"You need to talk to your godfather," Ron moaned, so despondent he put down his fork full of spaetzel. "And soon."
"I've tried," Harry said desperately. "He won't see me, or anyone else for that matter. Says he doesn't have the time."
"I'll say. Between his class load and the detentions he's hosting every evening, I can't even figure out when he sleeps." Ron managed to get over his despondency to a sufficient degree to help himself to more sausage and sauerkraut.
"What's he having them do, anyhow? It's like he's raising an Army," Ginny said, with a wink at Harry.
"Oh right, you haven't had the pleasure of his displeasure lately, have you? We're all doing a bunch of preparations for different variations on potions, tossing in a few new things from America or putting stuff in terra cotta cauldrons instead of iron. Tedious stuff, because every ones almost the same, but different, so you can never just repeat things. You actually have to measure every single component individually. It's a real mind-bender, tedious and non-repetitive at the same time."
"What's the theory behind it?" Hermione asked, now intrigued. "Which potion are you working on and how's he changing it?"
Ron stared at her with aggravation. "I have no idea. He doesn't lower himself to confide that to us."
"Well, can't you tell from the components, or is it ones we've never done before?"
Ron looked over at Harry. "I think she WANTS detention now. That's sick." He looked up at the clock and put down his fork. "You'll need to do something major in class to get detention. Like look at him sideways. Should be easy, even for you." He grabbed his bag and headed down to the dungeon, for another extended evening of measuring, weighing, labeling, and cleaning under the cold glare of Severus Snape.
Morgan Hunter sat alone in her sitting room, staring into the fireplace as the coals burned down. She was exhausted. Now that Professor Snape had gotten student volunteers to assist in preparations, the volume of work they were doing was astounding. She'd never seen anyone so focused and so dedicated. By the time she'd finished her classes, he would have already started a new series. She joined him, working right up until dinner time, and over the weekend, as well. He seemed to want to tackle every potion from both continents within the year (now really only 9 months). While this suited her purposes, it was physically and mentally draining to execute.
Ah, but the results! She smiled to imagine them. They would start testing some of the better formulae as soon as they could figure out a good way to recruit volunteers. House-elves were out, as they didn't respond to potions the same way as humans. Using students raised a tricky set of ethical issues of coercion, as did prisoners in Azkaban. Involving the staff seemed unwise, given the consequences to the school should something go amiss. They did what they could to characterize the results from observation of the products, but practical testing would be proceeding far slower. The plan was to recruit ordinary wizards and witches from Hogsmeade, but how they would compensate them was a mystery. The school had almost no money, according to the Headmaster, and everything was being used to rebuild.
The pace of repairs had accelerated recently, with a new round of glassmakers being employed to fix the many windows that had been smashed out. It was a sight to behold, to watch them wave their wands and mutter spells and see thousands of tiny bits of glass rise from what had appeared to be gravel and reform into panes. Many were still incomplete, and the speaking of further spells was needed to fill the frames. In the US, wizards and witches with such skills were among the wealthiest of the crafters, due to the scarcity of the talent. The ones who could create beautiful designs with colored glass were the most sought after, and Hogwarts had at least six such wizards and witches on the grounds for the past week. Although the windows were lovely, with the low-hanging sun shining through scenes of Quidditch victories by each house, the battle of Hogwarts showing the house-elves joining the defenders, and a series of scenes of merpeople, Hunter knew that they each cost a fortune. Perhaps this school had a larger endowment than the Sedona school, which was considerably more recent than the Salem Academy, which was far more recent than Hogwarts.
She considered the likelihood that funds would be available next year for her to stay on. She was of two minds. One, the school was spending too much and there would be nothing left. Or two, there was some large endowment that would be available for hiring once the repairs were completed. Given the rather modest nature of most meals and the overall shabbiness of the place (war damage notwithstanding), she supposed it was the first.
With that in mind, she steeled her determination to match Snape's capacity for work and to get as many publications and speaking engagements as possible this year and deal with next year later.
Snape attempted to fill his mind with work, the better to smooth over the newly-raw wounds opened by that ignorant Muggle, Petunia Dursley. Of course he had recognized the risk of having her and her hideous offspring present at the Binding, but rules were rules and couldn't be put aside except in the most extreme circumstances. The condition of being obtuse was hardly unprecedented, even within the Magical community, though markedly more common among Muggles, he mused. His patience at an end even before breakfast most days, he looked for comfort in the simple pleasures of assigning detentions on these evenings when the outside weather was at its most desirable. The students, particularly the older ones, enjoyed the earlier dusk, the better to find shadows and warmth with one another. Disrupting that nonsense should have improved his mood, but neither detentions nor romance interrupted brought him any measure of relief.
His time executing the research plans were welcome respites, demanding his full attention and taking him away from thoughts of Lily. The requirements of exact timing, precise measuring, consistent brewing left little capacity to think of other things. What effect this might have on his collaborator had yet to occur to him as he attempted to sustain his maximum efforts for as long as possible before being forced to stop for the day and take in dinner. Between the meal, the detentions that followed, and the brief time before sleep overtook him, he still had more time to think than he wanted. The old familiar feelings of remorse and strategizing constantly now fit him more poorly than before. For what would the end be? What was he working for now? Yes, better potions, but then what? Decades, perhaps even a century, of sameness lay before him, empty and predictable.
Indeed, as predicted, after several weeks of extensive potion-making arrays, the storeroom was becoming depleted. An excursion to the Forbidden Forest would be needed and the Autumnal Equinox by the full moon presented an optimal opportunity. Snape found himself in an unfamiliar mood of pleasant anticipation. It had been some time since he had had the opportunity to forage at leisure and the concurrence of the equinox and full moon promised full potency for several items that favored moonlight.
The Potions Master prepared his sample case with clean vials, clippers, a small spade, a notebook, and other tools. A turn in the forest at night was just what he needed to relax and prepare for the remainder of the work ahead for the fall term.
Hunter met the evening with a mixture of considerable fatigue and warm anticipation. Having completed a full set of preparations combining Old World and New World formulas, she was now eager for her introduction to one of the most crucial aspects of Potion-making, the retrieval of the most active ingredients. While books and recipes could form a basis for knowledge, nothing could replace the experience of hunting and gathering the items by hand. This was a crucial aspect of moving from a mere potion mixer, following others' instructions using purchased materials, to a true Master or Mistress of Potions. Identification, location, related species, all played a role in the quality of the resultant formulation. She mentally prepared for what would surely be a full night of new information.
Hunter needed to hurry to keep up with the long, purposeful strides of her collaborator as he strode out into the night, well-lit by the rising moon. Usually taciturn, even more so lately, tonight he was in full lecture mode, releasing an almost endless stream of facts and observations. She tried to listen, observe, and retain the information, but it was coming at such a pace, she found it difficult to retain much.
Now they were getting deep into the forest. The previously brightly-lit paths were now darkened by the tall, dense trees and thick leaves. Hunter, who was more accustomed to sunlight or open desert lit by starlight than dense forests in the darkness, was anxious to keep close to Snape, knowing she would find it difficult or impossible to find her way back alone. She'd also heard tales of the creatures of the forest from the rest of the staff and didn't care to meet them alone, disoriented in darkness. She kept feeling for her wand, appreciating its reassuring presence.
After some time, with Snape's sample jars beginning to fill, they arrived in a small clearing that allowed more of the light from the moon, now directly overhead, to illuminate the scene. In this remote part of the forbidden forest, Hunter at last stopped to observe her companion as he continued to gather items from the perimeter of the clearing, as well as to catch her breath.
By the light of the full moon, he was a man transformed. His skin, sallow and pale in sunlight and the torches of the castle, now glowed as if from within with a silver radiance that was captivating. His hair, unkempt and greasy, now was wild and glossy. His robes, intimidating in the halls of Hogwarts, now seemed to flutter on the soft moonlit breezes. This was a man meant for the night.
Snape seemed not to notice she was no longer beside him as he continued his ongoing lecture on the properties and uses of the things around them.
"This patch of dittany and wormwood are well-situated to cross-pollinate and grow together, which strengthens both their properties. I'll take a few shoots to keep and then bury a some seeds to increase the growth. By next summer, we'll be able to harvest enough to make Elixir of Erised enough for the entire staff." He replaced the now-filled vial in the case, shook some seeds out of a seed pod and buried them near the wormwood.
Hunter was taken aback by the rapid evolution of her feelings, the change of her perspective. She had grown to respect him, his talent and skill, his deep understanding of potions and potential held within each part of a formula in a way no other witch or wizard she'd even encountered had an inkling of. But this was new, this attraction. It was more than intellectual, more than professional.
For the past few weeks, she been continually impressed by his knowledge and skill, not to mention his stamina in the labs. She lay down exhausted every evening, her head awash in the layers of her days. Classes, exams, grading, the research. She needed to work on lectures to deliver at the other schools later in the year, but found little time to prepare.
As she continued to observe him carefully, she noted that he radiated from within and she was captured in his spell. Was it a spell? She stopped to consider this, but could not find evidence of Magic having been placed upon her. Utterly distracted from her gathering and hunting, she sat down the moonlit clearing amongst a patch of small blue flowers and silently watched him as he collected bark here, leaves there, insects and worms, and flowers elsewhere. Each movement was fluid and efficient, items placed into vials and replaced in pockets. After what seemed to her like an eternity, and an eternity of yearning, he turned and gave a small involuntary jerk as he noticed she was no longer near. He turned around and strode back to where she sat in the clearing.
"Ah, you've found the midnight bluebells at their most potent at a full moon on the equinox."
She had not taken notice of the flowers around her before and she did not now. She met his gaze squarely, her heart pounding as she realized the depth of her feelings. This man was the one. Her destiny, her match. Whatever his odd manners, she was captivated by his mind, how much they shared in Potion-making, and now by his being. She could imagine herself through the years, working side by side during the days, lying side by side for the nights. Was she projecting her fantasy on a man she knew but little of? No. She felt as though clarity was suddenly hers, that all questions were gone.
She gestured beside her, beckoning him to join her there with the bluebells. Casting a doubtful glance, he sat, but did not recline or relax.
"Are you tired, Professor Hunter? We have enough of what was depleted. We can return to the castle if the late hour does not agree with you." He eyed her inquiringly.
Drinking in his nearness, she was in heaven. His face, still aglow, so near her own. His scent, redolent of the blendings and brewings from the lab, mixed with the night air and the perfume of the forest itself to excite her inner senses. She closed her eyes to better savor the many sensations washing over her in this moment.
"You are sleepy," he said crisply. "We should return. Even without the morning class of Potions, you'll be tired. Come, let's head back." He made to stand, but she put a hand on his arm, restraining him not with force, but with suggestion. To touch him seemed like an offense, the crossing of an unseen barrier. His demeanor previously had always been so prickly, she had kept a good distance between them. She felt him stiffen under her touch, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Severus," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper, though there was no one anywhere nearby to overhear.
Of course she'd used his given name before, but not with this tone, not with such a welcome invitation before. No one had ever spoken to him like this, though he recognized what the tone implied. He was temporarily stunned.
"Let's stay," she said. Her hand, now on his arm, drifted upward to his face. Touching him this way, she felt a jolt of electricity through her arm and down to her toes, and up through her forehead. Emboldened by his not pushing her away as she had expected, she now put her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her as she lay back among the flowers in the moonlit clearing. As she gazed up at him, the moon aligned just behind him, and she delighted in the confluence of his handsome radiance and the full orb glowing just behind him. He seemed at an impasse, neither moving toward her nor pulling away. Slowly, the space between them grew smaller. At last her lips met his.
He was warmer than she'd expected, his mouth matching hers as he returned her kiss. Soft and tender, as though he was afraid to damage her. He was barely moving, as though he was unsure of what to do, though giving no sign of retreat. She found that she would probably need to take the lead, and she touched his cheek with her fingertips, which he reached up to touch as she did so, still so silent, his look one of detachment and restraint, despite the raging intensity that was growing inside her. She felt the rush of her blood in her ears as his hands found her face, his eyes closing slightly as he did so. His kiss, as first gentle, tentative, now became more forceful, and she returned the forcefulness, delighting that her feelings seemed to be mutual.
"Oh, Severus," she groaned, and pulled his waist nearer to her, as his kisses moved from her mouth, to her cheek, and then met her shoulder. With a sudden quick movement, she turned him to his back. She expected his surprise, some resistance, but he offered none, only allowed himself to be thrown over, to be covered by her, lying on his back, her hair drifting across his own, a confused and startled look on his face. She stopped and paused to look at him, to admire him in the night, her rapid breathing now shallow and hoarse, as was his. His face, his long hair tangled with the blue flowers in the moonlight, was more than she could bear, more than she could have imagined. She touched his face, exploring the planes of his cheeks, his chin, his nose, his forehead. Tugging up three of the bluebells in a tiny bouquet, she lay them on his chest. leaving them on his shirt as she attempted to unbutton his jacket.
"Morgan," he said, breaking his silence.
"Yes, Severus," she replied, breathlessly.
"Do Midnight Bluebells grow in the US?" he asked flatly, as she continued to fuss over these stubborn buttons.
Although this was not the conversation she was expecting, she replied factually. "No, I've never seen these before. They are beautiful in the night, like you." Her fingers seemed not to work, the buttons uncooperative.
The mood changed rapidly. Snape sat up with a jerk and tossed the flowers off his shirt. "Never? You've never seen these flowers before? Are you sure?" he asked, a clear note of concern in his voice.
Though now a little off-balance, she was not dissuaded from her purpose. She lay down next to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "No, never. Stop talking, Severus, and…" She tried to draw him closer yet again, but now he resisted.
"Professor Hunter, we need to return to the castle now," he said definitively, allowing no debate, a final decision.
She eyed him in confusion. They had been having such a nice time a moment ago, she had such hopes. "No," she said simply. "It's so nice here. With you. Let's stay." She put her arms around his neck, pulling him down towards her again. But this time, he resisted, pulling up strongly against her grip. He stood and fastened the leather strap to close the vial case.
"We need to return," he said. In one swift, strong motion, he gathered her up in his arms and began a fast-paced walk back towards the castle.
Hunter shifted from confusion and was now overjoyed. She pulled herself closer to Snape, enjoying the strength of his embrace and the feeling of being literally swept off her feet and carried away. As much as she enjoyed the forest and the moonlight, she looked forward to the events to come as he continued rapidly back towards the castle, bathed in moonlight, only a few winks of candlelight from within the castle at this late hour. They emerged from the forest and circled the lake, Hunter still clinging to him, overjoyed at this most unexpected but delightful turn of events, nearly giggling with anticipation as they approached the front doors. What would the rest of the night hold? After their passion in the forest, the tenderness of his kiss, the rising emotion, what would the rest of the night indoors hold? Her mind raced, imagining the possibilities.