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August, 1991
Several years of constant exposure had done nothing for Severus’s longing heart. He had believed that seeing the man almost every day would help his treacherous organ to settle, to stop it from fluttering whenever he got close enough to feel the magic emanating from the man, or to prevent his head from turning every time he spotted a glint of silver in the periphery of his vision.
He would swear it had a completely opposite effect.
The only upside that he could think of were his Occlumency shields. They were the strongest he had ever recalled them being. It was the result of him constantly keeping up his guard, he supposed. He couldn’t fail. If Albus ever discovered how deeply affected Severus was by him…
He couldn’t handle the rejection. Of course, he fully realised that Albus would be gentle about it; that wasn’t the issue. His concern arose from the pitying looks he would surely be the recipient of, the grandfatherly approach, and Severus’s inevitable mortification. And then the familiar look of pity would once again prevail every time their gazes locked.
Severus couldn’t bear that.
So he occluded, he hid, and presented a front that worked better than a Muggle Expulsion Ward—no one noticed, therefore, no rumours and no pitying glances would follow.
He only wished his body would stop reacting to the elder man, because the way he acted around Albus, like a sunflower following the sun, was simply pathetic.
“Ah, Severus, there you are.”
Severus was proud to say that his body froze only for a fraction of a second these days—a significant decrease compared to the beginning. The fight or flight response had been easily triggered as he kept waiting for Albus to turn on him and hand him over to Azkaban. Although these reflexes no longer kicked in, at least not to the same extent.
“Yes, Headmaster?”
Albus replied with amusement that Severus didn’t share. “How many times have I asked you to call me Albus when we’re alone?”
Severus watched his bright blue eyes twinkle and reinforced his mental shields. This was one request that he had refused to indulge. If he bridged that distance, he would shatter. Raising an eyebrow instead, he waited for Albus to continue.
“Very well. I was wondering if you might help me sift through the candidates for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?”
“Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”
He noticed the change in Albus’s expression, but bit his tongue to stop himself from apologising. Albus had made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t give Severus the position. As difficult as it was to find a Defence teacher, it was even harder to fill the position of a Potions master. The first and only time Severus suggested Slughorn, Albus insisted that he’d hire that man only in times of great need.
Severus might have suggested that he would need to do it if he had resigned, but they both knew he would never follow through. Apart from being grateful to the elder man, Severus was certain there was a curse placed on the position. He’d mentioned it once, offhandedly. And Albus’s expression told him that he might have been right. But instead of delving further into the situation, Severus changed the topic. His heart chose to interpret that as Albus caring for his well-being, and as skilled as he was, he found he had no defence against that.
“We have been over this countless times, Severus.”
God, even his name sounded like a caress. “Very well. Now?”
Perhaps burying his head in the applications of incompetent idiots would help him redirect his thoughts away from Albus. Doubtful, but he was willing to try anything at this point.
“Lemon drop?” Albus asked once they relocated to his office, pouring them both a cup of tea and calling for biscuits from the kitchens. Severus sighed. There were times he wished he could shove those drops up his—
“Well, you can always have one later. Now, surprisingly, I have received more applications than I’m accustomed to.”
Severus raised both eyebrows at the big pile of files. “Didn’t you mention that you scarcely have three to choose from?”
“Yes. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a correlation with young Harry Potter becoming a student this year.”
Severus’s blood ran cold. “Are you asking me to sift through dozens of fanmail?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that dire.”
“Not that dire?” Severus spat, picking up a random application from the pile. “Listen to this and tell me if it’s not that dire. ‘I got EE on my DADA NEWTs—’ I don’t think I have to stress that they couldn’t even bother to spell out the words, ‘to teach new students regardless of their background. I don’t care if they’re Purebloods or Muggleborns—’ now I’m certain this ‘g’ was originally a ‘d’, ‘and I would give everyone the same fair treatment, even if they were Harry Potter himself.’” He looked pointedly at Albus, who seemed to be enjoying himself.
“I concede that perhaps this particular applicant is ill-fitted to teach in general.”
“Ill-fitted is a mild word. Not to mention, he could benefit from further expanding his vocabulary. Who—” His eyes snapped to the top of the form. “Ah. Barnaby Willis. Abysmal at Potions. Slytherin. It would explain his emphasis on the student’s background. Why don’t I start sorting these… applicants into the rejection pile?”
“I knew your help would be invaluable.”
Severus made the mistake of looking at him. It almost seemed as though the elder man was observing him with a fond look. Mentally shaking himself out of the thought, Severus took a sip of his tea. It irked him that Albus had managed to prepare it just the way he preferred. One less thing he could complain about.
Despite understanding that he had an excuse to spend the day with Albus without any elaborate preparations in advance, Severus still favoured efficiency. He snatched Albus’s file and began to sort through it. One pile contained names he hadn’t heard of, while the second consisted of rejected candidates. Either he had taught those people or attended Hogwarts with them. Not a single competent person.
“One pile for you, the other for me?” Albus asked, but Severus could hear the mirth in his voice.
“No,” he replied evenly and put the larger pile on top of Willis’s application.
“Ah.”
He expected Albus to take a look at who hadn’t made it through Severus’s strict conditions, but he waited patiently until Severus gave him half of what remained. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump forming in his throat at the gesture of trust.
He cleared his throat when it turned out to be a futile endeavour. “These are all the unfamiliar names. Hopefully, there will be a suitable replacement among them.”
Albus hummed, and Severus’s toes curled. Perhaps spending the whole day with the object of his affection wasn’t such a grand idea.
Out of the four remaining applications, two of them mentioned the words ‘Harry Potter’ and Severus knew that he shouldn’t give into the blood boiling in his veins at the sight of that name, as it wasn’t professional. But he kept reminding himself that whoever had applied for the sake of teaching that brat shouldn’t be accepted in any case. They would be too starstruck, too biased.
The other two remaining were incapable fools with no valid credentials.
When he finally put the last paper onto the rejected pile, he realised that Albus had done the same.
“One would assume,” Albus began, “that with more applicants than there usually are, there would be at least one suitable enough for the position.”
Huffing, he replied, “One would assume that with as many students as we seem to have each year, at least one would be competent enough.”
Albus chuckled sweetly, and Severus had to avert his face from the sight. The laughter made the man’s face look extremely handsome, which was counterproductive to Severus’s survival methods. He couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through his body at the fact that he was the reason for Albus’s happiness—at least in that moment.
“Perhaps, I’ll take Quirinus up on his offer.”
Severus’s face snapped back. “I beg your pardon?”
Albus’s finger twitched. “He reached out to me a week ago. After his return from Albania, he expressed his interest in the position.”
Leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers together, Severus narrowed his eyes. “That seems to be a huge leap from Muggle Studies.”
Albus nodded, and Severus gained the impression that his mentor suspected something else was in play. “Especially considering that I had long believed Voldemort to be hiding there.”
Severus shivered. “Surely, you don’t expect—”
“I don’t know, Severus. Nothing for certain, at least. However, it is highly suspicious, notwithstanding the timing of the proposal.”
“Potter,” Severus breathed.
“Yes, I worry, Severus. I worry we have run out of time.”
“Then I shall go at once.” He rose from his seat. “We require all the information we—”
“No, I shall not lose you.”
All the carefully crafted arguments forming in his mind were swept away just like that, leaving him feeling torn. Realising he was still standing foolishly, he retook his seat. He was no coward, though; he had to prove that…
“Albus, I—”
“No, Severus, and that’s final. I shall take Quirrell up on his offer. We need to keep an eye on him.”
“And by we, you mean me.”
“Severus,” the elder man said sternly, “Firstly, I refuse to lose you based on a whimsical suspicion, and secondly, you are amongst the most competent people I know. You will be, and already are, my greatest asset. Please,” he added, dispersing any lingering thoughts of argument that Severus had entertained, “I need you.”
I need you. Severus nodded, unable to meet Albus’s gaze. When he stood to go, he realised the words were only a parody of his own desperate feelings. Severus needed Albus more than the man could ever come to know.
“Young Harry has discovered the Mirror of Erised.”
“And how is that any of my concern precisely?”
Albus sighed. “He spent an inordinate amount of time before it—”
“Likely watching himself become the king of the—”
“Severus.” Albus’s tone had taken on a stern edge lately. Severus believed it only helped him stay sharp and focused, preventing him from acting like an obsessive, infatuated adolescent. “Your perception of that boy is marred by your experience with his father. He is dead. Both his parents are. They cannot affect him, or you, for that matter, not anymore. Harry is a sweet, young boy, and if you weren’t so blinded by your hatred towards the deceased, you would see it as well.”
Ever since Potter came into his life, he had been scolded by Albus more often than usual. His bitterness had returned; his mentor was once again favouring a Potter. Never him. He wasn’t nearly as interesting, wealthy, or powerful enough for Albus to see him as anything other than a tool.
“Why have you asked me here, then? Not for a lesson in Potter’s family history, I dare hope.”
“No,” he replied, “I need to relocate this Mirror, so that it doesn’t lure any more stray students. I was wondering if you might be willing to assist me.”
Severus looked at the object in question. “What do you need me to do?” He wanted to get this over with so that he could disappear to lick his wounds in private.
“Nothing too taxing, I hope. The spellwork is delicate, and it requires a grounding of some sort. I expect the Mirror to push back against my magic, and I was hoping you could assist me in making it more… pliant.”
A shiver passed through Severus’s body. There was one other thing he knew of that could achieve such results. Getting his mind out of the gutter, as was his wont lately, he asked, “Were you planning on using the Yielding Charm, or did you have something more specific in mind?”
“No, that will be more than sufficient.”
Severus nodded, both of them approaching the Mirror, Severus careful in ensuring he did not get a proper glimpse at his own reflection.
“You’re afraid of what you’ll see,” Albus remarked in a surprised tone.
Straightening his back, Severus retorted, “Hardly.”
“Feel free to look.”
“No.”
He knew with absolute certainty what he’d see. He wouldn’t be able to stop looking, going mad with longing, at the sheer need that the reflection would evoke in him. No. He was safe, for now.
To his astonishment, Albus didn’t push.
They worked together seamlessly. Severus watched the elder man perform another brilliant, delicate work of magic, his heartbeat quickening, his breathing coming in short pants, his magic giving way for Albus’s to do what he intended.
Once done, Severus’s chest rose and fell more distinctly, but he didn’t think Albus would make anything of it.
“You can look now.”
“What will I see?”
“I trust you will only see yourself as you are now.”
Severus doubted that. “Why don’t you look?”
Chuckling softly, Albus said, “Because I would have to start over again.”
Taking a deep breath, Severus stood in front of the mirror, expecting to see… hoping he’d see—
“I only see myself.” He stepped closer in disbelief. Was he standing too far? “I don’t see—” he cut himself off just in time. “What did you do?” He could even hear the awe in his voice.
What took him slightly aback was the proud look in Albus’s eyes. With his Occlumency shields fully raised, he fought against the mental images his mind conjured, forcing them behind his barrier, alongside the desire that seemed to have increased in proximity to the man’s power.
“I’ve created the last obstacle to complete what you and the other teachers had contributed to. That is all I shall say on the matter.”
Severus offered his help with moving the object as well, but was firmly rejected. He tried not to take it personally, especially when Albus could have asked anyone from the staff, including Minerva. Sighing, he decided it was time to open his Christmas present to see if that would distract him from his broken heart.
September, 1992
“Do you believe me now?” Severus barked when the door closed behind Minerva as she led Potter and Weasley away, escaping punishment altogether. “He’s such an arrogant brat. And don’t you dare tell me otherwise!” He raised his voice, forestalling Albus’s arguments. “His father would have pulled the same stunt and been proud of that, as well!”
“Exactly, Severus,” Albus said calmly, completely taking the wind out of Severus’s sails. “James would have been proud of it. Harry realised he had made a mistake. I believe his claim that the barrier at the station wouldn’t let him through. I just can’t put my finger on what is really happening yet.”
“You believe him!”
“Yes, Severus, I do. He has not lied to me once.”
“He’s lying all the time!”
Shaking his head, Albus said evenly, “No, he’s not. The only time he bends the truth is to protect someone else. Much like someone I know.” His eyes twinkled, and Severus wanted to kill him.
“Do not,” he spat, “compare me to that… that boy! We are nothing alike!”
It was with sadness that Albus replied, “You have more in common than you think, dear boy.”
Dear boy. Severus hated that term with passion. He was not dear to Albus; how dare he imply otherwise?
“And once again, another Potter is left unscathed after committing a catastrophic blunder.”
For once, he was glad that Albus wasn’t denying anything. He was quite sure that he would lose any respect he had for the elder man otherwise. Understanding that Albus was not making light of the situation, Severus deflated.
“Firewhiskey?” he offered absentmindedly.
“I would welcome a drink, thank you.”
Hiding his surprise, he fetched two glasses and poured them both a generous amount. Raising their glasses in silent salute, they each took a sip. Severus closed his eyes as he tipped his head back, letting the liquid slide down his throat without much effort. When he opened them again, he stilled, his body freezing under the intensity of the bespectacled blue eyes, the moment charged for a reason he couldn’t name.
He was held under Albus’s natural charm, his breathing laboured as he slowly drowned in those bright pools. His heart reacted instantly, racing in his chest. He jerked slightly the instant a bolt of desire shot through his body and quickly looked away in shame. Taking a much larger sip, he focused on hiding his reactions as he attempted to calm himself. He was in his office, sitting across from Albus, half-hard.
And to think the year had only just begun.
“Something tells me,” Albus began, as if Severus had imagined the charged silence altogether, “that this year might be as eventful as the last. I would, once again, like to implore your help.”
Severus nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak. There weren’t many things he wouldn’t do for Albus, and he was sure the man knew.
August, 1993
“Have you gone mad!” Severus shouted, clinging desperately to his last shred of rationale. “Black has escaped, something that I feel doesn’t concern you as much as it should, and you decided to hire Lupin, of all people?”
He seethed, pacing furiously, walking a dent in Albus’s office.
“After the past two years, have you perhaps become addicted to adrenaline? What were you thinking? How can you allow a werewolf among children!”
The man calmly replied, “I have full confidence in your abilities, Severus.”
“And what about him, eh? Do you trust him to follow my instructions? To drink a goblet of the most foul-tasting potion ever made, only barely surpassed by Polyjuice Potion? Do you trust him to take it?”
Unfazed, Albus held his gaze. “I trust in your abilities, Severus.”
“No! This is mental! The children’s safety is at risk!”
Albus sighed and steepled his fingers. “Please, take a seat.”
But Severus remained standing stubbornly.
“If you want to hear my reasoning, you will sit down, Severus.”
Severus may have been stubborn, but his curiosity won out in the end. Not to mention that being initiated into the plan of the greatest wizard of all time really stroked his ego. Naturally, Severus would prefer a different kind of stroking, but that was neither here nor there.
“I’m listening.”
“It was not a decision made lightly.” Severus huffed, but otherwise stayed silent. “Sirius Black being on the loose poses a grave danger to Harry. Remus Lupin is still his friend. If the worst came to pass, I was hoping that Remus’s presence at the castle would play into Black’s remorse. He is still a human despite the treacheries he has committed, and while he has indulged James on many occasions in the past, Remus has always ensured that they would regret pulling such stunts afterwards. Black doesn’t know about Voldemort; being cut off from the outside world, as it were. Everyone believes that Voldemort is dead. Remus could easily be our final tipping point.”
Severus sighed, putting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. Why did it make sense? Why did Albus have to think of everything? When would Severus learn not to question him?
“I see,” he said at last, leaning back in his seat.
“I understand that I am asking a lot from you. You already have a busy schedule, and the Wolsbane Potion will take further time off your hands. If there is anything I can do to make this easier on you, Severus, just name your price.”
There was only one thing Severus wanted; however, that was something that could not be bargained for. He would always know it would be fake, never willingly given. He had promised himself a long time ago that joining the Death Eaters would be the only low point in his bleak life.
“There’s nothing. I’ll do it.”
He rose from his seat to leave, intending to lick his wounds in private, so to speak.
“Are you certain?”
Severus stopped in his tracks, which had been a mistake. “Of course.”
“Then why did you pause?”
“A mistake, I shall never repeat again. Good day, Headmaster.”
He pulled the handle, but the door wouldn’t open.
“You called me Albus once.”
“I assure you, I did not. Open the door.”
“When you were so eager to retake your role as a spy. You were always quick to please me, Severus, but now you’re fighting tooth and nail, hoping I won’t notice. I wonder why that is.”
“Headmaster, kindly open the door for me.”
He heard footsteps, but he wouldn’t turn around—couldn’t, really. His body and his heart were at war with his mind. He had always prided himself on following logic, as feelings invariably led people to self-destruction. It was two against one. The only reason logic seemed to prevail was due to his utter stubbornness.
His body began shaking the moment Albus pressed against him from behind. His warm hand settled over Severus’s on the doorknob, pinning him against the door, preventing him from moving, let alone escaping. His body instinctively took over, his heart hammering in his chest so loudly that he could barely hear his own harsh breathing. His mind took a step back.
“Say please.”
Severus moaned softly as he exhaled. He couldn’t. The moment he would open his mouth, he’d start begging. He shook his head, his knuckles turning white.
“You’re so beautiful when you fight me.”
His breath hitched. He wanted to lean back, wanted to surrender, but he couldn’t. This was too good to be true. There had to be a catch, some kind of misunderstanding—anything that would make sense to Severus and explain Albus’s approach.
No one wanted him.
That thought grounded him.
He took a shaky breath. “I’ll brew the potion,” he whispered, shivering as the beard tickled his cheeks. “Don’t ask me for more.” His voice was stronger, firmer now. “Now open the bloody door before I use Bombarda on it.”
The moment he felt the doorknob twist and the body that had pressed so closely against him leave, coldness seeped into his bones, deep and chilling. He had never exited a room faster.
January, 1994
“Severus, there you are.”
He turned in his seat, raising an inquisitive eyebrow in Minerva’s direction. Whatever it was, it had to be better than marking first-year essays. Then he noticed the broomstick she was carrying, and his mood worsened. Other than that.
“I’m sure that between Filius, yourself, and the Headmaster, you got this more than covered, Minerva.”
He returned to his marking.
“You have been more insufferable than usual this year. You can’t tell me that it’s Remus’s presence, I’m not stupid, my friend,” she said, sitting down opposite him, putting Potter’s broomstick on the table but out of his reach.
“But you are nosy. Haven’t you ever heard the saying curiosity killed the cat?” He sneered, happy to unleash his foul mood on someone.
“Oh, I don’t think so… wait, no, I have heard it, now that I recall… about a thousand times before,” she deadpanned. “You are usually more witty than this. Are you all right?”
Was she really worried, or was he a charity case to her? He no longer knew. He would never guess that Albus—
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Denial is a first step to acceptance.”
“Acceptance of what?” he spat. “The impossible? Please.”
She frowned. “This isn’t about Remus.”
He threw down the quill impatiently. “Of course it’s not about fucking Lupin! My world doesn’t revolve around him, you know!”
“But it does revolve around someone,” she ventured softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this heartbroken before.”
“Just leave the broomstick here, I’ll take care of it.”
“Severus…”
“Leave me bloody alone, woman!”
He shot up from his seat and left the Teacher’s Lounge. She was teaching the next period; he would come to collect his things later.
By the time he made it to the dungeons, he found the stack of essays he’d been marking and the broomstick sitting on his desk. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a small note next to it.
I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m here if you want to talk.
He crumpled the note in his fist and threw it into the burning fireplace, watching it turn to ash in satisfaction. He was undesirable, only useful as a tool. Didn’t they realise that he was a human being?
How could he ever look Albus in the eye again?
Grabbing the broomstick, Severus exhausted himself on it. He was sure that most of the spells he had tried had already been cast by all of his colleagues, but he had to shift his energy elsewhere, and this was as good a distraction as any. It was already past dinnertime by the time he was finished. It was surprising and more than a little alarming to discover that the broomstick had been untouched by any sort of dark magic.
He decided to walk to Minerva’s office to get what little exercise he could, and cast a disillusionment charm on the broomstick when he suddenly realised that he had to apologise. Their friendship was real. He wouldn’t let Albus, or anyone for that matter, destroy the only good thing in his life.
“May I come in?” he asked after knocking on the door to her office.
“Severus! Of course, please take a seat. Tea?”
“Please.”
He put the broomstick on her desk and accepted the cup as he sat down.
“Have you found anything?” she asked, her head gesturing towards the broomstick.
“No. And I performed all the spells and charms I could think of.”
Minerva nodded. “As have I, and Filius. I’m sure Albus had done the same.”
At the mention of the Headmaster’s name, Severus’s stomach did a somersault, twisting uncomfortably, his pulse quickening.
“Well, I don’t suppose we will discover anything new. I had better return the broomstick to Mr Potter, so that he can gain an unfair advantage in the upcoming match.”
Severus heard the teasing, and normally, he would have risen to the banter, but now… he just didn’t have it in him. “I’m sure.”
He felt her touch his hand and had to wonder for a moment whether he was completely failing at simply existing, if he no longer managed to function like a regular human being. If he looked just as miserable on the outside as he felt on the inside.
“Would you be able to do me a favour, Severus?” she asked kindly.
It was confirmed; he must have been failing hard. “What do you need, Minerva?” he sighed, no longer pretending.
“Oh, nothing too dire, I assure you.”
Something in her tone instantly put him on alert. He couldn’t muster enough energy to care, however. “All right, what is it?”
“Together with the portrait of the Fat Lady, Argus restored a couple of other paintings for the school. I was wondering if you perhaps wanted a change of scenery and would like a portrait for your chambers, rather than having to lock it yourself each time?”
He considered her question. “Relying on a whimsical piece of art?”
She patted his hand, rousing a slight irritation in him. He wasn’t a small child who needed minding! He was quite capable of taking care of himself. Perhaps not in the exact moment, but the sentiment was there.
“Come regardless. You can properly berate me later.”
Well, that was a prospect one couldn’t refuse. He sighed theatrically. “Lead the way.”
They reached a landing with a couple of unused classrooms. Minerva opened the door to one, ushering him in. Severus expected a dusty room, but the space was in pristine condition—well, as pristine as any other maintained space in the castle—and the portraits were all hidden under white linen. Severus counted about a dozen pieces.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
“So if I do end up choosing a portrait, I can just take it with me?”
She smirked. “Yes, I’ll clear it with Argus on my way down.”
Minerva was almost at the door when Severus said softly, “Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for, Severus.”
She left shortly after, leaving him standing there, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to do. Somehow, he expected Minerva to know if he didn’t at least have a look, so he resigned himself to his fate and started from left to right.
He’d push aside the cover, conversing briefly with the painting before rudely shutting them off each time. Too nice, too beautiful, too perfect, too sweet, too talkative; he found himself rejecting them one after another for the tiniest inconvenience or irritation. If he was supposed to get along with the portrait, he needed someone who wouldn’t get on his nerves in a matter of seconds.
Raising the linen of the last one, he froze, his heart hammering a thousand beats a second, his knees going weak. He was mesmerised by the beauty he saw, by the twinkling blue eyes, by the young features, by how stunning the man looked.
“Well, hello there,” the portrait said.
“Hello,” he whispered back.
“Are you not going to start questioning me like the others?”
How was it possible that the blue eyes twinkled so madly, even within the portrait? How skilled must the painter have been?
“I… er…”
“For someone as sharp-minded as you appear to be, you seem rather disconcerted. Am I perhaps familiar to you?”
Severus shook out of his daze. “Yes. You’re the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Have been for quite some time now.”
The painting hummed. “And yet, it doesn’t seem to be respect that makes you so… hesitant.”
Averting his face, Severus cleared his throat. “I do respect you. You are the greatest wizard of all time.” He cringed. The last thing he needed was to sound like a teenager with an enormous crush.
“Why don’t you throw the cover aside… yes, like that, and step away so I can look at you properly. What’s your name, darling?”
His cheeks burned as he took a couple of steps back, forcing himself to hold young Albus Dumbledore’s gaze. “Severus Snape,” he whispered.
“You’re quite lovely. I adore a strong, blushing man. You are very obedient, too. Tell me, are we perhaps in a relationship?”
Severus stuttered. “No! Of course not!”
“Of course not,” the portrait repeated, smiling fondly. “How old am I? I have to be at least eighty or ninety, I understand why you wouldn’t—”
“You don’t know anything!” Severus shouted, his eyes wide. Despite his own deep wound, he would never let anyone talk unflatteringly about Albus—not even Albus himself. “I don’t care how old you are, you’re still—” he bit his tongue. This was still Albus Dumbledore. Even as a painting, he could still cause damage to Severus’s fragile heart.
Portrait-Albus stopped smiling. “I apologise, I didn’t mean to distress you.”
“For fuck’s sake, I wish you’d stop pitying me.”
“I don’t,” said the portrait seriously. “Tell me, young Severus, how long have you been in love with me?”
Staring into the blue eyes of the portrait was no less dangerous than facing the real deal. “Ever since I was your student,” he answered defiantly.
“And I did nothing?” Portrait-Albus replied, genuinely perplexed.
“It’s not… not that easy.” Severus uncuffed his left sleeve and rolled it to his elbow. “I have chosen to follow a dark wizard, not unlike Gellert Grindelwald.”
“Ah.” The portrait’s eyes narrowed. “I seem to have employed you regardless.”
“You hand out second chances without much thought,” Severus spat, shaking the sleeve back down and redoing the cuff.
Portrait-Albus laughed, and Severus had possibly fallen in love again. “You are quick to judge others, yet you reap the benefits for yourself.”
“You used me,” Severus stated plainly, “I did not ask for this. For any of this.”
“Except you are still here, talking to me, still so obedient. Perhaps you are not in love with me as I thought. Perhaps you are only drawn to power, and you see a kindred soul in me.”
Severus hadn’t heard such revulsion since the night he came begging to Dumbledore. He had genuinely forgotten how ashamed he felt that night, but it had returned now, tenfold, because he was still the same pathetic soul, undeserving of love.
Closing his eyes to hide the pain, he took a deep breath, having half a mind to burn the portrait, knowing he never could.
He deserved this. All the condescension, the ruthless truth spilling from the lips he so longed to kiss. His knees finally gave out, and he fell to the floor, clutching his robes desperately.
“Then punish me,” he whispered, “Please.”
“No.”
Severus’s insides froze. The answer hadn’t come from the portrait, but from behind him. It had been a long time since he felt such fear.
The sudden touch to his shoulder jolted him into movement. He fell sideways, immediately rolling onto his back, trying to crawl backwards away from the formidable man. He stopped when Albus crouched down before him, as though Severus was a scared, wild animal.
“Will you forgive me, Severus?” Albus’s tone was gentle, and there was no pity that Severus could detect.
“What for?” he whispered, afraid his voice wouldn’t cooperate.
“For misjudging the situation. I have been aware of your infatuation for quite some time, I have to admit, and I believed it was simply that—an infatuation. I didn’t see anything wrong in encouraging such feelings, believing it would only ensure your faith in me, and therefore, my trust in you. Can you forgive an old, sentimental fool for failing to recognise love at such an old age?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I have never expected you to return my feelings,” Severus answered in a low, soft voice.
“And therein lies the problem, Severus. Our history is complicated. Your decisions have not always been the best, but neither have mine. I have never believed I could ever love anyone again after Gellert. He had been led astray, and I saw the toll that the dark path had taken on him. I begged him to reconsider if he loved me as much as he claimed, but he never gave up on his ideals and just like that, it was over between us. And then you came along.” Albus moved close to him, so close that he was able to touch him now. “I watched you follow the same path Gellert did. And I knew you were lost. Imagine my surprise when you turned your back on Voldemort. Of course, I didn’t believe you. Experience spoke clearly. But you were devastated by Lily’s death, and I understood that your love for her had returned you to the right path. I believed you had simply exchanged one powerful master for another.”
Albus looked at his portrait and smiled before holding Severus’s gaze again. “I have noticed you were more agitated than usual and assumed that had I satisfied your thirst for carnal desire, things would have returned to the way they were. Hence, my ill-timed and, frankly, poorly executed seduction.” He held up his hand to forestall any of Severus’s protests. “But seeing you now, broken in front of my old portrait, I realised that I have seen this devastation once before—when Lily Potter died. I hadn’t realised your feelings for me ran so deeply.”
Severus looked away, unable to bear the honest intensity of those blue eyes. “As I said before, I don’t expect anything from you.”
“The question remains whether you’d welcome it regardless.”
“What,” Severus spat angrily, “a pity fuck? No, thank you, Headmaster.”
But Albus smiled. “Were we to fuck, as you put it, I would have no mercy, least of all pity.” Severus shivered from the suggestive words, his heart hammering in his chest once again, his cock getting half-hard. “I only worry that my time is coming to an end. The last thing I want, Severus, is to hurt you more than you already are.”
“I don’t care,” Severus said, leaning into the palm cupping his face. “Please. I’ll take anything. Anything you’re willing to give me.”
“Come,” Albus said, extending his hand for Severus to take.
He had no idea where they were going or what Albus had planned, but this wasn’t the time to question the man. Getting to his feet, Severus noticed the linen jumping to life to cover the painting, but he didn’t care. He was following Albus to his office, past the portraits of former headmasters, into his private chambers.
Albus pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. “You’re shaking, Severus. Have you reconsidered, perhaps?”
“No,” he croaked, clearing his throat. “No, I simply never expected—”
Smiling, Albus tilted his head and leaned down to kiss him.
Severus’s world tilted before being turned upside down. He swayed in Albus’s embrace, allowing the elder man to grip him tightly so the world would stop spinning as their kiss deepened. Severus couldn’t believe that after decades of pining, he had finally got his kiss…
“Careful, Severus.”
He felt drugged. He needed the man close, needed him like air. He would die if he didn’t have him.
“Please,” he breathed.
“Why don’t you lie down on the bed, naked?”
Severus’s breath hitched before his brain registered the request, and he waved his wand over himself, his clothes folding themselves neatly on the nearby chair as he went to lie down in the centre of the bed.
He then watched Albus disrobe meticulously, blushing at his own eagerness.
“You really are beautiful when you blush so endearingly.”
Severus wanted to disappear. Suddenly, he felt shy and desperately tried to look for something to cover himself with.
“No, none of that now.”
Now, Albus was naked as well, and Severus lost all thought of propriety. The man was only semi-hard, but Severus felt his mouth water at the sight. Frozen in place, he was pushed onto his back as Albus settled on top of him. Desire and arousal gripping his body, Severus arched against him, moaning loudly to his complete mortification.
“You are utterly sinful, dear boy.”
That was all the warning he received before the man’s lips descended on him again. He felt Albus’s beard all the way to his cock, and he couldn’t bear the pleasure coursing through him as he spread his legs to allow Albus access.
“Is that what you want, Severus? I’m afraid it’s been some time for me; I am not certain about my stamina.”
Severus huffed, his hands roaming over the slender body. Caressing the elder man’s back, his hands slid down to Albus’s arse, grabbing a handful.
“I can ride you if you get tired.”
“What a lovely image. Turn around, please.”
Manoeuvring himself to lie on his stomach, Severus automatically parted his legs. Albus wasted no time, spread his legs even further and simply… dived in.
Severus gave a surprised shout, pushing his arse back onto that sinful tongue inside him, groaning and begging. Never before had he felt such pleasure, or even imagined anything close to this magnitude. He was utterly shameless, clawing at the sheets; the need was so great he couldn’t think properly.
“Magnificent.”
Slumping back onto the mattress, Severus lay sprawled there in a boneless heap. There was something he wanted to say; he was sure of it. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what, and simply ground his pelvis down, seeking friction.
He heard a smacking noise, then a pop, the smell of lavender permeating the air.
“Wha’,” he croaked, unable to speak.
Albus chuckled behind him. “Arch your back, darling, push that lovely behind towards me.”
Severus moaned weakly, desperate, not knowing what to expect. So when he felt a finger at his entrance, slick with something viscous, he stilled, holding his breath. The finger slid inside him easily, as though it was coming home, and he quivered. It began to move, gently, unhurriedly, and he whimpered as his body melted, his arse pushing back to meet it.
“So responsive, Severus,” Albus crooned, and Severus soared under the praise.
When a second finger joined the first, he cried out weakly. The pleasure was intense, yet it was not enough to scratch the itch.
“I haven’t hurt you, have I?”
“No,” he choked, “I was just… caught off guard…”
“I should have asked,” Albus said softly, “Have you ever done this, Severus?”
He stilled, tensing around the two fingers, moaning as he impaled himself on them further, swallowing them more. “No,” he admitted. “I haven’t,” he whimpered as Albus began moving them again, “haven’t really done much of anything.”
“Oh, Severus.”
There was no pity in his voice, no judgment, only concern. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from adding another finger.
“Press against them,” came the gentle instruction, and Severus did as he was told, the fingers sliding wonderfully easily inside him.
Severus felt he was going crazy.
“Please,” he whimpered. He tried to fight the burning inferno raging within him, but Albus was so careful, so tender, so slow, that Severus figured begging should help speed things along.
“Ah, yes, yes. I’d forgotten how eager the youth can be.”
He would have chuckled if he weren’t so strung up. Then he felt Albus position himself behind him, his arse was caressed once again, his cheeks parted. Before he could find it in himself to feel embarrassed again, there was something blunt nudging at his entrance, and he whined, almost coming at the thought of what they were about to do.
He was impaled then, without mercy, and yet the turgid length was gently and steadily pushing inside him. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, believing he would pass out. He felt Albus’s hips press fully against his arse, finally buried to the hilt, and he slumped, breathing heavily through the slight burn.
He felt so full, and he loved every single second of it.
“Are you all right, darling?” Albus’s voice caressed his ear, and Severus turned blindly towards the sound, seeking the man’s mouth.
Albus indulged him, their tongues entwining, as the man settled on his elbows above him. Severus pushed against him and eagerly swallowed the gasp the elder man let out.
The hunger returned. Severus squeezed around the hard erection inside him, prompting Albus to move. He got his wish. Albus started slowly, his thrusts measured, as if he were enjoying the heat of Severus’s body. And wasn’t that a wonderful thought? If the elder man was to be believed, Severus was the first person he had been physically intimate with in a long time, and he felt honoured.
“You’re so big,” Severus whined, his breath immediately hitching at the words that had just left his mouth.What a stupid thing to say!
Albus pressed a kiss to his neck, murmuring, “Thank you. You fit around me nicely.”
He was then gripped tightly as Albus rolled them onto their sides, his shaft still firmly buried inside Severus. Having lost the friction he needed, Severus shifted to grab his cock, but his hand was firmly pushed away.
“You don’t want this over too quickly, do you?”
“No,” he moaned.
“Good boy, Severus.”
To his surprise, delight, and utter mortification—he was extremely vocal in his appreciation—Albus began to fuck him in earnest. The elder man had a surprisingly firm grip on his thigh, holding onto it while effectively spreading his legs. Severus was helplessly locked in position, marvelling at the soft grunts in his ear, at the low groans that escaped Albus—all because of him.
Severus had no idea how long they were fucking, or making love; it was all in Albus’s hands. The elder man was playing with his body as if he were more familiar with it than Severus was. All the talk about stamina, or its lack thereof, or Severus’s worries that he would tire the man out too much… he would have chuckled had he the air for it. As it was, he could only cry out loudly, clench around Albus, and hope they could go on forever.
But as he had learned at a very young age, nothing good lasted long. Albus’s grunts became more forceful, his thrusts harder, and Severus found it too arousing to last. His orgasm hit him suddenly, and he came untouched, shouting, as spray after spray of come hit Albus’s bedsheets.
“Severus,” the elder man almost growled, making Severus’s hair stand up on end, enjoying the way Albus stilled, pressing him close as he spurted inside his body—Severus committed all of it to memory, never wanting to forget.
When the cock inside him softened, Severus moved, turning in Albus’s embrace, and kissing him desperately, passionately, as if he would never get another chance at this, at them.
Albus pulled back after a while. “Are you all right? Have I hurt you?”
“No,” he replied genuinely, “no, you were magnificent.”
“A high praise, indeed.” The man’s blue eyes were twinkling madly. “I have to say that while I did expect you to let go, I didn’t believe you were capable of such abandon.”
“Should I apologise?” Even he could hear the uncertainty in his tone.
“Don’t you dare.” Albus winked at him, and he grinned, still feeling bashful.
As he settled into the crook of Albus’s arm, he felt content for the first time in decades. He couldn’t care less about Black or Lupin, or about the Dark Lord’s threat looming over him, or what awaited him after everything would be set in motion. Because here, at Albus’s side, time stood still, and the outside world could not touch him. He would savour every second spent with this considerate man, because each time he did, life felt just a little kinder to him.