It comes not as a shock that the two persons sitting to his left are more than colleagues. Age can be an important factor, and both are counted in the small group of the elder ones. They have known each other very long. I've heard her saying to me once that he had taught her her present speciality, when she was a Hogwarts' student. She has been a teacher for at least forty years now.
From my eye corner, I notice that she's lifting away the last mouthful from his plate with her fork, and quickly finds the way to her mouth. He comments, she responds. He deflects, she attacks. He attacks, she deflects. A friendly fight, not uncommon. The contents of their goblets share the same colour, and I smell ethanol whenever the closest one is raised.
I ignore this, but I quicken the chewing movements, staring down at my half-empty plate. Too much food, and not enough time left.
A fork nimbly spears a cut piece of meat, quickly travelling away from my plate. Having already foreseen this, but knowing that nothing can be done to stop this action, I glare at the guilty one.
He subtly points towards his left side, earning another glare, this one just as harmless as mine, plus a quick eye roll.
"You should eat faster, dear boy, if you want me to stop: my plates is always empty before yours... because yours is never empty."
I sigh, another activity he loves to do in this setting: repeating comments.
"If that is your subtle hint for wanting my plate, Headmaster, you can just plainly ask."
"Oh no, my boy. I wouldn't want to be the cause for you tiptoeing sneakily at night to the kitchen for a midnight snack."
I shake my head and refocus my attention on my plate, my ears hearing combined, soft laughter.
It seems very impossible now, that I've once questioned the nature of their relationship. I was new, in that period, and needed time to adjust to my new position. I still felt that I was an old student, and not a teacher, in front of the many familiar, adults faces.
Even then, they had displayed this kind of behaviour. It was difficult not to notice, especially when I was trained to be able to accurately observe many things in little time. Their actions indicated a familiarity, the bond running deeper than formal friends, or casual colleagues.
The thought of the obvious answer, a long lasting friendship, hadn't crossed my mind, so puzzled, absorbed, and slightly intrigued was I.
It had taken quite a while before I was comfortable enough to ask the floating question.
"Headmaster–"
"Albus."
"Yes... Albus. I have an... odd question."
"Oh?"
"Yes... there is no need for you to answer if you don't want to..."
"Oh, I will not soon lose my balance, Severus. You may ask whatever you want, and I will do my very best to answer as best as I can."
"All right... I was just wondering... I've noticed that you and Professor McGonagall-"
"You mean Minerva."
Before I could continue, he added another comment.
"Severus, there is no need for you to be so formal. You are a Professor too, now. An equal."
"Of course..."
"I mean it, Severus."
"I understand."
Well, technically, I did not understand.
Do I understand it now, I wonder?
"You and Minerva... what kind of... relationship are you two... sharing?"
"What do you think, Severus?"
"Well... I am not sure, hence my question."
"I understand. But, judging by your tone, and your perceptive abilities, I think you've already formed an idea."
"Are you... close friends?"
A nod.
"Closer than close friends?"
A small smile appeared on his face, a smile I'd rarely seen. The meaning of it was unknown to me, then. I did not know whether he was confirming it, thus, I dared another step.
"Perhaps... even... each other's beloved?"
I heard a chuckle, and the twinkle in the blue eyes were twinkling ridiculously. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand.
"Do we make that impression?"
It is an irritating thing, answering a question with a question. But also a sign that Albus is enjoying himself immensely. Unfortunately, this knowledge is not old.
"Well..."
Another chuckle, more deeper and longer. This behaviour had been making me uncomfortable, for I knew that I had said something foolish, idiotic. The problem was, I did not know what.
"Severus, what do you think of your colleagues?"
A strange question to ask.
"I have nothing to complain."
The smile on his face faded, and his stare gained a piercing quality. He seemed to be searching for something. At that time, I absurdly thought that he was attempting to gain access to my mind, and swiftly materialised my defences. He commented not, but I was, and am still certain that my action hadn't passed unnoticed.
"This is a surprise, even to myself. I've always thought that it is widely known here, given the nature of its inhabitants."
His blue eyes twinkled again.
"I like women very much – you've already seen that – but... perhaps not in the direction your mind is facing."
This was one of the rare moments where my face had a puzzling expression for such a long period.
"What do you..."
Then, my mind turned around.
"You mean..."
A straight answer, this time: a nod.
"I... I'm sorry, I didn't–"
"'Tis okay. I'm very flattered, actually. It's a great compliment to hear this, and solid evidence for the firmness of our bond, the result after years and years of companionship."
"And Minerva?"
I would rarely be this pressing, this talkative. I wonder what had caused this... the subject, perhaps?
"She has known this a very long time now. And even if my interest was... suitable, I don't think taking that step would do both of us any good."
"...Why?"
"We are alike, but in some... intimate areas and thoughts, we differ too much from each other."
He hadn't elaborated. I sensed that this was only a superficial reason. Even if my mind had not halted me, I wouldn't have found the boldness and resolution to continue. It would take many, many more months until I've finally found the full answer.
