#i still feel under the weather but presumably that's from something unrelated despite it not really being cold season anymore!

[pandaspwnz]

Finally got my hands on a test today because my mom's boyfriend had an extra one (although he also thankfully found some at the pharmacy later!) and I do not have covid! (at least yet)

Mom tested positive for covid yesterday (she's mostly okay, just has a light cough and a runny nose), but we're out of tests now so I'll need to run to the store later (with a mask on ofc) and get more, both to keep track of hers, but also because I also have a sore throat 🙃

[another-snape-story]

Quidditch Incident

Chapter XIX

Quidditch pitch came into sight as the trees thinned out into a wide field. The stands were full of cheering fans and their loud uproar reached you from afar. Neither you nor Snape had desire to merge into this excited buzz preferring the solitude you shared together, yet your feet inevitably led you to the epicenter of an event.

Not that you were a big Quidditch fan, but one couldn’t deny the whole atmosphere contributed to a gambling mood. Moreover, since Hogwarts provided not much entertainment, you found it really nice to change the setting and clear your mind – last days were quite tough.

The view opening from the height of tribunes induced an eye to roam freely over the hills and plains which spread far to the horizon building a landscape of all vivid colors. The brilliant greens, reds and yellows banished every dark thought. Cool wind blowing you in the face felt especially pleasant under warm rays of sun, and the man beside you added gayety to your spirits.

You watched final preparations being done anticipating the teams to appear on the pitch while Snape watched you. The fire of life he thought had gone out, flared up in his soul anew. Your kind attitude reminded him he was a human – with simple human desires and aspirations. Could he be blamed for striving for at least one fleeting touch of warmth? Ironically, after admitting he seemed to have found someone he’s been longing to come into his life for so long, he felt astray like never before. Snape didn’t know how things with the Dark Lord might turn out. Involving you into this dangerous game never came along with his plans.

“Here they are!” your cheerful voice pulled the man out of despairing reflections. In a blink, players soared up in the air looping around the pitch and greeting their fans and guests who arrived to attend the first Quidditch match in this season. “I hope we win!”

Bitterness which lied upon Snape’s heart melted away as he saw your eyes full of ingenuous delight. Although the score was the least of his concerns, he softly smiled in response. “Yes, I do hope so too.”

Once two captains shook hands, Madam Hooch’s whistle announced the game to begin, and four balls, freed from ties, blasted off at full tilt. Following the Quaffle going from one team to another, you also tried to keep an eye on Bludgers aimed to kick players off their brooms, shrinking every time iron spheres threatened to reach the goal. Quidditch has never been a bore always offering a spectacular performance, but the only thing you hated about it was an extremely high risk of injuries.

Slytherin scored another ten points, and the half of stands packed with swarm of green colors exulted in triumphant elation. Engulfed in overall excitement, you grinned happily until you noticed Harry Potter struggling to tame his Nimbus Two Thousand which seemed to have gone wild jolting and swishing and… bucking him off? Your heart sank.

“Severus,” you nervously seized his hand, “something’s wrong with Potter’s broom!” Eyes widened in terror, you looked up at the man, but he already was aware of the trouble.  

“I know,” he answered briefly, a mixture of confusion and determination on his face. Close attention directed at the boy, Snape traced his every move with an intent stare. You heard him muttering unknown magic formulas, presumably, inventing some on the spot and hoping to find the one which might help. Afraid to interfere, you pulled out your wand, ready to cast any spell needed to at least slow down the fall. Your glance darted rapidly from Snape to Potter checking whether Harry was still holding on to his broomstick and whether Severus still had things under control – if a term ‘control’ was relevant in these circumstances at all. Worse luck, as a mockery of someone who initiated this wicked show, Snape’s coat caught fire for some inexplicable reason.

“Fire! You’re on fire!” screamed a voice from behind your back.

While Snape got distracted by extinguishing the flame, you discovered that Potter’s broom suddenly calmed down, and the boy could fly safely again.

“Are you okay? What was that?” you worriedly examined the man from head to toe, making sure he wasn’t harmed.

“No idea,” Snape replied absentmindedly, his eyes chaotically running over the place.

By chance, you caught a glimpse of Professor Quirrell adjusting his stupid turban that started annoying you lately. To your surprise, the man seemed to appear in different light for a moment – his face conveyed stern, unrelenting emphasis so untypical of him, which didn’t last long, however, and transformed into his usual pitiful expression as he looked around. You found it curious.

Meanwhile Potter caught the Snitch and brought Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points. This meant your team lost the game, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except for his strange incident.

“We better go now,” a soft touch on the small of your back awoke you from perplexed stupor, and a tall black figure drew you along through the crowd, down the stairs, away from the pitch.

“Do you believe it might be Dark Magic?” uncertainly, you shared your assumption once the road seemed deserted enough.

“Absolutely,” Snape affirmed grimly, furrowing deep in his thought. “To perform sorcery so strong and resistant, one should possess an extraordinary proficiency.”

“The Dark Lord?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

You fell silent for a moment pondering how to handle situation like this. Rumors about return of Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were getting real. You didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“What do we do now?” you questioned helplessly.

“Wait,” Snape stated firmly. “We can only wait.”

You’d never stop admiring this man, so strong, so powerful he was, and so brave. Resolute glance of black eyes with no shadow of fear demonstrated his readiness to face whatever was coming.

“Be careful, Severus…” you begged, realizing he put himself in danger trying to counteract evil charms. “He knows you’ve ruined his plans.”

Snape’s lips formed a gentle smile. An alien until recent time, yet so pleasant feeling took over him erasing disturbing apprehensions – the way his heart responded your little grain of care made him forget about all of his troubles for a split second.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured quietly.

Dealing with the Dark Lord wasn’t new for him. What bothered Snape more – how the things would unfold; he had to foresee every possible scenario beforehand to be able to protect the school, Potter – damn his guts! – and… you... He wouldn’t let a hair fall from your head, even if it costed him life.

Unwilling to return into the castle, you dragged your feet after Severus, wishing you could stay outside – with him – a little longer.

“Do we need to go straight back?” you gave Snape a pleading look which he couldn’t resist.

“I was actually going to have a word with Headmaster,” he admitted, and this was enough for you to get the hint.

“Oh, sure,” you apologized scolding yourself for being too importunate. “Never mind. Of course, the matter is pressing…”

“But!” Snape had to slightly raise his voice to stop your mindflow and continued in his usual measured tone once he had your attention. “But he must be celebrating the victory at the moment, so – I guess – we could take some air.”

You beamed happily in response to his sly smirk.

“However,” Snape portrayed a pointedly serious expression, “I’m afraid we can’t go further until you’re freezing up.” Indeed, it was getting colder each day and – despite your red cheeks and ears – you refused to take a notice – whatever the weather outside, inwardly you’ve always felt warm and sunny when you had this man beside.

Before you could utter a word, Snape pulled his scarf off just to carefully wrap it around your neck. The fabric still carried his warmth sufficient to melt your heart. Smiling gratefully, with all sincerity, you grabbed long ends and rose them to your face snuggling into the softness of woolen textile. A slight scent of potion fumes stuck in knitted loops reached your nostrils – enthralling, intoxicating. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the pleasure of a new wondrous sensation. Although he surely could use a simple warming charm, a gesture he chose instead played so touching and emotionally rewarding.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Just don’t tell anyone. I have reputation, you know,” he said sternly and you giggled.

“I’m not going to share your scarf with someone else! It’s too soft and cozy.”

A small smile emerged in the corner of Snape’s mouth.

“You may keep it.”

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