Minerva/Severus -- 21: Friends
At long last, Minerva put down her quill and stretched, pushing away the last of the marked essays with a sigh. It really was a miracle she’d finished, at this rate.
She could scarcely recall being so distracted-she had never felt so strongly inclined to do something, anything, but sit and finish her work. Stranger still, the feeling only intensified as she filed away the parchments and glanced at the clock on her desk. Half past ten. Not terribly late, but not terribly early, either. Perhaps a long hot bath, then.
It was one of her occasional indulgences, but still oddly lacking. The hot water failed to soothe her spirits as it normally did; she rushed through her routine, brushing out her long black hair quickly, barely pausing to glance at her reflection. There was no point, really. She was well aware of her appearance. Younger than her years, certainly, but by no means beautiful. She averted her eyes and did her hair up in a plait, rushing from the room in search of her dressing gown.
As she finally settled down with her book, however, she regretted her decision of an early bath; she found herself turning pages without a clue as to what they contained. After ten minutes, she could bear it no longer, and huffed in irritation.
What she really needed was a good long conversation, or a game of chess, or…something. As long as it involved someone else. But it was past eleven; Poppy would be busy, Pomona would be in bed, Albus would certainly be in either of those states…but…
No. No, it was insanity. He never answered his door, for starters, nor would he be pleased to see her on the off chance that he did; they weren’t especially friendly. In fact, he wasn’t exactly pleasant. He frequently expressed his wish to be left alone, and she was all too ready to oblige. Still...he was tolerable enough, and despite their differences, he did seem genuinely interested in what she had to say-if only to use them as an attack against her later. But to show up unannounced at his door, in about the least professional piece of clothing she owned?
Madness.
She’d best bring a peace offering.
~*-*-*~
So it was that she stood, shivering slightly in the damp air, cradling a miserable cup of tea close outside her colleague’s quarters. To her utter astonishment, the door swung open after a few seconds, revealing his thin frame and stern features.
“What?”
Minerva held up the tea. “We missed you in the staff room after dinner,” she said lamely, staring back into Severus’s aggravated face. He seemed tired and harassed; regardless, he stood back and gestured her inside.
“Somehow, I doubt it,” he muttered, “but come in, if you wish.” It was apparently the end of his unusual courtesy; he crossed his sitting room in several long strides and flopped gracelessly onto his sofa. Minerva raised an eyebrow and followed, setting down the tea and seating herself with rather more poise.
“Is there a particular reason for your rather late visit?” said Severus grumpily.
“Kindness doesn’t cost anything. But if you’re going to be out of sorts, I can leave,” Minerva said, eyeing him warily as she conjured a teacup for herself.
He sighed, his disagreeable mood suddenly evaporated. “No. I’m sorry.”
Well. How strange. “Something wrong, Severus?” she said in amazement. Come to think of it, he did look rather more melancholy than usual; his eyes were tired and troubled as he stared into the small fire. But…an apology instead of a sneer? Clearly, his mind was elsewhere.
“No.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
With that, he fell back into silence. Minerva sighed and sipped at her tea. How she could have thought this was a good idea…arbitrarily visiting him, of all people… She did not know him half as well as she should have, though she was still better acquainted with him than most. Enough to know that there would be no stimulating discussions when he was this distracted, at any rate.
“Minerva, you were once married, is that correct?” he asked abruptly.
She nearly spat out her tea in shock. “Why, I-yes, I was, Severus. Why?”
“No reason.” He went back to gazing into his fire, but now that her curiosity was aroused, Minerva was not going to let his unusual inquiry go.
“Considering it yourself?” she teased gently, hoping to provoke him into speaking. He responded with a very dirty look, though she noticed there was the barest hint of colour to his cheeks that was not usually present. Interesting.
“Really, Severus, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone I’d know?”
He glared at her from between his curtains of long black hair. “It’s not like that, you infuriating woman-I just-” He hesitated. “Was-after he died-was it difficult for you to-that is, did you ever consider-loving someone-again?”
Minerva’s heart sank; she had a vague idea of where this was going, and she didn’t wish that pain and confusion on him for anything. She had long suspected that he had harboured feelings for Lily Evans-Potter; most of the boys in their year had, at some point. And why not? She was an attractive, lively girl, and certainly had been one of Severus’s closest friends for several years. Of course he was quite closed to the topic, but it was hardly impossible…and if he had, by some miracle, acquired feelings for another…
Apparently some of her thoughts had shown on her face, for Severus turned away again.
“Forget it.”
“No, Severus, I-”
“Forget it.”
Minerva sighed. Another rare chance for a glimpse into his life, wasted. Suddenly angry with herself, she spoke up again, defiant.
“I would never be opposed to it,” she said, watching him carefully; despite his languid posture, she could tell he was listening intently. “Eamon died over twenty years ago, Severus. That’s a long time. I will never forget him entirely, of course, but loving another wouldn’t be an insult to his memory. If-if it had been me who died, I know I would want him to be happy, if he could, with someone else.”
“Really?” An eyebrow was raised in scepticism; Severus seemed, at last, to have recovered some of his irritability.
“Of course,” replied Minerva. “Human beings are social creatures, Severus. We’re not meant to spend life alone. That’s why it’s-well, not easy-but if things don’t work out the first time, we can…move on, after a while.”
“’Time heals all wounds,’ then?” he said disparagingly, looking somewhat disappointed in her.
“Yes,” she said. “It does. Oh, it can’t erase memories,” she added quickly, a wry smile tugging at her lips at Severus’s disbelieving snort. “I daresay you need a bit of magic for that. But it can heal enough.”
Severus said nothing. The lines on his face were deepened by a frown as he gazed once more at the hearth, thinking. Minerva sipped her tea again and let him, unwilling to break the strange spell of civility between them. He had, for whatever reason, shown such remarkable trust in her-trust she knew he did not give easily. But the nature of his inquiry…it was almost as if…
No. It was none of her business. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.
But satisfaction brought him back-and she certainly hadn’t used up all of her lives yet.
“So-what are you going to do about this woman of yours?” she asked brusquely.
The sharp glare he turned on her nearly made her regret her assumption. “It’s not like that,” he repeated through gritted teeth. Minerva had just enough time to wonder whether she should have dropped it when he suddenly laughed, very bitterly.
“Even if it was, who’d want this?” he said, gesturing vaguely to himself. “I don’t even have any friends, let alone someone who’d regard me as-something more.”
“You sell yourself short,” said Minerva, scrutinizing him closely. He wasn’t half bad, really; true, he was paler and thinner than one usually considered attractive, his hair was always in various states of neglect, and his personality made a chimera look cuddly, but still…
“Really, Severus, you have more friends than you realise,” she continued, uncomfortably aware that she had been staring at him for longer than was polite. “Albus trusts you with his life-you know that. Pomona and Poppy have always thought highly of you; Filius, as well, of course,” she added, and then, in the mood to be honest, “and I am proud to call you a friend, Severus, whatever you may think of me.”
He blinked. It was hard to tell whether he was more astonished by her admission, or that she had been able to list off names so quickly, but Minerva had to smile slightly: Rendering him speechless was not something one managed every day. It was a perfect time to press her advantage.
“So-now that’s settled-what are you going to do about this woman?”
She waited in silence as Severus gave her a very long, hard look; either he was going to admit it to her, or he was not, and that would be the end of it. She had certainly pried enough, more than she had ever dared with him before, and had found a little more of the man he kept hidden behind his controlled exterior. But the idea that perhaps he trusted her was oddly enticing, and she found herself hoping that his strange, reflective mood would persist just a bit longer.
“I don’t know,” said Severus quietly. All traces of suspicion and coolness had vanished from his face, leaving him looking unusually old and tired. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Suddenly very tired herself, Minerva could not help the stirrings of compassion that mingled with her pride at being considered trustworthy. “Then don’t worry about it now,” she said calmly, getting to her feet. “Sleep on it. Really, Severus, you look exhausted,” she added. “Incidentally, do you know this woman, or is she a relative stranger? It might help you figure out how to go about it, you know.”
“She’s a friend, I think,” Severus said after a slight pause, and walked her to the door. “Goodnight, Minerva.”
“Goodnight,” she agreed. Somehow, knowing he would rest easier rendered the term more appropriate. The thought made her smile again.
“And, Severus?”
“Hmm?”
“Good luck.”
And with that, the door closed on his astounded face.