A Potion For Everything (Severus Snape x Oc)

Snowflake Stars

The bed was canopy style. Black curtains were not of muggle making. As they shielded out all known fractls of light from the outside. This was essential. True, black hole darkness was the key ingredient to activate the true magic behind this structure.

It was written out in full detail in Hogwarts a History. How the ceiling of the great hall was bewitched to look like the night sky. It was a rare bit of magic that helped the school of witchcraft and Wizardry stand out. Severus was always fond of it. It always seemed to be in tune with his feelings. But most importantly, he liked it when it snowed. He was such a sickly child. His mother hated it when he went out into the cold. But, at night, when no one was around for the holidays in the great hall. He could steal away. Laying on one of the long tables. And look up at the sky. And watch it snow. It made him not feel so alone.

When Viola woke up to find herself in the bed, though there was no one beside her. She didn't feel alone. For the black canopy bed was littered with the night sky. Every side and the ceiling was a canvas for stars and nebulas. She reached out her hand to touch the magical projection, and when she did. Her fingers altered the patterns. And stars went through them like the ripples of water in a pond. She giggled to herself as the stars enveloped her hands. Standing to feel them around her. It was like little snowflakes touching her body but not melting. Simply bouncing off her.

Severus couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard her laugh. She had a melodic tone in her voice that only came out when she was happy. Bells. It always sounded like bells. The type you would hear on great elk during Christmas. It made one think of warm blankets by the fire. Hot chocolate. And the ever present smell of balsam pine. It felt. Home. Like what a home should feel like. Full of life and purpose. Something he never had. Something he didn't deserve.

He stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Watching the bed frames move as he could only imagine the ballet she was performing inside of it. How on earth did he allow her to do this to him. He found himself more often then not now utterly cracking. The emotionless visad was his greatest defence to the outside world. But something as simple as her laughter, could break every defence he had. And he let her.

He looked down. Allowing the fabric to run through his fingers. Light. Airy. Something she could play in. He had always made his own clothes. With magic it wasn't hard. However, making something for her was challenging. He wasn't used to any other body type but his own. And she was... Gifted in places he shouldn't be thinking about.

But he'd never give her anything he wasn't proud of. Something he didn't think was absolutely flawless. He hated things with flaws. But then again. Everything had them. Himself included himself. Including her. But, he didn't hate her like he did himself. And he wished to give her something to show that.

He knew barely anything about her. But something about her made him feel like she just, belonged. Not necessarily down in this dungeon. No. She definitely didn't belong down here. She belonged up there. In the courtyard. In the sun. Where her eyes could match the color of honey comb in summer. And her skin felt warm. And her lips were as soft as flower petals.

There was only one other person like that. One who made him feel. Whole. But there was no time to think about that. For something moved. And something shuffled across the room. And something had grabbed his hands. And something was looking at him with honey eyes.

And before he could protest. He was being dragged to the canopy bed. He tripped over himself as he was forced into the bed. He found himself most disrespected by his own footing as he ended on his back. Looking up at his own enchantment. Viola giggled and layed down opposite and upside down of him so their heads lay side by side, but their bodies reached opposite ends of the bed. He couldn't move. More so, he wouldn't. He was entierly far too afriad to do so. She was so close. Willingly.

And Viola felt him stiffen. How could she not. She hated how he locked up. But then again. She did the same. His tactics. Closing himself up. Hardening himself to the world. She played those games too. Acting as though nothing in the world mattered. Not even herself. But she was coming to realize there was a great deal that mattered. And a great deal that had to be discussed.

She reached her hand up to the stars. Her fingers lazily trailing the magical made cosmos. "They said I was dropped off to that the orphanage when I was a week old. I wasn't supposed to make it. They said I had snow in my bones. And belong to the winter lords of the mountains. Muggles are so suspicious. Creating stories to make themselves feel comfortable of the unnatural." She smiled sadly. "But if course you saw the adoption paper."

Severus nodded slowly. Taking in her words. Trying so hard to focus on the actual structure of the sentence. And not of just the tone. These were words that must be said. That had to be said. And most importantly. Must be listened to. He realized they had not properly talked. Not once. He was a man of silence until it was necessary to speak. Perhaps that was more of a hinderance than a help in this senario. A fault he should correct.

"I was Eleven." She continued. Cupping a cluster of stars in her hand. Letting them water.fall from in between her fingers. "When they showed me his portrait."

~~~~

"All great Witches and Wizards come from somewhere." Karkaroff walked with a stride the child had learned to keep up with. Powerful steps that echoed through the otherwise deadly silent halls. She was not used to this wing of the castle. Inside and out she could roam the halls she was allowed in. But this wing was hidden by magic. Behind a statue was a door. Behind the door a hallway. Across the hallway a tower. Inside the tower. A library.

"Forbidden magic. Is what the ministry calls power they cannot control." Karkaroff laughed a laugh drenched in cigar smoke. His voice as yellow as his teeth. His eyes darted back and forth as he looked around his private collection. And Viola indulged her lust of knowledge. Skimming over the books. Titles and chapters in languages she did not yet understand called to her. Yes. She would learn much here. But she knew the old Russian. Her pretend father. He wouldn't have brought here here specifically for this.

Through her skimming. Among the books there was a mirror. She looked at herself. And hated what she saw. Her hair had become a silvery white. Her skin pale. Her eye. She touched it. Her eye was...

"So it is true Igor." A voice that did not belong to her called out to them. It was one she had never heard before and yet it felt so familiar. This voice came from a portrait. This one was not the face only portraits she was used to. It was full length. Large enough for a man to stand before her.

A man with an eye that looked exactly like hers.

"I didn't think it was possible." The man spoke again. Looking down at Viola in a way she was never looked at before. There was something there. Something she had read about but... The man tilted his head. Ah yes. There it was. This man looked at her, lovingly.

"Tell me your name child." He spoke softly. And she walked closer. "Viola." She answered back. And the man smiled widely. "Of course you are." And Viola smiled back. Though she was not sure why. But she felt as though, she should be proud of her name. She never was before. So why should she be now? She turned to the mirror once more. Looking at herself. She felt more like herself when she did. As if the hair and eyes she had now did not belong to her. She belonged to how she looked in the mirror. She belonged to the man in the portrait.

"Would you like to know, how you came to be?" The man asked her. She turned to the portrait once again. And took a step back. As the man came through the portrait. But it wasn't a man. For men have flesh and bone. Men have a solid figure. Men have a smell that defines them as living. Men were not see through. No. This was no man. What stood before her. What her fingers ran through when she tried to touch him. Was magic. It was simply a bewitched portrait. But still. It felt so real.

~~~~

"He was cold. Like snow. He was cold like snowflakes. He was cold like these stars are. He was cold like his name. Like my name."

She looked to Severus for a moment. "Grindelwald."