The Stars on the Staircase

Floo Powder and Forbidden Fruit

Sunday morning I woke with an extra pep in my step. I felt re-attuned to myself, in full control of my faculties and ready to find what my life looked like in the wake of almost a month of madness. Without the fog of lust I could really examine my feelings about things in a new light. I didn't wait for my friends to wake up to go down for breakfast. I had woken up rested and restless to get moving. I put on a comfortable but form fitting wool dress and a chunky cardigan against the chilly December castle, paired with black tights and shoes, and I examined myself in my mirror. I felt confident in myself in a way that was foreign to me. I chalked it up to my new advanced age. I had apparently received life lessons without personally having to live them.

I grabbed a book and made my way downstairs, a woman with a plan. I seated myself at the very front of the hall as close to where he sat as possible. I had even beaten him to breakfast. I took up my novel and read while I ate eggs, bacon, lovely crunchy potatoes and toast with jam. The fog had lifted and I was hungry in a way I hadn't been.

I devoured my book too, finding Lord Rhycliff and Miss Petersham even more spicy and riveting than usual. The Lord had somehow become more dark and brooding in my imaginings since I last touched the book. It seemed I was painting him with a touch of my Potions Master. I was so engrossed in it I jumped when I heard him in my mind.

"Good Morning."

"Good Morning ." I return.

"Come to speak to me?" He asked.

"No. How self centred, of you to assume." I tease.

"Oh, you just chose that seat right in front of me in an empty hall by mistake? Or just because you wanted to make me look at you?"

"Oh I supposed I thought we might have a chat."

"I thought as much. How are you feeling?"

I take a chance and peak at him over the top of my novel but he has cleverly blocked his face with the daily prophet. " I'm feeling great. The fog has lifted and I feel normal again. Do you feel normal again?" I ask.

"Remarkably." He answers. For a moment we are quiet. With the distance and our faces peering at things we aren't reading, both trying not to think the wrong thing. This is the moment that defines the new way we will communicate going forward. If the urges are gone, should we leave each other alone? Should we try not to talk? I must have wondered too loud because he answers "I don't want you to stop talking to me. However, it's prudent to try our best to go back to a professor and student relationship, now that it seems to be within our power to do so."

"Even though I'm apparently 29 and specially aged up to be your... whatever I am supposed to be to you?"

"You are my very special friend. Indeed, my favourite person in the whole castle."

"You are just saying that because you got laid."

"It had been a while before you, dear, let me be happy about it."

"So we are not allowed to pursue friendship? I have a public friendship with Flitwick and no one seems to mind. I've even sat alone with him in the Three Broomsticks and no one has even raised an eyebrow!"

"Interesting..."

"What's interesting?"

"Now that I think about it. You are his type. Both his ex wives looked exactly like you. Watch out, he may be plotting to ask you out after you graduate."