Rosemary by inell

Rosemary

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“Bloody hell.”

The harshly spoken curse broke the silence in the classroom. Searching through his cabinet, Severus muttered curses under his breath. There had been a jar of rosemary on the second shelf earlier that day when he had checked the ingredients for the potion he planned to brew that evening. Now there was nothing more than an empty spot. He checked each shelf, his methodical arranging of ingredients confirmed on every other shelf save for the one with the rosemary.

Turning away from the cabinet, he stalked to his desk, his mind rapidly thinking about each class that day and the few instances that he had not been in the room. The cabinet was always locked, though he knew that enterprising and determined students could swipe things during their classes but he had not had the cabinet open during his classes with Gryffindor and Slytherin, the likely suspects for stolen supplies.

With an annoyed growl, he retrieved his cloak and left his classroom. He had to have rosemary to complete the potion, which meant an unexpected visit to the Herbology class. There was extra rosemary in the supply area last time he had visited for ingredients. As he stormed down the hall, looking even more foul mannered than normal, he looked for students in which to deduct points. If he was forced to go outside in the midst of winter, he could at least make others suffer. Unfortunately, tonight seemed to be the only time the halls were quiet.

He was so intent on catching someone that he failed to notice the object in his path until his foot landed. With a startled grunt, he found himself falling backwards. He landed on the floor with an oomph, his scowl growing even more pronounced when he saw the glass beads rolling on the floor. He scooped them up and put them in his pocket, determined to find the owner so that he could issue several detentions and take away points for carelessness and injuring a teacher. It was probably deliberate, he decided crossly. After all, he was the only one who normally walked the halls of the dungeons at this hour. It did not matter that it appeared to have been some sort of bauble or necklace that had probably broken during the school day, he was convinced it was intentional.

By the time he made it outside to the greenhouse, he would have caused Longbottom to pee his pants and Potter to hold his wand ready for attack. His arse hurt, he loathed the cold and snow, and his potion was sitting on his desk unmade while he was forced to hunt for the missing ingredient. After unlocking the greenhouse, he went to where Sprout kept the rosemary. Eyes narrowed in dismay when he saw a shelf empty save for a scroll of parchment. “I’ll kill them,” he vowed, having no idea who he was going to kill but positive he would find out and curse them for their torment of him.

Checking the scroll for any signs of magic, he then picked it up and unrolled it. It was a map. Frowning as he stared at the parchment, he noticed how precise and specific the details were, recognizing the handwriting after staring at it for a moment. “The bloody bastard.” As he held the map, it began to glow, a bright dot appearing near his right thumb. Determined to locate the rosemary thief, Severus leaves the greenhouse and goes back to the castle. Following the map, he eventually finds himself in a rarely used portion of the third floor standing in front of a portrait.

“Ahem,” he finally cleared his throat, glaring at the silly woman who was more intent on her knitting than allowing him inside.

“Password?” the woman asked without looking up from the scarf she was working on.

“Password?” he repeated rudely, preparing to let his anger and annoyance out at the portrait since it would appear no other would face his wrath. He had just opened his mouth to begin expressing his displeasure when the portrait swung open.

Entering the room, he saw fairy lights blinking, candles lit, and a scene of seduction out of some silly witch’s romance book. He would have assumed this was meant for one of the foolish twits he taught if not for the presence of the jar of rosemary in the center of the bed. Looking around suspiciously, he waited for the bastard to announce himself and most likely have a laugh at his expense. When he saw no sign of anyone, he quickly moved to the bed to retrieve the ingredient so he could return to the dungeon and his potion. As he picked up the jar, he heard the sound of the portrait closing.

“Lupin!”

“Severus, it is nice to see that even in pleasant circumstances you manage to retain that perfect sneer,” Remus said amicably as he shrugged off his robe, displaying his nude body beneath.

“Pleasant?” Severus growled, refusing to be distracted by the way the candlelight gleamed on the pale flesh before him. “I have been forced to search throughout the castle for my rosemary for the past hour, enduring slipping on those silly baubles, the frigid cold, and the dust of this dreadful part of the castle. How is that pleasant? And what is the meaning of this ridiculous seduction….”

His words were caught by thin lips, a tongue tracing his own lips before sliding into his mouth. He considered pulling away and continuing his tirade, not at all pleased that Lupin had sent him on such a chase for his own ingredients, but it was difficult to be angry when he was being snogged so thoroughly. The jar fell to the floor as his hand moved behind the shorter wizard’s neck, any protest long gone as he deepened the kiss. His foot kicked the jar of rosemary beneath the bed as he was pushed backwards. When he felt a warm hand drift down his stomach, he decided that the potion could wait.

The End