Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
When Severus works, it's like he's in a whole other world.
He's still Severus, of course. He scowls at his potions when they (albeit rarely) don't work out the way he wants or when they simply won't move fast enough. He grumbles at his ingredients that come in packages with too-small-to-read writing, and he just generally carries that air of grumpiness that is so very Severus, and it amuses Remus to no end.
Remus still stays hidden around the corner, as he peers imperceptibly around it. Because every once in awhile, when Severus is in that special little world, composed of only his workroom and his potions, Severus muscles' relax that extra centimeter, and every once in a blue moon, he smiles.
Even Remus only ever gets smirks. But then, Remus is a mischievously little imp who spies on the man he married. He quickly ducks back around the wall whenever Severus looks over his shoulder, and Remus creeps back up the stairs when he hears Severus approaching. Severus is a hard man to spy on—the hairs on the back of his neck always rise within minutes.
When the door to the basement reopens a minute later, Remus is sitting innocently at the kitchen table, hands around cold coffee. He's in his bathrobe—"You're supposed to be sleeping."
Remus tries to look sheepish and buries his grin in his mug. He mumbles, "Couldn't sleep," into it.
Severus rolls his eyes and paces around the table, pulling out a chair. "The full moon's in a few days."
"I'll be alright. You're making my wolfsbane."
"You're spying on me."
Remus lowers his cup with a sigh. Even with his heightened senses, he gets caught too often to be proud of. But really, it isn't his fault Severus looks so very interesting bent over a cauldron. His skilled fingers are a marvel to watch, and Remus harbours no regrets. "If you'd come upstairs and cuddle with me, I wouldn't have to."
Severus rolls his eyes again. It's a common practice in their relationship, but Remus doesn't grow tired of it. Every exasperated expression Severus makes puts a smile on Remus' lips, and he stretches his legs out under the table. His bare foot slides over Severus' sock—Severus is in head-to-toe black robes, as usual. Even though they're at home and there are no students in Spinner's End. He'd be much better off working shirtless, or in a robe like Remus. Severus wears the most finicky robes that just take forever to remove...
"Remus," Severus says slowly, in that mocking, I'm-only-going-to-say-this-once tone of his. Remus leans forward on his elbow, chin in his palm, as though listening intently. "You need your rest. The last time I gave into your shenanigans, you were bedridden for two days when the moon rose."
"And you were there to nurse me back to health," Remus remembers, eyelids slipping down. A warm grin worms across his face as he remembers his lover's strong embrace, holding him and stroking him, making him feel secure and safe. What was once an affliction is now an excuse to have Severus near, and 'bedridden' is no longer a scary word to Remus. He'll take the pain, if Severus comes with it. But Severus is strict, and when Remus slides his eyes open, he quietly concedes, "I promise I'll behave."
With a quirked eyebrow, Severus muses, "You never behave." But Remus can read the desire in those black eyes.
Remus picks up one of Severus' hands. He runs his own fingers over Severus' long, calloused digits, and lifts Severus' palm to his mouth, and places a soft kiss in the center. He holds Severus' hand against his cheek and begs, "Stay with me."
Severus drawls matter-of-factly, "I'm always with you."
Remus smiles.
