The Stars on the Staircase

Poisonous Perdicaments Persist

   I fidgeted with my quill, running the sharp edge over my thumb  again and again. I was looking down at my parchment and waiting for him  to teach something worth writing down. Instead I was forced to listen to  his annoyingly sexy voice answer questions for the best student in our  class. Whether the kid was better at making potions or better at  crafting questions to show off his knowledge while seemingly having a  query that was always at best scantily related to the subject matter at  hand, remained to be seen. 

   I have snuck a peak at Severus four times during this class.  Every single time his eyes have found mine and I've snapped my eyes back  down to the ground. I thought this was supposed to be better after the  star's magic was quelled but instead I just have an overwhelming  awareness of him. It feels like the tether between us is crackling with  the truth of our sordid weekend activities. I am dragging the end of my  uninked quill under my fingernails and shifting in my seat, trying to  find the peace of mind I require to brew a potion. We are making a  poison today and they can be so volatile. 

   At last he moves on from Mister Perfect Potions Boy and is at  the black board. I dip my quill and ready my hand to take notes. He  begins explaining the connection between poison and poisonous  ingredients, the difference between brewing to bring out those qualities  or their other benefits. Most poisons have a collection of ingredients  whose poisons flourish at a similar temperature. We are brewing a hot  poison today. 

   Everyone must wear extra protective equipment, a mask that  covers our whole face with breathing holes through filters on either  side. They make the whole lot of us look like flies. We could use a  bubble head charm but in school, this is safer. You don't want someone's  focus breaking and their charm going awry when the room is full of  poisonous vapours. So we all pull our masks on and tighten the buckles  behind each other's heads. Talking is nearly impossible.

   Inside the mask I find a kind of quiet calm, separating the  beetle's wings and legs and depositing them into little piles. You must  do this right before things are all combined. The poison brews hot and  fast. It is all over in less than 20 minutes. I like how focused it  makes me, no outside thoughts can slip in, there is only bring the base  to a boil, separate the beetle into parts, warm your roots by the fire  then crush them under your pestle for a single drop of the juice. I'm  counting my five clockwise stirs that are to be done after each part of  the beetle has been added when my friend's cauldron explodes. 

   My friend is knocked into me with the force of it and I tip  sideways, falling into a chair which presses my mask away from my face  for the briefest moment. It was only a second but as soon as the air  touches my lips I start to choke on it and then my legs give out. On the  ground, my body begins to go paralyzed and but I can hear and see, just  having trouble breathing and swallowing without choking. 

   I can hear him instructing people to stay calm, to keep working  or else the rest of the cauldrons will blow up as well. As I lay on the  floor I realise he cannot come to help me, the tether means he can't  even get close. As my saliva pools to drip painfully down my throat I  wonder if this is how I will die and why the stars bothered to bring us  together at all. I want nothing more than him to be able to come to me.

   I vaguely see my cauldron being levitated over to  Mister-Know-It-All, Snape must be telling him to mind mine as well as  his own, I am levitated off the floor and toward the door. For some  reason choking on your own saliva is worse while airborne. He is sealing  the door with a permeable bubble and hauling my friend through by the  arm and I'm floating through ahead of them. As soon as we are in clean  air he puts me down on the ground. My friend is crying and panicking and  he is yelling at her in a way I have never seen him do before. There is  an absolutely ferocious tone to his voice as he shoves a small vial  into her hands.