He loved receiving muggle post. The envelope carefully addressed, lest the destination be misunderstood by those red-clad postmen. He loved the soft-to-stroke white envelopes it arrived in, or more similar to parchment; brown wrapped parcels tied with a piece of gruff string. The uncertainty in the contents. The excitement on which day expected post would arrive and the surprise when something unexpected landed on the mat, like an old friend crossing the threshold; each gift or letter having its own tale to tell when the recipient was ready to engage with the small piece of the past that they were holding in their hands. Guessing whose writing it might be or feeling a flooding warmth when the hand was recognised immediately. It was as magical as time travel, without the complications…usually. Not that he'd received anything for many years. Not until this morning.

He was surprised the postman still knew his address. The last thing to arrive the muggle way at Spinner's End was almost 15 years ago. He heard the unusual clattering sound, just as he was drinking his tea at 11am sharp. It took his brain a while to register what the sound was. When he did, he panicked. Snape was particularly careful in making sure he didn't receive any junk mail, though if anyone were to ask how he managed this astounding feat, he would just smile and shake his head knowingly. The truth involved knowing a squib in the Royal Mail, but he preferred people to think he used much more bad-ass methods.

The emitter of the clattering sound lay on his mat, now silent having announced its presence. The address was written in a hand which he recognised from the man's year long stint at Hogwarts. He strode to the sitting room window, to confirm what the postmarked stamp already said, that it had indeed been delivered by a postman, not the author of the letter.

Adding some sugar to his tea and stirring thoughtfully, he sat down, briefly ignoring the letter. The attempt was in vain. Draining his tea, he leapt straight back up and picked the letter up from the doormat. He paced. He went upstairs and sat on his bed. His eyes roved over the envelope tracing the curves in his name 'Professor S. Snape'. He had one question. Why?

If Severus Snape wasn't such a curious man he would have left the letter, then panicked some more. As it was, he picked up his sword shaped letter opener (a prize on a cruise ship holiday, Dumbledore had suggested they both take, the summer after Lily had died, which he grudgingly admitted to having enjoyed), subsequently slicing along the fold, another thing he loved doing with muggle post. He pulled the letter out, as if it were made of tissue paper, unfolded it, then read it. His eyebrows knitted together as he poured over the contents.

Remus Lupin would be visiting him at 12pm that day. He had something he needed to talk to Snape about. Did he want him to make another batch of Wolfsbane potion? Was it something to do with the Order? Surely that would have been sent by owl. Snape would just have to wait and see.

Remus Lupin. The one man whom he avoided, not because he disliked him, which was the case of the other Marauders at school, he'd respected Lupin's work ethic and ability to deal with his predicament. He liked Lupin. A lot. Wherein lay the problem.

The slow ticking of the clock on his mantelpiece drew his attention to the time. 25 minutes until Lupin's expected arrival. He could almost feel his sweat-glands panicking. Slow breathing. In. Out. How could a grown man possibly feel like a teenage boy when presented with the idea of a man, whom he'd realised he'd liked since the first day at Hogwarts but had never had the chance to get close to?! Did that question even have a logical answer?

'No, because love is never logical,' Snape cursed under his breath. The statement he repeated more than any other. Even more than 'Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter!' He said it to himself every time he was attracted to someone, who in reality was a ridiculous choice but to his heart was the most amazing person in the universe.

Somewhere in between rushing to put new robes on and combing his hair, the clock struck twelve. A sharp rap at the door, subsequently followed it. Answering it in the calmest manner that he could, Snape opened the door to an equally nervous Lupin. They both nodded at each other and Snape gestured for his barely expected guest to enter.

'Please, sit yourself down, Lupin,' Snape said with added bravado. Even Lupin, who had been twitching nervously, looked slightly alarmed at Snape's ridiculously jolly tone, 'For what do you owe this visit?'

'Well I know you're straight up with people…' Remus started, looking as if he wanted encouragement to bring up his reason for calling. Snape merely stared at him in response, 'I'm in a bit of a predicament. It's Sirius. I like him.'

'Are you telling me, Lupin, that you, having given me precisely one hour of notice before your arrival, have come to tell me that you're fond of your best friend who you've been friends with since you were eleven?' Snape spluttered. He'd have to have a word with that damned squib at the post office. If he was going to receive post, he'd like to at least receive it in good time so that he wasn't caught unawares like this.

'No it's- I'm not good at articulating these things. Like I said you'll tell me straight. I think I'm in love with him and have been for some time. What do I do?'

'I think my ears are deceiving me Lupin. You seem to have come to talk about Black, a man whom I avoid at every given possibility. Then, you seem to be asking me about a topic, where I'd rather poke myself in both eyes with my wand than discuss it. Is. That. Correct?' Snape spoke in a dangerously low tone.

'Look I know you have a front, Severus, but you're logical. Do I tell him? Do I ignore my feelings? If there was someone else I could talk to I would…' Remus sighed.

'Molly Weasley, perhaps.'

'You know what she'd tell me; to go buy him some flowers and woo him. I want something a bit less 19th century.'

'Fine, fine,' Snape exhaled. 'If it were me, I'd want you to drop it into the conversation jokingly, test the water. Then gauge the response. If it goes well press it further. Talk for a few hours and when you're both at that stage where you're so tired, that the conversation can become more abstract and intense, say it. Then go from there…'

Remus nodded thoughtfully. It seemed like a watertight method. Snape looked impressed with himself and asked if Remus wanted a cup of tea. The latter looked up in surprise and agreed. Snape didn't seem like the kind of person who'd be a good host. Though, the truth was that Snape wanted a break from picturing Lupin and Black 'romantically involved' with one another. The idea was even more sickening than the time he caught Filch giving Mrs Norris a Valentine's Day card. He still quivered at the memory of it…

While Snape walked to the kitchen, Remus looked around the room. It was a nice house really, certainly better than his. Remus' eyes scanned the mantelpiece to see if Snape had any significant others on the side but there were only images of countryside scenes, all looking slightly lonely and desolate. It was painful to look at. He shook his head and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He didn't have the courage to announce what he wanted to. First, he'd avoided putting it in the letter and once again he'd bottled in in person. He was going to have to do it now or it would never happen!

Remus pulled himself out of the sofa, trembling slightly in nervous anticipation of what he was about to reveal to Snape. He walked determinedly towards the kitchen, where his reason for visiting was standing there, lifting a teapot onto a tray.

'I just wanted to say that it wasn't really Sirius I was talking about earlier. It was you.'

The words hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds. Both Snape and Lupin stared as the teapot fell out of Snape's grip seemingly of its own accord and accelerated towards the kitchen floor.

'Really?' Snape replied, his voice particularly high, as the teapot crashed into the floor.

Remus, cast reparo, trying to at least fix some part of the situation, then stormed out of the kitchen, suddenly embarrassed at his revelation. Did he expect Snape to turn around, grin and hug him? As it was, Snape followed him from the kitchen to the front door and watched him wrestle with the lock. No-one was ever able to undo it.

'I can open the door for you in a moment, Lupin but I could have sworn I told you, if it were me, to hint gently and then say it in the wee hours of the morning. So you seem to have quite a bit of time before you should be leaving.'

Remus slowly turned around looking confused, his left eyebrow forming a question.

Snape shook his head; he didn't quite know what to say or how to even start to form an answer or explanation. He really would need all night to do to that. So instead he stepped up to Remus, whose only option was to press closer into the door, praying that Snape wasn't going to hit him with an unforgivable curse.

Snape looked straight at Remus and pressed his lips firmly onto his, Remus' eyebrows shooting up into his rapidly receding hairline.

'I've been in love with you since our first term at Hogwarts you blind git,' Snape eventually articulated, walking back into the sitting room, leaving Remus standing speechless at the door.

It was a long time before Remus stepped back into the sitting room but, then again, he knew he had all night and it looked like Snape loved him already.

AN: Anything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling not myself. I wrote this as a fairly lighthearted bit of fun, I hope you enjoyed it, as much as I liked writing it. Please feel free to write a review, they really do help me to improve on my work.