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Severus Snape (bp_snape) wrote in breaking_point,

Arms around him, and for once they weren't there to confine him or to crush him. That gentle, questing pressure on the sinews of his spine had him arching his back like a cat luxuriating in touch.

It really did make it surprisingly difficult for him to concentrate. But, astonishingly for him, instead of snapping, removing the distraction, he overcame it, by counting. "Two ninety-eight, two ninety-nine, three hundred."

At last he withdrew the bone stirring rod, lowered the high-burning flame, and turned to the pewter cauldron containing the Moon subbrew. He scattered powder snow on it from a silver caster, and floated a wide, flat moonstone cabochon on the mist-shrouded surface of the deep blue potion.

"I'll be at this until dawn," he murmured, the warm breath brushing Al's hair. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day for you."