The Favor of Witches
My feet were freezing in my boots and the cold caused tiny little shivers up and down my spine. I told myself that it was surely the weather that was the cause…not that it should have been possible between my dragon leather boots and sea serpent hide clothes. But the only other cause could have been apprehension – I refused to call it fear – and I was unwilling to believe that my Gryffindor courage would fail me now.
So, it was the cold that made me tremble as I stood outside the Magnar's tent with what was probably the second worst decision I had ever made in my entire life – the first being in the dragon arena with a book bag and a simple plan to do nothing. It really wasn't that cold either, but again…I dashed the thought from my mind as I tried to still my pounding heart.
Severus' weight was a small comfort on my shoulders as I waited impatiently for the guards to return. Curling my fingers into fists, I shoved them hastily into my robe pockets before someone saw. Around me, the camp went about its usual hustle and bustle as purple began to bloom across the darkening sky.
I could feel eyes on me. Servants and Thenns alike watched me standing there, in front of the two massive bear hides that made up the doorway to the pavilion size tent, shifting from one foot to the other foot and back as I waited for Styr's guard to return and either grant me permission to enter or force me to leave. I could feel Severus' tension from his perch on my shoulder. His small body was tight with apprehension and beneath the surface of my own uneasy emotions I could feel his roiling anger clashing with the small bit of smug victory he still had over our argument.
I had not wanted him to be here…well, that wasn't entirely true. I wanted Severus with me not only for protection but also his ability to out-think nearly everyone I had ever known. But I knew that to get what I needed from Styr, Severus couldn't be here. That argument fell through fairly quickly as Severus had shut it down with the simple explanation that there was no way he would ever let me enter Styr's tent alone, and that I could either accept his presence on my shoulder as usual, or he would make me regret ever being born.
There wasn't much that could truly frighten me anymore, especially after I had fought the dead, but the look in Severus' glowing purple-green eyes and the utter conviction that hummed threateningly through our connection left my heart pounding and fingers trembling for my wand. Styr, with all of his power and influence, may frighten me…but Severus absolutely terrified me. There was no arguing against him, so I didn't. Even though I knew that I was right, and he was just being stubborn.
My heart was thudding in my chest as I fought the urge to bring my hand up and stroke along Severus' soft hide in a self-comforting gesture. I had to appear certain and unafraid for my plan to work. I needed others to see me standing before the Magnar's tent, unwavering and undaunted.
It was harder than I thought.
Severus was opposed to this part of the plan – because of course he was – but we had already tried nearly every other means. As great as I was with battle magic, my healing abilities were still subpar, and we didn't have the time for me to learn how to do the necessary spells without getting caught. As it stood, we were less than a half moon's turn away from this Mance person, and I needed what was in Styr's tent to finish what Severus and I had started.
One more ingredient and that was it…just one more.
I fought not to flinch as the heavy bear hide over the doorway was shifted aside and the burly guard gestured for me to enter. Taking a deep fortifying breath, I stepped through into the tent, blinking my eyes as they adjusted to the low light.
Antlers from massive animals hung on upper support beams, smaller bones decorating the main pole in the center. A table made from a pale wood stood off to the side, several empty cups and a tray of half-eaten food covering the surface. There were several chairs covered in lighter furs, a larger one decorated with more skulls, and a massive bed with the largest antlers I have ever seen framing the center headboard. It had to be from some sort of moose, but they stretched further apart then even Styr was tall, and I couldn't imagine a moose that large.
A woman was lounging on the bed…no, two women were resting partly underneath the furs. And I could see from the limbs that weren't covered that they were very, very naked. I could feel my cheeks flush as one shifted and even less of her was now covered.
"Like what you see?" Styr asked, grinning ludely as he picked up a half full mug and draining it before he sat himself in the largest chair at the foot of the bed.
"Don't be gross," I said with a hiss as I approached, refusing to let myself be cowed by him. I all but threw myself into the chair across from him, ignoring the discarded robe that was thrown across the armrest – it probably belonged to one of the women – not even allowing him time to invite me, or refuse to offer me a seat. Severus shifted to perch himself on the back of the chair for better access if he had to suddenly take flight, a low angry rumble vibrating from deep in his chest. With Styr, one couldn't be too careful.
"You can join them, you know. If you want?" He tilted his head with another grin, and I sneered at him, looking away from his smug punchable face as I took in the others in the tent. Aside from the two women who were no doubt sleeping off their carnal activities, there were four guards lining the walls, and another standing in front of my only exit. I tried not to let the numbers against me make me feel anxious, reminding myself over and over that I was a witch. I may have had to leave my sword back in my own tent, but they couldn't make me leave my wand.
"That will never happen," I said with a sneer, trying to do my best to imitate Professor Snape. I had taken to separating the two, even if they were the same man. I just had a hard time sometimes remembering that the meanest professor at Hogwarts was also the same person who had guided and cared for me through our displacement. It was just easier to think of them as separate entities. Severus was clever and shrewd, but he was also kind and caring. Professor Snape was cruel, decisive, ruthless, and cunning…and I was getting almost perfect at imitating his blank expression of distaste with a single raised brow and curl of my lip.
"Then why are you here, little witch?" Styr asked, leaning back and gazing at me speculatively. He still looked entirely too smug and punchable, but now he at least was giving the impression of listening.
"To negotiate," I replied. 'To lay my trap', I thought to myself as Severus' emotions buzzed along my skin. He felt vindictive, but cautious. I took a breath and tried to let his emotions smother my fear and discomfort. "I'm here to offer you a chance."
"A chance?" The Magnar laughed, glancing at those who lined his tent walls. "And what exactly is this chance you are offering? Is it something fun?" Possessive fury coiled in my gut – I sent Severus a flash of annoyance until he got it under control, and I could concentrate on the man before me instead of the dragon behind me – and it took thinking of nothing but the cold wastes where our journey began to keep myself calm and placid.
I had conflicting emotions about the barren tundra we had traversed, but mostly I had found it cold, empty, and oddly peaceful. A suggestion from Severus when I was finding it hard to remain calm, an occlumency lesson in clearing my mind. It worked on stilling my emotions better than it did his, but picturing the desolate white landscape, imagining the cold wind on my face, the sound of snow crunching beneath my boots, and his warm presence around my neck did wonders to calm both of us.
"No, a chance to settle things between us before I am forced to seek aid," I said softly, trying not to be too obvious about glancing around and gauging the reactions of those standing guard. It worked both for and against me, having them here. On one hand, I wanted them to hear what was said, spread the word of my attempt to make peace and the threat if the Magnar refused. On the other, it made it more difficult to get what I truly came for with so many eyes on me.
Styr hummed quietly as he gazed at me, his eyes pinched in amusement. If the man wasn't so deplorable, I might have found him almost attractive. He had fairly pleasant features, despite the scarring – I was actually beginning to see the beauty in those ritual scars the longer I spent with the Thenns – his body was fit and muscular, and his eyes were a captivating blue. It was his personality that made him so appalling. As it were, I only felt a deep seeded disgust roiling in my lower stomach every time I laid eyes on him. "And who, exactly, little witch, would you be seeking aid from?"
It was the onequestion I needed him to ask, and I got the feeling like he knew that. The Magnar was indulging me at this point, but I didn't mind if it got me what I wanted. And what I wanted was him to understand exactly who – or more exactly what – he was dealing with.
"My gods, of course," I said speaking quietly as I ignored the snort of disbelief or disgust from one of the guards. I couldn't really tell which. "Your gods gave you the title of Magnar, Styr," I rolled his name as I flicked my fingers and summoned an empty cup from the table across the room. The guards jumped as it flew into my hands. "Mine gave me magic."
I drank the fresh water I had summoned into the cup discretely with my hidden wand, maintaining eye contact with the man across from me. I could hear the soft rustle of fur as the guards shifted, Severus quiet breaths and near silent angry rumble that he still hadn't stopped, the low voices outside as the rest of the Thenns went about their daily tasks unaware of the power struggle taking place within the tent.
"And unlike your gods, mine actually listen," I continued, refusing to look away first. Styr looked more intrigued than he did uncomfortable, so I had to up my ante. "My kind, witches," I elaborated to force my point, using the word in my mother tongue to emphasize it. "My gods favor us. So much that we can even beseech them, from time to time. If we are favored enough, if we say the right words and offer the right sacrifice, if our conviction is enough, and my gods are in a giving mood…well," I shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "Let's just say we usually get what we ask for. And I can assure you, Styr, I am very, very favored."
The corner of his lip twitched upwards and he leaned forward suddenly, elbows resting on his knees as the mug dangled forgotten in one of his hands, his eyes alight with intrigue. His larger form seemed to eat the space between us, and it took all the occlumency training Severus had given me to keep myself calm and unmoving as he was suddenly close enough to touch.
"And what would you ask of them?" He asked, a strange gleam in his eyes as he smiled at me. His teeth were strangely white and straight, I was just noticing, but I didn't let it distract me for long.
"I would ask them to aid me," I replied. "I would tell them of my troubles," a twitch of my own lips mirrored his as we both knew my troubles were him. "I would tell them of my fears, and I would beseech them to intercede on my behalf."
"And will they?" Styr asked, tilting his head as he studied me.
"Yes," I replied with as much surety and bullshitery as I could manage. Severus once told me that the ability to make someone believe a lie, was to convince yourself you are speaking the truth. So, that was what I did. I wrapped my mind around the lie, and I believed with all my heart and soul, that if I managed to gather all the ingredients, then I could convince my gods to put a stop to Styr's control over me. And as my 'gods' were magic…it didn't take that much to believe at all. After all, I had absolutely nothing but pure belief and faith in magic.
"Hmm," Styr huffed, leaning back once more in his chair. He set his mug on the floor next to him before bringing his hands up to lace them across his stomach, spreading his legs wide as he lounged comfortably. His blue eyes were fixed to mine as he studied me, gaze raking up and down my form as he took in the new style of my hair – braids more elaborate and decorated with many hoops, chains, and colored string – the ease in which I held myself, and the changes of my outfit.
Severus had impressed upon me the importance of appearance more than once. How one presents themselves could be far more important than any bloodline or skill. After all, he had made it quite far and high in the ranks of both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore even as a halfblood – and that whole revelation was quite a surprise, even if Severus decided to gloss over it briefly. So, I had started to make an actual effort in the mornings, using my magic to braid my hair in more elaborate styles until I finally found one that I actually liked, strapping the sword of Gryffindor on my hip instead of leaving it to be packed and summoned later if needed, standing tall and not allowing myself to cower before the much taller Thenns. I had even taken pains to add to my outfit.
I had crafted a chest guard made from the leftover dragon hide and decorated it with the many scales shed by the whelps that worked better than any bra or armor. It fit tightly over the serpent hide, the chest guard stiff from the many hardened layers of both dragon leather and spellwork, giving my breasts the support they needed – especially when riding – but also the protection I would no doubt need if I kept making enemies. And knowing my luck, I would be making a lot more enemies than I would friends.
An arrow wouldn't be able to puncture the serpent hide, but it would still hurt. The chest guard offered more protection, and I hoped it would be effective against the White Walkers as well. Their ice sword had sliced through the serpent hide like it was cotton and I had been lucky they had only swiped across my side and not plunged their blade in my chest like I had theirs.
It also had the advantage of at least giving me the mediocre bit of modesty. It covered my chest, fitting tight and molded to my breasts and ribcage. It ended where my sternum did, leaving the white serpent hide over my stomach and lower back exposed, allowing me to retain my flexibility. Bits of bone carved from the horns of the sea serpent made a line from my neck down my back like a spine, giving me extra protection while not hindering my movement.
It did have the added disadvantage of fixing my atrocious posture as it pulled my shoulders back. Severus was over the moon about that as he had remarked on my posture on more than one occasion. I just found it uncomfortable until I got used to it.
"And what would your gods do, exactly?" Styr asked with a light voice. My eyes narrowed as his amusement was plain to see. He was mocking me, but I bit my tongue to keep my Gryffindor response silent. I had to be a Slytherin to win this battle. My inner lion needed to stay caged while my snake came out and played.
"They would curse you, of course," I replied easily, letting myself ease back to mirror his comfortable pose. I didn't lounge quite as much as he did, but I allowed my back to rest against the chair, my arms to lay relaxed to the sides as I let my own drink dangle between careless fingers, and my legs crossed to let him know I was still not open to his advances. "Something horrible, but not life threatening, I am sure."
He chuckled at that and I fought to keep the scowl off my face. "Well, I'm almost excited to see what they will cook up."
"You shouldn't be," I cautioned, letting a glare slip through as the other guards started to snicker softly along with him. A slight cooling spell made the temperature in the tent drop by ten degrees and I saw one of the men grip his spear tighter. Good, I needed them to take my warning seriously if this was going to work. "I'll warn you this once, Styr," I didn't call him Magnar, I refused to offer him the respect of that title. "Leave me and mine be, or you will rue the day you ever mocked my gods. Because, despite what you think, gods are never ones to be mocked, no matter whose gods they are."
He wasn't smiling now. I didn't know whether to feel vindicated by him finally taking my threat seriously, or uncomfortable by the way he was now looking at me. It wasn't a glare, but it wasn't a leer either. I didn't know quite what to make of it.
Styr stared at me for a long time, so long that I had to consciously fight my body's reaction to fidget before he finally snorted. "Perhaps, perhaps not. We shall see," he said unhelpfully. I didn't know what to make of his words, but he didn't give me long to ponder them. "If I were you, I would be trying to get those dragons of yours under control, like I ordered you to."
If my glare could have killed, Styr would have been dead five times over.
"You're almost out of time, little witch. And I don't want to disappoint our new king," Styr nearly whispered the words, as if they were something intimate to be shared between us. I fought not to hex him right then and there as Severus' low rumbling growl was now loud enough to be heard by the others.
He nodded his head to one of the guards and I knew my time was up. If I wanted to be successful in my mission, I had to act, and it had to be now. The guard was approaching me as I tilted the mug in my hand and let the water cascade onto the fur covered ground. Moving quickly, I stood, mug in one hand and the discarded robe in the other. I took a moment and made a show of it as I walked around the seated Magnar to set the robe on the bed next to one of the slumbering women.
Styr was watching me curiously, an odd tilt to his lips. With a discreet flick of my wand, the mug flew back to the table, and just like I expected, all eyes followed the movement. Fishing the empty vial out of my robe pocket, I shifted the bear hide aside, my eyes immediately alighting on one of many wet stains on the bed. A quick spell and the vial was full and tucked away into my pocket as I turned and made my way back towards the exit and the one guard who still stood in front of it.
"You really should clean this place," I said with a sneer as I passed the Magnar, personifying Snape once more with each syllable spoken and movement made. Severus launched himself from the back of the chair and alighted on my shoulder once more. "It's disgusting in here."
Styr's amused snort followed me out of the tent as the guard slid to the side and I could finally breathe. The sun was nearly set, and torches were being lit as I made my way back to camp.
"Did you get it?" He asked as I wove through the different camps, letting the normal hustle and bustle calm my racing heart. "Hari, did you get it?"
"Yes," I replied quietly, feeling my hands shake as my fingers skated over the vial. A moment later I pulled them away in disgust. "I got it."
"Good," he said with a low mumble, the angry growling he had been doing since we entered the tent finally gone. "I never want to do that again."
"You and me both," I shivered in disgust now with just the thought of what was contained in the vial. "I'm going to need to bathe for hours to get my skin to stop crawling."
"Don't say that in front of the whelps," Severus chuckled softly in my ear. "You'll never get a chance if your too busy scrubbing them."
"Ugh," I grumbled in annoyance as I finally stepped into our camp. Loboda was tending to the fire while Ida tended to Chudley. Aslaug glanced up from where she was repairing her fur boot, smiling at me so brightly that for a moment, I forgot about all of my worries and let myself smile brightly back.
"Don't get distracted," Severus hissed in my ear as my heart fluttered lightly in my chest. "We aren't finished yet."
He was right, because of course he was. It didn't make it any easier though. I may now have all the ingredients needed, but I still needed to do something with them. The next few days were really going to suck. But tonight…tonight I just let myself get carried away with my little crush as I plopped myself down next to the girl who could be something and let her chatter wash away the disgust that my visit to the Magnar had left.
I hushed Severus whenever he grumbled in my ear about our plan. Afterall, the plan could wait one single night. It wasn't like a day would make a difference when we had already spent so much time just preparing for it. I had been chomping at the bit, so to speak, about getting this plan moving, as unlike with most of my plans, this one had started off slow. Slower than I liked, to be honest, and the anticipation between implementing it and actual results left me in a near state of buzzing anxiety.
Aslaug and I shared space as we breathed together, giggling between sips of something sweet but also definitely alcohol, and Canute finally left his family to come join us. He sat at my other side, still weary of Severus' presence, who after a while decided to find himself a perch away from all the 'teenagers' and their 'rampaging hormones'. I was pressed between them for hours, enjoying the night as it slowly creeped by and one after the other, we all went to bed.
I didn't sleep much that night, despite the alcohol, and that next morning we got started. I was a complete mess of nerves as the days passed, Aslaug's calming chatter doing little to comfort me after I had finally put our plan into action, but I hid it well…or at least I thought I did. It wasn't enough to fool anyone who actually knew me, but for the majority of the Thenns nothing about me had changed at all.
A blood curse was such an easy solution, both Severus and I almost looked completely passed it as I sat at my new table in our tent, blank paper strewn about the surface as I listed possible spells and Severus made a very poor attempt at sketching alternative plans. Ink and parchment were not a dragon's friend. It took hours to get the stains out of his hide.
The idea came to me as a joke when Severus mentioned in passing my atrocious luck and how unlikely it was for someone to be this unlucky. When he asked if a curse had been placed upon my family, I had laughingly said 'if only it were that easy'. Except…it was that easy.
A discarded cloth with blood on it easily stolen when the Magnar was sparring – he had wiped his cut with it before taking up his axe and smiling dangerously at the one who had gotten a lucky shot in – various plants both magical and not which wasn't as easy, but Severus was teaching me the amazing art of substitution, and one vial of…an unmentionable substance. Honestly, I still didn't feel clean even days after my pretend negotiations with Styr while I stole a vial of that.
Maybe I could get Severus to teach me that spell that makes people permanently forget things.
Collecting the said unmentionable substance will stay…unmentioned. I have never taken that many baths in one day. The dragons certainly enjoyed it, though they were less than enthusiastic about the cold river water. No amount of heating charms could ever fix the sheer freezing sensation of ice water. Next time, I was going to make my own little heated pool…or perhaps I could paint heating runes on? Maybe something like the ones on my face. Would that even work? A thought for another time.
After everything had been gathered, I was ready for the final step, the ritual itself.
"Are you certain you want to go through with this?" Severus asked as I kneeled before the fire. The others around camp were going about their nightly duties, except Ida who was sitting in the snow beside me. I had enlisted her help in setting out my supplies and now she was staring between me and the fire as she awaited my next set of instructions.
"Well, it's too late to back out now," I said in reply as I double checked the notes to make certain I had everything I needed.
"No, it isn't," Severus rumbled, his voice a growl in his chest as he tugged at a loop in my hair to get my attention. He shuffled down my arm once I turned to him, settling on the crook of my elbow so we could meet eye to eye. "Hari, it's not too late to turn back. Think this through before you commit. This is dark magic, maybe a slightly lighter side than most dark magic, but it is still dark."
I nodded my head slowly, both to let him know I was listening and to remind myself I had already committed to this path. As far as I was concerned, it was too late to go back. We were a mere two weeks away from meeting up with the rest of the Freefolk, I didn't have time to come up with another plan.
The dark magic did take me by surprise when Severus first explained it to me, and the consequences for delving into such kinds of magic. He had told me all about the rush I would feel, the feeling of euphoria that would envelope me when I was casting, and the addictive feeling that would follow after the curse was laid. Thankfully, Severus knew what to expect as he himself had delved into the darker arts when he was not much older than me. And wasn't that a doozy of a conversation.
Severus hadn't wanted to talk about it. Even if I couldn't tell from the emotions flooding over mine like a tsunami, his posture was a definite giveaway. Fins pressed close as his tail twitched in erratic little flicks, his eyes had darted to everything but me as he spoke of his shady past, the feeling of isolation that had overtaken him until he discovered how dark magic seemed to fill the hole that his best friend had left behind…a best friend who had happened to be my mother!
I wanted to ask him more about being friends with my mom, but even with my awful social skills I could tell that now really wasn't the time. But Severus knew that I would be bringing this conversation back up when the opportunity presented itself. The feeling of resigned acceptance was my only reply when I had decided to drop the topic for the moment.
Even with all the words of warning and knowing what to expect, somehow, I was still caught by surprise.
It started with the chanting; soft words spoken in Latin as I started the spellwork. A bloodcurse wasn't necessarily difficult, but it was time consuming. I also didn't need to do it in front of the campfire, but I needed to be seen 'speaking' to my gods. If the fire was good enough for the Seer, it was more than good enough for me.
Ida was an excited little helper, eyes wide as she handed me each item I requested. Most of it was for show, as the majority of the mixing and prep work had been done inside the privacy of my tent, but the last bit, the actual curse laying, was done while I also 'beseeched my gods'. I performed my little ritual – I should have started a career in acting, honestly, it was an award worthy performance – trying not to laugh as Ida flinched back from the fire as it changed colors and trying hard to ignore the curious people who were loitering around the edges of our camp.
The rush that flooded me left me breathless as I opened the final vial for the actual spell and threw it into the flames. I felt almost weightless, like gravity had dropped out from under me and I was floating in ecstasy as my body was flooded with warmth and joy and something that almost felt like home. I wanted to chase the feeling, tears welling up in my eyes as the feeling of being lost and homesick was gone for the very first time since I had been displaced.
The magic called to me, whispering seductively to me. It wanted me to dive a little deeper, go a little further. I was only doing a mild bloodcurse, something small that would inconvenience but cause no serious harm. But I was having a hard time remembering why I had decided to go this route. It would be so much easier if something were to happen to the Magnar, make it so he couldn't ever threaten me again…it would be so much better if he were to just disappear.
I almost fell into it, almost did the exact thing Severus had warned me against, but I was able to pull myself away from the addicting feeling by non-other than Ida. She hadn't done anything much, to be able to pull me away from the temptation of diving just a little deeper, but it was enough. She had looked up at me as I stared into the flames, listening to the dark whispers of the magic, and had said my name softly in a curious tone.
It was that, just that and no more. She had said my name so innocently that it cut through the whispers and I was able to pull away from the spell. Severus gave me a curious look, full of understanding and sympathy, as I blinked in confusion, glancing from the fire to take in my surroundings. More villagers had shown up while I had been lost in the curse laying, standing at the edge of the camp, and watching the now blue flames. After a moment, the flames returned to their normal color and I felt the euphoria of the dark magic leave me.
Shame filled me as the seductive feeling of the magic finally slid away, but Severus didn't let me linger on it for long. I rushed to clean up after the spellwork, dropping unused plants and empty vials into my bag – Hermione's bag – and standing quickly to retreat to my tent. I ignored Canute's worried call of my name and dodged Loboda's concerned glance as I let the seal hide drop into place over the doorway and let myself collapse into my cot. Severus curled himself into a tight ball in the space between my chin and collarbone, rumbling that quiet purr he still pretended he didn't do but doing it anyways because he knew how much it comforted me.
Tears came into my eyes as I clutched at the gaping hole that had clawed itself into my chest when that feeling of home was taken away. Severus' quiet rumblings of 'I knows' and 'you'll be fine' slowly drowning out my sobs.
I fell into a restless sleep that night, torn between beautiful kaleidoscopes of Hogwarts during the years I had known her halls, and the furious screams of my friends as they learned what I had done, the type of magic I had allowed myself to fall into.
Hermione was on the couch before the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, book in hand, and she refused to look at me. Ron, standing before me, telling me his mother wanted the sweaters back that she had knitted. Ginny would see me down the hallway, grab Neville and turn to leave. Luna was next to them, shaking her head sadly as she too left with them. Malfoy's laughter ringing down empty corridors, saying I should have accepted his handshake back on the train.
I had run, to get away from him and his laughter, to hide from my friends that thought they had to hide from me. The hallways twisted and turned and no matter where I ran, I always ended right back where I started, in Gryffindor tower with Hermione reading a book and Ron asking for his mother's sweaters.
Professor Snape found me there, on my knees and crying as Ron stood over me for the hundredth time. Covering my ears, I didn't want to hear what he had to say. My friends were enough, I didn't need to hear what he wanted to tell me as well. I flinched from him as he knelt down, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to look. His eyes met mine, so dark that they seemed to swallow the pupil, and his grip on my chin was anything but tender…and yet, the pain seemed to ground me.
"Enough, child," he said, grabbing my arm and forcing me to stand as he stood in front of Ron, who had started to ask for the sweaters again. "You've been tortured enough by others; there's no need to torture yourself as well."
I blinked at him, confused as he finally got me to my feet and towered over me. I couldn't remember the last time we had been this close without any animosity between us. The last time we stood this close, the tournament aside where he had been trying to keep me alive, was in detention. He had towered over me then too. I was taller now, but only just. My head still didn't reach his collarbone, but at least now I could meet his eyes without getting a massive crick in my neck.
Professor Snape released my chin as I met his eyes willingly, and his thumb swiped just below my left eye. "They're green…" he commented idly as I blinked at him in confusion. "You have your mother's eyes…had."
I sucked in a breath as I finally understood. This wasn't Professor Snape, this was, "Severus?" I asked cautiously as he lowered his hands and took a step back. Behind him, the Gryffindor common room began to fade, Ron's repeated request fading with it.
"Who else did you think I was?" Severus asked as he glanced around, taking in how the red walls started to melt into blue and between one breath and the next we were back in our little cave dug into the ice floor. I didn't realize until this moment how much I missed our small burrow. Steam licked up lazily from the pool as the water sun rotated just above it, casting dazzling light upon the walls in fractured prisms.
"Thought you were Snape – Professor Snape," I corrected with a shrug as I watched water languidly drip up from the pool into the water sun, Severus' fire still caught within the bubble of water. I didn't realize how that sounded until I saw his arched eyebrow. His expression said quite clearly that he thought I had said something stupid.
"I hope you do realize that I am Professor Snape," he began with that annoying curl of his lip that I had yet to master. "The magic must have affected you worse than I thought."
"No," I shook my head, heat flooding my cheeks in embarrassment. I had never had to explain to him before that I had thought of him as two different people. "No, I know your Snape…but you're also…not."
"Not?" He asked curiously, and I could tell he really was trying not to sound derisive in that moment. "How am I Snape and not Snape?"
I shrugged like that would somehow answer the question, but he only continued to stare at me in that way that wasn't a glare…but sort of was at the same time. "It's just…you're Severus!" He raised a single eyebrow at my outburst, and I felt my cheeks heat further. "That's not…I mean –"
"I believe I understand what you mean," he said softly, interrupting my ramblings. Thank Merlin for that. "To you, Severus is a small dragon who is helpful, and Snape is your dreaded teacher that terrifies you."
There was no inflection on the words, no emotion, and yet I could feel the conflicting swell of something that bubbled under the surface…his surface. I flinched at the surge of something that wasn't exactly hurt – but felt awfully close to it – crashed over me like a wave. "You don't," I whispered, stepping closer and back into the space that he had put between us. I reached up to grab the sleeve of his robe, the one that I recognized as mine now. The last time I had seen the sleeves, I had been burning them as useless scraps.
His robes were intact, the clothes he wore the ones he had died in. I could see the inside pockets that I had pilfered, the chain from the watch in his front vest, the letter from McGonagall peeking out next to it. I had buried his body in these clothes…except in this moment they were undamaged, blood-free, and he was unhurt. Guilt started to crash over me, and I had to breathe through the crushing weight of it. Now was not the time and now certainly wasn't about me.
"You don't scare me," I said, trying to sound more confident than what I felt as I gripped his sleeve to keep him from retreating from me again. "You might piss me off," I said with a wry grin. "But you don't scare me. You never did. It's just…it's hard to-to…" I trailed off, uncertain how to voice my thoughts into words. Severus remained silent, letting me gather my thoughts as he stood next to me, allowing my tight grip on his sleeve even though I could feel how uncomfortable he was.
"It's easier to think of you as two people," I said with my gaze fixed on the pool at our feet. I couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't say what I needed to if I had to look at him. "And it's easier to think of me as two people, too. There's the me before the tournament, and there's the you before the tournament. We were different then, not just in general, but to each other."
Severus hummed in that way of his where he wasn't really agreeing with me, but he was at least thinking about it. "You are less of a brat," he said, my head snapping up as his voice turned light, his lips doing that thing where he was almost smiling.
"And you are less of a bully…oh, no wait…no you're not," I smiled at him, darting away as he scowled. My laughter rang around our little cave and he snorted in what I knew was amusement though he tried to hide it. Darting to the little shelf that had served as my bed, I all but threw the bookbag at him. "It's your turn to read me something!" I said with a shout as I crawled on top of the dragonhide scraps, tore of my boots, and reached for the robe that wasn't there. Frowning, I glanced around but couldn't find it.
"What makes you think I will be reading you anything?" Severus asked, his voice tinged in annoyance as he held the bookbag in one hand while rummaging through it with the other. "You are hardly a little child to be pandered too."
"Because it's your turn! I'm the one always reading to you and the whelps, it would be nice if one of you would read to me for once…where is my robe?" I asked but realized a moment later that the robes I was looking for were the ones that Severus was wearing. Before I could do anything more than frown, black fabric collided with my face and I spluttered as I pulled it off only to realize that he had thrown the robes at me. Severus pulled out a book as he sat at the foot of the ice shelf, refusing to meet my eyes as he rolled up his sleeves, the fading but still dark tattoo on his forearm visible, but I didn't try to look at it.
I already knew what it was, and I knew how uncomfortable it made him to expose it. Just the fact that he was comfortable enough with me to not be bothered by me seeing it made something warm slither around my chest, leaving behind a soft but giddy feeling in its wake.
He flipped the cover open and began to thumb through the pages, ignoring both me and the odd feeling he no doubt had felt as well. I could feel a low twinge of embarrassment coming from him but only smiled softly as I pulled the robes up and didn't bring it to attention. Before all this, before the ice cave and the dragons and the tournament, I would have done everything to draw attention to his embarrassment…but the me before and the me now were decidedly different people.
Settling into the shelf, I laid down, pulling the robes up like a blanket, shuffling my cold nose into the fabric that I knew smelled like him even now, even after they had become mine, and let my eyes wander to the little hole that contained the unhatched eggs. I rubbed my sock feet together before pressing them under his thigh, ignoring his grunt of annoyance as I tried to chase away the dreamt sensation of cold.
"Chapter twenty-seven. Bloodvein is an uncommon ingredient when it comes to potion making due to its explosive tendency when combined with heat, but if handled correctly, it can greatly increase the potency of several healing potions. One of the –"
I dozed as his voice washed over me, smiling softly as he read from my potion's textbook. Of course, that would be the one he chose to read. My mind was held in that state for the rest of the night, not dreaming really…but drifting in the safe place he had made for me away from the achingly familiar halls of Hogwarts, the only home I had ever known, and the accusing words of my friends.
When I woke the next morning, I felt surprisingly rested despite how sluggish my magic felt after such heavy spellwork the night before. I also had an odd urge to brew a potion…but I knew that was left over from Severus' own desire. I wondered if he could recite the book because he had read it so often as to memorize it, or if it was because I had.
He still slumbered on my pillow, and I stroked his warm hide carefully so as not to wake him, before I had to get up to use the loo. My actions were for not as I was forced to shove Gemini and Hera aside to simply stand up, and their squawking not only woke Severus but the other dragons as well. Even though my tent was soundproof, I knew that soon the whole camp would awaken, as Loki darted out past the seal hide door with a loud screech.
Despite the commotion and angry grumbling coming from both inside and outside my tent, I couldn't help but laugh.
