— You stood in the doorway of Severus’s potions lab, arms crossed and a proud smile tugging at your lips. The clutter of his ingredients, bottles, and ancient tomes had always seemed so chaotic to you. You loved him, but there was no denying his “method” left a lot to be desired. Sure, he could find anything he needed in his chaos, but you couldn’t stand it. You could never understand how he managed to work in such a disorganized space. So, when you had the chance this morning — when he’d gone to tend something— you’d decided to fix it. Tidy up a little. Reorganize. Give him a surprise when he came back.

The task hadn’t been easy. It had taken hours to carefully sort through the rows of potion ingredients, to move jars and vials around so they were neatly ordered. You made sure to label everything you could and set it in a way that, at least to you, made perfect sense. It wasn’t too much — just a little effort to make his work space more efficient, more organized, something that could give him more time to focus on brewing rather than hunting for the right ingredient.

You stepped back, surveying the room. It looked much cleaner, more orderly. You were sure he’d appreciate it. After all, he’d never have done it himself. The lab was his fortress, his sanctuary, and if he ever asked you to organize it, you would’ve done it precisely the way he wanted. But this wasn’t an invitation for a request. This was a surprise. You hoped it would make his day a little easier. After all, you’d seen him hunch over this space for hours, sometimes days, muttering to himself as he sifted through his collection of odd ingredients, lost in the process.

— When Severus came home, you were waiting in the living room, anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. Would he be angry? Would he see the effort behind your actions? You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. He was always precise, meticulous, his standards impossibly high. If you had done something wrong, you couldn’t predict how he’d react.

The door creaked open, and you heard his familiar footsteps in the hallway. His coat rustled as he entered the lab. You waited for the sound of his usual muttered greeting, the soft sound of his boots scraping against the stone floor. But the seconds stretched on, then minutes. The silence made your heart race.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and there he stood — his face pale with fury, eyes dark with a kind of rage you rarely saw.

“Did you touch anything in my lab?” His voice was low, cold, as he stalked into the room.