Chapter 1
Nestled among the Scottish Hebrides lies a curious little island with no name nor master. Uncharted, unblemished, and lush with the rarest of magical resources, the island is said to have been carefully shrouded from discovery centuries ago. Lost to history, it thus remains forgotten by all— save for an eclectic handful of reclusive potioneers, of course.
A heavy mist swirls in the winds of his sweeping black cloak as Severus winds his way through the thick of the forest. There is a lightness to his step that only this place offers him, yet he keeps his gaze sharp as the soft glow of early morning light pierces the high canopy of giant, ancient trees up above.
For six days, Severus has walked this same unmarked path, guided only by the gentle whispers of a nearby creek that beckon him closer to the clearing he knows to be just up ahead. A natural pool lies at its center, fed by the creek and banked by tangles of gnarled tree roots, with smooth, mossy boulders jutting out from its clear waters here and there.
He had only stopped that first day to refill his water flask. But as he lingered to rest and collect samples of several strange plants that had piqued his curiosity, he soon felt the distinct sensation of being watched prick across his skin. Even more curious were the vials he discovered to be missing from his satchel later that day.
And so he has returned, day after day, to poke around the banks of the water and patiently wait for his mysterious company to make themselves known as the fleeting glimpses of a figure flitting along his periphery continue to grow in frequency and his satchel always a touch lighter than it had been upon his arrival.
Yesterday, however, he tried something new.
“I know you’re here, little nymph,” Severus called, not daring to raise his head as he continued to fill his flask. “You needn’t fear me.”
A feminine laugh, haunting and melodic and delicately rich, echoed across the water, then, quick enough that he briefly wondered if he had imagined it. Severus didn’t know what to make of the sound, of the way his blood ran cold even as a tingling warmth marched across his skin while his ears strained against the silence, wholly unsure whether it was fear or exhilaration that possessed his flesh.
And so today, he has returned with a plan.
Severus resists a smile as he drops his satchel by the water’s edge. Rather than fetching a handful of empty vials, he draws out a book and lies back, stretching parallel to the bank a mere foot or two away. He pretends to read as he listens intently to the sounds of the forest, making a good show of slowly blinking his eyes with feigned tiredness after a while. Then, dropping the book to his chest, he closes his eyes and waits.
And waits…
And waits…
Finally, when the faint clink, clink, clink of vials rustling against each other reaches his ears, he strikes.
Severus can’t help but smile, then, as his hand darts out toward his open satchel left nearby and closes around a slender wrist, a petulant huff sounding from his new captive. Turning his head to the side, he cracks an eye open, all amusement swiftly shifting to wonder at the sight before him.
At first glance, one might mistake her as an ordinary, although undeniably enchanting, young woman. But as she glares at him through long, inky lashes, with irises so blue they are very nearly violet, Severus knows that she is anything but human, and his heartbeat suddenly pounds harshly against his eardrums at the fact. With hitched breath, his dark gaze roams across her delicate features, from her pouted pink mouth to the silvery-white strands flowing down her bare shoulders. Her skin, smooth and glowing like the palest of porcelains that would surely shatter under anymore than a gentle caress, is surprisingly warm under his hand, he thinks, as he returns his eyes to hers.
He loosens his grip at the thought, only to quickly clamp even tighter as she attempts to wrench free.
“Are all wizards this rude?” She asks sharply, eliciting that same strange chill from his flesh.
“Are all nymphs thieves?” Severus retorts with a raised brow, quickly recovering.
“Let me go!” She demands, her eyes flashing as she once again attempts to yank free from his grasp.
“Alright, little nymph,” Severus says calmly, attempting to soothe her growing ire. “But could we talk a moment? I daresay it is the least you owe me.”
“I daresay I owe you nothing,” She replies with a haughty toss of her head, her long locks rippling with the movement along the surface of the water.
“Very well, Miss,” Severus immediately acquiesces. Her expression softens when he releases her wrist without further protest and rises to his feet. “I apologize for keeping you,” he adds, slinging his satchel over one shoulder and turning to leave.
“Wait.”
Severus turns, arching an expectant brow, a grin tugging at his mouth when she gives an exasperated huff.
“Three questions,” she says firmly. “Only three.”
Severus drops his satchel, wasting no time in sinking to his knees just before her. But as her head tilts back to look up at him, exposing the smooth column of her slender neck, he suddenly finds himself at a loss for words.
Whatever does one ask a water nymph?
“Well?” She finally prods, her eyes narrowed.
“Well, ah… Do you live here?” He asks, gesturing with a sweep of his hand.
“Sometimes,” She answers simply. “Next?”
“Hm… Do you have feet?”
“That’s none of your business!” She snaps, seemingly scandalized by such a question.
Severus valiantly stifles a laugh as he raises his hands in surrender. “My apologies, Miss.”
“Last question,” She scowls.
“Very well,” he says quietly, having every intention of making this last question count. He leans closer, a sudden thrill of adrenaline rushing through his veins as he makes up his mind. “Do you have a name?”
This draws a hissing gasp from the girl. Severus holds his gaze steady as her wide eyes search his, though for what he does not know, but she seems to ease considerably once she finds it.
“You should know better than to ask a nymph for her name, Severus Snape,” She finally murmurs, her warm breath caressing his cheek.
He nods faintly, somehow not surprised by his name falling from her mouth.
He wills himself to remain perfectly still, as if she might flee at the slightest twitch, as she plants her hands atop the bank and slowly lifts herself closer, something unnamable and disturbing and alluring now sparkling in her violet gaze.
“Then you know,” she whispers close to his ear, “that you have to earn it.”
Her soft lips press against the corner of his mouth, then, chasing a warm shiver down his spine that makes his eyes slip closed.
Severus is alone again when his eyes flutter open, a faint ripple the only proof that she was ever here at all.
***