“Potion for Dreamless Sleep?” he repeats, and the harshness of his voice is curbed slightly by curiosity. That’s not to say it isn’t there, he’s as unpleasant as he always is when someone floos into his office to discuss business, but it’s muted, there’s something else underneath. Sev crosses his arms.
“Of course I can brew it. Though… I would be careful on the dosage. Misuse of Dreamless Sleep can lead to unpleasant side effects.” The eye Sev casts his visitor is critical. He understands why they’re asking, or at least suspects it. Current events have been weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. He’d be surprised to find someone who’s sleeping soundly, these days.
Wars do that. Sev has been in the thick of it, so it stands to reason that maybe, with this particular potion, he’s speaking from experience.
“If I am to brew this potion, you will follow my instructions, to the letter. This is not a cure, merely a temporary solution. Twice a week at most.” Coldness for emphasis, not disdain or disapproval. He must be understood, and understood clearly.
Lily knows she shouldn’t have come. She’s walked by many potions shops in the past few weeks, trying to work up the courage, and she knows she could get some from St. Mungo’s if she was desperate. But the thought of letting anyone know that she isn’t okay, that she isn’t functioning with this mess, makes her feel sick.
Asking Severus for anything makes her sick these days, too.
She never thought he could have so much power to hurt her. Never dreamed he would try. Yet he spends all his time with those who would slit her throat and wrinkle their noses at the blood as if it was dirt, as if it was mud. He would, too, she thinks, but that doesn’t mean she can make herself believe it 100% of the time.
Her hands ball into fists, hidden behind his desk, while he speaks to her like a child. She could brew this potion in her sleep, normally. Of course normally the bags under her eyes don’t seem to weigh ten tons and the world doesn’t spin and damn, are those her hands clutching the edges of his desk like it’s the only thing holding her up? She shouldn’t have come here.
Deep down, to the core of her, Lily doesn’t trust anyone else besides herself to make it right. If not Severus, then who? Who else has seen her weak and forgiven it?
❝ I know the side-effects, Sev. ❞ After all these years, she can’t quite bring herself to say his full name. To make that distance real and final. Her hands are holding the wood in front of her tightly enough to leave her knuckles white. She sort of feels like she’s floating. Lily has not slept in two days. ❝ I have to recite them every time I give this out. Give me more credit than a first year, at least. ❞ She wants to hurl worse words than that, wants to point out that while her filthy blood might one day stain his crisp white shirt, it hasn’t hampered her ability to brew potions. But she bites her tongue, wanting to scream, wanting to haul him close and hold onto him, like she did as a child. As if it was the safest thing in the world.
