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Simple
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Where the hell is the kettle? I can never find it when he cleans up.

We never did get along, not when we were in school, not when we were fighting side by side and definitely not when we both taught at Hogwarts after the war.

There it is. Why is the kettle put away next to the dishes? I'll never get his strange sense of logic – if one would call it that.

I remembered when he pulled me in his office and shut the door in everyone's face. Merlin! Everyone must have thought he was going to kill me or vise versa, I knew I did. I had my hand on my wand before the door hit the frame.

He'll probably scoff or make one of his sounds that he insists is not a snort if he sees me filling the kettle the muggle way. Typical Slytherin, everything has to be about magic. I set the stove on "tea" and start looking for the tealeaves.

Strangely enough, he didn't hex. Instead, he did something much, much worse. He offered me tea. The archenemy of my life had just asked how I like my tea. I must be losing my mind, or my hearing or my ability to understand the English language. Maybe "How do you like your tea?" was really a new form of a curse he invented. Then he snorted at my shock and I refrained from blurting out my thoughts. It was too embarrassing.

Judging by my search for the kettle, I look in the most unlikely places one would be expected to find tea first. I am brilliant, but I won't question why is the tea placed in the silverware drawer. Even with my brilliance, I'm sure I won't be able comprehend his bizarre reasoning.

For the first time, the words came out of our mouths weren't curses or petty insults. We talked and made some amazing and troubling discoveries about ourselves.

Okay, the tea's ready now. All it's missing is sugar, there it is – in the dish cabinet. I carefully add two spoons of sugar to the cup; Severus likes it to be exact. I think sometimes, he confuses potion brewing with daily activities.

When we exited his office, I wished I had a camera to capture the look on everyone's face. Harry and Ron's knuckles were white from clenching their wands while Hermione looked ruffled as she tried to calm her friends down. Draco smirked coldly in a way that stated, "I would have enjoyed hexing your sorry ass." Disturbed, or possibly confusion, was the best way to describe Remus and McGonagall. Dumbledore was doing his best to keep Madam Pomfrey from kicking down the door and rushing in to stop the "silly fights between the boys".

Perfect is the only word to describe the tea as I set it on a tray and carry it to our room.

Things changed after that day. We still fought, but the bitterness underneath the sarcasm was gone. Some hexes were still cast, but with no malicious intents behind them. We still had lots of physical contact, not to cause damage but to show tenderness.

"Morning, Severus." I hand him the tea after he sits up. "I wanted to make you a breakfast in bed, but I can't figure out where you keep the pan."

I loved him and he loved me.

"Under the sink." He lets out a content sigh after the first sip and leans back into the pillow as he takes another.

It's as simple as that.

~ END ~