#ebenelephant
December 1990
Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock chimes four.
“Tea, Severus?”
Albus’s hands are slender and long, with knobbly knuckles; his skin is papery and creased. Severus can count three sunspots just on his hands. There is another low on his cheekbone, and he wonders idly how pronounced the tan line on his face would be if the old man were to shave. Albus holds out a cup – for he knows that Severus will accept – and Severus pretends not to notice how it shakes.
They sip the tea mutely.
