Snape extended his wand and tapped lightly against the ornate wrought-iron gates. A copper iris flower adorning the door suddenly stirred to life, slowly unfurling from a tight bud until it bloomed in full splendor. From its heart tumbled a key and a slip of parchment.
The note bore a line of elegant script:
"Welcome, Severus, my friend. I shan't return until tomorrow morning. Until then."
The key's handle carried its own engraved message:
"South Tower, Top Floor."
The wrought-iron gates glided open in perfect silence. Snape strode through with the easy familiarity of someone who'd walked this path before, leading Orli toward the manor's southern wing with practiced confidence. As she took in the immaculately sculpted topiary and flower beds, one question gnawed at her thoughts:
Two of them... yet only one key?
Surely they wouldn't be sharing the same quarters—for three entire weeks?
...And why did Snape appear utterly untroubled by this arrangement?
Orli bit back her questions, following him up the winding stairs of the south tower. Her pulse quickened with each step, though whether from the climb or their approaching destination, she couldn't say.
At last, they stood before a gracefully arched wooden door. Snape produced the key—click—and the lock surrendered with a soft whisper. When Orli glimpsed what lay beyond, understanding dawned.
They entered a magnificent fan-shaped drawing room. Soaring windows curved along the walls, framing towering bookcases, clusters of sumptuous sofas, and an intimate table set for two. Semicircular skylights crowned the vaulted ceiling, flooding the space with golden afternoon light. The room's shadowed alcove housed an impressive wine collection, while Persian carpets cushioned their steps across polished floors. A substantial writing desk commanded one corner, adorned with brass fittings, quills, and parchment—but what caught Orli's attention was the delicate ice sculpture perched beside the inkwell.
She brushed her fingers against its surface—startlingly cold, yet showing no signs of melting. The enchanted piece radiated a sphere of blessed coolness, transforming what should have been stifling summer heat into perfect comfort.
Perhaps I could discover where such things are sold, she mused. Hermione would be fascinated, and Mrs. Weasley would adore one for the Burrow's kitchen...
Her survey revealed doors flanking either side of the fan-shaped chamber.
"You may retire to settle your belongings," Snape observed, consulting the ornate wall clock. "The house-elves will serve dinner within the hour."
Without further ceremony, he disappeared through the right-hand door.
Orli approached the left entrance with careful fingers. The door swung open to reveal a vision in pristine white—cream walls adorned with intricate sapphire scrollwork, the ceiling echoing the same ethereal design beneath a crystal chandelier that cast rainbow fragments across every surface. A magnificent four-poster dominated the chamber's heart, its carved headboard a masterwork of artistry, crowned with more of those miraculous ice sculptures. Gossamer curtains in pearl and silver cascaded from the bed's frame, perfectly complementing the window drapery.
Twin casements opened onto breathtaking vistas—the cerulean coastline stretched to the horizon, its waters dancing with captured sunlight. A compact washroom occupied the far corner, with an empty armoire standing sentinel beside it.
The room's geometry suddenly made sense—like the drawing room, it formed a perfect fan. The tower's crown must be circular, divided into three equal wedges: the common area below, with private chambers flanking above.
Which meant Snape lay just beyond this very wall...
Orli pressed her palm against the partition behind the headboard, lips curving in a secret smile that held promises of the weeks to come.
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