One might have imagined he would be shocked to see them together. Surprised. Horrified.
He was the third one, at least. But he could not honestly call himself surprised.
He’d seen it coming. He’d known it from the beginning, some unconscious part of him recognizing the signs as they appeared before him, trying his best to find some other interpretation but always coming to the same inevitable conclusion.
He’d tried to reassure himself through the years that she loathed him just as he did. But it wasn’t until now, as the feelings of betrayal and anger washed over him like Stinksap, that he wondered whether she’d ever uttered those words at all. Had she ever said something disparaging about him that he, Severus, hadn’t wrestled out of her? How had he come to think she despised him? What hopeful, stupid, naïve whim had led him to believe she could see Potter for what he truly was?
The truth of it all was that he’d always hated Potter most of all (even though Black was arguably the crueler, more vindictive of the two) because he knew in his soul that she didn’t.
No, the fact that they were together now was equal parts agonizing and utterly unsurprising.