Changing Forms
Chapter 7 -
Honeysuckle and Antiques
The potion in the cauldron bubbled slightly as it turned from a light sea foam green to a shiny mother-of-pearl color. The witch making the potion had her mousy brown hair up with a wand stuck through it. She was looking exhausted and rather emotional. She had given up trying to hide the tears that had been shed. She made sure not to get any of these tears in the potion. She learned in her 6th year at Hogwarts that if you get tears in it, it makes the drinker walk into walls as if they were doors.
She paused a moment from stirring as she breathed in it's beautiful scent of honeysuckle, antique shops and holiday spices. She was tempted to stop stirring altogether, but knew she couldn't. After a grueling 40 more stirs, the potion was done. With a shaky hand, she put a ladle into the cauldron and got a small vile full of the mother-of-pearl liquid. She quickly put a stopper on top and looked at it. It glinted guiltily at her, almost with a hint worthy of Haddie Rochester, Head Girl of her 7th year. She could feel the tears coming again, and didn't stop them.
She threw the vial across the room, hearing it smash against her fireplace. She sunk to the ground, clinging to the table on which her cauldron rested. Wrought with fits of crying, she could not seem to find the energy to stand. Once she stopped the images of his handsome face from flashing in her memory, she was able to pull herself up to the cauldron. She looked at it longingly.
"Nymphadora, you stupid git," she said to herself scathingly. She quickly made the potion disappear with a flick of her wand and a simple incantation. The moment she did so, she wished he hadn't. But she knew it was right. It couldn't be artificial. She had it for two, maybe three beautiful hours. But she wasn't about to take it undeservingly. She knew that to get Remus Lupin's love, you had to earn it. And no amount of Amortentia or any love potion would change that. But for those brief hours, she felt she'd earned it. So why was he taking it away? He didn't seem to be the type to give something so beautiful away to no one. He was so soft spoken, so polite. The type you want to keep forever. The brave, beautiful, silent and wise type. Someone to grow old with—no matter how old he thought he was to begin with.
No, she would just have to take her pain with those few hours. Those hours seemed like a life time, but a lifetime that lasted only a minute. Nymphadora, exhausted from crying and advanced potion making, dragged herself upstairs and collapsed on her very soft bed and forgot for a brief six hours that she'd ever been crying.
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Sorry I took so long to update guys! I've been pretty busy with a Shakespeare Workshop/Julliard Intensive. Gearing up for the fall play! But I've been thinking about my story and NO I'm not going to abandon it. I love it dearly! School starts in a few days for me, but I know I'll find time for this story. Don't lose faith in me ;o).
WeasleyWife: Thanks for reading my story! I had hoped you would!