Fall

The start of term arrived too quickly for his liking, but at least it offered a distraction. The gentle breezes of summer gave way to the changing of the leaves, green into orange, red, yellow, and he fell into a familiar routine with his apprentice. After classes finished for the day (and he was finally free of dunderheads with no desire for knowledge) she would come down to the laboratory. He would greet her politely and shove away the urge to ravish her on the nearest worktable; she would reply cheerfully and inquire about his day. Sometimes he was honest, sometimes he was snarky, but she would always counter with a smile. He supposed she was far too used to his sharp tongue for it to do her any harm. She would then set about her potion for the day, concentrating intently on the instructions and procedures. He, in turn, would mark abysmal essays with scorching red or catch up on the latest journals. He often found himself staring at the pages without reading, his mind drifting to thoughts of her. He forced himself not to stare in her presence; now that their relationship had returned to a strictly platonic interaction, it would be unseemly for him to be caught compromising his morals.

And this continued. He allowed her a free evening for her birthday in September, and the brilliant smile on her face made his stomach rise to his throat. He caught a glimpse of her before dinner that night, in the company of Sidekicks #1 and #2, leaving the castle in a beautiful silver dress and a laugh on her mouth. He had waited up for her to return (although he rationalized this as extra patrols), and only after she had disappeared into her rooms had he retired as well. The next day he offhandedly asked about her night and rather wished he didn't, as he was then subjected to numerous mundane details about her friends' lives that he didn't care for. But it was hard to feel truly hostile with her voice happily filling the dungeon.

She excelled in her potion preparations, now that she wasn't thoroughly distracted every time she entered the laboratory. He, being used to compartmentalizing, saved his frustrations for his private rooms under his covers and the cover of darkness. It was highly annoying to admit that he missed her company and the conversations they had. They made a little small talk, but it had none of the easygoing ambiance from before, and the topics of conversation stuck strictly to the realm of potions. When she challenged him, it was a serious inquiry with none of the teasing lilt.

Halloween swept in on the bitter edge of a winter wind. He offered her the night off then as well - rumor was Harry bloody Potter would be stopping by Hogwarts to join students in the feast. Hermione declined, though, insisting that their current potion was significantly more important than seeing her best friend for the second time in as many months. So they skipped the feast - he had a selection of the meal brought down to the lab by a house elf; they ate by the light of fire glowing beneath the cauldrons. And when she left, he could pretend that she was still there, and he would take her back to his rooms, to his bed, and finish the night off right...

But she wasn't, and he didn't.

Winter

A cold wind swirled over the grounds near the tail end of term. Students and professors alike layered up, the fires were warmer than usual, and urns of hot chocolate joined the tables at dinner. The dungeons felt near unbearable, and even he himself admitted defeat, casting a surreptitious charm over the classroom so his charges didn't freeze to death.

Snow fell the day before the castle emptied for the holidays. No one's mind was much focused on their studies, but he kept them for the entirety of the lesson (knowing, he acknowledged with resignation, that he would have to teach the same lesson again when January rolled around). He was more than happy to see the students load onto the train, reveling in thoughts of an empty castle and minute social interaction.

She stayed, though. Muttered something about the potion they were formulating, but he could see through her lies. Her only alternative was one of two households in the far-flung countryside, and both would be filled with equal parts grief and joy. He couldn't blame her, really - who'd want to be surrounded by that for a week straight? So they worked together over cauldrons, exchanging pleasantries and nothing more, just like always.

Christmas was naught of significance; he dragged himself down to the small feast in the Great Hall for dinner, if only to see her face and her smile. After dessert, he unobtrusively slipped a wrapped package next to her arm as he passed her seat. She looked surprised, eyes wide and pink tingeing her cheeks. The next day she gave him a shy smile, opening her new lab journal to its first blank page. He didn't comment on the fact that he'd received nothing from her - he had no expectations.

It came as a pleasant surprise, then, when he walked into the lab on the morn of January 9 and spotted a brand new set of crystal vials, pristinely tied with a scarlet bow. He smirked at that.

Gryffindors.

Spring

The first buds of life made an appearance in early April - shortly followed by a downpour of English rain that darkened the skies and transformed the grounds into a giant mudpit. Filch was heard screaming at students tracking mud through the entrance hall, his grainy voice echoing down the corridors.

It was shortly after this that he began to notice her cutting her evenings short. Her work was still above par, but she simply wasn't putting in as many hours. Often she skipped dinner and he wouldn't see her for the rest of the night. Then, she requested an entire weekend off. He had rebuked her at once and it turned into a shouting match until she wore him down to a two-day weekend work-free. He felt like a fool; all she had to do was ask (or shout) and he would give her the world.

But it wasn't as if she knew that.

The free Friday she had asked for rolled around and he strategically hid himself in an alcove down the hall from her room, concealed by a Disillusion charm. At six (on the dot, he noted), a young man strode the corridor and sharply rapped on her door. Almost immediately she appeared in the door, with a smile that made his heart drop. That was his smile, the one that burned him from the inside out. His hands clenched into fists when they passed him, chatting about some mundane plans the young man had made for the weekend.

A few breakable objects spent time being abused once he got back to his room, the broken shards glittering on the floor. The storm raging inside him was breathtaking. He paced the stones furiously, gritting his teeth together. How dare she. How dare she! Didn't she know about the plans he had for them? The many nights he spent imagining them together at last, lips and bodies melding as one? His thoughts of her, simply curled up and reading on their bed in the evenings?

No.

She didn't know. Of course she didn't. He'd taken very painstaking measures to ensure that she wouldn't remember, wouldn't know, wouldn't imagine like he did. In all the possible scenarios he'd foreseen, it hadn't even crossed his mind that she would fall for someone else. She was his, and he was hers. Didn't she know...?

His train of thought led him to the inevitable conclusion: a two-day weekend could only mean one thing. She wasn't his anymore. He was not the only one who would know her body, know where to touch and where to kiss and how she breathed in the darkness. More glass hit the walls, splintering into a million irreparable pieces.

That night, his bed had never felt colder.

Summer

The arrival of the summer solstice was bittersweet. The students of Hogwarts emptied from the corridors, their gleeful laughter echoing over the grounds as the scarlet train arrived to take them back to London. He paced the dungeons, brooding, his fingers often rolling around a vial of silvery memories. She would be leaving within the next month or so, after the successful completion of her apprenticeship, following her ceremony. It felt like his last chance - to let her know how he felt, what he wanted, what they had shared. A small sliver of him doubted, though. She had her new bloke, and she seemed happy. Who was he to spoil that for her?

But he was selfish, and he wouldn't pretend otherwise. So when the day of her "graduation" arrived, he showed up to the ceremony in prestigious black robes, her memories stowed in his pocket. There she was, right in the front, looking every bit the woman he knew her to be. Her hair was curled on top of her head, and she wore no makeup save her natural radiance. His throat constricted when he looked at her - if none of this worked out, he feared he'd never recover. It certainly didn't help when he glanced a few rows back and saw her "friend" sitting near the aisle, looking every bit as happy as she.

The ceremony seemed to pass in a blur. Each of the apprentices was recognized by their mentor and joined them on stage to receive their certificate of completion. Too soon, the time had arrived for her turn. His throat was dry as he called her up, and when she ascended the stairs his hands trembled ever-so-slightly. She beamed as she approached him, and he fought to control his breathing with every step she took.

When she reached him, he gave her the rarest of smiles that only she could see. "Congratulations," he murmured, ignoring the surprise on her face. "You've surpassed every expectation anyone ever had of you."

"I had an excellent teacher," she replied, just as softly.

"Indeed." He passed the rolled parchment into her extended hand, and as she moved to pass him he grabbed her free hand and drew her close. He paused, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I wish for your future to hold all the happiness you deserve."

She looked him full in the face, confusion etched on her features. He pressed the vial into her palm. "Go on," he whispered, giving her a gentle push.

She left him, seemingly dazed by his actions. He adopted the stoic persona he was known for, even as she reached the man in the audience. The younger mad immediately pulled her into a hug, which caused her laugh to ring out over the crowd.

He slipped out of the Great Hall like a shadow, his footsteps heavy as he headed toward the lake. There was only one thing he could do now.

Wait.

Oh hai. I haven't forgotten this story or my wonderful readers, but college + work leaves little time for pleasure writing. Luckily, I have two weeks of vacation ahead of me. Hopefully I'll be getting the last chapter up before the end of those two weeks. Sooner rather than later, should I receive some reviews...