The Stars on the Staircase

A Fertile Meadow Well Protected

Saturday morning I realised the professor and I had not appointed any particular time to try to meet by the lake. I had informed my friends that I would partake of my sometimes tradition of laying by the lake shore. It was a lovely sunny fall day, and perfect for it. 

I would cast a protective bubble to stop the cold wind from chilling my bones. My trip to the Great Hall with my friends was more to acquire treats I would eat by the lake rather than to properly eat breakfast. 

We were giggling about a boy who had been fumbling with my friend last night, sharing a private laugh at his expense for having trouble locating certain things on a girl. Suddenly the great bat  himself rounded the corner and I ran smack into him. 

My friends muttered the standard sorrys while I felt my face blanche. Just the smell of him brought back every tawdry second behind the tapestry. My cheeks burned like the sun as I  remembered his hot come exploding against me. "Let us all watch where we are walking, Ladies." He drawled, strolling away. "11:00"  He slid into my mind as he left.

"Merlin's sake! That man rounds a corner at top speed and has the audacity to ask us to watch where we are going?! What a prig!" I  say, to cover my embarrassment. They agreed, and we had a good laugh at how Professor Snape was indeed in the wrong.

In the Great Hall into my basket went a pain au chocolat, a sausage roll, and two vanilla scones. I filled my flask with coffee, cream and sugar. I stayed at the table and nibbled a slice of toast while my friends ate breakfast and tried to cajole me into going to Hogsmeade. Having successfully made them believe I have no spending money to spare, and looking at things to buy would only depress me (not really a lie) I set off to the lake with my basket.

I spread the brown plaid wool blanket out and removed my pile of pillows from the half of my basket enchanted to hold the approximate number of pillows a princess might require to sit on the ground and cast a bubble to keep the wind off.

For two hours I munch on my treats and sip. Try to read, try to write, and think only of him, and wait for him. I wonder why has my life taken this absurd twist, to be all about this man. He is right. This infatuation is more dangerous for me than for him. He is teaching the same lessons he has taught for years. He can go through motions where I  am hopelessly lost in clouds of him and I'm taking in a fraction of the information I normally do. 

I give into the tide and let my thoughts of him overwhelm me. In the sun, my body warm, relaxed, I try to reason things out. What did those moments of madness mean? And did they come from the sparks or are the sparks some kind of excuse?

Time must have passed a lot faster than I thought for sooner than I expected the back of my eyelids went from sun soaked orange to the darkness of something tall obstructing the light. I opened my eyes to see my bat, wings billowing in the wind just outside of my bubble.

"Good Morning, Miss." he says with his hair blowing slightly around his face.

"Good Morning, Sir." I return his formality, though, as I'm laying down with my dress spread out around me, it feels odd staring up at his looming form. 

"Can I interest you in gathering some ingredients with me? For extra credit, of course."

"I suppose I can spare the time." I try to appear elegant and un-flustered by him, as I stand. He casts a spell to pack my things causing me to trip as the blanket slides out from under my feet, and when I turn to face him he has my sausage roll in hand which he cheekily takes a bite of. "Rude." 

"Delicious." His eyes burn into mine for a moment before he turns on his heel and strides toward the woods.

"Give it back." I demand, hearing how petulant I sound and worse I'm halfway jogging to try to match his stride.