Severus and the Skye

9

I kept my promise and the moon watched as I plunged as deep into her as possible, my fingers trailing her body and gripping her neck as she moaned my name into the night. Her legs shook and her mouth pleaded, I didn't stop until we were both exhausted and somehow, neither of us were sated. Her back bore the shallow scratches from the stone, while mine bore the deep welts and scabs of her nails.

As she bent over the stone sill I wrapped her hair around her throat and pulled her flush with my body. Her back arched and the angle allowed me to see every moonlit feature and every shadowed curve, ecstasy.

My spirits are unusually high this morning, the taste of her still on my tongue and the marks of our time still carved into my skin.

The few students left in the Great hall cast suspicious looks at me, the gossip has greatly increased since the dance. The rumors of my vampirism have been replaced with colorful stories of my love life. Before Skye's return it would have driven me mad but now the words slide off my back like water.

I realize she isn't waiting for me at the Head table, no smile is cast my way over the shoulder of conversation. I take the seat next to Dumbledore, the other staff having already been and gone, "Has Miss Fox already had breakfast?"

"Good Morning Severus. Yes, Miss Fox has already had breakfast and will return shortly from her run to Diagon Alley with Mr. Lockhart."

My jaw clenches, "And may I ask why she needed to accompany him?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"From what I gather she was already going," Dumbledore answers simply.

I hum, the sound unagreeable and sharp, "Hopefully she returns before class. She handles brewing demonstrations with more patience than myself."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Indeed she does," he smiles at me and the twinkle in the old man's eyes is as bright as ever.

"How long is Mr. Lockhart staying?" I ask, a clipped question.

"He wants to do a book signing for the students before his departure and stop in each class for a presentation," says Dumbledore, his enthusiasm as dull as my own.

I spear the last bite of egg left on my plate with my fork, "Preferably that all happens today."

"Don't do anything daft Severus," Dumbledore says but the tone of his voice lacks warning.

I don't respond, I won't make a promise I can't keep.

My first class manages to only destroy one cauldron, green liquid floods the table and fills the room with the vile smell of burning moss. The rest of the class surprises me by helping maintain the destruction and by helping the student restart and finish his potion. They ask about Skye and I assure them she will return.

It has only been a month and the impact she has made is immense.

She returns midday after two more classes have surprised me with no accidents, no destroyed cauldrons. She enters the classroom all smiles and excitement. My instant reaction is to pull her to me and cradle her face in my hands but I don't rush forward or turn to greet her, as much as I hate the jealous rage burning under my skin, I can't maintain an unbothered facade. Luckily the next class doesn't start until after lunch.

"How was your trip with Lockhart?" I ask, my fingers curled around the edge of my desk, my knuckles white, my shoulders hunched.

Her steps pause, "Severus?"

I feel her hand on my shoulder but I still don't turn. She scoots around the desk and leans down to face me, "Are you alright?"

I drop my face and speak through clenched teeth, my jaw ticking, "All that talk about how insufferable he is and yet you run off with him without so much as a word!" I shout the last bit, my anger seething.

Her eyes widen as I jerk my face back up to meet hers, I hadn't noticed the small package clutched in her hands, wrapped in brown paper, "I- Severus," she stammers, "I didn't go for him."

There's pain in those blue eyes, tears swimming just below the surface as she gawks at me, pain and tears I caused. She thrusts the package toward me and drops it between my arms, "I ordered this through Flourish and Blotts months ago and it finally arrived. I got it for myself but thought it was more fitting that you should have it."

I didn't touch the package and I didn't respond, instead I let the rage consume me, quietly and with no thought of remorse.

"Severus, please," she pleaded, the tears now staining her cheeks, "I swear there's nothing between us!"

The crack in her voice, the pulling sound of her begging me to believe her, it smothered the wrath. In an instant the raging fire was nothing but hot smoke. My jaw unclenched, the muscles stretching and throbbing with relief. If anyone is worthy of my rage, it isn't her. I drop my head again and draw in a deep breath, my eyes on the package beneath me, "I'm sorry. Even the thought of someone else touching you makes me murderous," I admit, raising my face again.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks, the flush on them raging against the red and blue in her eyes. She slides her hand over my face, her thumb grazing my cheek with gentle strokes, "I cannot see a future where anyone but you touches me," the calmness in her voice sends a shiver down my spine.

Her lips tip up and her shoulders slacken as if a great weight has been lifted, I can't help but mirror her. My body loosens and my fingers release the desk, "I'm sorry," I say again, "You have become my gravity and I refuse to float away."

The blue pools of her eyes shimmer. Little does she know she's always been my gravity, the very thing that keeps me rooted in this world. I revolve around her.

The next class starts to pour in and the package and our row are forgotten. The last classes of the day go by with no difficulty because Skye is there to balance out the dunderheads that inhabit them and my temper.

At the end of the day I retrieve the package as Skye makes her way to dinner. Once alone I pluck the tape from the corners and pop the paper open. I slide the book from its wrapping and examine it. The same front I've seen a thousand times looks back at me, Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage.

The edges are worn and the cover aged, the pages have been bent and discolored by the fingers that had used it. I open the cover, my fingers sliding over the thinning pages. I open the cover, looking for what made this book unique and see a faded slant of a signature. Libatius Borage's signature.

I slam the book shut, my heart racing in my chest. She managed to get a signed copy, probably one of only a few, if not the only. It may even have belonged to him. Though the book is now used widely in wizarding schools Borage wasn't one for signing and making a spectacle of himself, unlike Lockhart.

She got it for herself, for her love of the craft but she gave it to me.

I pull the notes for my memory potion, stuffed under another stack of papers on my desk. I'm so close, close enough that I could possibly perfect the brew by the end of the week but this new thing that's flowered, perhaps it is worth cultivating. She looks at me the way she used to, her eyes full of longing and need. My name blossoms on her tongue like roses and honey. Everything that had been ripped from me has started to be stitched back together in a different shape.

I skip dinner and return to my room to continue my work. I may not use it for the original purpose with which I set out to create it but I can still assist others who are caught in the same wretched predicament.

I run my hand through my hair, the sweat forming on my brow as I add one ingredient to one cauldron and stir the other. One brilliant yellow vial, the color of the sun, is ready to be sent. The second, still bubbling as I scoop enough for the circular bottle, is the color of Skye's eyes. Both radiate great possibilities. I tie each vial to Juniper's legs and gift her with a dead mouse for the trip. Her golden eyes meet mine as I send her on her way.

Darkness had long settled outside, the noise of the forest and its many creatures echoing from within it. I listen for a moment before shutting the window. As the outside noise is muffled a new one from inside sounds, a knock.

I cross the room, baffled by who would be calling at this hour. I expect blue eyes to be smiling at me when I open the door, too much drink leading her to my door.

When I pull open the door, there are blue eyes on the other side, but these are pale and wide behind half moon spectacles, "We have a problem," says Dumbledore and my heart plummets to the floor.