As unexpected as it may have been, Merlin easily managed to locate the caretaker of Hogwarts, a man — or as some people called him, a Squib — he had seen patrolling the grounds a couple of times. Argus Filch, a rather foul-tempered person, was a rheumatic man with hunched-shoulders and a hunchback. The worst part didn't even stop at that, his face was quite frankly horrible, pouchy and pasty, with bulging, pale eyes along with recessed, veined cheeks. He had long hair with a bald spot on the top of his head and quivering jowls — Merlin didn't know what to make of the man at first. For his first attempt of trying to be as polite as he could regulate, he tried with a simple greeting of; "Hello." Which was soon pursued by a burst of mumbled comments about him — most likely all of them being insults — before the cantankerous caretaker reluctantly tossed him the keys.
Merlin was thankful for the man at least acknowledging his question and answering it, if not a little testily. His cat, Mrs Norris as Filch had begrudgingly conceded to telling him, was to some degree, similar looking to her owner. With beady yellow, lamp-like eyes, and a scrawny, skeletal body and dust-coloured fur. Much to both of their surprises, — primarily Filch's — Mrs Norris did something that not even her owner would have expected. Her tail had furled up with her eyes becoming completely fixated on the warlock's own two, sweeping her way around his legs in graceful motions. If Merlin didn't know any better, he would've smiled and laughed, saying; "I think your cat likes me" which was eventually blurted out from his mouth without his consent.
He didn't even think of looking back at Filch for his permission as he absent-mindedly lowered a hand down to stroke her sleek, lustrous fur with his calloused hand. Feebly, he heard her purr in response, releasing a quiet meow once his hand trailed behind her ears gently. Filch starred in complete and utter disbelief as the two seemed to converse so deeply with each other, a distinct feeling of what could only be described as a betrayal showing on his face. Merlin gave a small, rough chuckle before gesturing for the cat to return back to her owner's side. It pained the caretaker when he noticed her hesitate for a moment when she looked back at the man dressed in black before replacing herself back by Filch's feet. He looked at her and gawked, the edges of his mouth twitching incredulity.
"Thank you," Merlin chimed, throwing the pasty man back into the present without giving him a chance to collect his thoughts up. "I guess I'll be seeing you around, yeah? Looking forward to it!" And with that, he took his leave up the staircases to leave the dungeons. In his own opinion, that was a fairly good first impression on one of the staff members, even if the man looked a little shaken by the overall experience. Maybe he was just his old age, he told himself, he knew how that felt.
Back in the dungeons, Filch simply looked back at his cat and frowned, furrowing his brows down deeply. "You don't show me that much affection." Mrs Norris meowed innocently before curling up against his scrawny legs. "Don't even try, you back-stabbing feline."
—
His chambers were more spacious than from what he was anticipating for; which was similar to that of a room the size of Hagrid's entire hut. But to his surprise, it was two times larger than that in comparison. He had his own study which was predicted to be there as he was now officially a professor — or, more accurately in his mind, a side-professor or assistant by Snape's standards — which meant that he would be lent sheets to either grade or go over in the course of the year. There were several bookshelves that were all meticulously lined up against the walls with countless old and newly printed books stacked vertically along with each other.
His bed was positioned on the far side of the room, adjacent from the window sill where the pallid sky of clouds was displayed like a large overhanging painting. Although Merlin favoured the appearance of the entirety of the room, it felt mundane and tedious, a feeling that he wasn't an entire fan of. Not to mention that there was a lack of colour in practically every proportion of the room, even the books. Now, he found himself yearning for the sugary scent of lavender and the rest of his scent-laced herbs. The forest may have been just out his window, but the trek through the castle grounds to reach it would be too time-consuming and his feet were already beginning to hurt just by standing up. It was already nearing sundown as well.
With a defeated sigh, he hunched back on the edge of his bland-coloured bed and stared longingly at the ceiling. A sinister and mischievous smile managed to crawl across his thin pursed lips as a cheeky idea came to mind. Nobody said that he couldn't use magic, did they? It wasn't like they explained any of the rules that would be applied to him. A little wandless magic never hurt, right?
As if he was debating with himself in a pretended argument, he humbly agreed with his own thoughts after coming to a conclusion before pushing himself off of the bed and rushing towards the slightly opened door. Discreetly and deadly quietly, he prodded his head out from the room and glanced down the hallways, surveying the premise for any signs of life. He simpered, looking half pleased with himself before pulling his head back into his chambers and shutting the door behind his back. Upon looking over the room for the third time again, he gripped the sides of his hips with both of his hands and grinned. I think this place needs a little life thrust into it.
—
Severus didn't know what to think of Evans. On one hand, he seemed to know the headmaster fairly well, maybe even better than he did — or at least that's what he could tell from their conversation when he was observing them in Dumbledore's office — though he thought that it was highly unlikely. He found the newly recruited professor fascinating in a way though, neither in a good or bad way. It was unusual enough that Fawkes supposedly knew the man before he even met the headmaster, but what he found incredibly more abnormal than a phoenix acting affectionate towards a man he's never seen before was the events with Mrs Norris.
That blasted cat never accepted someone so willingly or showed anyone — other than Filch, of course — any signs of affection or attachment. But by recalling the caretaker's word for word rant about how betrayed and unusual the whole experience was for him while occasionally glaring at his cat, Snape could surmise the affair very well in his head. Although, in truth, it was fairly difficult to imagine Mrs Norris voluntarily walking up to someone without trying to bite their feet off or any other limb for that matter.
Just a few minutes earlier, he had received a parchment from Dumbledore himself, requesting that he delivered Mr Evans — or, more specifically, Professor Evans — his timetable sheet for the incoming weeks of classes. Evidently, he had interrogated the old wizard for exactly why he wanted him to pass it on. After complaining like a child for a good half an hour or so, he ended up with the blunt response of; "Good luck, Severus." which only agitated him further as he hadn't gotten a proper answer out of the wizard.
He was planning on spending the rest of his evening in his own office, with a book in hand and a glass of nettle wine in the other. But no, of course not. Dumbledore had to come sending in a last-minute request for him to carry out, one that he couldn't refuse either. And so, here he was, striding down the upper halls with his cloak billowing out behind him as his greasy hair swept from side to side as the wind picked up from the windows. Now he knew why he always preferred the dungeons; there were no windows.
Out of the corner of his eye, something was shifting around in the last corridor. He paused and skidded across the floor, his cloak pushing past him before returning to his behind. Small clickings of footwork told him that someone was nearby, which only made him even more on edge. Mrs Norris emerged from the second corridor to the right, soft meows whispering past her whiskers as she surveyed the current area. Her eyes grew sharp as her ears perked up at the sudden ruffle of fabric that came further down from where she was, her pupils narrowing into thin slits with her tail puffing up.
Snape glowered at the dust-coloured cat before clicking his tongue, "And what business do you have here, nasty feline." He sneered. She gave a displeased hiss before coming out from the corner completely and pelting down the corridor in a flash, pushing her body against one of the doors before slipping through successfully. "Blasted cat," Snape clicked his tongue, soon pursuing after the wild animal like a dog without its leash.
He swept across the floors, spinning on his feet to face the wooden door before knocking impatiently. No response. Grinding his teeth together forcefully, he sighed before hovering his fist against the surface of the door again, this time stopping when a quaint sound bellowed from inside the room. He looked up to examine the seemingly new carvings engraved into the door just above him, the initials of the words being in exaggerated cursive writing.
'Mr Evans', it read. Severus gave a huff of laughter before quieting himself down to avoid any onlooking attention. Already making himself at home, he thought with a brief grin dancing across his lips. Thinking over it again, why on earth would Mrs Norris want to enter someone's chambers? Maybe she was looking to cause some of her own trouble — she was known for that by the students. In more ways than one, she was just like a teacher's pet.
"Oh, hang on!" Merlin could be heard scrambling around in his chambers, his voice being muffled due to the door blocking Snape's way. He raises a brow to the tip of his hairline, contemplating on whether or not he should just slide the new professor's timetable under the door or continue to vehemently bang on it until he makes a hole through it. In the end as a conclusion, he decided on the latter just to release some inner frustration that he had been holding in for a while. "For goodness sake!" Severus grinned, a clear image of his new assistant being completely frustrated with the overload of work fabricating in his mind. He could only guess that Mrs Norris was trying to ground out his eyes or bite off his toes.
After what seemed like the hundredth knock against the creaking door, it flew open at a moments notice before crashing against the inside walls of the chambers. Severus prodded his head through the room, loosening the grip of his jaw as it fell open without any signs of hesitation. What was once known to be one of the most mundane and dullest rooms in the castle had turned out to be one of the most vibrant and colourful places he'd ever seen. It even placed his potions classroom to shame compared to it. The archaic bookshelves that covered most of the walls of the room were now newly polished with freshly added books aligned across its shelves, each one perfectly straightened with their titles pointing out visibly.
Segments of lavender herbs and rosemary were hung along the walls like small decorations, their sweet scents deluging the vicinity effectively. There were even new untarnished counters that held a wide variety of trinkets and magical instruments — most of which included jewellery and exorbitant accessories — that were held against the stone walls. And there, standing in the middle of the deep red carpet with a cat being held between his arms with levitating novels and journals swirling around the two like a small orbit, was Merlin. Mr Evans.
Severus took notice of the broomsticks sweeping across the floors with dustpans collecting any small particles of dust or grime off of the floorboards before setting alight to their dirty work into conflagrant flames that dissipated into the air. Cleaning dusters brushed every crevice and crack there was in every corner, while two separate cleaning cloths were seen rubbing against the window with small squeaks in doing so. Each self-cleaning appliance had its own use and a mind of their own.
"Mr Evans," Snape cleared his throat loudly, thoroughly and dexterously bringing himself back to his words. The books that were spinning around the two came to an abrupt stop as they all toppled down in one go, lying prostrate across the floorboards. Mrs Norris hissed irritably at the bat-like male, Snape sneering at the feline in response as he held back a deliberately hurtful remark towards it. He almost flinched when the sound of brooms tumbling to the ground assaulted his ears, his head turning around to glare at them before directing his gaze back to Merlin, almost vehemently. Part of him questioned whether or not the young wizard did that just frighten him but simply shook his head in disapproval of it. Surely, he couldn't be that childish. "Your timetable, as you have foolishly forgotten it in the headmaster's office."
Merlin loosened his grasp around the cat before kneeling down and releasing her onto the ground, ambling his way from across the room and taking the piece of parchment from the professor's hand and spreading it out in front of him. Potions, DADA, Flying, Transfiguration, and Charms. Oddly specific, he'll admit. Potions, Transfiguration and Charms would be considerably easy for him — seeing as he was, and still kind of is, a physician and talented in magic itself. Charms were pretty self-explanatory, seeing as he did hold the title of "The Prince Of Enchanters". Flying on the other hand, well, he hoped that he could come up with an excuse for why he didn't particularly favour the subject. Fingers crossed that a broom doesn't blow up when he merely touches it. There was still one thing that seemed to bother him a bit though.
"Is DADA some sort of babysitting class or something? Because I don't think I saw this in my job description." He snickered with a broad grin attached to his face, showing the cold-blooded professor the paper before turning it back for him to examine more closely. Looking up again and — for some impossible reason — half expecting for at least a small smile or smirk, he was instead met with a deadpan look and a penetrating glare his way. His grin dropped as soon as his eyes made contact with his associate, dropping his head down apologetically. "Sorry."
Severus brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before sighing deeply and deflating, "No, Mr Evans. DADA stands for Defense Against The Dark Arts, hence the shortened name; DADA." He cocked an eyebrow, "And please, refer to the letters and not the conjoined word. For its own reasons, that I'm sure you are already aware of, it is deemed more appropriate and mature."
Merlin nodded gleefully, adding a fervent chuckle before planting his new timetable onto the counter nearest by him — which was in this case, acquainted by a box full of a variety of rings and bracelets inside with two pots of flowers alongside them. Snape glanced at them, surveying their appearance. The pot to the left was predominantly filed with freesia flowers that ranged from hot pink, scarlet, canary yellow and pure white. Meanwhile, lingering in the other opposite one was what seemed to appear like an entire bush of fern plants that had small narrow fronds curling down around the edges. What took him by surprise was the lone Lilly that sat in the middle of it, almost hiding away.
Perturbed by his colleague's sudden interest in his chambers interior, Merlin waved a hand in front of his face — not too close or for too long, as he was still anxious whether or not the professor would reach up and grab his hand before twisting it. There was no reaction, for his eyes were still fixated on the flower that sat in the middle of the fern bush. Abruptly, he stretched a hand out before scooping it into the messy bush and cupping the flower in his hands, gingerly raising it from its hiding spot. Lilly. He thought. A Lilly, out of all things.
"An odd combination if I may, Mr Evans." He said, flicking his head up and narrowing his eyes. "Very odd."
Merlin gave a soft smile, "You make it sound like you have a connection between the blossom, a reminder for you, is it?" He held back a chuckle at the predicted reaction that was shown across the usual scornful man, picking a pearly white freesia from the bunch besides him before twirling the stem of it between his index finger and thumb gently. "You aren't the only one, Severus." His expression turned dejected, the colour almost seeming to drain from his face as he remained focused on the flower at hand. Promptly, he held the flower up with a gentle smile sprouting across his lips. "Love is like a flower, you know? It blooms wonderfully when you find it, but closes if you lose it. Sometimes, I like to think that there's still this small part of it that stays open like there's still a chance to get that love back. It could be from the same person, or from someone else."
Snape eases his expression, somewhat compassionate and understanding in his words — if that was at all possible. A serene blanket of silence settled over them, Snape being the first to reclaim his ability of speech once he realised that his errand was completed. "You're quite eccentric, aren't you?" He remarked cunningly. "Quaint, but, I'll confess; interesting."
"It's one of my finest qualities and talents," he quipped back with an exaggerated shrug. For only a fraction of a second, he could have sworn that he had spotted a small glimpse of the professor genuinely grinning at his self-deprecating jest before composing himself properly. Merlin didn't know whether he should have felt honoured or accomplished by the fact that he just made one of the most stubborn people he's known throughout his lifetime — of course, including Uther Pendragon obviously — willingly smile. Sure, it was just a mere grin, but it felt as if he had just won a trophy. Internally, he was hoping he'd be able to have an entire stash of them on display, each and every one of them gleaming as brilliantly as his smile would. If only the man had the bravery of pulling on such an expression.
