Grooming
For @colubrina, @shayalonnie, @paper-lily and anyone else who seemed to give in to the shudders at the mere idea of Snapedore/Alverus
Because I can’t resist a challenge on occasion...And it’s Wednesday. And now, before I delete this whole thing...
NOTE: Nothing explicit happens. BUT this not what I’d call a healthy thing. I really just need to, I don’t know, get back to Genghis Khan or something with more fresh air...
Albus steepled his fingers before his nose and studied the young man in his office. It was something of a secret appointment—sure to titillate Albus even at his best—and as such every sense was operating fully. The scent of Severus’s personal grooming potions—rosemary and marjoram, likely to offset the pervasive odors of any potioneer’s lot in life—and just the heady offering of a man, any young man, in need and in a subservient position.
He smiled a little, to encourage the lad. Young man. That. “I think we can be of service to one another,” he said quietly, confidently. “You can be safe with me. Here at Hogwarts.”
Severus cocked his head a little, rubbing one hand over his inner left arm. “Headmaster—”
“Call me Albus, Severus. We’ll be colleagues, after all.” Another smile, to invite confidentiality. “I have faith that we will do well, together.”
Severus’s dark eyes widened briefly. “Indeed? But sir, Albus, I—”
Albus leaned forward, taking one of Severus’s hands briefly in his own. Establishing comfort in physical contact was important. Gellert had taught him that much. “You’ve already done us a great service, Severus. We’ll do our best for you.”
A flare of vulnerability in the younger man’s eyes let Albus know he was on the right path.
“Come, my boy,” Albus murmured, gathering up Severus’s bleeding body in his arms with a strength belied by age and mere physicality. “I’ll get you to a safe house, yes? We’ll set you to rights.”
Severus shuddered in his arms due to the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse. “Albussss. It wasssss, dreadful. I told them only what . . . we agreed.” One of his black eyes was bloodshot, but the intelligence behind the look was intact. “And what you said to me.”
“It’s still true, my boy. My regard for you remains unchanged. Now, hold on.” Albus focused on his cabin at the River Esk. Its privacy was paramount just now. They Apparated away, he and Severus, to come bursting back into existence ten yards from the cabin’s main door. “Here we are.” Severus whimpered and Albus smiled into his face. “You’re safe, now.”
Within the cottage, the elder wizard set about disrobing his young friend, down to his undergarments. Albus was quite glad for his own robes, for it would not do to distract young Severus from healing. Speaking soothing words, letting his hands linger just a little, here and there, Albus set about healing Severus’s body, warming here, cooling there. Dittany was unavoidable, but he did his best to make it quick.
“Oh, Albus, thank you,” the young man murmured, his body relaxed on the only bed in the cabin. “So much better.” He gripped Albus’s hand as he drifted off to sleep.
A dark gleam in his eye, Albus shed his own robes and Levitated them to a hook on the wall. Primitive, perhaps, but for all his enjoyment of glittering garments, the Headmaster was a pragmatist at heart. The Greater Good required Great Planning and Sacrifice. He believed himself due a Great Good of his own, after all he’d done and in light of all he would do.
So he muttered, just in case Severus had any level of alertness, “Well, there’s but the one bed,” and he slid in next to the younger wizard, diving into the sleeping, damaged psyche of the talented young Potions Master, and making a home for himself, there.
When Severus awoke, some hours later, he was oddly comforted to know he was not alone and nothing in his questioning, angry nature thought to protest. For how could he? Albus Dumbledore was doing his best and Severus had no one else to turn to.
He steeled himself to the circumstances, reflected that a same-sex relationship would be far preferable to the Cruciatus without aftercare, and sighed a little. “Good morning, Albus,” he whispered.
“Ah, Severus, my boy.” A pause. “Are you?”
“I am.”