Chapter Text
Peace and quiet were considered luxury articles in Hogwarts. Hundreds of teenagers, each one possessing barely controlled magical powers and a collective count of three brain cells, locked up in a castle in the middle of scottish nowhere would be expected to have that effect on one's daily routine, but goddamn, some days…
Some days it took every bit of his already scarce self control to not strangle at least one of the little cretins.
So when Severus arrived, on a day with no less than two blown cauldrons and a full on fist fight in one of his classes, at the miraculously empty, silent, staff room right before dinner, he could’ve wept tears of joy. Despite it being the middle of winter the room was pleasantly toasty, just what he needed after the blasted cold dungeons that made all Warming Charms sputter and die on the spot. Fuck Salazar Slytherin and his fucking gothic tendencies, honestly.
Practically skipping to the enormous hearth, he forewent his usual place by the window for one of the sumptuous armchairs by the fire, turning frost stiff hands as close as he could stand without being burnt. As he watched blue fingertips slowly reverting to their normal color, Severus couldn’t help but think that Slytherin’s choice of accommodations, besides not making any sense with his overall snake themes, was an early attempt at natural selection, since placing children in this buggering icebox purposefully could only mean he wanted at least a few of them dead.
Now sufficiently warm, he burrowed deeper into the armchair, sinking back with a sigh. They were so much more comfortable than those near the window he felt almost tempted to sit here more often. If it didn’t mean being closer to the others and forced to socialize, that is.
The door banging open put a swift end to his musings.
"But I could swear I heard you say, in more than one occasion, mind you, that it wasn’t a dignified enough sport to bother with, Minerva."
Filius squeak of agreement to Pomona’s teasing meant at least three intruders to his short lived peace. There was only one way this could possibly get any worse, Severus thought, rubbing his temples, but at least he wasn’t likely to be free at this tim-
"Well, you were always too restless and physical, even as a child, my dear," said the odiously cheerful voice. "So I can see why gobstones wouldn’t appeal to you. Except for the dousing the opponent in stinking sap part, of course."
The bright lime green robes came flashing into his sight, as the Headmaster approached the hearth. The others kept bantering near the tea set readied by the elves, while Severus slouched even further into the upholstery, head throbbing with a chant of goawaygoawaygothefuckaway. The blue eyes flashed to his direction, and his cover was blown to smithereens.
"It’s so good to see you here so close to the others, Severus!" Albus sat on the other chair just by his own, primly gathering his disgustingly shiny robes about himself. "I know you enjoy your peace and quiet, and being by yourself, but it’s nice to mingle sometimes. Oh, don’t grumble, it’s unbecoming and you know it. Thank you, my dear."
After delivering the Headmaster’s tea, Pomona turned to him with an amused glint in her eye.
"You see Severus, our dear Minerva here was complaining about her House losing the first two matches of the Gobstones League, spectacularly might I add."
He turned to look at the old cat, sitting very straight and proper with her teacup beside Filius. Her pursed lips were the only outward sign of her annoyance. Hmm. Interesting. He beckoned Pomona to continue with an arched eyebrow.
"But you see," she continued, with renewed mirth at his encouragement. "All these years I was under the firm impression that she never cared about gobstones. That she considered it, and here I’m quoting you directly, dreadfully boring and a perfectly worthless pastime for anyone over the age of ten. And yet..."
She trailed off, wagging her eyebrows with a smirk at her colleague’s discomfort. Albus was hiding a smile into his cup, watching the fire crackling.
"She’s right, you never gave a shit about gobstones." His words interrupted the beginning of Minerva’s no doubt vehement and totally credible defense. She glared at him maliciously and he knew he’d pay for it somehow later. No matter, he grinned at her, it was definitely worth it. "I’d say you’re just a sore loser."
Filius choked on his tea laughing. Despite not playing in more years than he could remember, Severus had a soft spot for the silly game. It was one of the little things his mum shared with him when he was young and he couldn’t think badly of it, for her sake. Minerva launched into her self defense, and he tried to tune them all out. The warmth of the fire and the difficult day made him sluggish in no time, and he let himself fall into a little doze.
"But I seem to recall you had no qualms against the sport in school, at least not against the players."
Startled out of his rest by Filius’ curious remark. The emphasis on players and school time meant gossip and he couldn’t pass on information on Minerva’s student years. He just couldn’t.
"Oh! You’re right, Filius!" Pomona was suddenly back in full swing, to Minerva’s clear panic. Whatever this was, it made her sit down her cup and try a now, Pomona, just to be interrupted yet again. "I was two years ahead of you, but I remember you had some kind of rivalry with another girl in your year, the Gobstone Club president. I say rivalry but you know what I mean."
Again the wagging eyebrows. This was just delicious .
"I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pomona." The old cat was flustered! "You just said I never cared about gobstones and now you say I had a rivalry with another girl because of it, make up your mind!"
"Oh, come off it! I remember if perfectly now. You kept throwing barbs at each other for years and we all just thought it was sports antagonism, since you played quidditch and her gobstones, or even more of the old Gryffindor/Slytherin clash, until the day the Head Girl caught the two of you making out in the Restricted Section in your fifth year!"
The mention of club president and Slytherin in the same phrase set off a series of alarms in Severus’ head. Dazed, he looked at Albus, still silently smiling to himself on his chair. He was too quiet. The dread started to mount.
"What was her name again? Colleen?" Filius asked Pomona, right over Minerva’s protests.
"Can’t remember. Elaine?"
No. No no no-
"Eileen."
Those awful, horrendous blue eyes were fixed on himself now, a small grin playing behind the half moon glasses. Fucking shi-
"Eileen Prince."
He addressed the rest of the room now, but Severus barely listened. He knew, the bastard. He knew exactly who he was talking about, even if the others didn't. And he was enjoying every second of it.
"Yes, that’s the one! I remember Marian saying you both looked like you’d been brawling and just decided to suck each other’s faces halfway through it. You’d had a few tiffs before, so it makes sense, the tension." Wiping her eyes, Pomona sighed. Minerva was beet red, while Severus felt he lost every single drop of blood in his body. He felt faint. "I wonder where she is now. Never heard of her again after school."
She’s back in Spinner’s End, she’s my fucking mum, Severus thought, a bit hysterical.
"I don’t see why you’re bringing this up now!" Minerva bit out angrily. "The rumour is over thirty years old and completely irrelevant!"
"Maybe because your infatuation and sort of break up are behind your dislike of gobstones?" At Minerva’s huff, Pomona retorted "Oh, come on! I know you’re a minister’s daughter, but you can’t deny it when you were literally caught in the act! What harm would it make to just acknowledge it properly?"
He kept staring back and forth at the two witches now, dazed. This was insane. Minerva seemed to be keeping something inside forcefully, jaw clenched tight.
"Fine! I snogged Eileen Prince in fifth year, she didn’t want anything to do with me later, and we’re not talking about this ever again," she snapped. Banging her cup on the table, she got up and left in a flurry, slamming the door closed behind her hard enough to rattle the portraits around it, their occupants grumbling about impolite people. Her two companions were left gaping in her wake.
"Oh dear, I think we should apologize." Recovering first, Filius stood to follow her, Pomona on his heels once the shock wore off. “Excuse us, Albus, Severus, we better deal with this before she stews it too much and has time to plot revenge. See you at dinner."
Still speechless, Severus was left staring at the fire. Of all the possible, wretched ways this night could go this was certainly not one he could have ever predicted. How many times had he complained about McGonagall at home to his mum? Why did she never say anything?
No, she wouldn't just come and say "Oh, McGonagall. I kissed her once after a fistfight." No, that'd just have left him even more discomfited in Transfiguration classes than he'd already been. He shuddered at the thought. Fuck.
His panic was interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder, and another offering him tea. Chamomile, he thought, sniffing it, fitting. It was probably spiked. Calming Draught most likely.
"They didn't know." He said, to no one in particular. "They didn't know who they were talking about, not really." Squinting, he turned to Albus. "But you knew."
"Yes."
"Then why?"
“Well, I know, for a fact, that our Minerva never truly got over her first… infatuation.” He urged Severus to drink his tea, and didn’t that just confirm that it was certainly spiked. Sod it, he thought, downing it in one gulp and burning his whole fucking mouth in the process. Sighing, Albus summoned the pot and refilled the cup, continuing. “I also know Eileen was already under pressure from her family to find a good marriage, and they’d never accept a half-blood witch, which contributed to her rebuffing Minerva’s clumsy advances. Though I remember she kept sneaking around to watch Gryffindor’s quidditch team practice.”
The Headmaster paused, seemingly entranced by the flames. The Calming Draught hit just right and he felt the tension in his body melt away. Albus turned back to him, now calculating. The pause had been perfectly timed then.
"Finally," he added, watching him over his glasses. “I know your father, Eileen’s husband, passed away just two years ago, and now your mother is very comfortable in her widowed status. She might enjoy… reconnecting with old friends, don’t you think?”
With another shoulder squeeze, he trailed out of the room, the door’s soft click announcing the return of his solitude. Sagging into the armchair, mind fuzzy from the potion, Severus tried to make sense of what just happened.
Fifteen minutes later he didn’t feel any closer to figuring out if the whole situation was a result of Albus’ careful planning or just his ridiculous luck, both were equally likely given the circumstances. The last thought he had before slipping into a potion induced nap was I better write mum...