"I'm always careful." She couldn't help but wink at him, "Or at least I was once." This was closer to the truth when she considered her situation. She preferred to move through the world in an orderly fashion and tended to step back and analyze before committing to actions—or so she was when she wasn't near Samuel. When the two of them were together, her idea of caution changed. Her sense of self-preservation became a secondary need. Their experiments were dangerous, and both of them knew what happened when the urge for just one more little discovery nearly pushed them to ruin. There was more care now, more structure to their work that gave the illusion of safety, but there was no way to carefully alchemical, not that she could see. Samuel proved her point by resting her hand on his core, Themis feeling a now-familiar buzz in her blood when her hand fell to the symbol in the middle of his torso. The structures on his body were alive with a power of their own, his magic seeming to coax hers, pulling for her to embrace the addictive sensation of flexing her power. She didn't need his warning to know that nothing good could come of her testing her magic on him. She wondered if he could feel her as she did him, magic calling magic where her skin met runes. What must it feel like to magnify her strength by making the body a conduit for magic deemed too dangerous? A shiver went through her as she considered his earlier ominous question. Were she to need such markings, would she be able to wear them as he did? Could she sacrifice her body to serve some higher magic? The lack of a definitive 'no' felt prophetic. She didn't know how to reconcile with that.
Themis found herself looking backward at the younger iterations of herself. She could barely recognize the versions of the witch she imagined. The younger her couldn't conceive of the witch kneeling naked in a bed with a man who wasn't Daniel. If she was honest, the younger version of her had no wish to be so exposed to anyone, Daniel in particular. She hadn't loved him and saw little issue with her ambivalence. Her marriage had been about practicality and security. When she thought of her motivations now, it was clear that pleasing Uncle Horace was her goal. She disliked it when he worried; found it unacceptable that he should be concerned for her when they had academic and professional goals to occupy their time. She'd questioned before if she ever loved Daniel, thought back to the reckless boy in Gryffindor two years her senior. He had been her friend for her first five years, a frequent companion at their rowdy house table. He'd tutored her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, couldn't imagine that it wasn't her favorite class. He'd like to show off even then, and, at the time, it was almost endearing.
Daniel was fine, perfectly acceptable, until the incident in her fifth year. She had seen something in him then that should have remembered as a woman. She'd made enemies of the entire quidditch team the night she reported their misconduct to their head of house, nearly got the whole lot of them expelled. Perhaps she would have felt some remorse for her actions, and been able to empathize with her housemates' need to celebrate. Maybe she could have allowed teenage indiscretion to be what it was, but that was not her path. There were alternate paths she could have chosen, but it was Daniel who made her decision. His entitlement irked her. When confronted after hours sneaking back to the common room, drunk on firewhiskey and adrenaline, Daniel hadn't seemed the least bit sorry. The lack of remorse was distasteful, but it had been something else that set her resolve to ruin the evening. One of the beaters joked about keeping his girl in line, and Daniel had been foolish enough to laugh. Always the ringleader, Daniel drunkenly announced to the team that he would 'handle her.' Handle her. She never forgave him. He refused to speak with her the rest of the term, his silence meant to be a punishment, but it didn't wound as he intended. When she returned for her sixth year, Daniel now absence, his presence wasn't missed. There was a slight unwinding in her chest, a relief. It was much the same when Daniel died. When he came back into her life, a nineteen-year-old Themis was no more interested in his advances than she was in drinking poison. She'd done her duty, allowed his courtship and his empty words, and even managed not to wrinkle her nose at his hollow professions of longing. She managed not to cry at the feeling of helplessness that came with her wedding night, did her best to go away inside and allow him no added satisfaction in his conquest. Because that was what she had been to him, something that needed controlling, to be owned. Nights with him felt like punishment; she was sure that was the point. It was the only way he could punish her for not making him the center of her universe. When he'd fallen to his death, she considered mounting his ill-fated broom on her wall. Dying was the kindest thing Daniel did for her.
She was lost to the memory of the angry young woman looking back at her. Something like panic gripped her as she thought of her younger self, thought of what had been and what sense of agency she had lost. There was no escaping this spiral into what had been; it was clawing at her, demanding she surrender to the despair she remembered, to the sense that her world was ending and she was incapable of rescue. Samuel proved her wrong. He brought her home. His hand found her knee, and the feel of his touch was the north star she needed to find her way back to him. She blinked away the clouds forming, the sting of repressed emotion in her eyes. Somehow, his head was now in her lap, and the gesture nearly brought the tears she refused to release. This was trust; this was them.
She smiled when his hand found her face. Themis leaned into his hand, kissing the scared palm before it brushed at her hair. She relinquished her hand to him, her shoulders relaxing when Samuel's hand held her to his chest. She was in awe of him. Her free hand went to his hair, stroking gently, as the words she couldn't find stayed just out of her reach. It soothed her; the act of touching him grounded her in a way she was unaccustomed to. The weight of his eyes should have frightened her. She knew he saw everything, every tell, every fear dancing behind her eyes. He saw her, and he drew closer. Instead of turning away, she met his gaze and allowed his examination. When he directed her to the more recent past, she followed him, knowing intrinsically he wouldn't abandon her to her ghosts. "I remember," she confirmed, the first of August now the beginning of a chapter that brought them to tonight. She remembered it now as some moment of fate, the day that changed the course of her story. He'd shown her a power she didn't know she had and opened her to a world beyond imagining. She also remembered their conversation, and her heart raced in her chest. It had been so easily academic then. "You changed my life, Sam." Her affection, gratitude, and something else she hesitated to name glowing through her words.
Themis found herself looking backward at the younger iterations of herself. She could barely recognize the versions of the witch she imagined. The younger her couldn't conceive of the witch kneeling naked in a bed with a man who wasn't Daniel. If she was honest, the younger version of her had no wish to be so exposed to anyone, Daniel in particular. She hadn't loved him and saw little issue with her ambivalence. Her marriage had been about practicality and security. When she thought of her motivations now, it was clear that pleasing Uncle Horace was her goal. She disliked it when he worried; found it unacceptable that he should be concerned for her when they had academic and professional goals to occupy their time. She'd questioned before if she ever loved Daniel, thought back to the reckless boy in Gryffindor two years her senior. He had been her friend for her first five years, a frequent companion at their rowdy house table. He'd tutored her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, couldn't imagine that it wasn't her favorite class. He'd like to show off even then, and, at the time, it was almost endearing.
Daniel was fine, perfectly acceptable, until the incident in her fifth year. She had seen something in him then that should have remembered as a woman. She'd made enemies of the entire quidditch team the night she reported their misconduct to their head of house, nearly got the whole lot of them expelled. Perhaps she would have felt some remorse for her actions, and been able to empathize with her housemates' need to celebrate. Maybe she could have allowed teenage indiscretion to be what it was, but that was not her path. There were alternate paths she could have chosen, but it was Daniel who made her decision. His entitlement irked her. When confronted after hours sneaking back to the common room, drunk on firewhiskey and adrenaline, Daniel hadn't seemed the least bit sorry. The lack of remorse was distasteful, but it had been something else that set her resolve to ruin the evening. One of the beaters joked about keeping his girl in line, and Daniel had been foolish enough to laugh. Always the ringleader, Daniel drunkenly announced to the team that he would 'handle her.' Handle her. She never forgave him. He refused to speak with her the rest of the term, his silence meant to be a punishment, but it didn't wound as he intended. When she returned for her sixth year, Daniel now absence, his presence wasn't missed. There was a slight unwinding in her chest, a relief. It was much the same when Daniel died. When he came back into her life, a nineteen-year-old Themis was no more interested in his advances than she was in drinking poison. She'd done her duty, allowed his courtship and his empty words, and even managed not to wrinkle her nose at his hollow professions of longing. She managed not to cry at the feeling of helplessness that came with her wedding night, did her best to go away inside and allow him no added satisfaction in his conquest. Because that was what she had been to him, something that needed controlling, to be owned. Nights with him felt like punishment; she was sure that was the point. It was the only way he could punish her for not making him the center of her universe. When he'd fallen to his death, she considered mounting his ill-fated broom on her wall. Dying was the kindest thing Daniel did for her.
She was lost to the memory of the angry young woman looking back at her. Something like panic gripped her as she thought of her younger self, thought of what had been and what sense of agency she had lost. There was no escaping this spiral into what had been; it was clawing at her, demanding she surrender to the despair she remembered, to the sense that her world was ending and she was incapable of rescue. Samuel proved her wrong. He brought her home. His hand found her knee, and the feel of his touch was the north star she needed to find her way back to him. She blinked away the clouds forming, the sting of repressed emotion in her eyes. Somehow, his head was now in her lap, and the gesture nearly brought the tears she refused to release. This was trust; this was them.
She smiled when his hand found her face. Themis leaned into his hand, kissing the scared palm before it brushed at her hair. She relinquished her hand to him, her shoulders relaxing when Samuel's hand held her to his chest. She was in awe of him. Her free hand went to his hair, stroking gently, as the words she couldn't find stayed just out of her reach. It soothed her; the act of touching him grounded her in a way she was unaccustomed to. The weight of his eyes should have frightened her. She knew he saw everything, every tell, every fear dancing behind her eyes. He saw her, and he drew closer. Instead of turning away, she met his gaze and allowed his examination. When he directed her to the more recent past, she followed him, knowing intrinsically he wouldn't abandon her to her ghosts. "I remember," she confirmed, the first of August now the beginning of a chapter that brought them to tonight. She remembered it now as some moment of fate, the day that changed the course of her story. He'd shown her a power she didn't know she had and opened her to a world beyond imagining. She also remembered their conversation, and her heart raced in her chest. It had been so easily academic then. "You changed my life, Sam." Her affection, gratitude, and something else she hesitated to name glowing through her words.
![[Image: Bka0H0x.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/Bka0H0x.jpeg)