Roots

01:00

It takes hours to get the panicked families and friends - the panicked patients - calm enough to herd them into makeshift sleeping arrangements in empty patient rooms and conference rooms.

The staff is - in mixed spirits.  Some Healers are undoubtedly panicking nearly as much as the visitors and patients are - the younger Healers who had been insulated from the war - even a few older Healers who'd fled England when the second war had broken out.  Harriet tries not to make judgements - she tries not to resent witches and wizards who'd avoided the violence - whether because of youth or out of fear - but sometimes - times like these, when the pressure begins to build - begins to push down on them all, with these particular people withering beneath it - maybe she does judge them, then.  She feels - not great about it - but she just can't help it when Appleton, who's almost twice Harriet's age and frequently talks down to her because he's got an ego the size of the European continent, has a fucking panic attack in one of the lifts, which in turn inspires uncontrolled sobbing from the young boy she's trying to lead back to his father's hospital room.  She's not sure why he's here alone but for his ill father - doesn't ask.  Can't judge that part - there's too many orphans out there, now - too many who've lost at least one parent -

She's nearly asleep on her feet by the time she sees the last frightened mother and daughter into a room with the mum's sister on the first floor - the mum's sister is sneezing up actual, living goldfish after touching a strange knickknack, which - whatever - and does so again when she sees tears streaked on her niece's face, the orange, wriggling bodies falling into a bowl balanced on the aunt's lap, splashing water over blankets and her legs.  Harriet stays only long enough to give a stilted, awkward explanation of what's happening - excuses herself when the mum and aunt begin arguing about - well, impossible circumstances.  Makes a stop in the nearest bathroom to wash her mouth out and splash water over her face - is sure she won't have the energy even ten minutes from now -

Severus is waiting in the corridor outside her office door when she finally manages to drag herself there - he’s not been helping with the families, she knows - Selwyn had taken him off to look at the poisoning victim again almost immediately after he'd told them what'd happened - much to Harriet’s displeasure, given it’s allegedly jumped between people already, and it's very obvious they don't know how or why - given it's poison.  Still, despite where he's been - Harriet doesn’t hesitate to walk right into his space when she sees him - and Severus doesn’t stop her - catches her arms instead, tugging her closer still, his fingers curling into her hair when she presses her face into his chest. 

“Are you alright?” she mumbles right into his robes - he tucks his nose into the crook of her shoulder and neck - inhales roughly. 

“Yes,” he replies - just as low.  Draws back, his wand sliding into view.  He flicks his wrist, aiming at her forehead - she knows from the movement that he's checking her for a fever - frowns slightly.

"Is a fever one of the symptoms?"

"Yes," Severus's shoulders relax the slightest bit when blue light pulses in front of her.  The slightest bit - though the creases at the corners of his eyes are still -

"Have I possibly been exposed so someone who - has it?"

Been poisoned - whatever.  Severus shifts his focus from her forehead to her eyes, his free hand spreading over the nape of her neck - his thumb sneaking forward to stroke her jaw gently.

"Not that I'm aware," he says - admits, more like.  Harriet doesn't scoff or roll her eyes - merely leans into him again, tucking her head back under his chin.  She can't blame him for worrying - given the low level anxiety that's been living beneath her skin all evening.  Severus smooths his hand down her spine for a moment - lets out a muted breath.  “You’ll be sleeping in your office, yes?”

“Yeah,” Harriet withdraws again - lets her head fall back - Severus lifts his face back out of her hair after a short pause.  One black lock falls forward over his temple - she lifts a hand to brush it away again, tucking it behind his ear.  Her mouth takes on a mind of its own for a moment: “You could - with me?”

They haven’t done this yet.  Sharing a bed.  No sex, either.  Nothing beyond kissing and the occasional wandering hand - fingertips pressing carefully into skin, but only at her waist - nowhere else.  Harriet hasn’t asked why - because it's okay, for one, and she knows why, for another.  He’s trying not to rush her.  He’s trying very, very hard not to rush her.  And, frankly, she’s trying not to rush him.  For all they’re - mostly fine - there’s still some - strain.  For both of them.  From the war.

He meets her eyes.  Touches beneath her chin with one hand, tipping her face up towards his.

"Are you certain?”

"Yes," Harriet smiles at him.  "You know I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

One corner of Severus's mouth lifts - and he doesn’t protest when she unlocks her office door and tugs him inside.  Her office isn’t unlike his in the sense that it’s cluttered - but hers is stacks upon stacks of her notes on patients - nothing really personal.  It's not that she's not comfortable or anything like that - it's just.  She does bring patients in here, occasionally - and, well.  People can be - invasive.  Bloody nosey.  When they want to be. 

With her, they usually want to be.

She flicks her wand to move some of the mess of parchment away from the armchair she’s shoved into the corner - Severus, without being asked, transfigures said armchair into a mattress.  She’d nicked a single, frayed blanket from a storage closet ages ago when the drafts - nearly constant in the hospital, which is utterly ridiculous, though nothing Selwyn's ever done about it has ever stuck, nor have any of the attempts of his predecessors - were becoming too much.  She drags it out of the bottom drawer on her rickety desk - turns to find Severus - shedding his outer robe.  Beneath, he wears a t-shirt and briefs - Harriet’s eyes dart to his crotch for half a second before she catches herself - his thighs - thicker than she'd guessed - looks into his eyes - blushes spectacularly despite herself.  One corner of his mouth is lifting again - not cruelly or anything.  But one corner of his mouth is most definitely lifting.

Harriet’s also got an undershirt on - though she shivers something awful when she peels off her jumper and jeans, sneaks her bra off without removing her shirt.  Again, the bloody drafts - the cold leeches up from the floors, through their shoes and up their legs - and it's worse when she's only in socks - or, as she is now, barefoot.  She scuttles to the makeshift bed - Severus shifts out of the way, letting her hop onto it and spread the sad little blanket out over herself before crawling to join her.  Harriet presses into him immediately, her need for his warmth - and he is so very warm - outweighing any potential nerves at this new intimacy between them.

Severus accommodates her immediately - wraps his arms around her, tucking her two decorative pillows beneath their heads.  The blanket does wonders - especially when he murmurs a soft spell to heat the air between them and beneath it.  Harriet plasters herself to his chest regardless - Severus is all wiry muscle and limbs, but he's remarkably comfortable to cuddle with.  She'd known that before from a few evenings spent leaning into each other in his sitting room at Spinner's End, his arm draped over her shoulders, his nose tucked into her hair - this, of course, is more.  She hadn't exactly planned for this - sharing a sleeping space - to happen for the first time at work - but, then.  Beggars cannot choose.

They wriggle around a little to get fully settled - though Severus, of course, would never admit to wriggling.  Once they are, Harriet pulls her face out of his t-shirt - they rest their heads on their pillows facing each other, blinking at each other through the low light from the single torch hung on her office wall.  His hand lifts - brushes her hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear.

"Are you allowed to tell me what happened?" she whispers.

Severus scoffs as much as he can tucked up in bed the way they are.  His hair is half-smushed between his face and the pillow - Harriet reaches out before she can stop herself, running her fingers over the ends that reach towards her.

"I'd tell you anyway.  The original patient came in with only a mild fever - but insisting he felt entirely wrong.  He was belligerent - Selwyn was called and made the call to sedate him.  It seems, shortly after my initial examination - I confirmed poisoning - before they could move him to the third floor - his - pores - erupted with a reddish mist."

Harriet blanches.  "Fucking what?"

Severus's jaw ticks.  His hand drops to her shoulder - squeezes gently.  "There were two Healers exposed - both fell ill within two hours."

"Who?"

"Grey and Hall."

Harriet turns her face into the pillow for a moment.  Grey and Hall.  Grey's just had a baby with his wife.  Hall likes strawberries - she keeps them in her bloody pockets, she likes them so much, and she shares them with younger patients to help comfort them - 

She breathes carefully.  In.  Out. 

"Just with fever?" she asks - muffled.

"That is how it started," Severus murmurs - his thumb strokes her skin just below the cuff of her t-shirt.  "With all of them.  It escalates.  They are both semi-conscious - they do not recognize Selwyn or me.  The same can be said of the original patient.  Three other Healers have been exposed now - the mist - it can possibly penetrate the usual protective charms."

Harriet's heart crawls up into her throat.  She sits up before she can stop herself - sharp - knocks the blanket off herself.

"Sev - "

"I have taken steps," he says immediately - sits up, too, his arm slipping around her waist, tugging her closer - his hand spreads open on her lower back below her shirt.  "I would not go into that room if I wasn't fully confident that - "

"But - at first - " she fumbles for her wand.  Stupid.  So stupid - she should have -

Severus catches her wrist before she can aim for his forehead.  "I would also have not come anywhere near you," he says softly, dipping his face closer to hers, "had I believed there was any chance of infection.  You know better than to believe I would risk you like that."

He punctuates this with a kiss - his hands slip away from her wrist and back - cradle her face.  It's so tender - Harriet melts immediately, though she knows full well what he's doing, and lets him push her back down flat on the mattress.  He hovers over her for a moment - bears her down into her sad little pillow - tugs the blanket back into place.  All the while, his mouth presses to hers - he even slips her a bit of tongue, which turns her belly into a squirming mess - makes her press her legs together -

"Rest," he murmurs when he breaks away - too soon, and Harriet just barely bites back the whine - he strokes her fringe off her forehead.  Harriet closes her eyes - nuzzles into him once more when he shifts to rest beside her, one arm lifting to drape over her head on the pillow. 

"Only if you do, too," she whispers back - Severus wraps his arms around her again - squeezes her gently.  She curls her fingers into his t-shirt and holds on.

They both breathe for a time - in silence.  Despite how warm - how safe - she feels curled up with him on this makeshift bed - she finds herself - staring at the ceiling - watching light play across the darkness above them - passing Muggle cars on the street below them -

She doesn't sleep for longer than she cares to admit.  Though - if the way his fingers play along her arm is any indication, he's not sleeping, either.

--

06:00

Harriet wakes entirely entangled with Severus - their legs twisted around each other - his hands tucked up under her t-shirt and spread over her bare skin.  All of the spaces between their bodies are warm - though her left foot is sticking out from beneath the blanket and thus feels like an icicle.  She drags it back into the warmth - presses closer to him - or, tries - not that it's necessarily possible, given how close they already are -

She also wakes to insistent knocking on her office door - which, rude.

Severus reacts quicker than she does - or, more than she does - as all she does groan in protest.  He untangles himself gently - presses his mouth to her temple when she moans again to complain.  She watches through blurry eyes as he stands - uses his wand to dress himself in his uniform robes.  She also glances at his arse in his briefs before he covers it - on purpose this time, and she flushes to herself, looking away sharply before she can be caught and smirked at again.  When he opens the door, he only does so enough so that the person on the other side will be able to see him - not her, still curled beneath the blanket behind him.

"What," he says in that flat way that tells them it's one of their colleagues.

"I have need of you again," Selwyn's voice replies - and Harriet's stomach immediately bottoms out, despite what Severus had said before they'd fallen asleep.  She sits up - a bit slower this time, despite the immediate dread sliding down her throat - and clutches the top of the blanket to her chest.  "Same room.  Should I plan on you sleeping here until this is resolved?"

Also rude - however much she understands the question.  She scowls at the door with enough ferocity, Selwyn hopefully feels it through the wood.  Severus hesitates for only a moment.

"Unless things change," he says - which is so undoubtedly code for unless I fall ill - Harriet's insides squirm more, and she pushes her legs off the mattress, abandoning the lingering warmth in the blanket and ignoring the cold bite of the floor, and transfers her glare to Severus's back.

Selwyn must nod - Severus shuts the door a moment later - turns to her, his expression entirely neutral.  Harriet doesn't soften the way she looks at him - stands, in fact, planting her hands on her hips.

"I thought you said you're fully confident - "

"I am."

"But you just said - "

"Harriet," he cuts her off lowly.  "Do you trust me?"

Harriet's mouth sticks - wide open - and then snaps shut again a moment later to keep her from looking entirely like a fool.  "Yes," she says - because she does - except she also knows his own safety and wellbeing is so fucking low down on his list of priorities.  She does trust him - with everything but himself.  "I'm just worried - "

Something flickers over his face - too quick to fully read.  He closes the distance between them - lifts his hands to hold her arms gently, tugging her into his chest.

"I'll be safe," he murmurs - lifts her chin with one finger - presses their foreheads together.  Cool - both of them cool and healthy and okay.  For now - it echoes in her chest - it ricochets inside her, that thought, despite his touch - soft and steady and sure.  Still - he slots their noses together.  Kisses her softly.  Adds: "For you, I'll do it."

Harriet shuts her eyes.  Forces herself to relax the slightest bit. 

"Please," she mumbles back.  Kisses him again to punctuate her point.

--

10:00

The memos are sent out at approximately a quarter after nine in the morning, all of them whizzing out of Selwyn's office at once - perhaps too late, honestly, as the Healers have been working all night - and the patients and families have all been awake since the early morning hours - awake and frightened.  It's also, perhaps, not the most efficient manner of getting the message out, as it creates a cloud of parchment clustered near the ceilings, the incessant flapping of their wings creating the kind of buzzing that gives Harriet a persistent headache as they seek their intended recipients.  Harriet's own memo finds her when she's checking in on Frankie, circling around their heads as she finishes her examination.  Frankie is doing better again today - much better - Harriet smiles widely at her and tells her so before reaching up to catch the little paper airplane in the middle of what might be its fortieth or fiftieth loop.

"What's that?" Frankie asks instead of celebrating as Harriet skims over the words quickly - there's some old information in the note - some new - some gut-churning -

St. Mungo's remains on lockdown until further notice.  Do not attempt to leave the premises - there are Anti-Apparition wards up everywhere now, including the Apparition point on the first floor, and the Aurors are guarding all entrances and exits to keep anyone from coming in - to keep anyone from leaving, as well.  This is for our safety as well as those outside the walls.  Patient family and friends will be remaining in the spaces assigned to them last night and have been informed - if you catch someone outside of their assigned space, you have permission to immediately protect yourself and escort them back to their space.  The same applies to patients.  You must also check yourselves for fevers at least once every two hours - if you present red, you must find a colleague at once - at a distance and with protective charms in place, tell them what has happened.  They will escort you to the second floor, where the other patients are being treated.

Unless explicitly assigned or infected, you are not to enter the second floor at all.  At present, seven Healers and three patients other than Patient Zero have been infected.  Aurors have been instructed to bring anyone who displays symptoms outside these walls to ONLY St. Mungo's immediately.

Those final two sentences - seven Healers now - despite the way they protect themselves always.  And it's possibly spreading outside these walls, too?  The urge to find Severus - to seize him and drag him away from all of it - ridiculous, and he'd fight her violently if she tried - but it's almost more than she can swallow back.  Almost.  Harriet smiles at Frankie again - it's definitively strained - the little girl picks up on it immediately because she's not stupid, tugging nervously at the ends of her braids, biting at her still-greenish lips.  

Has anyone said anything to her yet?  She's so young - a difficult conversation - difficult in a different way than a patient or family member - even one who's belligerent.  And her parents can't even come into the room, still -

"St. Mungo's is - closed up for the moment," she says - slow.  Careful.  Frankie's face scrunches up in confusion, so she adds: "We can't leave, and no one but emergencies can come in."

Now Frankie's face creases with far too much worry - far too much worry for such a young girl.

"Does that mean my mum and dad, too?  Are they safe?"

God - if Harriet could just take Frankie inside herself and keep her insulated from the entire fucking fucked up world -

"They're safe," she murmurs.  Catches herself again - stops herself again from touching even so much as the end one of those twin braids.  One day, she might slip - it's just - she's the type to comfort with physical touch - and she wants so badly to just - "It'll be okay, Frankie."

She doesn't say I promise - knows better than that.  Frankie must know it, too - she ducks her head and picks at her blanket.  Harriet crumples up the memo, shoves it in her robes.  Uses her wand to conjure a single daisy for Frankie, placing it on her bedside table.

"Sit tight, kiddo," she adds - firm.  "It'll only be a few more days."

--

15:00

Contrary to what Severus may have insisted back when she was a teenager, Harriet doesn't actively try to break every rule she comes across - not even when she's crawling out of her own skin for reasons like injustice or Voldemort or not setting eyes on Severus since far too early in the morning in the middle of a fucking crisis.

She only tries to break some rules.  And only if they're stupid.

The St. Mungo's lockdown rules aren't stupid.  Harriet knows this because now eight Healers are sick, and eleven patients - two coming in from outside the hospital, not including Patient Zero.  It's happening far too quickly - and it would be quicker still, she knows, without the lockdown.  It's definitively being spread via the strange red mist bursting out of patient pores - a truly sick volcanic eruption of a kind - but other than a light fever, there's no precursor symptoms - other than feeling generally not right, apparently - to pick out, and sometimes, a fever isn't always obvious - especially if you're sweating because you've been moving around a lot or because of a pre-existing condition.  And as for feeling not right - well, Harriet would bet a significant portion of her Gringott's vault that most of the people inside St. Mungo's aren't feeling quite right at the moment.  The lockdown isn't 24 hours old yet, and most of the patient families are frequently in the hospital for most of the day, anyway - but there is a fundamental difference between wanting to be somewhere and knowing you're not allowed to leave somewhere -

During her first break of the day - she's helping cover all floors except for floor two today, for obvious reasons, and by this point, she’s been to all the others - including a quick visit to Neville’s parents and Lockhart in the Janus Thickey ward - rather than plot ways to escape the building, Harriet sends her Patronus to Hermione.  Ron, likely, knows about this entire thing - if not the entire wizarding world by now - though no Prophets have made it through the charm barrier erected around the building, so it's impossible to know for certain.  Ron and Hermione's engagement party is scheduled for Tuesday night - at this point, barring some miracle, it's more likely than not they'll - she and Severus - will miss it.  She also sends her Patronus to Ginny - with the message: I dunno when I'll be home, and to Neville to assure him his mum and dad are okay.

Hermione's always been quick - even when she's busy at work, and Harriet can't picture her being anywhere but the Ministry at present.  Still - less than ten minutes later, an otter pops into existence while Harriet's washing her hands after using the bathroom - filling the bathroom with silvery light - and she nearly jumps out of her skin, as she hadn't expected it quite so soon.  She turns - blinks at the little silver body as Hermione's voice fills the room, echoing off the tiled walls:

We've heard.  Ron's been assigned.  People are frightened.  Be safe.

The other thing about Hermione - she usually uses a lot of words.  A lot of words.  It's just how she is.  Harriet's grown used to it over the years - has come to expect it and find comfort in it.  Which is why it stands out so much whenever Hermione is short with something.  And this -

People are frightened.

Harriet swallows heavily - watches the otter fade in silence.

--

20:00

She grabs an obscenely late dinner from the mess - enough for two because - well, she doesn't know what she'll do if she doesn't see him tonight, but it probably won't be good -

But Severus is waiting for her outside her office when she arrives, and he looks as strong and as healthy and as whole as he ever does, and her knees nearly give out when she sets eyes on him - her relief shakes all of her limbs - fuck, it actually nearly makes her cry.

This is maybe getting to her.  It's only been one single day, really - but this is maybe, actually getting to her -

"Hey," she says - allows it when he immediately gets in her space and points his wand at her forehead again.  She will do the same to him the moment her arms aren't full of sandwiches and flasks of pumpkin juice.  Soft blue light fills the corridor for a moment - his mouth is still dragging down at the corners, but the furrow in his brow lessens, which is at least something. 

They slip into her office - he shuts the door and locks it behind them.  Harriet dumps the food and drinks on her desk - turns to points her wand at Severus - he huffs but doesn't stop her.  The light that blooms before his forehead is as blue as her own had been.

"Satisfied?" he asks - a little grumbly - when she drops her wand on the desk, lets it roll away, and sets about handing him a sandwich and a flask.  Harriet rolls her eyes at him.

"No," she grouses right back.  "Not 'til this is over and you're away from all that."

"Yes, of course," he says lowly - all mockery vanished - and takes the seat facing her desk when she lowers herself into the chair behind it.

They eat in silence for a spell - Severus is staring at what seems to be space - though she knows enough by now to know it's really inward that he's looking - probably obsessing over what he'd seen today.  She stares athim - his hair lank, unwashed.  The darkening lines around his eyes and mouth - that shadows beneath his eyes - exhaustion and worry etching themselves deep into his face.  He frowns as he chews - frowns as he swallows.  Thoughtful frowning - but frowning nonetheless.  He hasn't solved the problem yet - but, then, that's not a surprise.  She'd know it if he had. 

This would be over if he had.

They finish dinner quickly - and they take turns sneaking down the corridor to the nearest washroom to freshen up - or, to make themselves feel more human, at the very least.  Harriet goes first - moves mechanically through the motions of brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face and running wet fingers through her hair.  When they trade places, she curls up on their makeshift bed to wait for him to come back.  When he does, the strands of hair framing his face are dripping even more than her own hair is, and he's scowling even more - though she waits until he sheds his robes and gets into bed in only his t-shirt and briefs again before she asks him:

"Are you allowed - ?"

"I'd tell you even if I'd been explicitly forbidden from doing so," Severus cuts her off, again dismissive - which warms her chest and is also rich, given how often he's told her off about breaking rules.  Of course, his flaunting of rules usually benefits her - at least lately - she'll not be complaining, in any case.  "Those infected are getting sicker.  Liver failure."

Harriet's on her back - she lifts both hands to cover her face for a moment.  Not to hide from him - just to - absorb it. 

"We've stabilized even Patient Zero - for now.  He's in no explicit danger of dying."

The yet is unspoken - she hears it all the same.  It's impossibly loud in the air between them - in the tension radiating off his body and leeching into her own -

"Who is he?" she asks quietly - Severus exhales, shifting around a bit.  His arm bumps hers - and then his entire body gets closer, pushing into her space, his arm curling over her waist.  Hot breath brushes her ear -

"Surname Topsdown.  Small family - from the north.  He works for a small publishing firm - specializes in children's stories.  He fled England.  Both wars."

Older, then, too.  Harriet drops her hands - stares at the darkened ceiling.  Presses her palms into Severus's wrist - holds on -

"Doesn't seem like the type of bloke to be targeted."

Severus exhales again - another warm burst on her neck.  "No - he doesn't."

A silence.  Harriet keeps her eyes on the ceiling.  Keeps her skin pressed to his.  Tries to focus on that - that warm bit of flesh-to-flesh contact between them - her brain will spiral if not - too full of Topsdown - picturing him - creating an image of him, whether real or false - whiskers - perhaps a bit round about the middle -

Fuck.  She shuts her eyes again.  She needs - to not think for a second.  She's been on all day - her shoulders hurt.  Her forehead hurts.  Her feet hurt.  She needs to turn her bloody mind off -

And Severus - she has no doubt his day had been bloody worse -

She rolls onto her side - very deliberately plucks at his t-shirt.

He's already looking at her - and he keeps doing so - silently, for a moment - he studies her.  Cautious?  He shifts his hand after a moment - slips it up beneath her shirt.  Keeps his eyes on hers.  And - waits -

"We're both stressed out," Harriet says - wriggles closer.  Severus immediately opens his arms entirely - she immediately slips between them, though she stops short of just - plastering herself to his chest.  "Let's - can we not worry - for a second?"

She's trying to be a little subtle - maybe a little coy - fails miserably, if the way his eyebrows lift is any indication.  She flushes - embarrassed, a little, at how clumsy she is - but Severus kisses her anyway.  Severus slips closer still anyway - his body settling against her own, warm and large.  Severus's hands land on her hips - press there.  Steady - steady - his tongue sliding carefully into her mouth - his thumbs sneaking up under her t-shirt to trace the base of her spine -

It deepens quickly - she'd had the right of it, really - they both need a distraction, and Harriet loves kissing Severus, and Severus certainly seems to love kissing Harriet, but it gets sloppy far quicker than it usually does.  They're licking at each other a little wildly - and Severus's hands are far bolder than they usually are, his fingertips occasionally skimming the waistband of her knickers, sending gooseflesh spreading over her entire body, and - perhaps such a tense day has gotten Harriet a little out of her mind.  Truly - because she pulls on Severus's shoulder - the one away from the bed - in an attempt to coax him - on top of her.  Where he's never been before.  And Severus perhaps is a little bit out of his own mind - as he comes without protest, his weight spreading heavy and hot over her - trapping her between him and the mattress - sparks erupt, low in her belly, and she can't stop herself from gasping into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders with vengeance -

His hair tickles her temples.  His hands are hard on her waist - then scraping up her ribs - coming dangerously close to her bra beneath her shirt, his fingertips pressing into the spaces between her ribs.  She moans before she can stop herself - but it doesn't break the spell.  If anything - there's an answering rumble in his chest where it's pressed against hers - one hand drops from her torso and down down down - grips her left thigh, pushing her legs open -

No, the touching - the going further than ever before - that's not what does it.  It's the footsteps outside that break the spell.

They're loud.  Someone moving quickly - muffled voices, sharp but - not-quite distressed.  Not enough to send them both shooting out of the bed, anyway.  Still - Severus freezes - withdraws almost entirely the next moment - doesn't roll off to the side but instead lifts himself with both arms, bracing his elbows to hover over her.  He turns his head slightly - aims his eyes at the door, though the footsteps pass them by quickly.  Harriet pants a little beneath him, her lips tingling -

Then he rolls away -

"Wait - hang on - "

Severus doesn't push her away when she immediately rolls into his space again - but he doesn't touch her quite as boldly again, instead gripping her hips, his hands, unfortunately, staying outside the confines of her undershirt.  "I forgot myself - " he mutters - and Harriet huffs.

"I wasn't complaining - "

"It was never my intention to have you for the first time inside St. Mungo's, Potter," he says firmly - the words somehow simultaneously a bucket of ice down her spine and a twist of impossible heat in her gut -

But she - stops. Pushing. She stops pushing before she even starts. Because - she - gets it.  She does - she can hardly take offense to it.  They are at work - even if they're fucking stuck here.  It's not at all appropriate - not at all professional - and under different circumstances, Harriet wouldn't even be considering it. But - and it can't have been his intention - but - he's put that thought in her head now.  The two of them - stripped bare, tangled together, sweaty and messy and -

And his cock.  That bulge -

"What if we're stuck in here for multiple days?" she asks - a little lamely, maybe.  Severus narrows his eyes at her, even with his cheek smushed into his pillow once more.

"Temptress," he murmurs - a shudder runs down her spine.  "If it comes to that - perhaps we reopen negotiations.  No earlier than that."

Is this a fucking negotiation?  He should've bloody clued her in - not that she can properly think when she's as slick between her legs as it feels like she is at the moment - and she's not sure she's ever been this fucking wet -

"Sev - "

He leans forward.  Holds her chin with one, big, warm hand. Kisses her - perfectly chaste, even when she whines into it a little bit. Even when she curls her fingers back into the front of his t-shirt.

"When this ends," he murmurs when he withdraws, "I'll take you straight home to my bed.  Would that satisfy you, you little minx?"

Said with full affection.  The smallest hint of another one of those half-smiles - the ones she suspects he reserves just for her. Harriet melts again, of course.  She can't help it.  Wouldn't want to.

"Yeah, fine," she says - managing to play at grumpy just enough.  Severus chuckles softly and tugs her back into his chest - wraps his arms around her to properly keep her warm.