Work Text:
Severus hears the unmistakable cacophony of cauldrons falling over, announcing Teddy Lupin escaped confinement of the Hospital Wing nursery and has arrived at the dungeons.
He takes a deep breath. Outside his office, cauldrons roll on their sides. Severus heaves himself from his chair and rounds his desk.
“Edward.” Severus opens the door. “I believe we discussed this.”
Edward Lupin is two years old and slapping the underside of a cauldron like it’s a pewter drum.
“I see.” Severus registers Teddy’s displeasure of the No Toddlers In The Dungeons legislation decided at the last staff meeting. Likely because he wasn’t consulted, not being staff, and now feels justly unrepresented.
As toddlers are already in the dungeon, Severus surrenders the point for the time being. Doubtlessly, Poppy is catching up on inventory now that most of the students are home for the holidays and Edward’s father is…busy doing whatever he does when he’s not teaching or chasing his own tail.
Teddy slaps the door of the ingredient supply cupboard, noting his suggestion the ingredient supply cupboard should have the door removed has gone ignored yet again. He sniffles, not crying, but suggesting to Severus he could if something isn’t done about this and quite quickly at that. As Severus is in no mood to negotiate, he crosses the room and places a hand on the doorknob.
“Edward.” Severus glances down. Teddy slaps the door. “Remember, we don’t touch the ingredients, yes?”
Teddy Lupin tugs on Severus’ trousers leg and begins to whine, like he’s going to touch the ingredients and maybe Severus should just get on with it?
Severus sighs and opens the door. What follows is another episode of Severus showing every single ingredient in the cupboard to Teddy and stopping him from eating it, upon which Teddy begins to sob until Severus finds a new ingredient to show and deny him eating, until Teddy has seen and not gotten to eat anything at all.
“That will be all, Edward, thank you.” Severus says over the screaming as he closes the door to the ingredient supply cupboard. Teddy doesn’t believe him that there aren’t more ingredients to look at as Teddy doesn’t believe the ingredient supply cupboard isn’t an infinite pocket dimension from which strange and wonderful and sometimes gross things can be procured forevermore.
Alas.
Severus distracts Teddy with biscuits, and these he can eat, so Teddy stops crying and only sniffles as he nibbles his reward for taking inventory of the supply cupboard. Severus is certain the boy somehow gets more chocolate on his face and hands then is on the entire biscuit, not that it stops him giving the boy a second and then a third. The box is empty, but Teddy fortunately only has a three-biscuit appetite today.
“Severus.”
At the sound of his father’s voice, Teddy’s whine echoes out from inside a large cauldron, where he pretends to be a potion.
“I’m sorry. Again.” Lupin looks a little more put together than usual. He’s even wearing a color besides his usual ‘dirt footpath brown’ and ‘flavorless gruel grey’ that he’s taken for his mourning colors. Severus thinks burgundy suits him.
More than grief does, at least.
Since resuming his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor two years ago, the man’s health varies drastically from month to month. He is currently in a ‘putting on weight’ swing of that cycle, and though necessary after after losing so much over the summer, he’s plainly soon to be back at standing to lose some.
There are more arguments for Remus to keep the weight though, faster recovery from his transformations being paramount. The man does not heed Poppy’s advice though.
Severus doesn’t think it appropriate to ogle grieving men’s bodies, much less make comments about them to their face.
“It’s…holidays.” Severus says stupidly, as if that makes Teddy Lupin’s presence in the dungeon any less of a complete distraction.
“I don’t know why he always comes here. Reckon I should be grateful he’s consistent and I’m not having to look all over the castle for him.”
Severus frowns at the thought of Teddy wandering the corridors, bereft of snacks and not listening to the portraits trying to guide him because Teddy Lupin has a thing about not listening. Teddy, not listening to the conversation, crawls out of the cauldron and, pretending he’s invisible, crawls under Severus’ desk. He giggles, pretending he can’t be heard.
“Edward’s not receptive to my suggestions on the matter of returning to the Hospital Wing.” Severus informs Edward’s father, “You might…linger until he falls asleep, then kidnap him?”
“It’s not kidnapping when it’s your own kid, Severus…you’d be alright with that?”
Severus shrugs, eyeing the burgundy sweater vest, wondering if Lupin is attempting to look festive. It’s not working. At least not in that regard. “It’s…holidays.” He repeats again, just as stupid as the first time.
Remus nods and takes a chair from one of the student worktables.
“…How’ve you been?” Remus asks. Severus regrets inviting Teddy’s father to linger immediately, “Is your scar…we don’t talk much?”
Very much by design, yes. Severus nods, hand rising to his neck at the mere mention of the scar beneath. He thought to forgo high necks until he decided retirement didn’t suit him after all, and came back to Minerva a year on with his tail tucked between his legs, shamed for being unable to hack the life of gardening and scowling at passersby from the sitting room window for the rest of his mortal days, exactly as she said he would be.
He elected to sew silk into all his collars rather than make any visible alteration to his self-imposed uniform.
“It’s…painful. At times.” Severus wants to cut his own tongue out and stew it in a cauldron. “Nevermind. Is your Wolfsbane—”
“Painful how?” Remus scoots his chair closer to the desk and Severus viscerally leans away. Teddy hums a nursery rhyme of his own invention as he plays with Severus’ shoelaces.
“Just…painful, I suppose.” Severus doesn’t know how to explain phantom pain to people except that it’s quite hard to treat symptoms that don’t actually exist. He hardly deserves sympathy. His pain isn’t even real, unlike Lupin’s.
Lupin blinks rapidly, “Stay here!” He says as if Severus has anywhere to bloody go before bolting out the door of his classroom. Teddy babbles as he crawls out from under the desk.
“I fear your father forgot about you, Edward.” Severus spares Teddy the effort of scrambling up his legs and places the toddler in his lap so he can stab the desk with his quill as he is wont.
Lupin returns all in a distractingly handsome and lively flush from the jog back from wherever he went, a sheen of sweat causing his tawny hair to stick to skin. He holds something behind his back and this, for a lack of a better word, activates the toddler sitting on Severus’ knee: Teddy screeches bloody murder.
“Teddy, no.” Lupin insists. Teddy does not approve of such language and begins to sob violently, turning into Severus’ robes which serve to muffle his cries a few scant decibels.
“Brilliant.” Severus mouths at Lupin, who has the decency to look sheepish as he summons two vials from a shelf and transfigures them into glasses. This distracts Teddy, who sniffles on Severus but turns to look at what’s happening as his father places a bottle of aged mead on the desk.
“For the sake of my ears, you had better fetch something for Edward to drink if you’re going to insist on this folly.” Severus distracts Teddy with the end of his quill, intercepting the grabby hands. He takes the bait and scribbles on the desk.
“Wait here.” Lupin orders him again and disappears.
Teddy is drawing on some unfortunate student’s essay when his father returns with a sippy cup full of apple juice. This commands Teddy’s attention and he throws the quill at his father. Lupin frowns.
“We don’t throw, Teddy.”
“On the contrary, Edward throws like he’s on the payroll to do it.” Severus counters, wandlessly levitating his quill back to the desk. Teddy’s grabby hands seize the apple juice and Remus finally sits down. He pours Severus a glass of mead, then himself.
Presumably only then does Remus Lupin realize they have nothing to discuss over drinks, not being friends and barely tolerating each other as colleagues as each skillfully avoided the other for the better part of a year and some change.
“You…er—” Lupin clears his throat, “…call him Edward? No one calls him Edward, not even his gran.”
“Then why on earth did you name him thus?” Severus swirls the honey liquid, then sniffs the mead for poison. It smells of mead. Teddy mirrors him and shakes his sippy cup up and down. He waits to see if Severus is going to throw it or not, and Severus resists the urge to throw it in Lupin’s face. He takes a sip instead. It’s pleasantly sweet; the taste of honey coats his tongue and the liquid sits warm in his stomach, where it oozes out into his bones.
“Well, I didn’t name him.” Remus crosses a leg over the other, his thigh broad where it strains against his trousers. “He’s named for Andy’s husband. My late father-in-law.”
Severus rolls his eyes, “So now this is a multi-generational farce.”
Remus chuckles, “I suppose…say, you haven’t seen him change recently, have you?”
Severus regards Teddy; tawny hair, coniferous green eyes—he looks like Remus Lupin’s son.
“I don’t think Edward is interested in looking elsewise recently.” Severus shrugs, “At least when he’s roaming the dungeons, that is. Perhaps he wishes me to recognize him? Not that I could mistake him for another toddler who happens to live at this school.”
“You think? I’m wondering if he hasn’t…lost it, maybe. The ability. Not his mind. Well, maybe. I dunno.” Remus regards Teddy like some strange creature that fell through his window one day and not the intentionally produced fruit of his loins.
It occurs to Severus he doesn’t know how intentional Teddy’s existence was.
“I imagine he just one day developed control over it and has since decided to remain as so.”
“But why not change himself to something more interesting?”
Severus glances between father and son, “Er…he is? To him, at any rate; who is more interesting than his own father?”
Remus blinks at his son, head cocked to the side. “Wait, so you don’t think he looks like this normally, he’s deciding to look like me?”
Severus shrugs, “How could I know? He’s a bit like a boggart, isn’t he?”
Teddy the Human Boggart doesn’t find this nearly as insulting as his father does.
“That’s awful, Severus.”
“Is it? How can we know what he looks like? He can’t even tell us. Edward, what do you look like?”
“Haggar!”
“He means Hagrid.” Remus clarifies. “You don’t look like Hagrid, Teddy.”
Teddy aims the apple juice at his father. Severus encircles the toddler’s wrist and stops the assault in motion. Remus exhales loudly, blinking at Teddy. He pours more mead for himself and Severus, and this seems to convince Teddy not to weaponize his beverage.
The man’s trying to get him drunk. Severus lets him as they discuss their students. About halfway through his juice, Teddy curls up against Severus and goes to sleep.
“Why did you come back?” Lupin asks, face half buried in his arms on the desk. A sprinkle of flush from the mead adorns his cheeks. Severus can’t be much better off, though he expects the toddler burning like a furnace against him is the cause of that. He unbuttons a few buttons along his collar, watches Lupin’s eyes wander as he does. He’s had too much to drink, or his eyes wouldn’t linger, so Severus tells himself.
“The thing about retirement,” Severus rubs the skin around the scar, tender from long hours of abrasion even against silk, “is that there’s nothing to bloody do. I spent the preceding twenty years with a job; a job I did not choose for myself. I found I do not have the ability to occupy myself, so here I am.”
“Well, I’m glad. I don’t know who told you differently, but we’re too young to retire and I don’t imagine I would ever get to see you otherwise.”
And why on earth would you want to do that?
“Your son’s godfather thought differently.” Severus counters.
“You took a seventeen-year-old’s advice to retire? Harry thinks forty is old the way Teddy thinks ten is ancient.”
Severus shrugs, “It seemed sound advice at the time. I certainly felt old enough to retire, laying in that hospital bed. Not much has changed since.”
Remus stands and drains his glass. He empties the rest of the bottle into Severus’. He leans over the desk, heady honey wine breath warm on Severus’ face.
“Maybe next time, we can work on making you feel young again,” Remus murmurs. He pushes Teddy’s hair back from his forehead before scooping the sleeping toddler into his arms, hand dragging against Severus’ thigh as he does. “I can think of a couple ideas off the top of my head.”
“You’re ridiculous. And drunk.” His flush burns past scar tissue.
“I promise, I’m still lonely when I’m sober. Care for a demonstration?”
Severus blinks, “What?”
“I’ve been thinking of late I’m too young to be this miserable. Same applies to you, I reckon. Shall we see if I can’t make you feel young again?”
Severus laughs; Lupin’s eyes dilate.
Absurd. “Fine.”
Lupin leans in. Cups Severus’ chin. He traces his jaw with his thumb, gives ample time for Severus to reconsider, then tilts his face up and kisses him.
He tastes warm. Stubble scratches his face, and young is not the word Severus would use to describe the feeling.
Remus pulls away. Teeth scrape his bottom lip. He checks Teddy is still fast asleep in his arms.
“Goodnight, Severus.”
“…Remus.” He’s more breathless than he’d like to admit as he nods, still blinking vacantly as Remus saunters backwards to the door, turns, and leaves.
Severus leans back in the chair. He swirls the mead in his glass, sniffs it for poison again, just in case.
It’s too soon. A bitter thought. Too soon to feel young again, after everything. Forever too soon, perhaps.
The image of that burgundy sweater vest resurfaces; the strength in the arm which held his face. Severus reckoned the weight gain for another swing in the cycle of Lupin’s grief, but now reckons he’s mistaken. He fingers the rim of the glass. It’s too soon.
Isn’t it? Severus brushes his fingers against his lips.
He drains his glass.
Well, if he doesn’t think it too soon to wear actual colors, perhaps neither is it too soon to attempt being young again. Can’t go any worse than last time.