Snape said nastily, "that you have quite outgrown your feelings of intimidation."
"Not really, Professor, but I am extremely tired, confused, far from home, and far from certain that I will have a job tomorrow. And I am occasionally inclined to fits of false bravado under stress."
"Not to mention a rather regrettable level of candor," added Snape.
"There are moments when candor is called for," said Dumbledore. "But I think we have achieved enough of it for today. Annwyd, I will leave you to think over your decision. It is my hope that you will choose to remain at Hogwarts in spite of the constraints that will be required. If you choose otherwise, there will be no ill will on my part. Undoubtedly we will find other curriculum for your classes. However," he said, fixing her with uncharacteristically serious blue eyes, "as I said at the meeting, we are living in dark times. We are in need of every trick at our disposal to fight Voldemort, and you seem to have a number of tricks to add to our repertoire."
Dumbledore rose from his chair, as did Snape.
"Severus, kindly see to it that Miss Gwir's rooms are properly warded before you leave. Something keyed to her person would be best so that she will not need to use a spell to enter."
Snape nodded.
"Annwyd, let me know if there is anything you require. Otherwise, you may use the remainder of the day to rest or amuse yourself as you wish. And please come to my office tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore…Albus. I truly do appreciate your kindness. I will tell you in the morning what I've decided."
"How would you prefer the wards to be set?" Snape asked her when Dumbledore had gone.
Annwyd shrugged. "However you think best." Her brief spell of giddiness had receded.
He walked to the entrance in a swirl of black robes, Annwyd following. She watched as he briefly inspected the chamber. Then, withdrawing his wand, he traced a complex pattern around her door, muttering spells at several points in the design. When he was satisfied with his work, he stepped aside.
"The wards are in place, Instructor, but they must be keyed to respond to you. If you will place the palm of your hand against the door, here," he tapped the center of the wide oak panel, "I will set them to recognize and admit you."
She stepped forward until she was arm's length from the door and pressed the palm of her hand against the wood in the spot he had indicated.
"It would be helpful if you could stand somewhat closer to the door."
Annwyd took a half-step forward, wondering why it mattered.
"Now kindly remain still until I have finished." A second later she felt the warmth of his body just behind her as he laid one hand over hers. He murmured another incantation and tapped the door with his wand. A faint pattern of reddish lines flared against the wood. For several seconds, the lines continued to glow, growing brighter and clearer. The palm of his hand continued to press against the back of hers. Then Snape murmured a final word and the glowing lines vanished.
The hand lifted from hers and he stepped away.
"That should provide adequate protection."
She turned to face him. "Th--thank you," she stammered. "I'm sure it will be fine."
There was a pause. Snape returned the wand to his pocket.
"It would be easier for me to depart, Miss Gwir, if you were not standing directly in front of the door."
She flushed and moved aside quickly.
As he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, she said impulsively to his back, "I'm sorry if I've offended you this afternoon, Professor. If I have, it wasn't my intention."
It seemed that he would leave without replying, but then he stopped just outside the door. He spoke without turning, still facing into the hall. "In light of this afternoon's conversation, I somewhat regret that circumstances did not allow me to be present when you were expelled."
Coming at the end of a day that had already included too many strains, the rebuff was the proverbial last straw. I'll be damned if I make that promise. It's not worth it.
"Perhaps," she said in a glamoured voice full of scorn and ice, "it will compensate for the loss of that pleasure to know that I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. And while I'm sure that you could have added many gratifying comments to further support the case for my dismissal, be assured that Professor McGonagall said quite enough for both of you."
She heaved the door closed but he turned and caught it before it could slam shut. "If I had been present, Miss Gwir, I believe I would have argued that you should remain. During the course of serving four years of extraordinarily well-earned detentions, you might have been able to teach us something of interest."
And with that, he pulled the door closed.
~*~
Late that evening, Annwyd sat curled in one of the armchairs, staring moodily into the empty fireplace. Two hours spent lolling in the huge claw-foot tub had calmed her nerves and left her wanting to sleep. But there was a decision to be made by morning.
She traced a familiar pattern in the air and a grizzled old wizard in simple, rough clothing appeared in the empty armchair beside her.
"Annwyd, my little love, how are you?" His voice was hoarse and graveled but filled with fondness.
"Hello, Grandfather." Annwyd smiled at his familiar sun-browned face and sparkling eyes. His leathery features crinkled merrily as he returned the smile.
"Nice room," he gestured at the deep patterned rug, the stone hearth, and the cases of leather-bound books.
"It is nice, isn't it? And the bedroom's even nicer. I think I could like living in these rooms."
"Are you going to stay then?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "They want me to give up the Glamours…except in classes."
"That shouldn't be a surprise, girl. You know how people feel."
"I don't know if I can do it, Grandfather." She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. Even with her eyes shut, she could feel the old man's comforting presence. For the first time that day, she felt safe. "Most of the tricks I could learn to do without. But I don't think I can manage without the shields."
"Annwyd," he said tenderly, "you and I have the same strength—and weakness. Sensing the energies comes easy to us, but blocking them out comes hard. It's why I chose the country rather than the city, why I chose my own little corner of the earth and kept the wizarding world at a distance."
"I know, Grandfather. And I miss it. The cottage, the village, the woods….but I just couldn't stay there without you."
"It might have been a mistake to keep you there so long. Might have been a mistake to keep myself there. Sometimes the world involves us in its business whether we like it or not. Hiding isn't always the answer."
She opened her eyes and regarded him. "Do you mean…do you mean Lord Voldemort?"
The old man only shrugged.
"Do you think I should stay?"
He shrugged again. "Maybe we should do your lessons, rabbit."
She smiled. "Which lessons should we work on?"
"Always best to begin at the beginning. What are the proper uses of the Glamours?"
Her smile deepened. The very first of the lessons, repeated endlessly. "To create what is beautiful. To remember what is gone. To comfort those who are troubled. To shield the weak from the cruel."
The old man nodded approval. "And how must the Glamours never be used?"
"To harm those who mean no harm."
"Why?"
"Because it is evil."
"And…?"
"To trade illusions for wealth. Because in that there is no honor. To trade illusions for love. Because in that there is no joy."
The wizard gave her another smile of approval.
"You will make the right decision, Annwyd."
The old man and the young woman sat together in comfortable silence. It was a long time before she dropped the glamour.
~*~
Some hours later Annwyd startled awake and realized she'd been dozing in her chair. She extinguished the lights and wandered sleepily into the bedroom. After leaving her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor, she crawled under the covers, nestling down beneath the quilts.
Laying on her side, she gazed out into the room's shadows. She'd been dreaming something just before she woke, but now she couldn't remember what it was. She yawned, and her left hand pushed a heavy lock of hair away from her forehead.
After settling her hair more comfortably onto the pillow, her fingers traced the air softly, of their own volition it seemed.
She was almost surprised when a tall figure appeared next to the bed, regarding her with black unreadable eyes. Her breath caught as she looked up at the somber face above her, angular planes catching the shadows, skin pale in the darkness. The figure stepped closer and lay a hand against the side of her face. A flash of heat flowed from his palm to her cheek, radiating a wash of energy deep under the skin until her whole body filled with a dark glow.
With a gasp, she disentangled her other hand from the covers and made a swift cut in the air. The hand on her cheek and the dark eyes vanished. She rolled over, shaken and feeling feverish.
Why in seven hells did I do that?
She forced a series of calm, even breaths. Because, said a small voice, it felt almost like that. When he touched you. When he was setting the wards on the door.
She had spent the evening carefully not remembering that moment. If she had really felt that sudden flash of energy, it must have had something to do with the spell he was casting on the door. Some kind of side effect. Nothing more.
Then why, the voice insisted, did you feel that rush of heat a full second before the incantation?
She banished the voice. She needed to go to sleep. After all, she had a class to teach tomorrow.