Marcus's House, England – Night – July 3rd, 1975
POV: Severus
Severus was suspicious. Marcus had dragged him all the way to his house and, to make things worse, he had no idea where the hell he was.He sighed, resigned. He'd have to stay alert all night.
Marcus watched him from the stairs, easily guessing what Severus was thinking."Look, Severus. I know this is new and strange to you, but relax. I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm going to take a shower, and then you can take one. So, just relax—sit down or explore, whatever you want," he said with a shrug before heading upstairs.
Severus sighed. How was he supposed to explain this to his mother?His father would probably be delighted, calling it a blessing.With a resigned snort, he decided he wasn't going to sit there waiting for Marcus to come back. He turned around slowly and let curiosity guide him.
The first floor opened before him as a space of warm, dark wood.The living room was dominated by a stone fireplace where orange embers still crackled. In front of it, cracked leather sofas formed a cozy circle over a thick, faded rug. The walls were adorned with mounted deer and boar heads, and sets of antlers that gave the place a hunter's air—one that Severus found vaguely unsettling.
Behind the sofas, against a tall wall, stood a small library, its shelves crammed with dark-covered books and rolled parchments. Severus approached, running his fingers along the spines. They were titles about magical creatures, poisonous plants, and treatises on alchemy.Copies, not originals. Clever, he thought.
To his right, he noticed a small but practical kitchen—wooden countertops, a stone sink, utensils hanging from hooks, and glass bottles filled with herbs and spices. Everything was arranged for efficiency: nothing luxurious, but perfectly functional.
At the back, his gaze stopped at a half-open door. His pulse quickened as he approached. He pushed it open cautiously—and what he saw left him speechless.It was a small room, lit by a single bulb, with shelves filled with bottled potions, hand-labeled jars, and scribbled parchments. In the center, a large copper cauldron hung over a still-warm brazier.Jars of magical ingredients—from twisted roots to silver powders—filled the air with a thick scent of herbs and potion fumes.
Severus inhaled deeply. He recognized this kind of place: a potion laboratory—chaotic yet ordered—a sanctuary for those who sought answers in magic and alchemy.
For a moment, he forgot his discomfort. His eyes scanned every bottle, every book, every tool.The rain against the windows reminded him that he was trapped here…but, for the first time in hours, he didn't mind.
He leaned closer to read the labels: "Dragon Bone Powder." "Mandrake Extract." "Valerian Root."He licked his lips, focused. If Marcus dared to brew here… what secrets could he uncover?
The rain kept drumming on the roof, and without taking his eyes off the cauldron, Severus murmured,"Perhaps tonight won't be so bad after all."
Leaving the lab, he climbed the stairs. The second floor was simple—one bedroom, one office, and a bathroom, he guessed, since one door had a sign reading Office.Lost in thought, he suddenly heard a door to his right open.
Pure reflex made him turn his head. His gaze froze on Marcus.
The other emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and disheveled, a white towel loosely tied around his hips. Warm steam spilled out behind him like a faint mist, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.He wasn't muscular, but his body was firm—naturally defined, like someone who trained out of necessity rather than vanity. His shoulders were sharp but proportionate, and the muscles of his chest and abdomen, though not large, showed a lean, compact strength.Droplets of water slid down his pale skin, tracing the lines of his body.
Severus felt a strange warmth rise at the base of his neck and quickly looked away, clearing his throat."Just an ordinary body," he told himself—though the tightening in his stomach said otherwise.
Marcus arched a brow, wearing a lazy half-smile."Enjoying the tour, Snape?" he asked, relaxed and teasing.
Severus feigned indifference, crossing his arms and lifting his chin."I just got lost," he replied coolly, though the stiffness in his posture betrayed him.
Marcus chuckled lowly as he walked toward the stairs, leaving Severus with the image of his wet back and the muscles flexing as he moved."Well, try not to get too lost. Take a shower whenever you want—you smell like a wet dog," he added with a mocking grin."Oh, and don't worry, I'll lend you something to wear once I change."
With that, Marcus disappeared down the hall.
Severus stared after him for a moment, then shook his head slowly, suppressing the strange flutter in his stomach.Finally, he entered the bathroom. The door closed behind him, shutting out the sounds of the house.
The bathroom was large, practical, and classic—simple tiles, a wide shower with a slightly fogged glass door, a sink with a mirror, a toilet at the back, and a cabinet filled with towels and basic supplies.
Severus exhaled softly as he peeled off his soaked, worn clothes. Cold air brushed against his skin as he undressed, standing before the mirror.For a moment, he studied himself—his pale, lean body, the tension marks on his shoulders.He shook his head, as if to erase the lingering image of Marcus's wet back, the way his muscles had moved as he walked away.He growled under his breath and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him—rinsing away the mud, the exhaustion, and the uncomfortable thoughts that, for some reason, had followed him even here.