A/N: Hey guys! So I've been working on this and on my longfic a bit, but I find I have to think a little about how to proceed with the other, so here's a little hold me over for you. I had actually wanted to get it out earlier this week, but I go to UCF and if any of you have seen the news I'm sure you can imagine how stressful and a little terrifying this week has been. But all is (relatively) back to normal (if I studiously ignore the cops and the tv in the food halls..) so here we go!
I actually am planning for this to be a series, but not in a unfinished story sort of way, it's all fluff established relationship just for when I feel like writing a cute little one shot or drabble. I won't add one until they're completed, and they don't need to be read in any order or anything. They're all in Severus' point of view, first person, which I'd never done before and I actually really enjoyed! So, I hope you do too.
Happy reading!
XO,
S
I stumble slightly as the rain soaked pavement rushes up to meet my incoming feet. Hopefully the soft pop of apparition was not enough to wake him. I see no light turn on inside the house, so maybe, just maybe I can get away with it this time.
He hates when I come home late. I can hear his voice in my head. We have so little time as it is, and you go and make it that much shorter. Well, I can't help it if I have work that must be attended to. Being the sole Potions Master at the castle is quite a full time job. He should be lucky he has as much time with me as he does. I snort once, releasing a small puff of steam in the cold night air. If he saw any more of me he'd probably have left me long ago.
I make my way to the front door, eager to rid myself of my travelling robes and luggage. I feel guilty as I look around our small foyer. There are new pictures on the small table next to the closet, pictures of us. Probably the majority of pictures that exist of us. It has been too long since I last set foot here, in our home. He usually comes to see me. I'd never thought about it before. I sigh, wishing Poppy hadn't needed so many potions to be restocked this week, wishing I had come home early enough for him to be awake to greet me.
I hang my coat in the closet, quietly holding the handle as I close the door as to not make any noise. The light is on in the living room, and I silently shake my head at the irresponsibility of the young man I share my home with. Flipping a switch on your way out, you would think, would not be that strenuous.
I shuffle my way towards the light, suddenly feeling the flurry of activities that was my day taking its toll on my weathered body. I yawn, turning the corner, and almost regret my earlier thoughts. Almost.
He is asleep, curled up on our leather couch, glasses askew across his face, hair falling in tangles over his eyes. My lips curl up in spite of myself and I find myself smiling at the mess of a being splayed, drooling, on my (rather expensive) Italian leather. I shake my head, kneeling beside the arm of the couch and removing his glasses to the end table. I grab his hand softly, rubbing his palms, calloused from the hours spent on his broom. I suppose you don't get to be the world's greatest seeker without spending Merlin only knows how many hours on a broomstick. I roll my eyes as I think of the silly title the press has given him. His hand is cold, despite the fire roaring in front of him, so I grab the knit throw from the floor where it had fallen and toss it back over him. He cuddles into it, grabbing it in his hand and wrapping it around himself, humming slightly in his sleep. I brush the fringe from his brow and kiss the lightning scar on his forehead, letting him sleep. We can catch up in the morning.
Standing up slowly, trying to ignore the ache in my knees and back, I make my way into the kitchen, hitting the switch on the living room lights as I pass. If he wants to get to the bedroom, the fire should be enough to light his way. I decide lights don't help the clumsy fool that much anyway, he runs square into the furniture in the middle of the day, quite regularly.
I ran a hand through my hair, thinking of how it probably could use a good scrub. I scowl as I think of having to use the store bought crap that Harry brings home, not having been able to brew myself any recently. I guess something is better than nothing.
I find today's Prophet on the end of the counter, folded neatly on top of the latest issue of Potions Monthly. I soften, glancing back toward the living room. He really is a good man, no matter how much the Slytherin in me hates to admit it about a Gryffindor. I sit down in one of the stools by the kitchen bar and pick up the Prophet, perusing the headlines. Minister to Travel to America; Ireland Seeker Caught with Bulgarian Keeper; Ministry Looking to Expand; Hogwarts Teacher Wins Lottery. I stop at this one, interest peaked. I flip open to the full article, skimming for details. Professor Aurora Sinistra of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry won it big this Monday, claiming the prize of 1,500 galleons in the National Lottery. In a recent interview, the 36 year old teacher told she plans to spend her summer holidays on a sandy beach in Rio, before returning to the Scottish countryside for the new school term.
"Good for her," I turn quickly, catching the tail end of a wide yawn as he leans against the door frame. I hadn't realized I'd been reading aloud. He is clutching his blanket around himself, hair completely a mess again, glasses thrown haphazardly onto his face. He yawns once more and pads his way across to me.
"Sorry I woke you, you should go to bed," I tell him softly, turning in my chair so that he can more easily lean his weight into my side.
He ignores me. "I tried to wait up for you, but..." he trails off, a crooked smile playing across his lips. I didn't realize how much I missed that smile until this moment. "I thought you'd be home earlier,"
"So did I," I admit, rubbing his back softly. He hums, and I can feel the vibration in my fingertips.
"How was the feast?" he asks, moving from my side to start making a pot of tea. He's always interested in what goes on at the school. I think he misses it.
"As always. The food was fair, the students far too rowdy. I was glad to see them on the train at last," I say, folding the Prophet up and placing it back in its place on top of the magazine.
He laughs softly, "I dare say it was better than fair," I shrug. He holds up two boxes. "Earl grey or green with sage?"
"Do we have any honey left?" I ask, ruefully. I should know what is in stock within my own house.
He shakes his head. " Neville, Luna, Hagrid and the Weasleys came round last week, I haven't stopped off for any more yet," he says, an apologetic touch to his voice.
I wave it off. "I can grab some in the morning, Green is fine,"
He nods, putting the box of Earl Grey bags back into the counter. I watch him as he carefully sets out two mugs, placing a small spoon and a tea bag in both, gently draping the string over the side opposite the handle. He takes such care, I almost cannot believe this is the same man that once used to melt cauldrons in my dungeon.
"How was your day?" I ask as he stands back, waiting for the water to boil.
"Rather uneventful," he sighs, turning his head in my direction. I missed his green eyes, too. "Not much to do this week. All the high priority cases were dealt with by the end of last week, and nothing new has surfaced besides some questionable artifacts Dolohov's nephew found in his attic. Sent Ron to take care of that, so it's been mostly paperwork," he scrunches his face in contempt. He hates paperwork.
"Comes with the territory," I tell him. You don't get to head the Auror department without filling out a form now and then. He nods, but chooses to stay silent. Rare.
The tea kettle whistles, and I settle in to watch him work again, pouring the water to just the right level, dunking the bags in and out of the water - 4 times each - and then swirling the spoon around twice. It's the same every time. He walks over to the small table and sets the mugs down, sitting on the far side, and pulling his blanket back over his shoulders.
I join him, finding his foot with mine under the table. He smiles softly, looking up at me from under his lashes.
I feel the edges of my mouth creep upwards, as close to a smile as I usually get. He takes a sip.
"I'm glad you're home," he says softly, as he rests the cup in both hands, keeping them warm.
"As am I," I take a sip of my own tea, closing my eyes briefly. He knows exactly how I like it. He makes the tea from the house elves taste like dish water. I had missed his tea, too.
"I missed you, Severus," he admits, my name falling off his tongue lightly. He scrunches up his face again, and I can almost see his thoughts forming.
"Don't even try," I growl, trying to thwart the imminent argument he is to make.
"But come on, Severus is so, so..." he struggles for a word, "formal" he finishes.
"Formal?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I just want to call you it here," he waves vaguely around him.
I think it over for a minute. I was never keen on nicknames, to put it lightly, but I suppose I could grant him a few loyalties, taken into account that we had been together for a little over a year and a half now.
"Fine," I agree, and he smiles triumphantly. "But as soon as you incorporate some kind of confection or woodland creature, you'll find yourself with a nice hex thrown down your throat,"
He looks up from his mug, smile faltering. He doesn't know quite how to take this. I grin smugly, focusing again on my tea, and when I look up at him again, he's scowling.
I raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, scowl disappearing.
He upends his mug, finishing his tea and banishing the cup to the sink with a lazy flick of his wand. He yawns again, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Off to bed," I scold, professor leaking into my voice. He pouts slightly, but I know he agrees. "I'll be in in a moment," I say, more softly. Honestly, Gryffindors can be so touchy.
He nods once, getting up and padding off back towards where he came.
I finish my tea slowly, savoring the feeling of drinking it in my own kitchen. When there was nothing left but leaves, I walk it over to the sink and wash both of our mugs, placing them back in the counter.
I find him standing in front of the fireplace, staring into the dying flames. I stand behind him.
"The bed is cold without you," he mutters, morosely.
I say nothing, wrapping my arms around his waist and nuzzling myself into his neck. He smells of sleep and sandalwood, and utterly Harry. I kiss him once on the ear, detaching one hand to smooth his hair as I whisper "Come on, let's go to bed," I untangle myself from him and I hear a small noise of disappointment.
Taking his hand, I lead him to our bedroom, unwrap his blanket and drape it over the chair in the corner. He climbs into bed, green eyes watching me as I change into my pajamas. I roll my eyes as he smirks, and finally climb into bed with him.
He's watching me as I situate myself, and I turn warily to face him.
"You're going to cuddle me aren't you?" I asked, hesitantly, knowing the answer already.
"Damn right I am," he smirks again, scooting closer and laying his head on my chest. I roll my eyes, but play with his hair nonetheless.
He is asleep within minutes, but tonight, I don't roll him back over to his side of the bed. Tonight, I wrap him up in my arms, happy to be home.
I can save the sneer and snark for tomorrow.