"You're Yours"

                                    

                                          
A month passed, and then another. It was late spring here now, and the world around us burst into full bloom.
Everything as far as the eye can see
Fragrant, verdant, lush
My hair, which had stubbornly remained thin, began to show the first signs of regrowth. 
... Despite the heat of the day, I found Salazar seated under the cork oak, a small green snake curled in a perfect coil on his knee as he whittled a small piece of orange and black speckled wood. 
As I approached, he set both the block of wood and his knife down on his lap and smiled at me affectionately, "My Lady."
"Sal."
"And where's dear Potxolo?"
"In search of his lunch. I last saw him bounding down the halls."
The little ball of fluff can be quite quick when he wants
And at this moment, he's most likely speeding under every nook and cranny in his pursuit spiders or moths, his preferred meals
At this, Salazar laughed, "And have you eaten, Laztana?"
"I had a late breakfast. You?"
Having reached the tree, I sank down beside him. The serpent, roused from its slumber, slithered off Salazar's knee and onto my own lap, hissing serenely.
Salazar nodded, green eyes flashing as they met mine, "I'm not particularly hungry in this heat. Though perhaps a late dinner, after the sun sets."
"That sounds lovely."
In the silence that followed, I gestured at the woodblock and knife, "And what's this?"
What are you working on?
A proud yet somehow shy smile, "I'm making myself a new wand, My Lady."
Wait, really?
"A new wand?"
"That's right."
"What of your present wand?"
Holding my gaze, he seemed to debate his reply. Finally he shrugged, "My current wand is wonderful. But I've been thinking ... if I can manage to craft one more powerful, then ..."
Trailing off, his eyes narrowed with unmistakable determination.
Tom
He's thinking about Tom
About finding him, or else when Tom finds his way to us
He's thinking about war
Forgetting myself for a moment, I shrugged sadly, "... I miss my wand."
At this Salazar, straightened up, "It's with him, isn't it?"
Impossible not to notice the hatred placed upon the word 'him'
"It was. Unless he's destroyed it by now -"
Salazar's reply was immediate and unexpectedly resolute, "Believe me, he hasn't."
Wait ...
... What?
It wasn't just what he said, it was the manner with which he'd said it. 
As I stared back at him, my eyebrows arching up in confusion, Salazar hesitated and shook his head, "What I meant by that is ... I simply can't imagine he destroyed it." And then, avoiding my gaze, he picked up the knife and began spinning it idly in his hand. With his next statement, he seemed to backtrack entirely, "Or ... perhaps he has. Who's to say?"