It Takes a Miracle

Chapter 8 – I can’t help myself, I’ve got to see you again


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He hated it. He hated it all. He hated that he was interrupted by Dumbledore. He hated that Dumbledore made him escort Ger…the slip of a witch to dinner and waste his time on communal eating. He hated the food that was served and he hated the plate, around which he kept pushing the food. Thanks Merlin, at least the old nutter wasn’t there to engage everybody in general conversation, and the notable absence of the rag clown provided for more or less quiet atmosphere. Still, Snape felt trapped in this brightly lit dining room, and he hated it.

But most of all he hated the nagging feeling of cold lead being dropped into the pit of his stomach every time he glanced at the young witch to see her talking quietly and smiling at her fiancé. He practically abhorred it, because, well… Because there was no good explanation for it. None at all. Everything else had a reason. Everything else made sense. But not this. And for a person whose life often depended on his ability to decipher other people’s thoughts and feelings, not to be able to explain his own was an insult to say the least.

Of course, to be completely truthful with himself, Snape had to admit that he did have a suspicion as to why this was happening. However, to accept the said suspicion was to accept the fact that he was an absolute fool. A 100 proof idiot. A stupid, brainless fuck-up.

“Too late to deny the truth, isn’t it?” The little voice in Snape’s head obviously was having the time of its life. And who wouldn’t? Even Snape himself for once felt inclined to agree with it. Considering the effort he put in his relentless struggle over the last couple of days, it was simply ridiculous… Snape ground his teeth. It was absolutely ridiculous that an insignificant incident on the way to the dinner would have such a devastating effect on him.

When the witch landed on his chest, he suddenly had an absolutely unfamiliar, yet entrancing feeling -- the feeling of being complete. For a brief moment while they stood on the stairs, their bodies pressed, he believed that it was how it should be – she wanted to be with him, they belong together. He believed it so much that it was a miracle he didn’t touch her, and didn’t pull her even closer to him, and didn’t bury his face into the hair that smelled… Damn!

Snape’s teeth were pressed so hard together, his jaw throbbed. Still nothing, it seemed, could abate the unsatisfied, burning need, which even now, almost half an hour later, made his hands shake ever so slightly, aching to touch the girl…

Viciously, Snape jabbed his fork at a piece of boiled carrot and scowled at it. Merlin, he was an idiot. And as much as he loathed admitting it, even more he loathed realizing there was not much he could do to dispel the allure of the young witch. Dreams or no dreams… Ridiculous!

Just as ridiculous as him still sitting at the table, reduced to fighting with his food and glaring at anybody who had the audacity to be in attendance. With his prized control slowly slipping out of his fingers and his mind still set on proving the improbability of his current situation, Snape knew he should stay clear of any public places. Especially those, where he had to be in a close proximity to the girl and her damn fiancé.

A couple of times he caught his hand going for his wand to hex the blasted young builder into the next month. Actually, he felt like going against Tresini with his bare hands. And then it would be the girl turn… Shit!

“I’ll have the main course and go,” Snape promised himself when he realized that he almost cursed McGonagall for asking him to pass the salt. This damn witch… This damn scent of hers… And this bloody fiancé of hers, looking at her, talking to her…

The main course came and went, but Snape continued his own torture. “Alright, I’ll stay for desert and leave right after,” he tried to persuade himself. He did need to make sure that Albus would hear he was present through the whole dinner, did he not? That was why the Headmaster had sent him here, after all.

Finally, McGonagall, who was discussing the condition of Sprout’s nurseries with the almost-silent sidekick (a.k.a. Magical Objects Junior Professor) for most of the dinner, suddenly decided to turn her attention to Snape. “Thanks gods,” he thought with angry merriment. It was a relief to be able to bark something irritable about his research and leave. Which he did. Rather in a hurry.

Alone in the hallway, Snape put a quick silencing charm around himself and swore long and loud. There.

He stood for a bit and then, after several unsuccessful attempts at deep breath – his chest seemed too tight to let the extra air through, - looked around as if unsure where he was and where he was going.

Work. Right. He turned towards the stairs, but stopped startled. From behind the closed door of the dining room, from which he ran in such a hurry, a burst of laughter erupted. Then another one. Snape stared at the door and slowly backed away from it. Few steps, and his back hit the windowsill. He turned and pressed his burning forehead to the cold glass. Gods...

On the other side of it raindrops were drawing uneven, skewed lines. His breath coming in short rasps, Snape watched the liquid lines appear and disappear for a while, relishing the coolness of the glass. Then, he pulled away and turned his head left and right to check the hallway. He didn’t fancy being seen staring into the rain.

There was nobody. Snape sighed, and in the corner of his eye caught the reflection of his own profile on the window. “You, greasy ugly idiot…” he growled.

He had to go. He had work to do. Robes billowing behind him, Snape stomped towards the library.


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Dinner was a wretched affair. Gerry couldn’t bring herself to actually eat something. Absentmindedly she was pushing her food around the plate, not sure what exactly was served. Almost against her will her gaze kept drifting to Snape, although she knew better than to stare openly at the Potions Master, who looked anything but happy to be there. She watched, with unexplainable fascination, his long graceful fingers, which played with a fork and a knife. She studied carefully his black robes that were hugging his rather narrow shoulders. She even ventured into sneaking a couple of quick glances at his pale face half-hidden behind the strands of black lanky hair. The only thing she avoided looking at were his burning obsidian eyes. For some reason she was afraid that if she did, she would drown in them.

Gerry was so preoccupied with this scrutiny that Valerius had to nudge her several times when she would stop in the middle of her own sentence. He was still upset, and, as a result, relied mostly on brisk “yea’s”, “no’s” or “hm’s” in their conversation. He occupied most of his time between bites with looking daggers at Snape. And the Potions Master, who didn’t bother to eat at all, was skillfully sneering back at the younger wizard, adding a few good scowls here and there for Gerry.

She tried to ignore the scowls, but frankly at this point it was hard for her to ignore anything even remotely related to the Potions Master. The little incident on the stairs seemed to have pushed her off of balance in more ways than one, and Gerry could not grasp what it was that troubled her so.

If she were to think about the whole Snape situation logically, she would have to agree that the impassive wizard most probably believed her to be bothersome and unpleasant. An annoying bug, that came from nowhere to disturb him, and kept buzzing around for no reason. But why should his opinion matter to her? If she were to think logically, she should just leave the man be and let him dislike her to his heart content, shouldn’t she?

If she were to think about the whole Snape situation logically, she would have to agree that spending so much time thinking about a virtual stranger made no sense. She had a new life ahead of her. She had a wedding to plan. She had… For Merlin’s sake, she was leaving Hogwarts in a day, never to come back! And where did Snape fit in? He absolutely did not.

There was, of course, the issue of the dreams, but they had been explained away, and she had made a decision to disregard them as…well…as dreams. Even Snape, who had shared at least some of those dreams, and obviously loathed them, was willing to forget about them, because they were…well…dreams.

So, if Gerry were to think logically, there was nothing to think about. There was no “situation.” They were two strangers thrown together for a brief moment, and about to separate their ways forever. Forever… Why, then, did her gaze keep returning to Snape? Why, then, did her insides flip every time she felt his eyes on her, even if it was another scowl? Why, then, couldn’t she stop thinking about the brief moment when she stood pressed against him on the stairs? And why did she want so much to keep standing like that, flattened against the Potions Master’s tall form? Oh Merlin…

As from afar, Gerry heard McGonagall’s voice. The older witch was questioning Derek on the condition of Professor Sprout’s nurseries, which he was taking care of in the absence of the Professor of Herbology.

However, the news of Professor Sprout’s anticipated return, which only a week ago would send her skimming excitedly through her Herbology notes in search of interesting topics in case she’d have a chance to talk to the Professor, right now only barely registered in her mind.

“Oh Merlin, why? Why?” she kept asking herself, struggling not to look at Snape. Why indeed…

But soon it was all over. Snape left in a cloud of black robes, and Gerry suddenly felt orphaned, abandoned in the dining room of Hogwarts. She was not repeating “Oh Merlin why” any more. Her mind was blank, and she felt an unfamiliar aching envelope her heart so tightly that every beat had become a hardship.

The burst of laughter brought Gerry out of her stupor. She missed the joke, but managed to force a smile. However, the following short exchange between McGonagall and Derek went largely unheeded by her, so she wasn’t prepared for the next burst of laughter either.

“That was a good one, Professor,” noted Val, and nudged her, “wasn’t it, baby?”

Obediently, Gerry smiled again.

“Are you okay?” Her fiancé’s large hand covered her own, and Gerry looked at him. His handsome face radiated so much concern and love that she suddenly couldn’t breath.

“Yeah. Yeah,” she managed after a brief pause. “Never better.” She hoped her smile was enough to reassure him.

Valerius studied her for a moment, and then grinned, “Good.”

As he turned back to Derek and McGonagall, Gerry carefully exhaled. Merlin…

She was immensely relieved when the dinner was finally over. As Derek bid them all good night, and Valerius went to double check some beams in the lower level, McGonagall and she were the last people in the dining room.

“Would you care to join me for a walk, Ms. Ardant?” asked the older witch.

The night was warm, and the air was fresh after the full day of rain. The aroma of just-washed grass and new flowers revived Gerry’s senses, and suddenly she realized how bad her decision to go with McGonagall was. The woman might want to talk, or even ask her something. Gerry shook herself mentally -- she had to pull herself together; the older witch shouldn’t be able to suspect anything. “Besides, there is nothing to suspect,” Gerry told herself sternly.

Thankfully, it seemed that McGonagall somehow understood her desire to sulk, and didn’t even make an effort to engage her in a conversation. Instead, as they went through the school’s greenhouses and around the garden, the older witch was describing the more interesting plants they were passing, and the care they required.

It took a while, but eventually Gerry recovered her composure. Without Snape’s disturbing presence and Val’s disquieting concern, her breathing evened out, her heartbeat slowed down, and her mind began functioning more or less properly. Now she felt totally embarrassed. What was happening with her back there, in the dining room? Was she going mad?

“How could you?” she kicked herself. “Getting your knickers in twist because of… How do they call him? Oh, yea, a greasy git. Nice going, girl. Really nice.”

The embarrassment turned into irritation. The irritation turned into a nervous glee. “What an idiot!” By the end of their walk Gerry ventured a couple of questions about the plants they were passing by.

Before they wished each other “good night”, McGonagall hesitantly asked, “Have you spoken with Professor Snape?”

The pounding of her heart suddenly heavy against her chest, startled Gerry looked at the older witch. The McGonagall explained, “Mrs. Doomsfield asked Professor Dumbledore to ensure that you had an opportunity to speak to Professor Snape before you left.”

“Oh.” Gerry inhaled and exhaled in quick succession. She didn’t like it at all that she forgot to breathe for a moment. “Yes, I have. Thank you.”

The older witch regarded her carefully and then, as if uncertain of whether she should proceed or not, said, “You do realize there is much more to Professor Snape than his wanted social skills, don’t you?”

“Yes,” whispered Gerry, afraid that her own voice could betray her.

“I hoped you would, my dear. I hoped you would.”

Later, tossing and turning in bed, Gerry kept thinking about this short exchange. About Snape. About why…

The clock had struck midnight, then one o’clock.

Casting a glance at the softly snoring Valerius, she slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb her fiancé, put her dressing gown over the old oversized t-shirt that served as her PJ’s, and went out of the room.


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Her notes turned out to be very decent. She underlined the most important facts. She illustrated every factual statement with examples and explanations. She left enough space for his remarks. And her handwriting was good. Lovely. Beautiful. “Do shut up,” he stopped himself almost lazily. What was the point any way?

It took him some pacing and some swearing, but finally he was at the table, working. He left Gerry’s notes as they were and continued with his own. From time to time he would take a look at the parchment covered by her handwriting, and then, with a bitter curl of his lips, return his attention to the book he worked on at the moment.

It was already one in the morning, when he took a little break. He walked around the darkened hall, stretching his stiffened joints and thinking about a promising link he had just uncovered. He was so engrossed in his musings that he did not notice… Oh bloody Merlin, help me.

“What are you doing here?” he spat.

The young witch probably didn’t see him, because she startled at the sound of his voice and began looking wildly around until her eyes stopped at him.

“Well?” He was moving from the darkness that engulfed most of the hall to the circle of light around the table he worked on, and where Gerry stood now. He guessed that his glare was a bit more unpleasant than usual, because the young witch recoiled slightly. “The better for her,” he though glumly.

“I was just…” she started.

“What?” he urged, making another couple of steps towards her. On recollection, he did recognize it to be a mistake. The distinct aroma of vanilla and peach hit his nostrils, and for a brief moment he couldn’t form any coherent thought.

“I just… I couldn’t sleep…” the witch stuttered, obviously having a hard time composing herself.

“You couldn’t sleep,” Snape repeated with a sneer. His recovery time was always rather quick. “Have you forgotten how unwise it is to wander around the castle at night? Or,” he briskly strode towards the entrance door, “you brought an escort this time around?” He peered out.

“No! There is no escort!” The witch’s words were full of indignation.

“You want to tell me that your Mr. Wonderful let you leave his bed yet again?” He knew how to infuse his smile with plenty of spite.

“Leave Val out of it,” she said softly and added with force, “I am free to do what I want.” She took a breath, thought for a moment, and uttered, “I was just passing by, saw the light. Thought you might be here, working. Thought I might join you…”

“Why?” He was making large circles around her.

“Well…” she hesitated, “because, I enjoyed working with you.”

“You did, didn’t you?” he was anything but pleased. “I can only imagine how thrilled your friends and Mr. Tresini are going to be when they find out that you were seeking my company in the middle of the night.” He narrowed his eyes to mere slits. “We wouldn’t want to let this happen, would we?”

“Stop,” the witch pleaded.

“Indeed,” he muttered more to himself than to her. Then he stood, looking at her, his arms folded on his chest, and stated icily, “Good night, Ms. Ardant.”

The young witch, however, was not leaving. Instead, she lowered her small body into a chair, wrapped the dressing gown tighter, and glanced at Snape. “Why do you care what Val or my friends think?”

“I don’t. But I can’t be trusted to be in the same room with you,” was the first thought that came to his mind. He crushed it promptly and snarled, “I don’t. But I don’t fancy being accused of forcing you into an unwanted association.”

The witch didn’t say anything. She was looking at him with her absurdly blue eyes that even on her sad face radiated warmth and… “Stop this, Severus, you are just desperate. Stop,” he begged himself inwardly.

“You don’t have to…” she started. Then she stopped, bit her lip, and shrugged slightly. “Look, I did like working with you. I like Potions, and… I thought I could be of assistance. I am not terribly busy, and you are…”

“Your noble pursuits of occupation are duly noted, Ms. Ardant,” he scowled. “Now, leave.”

“Please,” he begged inwardly. He didn’t notice when he got a hold of the back of the chair, but now he realized that his fingers were gripping the wooden plank so tightly that they hurt.

Meanwhile, the witch bowed her head slightly, and the cascade of her wavy long hair slid down, obscuring her face. He waited, too aware of the cold sweat that began to cover his forehead. “What if she cries? What if she stays? What if she says something?” For the life of him, Snape couldn’t remember the last time he was so angst-ridden. Even in the face You-Know-Who he always managed to keep his cool. But with this slip of a witch so close…

“Ms. Ardant, didn’t you hear me? I asked you to leave.”

She sat up straight and slowly ran her hands through her hair to pull it back. Her face, beautiful even in sadness, emerged from behind the wavy tresses, and Snape was only too grateful that she didn’t look up at him as she stood up and turn to leave. The cold sweat now covered his whole body, and he felt absolutely empty inside, hollow.

But then she did look. “Professor,” she started slowly, while Snape gripped the blasted chair even tighter, and thanked the bloody gods that she at least wasn’t crying. “I’ve heard what people say about you.”

“Do you mean to tell me that your friends have enlightened you about my personality?” He managed to smirk.

“Well…”

“Oh, do pray tell me all about it.” His smirk was oozing venom then. This was easier. This he could do.

“I’d rather not. It really doesn’t matter to me.”

“Why not? I am sure your friends,” he spat the last word, “care for you enough to warn you of all the unpleasantness that would most definitely befall on you, should you make a mistake of coming into a contact with me.”

“Professor…” Her maddeningly blue eyes seemed darker then.

“Oh come now, Ms. Ardant.” He moved away from the stupid chair, away from her penetrating gaze. “Don’t be afraid to offend my sensibilities. Tell me, I want to hear it. I bet your friends haven’t even come up with anything new.”

“Yes! They say all these horrible things about you!” She span on her heels to face him.

“So why are you still here? Why. Don’t. You. Leave.” The words one by one were slapping her, while Snape strode back to the table and grabbed the familiar chair to hold on to. “Temper, Severus, temper,” he thought. “She is leaving.”

“Because…Because I don’t care what’s going on between you and Jay, or Val, or any one else!” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes… He couldn’t look into them, and yet he couldn’t not look. “I don’t care.”

“And you should!” He added quietly, “Shouldn’t you?” as if he was in doubt himself.

She shook her head, and her stare, hot and blue, pinned him to the spot. “Professor, it doesn’t…I don’t know…” She bit her lip. “Look, all I know that you have every right to be angry with me.”

That Snape didn’t expect at all. On its own accord, his brow arched up.

“I should have probably said it right away, but… I am sorry.” The girl sighed, and finally looked away from him. “I am sorry for Val’s attitude, and for… I know how royally I screwed up that night. But you were…and I needed to do something. I had no idea about the dreams, and such. I can only imagine how…unpleasant it is for you to have to deal with all of it. If there was anything I could do now to rectify the situation, I would in a moment.” She ran out of breath, and stopped. Then she smiled a sad half-smile and said, “Were you not a Potions Master, I would offer to brew a Dreamless Sleep Potion for you.” Her face sobered, and she uttered, “I am sorry, Professor.”

Snape wasn’t sure how he managed to keep standing, when his knees buckled. He had to use his will to let go of the back of the chair that he was gripping, and walk away from the table again. He stopped, his back to the young witch, and ran a hand through his hair. He just knew that she was playing a prank on him. He just knew that, somewhere close by, her cronies were hiding ready to jump out and catch him doing something stupid, embarrassing.

“Your regrets are acknowledged. What else do you want, Ms. Ardant?” he croaked.

“Nothing,” she said softly, and added, “I just wanted to help you.”

The last words sounded familiar. Too familiar. Like in one of those crazy dreams, she wanted to help… Suddenly, Snape didn’t have any desire to ponder anything. He couldn’t anyway. Something inside shattered and he gave in.

Frowning, he gestured the witch to the table, and shrugged as if saying “be my guest.” The witch flushed him a smile of total relief, sat at her old spot, and bent over the book...

It was after the clock struck three in the morning that Snape noticed that the girl was yawning so often that it took less and less time between her closing her mouth and opening it again. Not that he was watching her. Just a glance here, a look there. Her questions also became father apart, and she could no longer produce enough enthusiasm to listen to his explanations.

“It is time, Ms. Ardant,” he told her.

She raised her eyes from the parchment to look at him, and yet again he was engulfed in the warmth they radiated.

“It is late. Go, get some sleep,” he urged her, fighting a shudder.

“I can’t sleep.” She shook her head slightly, her face almost miserable.

“Of course.” It dawned on Snape. “The bloody dreams. She is afraid to go to sleep also.”

“Should have thought about it right away, shouldn’t you?” the little voice in his head mocked. “But no, you’d rather believe anything else.” He didn’t want to argue, he was too tired. Besides, he didn’t want to ask this little bugger what it thought Snape believed in anyway. Out loud he said, “Follow me.”

This time he made sure that the young witch could keep up with him. He didn’t fancy another episode like the one on the way to dinner.

“You are not even asking me where we are going, Ms. Ardant,” he noted slightly amused while they were waiting for the stairs to move their way. She shrugged, and gave him a small smile, which practically knocked his breath out, “You still can call me Gerry.”

When they enter his office, Snape realized how cold it was in there. He brought the fireplace to life and turned to the young witch. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay.” She smiled, looking around.

In his lab he found the vial he was looking for right away. “Isn’t it ironic that the first ever female in your office, who is neither a student, nor a faculty member, nor someone’s parent, has come for a Dreamless Sleep Potion?” snickered the nasty little voice. Snape didn’t respond. The little bugger unexpectedly brought him out of the haze he was in for the last couple of hours, ever since the moment he let Ms. Ardant work with him.

He sat slowly, trying to make sure that he was not hyperventilating. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Oh, bloody Merlin, what the fuck have you done, Severus?” The question was rhetorical, but Snape allowed himself a long string of choice words in lieu of an answer. The better question, however, would be “What to do now?” The trouble, though, was that suddenly he couldn’t concentrate on anything concerning Ms. Ardant, without having his train of though moving into a completely unwanted direction. Unfortunately, he had no time for a cold shower, or a long lecture. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his teeth and went back to his office.


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She walked about his office, regarding shelf upon a shelf of jars with weird or scary looking contents. Then she looked at the rest of the room. It had a feel of something cold, almost inhuman even with the fire roaring in the hearth. She shivered and smiled, thinking of…Snape. Well, it was his office, after all. And he was somewhere nearby. And he was rather civil to her.

“Alright, stop it, girl,” she berated herself inwardly. “Only because you are pushy, and he is busy, is there any kind of truce between Snape and you.” Still, for some reason, she didn’t care to identify, Gerry felt…content being here in the cold dungeons. More content than she was in any other part of the castle for that matter. It was rather an unsettling feeling.

Hastily, she had to remind to herself that it didn’t really matter whether she felt content or not. Come Monday, she’d be out of Hogwarts, and Snape would be out of her life. And yet, there was no denying the fact that leaving Val’ bed, she went looking for Snape. Not consciously. No. But when she saw him in the library, she just knew she was looking for him…

“This is for you. I doubt it your busy schedule last night included picking up a doze of Dreamless Sleep Potion.” His deep velvety voice brought her back from her reverie. He offered her a vial, and she could feel that something happened to him while he was absent. His nasty sneer was back, and giving her the potion he pointedly avoided even a brush of their fingers as if hers were poisonous snakes.

“Thank you very much, Professor.”

He nodded curtly, and she knew that his next words were going to be “Good night.”

“Professor, can I ask you something?” She turned so she wouldn’t have to see the coldness of his black eyes. Before he had a chance to answer, Gerry continued, “Why do Potions Masters keep all this horrid stuff in their offices?” She gestured around the room. “Nobody actually uses any of these in the potions, right?”

“No, I reckon not,” came the reply, and she risked looking at Snape again. There was an unmistakable hint of amusement on his face, which disappeared into a customary nonchalant coldness the very next moment. But it was there, and Gerry pulled the thread further, “Why do you think that is?”

“I guess, traditions.” Snape shrugged.

Again, before he had a chance to continue with “good night”, Gerry pointed at a little mirror on the mantel, “Is it a foe-glass?”

“No.” Although the Potions Master sounded as if his patience was rapidly wearing thin, he explained, “It is a warning mirror. It gives me a view of the corridor that leads to my office…”

“May I?” Gerry was genuinely curious, and with Snape’s silent permission, she took the mirror, and flopped into one of the armchairs at the fireplace to take a closer look. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these before.”

She glanced at the gloomy Potions Master, who finally managed irritably, “Ms. Ardant, it’s been a long day…”

“Yes.” She nodded, the sad elation of the last minutes gone. “I should go…”

He took her all the way to Val’ rooms, despite her vigorous assurances that she was quite capable of finding her way around the castle by now. He just kept striding silently, and eventually all she could do was follow him. At the door, he uttered “good night” curtly, turned on his heel, and swept away into one of the concealed passageways.

She stood for long while at the door, not sure if she wanted to go in, or walk away… Or run after the surly Potions Master.

“Are you absolutely mad?!” Gerry couldn’t believe that she would think that while standing in front of the rooms where her fiancé currently slept. “Fucking idiot!” she added forcefully, and swung the door open.

As soon as she carefully slipped under covers, into the pleasant warmth created by Val’ body, Gerry realized that she had forgotten the vial with the potion in Snape’s office. For a brief moment she considered if it was a good reason for sneaking back down to the dungeons. However, after berating herself mentally for a complete lack of any kind of judgmental abilities, she closed her eyes with a sigh, and braced herself for another nightmarish sleep.

She finally managed to fall asleep only when the darkness of the night had begun to give way to the light of the day. She was prepared to look for Snape yet again, but this particular dream was different. He was there, right in front of her, watching her attentively. He wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t getting closer either. She made a move to run up to him, but realized that her legs didn’t respond. Surprised, she tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. She wanted to touch him, but her hands wouldn’t move.

Oh, it was so frustrating – the wizard was so close, and Gerry yearned to hold him and be held by him in return. Yet she couldn’t figure out how to let him know that she was, probably, under some kind of a spell, and he had to take his wand out and release her. Merlin, he was just standing there, an expressionless mask firm on his face, his black eyes half-lidded, his lips thin and harsh.

They stood like that for a while, just looking at each other, when suddenly Gerry began to realize what was happening. It was farewell.

“No, please gods, no.” She pleaded inwardly, still hoping she was mistaken. “Please.”

However, as if in response to her pleading, a green fog began shimmering around the wizard’s feet.

“No-o-o-o!” Gerry’s pleadings were turning into frantic begging. “No, please, don’t go… Please, stay…”

But the green fog rose higher and higher, soon covering the wizard’s legs up to his knees, to his thighs.

“Please, don’t leave me… Please, stay…” If she could, she would cry. But she had no control over her body. Still she fought, dearly wishing he would be able to read in her eyes what she couldn’t say out loud. However, it didn’t look like the wizard could understand her. Or worse, he didn’t want to understand her. He just remained motionless, as the fog went up, covering his robes up to his waist.

“Please, listen to me… Please, stay… I need you… Please…” It was all in vain. The fog kept rising, and the wizard kept looking at her, his black bottomless eyes glimmering strangely, green sparks dancing in them.

“No, no, no, please, don’t leave me…” she was plunging into the depth of a total despair, watching as the last bit of him disappeared in the green fog.

“Good bye, my love,” the deep voice spoke softly in her ear, and she screamed, “NO-O-O-O-O!” Her voice, suddenly free from the confinement of her own body, carried so much strength, that it pushed Gerry down to her knees.

When she looked up, there was no green fog and no wizard. The tears rolled down her face and she whispered, “Please, don’t leave me… I love you…”

Val woke her up to offer for the last time to take her to London with him.

“You need to get away from this place,” he argued. “On Friday you came back a different person. You spent a day here, and you are miserable again.”

“I am fine, Val. What are you talking about?” She shrugged.

He didn’t answer, just pointed at her pillow wet under her cheek.

“Oh, please, can’t a girl drool?” She tried to turn it into a joke, but Val shook his head, brushed her cheek with his fingers and said softly, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she squeaked, throwing her whole body into his strong hands.

“Tell me, baby, what’s wrong?” he whispered trailing light kisses from the top of her head down to her lips.

“Nothing.” She pushed herself even closer to him, burying her face in his robes. “Just hold me tight.”
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A/N A huge thanks to my beta Odddoll.