Severus' Portkey arrival in Étretat was, thankfully, smooth. He was immediately greeted by a cool breeze and the smells and sounds of the ocean, all salt and seaweed.
He blinked for a moment when the sound of the crashing waves met him, that first wave of air passing over him and lifting his hair a bit. He hadn't expected the Portkey to take him right to the cliffs.
It was admittedly a breathtaking view. The chalk cliffs lived up to their reputation.
"Right this way, sir," a man called from behind Severus, accent thick and voice carrying over the waves. "We have another arrival in only a minute!"
Severus hastily stepped away from the Portkey point, not keen on being crushed by who was most likely Lockhart. The grass, swaying in the wind, came up to Severus' knees and slowed him a bit.
"Welcome to Étretat!" the man continued, a bit quieter now that Severus was closer. He gestured to take the Portkey from Severus—an old, threadbare handkerchief—and Severus gratefully handed it over. "We are very excited to have you here! My name is Léo."
Léo wore a wide smile as he spoke, eyes crinkling at the corners. It reminded Severus far too much of Lockhart.
He cleared his throat and shifted to look back over the water, shimmering in the sunlight.
"I take it the course is right on the cliffs, then?" he asked, glancing at the wizard. Léo's smile grew strained at the lack of introduction—which was usually how people reacted.
"Yes, yes. It is very beautiful, no? Many of our partners love it here," Léo said.
Severus was saved from having to respond by Lockhart appearing from thin air and tumbling face-first into the tall grass, his cry cut short when he met the ground.
Severus smirked.
"Oh, dear!" Léo exclaimed, rushing forward to help Lockhart up. He emerged from the grass with a dazed expression, shaking himself from it moments later with his signature smile. His hair was wild, blades of grass sticking up here and there, his clothes askew.
He didn't seem to notice any of that as he patted his hair and chest, though, as if making sure all of him was still there. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Ah, thank you, thank you. I'm perfectly alright," Lockhart assured Léo, a bit breathlessly. "Not my most graceful moment."
Without having to think very hard, Severus could recall a hundred other moments that Lockhart would've considered to be "not his most graceful." He snorted.
His amusement was quickly replaced by irritation, though, because in the next moment, Lockhart's gaze landed on him. The way his eyes lit up made Severus want to dive behind the nearest rock.
"Severus! How was your portkey? Smoother than mine, I hope," he chuckled. Severus didn't laugh—and Léo managed a small one, most likely for Lockhart's pride. As if he needed any help there.
"You have grass in your hair," Severus drawled. Lockhart flushed a bit.
"Taking a bit of the earth with me," he said, bashful, and Severus just quirked an eyebrow. After an uncomfortably long moment, Léo cleared his throat.
"Shall we get going, then?" he asked, glancing nervously between Severus and Lockhart. "Your cottage is a very short walk from here."
Lockhart agreed enthusiastically, Severus nodded curtly, and they were on their way.
The path was a bit rocky, the wild grass making it a bit hard to walk through, but Léo was right—it was a very short walk to the cottage.
The cottage itself was located on a notch in the cliffs, the building small and brick-laid and a little worn. Vines creeped up the sides, all the way to the second floor and the sloping roof.
"How quaint," Severus muttered, just as Lockhart chirped:
"Very charming."
Severus pulled a face.
"It is one of the favorites. I can give you a tour, if you would like?" Léo suggested. Severus was going to say no, already tired of Léo's presence, but Lockhart agreed before he could say anything.
He bit his tongue as they took the tour, trying to be civil, just as Minerva said. He held back the sarcastic comments about the dripping sink in the kitchen, or the dust coating the tables, or the creaking floorboards as they walked.
The kitchen, immediately off the left side of the entrance, and the living room behind that. A set of wooden stairs directly across from the front door, only a few feet in, the dining room to the right. It should've felt cluttered, by all means, but the walls were painted white and the sunlight streaming in made it feel open.
Severus… did not like it. It was so different from what he was used to—the dungeons were much darker and smaller, obviously—but there was no reason he couldn't just make it darker. Magic served many purposes.
"Upstairs is the bed and bath," Léo said, once they'd finally made their way about the first floor, waving a hand in the general direction of the stairs, but not showing them up. Severus let out a relieved sigh. Léo would be leaving soon. Severus was quite ready for peace and quiet.
"I will Floo you tomorrow with the details of the course—the schedule and such—but you will have the weekend to get adjusted. Your things should arrive shortly, but if you want for anything, do not hesitate to call," Léo finished, a small smile on his face.
He glanced expectantly between Severus and Lockhart, but seemed to have realized that Severus wouldn't offer him anything, so most of his attention went to Lockhart.
"Thank you," Lockhart said sincerely, matching Léo in friendliness. Severus watched, impassive, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. This was how he preferred it. If nothing else, Lockhart was a good magnet for attention, which fit well with Severus' desire for people to leave him be.
"You are so welcome. Settle in well, Gilderoy, Severus," Léo said, nodding to Lockhart and Severus in turn, before exiting the cottage. There was a crack of Apparation, and they were finally, blessedly alone.
Well. Almost. Severus reminded himself that Lockhart was still with him, and that he wouldn't truly be alone for around the next month.
Severus expected Lockhart to say something to him in that awkwardly oblivious way he always did, but he immediately went for the stairs instead. Probably to find the loo and explore the bedrooms.
Severus tried not to think about them claiming spaces. It seemed like something Lockhart would do, to claim a room, because it felt childish. It made Severus' deep-buried competitive side want to rush up the stairs and find a room for himself first.
He drummed his fingers on the counter instead, and turned to rummage around the cupboards for tea. To his surprise and delight, he came across a selection of loose leaves in the cupboard beside the sink.
Unfortunately, that had to be when Lockhart came back. It was only natural, as it seemed that the man was born to interrupt silences and get on Severus' nerves. Severus could hear his heavy footsteps through the ceiling, nearing the stairs, and then the creaks of the floorboards as he made his way into the kitchen.
Severus stopped his search for a mug to stare at Lockhart, who was wringing his hands and looking anywhere but Severus.
Severus narrowed his eyes.
"Don't hex the messenger—" Lockhart started, nervous, "but we're short a room, and a bed."
Severus wanted to hex the messenger.
He sneered. "Are you a wizard, or not? Just make another bed and put it in another room."
Obviously.
"I already tried," Lockhart huffed, almost like he was pouting. Severus raised an eyebrow. "There must be charms against it in here."
"Have you considered the fact that you might just be severely incompetent?" Severus sneered. Lockhart furrowed his brow, stepping back a bit from Severus in offense.
"That was unnecessarily rude," he sniffed.
Severus scowled, deciding not to reply to that. He pulled his wand from his robes, striding over to one of the armchairs in the living room. There was more than enough seating space without it, anyway.
He raised his wand, recalling the spell for instances like this. The incantation fell easily from his lips, the twist of his wrist coming next. But, though he was more than adept at transfiguration, the armchair refused to change.
He frowned. Tried again—failed again. But there was no way he was wrong. He was never wrong.
He felt himself flush by the third try. The redness of his face would no doubt be terribly obvious to Lockhart, given how pale he was, and the thought of Lockhart seeing his embarrassment so clearly made him scowl.
He cleared his throat and turned his back to Lockhart, gazing out the window to the waves and swaying grass.
"There may be charms against that sort of spellwork, yes," he conceded.
"Just as I told you," Lockhart said petulantly.
Severus' scowl deepened.
"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more childish, you start with the I told you so," he muttered.
Lockhart made a small noise of disgust, but he didn't say anything more than that. Apparently he didn't deem it worthy of a response.
Severus heaved a frustrated sigh. His mind wandered—horribly, of course—to scenarios of sharing a bed with Lockhart. He nearly shivered. In no world would that end well.
"You'll have to sleep on the sofa," he said with a shake of his head.
Lockhart scoffed. "There is no way I'm sleeping on the sofa. I have a bad back."
Severus levelled him with a hard stare. He didn't believe that for one second.
"Lockhart, I've seen how you can fall asleep slumped over the faculty table during meetings."
Lockhart flushed prettily, sputtering out a response about how that indicates nothing, and how he really does have a bad back, and it's from the war, you see—but Severus cut him off.
"I don't want to hear it. You're sleeping on the sofa, got it?"
If looks could kill, Severus would've dropped dead right then and there. But luckily for him, looks couldn't kill, and he wasn't intimidated by Lockhart in the slightest. Only a coward would look at his charming smiles and sparkling blue eyes and be afraid.
Severus spun to go back into the kitchen and complete his search for a mug, but Lockhart stopped him.
"We should Floo Léo. He can get me a bed," Lockhart said. And he added, more quietly: "Or a different cottage."
Severus glared. "It's been two minutes since he left, Lockhart. I doubt he's even sat down properly by now."
Lockhart crossed his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw. He wasn't going to let this go.
"The sooner we deal with this, the better we'll get on," he argued, and Severus had to admit that he had a point.
"Your wisdom astounds me," he deadpanned. There was no need to admit that he thought Lockhart was right. The man's ego didn't need stroking.
"I always seek to astound you, Severus," Lockhart said. There was a note in his voice—a shift—that made Severus distinctly uncomfortable. He pursed his lips.
"Right. Well get on with it, then."
Lockhart's features smoothed—irritation falling from his face like water off a duck's back—and Severus watched as he located the Floo powder and Léo's contact information.
He knelt beside the fireplace, throwing a pinch of the powder in, speaking the address and poking his head into the fire.
He tried to focus on what Lockhart was saying, but his voice was muffled in the fireplace, and Severus had a hard time making out the words. Eventually, though, he realized it was because Lockhart was speaking in rapid French. He raised an eyebrow at that. He didn't know Lockhart could even speak French.
Lockhart pulled his head from the fire and looked over his shoulder at Severus. "Severus, come here. Léo is waiting on the other end."
He scowled at Lockhart ordering him over, but went anyway, kneeling as far from Lockhart as possible while still being able to see Léo in the fire.
"Ah. Severus," Léo greeted. He didn't seem very happy to see Severus, and Severus got the feeling that Léo hadn't actually been waiting for him. The lack of enthusiasm was reciprocated, Severus thought sourly. "What is the issue? Gilderoy said something is wrong with the cottage."
"There's only one room and one bed," Severus said flatly. Realization dawned on Léo's face, and he pulled a frown, thinking it over for a moment.
"Your applications were sent together and were for a single bed, so we assumed you were a couple. I am terribly sorry," he said apologetically. Severus flushed, irritation flaring—he was going to have to send a choice letter to Minerva later.
Léo continued: "I see the problem. Unfortunately, all our other cottages are full. There are the local hotels, but those are muggle, and further away. If you would like, I could send a shrinking bed through the Floo? It would only take a few hours to get one to the office."
Severus sighed deeply, resigned. If there was anything he could've possibly hated more than being stuck with Lockhart, it was becoming a burden.
"That won't be necessary," he sighed. Lockhart shot him an affronted look, opening his mouth to correct Severus. "I'll just take the sofa."
"Oh, Severus," Lockhart said softly, a small, gentle smile on his lips. "I'm touched."
Severus rolled his eyes. "It's not for you, so be quiet."
That was a lie. He could admit to himself that it was for Lockhart, and only Merlin knew why Severus was doing that when he knew he could fight for a bed. He supposed that it couldn't be too bad — at least it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with sleeping on the sofa, as it happened often after particularly long days.
His decision was also helped by the fact that he would never hear the end of it if he took the bed for himself.
"If you are sure…" Léo trailed off uncertainly.
Severus gave a firm nod and left the fireplace before Léo could reply, leaving Lockhart to chat away with him in French. He was most likely apologizing for Severus, but he found that he didn't really care.
He needed tea. And a headache potion. And to sleep the rest of the afternoon away. The sunlight and excessive exposure to Lockhart were beginning to get to him.
