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Potter could never sit still before the war. You couldn’t tell that by looking at the young man now who half sits, half lays on Severus’ sofa unseeing eyes boring into a book in his lap. While the unnecessary ever-present movement was seen by Severus as an annoying interruption to his routine at best and an expression of blatant disrespect to others around him at worst, this is somehow even more uncomfortable. The way Potter’s limbs stay stiff despite the relaxed pose, how quiet he is except for his regular shallow breathing. It’s like Potter isn’t even there. For some reason, it unnerves Severus greatly. Enough for him to sigh and place the essays he's been marking down.
“Care to tell me, why miss Weasley keeps sending me dirty looks at breakfast?” Potter blinks at him owlishly before bursting into full-body laughter which stops just as abruptly as it started. Potter puts the book down and turns to him fully.
“Notice that did you?” he asks and without any input from Severus continues, “that’s of course because she thinks I’m cheating on her with you.”
Severus gapes at him but Potter seems completely serious, lips slightly pursed because he too must find such an accusation rather ridiculous.
“Are you?” he asks anyway. A corner of Potter’s lips curls upwards.
“I think you would know if we were fucking, Snape.”
Severus sputters and sends him a scandalized look although he suspects its’ effect may be undermined by the unbecoming rusty red that overtakes his cheeks. He hates it. Blushing was meant for beautiful young people, the ones’ not beaten by their drunk fathers and praised by dark lords, innocents, not broken old men, that have lost all purpose after the war.
“Language,” he reminds him even if it sounds hollow to his own ears, “you know that’s not what I meant.”
“You can hardly have an affair in absence of a relationship,” Potter says softly and heads for the door with an obligatory “would you look at the time”.
And Severus wants to say something, to ask if Potter is devastated by the end of his and the youngest Weasley’s relationship. But then he isn’t exactly the type of person that the young heroes of the wizarding worlds turn to for comfort. A time charm rings sparing him the dilemma, maybe Potter is better with time than he is.
“Snape,” he says turning to face him once more from the door, “you of all people know that I am recklessly loyal to those I choose.” And he leaves. Severus knows that in five minutes he’ll be able to wander off into his potions’ lab and find three stellar potions, but for now he groans and lays his head on the cold desk.
A loop of “I think you would know if we were fucking, Snape.” repeats mercilessly in his head and he hates how he doesn’t find the notion ridiculous or disgusting at all.