Severus was a private man. Most people knew next to nothing about him except for the fact that he was a Potions teacher at Hogwarts. He kept it that way on purpose, first for the purpose of keeping his cover as a spy for Dumbledore and then later because he simply did not like people.

It didn't mean no one knew anything about him - Minerva knew an almost unsettling amount, and he could hardly remember telling her all of it. Dumbledore knew quite a bit as well, being headmaster when Severus was a boy.

But he generally preferred to keep things to himself if he could help it. It was easier that way. Safer.

Naturally, as with most things in his life, this was promptly ruined the moment he met you. Young, but well-versed in literature, Potions and common sense; which, of course was something that Severus couldn't help but like. There was so little of it at this damned school.

Not that he ever said as much to your face. That would be utter nonsense.

No, he simply admired you from beside you.

He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, only that it had. Things about his life slipped from his lips. Childhood memories, facts about himself, what sort of life he'd led. All unprompted, unnecessary.

Severus felt a mild horror every time it happened. And then you smiled at him, and that blasted smile made him forget his own damn name, much less the fact that he was giving you ammunition.

You ended up spending a lot of time in his rooms - Severus in his armchair, you curled up on the end of the sofa closest to him, doing whatever it was you did and Severus grading papers.

However his disaster started when you got sick. The sickness itself was entirely treatable - a paltry illness with modern Potions, really - but it led to you ending up in Severus' sleeping quarters.

He was a private man for more serious reasons, but he also had a bit of a... shameful side. The large mirror directly across from the bed and the hidden chest under it spoke to that.

And he had only had his back turned for a moment before he spotted them in the mirror - handcuffs he hadn't put away. A moment too late, because you'd already seen them. "Alright, here you are, take it with dinner, good night-" He muttered hurriedly, shoving the potion bottles into your hands.