"Now I know you flatter," Themis said, and it stung him because he really did not try to. Flattering would be deceitful. Maybe because of her uncanny ability to look inside of him, Samuel had been very truthful with her. He was not above lying. He had done so countless times for various reasons: big lies, small lies, consequential lies, inconsequential lies. But he had not lied to Themis, he thought, not yet.

As they were, with her leaning against him, he still could not see her face, she not his. Perhaps that was merciful. Her voice carried such a strain into her next question that he saw the expression of emotion that must accompany it in his mind's eye nonetheless. He chose his words very carefully: "I felt your magic making a connection. It traveled through my hands and my arms upwards. It was a very"—here he searched for a word—"particular sensation." If that was the right choice of expression, he did not know. "I felt it pulling at me, lightly. I cannot say that I was forced. It felt more like an invitation. I could have held back, or simply moved my hands to sever the connection. But I did not want to. I did what felt natural."

He said the last part with finality. It was the truth, although he omitted one thing. He was asking himself if the sheer volume of magic that his system had set free at once would have been the same without her presence provoking it. It was so highly atypical for him. Eventually, he would venture to find an answer to that question. But not today.

A house-elf appeared and was very distraught at the state of things in his office. Samuel felt slightly unreal. He let Themis deal with the elf and stayed where he was and said nothing, he just kept holding on to her. If that was for her sake or for his sake, he could no longer tell. He kept looking at the light that now fell through the panes of the windows, where the heavy clouds had broken. When Themis rose, he rose with her. They went to his rooms then, and he briefly thought how strange that was. He never took people into the places where he slept, if he could avoid it. Why he did not like to, he could scarcely articulate; it was where he tried to find peace, a difficult and delicate matter. But now, surprisingly, he felt that he did not mind. He was glad to be out of the office. These rooms were smaller, simpler, and more comfortable. It was warmer and less overwhelming; the colors were dark and muted. There were two armchairs, a fireplace, a small table, a chaise longue, some of his personal belongings. Two doors led further back. One to his dressing room. Through the entryway of the other, his bed could be seen. The prevailing atmosphere was one of austere tranquility—quite different from the rest of his quarters.

Samuel's shirt stuck wet to his back under his waistcoat; his hands were cold. At her request, he hesitated. Then, he pulled in the footstool that belonged to her armchair and sat down close enough to Themis to allow her to clean up the cuts on his forehead and neck. She would be able to tell, when touching his face, how feverish the skin there was. Permitting that felt like he was demanding a lot from himself. It occurred to him, sitting in front of her, that since turning from a boy to a man, no one had ever fussed over him like she did now. The tender kindness of the gesture touched him, and that exasperated Samuel. He could not help but avert his eyes from her gaze. He felt intensely vulnerable. But pulling away seemed at the same time so impossible that it did not even occur to him. It was perhaps simply too late for that.

---

The following 1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post:1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post
   Themis Lyra

---

Threadlog

“I could have held back, or simply moved my hands to sever the connection. But I did not want to. I did what felt natural." Themis felt something release in her chest at his assertion. “I also followed my instincts. That’s what scares me, Samuel. I did what felt right.”

She needed the break that Tilly gave her and, when her empty flask of wiggenweld was full again, the wine glasses were filled, and the meal laid at the small table (with two new, appropriate chairs), Themis had to thank the elf the way she had since childhood. Dropping to her knees, ignoring the ache in her joints, Themis hugged the small elf in gratitude. Placing a grateful kiss to Tilly’s head when she heard the outer doors to classroom and office close and lock. Sinking into an armchair was a blessing.

She gave little thought to what she required of him in her request. It didn’t occur to her that she required his vulnerability, when all she had done is struggle before him today. "Please, take it. I promise, Tilly would only bring us potions from the infirmary. And it helps immensely. I’m almost feeling human again.” She managed to joke, even as the feel of her blood and sweat-drenched gown pressed against her.

She said nothing when he averted his eyes, the gesture now feeling like a gift to them both, in this moment. She was gentle in her touch, carefully wiping his face clear of sweat and blood. It struck her, as she ran the cloth to his throat, just how vulnerable they had both been forced to be today. She would not ask him to remove his waistcoat, it seemed too personal of a request, now that he sat before her, claiming responsibility for their current state.

She rinsed the cloth, smiling when the water changed itself. Tilly certainly thought of everything. Turning the cloth to her own face, Themis tried to will some sense of normalcy into herself. Regardless of intention or fault, they had come too close to disaster today. She could avoid it, could move past this moment and ignore their error, but she would not make the same mistake again.

Setting aside the cloth and leaning forward, she placed a hand gently on his knee. She would ask more of him still tonight. “Come back to me, Samuel. Tell me, the next time we both do what feels natural, how do I protect us?” She did not ask if, she knew they would be at the crossroads again.

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

She was very careful with him. It was a quiet moment that seemed to extend longer than it really lasted. Her words and the gentle touch at his knee called him back from the space he had been adrift in. Samuel looked at her and noticed that he felt better. He let his hand settle on hers briefly and searched for an answer to her question and felt suddenly that something about this was amusing.
"I suppose if we both continue doing what feels natural to us, we will continue to look around in terror and amazement at where it lead us," he said and laughed. That seemed to be the course they were on. Then he returned to a serious tone. "I am glad that you consider a next time at all." He thought about her tears and what a mess this had devolved into with such shocking speed. He thought how her kindness and grace ought to be repaid by him doing away with the bloody streaks still left on her face; at the same time, what he made feel safe for her to do to him by the way he held himself restrained might be more complicated the other way around; there was a difference. But as he thought that, her hand was on his knee. The distance meant to protect people from each other was eroding away under their feet. And what that was doing to him, Samuel deliberately turned his attention away from.

"We will return to laying a foundation for you. If you learn how to dissolve transmutations, you will acquire a greater degree of control and a way to defuse unanticipated situations. And I shall know better what is coming for me, when we approach this particular experiment again."

With that, he moved to reach first for the flask and then for the wine. He felt like slowly ascending to the surface after being forced under in hot water. His body was cooling and quieting. Samuel poured both of them a glass. "Fortunate for me that you have such a friend in the castle," he said and drank the potion. The house-elf had looked at him with fear and he had kept back. But he was thankful for what had been provided. "Do you need anything? If you like, you can use the dressing room. Anything I have around here is at your disposal." If there was something he could provide, he would. In any case, he intended to go in there and wash up and change before he ate.

---

  

---

Threadlog

Something tender in the moment stretched between her question and his response. Their evening had already been too sharp, too deadly to warrant anything else. She soaked in the warmth of his hand, reassuringly alive against her. She responded to his assessment with a laugh poorly disguised. “Yes, it was the terror I would most regret losing.” She appreciated his good humor more than he knew. Themis was mentally at war, her self-protective impulses already dissecting the day and building a solid argument for why it should never happen again. The case against further association, experimentation, and exploration wrote itself. Themis met his eyes then and watched him go through his own mental paces. She gave him a soft nod, her voice suddenly out of reach as she made her decisions. She was about to show a stunning lack of regard for good sense.

“And perhaps I don’t go about coaxing your magic. Perhaps we will be sufficiently prepared if I keep my metaphorical hands to myself.” It was a worthless suggestion already. It had twice been his hands that had centered her and brought them safely back from the edge. Maybe she was more of a danger to them both without his intervention. For someone who historically operated independently, it was a horrible thought.

She felt something relax in her chest when his shoulders released. Every further indicator that she had not ruined this nascent partnership was a relief. She rose, suddenly uncertain if she had the magical strength to make some improvements to her appearance without calling the house elf back. Still, she needed some further distance from the blood on her gown and took him up on his offer. He might have been surprised, as her arrival in his dressing room was met with intense laughter. Laying neatly on Samuel’s dressing table was one of her simple autumn gowns, the blue matching her eyes, or the summer sky she already missed the sight of. She did what she could to her hair, pulling it into order as a quick, tight braid. She looked almost presentable, if the observer didn’t know what had transpired in the last few hours.

Stepping back into his living space, it clicked that he had welcomed her farther into the private reaches of his life. Besides her matron and friend, Themis hadn’t allowed any of her colleagues past her office in years. It never occurred to her. Humbled by the gesture and, experiment behind them, suddenly at a loss, Themis found herself loitering near the fireplace, unsure if she should sit. Making the choice for both of them, she gave a wave toward his dressing room. ”I will wait for you, if that is alright.” If she took a sip of her wine to steady her nerves, it was well-earned.

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

If she kept her metaphorical hands to herself, they might not be able to achieve the same effect, Samuel thought. So he would like to dissuade Themis from that sentiment. But now was not the moment for that. More time needed to pass for him to recapitulate and compare this evening to his first try at the matter, which had gone so wrong. Maybe then he would find out what it was that she did that had made this work.

He said nothing and watched her disappear into his dressing room. There was an absurdity to that; his life transpired outside of these rooms. He shut it out and kept everything that was disorderly and perplexing and unpalatable about what he did and who he was on the other side, so that he might have a respite. Where most he did was sleep and get up and get dressed and get undressed, wash and shave and all that it took to be a person out there and to unbecome that person when the day was over and done with. He leaned back into the armchair and felt that while he was unsettled, he was also strangely fine with her walking around between his clothes and belongings in there. But why was she laughing? He did not remember keeping around anything particularly amusing.

Samuel decided to drink some of the wine instead of pondering that question and waited, looking out the window. Night approached over the castle grounds. Themis returned wearing something different, a gown of hers that she must have gotten down here by some way of magic. He curtailed in his mind any sort of dwelling on her looks and just smiled at her and got up.

"I will be right back," he said to her. In his dressing room, he took off his waistcoat and the soaked shirt and cleaned himself up at the wash table in the corner. He was tired, but this tiredness was not in his face, which he saw faintly in the dark mirror, or from his mind. It came from deep inside his body. This particular feeling he knew, but had not felt in a very long time.
Yet, when the crisp fabric of a fresh shirt settled on his skin, it reinstated a sense of civility and decorum that had been lost to all the chaos. Sparing himself from putting on a waistcoat and jacket, he returned.

He sat down at the table. The house-elf had set it expertly. She had even summoned a tablecloth. Suddenly, a sense of formality crept up on Samuel and that he found funny.

"It seems that normalcy is reasserting itself. We can pretend like nothing happened," he said to Themis and picked up his fork.

---

The following 1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post:1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post
   Themis Lyra

---

Threadlog

Themis needed a brief respite as Samuel disappeared into his dressing room. She took in his private rooms, knowing how precious such access was. Another professor may have pulled aside and explained the need for caution, but Samuel wasn’t ignorant or as doe-eyed foolish as some new professors. She was not here because he invited the world into his life and lounge area.

In truth, if she didn’t think he was as jealous of his privacy as she was of hers, she may never have agreed to tonight. She sipped the wine, chosen as a host’s gift for him, and took in his tower. Naturally, there was a similarity to all the Hogwarts classrooms, offices, and living quarters. It was up to the skill of the occupant to make more of the spartan rooms. Themis wasn’t surprised by the spartan nature of a bachelor's quarters, but by the care he chose in his furnishings. It was clear Samuel had not been vain in his selections from the rank-and-file Hogwarts furnishings, but he had turned his eye to classic, well-made, inviting fixtures. His rooms were dark, of no surprise to Themis, but they weren’t lacking in warmth or sophistication.

Her consideration was broken when he emerged from his dressing room. Themis’ mouth went dry. As they were building a working relationship, Themis was compelled to tell him he was too handsome to strut about in such a state of undress and expect intelligent conversation. Granted, intelligent conversation was rare, and she wouldn’t have deprived the man of his freedom. This, naturally, was her only reason for staying silent.

She turned her attention to dinner and was not shy in her appetite. She knew from their first foray that she would be hungry after the transmutation, but Themis was still amazed at how much effort she put into not inhaling the food in front of her. She was mid-chew when Samuel’s joke hit her just slightly off-center.

She smiled and turned her attention back to her plate in consideration. Tilly’s intervention and their own ingrained propriety had set a new normal, but it sat wrong with Themis. Clearing her pallet and trying to clear her mind, Themis tried not to stare or analyze when she challenged, “And if I don’t wish to pretend? If it mattered to me?”

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

Samuel stopped eating and saw that she had her gaze half turned away from him. Perhaps someone had once told her about the effect her eyes had on people, and now she tried to be careful with them. It had nothing to do with the color; they were of deep blue with a bright and cool-toned sunburst pattern around the pupil. Neither was it the shape. It was the way she locked on unflinchingly to whatever was in her focus and seemed to extract information without regard if the rightful owner wished or wished not to part with it. If uninvited, that could certainly be off-putting.
"You can look at me," said Samuel. He had already made peace with that quality of her character. He appreciated her for it. It forced him into honesty. That could only do him good, right?
"If that is so, we do not pretend."
He now had to ask himself why he had felt compelled to make that joke at all. It was perhaps because the sudden arrival of propriety had increased the dissonance with his inner state. It strengthened the impression that all the things around him were no longer stable, but placed on an incline and slowly sliding out of where they were supposed to be at rest.
"Perhaps we have the impulse to pretend only if something matters in truth so much that articulating its magnitude troubles us," he added.

Suddenly he wished that he had not forgone waistcoat and jacket. The shirt he was wearing was hardly more revealing and he had buttoned it up as high as was customary, but the absence of structure and layers did make him feel half-dressed now. Usually this was appropriate for this room, but now it was no longer. Another net of safety that he had discarded without thinking about it.
Samuel emptied his wine glass and with the resigned knowledge that there was nothing else to do to make this easier on them, he refilled it and offered a top-up to Themis.

---

  

---

Threadlog

She felt a bristle of irritation, her hackles rising. Her frustration wasn’t with him, but with the rules so ingrained in her mind that had her feeling shy after what they’d experienced together. She dug deeper into the thought, knowing that looking weak in front of him was mortifying, but perhaps there was something to fear in strength as well. She had not been in control today, but she had felt powerful. One without the other was a dangerous, unbalanced thing. Perhaps that would be her role in this, to provide structure and control while his strength was free to create and morph. The thought was a balanced one, but it left her unsatisfied all the same. Now that she had a hint of what her magic could do, consequences and all, she was eager to explore. She would learn from watching him, but the idea of embracing that power again was sobering.

She was going too deep into her mind when he called her back gently. She met his eyes and did nothing to mask her relief when he spoke. "Perhaps you are right." There was no ‘perhaps,’ she knew the truth of what he said. Something had shifted in her, a spark of curiosity turned to a flame of discovery. She hadn’t known there was anything to miss, something she lacked in her education and training, but now she found her attention on alchemical equations, her view of the stars molding to fit her research.

Forcing herself past her inhibitions, Themis declared. "This matters to me. I do not know fully why, but it does. I want to know how to be strong enough that I can contain our magic, I want elements to bend for me the way they did for you." She was still awestruck that in their chaos, somehow he not only made a blade but duplicated it. She considered for a moment, took a sip of her wine to buy herself the time, before rejecting the fearful voice in her head that warned her against disclosing, "More than anything, I want to see what we can do, if I have the potential that you say. I want to know what is on the other side of our perceived limitations." She made the conscious effort to remain physically open, resisting the urge to cross her arms or some other gesture of self-protection. Wanting made her vulnerable, admitting her lack of mastery forced humility. Neither sensation was pleasant, but the alternative, any form of dishonesty in this, felt unacceptable.

---

  

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

"All my promises to you are in place. As is my estimation of your potential," Samuel said and met her gaze. He could not find the words for the way it brought him relief to hear that after today, she was still on this path with him. He thought that by the sound of it, she was more determined than before. When he had made the offer to her at the night of the dinner party, despite her bravado, there had been hesitation and doubt. And he worried about the possibility that she might run away from him. That was a more unacceptable outcome to him than ever before.
"Our only goal is exactly that. To see how far we can go beyond what we imagine. There are certain boundaries to what can be done, but even today, we have crossed one that I had given up on."

He took another sip of his glass. His dinner plate was already finished. Now the white stretch of tablecloth between them seemed a bit too wide and too stifling.
"There seems to be an issue of magical compatibility that dooms most attempts to achieve transmutations while two people operate actively within the circle at the same time. The result is usually an immediate recoil. For that reason, apprentices are forbidden from trying. Of course, for some, that only increases the allure."
His smile was only halfway there. When he had tried it in Prague, that was exactly what happened. That was the first time that Samuel had felt in his heart that death was no longer a faraway concept, but already stalking around the place they lived. What they had done today was different on many levels and in a way that he did not completely understand yet.
"There are some who have achieved it, but it s very rare. Most famously in recent times Nicholas Flamel and his wife. He told me it was true when I worked for him in Paris, but refused to say more on the matter."

Samuel turned the wineglass between his fingers and looked at Themis. He felt a wave of pride and affection and increasingly like he was headed for some sort of trouble. Not sure what to do about it now, he directed his attention instead towards what lay ahead of them.
"Before we try again, we shall work on what you can do, on your own."

---

  

---

Threadlog

After today, he was still willing to teach her, to learn with her. He would meet her where she was, guide them both forward. His students were more fortunate than they knew. “Then we won’t give up on each other.” It was all she could manage in words.

She was grateful he brought her back to the academic, this she could understand. His confidence in her abilities and the way he communicated gave her hope they could accomplish the near-mythical things he spoke of. What little she knew from her reading stopped far short of what Samuel had shown her. She chose to believe him.

His theory of compatibility made sense to her, it resonated with the math in the stars. Outside of astrology, she hadn’t thought to apply the practice to people or magic. She had questions about his time on the continent, she wanted to know so much about what made the boy she’d known into the master of alchemy before her. She made a note to ask him, but the shift in his mood paused all questions. There were some things she had no right to ask.

While she knew better than to ask what was behind the shadow in his eyes, she couldn’t resist the urge to support him. She chose the only way she could think of. Thankful that Tilly hadn’t chosen anything the size of a formal dining table, Themis laid her hand out for him. It was an offer of comfort as much as it was a reminder that she was with him here freely as his ally.

She could leave his time in Prague alone, but she couldn’t help herself. “You worked with Flamel? He and his wife,” She paused, eyes betraying her surprise. “You mean Chrysopoeia. That, or the making of the Philosopher’s Stone.” She couldn’t imagine such a thing as dinner conversation, was finding the whole matter boarding on absurdist, but she caught his eye and felt herself grinning. She raised her glass with her free hand, “You are such a Slytherin.” She said it with a confidant affection she felt buzzing just beneath her skin. He was a mystery, but they say Caesar was ambitious.

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

Samuel considered her hand laid out on the table for a second. Its narrow shape and the delicate taper of her fingers had become familiar to him in a rather short time span. He would be able to draw them from memory already, he was sure. The natural thing was to let his own join it, so that was what he did. Their touch was light. It seemed there was something daring about it and something very careful. He knew it could not linger there forever. But he understood the offer of comfort and the tactfulness of Themis keeping her questions to herself.
About his time in Paris he could tell her, to a point.

"When I arrived in the city at 26 years of age, I set out to find him. And I did. Although neither the Philosopher's Stone nor turning things into gold was something he involved me in. In truth, I do not think that he trusted me much. Flamel is kind in his own way but also a very strategic man. Very careful. His unbelievable age has left him fragile and there were tasks in his laboratory he did not want to undertake himself anymore. So I did those for him. But he kept me far away from his most valuable secrets and it was clear to me that trying to pry would be very unwise."

Samuel recalled the creative way he would have been incinerated if he had tried to open the tomes that Flamel kept his equations in. He never attempted it, but he had taken a cursory glance at the runes protecting the room where he stored them.

Looking back now, he understood why Nicholas had been very reserved around him. The young man coming from Prague had been terrible. Very hard and very vulnerable and cruel, protecting his suffering like a most valuable possession and talking of it to no one. He would not have trusted himself, either. Samuel ought to be grateful. If the alchemist had refused him back then, he was not sure what would have become of him. But he had done good work for Flamel to repay him, he knew that.

He looked at Themis and laughed about her expression.
"What is so Slytherin about that? If anyone is exemplary for their house it is you, Themis." He smiled at her, then remembered something he had never told anyone. "You know, that ragged old hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor but then decided that having a harder time would serve me better and sent me and my muddy blood straight to the dungeon."
It seemed that their glasses were empty again already. He moved to refill them.

---

  

---

Threadlog

She hadn’t considered him rejecting her offered hand until it rested between them for a beat. It struck her then just how many different, little ledges she’d stood on today. Themis was not risk-adverse, but she wasn’t the sort to seek them out. In her short time with Samuel, she had become very good at both risk-taking and risk-seeking. Before she could grow too self-critical at the path they were charting, Samuel’s hand was in hers. Neither held too tightly, but the warmth of his hand seemed to send a signal to calm her spinning mind. Whatever challenge lay next in store, they were safe now, and whole.

“I think the nature of your work makes for secrets and for punishing fools. I assume that a man like Flamel has dealt with many that would use his knowledge to questionable ends.” Themis could think of many ways the logic and discipline of her study could be applied to darker things, but it was far from alchemy. The nature of alchemy was defiance, not deference to nature; it was the art of playing a god. She looked at the man bent on scaling Olympus with her and found that she rather liked their odds.

She gave his hand an near-imperceptible squeeze before gently pulling away in mock offense. “You say exemplary but say it the same way people say ‘brave’ when they mean ‘reckless.’” She raised her eyebrows in challenge, grinning at her own expense. The Sorting Hat had said something similar to her, as it weighed her future. She had wondered early in her Hogwarts career if the hat was wrong and that maybe Ravenclaw was meant for her. The feeling faded and now she knew she was where she belonged, but those early days had been so different.

“I can only assume the hat saw your ambition and potential and wanted you to shine through adversity. That, or my belief that the Hat is a sadist stands. And to hell with everyone in the dungeon that ever called you or any of us such a thing. From what I remember, you wreaked havoc on the little cowards in your house. It caused a bit of chaos.” Themis remembered Samuel’s sharp tongue and sharper wit from shared potions classes. He seemed to share her disdain for pureblood politics and was about as subtle as she had been as a girl. In Gryffindor, Themis’ bold voicing of her worldview could inspire heated debate, but she was never shunned for it or treated as less. Proving yourself in Gryffindor wasn’t just a matter of blood and class. “For what it’s worth, I think the Hat did choose correctly. You’re a credit to a house that doesn’t often earn it.”

Her eyes went to the bottle and then squinted in amusement at her observation. “It seems Tilly enchanted the wine as well.” The wine level in the bottle reset when the bottle was set back on the table, keeping the bottle full. Themis owed the elf another round of gratitude. It had been a most unexpected evening.

---

  

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

When she pulled away, Samuel had for a moment the impulse to not let her. There were, he had often thought, two parts of him that wanted to operate independently of each other. One ran on existential kinds of instincts and propelled him into action sometimes faster than he could think. The part, that was connected to the way he spoke, his ambitions and commitments, and how he saw and presented himself, was disquieted at the inclinations of the other side often. It was now. He put his hand on his knee below the table. It rested there with some tension.

Themis was a very good conversationalist. She got him talking. The way she listened to him and looked at him and caught his words and built on them, he felt like he sat in the center of a bright and warm light. It felt good. Or maybe, it was the wine. Whatever it was, he was not used to it. Samuel was used to managing conversations according to his wants and inclinations—to move them here and there, but not because he wanted to reveal himself.

"If I ever tell you that you are reckless, you can be sure I mean it as though I said 'brave'," he returned and smiled at her again.

"The hat is perhaps a benevolent sadist. It is remarkable how consequential that old thing was to our lives. Many of these cowards I met again when I started working in London. That was interesting. I think it very fitting that they made you head of the house, by the way. Even when I was a boy still and you the prefect, it would have not surprised me that this would be your trajectory. I shall never ascend to that position for Slytherin, because Professor Valenduris will outlive me."

There was a slight buzz about his body now and he leaned back and gave the wine bottle a funny look.
"Ah, I knew something was not right about that. We could not possibly have had this little of it."
He rested his chin on his left hand and felt that his face was still a little bit warmer than it ought to. There was a deep exhaustion waiting to take him, but right now the energy they had somehow acquired over the course of this unexpected dinner held it at bay.
"At this rate, I will be properly drunk after about 20 more minutes of this."

---

The following 1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post:1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post
   Themis Lyra

---

Threadlog

She was a woman that smiled and laughed readily but rarely like this. She’d been called a sphinx more than once, her smile often a tool to unsettle. She did not allow many near enough to hear this laugh. She felt warm, tense muscles relaxing. Good sense told her this was the wine, but she marked this feeling, this sense of peace. The warmth in her face, she would blame on the wine, but the sense of comfort and ease she owed to her companion.

His assessment earned him a surprised little hum and chuckle. “I can recklessly say that I think the old man will outlive us all. And you haven’t sat through a staff meeting yet. Without fail, I manage to ask something that annoys him enough he looks like he might poison my tea.” She wore the last as a badge of honor. Now, as a head of house, she felt an added responsibility to challenge what she thought outdated and pointless in Hogwarts’ operation. She didn’t seek division, but she wouldn’t meekly accept decisions.

She took a sip of her refilled glass before setting it aside. She moved to mirror him, propping her chin on her bridged fingers. “Then I say we enjoy the last nineteen before we both turn back into responsible adults.” It was funny, how she felt comfortable enough to play with him, to say irresponsible things and not fear his dismissal. He was owed more than good wine for it. “Thank you, Samuel, for tonight,” with care, she continued, “Thank you for protecting me.”

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log

"Stop me when my minutes are up, then." He took another sip. Although the point to behave like responsible adults they had both missed, for this evening at least, a long time ago.
"Don't. That is my responsibility, for what I ask of you. And I learned that it is my own brand of folly, that I need to protect you from, too."

He registered from the darkness outside and the change in atmosphere that their time was running out. It was natural that their ways would part soon, for it was getting late and they could only keep doing this for so long before they had to start questioning what it was they were doing.
At least this time she would not have to climb the stairs to the tower in her state; Samuel had since connected the fireplace to the Floo network.

"Take good care of yourself", he said and saw the signs of exhaustion in her face. "Today was very taxing. We should allow ourselves to rest for a good number of days, before we continue"

---

The following 1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post:1 user Likes Samuel Griffith's post
   Themis Lyra

---

Threadlog

“Forgive me if I lose track of time.” She added far too coyly for her own good. She enjoyed the wine and his company; enjoyed being an adult without concerns for a few moments. The weight behind his words caught her off guard. She was primed to argue with him, to assert that she knew damn well when she was rescued and to not make her say it again, but she thought better of it. “You ask and I freely give.” She reminded, needing him to understand that she wasn’t some agentless creature. She would show him, in time.

When he finally called her attention to the time, she went pale before going red. She clapped a hand over her mouth, not able to keep her laugh from turning to a snort. “I apologize, I truly did lose track. I would argue about the need for rest, but I cannot even read a clock. I think tomorrow, I will thank you.” She rose, already aware of the strain in her muscles that wiggenweld couldn’t touch.

She passed him on the way to his fireplace, as their inner rooms were now connected. As she passed him, she considered, weighing was would be welcome and what was overstepping her welcome. She laid her hand on his arm for a moment, meeting his eyes. "Whatever you say of it, thank you, Samuel, truly."

---

The following 1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post:1 user Likes Themis Lyra's post
   Samuel Griffith

---

Lou made magic!

Thread Log