The Princess and the Bloodstone

Black Coffee

The remainder of Saturday evening was spent pacing up and down the length of his office carpet, agonising over every conceivable plan the Dark Lord could have in store for Holly. It was early Sunday morning when Severus finally killed the torch in his office and ascended the hidden spiral staircase leading to his private quarters.

A mere two hours after breakfast, he was roused by a muffled boom of firecrackers resounding through the corridors overhead. It reminded him so much of Weasleys, that he was forced to get up. A dull headache had started to bloom behind his eyes. Severus blamed the inflexibility of the cover of The Heretical Warlock's Handbook on Dream Defences that he had unintentionally utilised as a pillow. He frequently fell asleep reading, only usually it was with lighter stuff – like paperback potion publications or some botanical text – who were much better company in bed. He rolled out of bed with a sigh, extending his arms above his head in a languid stretch that made his left shoulder joint give a satisfying pop. Although he was not especially hungry, he knew he would need energy for what he needed to achieve today so summoned a house-elf to bring his standard breakfast of oatmeal with a pinch of salt, two hard-boiled eggs and strong black coffee.

His private quarters and office previously belonged to Professor Swoopstikes and were located in a corner turret on the castle's eastern face. The rooms were circular with a high, cavernous ceiling. The tower's roof beams would have been shrouded in shadow were it not for a single pin of light shining from a small hole in the centre of the roof. The pin of light was currently resting on the spine of one of the innumerable books crammed into the curved bookcase dominating the entire wall apart from the alcove containing a writing desk and a large stained glass window with an arch leading to the wash closet.

The window of the turret was finely crafted with amber glass disks wrought together with black lead. It was cut into the cliffside a few meters above his office, which was submerged just below the freezing surface of the Lake.

Severus dragged himself into the rare yellow shaft of late morning sunshine on his desk and continued his research. The smell of damp pine needles carried through the glass and the icy water of the Lake lapped at the ancient stones of Hogwarts. He had hoped for a gloriously peaceful weekend, but instead, his workload had doubled. And on top of everything else, he could not stop mulling over the newest developments brought to light in Holly's last detention.

Shuddering and running his hand through his hair, he remembered with a lurch that he had implied his love for her– albeit cryptically – by admitting he still loved Lily and after providing solid evidence in the form of a corporeal Patronus identical to her own.

Dear. God. I'm a fool.

It made him cringe at how pathetic he must seem to her now. It was a moment of utter weakness with only unpleasant consequences to follow, undoubtedly.

But then she willingly came to me . . .

Severus traced his lips with an absentminded finger.

It was as if he could still see every detail of the scene: Holly hovering over him, drawing his hands to her face, taking his thumb in her mouth. Sleep-deprived to a point of near exhaustion, he had lowered his guard and lost control of the situation. He did not plan to compromise his delicate role in her life by acting on any feelings of attraction, no matter how powerful they were. No matter how tired he was.

Professors are trusted in positions of authority and, of course, they will sometimes be the objects of student fantasy. It came with the territory. He was both physically and emotionally more mature than her peers and in a position of power. It was natural for Holly to be curious about him, but boundaries were becoming increasingly blurred and he was starting to lose trust in the amount of sheer willpower he had left to fend her off.