Sᴘᴇʟʟᴄʀᴏssᴇᴅ. Severus x OC

Cᴏɴɪғᴇʀᴏᴜs Bʟᴏᴏᴅ

It's time to revisit the old times. Sprinkles in time. One more, today.

Mharii brings a hand around the door's frame, peeking into her dorm. A cleared floor; everything set up within the space. Merely a few finishing touches. She drew her head back into the bathroom, facing the gilded mirror. Drawing her hands down her sides, over the curve of her hips, and spreading with the dress. She leaned in, adjusting the level on either sleeve halfway down her shoulder; the black neckline just above her breasts. And a healthy, airy dip deep into her bosom.

Yes. Once again, eversince that fated September's day in the Forbidden Forest, that fine rayon garment lay folded at her bedside. On the nightstand's little corner, her hands running through the fabric's grooves she can no longer feel. The loose threads at the ends; the tiny webs of tearings inflicted upon it. Yet, the damage was not so enough to degrade its beauty.

Just as the inferno had spared hers.

And now, she welcomed the lovely darkness she adorned herself with once again, and it brought forth memories both bitter yet sweet.

She wore nothing beneath the dress. The arts of the practice were to allow the body to breathe; to find an ancient nature in all its surroundings.

Mharii could not feel the air's sacred touch liberating her senses as she once had. Yet the memory whisked a touch in itself.

With one final glance, she entwined her fingers about her black wand, stepping her barren feet into the dorm.

It may have been a chamber. And curtains draped over even the window's corners. Sealing off the day to cast this chamber into nocturnal delights. Darkness.

Beeswax candles of various sizes and heights encircled a center in which assorted wishbone-shaped twigs. Clear quartz and obsidian shards alternated between them, symbolizing clarity and warding off negativity. Pink salt, derived from the Himalayas, lined a generous circle outside the candles.

A light tap scratched by her nightstand. Mharii glanced across, hiked up her dress, and wove around the setup. She brushed aside the curtain, squinting at the intrusion of daylight, only to smile at the black feathers flapping against the glass. She eased it up a notch, and Ontario swept against the curtains. She shut out the world once again, and with a readjustment of the curtain, she returned herself to darkness and candlelight.

Ontario passed over the center of the Pagan scene, his talons dropping a clear, ruddy, crystallized bead onto Mharii's outstretched palm.

She knelt down onto her knees, her dress pooling around her. "Thanks, Ontario." She held the uneven bead to her eye, gazing through it at a candle. Then a sniff. She held out her fingers, and sure enough, fragrant remnants, sticky to the eye, rubbed on her pads. Merely frozen outside, fallen into snow. "Coniferous blood," she confirmed, restating the ingredient necessary for the spell. Tree resin.

Ontario had superior senses. He chose spruce, one of her favourite scents.

Mharii eyed the wooden bowl of water she had positioned in the center, and dropped the bead of coniferous blood in it. Her long sleeves draped over the bowl's rim, her fingers twirling as she channeled a graceful will into the ritual.

Plunk.

The light, hollow splash fell on her ears, droplets escaping onto her sleeve. Glinting specks of candlelight onto her; like that of a raging forest memory.

Ontario perched safely on her pillow, his big black eyes too, seeing an old memory resurrect.

Removing her hands from the bowl's rim, she postured her spine straight, folding her legs. She raised both arms, cupping her palms in a form of surrender. The wand entwined in her fingers as a channel, draping down in the direction of her long sleeve.