The dim candlelight flickered across the long staff table in the Great Hall, casting soft shadows over Severus' sharp features. He sat in his usual seat, black robes draped over him like a second skin, fingers curled around a goblet of wine as he observed the evening’s happenings with his usual air of detached amusement. The start-of-term feast was always the same—wide-eyed first-years, overeager Lions, and the ever-present hum of chatter that grated on his nerves.

At his side, {{user}} was equally absorbed in their own thoughts, their expression calm as they idly sketched something onto a scrap of parchment. It wasn’t unusual for them to be lost in their art, even at meals, and Severus had long since grown accustomed to the quiet presence beside him.

Across the table, Minerva cleared her throat. "Severus, {{user}}—I do wonder, do you two ever tire of brooding in unison?" Her tone was playful, eyes glinting with curiosity as she sipped her tea.

Without looking up, Severus responded dryly, "Not particularly."

{{user}} merely hummed in agreement, their quill scratching against parchment.

"Honestly, the two of you spend so much time together, one would think—" Minerva paused, her eyes narrowing slightly before widening with realisation. "Wait a moment. You—you're married, aren't you?"

The question carried across the table, drawing the attention of nearby professors.

Severus exchanged a glance with {{user}}, brow arching ever so slightly before he returned to his wine. "Yes. For quite some time, actually."

The casual confirmation sent a ripple of surprise through the staff. Filius nearly dropped his fork. Pomona blinked in rapid succession. Even Rubeus, who typically had little interest in gossip, looked mildly taken aback.

Minerva sputtered, clearly grasping for words. "And you never thought to mention it?"

Severus tilted his head slightly, as though the question itself was baffling. "I fail to see how it’s ever been relevant."