A quiet tension stretched between them, something neither addressed as they stood there in the near-empty common room, the flickering fire casting shifting shadows on the stone walls.
'Formalities. Keep it formal,' Sia reminded herself.
"Happy Christmas," she said, her voice level.
Severus inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Happy Christmas."
His dark eyes flickered from her to the book open before her, lingering on the thick parchment and dense, spidery text. "Would you mind if I read that with you?" He hesitated for the briefest moment before adding, "It's large enough for the table, and we can sit side by side."
Sia blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to ask-especially not when he'd been so careful to keep his distance these past weeks.
She glanced at the book and then back at him. Why not? She had barely made sense of the first few pages, and if she was being honest, his help would be invaluable.
"Only if you help me understand it properly," she said, tilting her head.
Severus's brows lifted, as if surprised she admitted needing help. He nodded. "Agreed."
Wordlessly, she shifted the book onto the table, motioning for him to sit. He did so, careful, measured in his movements, keeping a small but noticeable space between them.
But as soon as his eyes locked onto the text, something in him shifted. The hesitation faded, replaced by sharp, consuming focus.
Sia tried to ignore the way her own awareness of him heightened. She had to focus-this book was far too complicated for distractions.
The Art of Potion Invention
The book, The Art of Inventing Potions, was not written for beginners. The first chapter alone was filled with intricate theories on molecular magical bonding, interactions between unstable ingredients, and how spells could influence brewing outcomes.
Key Principles Introduced in the Book:
Ingredient Transmutation: The properties of ingredients can shift unpredictably when combined under unstable conditions, which is why experimentation must always be done with precise calculations and prior testing.
Safety Measures: No invention should be attempted alone. Testing should occur in small, controlled batches, using neutralizing spells as a precaution.
Magical Stabilization: Some ingredients resist blending-requiring either catalysts, special stirring techniques, or reinforcement through wandwork.
Effect Variation: Even the slightest change in temperature, stirring direction, or timing could shift a potion's effects from beneficial to lethal.
Theory of Conceptual Brewing: Advanced potion-makers do not just mix ingredients-they consider the intention behind each potion. Magic responds to will as much as to method.
Sia frowned as she reread a particularly dense paragraph. Inventing potions requires an understanding of magical structure beyond traditional brewing. To alter an effect, one must not only substitute ingredients but restructure the interaction of magical properties at a base level.
It made sense in theory, but applying it? That was another matter entirely.
Beside her, Severus had gone utterly still, his gaze sharp as he absorbed the words. Then, after a long pause, he exhaled.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "It explains why some experimental potions explode despite stable ingredient ratios. The magic itself rejects the combination."
Sia huffed, rubbing her temple. "It's still too abstract. How do you restructure magic? You can't just-reshape an ingredient's nature."
"Not directly, no," Severus said, leaning forward slightly, his voice gaining an edge of excitement. "But you can alter how it reacts to other components. That's what stabilizers are for. Think of it like... influencing the behavior of magic rather than brute-forcing a change."
Sia gave him a skeptical look. "And how would you apply that?"
Severus smirked faintly. "Think about Draught of Peace. If you add too much powdered moonstone, it becomes lethal. But if you layer in crushed asphodel at precisely the right moment, it neutralizes the toxicity without compromising potency."
Sia's lips parted slightly. That was true-her father had mentioned something similar once when explaining potion balancing, but she had never connected it to broader theory.
"Alright," she admitted. "That does make sense. But what about this part-"She tapped the paragraph on Conceptual Brewing. "This whole 'intention influencing magic' sounds-well, suspiciously close to Divination."
Severus scoffed. "It's nothing like Divination. It's simple magical theory. Have you never noticed how a potion reacts differently depending on the brewer?"
She frowned, thinking. "It shouldn't. The ingredients remain the same."
"But intent affects spellwork," he pointed out. "Potions are not purely chemistry-they are alchemy. Your focus, your intent, it all shapes the result. That's why mediocre brewers can follow a recipe exactly and still fail, while true masters-" He paused briefly. "-adapt their brewing instinctively."
Sia thought back to her parents, to how they always seemed to know how to fix a potion that was going wrong, even when she couldn't see the mistake.
Severus was right.
She exhaled, leaning back. "Alright. I see your point. But how do you actually measure something like intent?"
"You don't," he said simply. "You feel it."
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.
She shook it off, flipping to the next section. "Fine. But this is still frustratingly vague. I need concrete steps."
For the next thirty minutes, they worked through the text together.
Sia struggled through the dense explanations, while Severus, despite his insistence that he only understood half, grasped the core concepts with unnerving ease. He explained the stabilizing principles, breaking them down into practical application.
And when she finally made sense of the last portion, it clicked-memories of her parents' teachings slotting into place.
"That's it," she muttered. "That's why potion invention is so dangerous. You're not just altering ingredients. You're rewiring the entire process of brewing itself."
Severus nodded, looking pleased. "Precisely."
Sia sighed, running a hand through her hair. "No wonder so many experiments fail. And no wonder we're not allowed to do this yet."
"That," Severus said dryly, "has never stopped me before."
She huffed a quiet laugh.
Then, as she turned the page-her stomach growled.
The sound was loud enough to break the trance of concentration, and she blinked, realizing for the first time how much time had passed.
She looked at the clock on the wall.
"Four hours?"
Severus followed her gaze, and for the first time since they'd sat down, an awkward silence settled over them again.
"We missed lunch," she said, dazed.
"Seems so," he replied, tone carefully neutral.
She glanced at him, noting the way his shoulders had tensed, as if suddenly realizing just how much time they had spent together, how easily they had fallen into conversation.
And for some reason, the knowledge made her stomach flip for an entirely different reason than hunger.