A Potion For Everything (Severus Snape x Oc)

Butterfly

Have you ever ran underneath a butterfly as it flys? It's an amazing feeling. Looking up. Seeing nothing but colors where the light streamed in. The wings themselves so thin. Like stained glass.

It's a marvelous feeling really. To follow such a creature. Running below it. Not caring about where you're going. Only caring about how long you can keep up with it.

Like the creature itself is leading you somewhere. And you must, as if your life depends on it. Not. lose. it. Don't take your eye off it for even a second. Beacuse if you do. The magic will be gone.

Moments like that. Ones that create the purest of joys. I find myself always thinking afterwords, I'm so glad I'm still here to be able to appreciate such beautiful moments.

That's what her lips felt like. It felt like the fleeting moment where sun shines through the wings of a butterfly. And all you can do it's stare at it. Till your entire body slows. Till your heart beats in times with it's wings. And you submit.

Severus wanted to submit. To give his soul, his magic, his mind, his body to this butterfly. Here, and now. He would pledge himself to her. But this would not be the binding contract out of desperation they made in the Malfoy's library. This would be as sacred as the first spoken spells. This would be as unbreakable as the mirror of erased. It would be.. as intracate as the patterns on the wings of a butterfly.

But as he pulled away. And stared into the eyes of the person he would so readily give his life to, for. One question truly haunted him. It made the moment crumble. He could already see the butterfly flying away. And taking with it. The absolutly mistifying magic it possessed in it's lips.

No the question was overtaking him now. He was unable to think of anything else. Even when he so desperately wanted stay cocconed in the warmth and safety of the moment prior. It was looming over him now. Repeating in his mind. Over and over.

"Why..?"

He said it. But he didn't fully register. Why meant many things. Why now? Why her? Why this? It was completely out of character. This vision of himself. A pathetic, questioning mess. He was always so sure of his actions. So sure of his desires. And so sure of how to sequester them. Why is it that now. Now he could not hold it back. This feeling of instinct. Of familiarity. And then it hit him. He had felt this once before for one and only one. Everything felt familiar. And yet. It did not. This was new. This was a pattern.

This was the dark lord trying to control him.

He let go of her. Yes. That is what it is. Simply a trick to keep him at Bay. A treat for a loyal dog kept just out of reach. None of this was real. It was magic. Playing on a lonely man's desire. It wasn't real. How could it be? She was just as much a monster as any of the Death Eaters. Oh she played the part well. But acting would only get her so far.

He returned to his desk. Sitting down. The skull hookah still there. The files. Still there. The room had not been touched say for the unnatural glow that had come and gone. And you could swear if you looked hard enough. You could see a bit of that glow in the dust on the floor. As if magic itself was so desperately trying to leave some trace of happiness in the room.

Viola remembered. She remembered smiling into the kiss. She remembered feeling safe under his form. She remembers thinking that this is what it must have felt like to not be so anxious. This was peace. She wanted to remember. Beacuse if she forgot. In this moment, only sadness would take over. That sadness she saw in his eyes when he questioned it. When he questioned her. When he questioned himself. And she would remember how the light that shown in dark eyes faded into nothing.

She began to move forward as he sat at his desk.

"Leave." He said softly. Viola heard him. Even in a whisper it was the most deafening sound. Like a dragon roaring right before it claimed your life as its own. But she did not stop.

"Leave." He said again. Not looking up but not looking at anything in particular either. He couldn't look at her. Beacuse if he looked at her. He would look at her with eyes that would want to take her. With eyes that belonged to another man beacuse surely, Severus would not, could not, look that way towards anyone. Let alone her. He wouldn't allow it. So he looked down.

He looked down but saw enough. He saw her body comes around the desk. He saw it boost itself onto the wood. He saw it sit there. On the edge as it craned it's head to look down at him. He felt her breath as she leaned down, moving a hand to turn the page of the file. He looked at nothing. So he saw nothing. But if he were to be paying attention. Severus would have noticed that the page, which was previously blank. As he had studied the files.inside.and out relentlessly all week. Was now. Suprisingly. Full.

Viola hopped off the desk. Taking her Hookah. And leaving without another word. The only sound that could be heard was her heals on the floor. Making that unmistakable sound that announced when a woman was walking. It wasn't something this room was used to at all. And yet. It sounded all the more forienge when it left.

What else was she supposed to do after that? There's no point in arguing over it. What happened. Happened. And in the moment it was wonderful. And so that moment will be kept.

She took out her wand. And a small little jar she swiped from her husband's office. And with the delicate hands of someone used to doing such a thing. She took the memory strand from her mind and placed it in the bottle. She was so often worried she would forget the good things that happened to her. That she would bottle them.

It wasn't an uncommon thing. Bottling memories. But it was what she bottled that could be seen as strange. Many who did it, bottled things like weddings. The birth and aspects of the life of a child. Things like that. Key moments. But viola bottled snippets. Feelings mostly. Smells. Touch. Sensory memories.

Things she was convinced she would forget easily. And often she did. The feeling of something. The smell of something. It's hard to hang on to these things. It's hard to relive them. But through magic. She would always have these beautiful little moments tucked away. It was in a way. Self preservation.

And now, in a sudden feeling of boldness. Viola walked the hall adjacent the lawn she and Severus were previously sitting. Made her way back to the blanket. And decided it was just too beautiful out to leave such a world. Giving it up for a cold and dark appartment.