Caring for Severus Part IV
Severus had insisted that Potter transfer him from the wheelchair to the couch in advance of Minerva's arrival. Severus' dignity could have done without the bridal hold, to say nothing of the strange feeling of being held, but he brushed it off, no doubt astir because he had to face the Headmistress.
Technically, she had been to see him in the infirmary-she'd patted his hand, told him briskly to 'get well', then absconded before they'd had to have the talk that was now coming. Despite what he might wish, he knew they needed this longer conversation-their last year as colleagues had been acrimonious. She had bristled at every turn, and, in order to stay in character, he'd had to barb each return remark. He'd often made it personal to sell the performance.
He knew just how fond Minerva had been of Albus, too; and he of her. They were old friends, and had seen two wars together. To think that Severus had killed her friend in spite-that thought had taken something from Minerva that no amount of knowing the truth now could give back. He might not have killed the old tabby, but he was aware that his deception had haunted, aged her.
She arrived at the door to his rooms promptly, and Potter showed her in and made sure tea and biscuits were shared around.
"I'm glad to see you looking well." Minerva said. "Better than I might have thought. Mr Potter seems to be taking good care of you."
"He makes an admirable nursemaid." Severus responded wryly, as said Potter made a face at him over a biscuit.
"I shan't beat around the bush, Severus. We've some matters to settle regarding Hogwarts. I assumed the mantle of Headmistress while you were indisposed, but I'm more than prepared to step down as soon as you are ready."
Severus' mouth dropped open. "Minerva! You've let the blasted boy get to you with his nonsense too?"
"I don't think its nonsense." Minerva sniffed. "Albus clearly intended to leave you in charge. He trusted you with this school-with all of our safety during your grand deception."
"Yes, 'safe' is exactly how the faculty and student body felt with myself and the Carrows at the helm." Severus sneered.
"I-I didn't see it at the time Severus-and I feel an old fool for it-but you did keep us as safe as you could. No one died or went mad, and that's quite a lot to say for a school under His regime." Minerva's voice had an unaccustomed tremble to it.
Severus surprised himself by leaning across and resting his hand on hers. "You, especially, were not supposed to see. I tried my very hardest to be cruel so that you would not suspect my true intentions. For that, I apologise."
Minerva gave him a searching look. "I've known you since you were eleven, Severus Snape. Nothing short of-of what happened with Albus-would have made me believe it. That canny old bastard, to make such a plan, and to leave such a thankless task to you..."
Severus blanched and withdrew. He was not expecting sympathy, wasn't sure what to do with it.
He cleared his throat: "Nevertheless, it is done, and its legacy cannot be altered. You must understand why the wizarding community would not accept my return to the position. Besides, it is your rightful place, Minerva. You were his deputy."
"In name only, it would seem." She shook her head. "Harry said you might be difficult, so I came armed with a second proposal. Never let it be said I am incapable of compromise." Here, she darted a look at Potter that seemed to smack of some private joke. "This is the deal I am prepared to offer. When the school re-opens, provided you are well enough, you will assume the position of Deputy Head, so that after my own illustrious reign puts some distance between yourself and the war, you will be Headmaster again, some day. In addition, you will resume your position as Head of Slytherin House. Merlin knows those children will need some stewarding to get through the difficult years ahead." Minerva set down her tea-cup. "Your teaching responsibilities will include NEWT level Potions, and NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Severus narrowed his brow. That sounded suspiciously...ideal. "Why arrange the classes that way?"
"Because frankly, your teaching manner leaves a little to be desired when dealing with the 'dunderheaded' junior years. And the older students would benefit from your demonstrated expertise in both subjects. Do you object?"
"I-if you think the parents-the board-would stomach me?"
It was a rare thing for him to stammer, and the old cat knew it. "I think that your presence would be a political boon. The remaining Slytherins need to see you, not cowed by society, but remaining proud and, yes, ambitious. Meanwhile the hand-wringers among the parents will see my taking the position of Headmistress as a regime change ushering in a new and better post-war era. Hogwarts will need both of us for a good long while yet, I dare say."
Severus was on the verge of agreeing when he stopped short: "Who will teach the junior classes for each subject?"
Here Minerva gave a smile as sly as any of his student snakes. "Horace is keen to re-enter retirement, but will be pleased to stay on, with the same standard of pay, but lighter duties, for junior Potions."
Severus snorted. "And Defence?"
Minerva took a sip from her tea-cup and rested it back on the table before answering: "Mr Potter will answer that call. He had plenty of practice leading younger students in the DA."
Potter blushed uncomfortably under Severus' gaze, as though waiting to be declared unworthy.
Instead, Severus asked: "What about the Aurors?"
Potter shrugged. "There's no rush. Kingsley is prepared to allow me to train part-time over the next year to fit in with my other responsibilities."
"Mr Potter could possibly do with a year's rest from chasing Dark Wizards at any rate." Minerva sniffed.
"So, do you accept?" Potter asked.
"I do. Indeed, I could not have tailored a position to better suit my own wishes." He gave Potter a pointed look. "Thank you, Headmistress."
Potter saw her out.
When he returned, Severus scowled. "You," he said "have been meddling."
"You make it sound like some grand scheme."
"Is it not?"
"It was a conversation over some joint gargoyle repair, actually." Potter replied.
"What possessed you? Did you imagine I would enjoy my future at this institution being the subject of idle discussion between a former colleague and a former student? Decided upon without even my consultation?"
"You said you were happy with the plan." Potter groused.
"What I am not happy with, Potter, is all this instigating you are doing on my behalf. We have been living together for all of seven days and already you have assumed control of my health, my press, and now my work! Can you not imagine how discomforting such an attitude is for a man of my experiences?"
Potter's frown was reminiscent of someone realising they were losing at chess. "Do you mean, because I didn't ask you first, I'm somehow like Voldemort?"
"I mean that I have spent the last several years serving two masters, and I am not in the market for a third." Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously, forgetting for the moment that he was incapable of following up on any threats he might make.
Potter scrunched up his face. "This is an owing-people-things thing, isn't it?"
"If you continue to butcher both the English language and reasoned thought in such a manner, I shall refuse further dialogue." Severus growled.
"It is! You didn't get mad over the Prophet, and you liked the arrangement with McGonagall...so, individually, they're fine, but together they feel like too much to you-like I'll expect something big in return?"
"Do you not?"
"Of course not! You don't do the right thing by someone in order to rack up favours against them! Especially while they're sick! That would be..."
"Tactical?"
"Extortion." Potter snorted. "Look, Professor, I'll put it in writing, if you want, that I don't want anything from you. Far as I'm concerned, you've already done plenty." He tugged at his hair. "I guess it's not easy for you...trusting me."
Severus snorted. "I trust your current good intentions, Potter. And thus far, I admit I am pleased with the results you have wrought. But I do not wish ever again to exist only by another's courtesy. Understand, if you worm your way too close to the centre of all my affairs, you will also be in a position to sabotage them, should our accord be ruined for some reason. Then who would be my ally against the Boy Who Continues to Live?" He scowled. "It is better if I rely on myself as much as possible."
Potter had been staring while Severus was speaking as though he were an ashwinder, emerging, unexpected, from a Muggle fireplace.
"Sir, you must know deep down that's sort of stupid. If I've helped you get some things you want, surely that only puts you in a stronger position for the future, even if I were to go mental and sabotage you somehow. What you're worried about is feeling obligated to me, I think. But I'm just trying to be friends here. I'm never going to ask you to get a tattoo with my sigil, or even to eavesdrop on people who might Crucio you for your trouble. You won't owe me anything more than friendship-and even then, only what you're willing to give."
"I cannot continue being the one-way recipient of your benevolence." Severus made the words sound poisoned. "Friendships require balance. Things to be given and taken by both parties. Everybody wants something, Potter."
"Yeah. I want to be your friend." Potter said it in a voice that implied Severus was slow.
"I suppose you want me to share stories about your mother." Severus sniffed, pleased to at least have that to barter.
Potter blinked. "Well, yeah, I'd like that. Of course I would. But not as, er, a kind of payment. I'd like to hear them when you want to tell them."
Severus snorted. "You realise that will be a cold day in hell. I am not, by nature, a convivial person."
"That's okay. I'm not really a big people person either. Especially not in groups." Potter shrugged. He hesitated towards Severus, and arranged him so that he could lift him back into the wheelchair.
Once returned to his normal seated position, Potter lay a hesitant arm on his shoulder. "There are no trap doors in this, Sir, I promise."
Severus said nothing as Potter pushed his chair back into the bedroom.
xxxx
Severus found the warm water soothing on his taut muscles. Everything had been upended so quickly-the war's end, his illness, his accord with Potter. He had not felt so out of control of his emotions and senses-well, since Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew had reappeared in his life four years ago, reminding him of so much that was unpleasant in his past.
Even then, his fear, disbelief, embarrassment and reminder of Albus' favouritism was easily enough translated into anger. He'd still had a sense of purpose with the Order, his routines at the school to centre himself.
No, this sense of upheaval was much more reminiscent of the night he'd thrown himself on Albus' mercy. He'd lost his purpose then too, within the Dark Lord's ranks-everything he believed about himself and the world had been unravelling.
He didn't feel the same burning sense of shame and wrongdoing now that he had then-but the confusion? The sense of being derailed? They were a little too familiar.
His drifting thoughts were grounded, a little, by the scent of sandalwood. Potter was washing his face. He sighed. An overwhelmingly coconut fragrance replaced it, as Potter worked his hair through with the Muggle shampoo.
He disliked the over-fragrant product, but he did like the way Potter used his fingers to rub and scratch at the base of his skull whilst washing his hair. He had noticed that his hair was in better condition now than it ever had been before-something to do with the frequent brushing transferring the sebum oils from root to tip and rendering his hair less lank. He'd honestly never realised combing one's hair served anything more than a cosmetic function, but he'd decided he would continue it regularly once Potter was no longer responsible for his care.
Potter got him out of the shower and dried him off with a spell.
"Wow...this is..." Potter hesitated as he pulled back the wound dressing on Severus' neck.
"What is it, Potter?" He asked sharply.
"It's practically healed."
Potter ran a gentle finger over the new skin and the scabbed over sections. It felt unbearably vulnerable to be touched so close to his injury, but Severus gritted his teeth and said nothing.
"Your magic must have sped up the recovery."
"Indeed."
"I think we can leave the dressing off now-letting the air get to it is probably the best thing."
He arranged a dry towel over the region and proceeded to comb Severus' hair. Then came the unguent. Although Potter was always thorough, and always left Severus' private regions for last, he had a strange habit of starting the massage in a different region each time. Today, he rubbed a handful of unguent into Severus' chest, holding a hand over Severus' brow to steady his head, and stroking the warmed ointment upward underneath his chin. His hands grazed Severus' nipple, collarbone, and over his Adam's apple.
It soon became clear that he was planning to apply the unguent close to the scabbed over bite marks on the side of Severus' neck.
"Don't venture too close." Severus warned.
"Don't you want to regain feeling in your neck? It'd be a terrible place not to have feeling."
Severus frowned, already buzzing and warm from the unguent doing its work. "Why is that?"
"Well, because the neck is sort of sensitive. There's a reason people leave hickeys all over one another's necks." Potter said.
"You're concerned about my ability to register the sensation of...love-bites?" Severus deadpanned.
Potter blushed and didn't answer.
"Let me assure you, I am far more concerned that you will restart bleeding in the region."
"I'm being careful." Potter tutted, voice tinged with embarrassment.
The massage continued over his face, his ears, over his shoulders, and Severus started to feel pleasantly drowsy and relaxed. It was not likely that Potter would deem it necessary to help Severus out with his erection again, having attended to it yesterday, but he could still enjoy the thrumming of the unguent and Potter's soothing hands on his other muscles.
He was quite surprised when Potter slid a deft hand under the towel and twisted it over his shaft. He seemed to have taken note, yesterday, of what Severus did and did not like, and the information made him much more efficient. Severus' orgasm was extracted ruthlessly-past the shock, he was aware that he was making much more noise than he would have liked.
He bit his lip.
Dear gods, was he thinking-letting himself be put into such a powerless position, by Potter of all people? On whose mercy he had to rely for at least the next two months? But it felt so good, and it seemed this kindness might be offered to him every day-could he be strong enough to refuse?
It could complicate their already quite complex relationship…
Severus lost track of all thought, moaning as Potter rolled his foreskin up over his cockhead then revealed it, sliding a lubricated thumb over the aperture once, twice-oh God-with a guttural sound, he came, shuddering as Potter squeezed him, and let him catch his panting breath before cleaning him up.
Well-if he had thought yesterday that a hand job was quite a magnitude better than self service, today he was seeing stars.
He wasn't entirely sure whether he had fallen asleep in the chair or in Potter's arms, but once Potter transferred him to his bed, he was unconscious before his head touched the pillow.
xxxx
That evening Severus watched Potter clear up the dishes, then settle in an armchair by Severus' bed in order to read. He tucked his feet up under him, as though perfectly content to be here, doing just this.
Despite his more prudent misgivings, Severus found himself looking forward to the future for the first time since...he couldn't remember when. He was to get an OOM at the ceremony when the school reopened, and the prize money associated with it; he would teach Defence and Potions, but only to the most talented and least annoying students Hogwarts had to offer. One day he might even be able to resume the mantle of Headmaster without shame, or a sense of theft or wrongdoing hanging over the position.
It was, frankly, a future far beyond his cynical imagining.
He examined the tousled head that was bent over its reading material nearby him.
It...pleased him that he would have Potter's company, as a colleague, at the school next year. It would have seemed wrong for their relationship to have achieved the strange intimacy it had, only for that to fade into acquaintanceship, had Potter returned to London in mere months to be Kingsley's rising star at the Ministry.
Severus felt a strange pang in his chest at that. He didn't want to give Potter over to Kingsley's influence. He rather liked the thought of honing Potter's continued Defence training himself. Kingsley would no doubt admire Potter's raw strength too much, and neglect the need for finesse, and controlled strikes in duelling.
In their work together, Severus would do no such thing.
xxxx