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It was appalling how long you and Severus had managed to thwart her, Fillius, and Dumbledore’s bet. Professor McGonagall sat in the staff lounge, grumbling at the seeming lack of progress. They had made the bet nearly a year ago and it didn’t seem like it would ever officially meet its crescendo. The bet was about you and a certain Potion’s professor. She had seen the way the two of you had looked at one another when you both met for the first time, the way intrigue shined in both of your eyes despite initially remaining to yourselves. Filius had to practically orchestrate your first interaction, “accidentally” requesting both of your help to control a room whose furniture had “mysteriously come to life” and couldn’t be controlled with just the wizard’s magic alone.
Since then, your interactions have blossomed from collegial to friendly to…whatever the hell was going on between you. Love. Or at least that’s what the Transfiguration teacher could hope for. It was an understatement to say that the two of you were arguably closer to one another than anyone else. However, the way you were closer to Severus made her think that it was love more than it was friendship.
Severus didn’t let anyone touch him. Anyone. The man could barely stand casual touch; a hand on the shoulder, a nudge with the elbow, and yet, the liberty had been granted to you. And the man didn’t shy away from it either. But it went beyond such little touches unbeknownst to Minerva. There had been a few instances where you had given him scalp massages. Imagine, the Potion’s master let someone touch his hair.
Outside of touches, the two of you could also be seen at each other’s side; sitting at meals, walking through Hogsmeade, the castle corridors, and lounging in the staff room. Just talking. Or reading in silence. And when the two of you talked, he would smile.
He would smile for Merlin’s sake!
And then there was that one time when she had walked down to the Potion’s classroom in need of a sleeping draught from Severus.
She had pushed open the door only to be met with the sight of you and Severus hovering over a boiling cauldron, the both of you shifting your weight unsteadily and gripping the edge of the table, both smelling of firewhiskey.
“Are you two quite well?” she questioned urgently.
Severus had pressed his lips together, while you had burst into a fit of snorting giggles. “Mhm! Yep, we're alllllll good heeeeere,” you smiled, stumbling back onto a stool and patting your legs happily. “We maybe had a bit to drink.”
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Severus. “Really, drinking and brewing?”
“I’m no less smart drunk than I am sober, Minerva. I have all my facilities, though I can’t say the same for Y/N,” he sneered teasingly at you.
You blew a raspberry at him, prompting him to grab the nearby potions textbook and bopping you on the head. In response, you had made an attempt to shove him, but the force of the push pushed you back on the stool rather than having an impact on the man. The stool began to fall backward and as you tried to steady yourself, Severus shot a hand out and grabbed your arm, tugging you back to him and holding you against his side.
“Quit messing around, you insufferable girl.”
She was baffled to no end.
***
“Ravenclaw.”
“Slytherin.”
“Ravenclaw.”
“Slytherin.”
Both of your bickering interrupted Minerva’s reminiscing as the door to the teachers’ lounge opened.
“What are you arguing about now?” she quipped.
“We’re debating on what house me and Severus’s hypothetical child would be.”
Fillius, who had been drinking tea on the chair opposite of Minerva began to choke as Minerva herself stumbled over her words in nonpluss. “Wh- I beg your pardon?!”
“Hypothetical child, Minerva,” Severus emphasized with a roll of his eyes, following you to the cabinet to grab his preferred flavored tea. Fillius and Minerva met each other’s gaze, both thinking the same thing: Are these two really that oblivious?
Finally, the annual Yule Ball had come and Dumbledore decided to take matters into his own hands. The conniving man had arranged for both of you to have chaperoning duties at the same time. In accordance with the rules, both of you had dressed up in formal attire, but neither of you had any intention of actually dancing with the other, especially in front of the students.
No matter how much the both of you had wanted.
“But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?” you thought to yourself, inches from your partner in crime, who kept his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the students on the dance floor. He was your best friend. He probably didn’t see you as anything else. Surely if he did, he’d have made a move or dropped hints, right?
Severus was enduring the same turmoil, resisting the urge to place a hand on your waist and guide you to somewhere more private. You looked exceptionally beautiful, more beautiful than you did every day you saw each other. You were his closest friend and he didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that he was wrong. He thought he had given you enough indication about his feelings towards you, though they were rather indirect. Or maybe you just didn’t see him that way, and therefore didn’t consider them to be hints…
“Severus. Y/N,” the Headmaster greeted. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I believe I saw some students taking to carousing in the courtyard. Could you two handle that? I can watch those dancing in your place.”
“Of course, Headmaster,” Severus nodded and you followed after the professor in black who swept out the Great Hall.
But there were no students out there. It was an outright lie. He just wanted to get the two of you alone without any students’ eyes on you. The man counted down from two minutes in his head before quietly slipping out of the Great Hall himself. He paused outside of the doorway to the courtyard, casually peering out toward the stone fountain. The two of you were talking, the quietude of your conversation deaf on his ears as he watched the both of you trying to calm your nerves, Severus gripping his wrist hard behind his back, you playing with your fingers in front of your stomach.
But both your thoughts were loud, and Dumbledore could hear you and Severus cursing the headmaster for setting up a situation where the both of you were alone, bathed in moonlight with music drifting out through the windows of the Great Hall, neither of you wanting to take the plunge.
“Ask her to dance, Severus,” Dumbledore mentally sent to Severus.
Severus stiffened, refusing to whip his head toward the doorway of the courtyard.
“Go. Away,” Severus thought back harshly.
“I will when you ask her to dance. She obviously wants to.”
Dumbledore felt Severus block their mental connection as a few seconds later the Potions professor slowly brought his hands down to his side, one curling nervously into a fist, the other he offered hesitantly to you, mouthing something at the same time. Dumbledore watched as a soft smile grew on your lips and you nodded fervently.
Dumbledore stepped back out of sight, smiling to himself in satisfaction as he went to converse with a nearby painting as he waited. Some minutes passed before the two of you reentered the castle, your lipstick lightly stamped on one of Severus’s cheeks and slightly smeared on his own mouth.
“Well, it’s about time,” Dumbledore remarked, not just referring to the amount of time you both spent outside.
The both of you blushed the same shade of your lipstick. “Shut up,” you both muttered, as Severus grabbed your hand and tugged you close to him, the both of you sweeping away to the dungeons. Dumbledore just chuckled, turning on his heel and returning to his colleagues in the Great Hall.
He had winnings to collect.