Al pictured the thin cobwebs unraveling in the potion's heat, losing their stickiness in the brew and turning into pure silk strands.
Like thoughts, simmering in his mind, in the warmth emitted by the cauldrons.
Al stepped up to Severus and awkwardly, quickly, bent his head forward to brush his cheek against the hard, angled point of Severus' shoulder.
He inhaled and released his breath. He needed this just as he needed his room. Perhaps more.
Some things were difficult to express, especially with the limited puzzle pieces of non-verbal vocabulary currently in Al's possession. But perhaps if Al tried making up his own gesture words, they would be acceptable as well.