Theodorka

After sliding a letter addressed to your grandmother under the door, Severus apparates you to the fence where he left his broomstick. After a few minutes of fumbling around for the invisible thing, you take a lovely morning walk through the woods back to where you ditched your broom, and then Severus apparates you both to a much warmer place—the foothills of the Pyrenees. You get on your broom and scout around for a decent place to make camp, while Severus attempts to forage breakfast from a nearby rural village.

You are setting up your tent when Severus returns with an unconscionable amount of bread and cheese and ham.

“My French is rustier than I thought.” Severus grumbles, placing things down in your tent. You smile at him awkwardly, feeling weirdly shy about last night still. It doesn’t really feel like much has changed between you two. You’ve never actually had a boyfriend before. Maybe you’re supposed to just carry on like nothing’s different?

“Right. I would prefer to have given you this yesterday, that I might have a longer window of observation, but I can leave an antidote when I go tonight. Just in case.” Severus reaches into his cloak and produces a small box. He places it unopened on the work table in your tent. He nods at you, then at the box. Surely he hasn’t gotten you a gift? You suppose he wouldn’t be talking about an antidote if he had, and you start to have a bad feeling about this. You cross the tent and take the box. It’s quite small and fits in your hand at roughly the length of a pocketbook. Opening it reveals seven little vials sitting securely inside.

“Oh.” You cross your arms. “I, er, wasn’t actually terribly fond of feeling ravenous all the time before. I’d rather not take it…voluntarily, either.”

Severus blinks at you. “Oh, no. It’s not that again. It might actually make your appetite worse.” Severus suddenly frowns at the potions. “You must remember to take extra care and get enough to eat when you take it. Understand?”

“No?” You set the box down. “What is it?”

“Right.” Severus pulls the box toward him and plucks a vial out of it. He takes a step back from the table and holds both hands out, as if presenting the potions to you, “These are Acuity Infusions. Or Acuity Elixirs…I’m undecided on the name. Which do you prefer?”

“Elixir, um…you know, I haven’t actually got a dictionary; what does acuity mean, then?”

“Well, sharpness, you know? Mental clarity and such. Acuity and acute share the same etymology, if that helps. Like a very…sudden angle—no, not that—I mean, yes, but—”

“Right.” You nod with a frown, “It’s a potion to make me less dumb, is it?”

Severus goes still. “…No.” He takes a deep breath, “This is all Minerva’s fault, if you’d stayed the night with me, I’d have had plenty of time to—look, just try it. It improves executive functioning and the like; I based it off different muggle stimulants. Wizards have similar treatments, but I didn’t think them suitable for you.”

You keep frowning and crossing your arms.

“You’re not going to try it, are you?” He’s frowning now. You take a deep breath and look at the ceiling of your tent.

“It’s…sweet, Severus, thank you. But my problems—some people—me—I’m just not terribly…clever. It’s not the sort of thing—” Severus rounds the table and you squeak as he puts a hand on either cheek and not-so-gently squishes your face. “Severus!”

“You’re clever.” Severus shakes you a little. “You’re clever, stop saying you’re not, or I’m gonna go tell all those French villagers I’m going to take this very nice ham they sold me and cook it like bacon, they’ll draw and quarter me in the market, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“What?!”

“You’re terribly clever, and I can prove it, and even if you weren’t, these potions wouldn’t suddenly make you clever. That’s why I didn’t call them Cleverness tinctures, did I? They improve acuity, which is quite a bit different from cleverness, alright? That’s why they’re two different words. Please try it? If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to do it again.”

“Mmmm…” You mumble through your squished cheeks.

“I’d just like to point out I didn’t even try to poison you this time—not that I deserve any special recognition for it, but given our history, I think we can agree it’s an improvement?”

“And you would never leverage that improvement in attempt to get me to drink your potion as a means to reward your improvement in lieu of having any personal desire to take it myself?”

“See? Clever as they come.” Severus kisses you, very easily seeing as he’s holding your face captive. You kiss back, but shake out of his grip after. “Won’t you try it?” He insists.

You huff. You tell Severus this isn’t possibly going to work. You puff. You tell him it’s pointless. You pout. You drink the potion; it tastes horrid and you nearly cry.

“It’s so bad, Severus, what the hell?!” You say through your coughing.

“Tastes…bad…” Severus mumbles as he scribbles into a notebook he brought along. “Brilliant! Let me know what else you feel.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” The taste of cat food floating in a flooded gutter sticks to your palate like molasses. “Why’s it so bloody—viscous?!”

“Vis…cous…” Severus hums as he pencils in the note. “I’m going to start on breakfast…er, you look a bit…you should lie down. I’ll make you some tea.”

Severus leads you to lie down in your pile of cushions before disappearing outside. Your stomach cramps, and you start to sweat, so you clutch your stomach and wait for it to pass. Some time later, Severus returns. You can smell the fire he started outside.

“This ham isn’t black at all, it’s just…ham-colored?” Severus mumbles to himself. “Maybe that word doesn’t mean what I think it means?”

“What?” You groan.

“Nothing. How’re you feeling?”

“Very ill.”

“Great! Wait, no.” Severus appears in front of you. You groan as he turns you onto your back. “You feel feverish.”

“My stomach’s cramping.” You mention.

“Feverish, cramping.” You can hear the scratching of Severus’s quill. “Are you menstruating?”

“Not to my knowledge.” You mumble.

“Are you pregnant?” Severus curses suddenly. “Stay here!”

You hear Severus disapparate, leaving you alone and in pain. You pull a blanket from nearby and pull it over your head. Despite the pain, you’re just about fall asleep when you hear another crack as Severus returns.

“Drink—where’d you go?” Severus asks.

“Under here.” Your voice is muffled beneath the blanket. It gets pulled down a moment later, revealing your head to the non-cozy elements of your tent’s interior. You grumble about it.

“You look awful. Drink this.” Severus helps you sit up enough to drink two potions. One’s plainly a birth control potion and you try not to blush about you both forgetting about it until he asked. Again. The second you’re not sure of until you hand the vial back and feel the cramps begin to recede.

“Thanks.” You mutter. “Was that the antidote?”

“No, it’s just to alleviate your side effects. I made several, not knowing what your symptoms would be, but expecting it would take a couple of trials to make a version that has only a medically acceptable amount of dreadful side effects…with the end goal being synthesizing one that has no side effects for you specifically. We’re making progress.”

You’re frowning throughout the explanation.

“How do you feel now?” Severus pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, “You’re already less feverish.”

“Regular, I guess.” You say, “I don’t feel anymore acute though.”

“Well, let’s have breakfast first. Er, I’ll do it; you just lay there.”

You’re about to argue when you remember what you realized as Severus made you come your brains out the night before: he likes to care for things. You probably should have realized that much, much sooner. So despite the fact this is your tent and Severus is your guest, you let him fuss over and feed you.

Unfortunately, you learn Severus must not cook much. If the ham he bought wasn’t black when he purchased it, it certainly is by the time he puts it on a plate along with some bread and cheese.

“Sorry.” Severus says, his cheeks tinting pink. “I mostly know how to cook omelets. I didn’t think bacon would be that much harder.”

“This isn’t…” You stop, assess whether you want to risk offending Severus, before deciding you can’t spend your life wondering if you’re going to offend him. “This isn’t actually bacon though.” You point out.

“It’s…not?” Severus picks up a piece of singed ham from his own plate and bites into it. Little black specks of char go spilling as it crumbles against his lips. “Don’t—” Severus coughs, “Don’t eat that.” He takes your ‘bacon’ and goes and gets more bread and cheese.

After breakfast, Severus breaks it to you he’s planning to hold another apparition lesson.

“Severus…” You sigh, slumping against your pile of pillows. “Let’s…not. I’m already behind, I have work to do, I’m in an unfamiliar place—can’t it wait?”

“No.” Severus said emphatically. “You’ll be much busier next time. We’ll do this today, and tomorrow you can start on my list.”

“Ugh!” You groan and slump further until you’re laying boneless against the floor, hoping Severus forgets your here or takes pity on you.

“You’re worse than the blasted children. Up you get.” Severus puts a hand under either arm. You try to make yourself dead weight, but he lifts you anyway and sets you on your feet. You’re about to fall over intentionally when Severus takes your hand and yanks you into the glorious morning. It’s late morning, the sun is bright, and you’re warmer than you’ve been in months. It’s horrible.

“Severus, please, can we do something else?” You make your voice suggestive, hoping to distract Severus. Unfortunately, he actually laughs at your attempt.

“An admirable attempt. Your efforts are precious.” He says with a smirk.

“You didn’t think it so precious last night!” You snap, crossing your arm and stamping your foot like a child.

“Don’t be infantile.” Severus says, arranging the stones. “You’re the one who decided you didn’t want to let me think for you. You leave me no choice but to force you to prove to yourself you’re cleverer than you think you are.”

“That’s even dumber of a reason to learn to apparate than the other one!”

“Cease your whining and take my hand.” Severus holds out his for you. You kick the dirt around the campfire for good measure. Severus gives you a look. You huff, and snatch his hand ruefully. “Thank you. Now I’m going to apparate us.”

“Thanks for the warning.” You mutter.

Severus smirks at you again. “The greater the distance between you and your destination, the greater the likelihood of being splinched. We start by apparating somewhere in sight, to aid in the visualization. Most people are capable of apparating a few hundred miles once they get the hang of it. People who travel a lot for work can do up to seven, seven-fifty to a thousand. Extraordinary powerful witches and wizards can easily cross oceans via apparation.” Severus puts a hand on your neck and points your head to look across the meadow. “We’re going over there.” He says.

“Alright.” You comply. Severus counts down this time, from five, and then you’re about a dozen feet to the left of where you were. “Now me, right?”

“First: how many miles could someone who apparate if they worked in a different country?”

“I suppose it depends on the country.” You answer. “You said seven-fifty if they travel a lot. So it depends on how far away the country is.”

Severus smiles at you as he leads you across the meadow. “Do you know it’s roughly four hundred miles between Edinburgh and London?”

“Yes.” You say flatly. “I’m sure I’ve flown it more than you have.”

“Likely you have. Most people test their ability to apparate comfortably by the hundred mile. You should probably do fifty, or even twenty-five.”

“Because I’m not very good?” That makes sense, except it’s a moot point considering you can’t apparate.

“No, not because of that.” Severus lifts your chin with his knuckle. “Because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” You reply hotly.

“No?” Severus arcs an eyebrow. “Very well. You stay here and keep practicing. I’ve got some grading to catch up on.” Severus removes his hand from you and starts to walk to the tent.

“Wait!” You catch Severus by the wrist. “You can’t—I don’t even—what if I get splinched!?”

“I’ve brought half a hospital with me. I’ll be right inside. I could conjure a lawn chair, if it makes you feel better?”

“But—”

“Yes?” Severus is smirking at you again. You scowl back at him and throw his hand away from you.

“I can’t do it by myself, Severus!” You cross your arms.

“You can’t do it at all.” Severus points out, and it feels like a slap to the face. You feel your eyes begin to water and you turn around before he can see you cry. You open your mouth but close it again when your voice cracks before you manage to say anything. “Remind me again what’s stopping you from even trying?”

“There’s—” A tear spills down your face. “There’s no point.”

“Because you can’t do it.” Severus says. You nod at a tree. “But you can try when I’m holding your hand, as we’ve established.”

“That’s…that’s different.” You sniffle.

“How so?”

“Because you’re the one apparating. I’m just…along for the ride.” You take a deep breath, wipe your eyes, and turn around to face Severus. “I know you’re not going to fuck up. It’s not the same.”

“I see.” Severus steps toward you, “But it’s not fear, right?” His words are needles, but you shake your head.

“N-no.”

“You’re certain? Because it really, really sounds like you’re afraid.”

A million things bubble to the surface that you could say; that he has no right to call you afraid considering how cowardly he’s been the entire time regarding your relationship—that he’s been too afraid to tell you how he feels—that he’s still holding you at arm’s length despite last night—that at least you’re honest, meanwhile Severus hides seemingly everything from you. From everyone. The words glide over your tongue and threaten to pass your lips as your frustration mounts; you don’t even want to be doing this right now.

“What.” You say in a terse whisper. “Do. I. Have. To. Be. So. Fucking. Afraid. Of.” If you cross your arms any tighter, you’re liable to break a limb. Severus’s smirk turns into a frown. He closes the distance between you.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” Severus says. “You’re afraid to fail.”

You scoff. “Knowing I’m going to fail isn’t the same as fearing it, Severus.”

“And that’s why you know, isn’t it? You don’t have to feel how afraid you are if you just…know. Don’t you?”

Your frown deepens. “No.” But you’re not sure anymore. “I’d know if I was afraid. I’m not, I just—it’s not even worth the risk, Severus, I could get seriously injured. In the middle of nowhere! People die from splinching! People miscalculate and fall to their deaths or get impaled on the Eiffel Tower! It’s dangerous even when you know what you’re doing! I don’t! I’m not afraid, I’m just not a fucking moron!”

“Oh?” Severus looks suddenly entirely too pleased with himself.

“No, I mean—alright, I’m kind of a moron, but even I can—”

“You’re not a moron.” Severus said. “I’d know. I teach morons literally all day. If you were a moron, I’d have noticed by now.”

“Is that so? You don’t think you’ve been too distracted to make an accurate assessment?”

“I’m not you, I can assess your intelligence and get my cock sucked at the same time, thank you very much.”

“Now you’re just being crass.” You huff.

“And you’re being very difficult. Just admit you’re afraid of getting hurt—that’s what’s stopping you. Nothing else.”

“Fine!” Songbirds flee their nests as your voice echoes off the foothills. “I’m afraid of dying horribly—happy?!”

“Well, I meant specifically in regards to apparating, but I suppose that covers it. Shall I hold your hand then, flower?” He smiles at you like you’re not furious right now. You frown at him, then snatch his hand back and march the two you back to where you were before you apparated.

“Go on, then.”

“Show me again.”

“Why? You still remember what I did.”

“I don’t!”

“How many miles can a person who lives in Edinburgh, but works in Paris, apparate?”

“You said seven-hundred and fifty!” You snap.

“You remember.” Severus repeats. “Go on. I’m right here.” He gives your hand a squeeze. You want to tear it off his arm and chuck it in a stream. You attempt to apparate and nothing happens.

“It’s not working.” You say about ninety seconds later.

“Look at the ring.” Severus instructs. “There’s an ant crawling over that stone there. That one there is turned upside down—it’s still dark from the wet soil. That ones sort of triangular.”

You notice all the rocks. “OK? Sure.”

“Just think of those three—what they look like, how far apart they are from each other. Imagine drawing a line between each one, making a triangle. Then, close your eyes, and try to be inside the triangle.”

“Do you actually hear yourself right now?”

“If you don’t quit being a brat, I’m going home.”

You huff. You have half a mind to be even more of a brat, but you don’t really want Severus to leave. You just want to be doing literally anything else. You suppose you’ll be able to if you fail enough and Severus gets bored, and close your eyes. You imagine the stupid rocks and the stupid triangle and try very hard to be there—and then you hit the ground very, very hard.

“OW!” You and Severus shout in unison as you both hit the dirt. You roll away from Severus, clutching your wrist which was holding his hand, wondering how far you fell.

“You did it!” Severus is somehow up and about already. He tries to grab your hand and you pull it to your chest where you cradle it. It stings like a bitch.

“Don’t!” You tell him. “I think it’s broken or something. I knew this would happen.” You pout and try to figure out how to hold your wrist so it hurts as little as possible.

“No, you didn’t! You literally said—” Severus pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment. He shakes his head, crouches and holds out his hand. “Let me see?” You keep your wrist where it is. “Please? I’ll fix it.”

“Oh, really? You’re sure you don’t want to force me to learn how to mend broken wrists while we’re at it? Maybe I can break something else!”

Severus rolls his eyes at your tantrum and produces his wand from his sleeve. You hold out your wrist and he waves it over the limb. “It’s fractured. Not broken.”

“It hurts!” You inform him.

“I know.” He murmurs. Gently, he straightens your wrist. With a swish, a flick, and a deeply unsettling noise, you feel a quick snap, and then the pain is gone. “See? No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You say quietly, but you’ve calmed down now that you’re not in pain.

“You did it.”

“I broke my wrist.”

“Fractured—you did it.”

“I did it wrong. How far did we fall?”

“Does it matter? You did it.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, don’t you lie to me; I was there.” Severus entwines his fingers with those on your healed hand. “You did it.”

“But I—”

“No.” Severus asserts. “Do you think any of your former classmates were any more successful than you just were? I assure you, they were not, and I‘d know. I never miss the first few apparation lessons every spring; you can’t buy better entertainment. You did it.”

“I…” You look around. Your kneeling in the dirt smack dab in the center of the ring of stones. “Oh…I…did…” You don’t know how to feel. You sort of wish you hadn’t because now Severus is going to be an even bigger pain in the ass about it. “That doesn’t—I’m not—I can’t apparate anywhere still. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.” Severus puts his free hand on your shoulder. “It matters to me.”

“Why?” You feel like you’re about to cry again. “Why do you care?”

“Because I—” And you see it this time: the fear as what he realizes whatever he wants to say horrifies him. “Because it just does. You matter to me. And you’re…not very nice to yourself, I’ve noticed.” A strained expression on his face tells you he’s wrestling with whether he wants to say more. “And it fucking kills me you’re not nice to yourself over things which aren’t even true—like thinking you can’t do hard things because, obviously, you can, and I don’t mean obvious because now you’ve done it, I mean it’s been obvious, to me, for—for a bleeding long time, alright? And it’s been hell to watch you believe it and watch you tear yourself apart over it.” Severus huffs and curses. You don’t say anything; he still hasn’t said whatever he’s so afraid to say.

“I can’t do anything about it either, it feels.” He goes on. “Because all I know how to do is…that: make people think poorly of themselves for trying. To make them feel stupid, for trying.” Severus brushes his thumb over the back of your hand. “Then I met you, and I’ve never wanted to be a good teacher before, but I do now, and—I’m not doing a very good job, am I? Every time I try and help I break your wrist, or give you cramps, or poison you until you’re famished all the time, or get you pointlessly detained.”

“Fracture—Severus, most of those things are my fault, not yours.” You tell him. He looks at you like he doesn’t appreciate your saying so. “I—” You take a deep breath. “Look, I did it, didn’t I? That means you did it too.” You glare at him a moment, for making you admit it yourself. “Well done us. Right?”

Severus stares at you for a long while, then slowly starts to smile. He leans over and kisses you. It’s tender and sweet and sunlight dances across the forest floor as a warm breeze shakes the boughs of the trees.

“That’s right.” He murmurs as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. “Well done us.”