A Matter of Time
It certainly was not the sort of thing he was used to. He had, of course, had years of practice to learn how to surprise one of his parents. Planning birthdays, choosing Christmas gifts, he had learnt all of these things, although unnatural to him, from a very young age. But he had always got help from either his mum or dad, and that was something he had had to do without this time. Thankfully, he was an organized, resourceful man, with a heavy notebook containing all sorts of notes about them, ways to please them, situations to avoid. It was not very spontaneous, he supposed, but at least it had avoided him many false steps. And he was rather pleased with himself.
"I cannot believe you are behind all of this, Severus", Pomona whispered. "You are such a proud Slytherin."
He shrugged his shoulders. "It was unavoidable", he said casually. "But I must say, red really does not suit this room very well…"
His former colleague – for now Severus worked as a full time Potion maker – nodded vigorously.
"I agree. Yellow would have been a far more sensible choice".
She grinned, but still gave him an affectionate look.
Minerva and Albus had been married for 40 years. And they were old now, so old, as they had had a life before that already. Severus hoped they would feel young again just for the night, as the entirety of the staff was ready to celebrate. There was beautiful decoration, all very much gold and burgundy red; scented candles, delightful food, presents from many people he had not met. He had to say, he would have much preferred if they had whished for a quiet celebration instead. But his father was overly social, and his mother was adamant they had to celebrate with their colleagues, so here he was, feeling very much like an intruder, but excited like a small child.
First he heard Minerva's exclamation of joy. She looked absolutely delighted, and immediately turned to her son. She hugged him – he had become accustomed to public displays of affection now – and his father smiled to him warmly. They were happy. When Filius started to play the music they danced. They did it slowly, carefully, but with much confidence, and Albus was looking right into his wife's eyes, who herself was gazing at him, despite all the years and hardships and fights, like she had gazed at him the day they were married. This was perfect love. It was, because none of them were ready to compromise, and both knew exactly what they wanted; they had built a solid relationship, one of trust and honesty that many envied them, and would, as long as they were together, always look right into each other's eyes.
Severus stayed back. He was happy to watch and simply drink some wine, as he could keep his feelings for himself, and just smile when they looked in his direction. He was thinking of many things. He was wondering how things would be now if he had not had the chance to be adopted by the two of them – he wondered if they would have had a child of their own, and if he had contributed to their happy marriage. Those were old thoughts, but for some reason, it was nearly pleasing to go over them again. It was distracting him from a strange sensation in his chest. He watched them waltzing, stop for a few minutes, catch their breath, laugh; for a few seconds he was anxious they would not get onto the dancefloor again.
When had his mother's hair become so white, as white as his father's? She looked so small, she was so small, much smaller than she had ever been. And Severus stood, stunned. He could not say if something was different, but all felt different. He wondered if anyone else could feel it, could smell it, but no one was paying attention, they were speaking loudly – his mother, after some wine, always spoke with a pronounced Scottish accent, and he should have smiled at this, but he could only think of her hair, and the thousand winkles on his father's face.
His parents came to sit beside him, exhausted, enthusiastic, still giggling.
"That is a magnificent evening, Severus", Minerva said, "thank you so much. I hope you are not too ashamed of us, we put on quite a show…"
"He is used to it, Minerva dear", Albus replied, his eyes twinkling. "It is indeed a wonderful party, Severus… a perfect one… what is the occasion?"
Minerva put down her glass. Severus turned over slowly, so he could face his father, have a look at him, a proper one – there was genuine surprise there, and he felt his heart drop.
"Albus…", Minerva said slowly. "Our 40th anniversary, of course!"
The headmaster blinked. Then he shook his head, and smiled.
"Naturally! Did we – we must dance, my dear, to celebrate!"
But Severus could not get his eyes off his trembling hands. The strong, loving hands that suddenly appeared so frail; confused, shaking hands warning him of what was to come.