Madrigal

I slept through most of Saturday, and I when I finally dragged myself out of bed it was nearly dinnertime. I limped into my laboratory to find her bent over a cauldron, cautiously adding Venomous Tentacula leaves one by one. Careful not to disturb her, I peered over her shoulder to see what she was brewing. It wasn’t a potion I was familiar with, and the length of parchment next to her was covered in a series of scribbles and crossed-out notes.

I gingerly lowered myself onto the armchair by the fire to watch her work. She seemed to be making something of her own invention, and was constantly cross-referencing texts and performing each step slowly and warily.

She was sprinkling crushed Dittany flowers into the cauldron when it suddenly expanded, bubbling up aggressively. It popped and spit, spraying all over her. She was wearing protective goggles and had her hair fastidiously tied back, but the boiling potion had splattered all over the front of her robes. She vanished the concoction in an instant, but the damage was already done. She frantically pulled the clothing off of her, examining the destruction.

But then she laughed enthusiastically and ran over to me. She had discovered the protective enchantments on the fabric far sooner than I’d expected. “Oh my gods, Professor!” she gushed, “This is bloody incredible! These robes must have cost you a month’s worth of pay!” She seemed scared of hurting me if she hugged me, so I grabbed the front of her t-shirt and pulled her onto my lap. The extra weight made my ass ache horribly, but I couldn’t have cared less.

She sat sideways on my lap, resting her head comfortably on my shoulder. I encircled her with my arms, and she wrapped hers around my neck. “So what in the bloody hell were you doing there, girl?” I asked gruffly, failing to disguise the affection in my voice.

“I’ve been working on an idea for a while. This was the first attempt I made at actually brewing something. I multiplied some of my strongest painkillers with a Geminus Charm, and I was working on combining them with some of the few magical elements that reliably work on dark magic. Clearly, I still have a way to go…”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me for help? This is kind of my area of expertise,” I said sarcastically.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to try to figure this out on my own, you know? I guess I wanted to impress you…” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

“You impress me every damn day, Hermione,” I whispered, then placed a small kiss on her ear.

After a few minutes of academic discussion about her project, she told me that we should go to dinner. I outright refused, saying that my lower intestine would be in no shape for solid food for a couple days. She declared that she wouldn’t go if I wasn’t going, so I rolled my eyes and called for a house elf to bring her a tray. She forced me to drink the broth from her bowl of bouillabaisse and shoved a couple small bits of white bread in my mouth. I tried to pour myself a drink, but she scolded me and put a glass of water in my hand instead. I glowered at her venomously as she fretted and mothered me; she, of course, ignored this completely.

You can’t even scare her when you try now. You growl at her and she rolls her eyes. You yell at her and she yells back. She’s not intimidated by you. Not really. She’s seen your naked, sodomized ass dripping with blood. She’s seen the revels. She’s brewed deadly poisons for you. And through it all she’s still here.

After just a couple hours of research and discussion concerning her invention, we were both yawning frequently. I told her that she had to spend this night in her own dorm, lest she raise her roommates’ suspicions. She argued that she was always the last girl in bed at night and the first to rise every morning. But after a few minutes of dealing with my stubbornness, she nodded her reluctant assent and rose to leave. I followed her to the entryway, pulling her to me for a lingering embrace before she left.

I tried to thank her for helping me last night, but my stupid fucking pride wouldn’t let me force the words out. I just kissed her on the forehead, leaving my lips pressed to her soft skin for a lingering tender moment. I took her hair out of it’s tight bun and buried my hands in it, intently gazing into her eyes. I tried to make her understand my gratitude, my loneliness, my all-consuming desire, my grasping neediness, all with nothing but my intense, unblinking gaze. She nodded; my message seemed to have gotten through. “I know, Sir. I’m here. Whenever you need me…” she whispered, so quietly that her voice was little more than a gasp of breath.