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“Well, if it wasn’t you who broke into my lab, then who was it?”
“I don’t know,” Potter shrugs, and Severus presses his lips tightly.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“There’s really no need to call me sir, Professor,” the brat says, a fakely innocent smile on his face—but Severus can see the mocking glint in his green eyes, and he’s been barely holding back for the last half an hour already. The Granger girl seems to have sensed it too, as she pulls Potter by the sleeve and shushes at him, but it’s a little too late.
“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Severus says through his gritted teeth; all four of the brats sigh loudly, but he is not finished yet. “Each.”
“But!..” Weasley exclaims, only for Granger to grab him by the shoulder, whispering hastily, we’ve got enough trouble, Ron!
Well, at least one of them has some semblance of common sense.
“That’s not fair!” Potter says, staring at him stubbornly. Insolent little... Though what else would he expect from James Potter’s son? It seems like he has inherited all the worst traits of his father, and combined with Black’s parenting, it’s no wonder that he grew up to be such an absolute pain. And to think he once assumed that Evans had better standards...
“Why, Mr Potter,” Severus says, lowering his voice, “You may take this up with Professor McGonagall, of course—I’m sure she will be ever so pleased to hear about your adventures in the Potions lab...”
Potter chokes on his breath but, surprisingly, stays silent, only gritting his teeth.
“Now off with you,” Severus nods dismissively. “And think twice, thrice before ever attempting something like that again.”
Potter and Weasley storm off first, fuming, and Severus doesn’t need Legillimency to guess their thoughts; he grins wryly, knowing that he won’t let them off so easily. Granger and Longbottom have at least some decency to mumble an apology before running after their friends, and as they’re all gone, Severus lets out an exasperated sigh.
He knew, of course, when Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, that it wasn’t going to be easy, but Merlin, he never imagined just how difficult it would actually be.
“You shouldn’t be so harsh with them, Severus. They are only kids.”
Lupin’s reproachful look makes Severus want to roll his eyes.
“You’re lucky I don’t have any proof and that using Veritaserum on children is not allowed,” he only says dryly. Oh, if only his hands weren’t tied—he would have ensured that all of them were questioned properly. He knew it was them, just like the previous year—for Merlin’s sake, he didn’t sign up to provide students with expensive ingredients whenever they wanted. Not to mention that second- and third-years weren’t even supposed to know how to make any potion that used those ingredients.
“You’re exaggerating,” Lupin begins but quickly trails off under Severus’ gaze. “Still, you don’t know for sure...”
“And it’s the only reason I have only taken points off.”
“I’m sure that Harry would never steal anything... He can be troublesome sometimes, but still—”
It seems like Lupin is about to keep trying to prove him wrong—he’s always been too protective of the Potter brat, though it’s no surprise—and Severus has really had enough.
“Just imagine how unfortunate it will be if, while I’m making your potion, I suddenly discover that I lack some very important ingredients...”
He doesn’t even need to finish—Lupin gets the hint. He inhales sharply and says, “I understand, Severus. I’ll talk to Harry and others.”
“Make certain you do,” Severus says.
He doesn’t bother to say proper goodbyes as he walks past Lupin; the werewolf should consider himself lucky that Severus tolerates his presence. Whatever Dumbledore thought when he let Lupin teach at Hogwarts was completely beyond Severus’ understanding.
But... it was hardly his place to question the Headmaster, either.
After a day of dealing with loud disrespectful kids and incompetent adults—for Merlin’s sake, Minerva, you could have done something about your Gryffindors; no, Lupin, talking is of no use with them—even something so simple as sitting down to have some tea feels like a blessing.
And the good company plays a large part in that; Severus puts down his cup and glances at the man sitting across from him.
In the dim candlelight—he never liked too much lighting—he can see the silver strands in Martin’s hair; he isn’t old by wizards’ standards, but the past years haven’t exactly been kind to him.
Severus feels an unpleasant tug of something like guilt inside at this thought but pushes it deep down; it was Martin’s own decision which has led to that. And Potter’s fault, partly—oh, he had a lot to do with all that’s happened. If not for Potter, Martin wouldn’t have had to leave Hogwarts and get on the run like a criminal—well, technically... Severus understood that using the Imperius curse was a wrong decision, no matter the reasons, but when it came to Martin, he was willing to close his eyes at too many things.
It was a wonder that Martin managed to avoid Azkaban, though it’s not like he’d managed to get away completely scot-free—he isn’t even supposed to be here right now.
Good thing that Dumbledore’s leniency extends not only to werewolves, Severus thinks, failing to stifle a light grin.
“Thinking about something good?” Martin wonders, leaning on the table, and for a moment, Severus finds himself lost in the warmth of his eyes.
He shakes his head quickly, regaining his cool, and replies, “You could say that,” and then adds, still irked by the earlier events, “Anything is good compared to what those brats keep doing.”
“You’ve never been great with children,” Martin notes with a brief smirk. Or with people in general. “I do wonder why you accepted Dumbledore’s offer.”
It’s hard to argue with him—Severus isn’t fond of teaching in the slightest, and he despises every second he has to waste on trying to put at least some knowledge into those dense heads. He would have much rather devoted himself to science, or literally anything else over this, but...
“I didn’t really have a choice,” Severus says. Not after everything the Headmaster had done; even though he never demanded anything in return, Severus hated being indebted to someone.
Martin nods thoughtfully, clasping his hands together. “I suppose. We both owe him a lot.”
Severus grimaces; he hates being reminded of that as well.
“In any case, it isn’t the worst job,” he says, not wanting to continue the topic.
“Certainly better than joining the Dark Lord’s ranks.”
Severus inhales sharply, but there’s clear amusement in Martin’s grayish green eyes, and he forces himself to calm down.
There’s no point in arguing—their relationship has never been exactly smooth, but they’ve kept it despite that; and tonight they don’t have nearly enough time to waste on that.
“I was never eager to,” he says simply. “And since he’d met his demise rather early, I’d say I was right in my judgements.”
“Yes...” Martin pauses for a while. “It’s difficult to imagine that he was defeated by a little child, when even seasoned Aurors feared him.”
“It is,” Severus agrees. “Especially considering that Longbottom is horrible in almost every class.”
“Is that so?” Martin gives him an intent look.
“Well, Professor Sprout does speak fondly of his achievements in Herbology,” Severus admits begrudgingly. “But still, he hardly looks like someone who could have defeated one of the strongest dark wizards.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Martin shrugs and takes a sip of his tea.
Frankly, Severus hopes that Longbottom will never surprise him with hidden talents—not during his time in Hogwarts, at least. It’s enough that he keeps blowing up cauldrons at every Potions class.
“Enough about that,” he says. “How have you been?”
“Pretty fine,” Martin says, leaning back in his seat. “As long as I don’t show up anywhere near the border, I don’t have to worry too much. Though my brother, it seems, will never grow tired of reminding me...” he winces slightly, and Severus reaches to cover his hand with his; he never was good at words of comfort, and this is the only thing that comes to his mind. Martin blinks and then chuckles quietly. “It could have been worse.”
It could have.
Martin suddenly frees his hand and gets up from the chair; Severus watches him walk around the table, a little confused.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks when Martin stops right behind his back, so close that Severus can feel the slightly uneven beat of his heartbeat.
“I thought you’d want to relax,” Martin puts his hands on Severus’ shoulders, stroking lightly at first.
Well, you’re right at that.
Severus closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the tender touch; he didn’t even think he needed that, but Martin seems to guess these little things right all the time.
Though the way he’s massaging his shoulders isn’t very calming—more like exciting, and only now Severus realizes how long it’s been since the last time they were this close.
“I’ve missed you.”
The way Martin’s soft lips brush against his cheek feels more like teasing, and Severus exhales, throwing his head back to see the familiar smile.
With how rare their meetings are, he feels sometimes like he’ll never be able to get enough of him.
But at least they have tonight to themselves.
There’s nobody in Hogsmeade this early in the morning, and there’s perhaps no need to be overly cautious.
“Careful,” Severus still can’t help but say, “you don’t want to be seen here.”
“I’m always careful, käre,” Martin responds, and Severus finds himself smiling against his will; throughout the years, he’s never grown tired of hearing this.
The wind is strong and freezing, and it’s a good excuse to pull Martin closer and hold him tight—who knows when else he will get this chance. Martin returns the embrace—the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his hair fill Severus with certainty and strange calmness.
Whatever happens, happens. And what truly matters is that they have each other, for however long it may last.
“I’ll see you on Christmas,” Martin says suddenly as he pulls away. Noticing Severus’ confused expression, he smiles, “You didn’t think I was going to leave you on your own on such a day, did you?”
“Tell me once again about always being careful,” Severus snorts. He’d never be against another opportunity to spend time with Martin, but at the same time, he finds it impossibly reckless. Of course, nobody is actively searching for Martin any longer, but if somebody sees him, or even catches word of his presence... Potter and his friends are always sticking their noses where they don’t belong, and they aren’t the only curious brats in Hogwarts. Take the Weasley twins... and it’s not just students. Lupin—Severus grimaces at the thought of him—he won’t snitch to the Aurors, but he might tell Potter, and who knows, the bastard might still be keeping a grudge—
“Even if that happens, I will be long gone by the time the Aurors get here,” Martin says calmly; but his gaze turns more serious.
And to think that years ago it was Severus who reassured him, convinced him to escape the country; now Martin seems rather comfortable in the role of a fugitive.
“What do you think,” Martin gives him a brief smile, “do I look like a wanted criminal?”
“Like an idiot, more like,” Severus doesn’t hold back a snarl—occasionally Martin drops his reserved attitude, and now he’s chosen the worst time to do that.
Martin reaches out, placing his fingers on Severus’ lips; he lingers for a few moments, then strokes his cheek lightly, brushing away a loose strand of hair. Severus keeps silent, both wanting to argue and not; but the touch of firm, warm fingers soon calms him again.
“I won’t do anything... too reckless,” Martin says. Not too reassuring. “Can you promise the same, käre?”
“That depends on what Potter and his little gang decide to pull off again,” Severus winces—he can already feel the headache starting at the thought of them. “Or what the Headmaster decides to task me with.”
“Of course,” Martin says.
“But aside from that...” Severus pauses, raises his hand to cover Martin’s palm, and then leans in to kiss him one last time.
I promise.
Severus watches Martin apparate away; and watches some more, until his footprints on the snow disappear completely. Only then he turns on his heels and begins walking quickly back to the gates of Hogwarts.
Somehow, despite the snow and the raging wind, he doesn’t feel cold at all.