#Snape survives Nagini

[muiitoloko]

Would you be able to do a Severus Snape story. One where his girlfriend is nervous about having sex with him, as she still suffers from issues she suffered at the hands of a man who thought cared about her but just wanted to abuse her. Severus completely understands and never pressures her, she tells him she finally wants to have sex with him and he takes his time with her and is gently with her due her abuser being a sadist when it came to sex and not preparing her enough. Then after they have made love, he cuddles up with her which is a foreign concept to her as her abuser just use to shove her clothes into her arms after he was finished. Severus telling her how beautiful she is, as her abuser also belittled her about her body.

if you aren’t comfortable with this idea, it is fine if you choose not to write this idea.

Title: Alchemy of the Heart

Summary: A story of transformation and healing, where Severus Snape learns that love, like magic, can mend even the most broken of souls.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! 🫶

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never thought he would find himself in such a situation—dating a Muggle, living a life that was so mundanely normal after everything he had endured. He scoffed at the absurdity of it all as he moved about the small kitchen in his modest home at Spinner's End, preparing dinner for himself and you, the woman who had somehow wormed her way into his life, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length.

The irony was not lost on him. He, Severus Snape, a man who had spent his entire adult life hiding behind shadows and secrets, was now standing over a stove, chopping vegetables for a Muggle dish he barely knew how to make. He was a man who had survived the war, against all odds, only to be pulled back from the brink of death by none other than Harry bloody Potter. That particular twist of fate still rankled him. Potter had used the Elder Wand to heal the wounds inflicted by Nagini, saving his life and subsequently fighting to free him from Azkaban, where he had been imprisoned for a year. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing he owed his life and freedom to the very boy he had spent years despising.

Snape grimaced as he remembered the cold, damp cells of Azkaban, the Dementors draining every ounce of warmth and hope from him, leaving only a hollow shell behind. He had resigned himself to that fate, ready to be forgotten, to fade into obscurity. But Potter had other plans, of course. The boy who lived, the boy who couldn’t leave well enough alone.

And now, here he was, living in his old childhood home, the memories of his past haunting every corner, every shadow. But there was one new element in his life, something—or rather someone—who had become an unexpected comfort in this bleak existence. You.

He had first noticed you a few weeks after his release, moving into the house next door with your belongings piled into an old, beat-up car. You were a breath of fresh air in the stale, suffocating environment of Spinner’s End. Snape had tried to scare you off at first, his usual acerbic demeanor and cutting remarks meant to keep you at a distance. But you were persistent, infuriatingly so. You would knock on his door with some trivial request—a cup of sugar, a light for your stove, a missing ingredient for dinner. And every time, despite himself, Snape would begrudgingly oblige, always with a scowl and a sarcastic remark.

But you kept coming back. No matter how cold or curt he was, you would return, flashing that infuriatingly bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a warmth that he hadn’t known in years. Slowly, despite his best efforts, Snape found himself softening towards you, your presence becoming a constant, a fixture in his life that he didn’t entirely hate.

It had started as a reluctant friendship—if he could even call it that—exchanging a few words here and there, discussing the weather or some mundane topic. But then, one evening, you had invited him over for dinner. He had almost declined, the words on the tip of his tongue, but something in your eyes, a quiet loneliness, made him change his mind. And that night, as you both sat in your small, cozy kitchen, sharing a simple meal, Snape felt something shift between you. It was subtle, a barely noticeable change in the air, but it was there, and he knew you felt it too.

From that moment on, things were different. The awkwardness that had always lingered between you seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet understanding, a comfort in each other’s presence that neither of you could deny. The dinners became more frequent, the conversations more personal, and before long, those moments spent together turned into something more.

The first time you kissed him, it was hesitant, a brief brush of lips that left him reeling. He had pulled back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, of regret. But all he saw was warmth, acceptance, and something deeper—something he hadn’t felt in years. And so, he had kissed you again, this time with more conviction, more certainty, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, tasting the sweetness of your lips.

But even as things between you grew more intimate, there was always a hesitance on your part, a reluctance to let things progress beyond those heated kisses, those moments of passion that left you both breathless. Snape had tried to be patient, tried to respect your boundaries, but there were times when he couldn���t help the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until one night, after another round of heated kisses that left you both wanting more, that Snape’s patience finally wore thin. He had used Legilimency on you, a skill he had honed to perfection over the years, and what he saw left him reeling. Memories of your past, of a relationship that had been toxic, abusive, of a man who had used your body, your trust, against you. It made Snape’s blood boil with rage, a fury that he hadn’t felt in years, directed not at you but at the man who had hurt you.

He had pulled back immediately, ashamed of what he had done, of the intrusion, but he couldn’t erase the memories from his mind. He couldn’t forget the pain in your eyes, the fear that had lingered just beneath the surface, even as you tried to move on, to find happiness with him.

So he kept it to himself, burying the knowledge deep within, refusing to let it taint what was growing between you. He would wait, he decided. He would wait until you were ready to tell him, until you trusted him enough to open up, to share your past with him.

And then, one evening, as you both sat on his old, worn sofa, your head resting on his shoulder, you had finally told him. The words had tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling with fear and uncertainty, and Snape had listened, his heart aching with every word. When you had finished, he had wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered words of comfort, of reassurance.

"Thank you for telling me," he had murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You’re safe with me, always."

And that night, as you lay in his arms, Snape had made a silent vow to himself. He would never hurt you, never push you beyond what you were comfortable with. He would wait, as long as it took, until you were ready.

Now, as he stirred the pot of soup simmering on the stove, Snape couldn’t help but think back to that night, to the way you had looked at him with such trust, such vulnerability. It made his heart clench in a way that he wasn’t used to, a feeling that he had tried to bury for years but that now resurfaced with a vengeance.

You had come into his life like a force of nature, breaking down the walls he had built around himself, forcing him to confront emotions that he had long since buried. And while part of him resented it, resented the way you had made him feel again, another part of him—the part he tried to ignore—was grateful.

He heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind him and turned to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes bright with affection as you watched him cook. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sight of you, so full of life, so full of light.

"You’re cooking," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight as you stepped into the kitchen, your hands coming to rest on the counter as you leaned against it, watching him with those warm, trusting eyes.

"Don’t sound so shocked," Snape replied, his tone dry but not unkind as he turned back to the stove, giving the soup another stir. "I am capable of preparing a meal, despite what you may think."

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. "I never doubted it," you said, your voice light and teasing as you stepped closer, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "But I’m still impressed."

Snape felt a warmth spread through him at your touch, your lips against his skin sending a wave of heat coursing through his body. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of your gaze, the affection that shone in your eyes.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was gone, and Snape turned back to the stove, his hands tightening on the spoon as he stirred the soup with more force than necessary. He couldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable, to let his guard down. There was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much he was keeping from you.

You didn’t know that the man you were dating was not just a simple recluse living in a small, forgotten town. You didn’t know that the man you had trusted with your secrets, with your heart, was a wizard, a man who had fought in a war that had left deep scars on his soul. You didn’t know that the man you had chosen to love was capable of things that would terrify most people.

And as much as Snape wanted to keep it that way, to keep you safe from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out. He could only hope that when it did, you would still look at him with the same warmth, the same affection that you did now.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—preparing a simple meal for the woman who had become the light in his dark, shadowed world. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

You moved closer to him, your body pressing against his as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched him cook. Snape stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your embrace, the warmth of your body seeping into his own, calming the storm of thoughts that constantly swirled in his mind.

"Thank you, Sev," you murmured, your voice soft and sincere as you pressed another kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering against the fabric of his shirt. "For everything."

Snape swallowed hard, his throat tightening at the sound of your voice, the sincerity in your words. He wasn’t used to this—this warmth, this affection. It was foreign to him, something he had long since resigned himself to living without. But now, with you, it was becoming a part of his life, and as much as it terrified him, he found himself clinging to it, desperate for the light you brought into his world.

He didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust his voice to remain steady, so instead, he simply nodded, his hand coming up to rest on yours, squeezing it gently in silent acknowledgment.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just a connection, a confirmation that he was here, with you, in this moment. Whatever it was, Snape felt a surge of emotion rise up within him, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, as if sensing his turmoil, you leaned in and kissed him, your lips soft and warm against his, a gentle caress that made his heart ache with longing. Snape responded almost automatically, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate need that he hadn’t felt in years.

The kiss quickly grew more heated, more urgent, as Snape’s hands roamed over your body, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your clothes. He could feel the desire building within him, the need to take this further, to lose himself in you, in the warmth and comfort that you offered.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, you pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Severus," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly as you placed your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I… I want to be with you, but…"

Snape felt his heart clench at your words, the hesitation in your voice, the uncertainty in your eyes. He knew what you were going to say, knew what was holding you back, and it made his chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"But you’re not ready," Snape finished for you, his voice low and rough as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. "And that’s okay, love. We’ll take things at your pace."

You looked up at him, your eyes filling with tears as you nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hand against your skin.

Snape felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mixture of love and frustration and something else—something deeper, something darker that he couldn’t quite put into words. He wanted you, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—push you into something you weren’t ready for. Not after everything you had been through.

So instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as he whispered, "When you’re ready, I’ll be here."

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face in his chest, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. And in that moment, Snape realized that maybe, just maybe, he was.

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Snape couldn’t help but think of how far he had come, how much his life had changed since the end of the war. He had gone from being a man consumed by darkness and hatred, to a man who was learning to love again, who was finding solace in the warmth of a woman’s embrace.

But even as he held you close, the weight of his secrets pressed down on him, a constant reminder that there was still so much you didn’t know about him, so much that he was keeping from you.

And as much as he wanted to protect you from that darkness, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

For now, though, he would hold onto this moment, this brief reprieve from the shadows that haunted his every step. And he would continue to wait, as long as it took, until you were ready to take that next step, to fully trust him with your body, your heart, your soul.

Because for the first time in his life, Severus Snape had something worth waiting for.

You and Severus Snape sat across from each other at the small, worn kitchen table in his modest home. The room was quiet, save for the soft clinking of spoons against bowls as you both ate the soup he had prepared. The aroma of the dish filled the air, a comforting blend of herbs and spices that seemed almost out of place in the austere surroundings of Spinner’s End.

Snape watched you closely, his dark, piercing eyes never leaving your face as you took your first tentative spoonful of the soup. He appeared calm and composed, but there was a hint of something else in his gaze—an emotion that he carefully kept hidden behind his usual mask of indifference. You, oblivious to the scrutiny, tasted the soup, savoring the warmth that spread through you as you swallowed.

To your surprise, the soup was not just good—it was delicious. The flavors were rich and well-balanced, each ingredient perfectly complementing the others. You glanced up at Snape, your eyes wide with genuine admiration. “This is amazing, Severus,” you said, your voice filled with pleasant surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook!”

Snape’s response was immediate. He rolled his eyes in a manner that was both exaggerated and entirely out of character, the motion so unexpected that it caught you off guard. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he affected a tone of mock offense. “What did you expect, then? That I would poison you with my lack of culinary skills?”

You burst into laughter, the sound bright and clear in the small, dimly lit kitchen. “No, no! It’s just—I mean, you never struck me as the type to… well, cook. You always seem so serious, so… severe.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but there was a glint of amusement in them that you hadn’t noticed before. “I am full of surprises, as you’ve clearly discovered,” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were fighting the urge to smile.

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand as you leaned forward, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Sev. I didn’t mean to sound so… rude. I’m just pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”

Snape’s expression remained impassive, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, if you’re going to be so disrespectful about my cooking, perhaps I should refrain from ever doing it again,” he said, his tone smooth and measured, though laced with a subtle edge of sarcasm.

Your laughter died down, and you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes, your lips forming a small, playful pout. “Oh, please don’t do that! I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He allowed the silence to stretch out, letting you squirm slightly under his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair, his long, pale fingers steepled in front of him. “I suppose I can find it within myself to forgive you,” he said with mock gravity, his voice carrying that familiar, rich baritone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You grinned, relieved by the playful banter that had emerged between you two. “I promise to be more appreciative next time,” you said, your tone light and teasing.

Snape’s eyes softened slightly, and he allowed himself a small, genuine smile, though it was fleeting. “See that you do,” he replied, his voice carrying just a hint of warmth. He picked up his spoon once more, returning his attention to his soup, though you could tell he was still watching you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the earlier tension between you having dissipated entirely. There was something soothing about the simplicity of the moment—the two of you sharing a meal, the quiet intimacy of the evening wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

After a while, you looked up at him, a thought crossing your mind. “Severus,” you began, your voice soft and curious, “you never really talk about your past. You’ve told me bits and pieces, but… I don’t really know much about you.”

Snape’s hand paused mid-motion, his spoon hovering over the bowl. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something—uncertainty, perhaps?—in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual inscrutable expression.

“What exactly do you want to know?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase your question without prying too much. “I know you were a professor—a chemistry professor, right? At a college in Scotland?”

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the version of his past that he had shared with you. “Yes,” he said, his voice measured. “I taught for many years.”

You smiled at him, trying to convey that you weren’t seeking to push him into sharing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. “It must have been… interesting, teaching. But I can’t imagine it was easy, especially with students who didn’t always appreciate your brilliance.”

Snape’s lips twitched at that, and he let out a soft, sardonic huff. “Indeed. Many of them were more interested in their own self-indulgent pursuits than in actually learning anything of value.”

You chuckled, imagining a classroom full of students cowering under Snape’s stern gaze, their attempts at chemistry likely met with his cutting remarks. “I’m sure you were a… challenging teacher,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your tact. “I was effective,” he replied simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Do you miss it? Teaching, I mean.”

For a moment, Snape was silent, his eyes distant as if he were considering your question—or perhaps reliving old memories. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more reflective. “There are aspects of it that I miss, yes. The pursuit of knowledge, the satisfaction of imparting it to those few who were truly eager to learn… But the rest… no, I do not miss that.”

You nodded, understanding that there was much more to his past than he was willing—or perhaps able—to share. You didn’t press further, content to let him reveal what he wished in his own time. Instead, you reached out and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Sev,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with sincerity.

Snape looked at you, his expression inscrutable, but you could sense the shift in his mood—the subtle softening of his usual defenses. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice low and almost reluctant, as if the words didn’t come easily to him.

You both returned to your meal, the earlier levity now replaced by a quiet, comfortable silence. As you finished your soup, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment—a feeling that, despite everything, you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the man who, against all odds, had become so important to you.

And as Snape watched you from across the table, his dark eyes lingering on your face, he too felt a stirring of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years—something that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t entirely hate.

Days later, you found yourself in a small, charming boutique nestled in the heart of town, dragging Severus Snape along with you. The place was a far cry from the dark, foreboding atmosphere of Spinner's End. It was bright, colorful, and filled with racks of clothing that seemed to almost offend Snape’s sensibilities. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fabric and a hint of perfume, and the light streaming through the windows made everything seem almost unnaturally cheerful.

Snape, however, was anything but cheerful.

He stood in the middle of the store, his tall, lean frame towering over the racks of clothing, his long black coat making him look like a shadow in a world of light. His greasy black hair hung over his pale, angular face, and his dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of disdain and discomfort. He watched you with a glare that could have curdled milk, his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"You cannot be serious," he growled, his deep, monotone voice cutting through the lighthearted chatter of the boutique. "I have no interest in—"

"Oh, come on, Sev," you interrupted, undeterred by his intimidating presence as you held up a bright, turquoise shirt, eyeing it critically before pushing it against his chest. "You can't always wear black. It's time for a change, don't you think?"

Snape recoiled as if you had just handed him a particularly venomous potion. "Absolutely not," he snapped, pushing the shirt away from him as if it were toxic. "I am perfectly content with my current wardrobe, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by his resistance. "You can't hide in black forever, you know. It’s time to add a little color to your life, Severus."

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of stubborn defiance. "I see no need for such frivolity. I am not one of your... fashion experiments."

You grinned at his surly tone, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you rifled through another rack of clothing. "Well, maybe you should be. I think you’d look quite dashing in something other than black for a change."

Snape’s eyes narrowed further as he watched you, clearly unimpressed with the direction this outing was taking. "This is absurd," he muttered, though there was a faint trace of resignation in his voice as he realized that there was no escaping your determination.

And then, as if to test his resolve further, you pulled out a bright pink shirt from the rack, holding it up for him to see. "What about this?" you asked, your voice filled with playful innocence. "I think pink would really bring out the color in your eyes."

Snape’s reaction was immediate and visceral. His dark eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, it looked as if he might actually hiss at the offending garment. "Absolutely not!" he thundered, taking a step back as if the shirt were about to attack him. "I will not—under any circumstances—wear pink! No! No! No way! I’d rather die before wearing that!"

You burst into laughter at his dramatic reaction, clutching the shirt to your chest as you tried to stifle your giggles. "Oh, Sev," you managed between laughs, "you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a shirt!"

"It’s not just a shirt," he retorted, his voice laced with indignation. "It’s a deliberate assault on my dignity. Pink, indeed!" He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disdain. "Do I look like someone who would wear pink?"

You stepped closer to him, your laughter subsiding as you held the shirt up to his chest again, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of challenge and affection. "You might be surprised," you teased, your voice softening slightly as you gave him a knowing smile. "Besides, I think you’d look quite handsome in it. It’s just for fun, Sev. No one’s going to see you."

Snape stared down at you, his expression unreadable as he contemplated your words. There was a long moment of silence as the two of you stood there, the bright pink shirt still held between you, an unspoken battle of wills playing out in the air.

Finally, with a resigned sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Snape snatched the shirt from your hands, his dark eyes glaring at you with a mixture of frustration and reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "But if I look ridiculous, I will hold you personally responsible."

You grinned, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement as you watched him disappear into the dressing room. "I’m sure you’ll look fantastic," you called after him, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Several minutes passed, and you waited impatiently outside the dressing room, practically buzzing with anticipation. Finally, the door creaked open, and Snape stepped out, his tall, lean frame draped in the bright pink shirt you had chosen for him.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence. The shirt, against all odds, actually looked… good on him. The color, while a far cry from his usual black, brought out a warmth in his pale complexion that you hadn’t noticed before. The way the fabric clung to his lean form was surprisingly flattering, highlighting the sharp lines of his shoulders and chest.

But what really struck you was the expression on Snape’s face. He looked utterly resigned, as if he were bracing himself for some inevitable disaster, but there was also a glimmer of something else in his dark eyes—something that almost looked like amusement.

He stood there, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he clapped his hands together, his expression deadpan as he waited for your reaction. "Well?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you satisfied with your handiwork, or do I need to suffer through more of this torture?"

You couldn’t help it. You burst into laughter, the sound bright and joyful as you clapped your hands together in delight. "You look… amazing, Severus!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you stepped closer to him, reaching out to smooth the fabric of the shirt against his chest. "I knew you’d look good in pink!"

Snape rolled his eyes, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that betrayed his own amusement. "I look like an idiot," he muttered, though the words lacked any real heat. "This is precisely why I do not allow you to choose my clothing."

You grinned up at him, your hands resting on his chest as you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. "Well, I think you look quite handsome," you said, your voice filled with affection. "And besides, it’s good to have a little fun every now and then, don’t you think?"

Snape huffed, clearly unconvinced, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before—a subtle acknowledgment of the fact that, despite his grumbling, he didn’t entirely hate the experience.

"Fun," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he gave you a pointed look. "Yes, well, I suppose if nothing else, I’ve provided you with some amusement."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling as you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "You always do, Severus. You always do."

And as you both left the boutique, Snape still wearing the pink shirt with a mixture of resignation and reluctant acceptance, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The man who had once been shrouded in darkness, who had built walls around himself so high that no one could penetrate them, was slowly letting you in—one bright pink shirt at a time.

Later that day, after the unexpected and rather amusing shopping trip, you found yourself back at Snape’s home. The small, dimly lit rooms of Spinner’s End were a stark contrast to the bright, colorful boutique you had dragged him to earlier, but there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of the old, worn furniture and the quiet, almost melancholic atmosphere that seemed to permeate every corner of the house.

Snape, now mercifully back in his usual black attire, sat stiffly on a low stool in the bathroom, his long legs awkwardly folded in front of him, as you fussed over his hair. The small, narrow room was filled with the scent of shampoo and the faint sound of water dripping from the faucet, the only noises breaking the otherwise heavy silence.

You stood behind him, your fingers working through the tangled strands of his long, greasy black hair, your touch gentle but insistent. The hair-washing had been your idea, of course—a suggestion made with the kind of playful insistence that you knew Snape could never fully resist, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

Snape, for his part, was doing his best to endure the ordeal with what little dignity he had left. His dark eyes were narrowed in a mixture of discomfort and irritation as he glared at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, his lips pressed into a thin line of discontent. Every so often, he would let out a low grumble, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

"Must you continue this charade?" he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shot you a sideways glance in the mirror. "I’m quite capable of washing my own hair, you know."

You ignored his complaints, your fingers continuing to work through the soapy strands of his hair with determined care. "Oh, hush, Severus," you replied, your tone light and teasing as you gently massaged his scalp. "You’re just being grumpy because you know I’m right—this hair needs a good washing, and you weren’t about to do it yourself."

Snape let out an indignant huff, his fingers curling tightly around the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain some semblance of control over the situation. "I hardly think you’re qualified to make such judgments," he retorted, though the faint hint of amusement in his tone betrayed his true feelings. "And you’re taking entirely too much pleasure in this."

You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you leaned down to press a quick, playful kiss to the top of his head. "Of course I am," you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. "When else do I get the chance to pamper you like this?"

Snape rolled his eyes, though the gesture lacked any real heat. "Pamper," he repeated, his voice laced with irony as he met your gaze in the mirror. "If this is what you consider pampering, then I shudder to think what you would consider torture."

You grinned, your hands still working methodically through his hair, carefully untangling each knot with the patience of someone who had come to know him well enough to not be intimidated by his gruff demeanor. "Oh, Sev," you teased, your voice soft and affectionate, "I think you secretly enjoy this more than you let on. You just don’t want to admit it."

He scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he turned his head to glare at you, though there was no real malice in his gaze. "I assure you, I derive no enjoyment from being subjected to this… this—"

"Indulgence?" you supplied, your tone light and playful as you met his glare with a knowing smile.

"Humiliation," Snape corrected, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he turned his attention back to the mirror, his expression once again settling into its usual stoic mask. "But by all means, continue with your… indulgence."

You shook your head, your grin widening as you continued to work through his hair, the strands slowly becoming less tangled, less greasy under your careful ministrations. "You’re impossible," you muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. "But that’s part of your charm, I suppose."

Snape’s only response was a low, noncommittal grunt, his fingers tapping impatiently against the edge of the sink as he tried to maintain his patience.

After a few more minutes of combing through his hair, you finally felt satisfied with your work. You reached for a clean towel, gently wrapping it around his head as you began to dry the now-clean strands with a firm but gentle touch. "There, all done," you said, your voice filled with a quiet satisfaction as you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

Snape, however, was less than impressed. He reached up, his long fingers brushing through his now-damp hair with a frown, as if expecting to find some glaring imperfection. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, his tone a mixture of irritation and resignation as he glanced at you in the mirror.

"Not quite," you replied, your eyes catching sight of a single strand of white hair near the crown of his head. Your expression shifted from playful to curious as you reached out to touch the strand, gently pulling it free from the rest of his hair.

"Sev," you said, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and amusement as you held up the white hair for him to see. "Look what I found."

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the strand in your hand, his expression immediately hardening. "That is not mine," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It must have gotten mixed in with my hair somehow."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his stubborn denial, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you dangled the strand in front of him. "Oh, come on, Sev," you teased, your voice light and playful as you met his glare with a grin. "It’s just one white hair. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes narrowing further as he snatched the strand from your hand, his expression one of absolute refusal. "It is not mine," he repeated, his voice filled with the kind of certainty that only Severus Snape could muster. "I do not have white hair."

You rolled your eyes, clearly amused by his adamant refusal to accept the truth. "You’re impossible," you muttered, shaking your head as you watched him carefully inspect the strand of hair, as if trying to find some evidence to support his claim.

"Impossible or not," Snape replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tossed the strand of hair into the waste bin with a flick of his wrist, "I refuse to believe that I am… aging."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against the sharp line of his jaw as you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and amusement. "Everyone ages, Sev," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth as you met his gaze. "Even you."

Snape’s expression softened slightly at your words, though he still seemed reluctant to accept the truth. "Perhaps," he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he glanced away, his dark eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become so important to you, despite his stubbornness, despite his gruff exterior. "It’s nothing to worry about," you assured him, your voice soft and reassuring as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I think it just makes you more distinguished."

Snape let out a low, skeptical grunt, his lips curving into a faint, reluctant smile as he met your gaze once more. "Distinguished," he repeated, his tone filled with a mixture of irony and amusement. "Is that what you call it?"

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you nodded. "Absolutely," you replied, your voice filled with playful conviction. "And besides, it’s just one hair. You’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about going gray."

Snape rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by your reassurances, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he allowed himself to relax into your touch, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and frustration.

"You’re entirely too pleased with yourself," he murmured, his voice low and rough as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your skin.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, your heart quickening as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. "And you’re entirely too grumpy," you retorted, though your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the playful banter giving way to a sudden, undeniable tension that crackled in the air between you.

Snape’s lips curved into a small, dangerous smile, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "Perhaps," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, seductive growl as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "you need to be reminded of why you shouldn’t push me too far."

Your breath hitched at the underlying threat in his tone, a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you as his fingers tightened around your wrist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady, insistent pressure of his arousal against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to your core.

"Severus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and uncertain.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your hesitation, the dark intensity in his eyes giving way to a quiet, almost tender concern. "You’re still afraid," he murmured, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire as he brushed his lips against your temple, the gentle gesture at odds with the possessive grip he had on your wrist. "You don’t have to be, love."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the weight of his words, the quiet reassurance in his voice making your resolve waver. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt, of hesitation.

But there was none. Only the dark, smoldering intensity of a man who wanted you—body, heart, and soul.

"I want this," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long, the words that you had been too afraid to say. "I want you, Sev."

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest at your admission, his dark eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and satisfaction as he leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a possessive urgency that made your knees weak.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his damp hair as you pressed yourself against him, the fear and hesitation that had held you back for so long melting away in the heat of his embrace. There was no room for doubt, no room for fear—only the overwhelming need to be with him, to feel him, to lose yourself in the pleasure that he offered.

Snape’s hands moved with a sure, practiced grace as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushed the fabric aside, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of your chest. He let out a low, appreciative groan as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire as he reached up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the hollow of your throat, his hands moving to your waist as he slowly began to guide you toward the bed. "I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long."

You let out a soft moan at the feel of his lips against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as you allowed him to lead you, your legs trembling with anticipation as you felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees. "Sev," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He met your gaze, his expression softening slightly as he sensed your lingering hesitation, his hands moving to cup your face as he leaned down to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to your lips. "You don’t have to be afraid," he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he brushed his thumbs against your cheeks, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, tender concern. "I’ll be gentle, love. I promise."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had been so patient, so understanding, even as his own desire threatened to consume him. "I trust you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as you savored the warmth of his hands against your skin.

Snape let out a low, relieved sigh at your words, his lips curving into a small, tender smile as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hands moving to gently guide you onto the bed. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet, sincere gratitude as he leaned over you, his dark eyes never leaving yours as he slowly began to undress you, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverent care that made your heart ache.

There was no rush, no urgency—only the slow, deliberate movements of a man who wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every kiss. And as he finally stripped away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for so long fading into the background as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

Snape took his time, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body with a slow, deliberate care that made your breath hitch in your throat, the pleasure building with every touch, every caress. He was patient, attentive, always watching, always listening for any sign of discomfort, of hesitation, ready to stop at a moment’s notice if you so much as whispered a word of doubt.

But you gave him none. Only soft, breathless moans and whispered pleas for more, your body arching into his touch as he slowly, gently, brought you to the edge of pleasure, only to pull back, teasing you with the promise of release before finally, mercifully, giving you what you craved.

When he finally entered you, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust, his hands gripping your hips as he filled you completely, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisitely perfect. You let out a soft cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure that surged through you.

"Sev," you moaned, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and relief as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to move, his thrusts slow and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

He let out a low, guttural groan at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he quickened his pace, the intensity of his movements matched only by the fierce, possessive hunger in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of absolute, unbridled need.

"You’re mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his hips driving into you with a desperate urgency that made your breath hitch in your throat. "Mine, love. Always."

You could only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words as you lost yourself in the sensation of him moving inside you, the steady, insistent rhythm of his thrusts sending you spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release.

And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you cried out in pleasure, your fingers digging into his back as you clung to him, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent.

Snape continued moving inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as the intensity of his own pleasure grew, his control slipping with each passing second. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and inscrutable, were now clouded with raw desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, his voice a strained whisper, rough with the effort to hold back. There was a note of desperation in his tone, a plea for your permission, your acceptance, as he teetered on the edge of release.

Your mind was a haze of pleasure, your body still trembling from the powerful orgasm he had just coaxed from you. His question hung in the air, charged with the weight of what it would mean—for him to finally claim you, to mark you as his.

“In me,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but there was no mistaking the conviction in your words. “Cum inside me, Severus.”

A low, guttural curse escaped his lips, a rare crack in his usually controlled demeanor, as he buried himself to the hilt with a final, powerful thrust. The sensation of his thick length pulsing deep inside you sent a shudder through your body, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, holding him close as he found his release.

He came hard, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he held you in place, ensuring that every last drop was buried deep within you. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, mingling with the soft, desperate moans that escaped his lips as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, the intensity of it nearly overwhelming him.

“Mine,” he growled through clenched teeth, his voice rough with satisfaction as he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. “You’re mine, love… all mine.”

You could only nod weakly, your body spent, your mind still reeling from the force of your own climax. The weight of his words, the possessiveness in his tone, sent a thrill through you, even as exhaustion began to creep in, your limbs heavy and languid as you lay beneath him.

Snape slowly pulled out of you, a low, satisfied groan rumbling in his chest as he watched the evidence of his claim slowly begin to seep from your body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, the sight stirring something deep within him—something primal, possessive, and utterly inescapable.

But before you could fully process what was happening, Snape surprised you by shifting lower, his long, lean frame sliding down the bed until his face was level with your still-sensitive core. Your eyes widened in shock as you realized what he intended, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for himself.

“Sev—” you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and lingering sensitivity, but he silenced you with a look, his dark eyes glinting with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Be still,” he commanded softly, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your inner thigh in a feather-light caress. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You whimpered softly, your body trembling as he moved closer, his breath hot against your already oversensitive skin. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your most intimate areas, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure and discomfort through your body in equal measure.

“Severus, please,” you pleaded, your voice weak and breathy as you tried to squirm away, the overwhelming sensitivity making you want to pull back, to escape the onslaught of sensations that were too much, too intense.

But Snape would have none of it. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he buried his face between your legs, his lips and tongue seeking out the remnants of his own release mixed with your essence. The feel of his mouth on you, the deliberate, almost reverent way he cleaned you, was both too much and not enough, your mind spinning with the intensity of it all.

“Stay still,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a rough whisper as he continued his ministrations, his tongue lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers of pleasure racing up your spine. “Let me taste you… let me taste what’s mine.”

You gasped, your fingers curling into the sheets as you fought against the urge to pull away, the overwhelming sensitivity making every touch feel like both pleasure and torture. Your body jerked involuntarily, but Snape only tightened his grip, holding you steady as he continued to work his mouth against you, his dark eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

He loved this—loved the way you trembled beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch even when it was too much, too intense. He loved the way your breath hitched in your throat, the way your nails dug into the sheets as you fought to keep still, to endure the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he continued to lap at you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made you cry out, your body convulsing beneath him. “So perfect… so responsive… I could do this forever.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too clouded with pleasure, your body too wracked with sensation to form coherent words. All you could do was cling to the sheets, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Snape continued to work his mouth against you, his tongue relentless in its pursuit of every last drop of your combined release.

“Sev, please… it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and need as you tried to pull away, your body on the verge of another climax, the overstimulation sending jolts of pleasure and pain through you in equal measure.

But Snape didn’t let up. If anything, your pleas only seemed to spur him on, his mouth working you with renewed fervor, his hands tightening on your thighs as he held you in place, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you.

“You can take it,” he growled against your skin, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine, love… every part of you. I’ll make you cum again… I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

His words were your undoing. With a final, desperate cry, your body convulsed beneath him, your second orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, trembling, and utterly spent. Snape held you through it, his mouth never leaving you, his tongue continuing to lap at you even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body limp and exhausted, Snape slowly pulled away, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you, his lips curving into a small, dangerous smile.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

You could only nod weakly, your mind clouded by exhaustion and the overwhelming pleasure that had just coursed through you. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, spent, and as you lay there, trying to catch your breath, the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart still pounding in your ears, as you waited for the inevitable.

You braced yourself for the cold distance that you had come to expect from your past—waiting for him to pull away, to turn his back on you, to push you away with a dismissive order, just like your ex-boyfriend used to do. The old fears began to creep back in, threatening to ruin the quiet afterglow that had settled over the room.

But Severus didn’t do that.

Instead, he surprised you. The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside you, and before you could even process what was happening, he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. His embrace was firm but comforting, his long, lean body molding perfectly to yours as he held you, his breath warm against your temple.

“Did you like it?” he asked quietly, his deep, monotone voice soft, almost hesitant, as if he were unsure of the answer. His hand came up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you further. You could feel his lips brush against your forehead in a tender kiss, a gesture that was so unexpected, so out of character, that it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the voice to tell him how much his gentleness meant to you, how much his care and concern had touched you. Instead, all you could do was lay there in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

When you didn’t respond immediately, Severus tensed slightly, his grip on you loosening as if he feared he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet regret. “If I was too much… if I pressured you… that was never my intention.”

The sincerity in his words, the genuine worry that laced his tone, sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to blink rapidly to keep them from falling. The care he was showing you, the way he was so attuned to your feelings, was something you weren’t used to. Your ex-boyfriend had never asked if you were okay, never checked if you were comfortable or happy. But here was Severus, a man who had every reason to be distant and cold, holding you with such tenderness, such concern, that it made your heart ache.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. His dark gaze met yours, and you could see the worry etched into his sharp features, the way his brow furrowed as he waited for your response. He was genuinely concerned for you, genuinely worried that he had done something to hurt you, and the realization was almost too much to bear.

“I…” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, but all you could manage was a soft, choked sob as the tears finally spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “Severus, I… I’ve never…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t find a way to explain the depth of what you were feeling. But Severus seemed to understand. His expression softened, and he gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, his touch so gentle, so reverent, that it only made you cry harder.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “It’s all right, love. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here… and I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance in his words, the quiet promise that he would stay, that he wouldn’t push you away, was more than you could have ever hoped for. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold onto this moment, to hold onto the safety and comfort he was offering you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you tried to control the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you. “I’m sorry for crying… I just… I’m not used to this. To someone caring.”

Severus tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you against him as he whispered, “You never have to apologize for your feelings, not with me. And you deserve to be cared for, love. You deserve to be treated with kindness… with respect.”

The words sent another wave of emotion crashing over you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that shook your body, the raw, unfiltered emotion spilling out of you as you finally allowed yourself to feel the depth of what you had been holding back for so long. Severus held you through it all, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently stroking your hair as he murmured soft words of comfort, his deep voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained, you pulled back slightly, looking up at Severus through tear-streaked eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “Thank you for… for being so kind. For caring.”

Severus gazed down at you, his dark eyes filled with a warmth that took your breath away. “I care about you more than you know,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “And I will always care. You’re safe with me… always.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much his reassurance meant to you, how much his presence in your life had changed everything. Instead, you simply leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, pouring all of your gratitude, all of your affection, into that one, simple gesture.

Severus returned the kiss with a tenderness that made your heart swell, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate care that made you feel cherished, adored.

When the kiss finally ended, Severus rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “You’re incredible, love. So strong… so beautiful. And I’m honored that you’ve allowed me to be a part of your life.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke those words as if he truly believed them, made your chest tighten with emotion. No one had ever spoken to you like this before, had ever made you feel so valued, so loved.

“Severus,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with tears. “I… I love you.”

For a moment, Severus didn’t respond. His dark eyes searched yours, as if trying to discern the truth in your words, and when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with a quiet, almost reverent awe. “You love me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you repeated the words, letting them hang in the air between you. “I love you, Severus. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Severus closed his eyes, a soft, shaky breath escaping his lips as he let the words sink in. When he opened his eyes again, there was a vulnerability in his gaze that took your breath away, a raw, unguarded emotion that he had never allowed you to see before.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, almost desperate sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

The words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the wounds left by your past, filling the empty spaces in your heart with a warmth that you had never known before. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you buried your face in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear.

And as Severus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a protective, comforting embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, in his heart, in his life. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly, deeply loved.

[strangesthirdeye]

Late Night Potions ( Severus Snape x Wife! Reader)

Summary: There are times when they are safe but still remind them of bitter thing.

Warning: it's Severus Snape, he's always slay, soft Severus, love, fluff, sweet, Severus being a good husband, ooc Severus Snape? Cannot sleep.. Severus survived Battle of Hogwarts.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another stir clockwise and one more peppermint, The calming draughts Severus made finally turned brown meaning it was ready. He grabbed the glass vial that was placed not far from where he was brewing and opened the lid of the vial and slowly he scooped the potion with a spoon then put it in the vial.

The clock showed 3 in the morning and Severus was still in his potion room in his own house which was a bit late for brewing something at that time but it was Severus of course he had time to brew something. Well, the reality is that he can't catch a wink of sleep directly, making him stare at the ceiling of the bedroom he and you share. While you were soundlessly sleeping, Severus decided to get out of bed without keeping you awake and decided to make some light potions to make himself tired so he could easily fall asleep.

But still, after the 3 potions he made and all the process of putting the three potions into the vial, he still couldn't catch his sleepiness and that made him frustrated.

The eye bags under his eyes are visible while his face is definitely tired but the strange thing is that he can't sleep even though his body language clearly shows that he needs to sleep.

He sighed tiredly then closed the glass vial and placed the potions on the other potions shelf according to the label. He rubbed his face trying to remove the fog from his eyes which indicated that he needed to sleep. He then swished his wand to carefully pack the potions tools on the table. And standby for the 4th brewing potions.

Severus then swished his wand towards the ingredient cabinet for the potion he wanted to make, which was the Blood Replenishing potion. All ingredients are floated and gently placed on the table. Severus then cleaned the standby cauldron and placed it on the bunsen burner. He then opened the bunsen burner with a small flame and cast Aguamenti into the cauldron and miraculously the cauldron was filled with water according to the prescribed measure.

While he waited for the water to heat for 5 minutes, he started flipping through his potions book to idly even though he was skilled and memorized all the potions he made, he still needed the potions book to be sure. Sometimes he will add some useful notes to the book so that when he teaches, he can teach students more efficiently.

After 5 minutes, he then reached the dew and was ready to be placed in the cauldron but stopped when he felt a hand hugging his abdomen from behind. He was stunned but then relieved when he found out it was you.

You who had just woken up from sleep after discovered that Severus was not in the bed hugged Severus' back tightly in a still sleepy state. Severus knew that you couldn't sleep without him because he knew that you still imagined him disappearing and never coming back after the terrible Battle of Hogwarts that happened a few months ago. Although Severus survived Nagini's attack and was put in St's Mungos for two months to recover from snake venom, you are still afraid that he will be gone.

Severus stiffened shoulders dropped then he leaned against your touch. Savoring the warm temperature from your body. He sighed tiredly. His hands that holding the potions ingredients were placed on the table and his fingers rubbed the back of your hand that wrapped around his abdomen. The flame of the Bunsen burner was extinguished by him.

"It's 3 am and you're brewing potions" you mumbled behind his shoulder.

"Just want to make myself tired so that I can sleep well" Severus said lowly in his deep tone.

"Nightmare?" You parted away from his shoulder and leaned the side of your head behind him.

"Incredulity" Severus sighed.

"Incredulity with what?" You questioned with perplexity.

"That we both survive that battle" Severus muttered.

You raised your head and instantly faced him. Your face looked up at his face. His tired eyes that clearly make you concerned with his state. You and him still have a traumatic experience from the battle, which makes you both uneasy when the matter is mentioned. It's lucky you both survived even though Severus had to be admitted to the hospital and you suffered several injuries that left scars that made you think how lucky you both were to survive the battle. It also means that you two are very strong to survive the battle.

You softened your look and reached Severus' sharp cheek and stroked it gently. Severus closed his eyes and leaned against your warm palm.

"I also wonder how we can survive that battle but that's the story line. We both survive with the hope that we both can be together. All the things we went through together before and after that battle are the main pillars of our strength. We survive because we know that we are need this 'life'." You replied softly, caressing Severus' cheek.

Severus let out a heavy sigh. "the things we went through, what if one of us didn't survive the battle? What if the battle was just a dream? What if I lost you?"

"stop it, Sev. Ignore those negative thoughts. We are both safe and alive. Voldermort and the Death Eater are gone. You don't need to be a double agent to know the plans of both parties. You are who you are now. We are both safe and sound without any obstacles . We have each other." you firmly said.

Severus leaned his forehead against yours with his eyes closed.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Severus whispered in a husky and deep tone that always made your knees tremble hearing that even though the two of you had been together for almost 6 years.

"You didn't do anything. It's me who came to you and saved you and you accept me as I am" you whispered back.

[jmscornerlibrary]

Snape's Retirement Headcanon:

In an alternate reality, in which Snape survives Nagini and is pardoned by the higher powers or whatnot, both Minerva McGonagall and he come to a decision: as soon as the aftermath of the war is over, they are going to retire.

And they do retire. Minerva manages to find two matching bungalows somewhere in a village and after a lot of snapping and arguing Snape agrees to move into the one meant for him. They visit one another every day, read to one another, go on walks dressed exactly as they normally would be in Hogwarts and become somewhat of a mysterious attraction for the locals.

The village children don't like Snape at first - he's always grumpy/scowling, hardly laughs, and he looks pretty ominous in his black clothes which he wears even during the summer. Minerva is slightly more welcoming: she invites the children for biscuits and tea and they after a week or two they all call her Granny Minnie and are fascinated by all the things she has in her house and how amazing the sweets she has are.

After Snape catches a cold or something irritable like that, and the children arrive at Minerva's for their usual visit and after they get scolded for having muddy knees and hands (which they wash), Minerva gets up using her walking cane, gestures with it and says:

"Come on, children, we're all going to pay Mr Snape a visit to see how he is!"

And Snape gets absolutely swamped by these loud and hyper village children (including little girls of six with frilly bows in their hair which fetch their plush toys and dolls and place them all on his bed and rowdy boys trying their best to be helpful whilst fetching things and knocking furniture over) who all offer him tea and show him their treasures and babble nonsense while he vaguely resembles the 'A Bug's Life' ladybird. He's obviously really irritated but cannot for the life of him bring himself to chase them away since they obviously mean well. During all of this, Minerva basks in the image and almost gets a stitch from laughing and... well. After some time, they end up adopting all these village kids, deemed a mad uncle and auntie, get invited by their parents for tea and get interested in the small village community state of affairs (though Snape obviously pretends he couldn't care less, which is a big fat lie).

Minerva often says things like:

"Wow, Franny has grown so tall and quite a proper young lady! We'll have to use a warding charm so that she doesn't get into trouble when the admirers start pouring."

"Don't worry, Dylan, you'll look as good in braces as you did without them, like I have told you before... What? Your teeth magically straightened overnight? Merlin's beard, what a surprise! [hides wand] I cannot imagine how that possibly could have happened."

And Snape:

"You say Antoinetta has a boyfriend, now? Tsh. I remember when she was six and could hardly tie her laces... a tidy, neat creature, that has to be admited. Though she had a gift for breaking all of my porcelain... What? He left her for another girl? She was in floods of tears? [drawing wand] Oh, no, no, don't be silly Minerva, I'm just going to repair the sink. It broke recently... [under his breath] And it won't be the only thing that's broken when I'm through with that wretch."

and:

"No, for the final time, Minerva, I don't give a damn whether Brandon wants a cat or an even an ostritch for his birthday. Honestly. [scoffs and adds 'cat for Brandon' to shopping list] Who do you take me for, a fairy godmother?"

And for them, life is good, and they do live happily ever after.

[snowyslytherinowl]

Joyous Nightmares - Part 1

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: A year after surviving the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape begins to have joyous nightmares where he dreams of having a wife and a daughter. These dreams bring him nightmares because he doesn't believe that he'll ever get married or have a family of his own. So what happens when the wife in his dreams is revealed to be you?

Warning: Nothing heavy, but there are some mentions of death. Angst and nightmares are also featured.  This is my first fanfiction for Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 2 | Part 3

*GIF isn't mine

Severus has had nightmares for as long as he can remember. As a child, he dreamt of his parents arguing and his father hitting him when drunk. Then his nightmares focused mainly on his rejection from Lily, and Potter and Black bullying him. Sometimes they would trip him in the hall, causing his trousers to fall off, and other times Potter would make him kiss the ground and eat the dirt while Lily watched. As he grew older, he dreamt of Lily’s death. After the Second Wizarding War, he relived his near-fatal attack by Nagini almost every night. But about a year after the war ends, Severus starts to have nightmares about a much different topic. 

Severus is sitting on his bed when he hears crying. He walks down a hall in a house, one that looks much different than the one in Spinner’s End, to the source of the crying: a baby. He opens the door at the end of the hall and sees a small infant flailing around the crib. Gingerly lifting the baby from the bed, he cradles the baby in his arm and places their head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows that the baby is a girl and that she’s his daughter. He gently bounces her up and down and sits in a rocking chair. 

“Hush now. Daddy is here,” he whispers and kisses her forehead. “You have nothing to fear. I will always protect you.” He holds the little girl closer to him, and soon she falls asleep in his arms. 

Severus wakes up in his bed in his private chamber at Hogwarts. Although he has dreamt of much more horrific, much more gruesome things, this dream leaves him feeling immensely worse. He has been bullied and seen death in the real world, so seeing it in his mind’s eye at night is no different than experiencing it. But dreaming of cradling his own tiny baby girl? That leaves him with a gaping hole in his heart, a hole he cannot mend because he will never have a family. Pathetic, greasy-haired Severus, forever condemned to loneliness. 

He pulls the covers back up his chest, turns on his side, and closes his eyes. No matter how much he tosses and turns that night, he can't fall asleep until dawn. 

XXX

Several nights later, Severus has a similar dream. 

He’s back in the same house. With a quick peek through the window, he can tell that this house is in the countryside with its green, sprawling valley. Severus turns to the little girl in the highchair, who is now eight or nine months old. He dips a spoon into a jar of baby food and tries to feed it to his daughter, who purses her lips and turns her head.

“Do not be picky. This is delicious,” he says and puts the spoonful of baby food into his mouth. No, he was lying about the delicious part. “Perhaps it does not taste good, but it is good for you. My Half-Blood Princess must grow to be healthy and strong.”

Even though his daughter giggles at her nickname, she still refuses to eat the food. “Fine. I did not want to fall into temptation, but you are forcing me.”

Severus takes a small cauldron from the cupboard, which is no bigger than a large bowl. He puts the jar of baby food and spoon into the cauldron and uses his wand to make steam rise from the cauldron. He swirls his wand over the cauldron, pretending to stir it, and casts a fake spell of gibberish words. 

Severus’s daughter breaks into a giggling fit and bounces up and down in her high seat. Severus can’t help but smile and laugh at her joy. He uses his wand to lift a spoonful of baby food from the cauldron and towards the little girl, who finally opens her mouth and eats. 

He never thought himself much of a fatherly figure, but these joyous nightmares have made him realize how desperately he wishes to have a family of his own. Every time he visits Hogsmeade, he stares at the small children accompanying their parents at shops or playing in the playground. Even though he doesn’t show much love to the people around him, he somehow knows that he would shower his own child with love and affection. 

Severus decides not to go back to sleep. There are two hours until he must make his way to the Great Hall and he still has essays to grade. Anything to get his mind off the baby, though a small cauldron in the corner of his room ensures that the hole in his heart remains open.

XXX

Over the next few months, Severus has dreams about his child almost every night. In every dream, he watches her grow up, even if it’s by a month or two. Nothing particularly profound happens; they merely participate in average daily activities. Once he dreams that she plays with a toy wand set that emits tiny colorful sparks. Another time she sits on his lap as he reads to her and wrestles his hair from her tiny fingers. That one makes him feel especially pained as he’s always felt insecure about his hair, and he can’t imagine a baby happily playing with it. 

After a particularly hard day of disciplining dunderheads and spilled potions, another person joins his dreams. 

Muggle baby strollers are quite the invention, Severus thinks as he pushes his sleeping daughter around the main square of the nearest town. Stores here display all types of clothes, as well as chocolate boxes and snack bags; however, he doesn’t see anything suitable for his wife’s birthday. 

Finally, Severus spots a beautiful dark green pendant through a jewelry shop’s window. An idea pops into his mind about how he can transform this simple Muggle pendant into something enchanting for his wife.

He buys it, then spends the rest of the day locked in his study working on magically connecting the pendant and a journal. He charms the pendant to heat up and display messages Severus writes in the journal. This way, Severus can send short messages to his wife no matter where he is. “I love you,” he writes in the journal and watches it slowly appear on the green gem. 

“What do you think?” he asks his daughter when he enters the living room. She giggles and grasps the chain of the necklace, which Severus takes as a yes.

“One day, I will give you one of your own, my Half-Blood Princess.”

A wife. A wife whom he loves. A wife that loves him, too, even if he has no proof to support his theory. A wife who he loves enough to have a baby with. A wife who he knows he will never have. 

Since he started having these joyous nightmares, he has recognized that the existence of a wife would appear at some point. Though when she finally does, he’s caught off guard. He thought that as an adult, he would finally grow out of the nervous, insecure person he was as a child. But he’s thought wrong; a fist squeezes his heart as he thinks about how lonely and unlovable he is. His hand wanders to the pillow on the other side of the bed as he imagines a wife lying beside him. He wishes that he could hold her, kiss her, and love her. But who would ever be attracted to his oily hair and sallow skin, or not be appalled by his deeds as he served the Dark Lord? 

Tears have threatened to spill after waking from his past dreams. This time, though, the tears overtake him and sobs wrack his body. 

XXX

Steps sound from around the corner. Severus prepares to berate the student he catches, but he stops short when he spots you. “Hi Severus, you can go to bed. It’s my night to patrol the corridors, remember?” 

Severus doesn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, or anywhere for that matter. But out of the few people he can rely on, you are one of them. You frequently eat lunch with him and sit beside him for meals. You’re always there for him to talk to, though you aren’t pushy. He appreciates you more than you likely appreciate him.  

“I know,” he says a little too harshly. “I thought I should help since I could not sleep.” Do not want to sleep is more like it, he thinks. 

You don’t take offense to his harsh tone. “That’s nice of you. Are you having nightmares, perhaps? Are the ghosts in your dreams giving you too much grief?” You give him a gentle smile and Severus feels a warmth spreading over his body. 

“I consumed too much caffeine,” he lies. 

“Don’t I know the dangers of drinking too much tea before I go to bed.” 

You two patrol the corridors as he listens to your stories of catching students out of bed and making fools of themselves in class. He rather enjoys being in your presence, a warm welcome from his joyous nightmares. 

It seems too soon when your patrol is over and you head in different directions to return to your chambers. Determined not to fall asleep, Severus spends the rest of his time until breakfast grading essays. He has never physically seen his dream wife; he only writes to her or prepares dinner or breakfast for her. Unfortunately, his eyes feel too heavy and he eventually succumbs to sleep. 

It’s a beautiful day and Severus chases after his daughter, who runs through the valley outside their house. He finally catches up with her when she drops to the ground, picking at something. “I got you!” he yells after he grabs his daughter and lifts her into his arms. 

“Daddy!” she giggles and presents him with the flowers she has picked. “For you!”

He takes the bundle from her dirt-stained hands and smiles down at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He places her back down on the ground and kneels beside her. “How about you pick some for Mummy?”

“Okay!” His daughter runs around a little more until she picks the largest flowers in the valley and gives them to her dad for safekeeping. He lifts her back into his arms and walks towards the house. 

In the distance, he can see a woman by their house. He knows that it’s his wife, but the light from the setting sun and the shadow from the house blocks him from seeing her features. Severus uses one of his hands to shield his eyes from the sun glaring into his eyes and tells his daughter, “Wave to Mummy!”

Severus checks the time and jumps to his feet. He strains to discern the identity of his dream wife based on his memories of the dream but to no avail. He arrives at the Great Hall, takes his seat beside you at the High Table, and attempts to compose himself as he digs into his food. Why are you living under the delusion that this dream woman is a real person? Severus tells himself in his mind. If you ever see what she looks like, she will be an imaginary woman who only lives in your head. 

For a split second, Severus peeks at you from the corner of his eyes and imagines you as his wife blinded by the light from the sun. Deciding that it’s a dangerous path to take, he snaps out of it and goes back to nibbling his toast. 

You catch him looking at you and you ask, “Are you alright, Severus? You look like you didn’t get any sleep!” Oddly, he enjoys the concern in your voice and the furrowing of your brows. 

“I am fine,” he brushes off, but you’ve already poured him coffee and waved your wand at it. 

“Take this. It should get you through the rest of the day.” Severus grunts thanks and takes a sip. Normally, coffee makes him feel shaky and nervous as he unwittingly recalls his joyous nightmares. This coffee tastes different; it's sweet and makes him feel like he will stay awake and alert for the rest of the day. 

You talk to each other about your plans for the day until you finish your food and stand from your seat. “I’ll see you later!” you call from behind. For some indiscernible reason, Severus is looking forward to that. 

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 31: Important tasks

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Insecure MC / minor character death/ Nagini does a gobble gobble A/n: Last year y'all! The story is coming to an end :( [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Like a reflex, your eyes shoot open as the first water droplet hits the window. You glance at the glow-in-the-dark arms of the clock on your nightstand. 2:41 it reads. 

With your pillow under your arm, you paddle across the hallway, towards the end. You don't knock when you enter the bedroom and you can easily navigate around the furniture in the dark. Siding under the covers, you fluff up your pillow before pressing your face against Theo's back.

He hums, turning towards you and draping an arm over your middle. "What are you doing here?" His voice is low and drowsy.

You burrow yourself further into his embrace. "It's going to storm", is your simple answer. A sleepy laugh rumbles through his chest. It's the same answer you always give when you curl up next to him.

Because the truth is, despite being engaged to each other, you're not allowed to sleep in the same bed. They want little pure-blood Heirs of Slytherin running around, but not out of wedlock. 

Nonetheless, the two of you entangle your limbs and sleep almost every night together. 

And nobody says anything about it. They don't dare to. Somehow, you've instilled fear in the Dark Lord's followers by just existing. The one good thing about it is that they leave you alone. 

"There's another meeting today." You tuck your hands under your face and look at the dark-haired boy next to you. "Wormtail was sent to kidnap someone today. I've heard their screams when walking around the Manor."

A shiver runs down your spine. Theo says nothing, he tugs you on top of him and wraps both his arms protectively around you. "We have to be careful. Of everything we do", he whispers, his voice wavering. 

You say nothing, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. The two of you stay like this for hours until the sun shines through the windows and gives your face a golden glow.

Theo caresses your chin and cheek, tracing over the scar left behind by the Boy Who Lived. You turn your face away so he's no longer touching it. But Theo takes hold of your chin, forcing your face towards him. He tries to meet your eyes, but you keep them downcast.

"Listen... listen to me. Your pretty face and I are going to survive this. Do you understand me? And every scar, wound, or other injury, we're going to wear them with pride. Because we're survivors."

He gives you a look that tells you he's not messing around. A small smile blooms on your face, making Theo smile in return.

The mood at the table is tense. If it was not for the floating Hogwarts teacher, then is it for the fact that Snape is late and the Dark Lord is losing his patience. When the said man finally arrives, he takes place on the left side of the Dark Lord, his blank eyes meeting yours.

"You bring news, I trust."

"It will happen Saturday next at nightfall."

"I've heard differently, my Lord." Everybody's heads are turned to the other side. "Dawlish, the Auror let it slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month", Yaxley goes on, his hands clasped together. "The day before he turns seventeen."

Your eyes flicker to Theodore, who's between Yaxley and Nott Sr. Theo's eyes are focused on the blond man next to him.

"This is a false trail", interjects Snape, "The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter." Snape turns towards the Dark Lord, "those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."

A Death Eater pipes up. "Well, they've got that right haven't they?" A laugh rumbles through the room.

"What say you, Pius?"

The Imperiused man on the other side of the table focuses his glassy eyes to the best of his ability towards the Dark Lord. "One hears many things, my Lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear."

The Dark Lord lets out a chuckle. "Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, proven most useful, Pius." His attention flickers back to Snape. "Where will he be taken, the boy?"

You zone out. It's what you have noticed is most effective for keeping sane during all those meetings. You get pulled out of your trance for a moment as the kidnapped 'guest' in the cellar lets out a yell. But it's not until you feel the Dark Lord's hand trail over your shoulder that you pay attention again.

He stops next to Lucius, holding his hand out for him. "My Lord?", squeaks the blond man.

Voldemort mocks your uncle. He reaches his hand out, "I require your wand." Once he receives the wand, he snaps the ridiculous snake head off and throws it on the table.

He points the wand at the floating teacher, bringing her to a stop over the table. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined today by Miss Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts. Her speciality was Muggle Studies."

You look in fear as the Death Eaters around you laugh mockingly. you know Professor Burbage, very well in fact. Muggle Studies was one of the ways you defied your family's ways. 

"It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles... are not so different from us. She would, given her way, have us mate with them."

His speech falls on deaf ears. Your breathing has picked up as you look with big, scared eyes at your Professor. One of your most beloved professors. Her face is morphed in pain as her body is contorted in strange ways. Your bottom lip trembles as she locks eyes with you before moving on to Snape.

You can see her lips move, begging for her life, but the words don't register. With a quick green flash, her dead corpse falls on the table. Professor Burbuga's lifeless eyes stare at you, a tear rolling out of her eye.

"Nagini... dinner."

The snake slithers up the table, through your legs. Everybody pulls their hands away from the table as she makes her way towards the teacher. She opens her jaws and pounces upon the body, ripping her to shreds.

"Young mister Nott." 

Your head snaps from the Dark Lord to the now pale-as-a-sheet Theo. He gives you a look before focussing on the man at the head of the table. "Y... yes, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord has a small sadistic smile on his face. "You are expected to join us, next Saturday in the capture of Harry Potter."

Theodore swallows. "Of course, my Lord. It will be an honour."

"Am I also to join?", you ask, finding your voice.

But the Dark Lord shakes his head. "No, my Heir. I have a far more important task for you."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

December 19: Hope

Severus Snape x Reader

Severus was left comatose by Nagini's attack. You've been by his side ever since. Holding out hope he would come back to you.

(We've been drowning in fluff. Here's a touch of angst for day 19 of @deepperplexity 's Rickmas 2023.

It had been eight months. Eight months since you’d found Severus’s body in the boathouse, since you had found the faintest traces of life still clinging to him. Eight months since the healers at St Mungo’s had declared that he was in a deep coma, from which they couldn’t wake him. You had visited him every day, many times falling asleep in the chair by his bed in the middle of the night. The healers had long since become used to your presence. They didn’t ask you to leave anymore when visiting hours were over. Those times when you were away from his side, you were helping Harry to clear his name. It had not been easy. While few were willing to argue with the young hero of the Wizarding world, making them truly believe that Severus Snape was truly a hero took some pushing. But you had done it.

December 19th. Over eight months. The hour was late, and you were by his bedside as always. You had put some holly garlands up around the room. It was believed that holly offered protection against dark magic. You had even whispered to the holly as you set some on the table by his bed, “Please bring him back to me.”

You were sat in a char besides his bed, as you were every night, reading out loud from another book. You knew Severus had a secret liking for muggle classics, it was something you shared. You heard the door open quietly and turned to see Zelah, one of the healers, enter the room with a cup in her hands. “Thought you could benefit from some tea, dear.” She said, setting the cup on the bedside table. You smiled, tiredly, and thanked her. You and Zelah had built a friendship over the months, “How are you fairing?” She asked. “I don’t know.” You answered, rubbing at your tired eyes, “I’m scared.” You couldn’t voice your deepest fears, that he wouldn’t ever wake up, saying that out loud felt like manifesting it into existence. Just the thought of it made your insides churn and heart ache with pain so sharp you wanted to scream. Zelah put her hand on your shoulder, “You have to hold onto hope. We still don’t know how he survived. Something’s keeping him holding onto life. You can’t loose hope. I know he can feel you here and something tells me it’s helping.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze, “I have to do my rounds. I’ll check in later.” “Thank you, Zelah.”

After she left, you put the book down, eyes too tired to read anymore. Leaning forward, you took Severus’s hand in yours, pressing a kiss to his fingers before settling your joined hands back on the bed. “I will never give up on you, Severus.” You said, your voice cracking with gathering tears, “And you have fought so hard. But I need you to win one more fight. I need you to wake up. I need you to come back to me. We’re finally free, Sev. We can make a life now, we can go home. And I’m not going home without you. So you have to wake up.” Tears were slipping down your face. Things would not end like this. Not after everything he’d been through, after everything you’d been through together. You laid your head down next to his hand, your eyes drooping. Almost asleep when you felt it. Severus’s fingers tightening around yours.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope who reads this enjoys it! I have some nice fluff and comfort due for Severus tomorrow, but I had to do this one.

[aurevoiralways]

A rare traditional art Vincent hehehe. And my attempt at Snape's scar after surviving Nagini.

I've been forgetting to post my art 😭

[moonychildxd]

Just a quick sketch of my ship :3 , in this au snape survives nagini but becomes mute and Jude (my oc , im still working on their story ) helps him adapt to his condition ,and they learn sign language together 💖

[saintsenara]

Opinions on Tonks/Snape?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

here's where i confess that i've got quite a soft spot for stonks as a ship - and not just because of that ship name - because it's a great vehicle for one of my favourite post-war questions: how the hell do you put a life together in peacetime if you never expected to have survived the final battle?

that this would apply to snape is obvious - it's pretty clear in canon that [much like harry] his experience of the entire period 1981-1998 is that he's following a script written for him by dumbledore which he believes [and, i suspect, hopes] will end in his own annihilation. while i don't think he imagines dying in the exact way he does [and while a hill i will die on is that dumbledore tried as best as he could to arrange things so that snape would survive], i think the only post-war survival scenario he envisions for himself is a lifetime rotting in azkaban, continuing to punish himself and consider himself unworthy of absolution for his role in lily's death.

but - perhaps more controversially - i also think that this can be said to apply to tonks. while i would absolutely reject the suggestion that she would have imagined herself dying because she was a bad mother, i think that several things she says in deathly hallows - above all her recognition that she's locked into a battle to the death with bellatrix - would lead to her sharing the view lupin's shade expresses to harry when he summons him with the resurrection stone: that the greatest act of love she can show her son is to die for a world in which he can live freely.

[and i also think - indeed i am convinced of it - that she also thinks it's her duty to die trying to off bellatrix because her decision to join the order means that andromeda and ted's safety in the first war - something voldemort can be plausibly said to grant at bellatrix's request on the proviso that they keep their heads down and their mouths shut - is forfeit in the second.]

the post-war tonks - a widow at twenty-five, navigating life as a single mother to a tiny baby, dealing with her own cavernous grief over the loss of her father and her mother's grief over the loss of her husband - can be written about really interestingly as someone who's unmoored within her new life and looking for something - anything - to anchor herself.

and a snape who survives nagini is a really interesting tool in all sorts of post-war ships [snarry and snack chief among them] in how he serves as a connection to a lost generation. and, in this case, he is the only person tonks will know who - no matter how negative his assessment of him - actually knew lupin well.

and it's so clear that tonks' relationship with lupin in canon was shaped by her searching for answers about him which he kept hidden behind the mask of his own self-loathing. i can absolutely see her being devastated at the knowledge that his death means that she finds herself with no chance of ever actually uncovering the reality of him, and i can see this leading her to snape's hospital bedside out of a desire to grasp at someone - anyone - who might help her fill in those gaps.

but tonks is also clearly very bolshy and very brave - two traits you need to help you survive grieving the loss of one love and still have room to chase after another.

she's also clearly very curious and very kind. and so i think she's the order member - other than harry - who would be most able to accept the fact that snape was on their side all along and to believe that he should be pardoned. i think snape would find that show of trust in him terrifying - obviously - and i think he'd go out of his way to push her away as a result. but she's got plenty of prior experience at dealing with emotionally constipated men...

and i think you can make a very credible case for the idea that snape must genuinely quite like tonks. i think it's often overlooked just how clever she must be to be admitted as an auror, and how one of the areas in which she would have been required to be clever was potions. she's also clearly one of the youngest people in the role, and her position as a junior auror who ends up doing far more for the war effort than many of her seniors mirrors snape's experience as the youngest teacher at hogwarts. i also think her shock at just how horrible to her snape is in half-blood prince when he mocks her new patronus can be read as evidence that, during the order of the phoenix timeline, she and snape had a cordial relationship. and cordial for snape is transcendentally fond for anyone else...

[plus, his disappointment in her being interested in lupin is clearly because she's someone he respects - if he didn't think she was far too good for lupin, he wouldn't have bothered saying anything.]

i genuinely think you can do something lovely with the two of them initially coming together because they view the other as a life raft in a world they don't think really belongs to them, but then something which looks a lot like dry - and stable - land coming into view as they realise they have more than that in common.

snape's terrified, obviously, but tonks is a woman who understands how to go with the flow. she'll follow love where it takes her - no matter the obstacles she finds in the way - and he's going to have no choice but to come along for the ride.

[into-the-midst]

Mortal Temples of a King

Sequel to Within the Hollow Crown Rating: M Tags: Draco Malfoy, Lord Voldemort, Nagini, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Drarry, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Ultra Slowburn, Objectification, Torture Summary: After refusing Harry’s offer of escape, Draco returns home, where he is thrown into the life of a Death Eater. Scarred, looked down on, and terrified, Draco focuses on his assignments while navigating the complex dynamics within Malfoy Manor. But when he fails to prove himself, everything he is and everything he has is stripped away, forcing Draco into drastic choices for not just his own, but everyone’s survival.

A canon-divergence of Deathly Hallows.

Read here!

[mauveberries]

the reason i think tomarrymort is a predator-prey relationship is because in reality, if you look at it completely objectively, harry is just an obstacle voldemort has to beat down. he is not an equal enemy. it's really not that deep. put down your pitchforks, let me explain.

obviously, they are enemies in the way that they stand for opposing ideologies. so it is an enemies to lovers dynamic, but it isn't THE enemies to lovers dynamic. they just don't have enough history to be portrayed as arch enemies in my opinion. that title goes to dumbledore.

you have voldemort, who is a terrifying warlord who has brought britain to its knees. he has stricken fear all over the world. people are afraid to say his name. and then you have harry, who is powerful in his own way, he is a decent wizard and is considered voldemort's enemy by a prophecy.

voldemort, in his paranoia and fear, decided to kill this toddler who is considered his enemy and ends up without a body. as you can already tell, there is a maaajor power imbalance here, it's laughable that voldemort lost to a baby. because of this, he has to spend 13 years as a wraith without a body. that is probably one of the most traumatizing things he has probably went through. obviously, when he recovers, he becomes even more irrational. he makes another horcrux, he considers harry as a real threat because he thinks harry's power did that.

we, as the readers know that the last statement is untrue. canonically, it was lily's love that protected harry. not some magical power harry possessed when he was a toddler, but because lily loved him so much that voldemort's soul was split apart again and he was left in agony.

then, harry grows up. he is a bright student. he is good at DADA, he sucks at history, he is powerful enough to cast patronuses. but overall, he is mediocre. we don't see him having a thirst to learn, we don't see him actively seeking out ways to destroy voldemort, we don't see him taking his occlumency lessons seriously. (rightfully, because snape was being an ass) but overall, he doesn't go out of his way to do anything significant. he's just trying to survive. but that doesn't mean he is not brave. when he's put on the spot, he faces voldemort and hardly runs.

but overall, he is not in control of the grand scheme of things. dumbledore is the one orchestrating voldemort's downfall behind the scenes. harry is just a particulary shiny pawn needed to win the chess game, but the queen is still dumbledore. sure, harry is scene forming the da in book 5 and sure, he goes on the hunt in the seventh book, but that is only because voldemort is actively pursuing him. do you see it now?

yes, you could say harry would have graduated and fought against voldemort but... so would everyone else. there is an entire order dedicated to fighting against voldemort, harry isn't special.

harry is only significant to voldemort because of the prophecy, without it, he will always be a no one to voldemort. you can't disagree with this, because if you do, you should be prepared to ship neville with voldemort because he could have been the chosen one, but the prophecy wasn't about him. he fought alongside harry, too. he slit nagini's throat, and yet voldemort barely pays attention to him.

you can say harry isn't prey-material because he fights back. but that is because he's been put on the spot. he has no where to escape at all. harry never instigates any of their fights, they are not on equal footing. they can therefore, never truly be equals opposing each other, simply because harry does not have the expertise to hold his own against voldemort. the prophecy labels them equals, but is this ever truly portrayed? no! voldemort literally has a piece of his soul inside harry, it's like he partially owns harry already. they were never equals to begin with. if jkr truly wanted to portray them as equal enemies, she should have given harry more credit. he is never anywhere near as powerful as tom riddle. she shouldn't have had dumbledore providing all the info, she shouldn't have had harry be a martyr-like figure who has to sacrifice himself to save the world, she shouldn't have made harry win based on pure luck.

the only reason harry won was because of voldemort's irrationality and harry's plot armour.

[muiitoloko]

I looooved the daddy severus fanfic aaaaghhhh ❤️ but now can we have what he needed to do to have the baby lol

Breeding kink severus PLEASE!!! Xx

Title: A Second Chance

Summary: Surviving the war was only the beginning for Severus Snape. With your love, he learns to embrace life, finding comfort in the thought of a future that includes a family of his own.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: I'm so glad you loved the Daddy Severus fanfic! ❤️ And I couldn't resist your request, so I went ahead with the breeding kink idea—but decided to keep it light and wrote a completely new one-shot instead. Don't worry, it's more on the sweet side, nothing too kinky 😅. Hope you enjoy this one just as much! xx

Also read on Ao3

Severus Snape never imagined he would survive the war, let alone find himself married years after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. In truth, he hadn't even expected to live past the moment Nagini's fangs had torn into his throat. The pain had been excruciating, but it was fleeting—quickly overtaken by the cold, creeping numbness of death. He had welcomed it, that final escape from a life filled with darkness and deceit. Everything had gone black, and he thought that was the end.

But death had not come for Severus Snape that day. Instead, he had awoken to the sterile smell of potions and the clinical brightness of the Hogwarts infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey's stern face hovering above him, muttering incantations and administering salves to his ravaged neck. She had told him that the war was over, that Voldemort was defeated, and in those first few moments of lucidity, Snape had wanted nothing more than to slip back into unconsciousness. He had nothing left to live for, after all. But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

Snape had been in a coma for two long years—two years during which the wizarding world had moved on without him, during which he had been declared a hero by none other than Harry Potter, the boy he had once loathed. Potter, in his infinite idiocy, had come forward with memories—his memories—evidence that Snape had been working as a double agent, risking everything to protect the son of the woman he had loved more than life itself. It was Potter’s testimony that had spared Snape from Azkaban, and it was Potter who had ensured that he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and hailed as a hero in the aftermath of the war.

Snape thought bitterly of that fool of a boy now, sitting in the grand sitting room of one of the Prince family’s old mansions. The house had been passed down to him as the last living heir of the Prince family, a lineage he had long since stopped caring about. His mother’s bloodline had never brought him anything but misery, and yet here he was, a reluctant beneficiary of the wealth and status he had once despised. He rubbed the large scar on his neck, the mark left by Nagini’s fangs a constant reminder of how close he had come to death. It barely allowed him to speak without pain, a daily torment that was only mitigated by the potions and treatments he had to endure.

And that was where you came in.

You had been sent by St. Mungo’s on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, assigned to take care of Snape’s throat, which often swelled and caused him intense pain at random times. The venom of Nagini had remained in his bloodstream, a sinister reminder of the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. Snape hadn’t wanted you there. In those first few days, he had made every effort to drive you away, using every tactic at his disposal—scathing remarks, icy glares, and, when words failed him, the sheer force of his silent, menacing presence. But you hadn’t been intimidated. You had insisted on staying, refusing to leave despite his best efforts to scare you off. You were patient, determined, and unfailingly kind—qualities that Snape found both infuriating and, inexplicably, disarming.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things began to change between the two of you. Perhaps it was the day he had tried to intimidate you with a particularly venomous glare, only to find that you met his gaze with calm resolve, refusing to back down. He had pressed you against the wall in a fit of frustration, intending to finally break through that maddening composure, but instead, he had found himself kissing you—fiercely, desperately, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. That kiss had quickly turned into something more—something that left you both breathless and shaken, your bodies entwined in a feverish, almost primal need.

Months had passed since that first heated encounter, and somehow, through a series of events that still seemed surreal to him, Snape had found himself married to you. He looked down at the simple, yet elegant ring on his finger, a symbol of a life he had never imagined for himself. The ring was one he had chosen himself, purchased with the money he had saved over the years as a professor—years of putting up with those insufferable, brainless children. The irony of it all was not lost on him. Severus Snape, the cold, unyielding Potions Master, now had a wife, a home, and a life that was, in many ways, far more normal than he had ever thought possible.

He had thought he would hate it—the domesticity, the mundanity of it all. But as he sat in the quiet of the old manor, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he realized that he didn’t hate it. Not at all. In fact, he found a strange sort of peace in it—a peace he hadn’t known in decades, if ever. It was a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, he had somehow found a place in this world—a place with you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, and he looked up to see you entering the room, a soft smile on your face as you made your way over to him. You were dressed simply, yet elegantly, your presence filling the room with a warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to, but which he had come to cherish nonetheless.

“Severus,” you greeted him, your voice soft and soothing as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged slightly, the familiar discomfort in his throat a dull throb that he had long since learned to ignore. “As well as can be expected,” he replied, his voice low and rough, a result of the lingering effects of the venom.

You nodded, your expression one of understanding and quiet concern as you reached out to gently touch his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I’m glad,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his chest tighten. “You know, you don’t have to bear this burden alone. I’m here, Severus. I’ll always be here.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in, filling the empty spaces in his heart that he had long thought would remain void. He had spent so many years alone, so many years building walls around himself to keep others out, that it still felt strange—unnatural, even—to have someone who cared about him, who wanted to share in his burdens.

But you were here, in his life, in his home, and he had somehow, against all odds, found himself falling for you in a way he hadn’t believed was possible. You had been a light in the darkness, a beacon that had guided him back to the land of the living when all he had wanted was to fade into oblivion.

“I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he looked down at your hand in his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way that nothing else could. “And I’m… grateful.”

You smiled at that, a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face, and for a moment, Snape felt something stir within him—something that had been dormant for far too long. It was a warmth, a flicker of hope, of love, that he had thought he would never feel again.

Without another word, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with all the affection and tenderness that you had brought into his life. Snape closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation, to savor the moment, the connection between you.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him with a quiet intensity, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to understand the depth of what he was feeling. And in that moment, Snape realized that you did understand—that you knew him better than anyone ever had, perhaps even better than he knew himself.

“I love you, Sev,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “I always will.”

But Severus Snape had never been one for grand declarations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The words I love you felt foreign on his tongue, weighed down by the years of pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. Instead, he preferred to convey his feelings through subtle gestures, through actions that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight, he intended to show you just how much you meant to him.

Without a word, Snape leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss, one that was slow and deliberate, full of a restrained passion that he had kept buried for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a careful intensity, as if he was savoring every moment, every sensation. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his long, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer to him.

You responded eagerly, your body leaning into his as the kiss grew more heated, more urgent. Snape’s other hand found its way to your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you onto his lap, your dress rustling softly as you straddled him. The fabric of his dark robes brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body.

When he finally broke the kiss, his breathing was slightly uneven, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that you had rarely seen before. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, his gaze piercing through you as if he was trying to convey all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape’s hands moved to the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the soft fabric as he slowly pushed it up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. He let out a low, almost inaudible groan as he felt the warmth of your body against his, the sight of you on his lap stirring something primal within him.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper as he traced the outline of your hips with his hands, his touch possessive yet reverent. It wasn’t quite I love you, but it carried the same weight, the same depth of emotion. It was his way of claiming you, of letting you know that you belonged to him in every sense of the word.

You shivered at his touch, your own hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric of his robes. His grip on you tightened slightly as he pulled you even closer, pressing your body against his as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a clear indication of just how much he wanted you.

“Severus…” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as you felt his lips ghosting over your throat, leaving a trail of soft, heated kisses in their wake.

Snape didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hands slipping beneath your dress, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine before moving lower, cupping your ass and giving it a possessive squeeze. His lips found their way back to yours, capturing them in another deep, fervent kiss as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that his cock was perfectly aligned with your entrance, the heat of your arousal palpable through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Snape’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes boring into yours as he uttered a single, hoarse word: “Bedroom.” The command was rough, almost strangled, a reminder of the ever-present pain that laced his throat. You could see the discomfort etched into the lines of his face, a sharp pang of concern shooting through you. Was he okay? Was the pain too much for him? But before you could voice your worries, Snape dismissed them with a hard, determined look. He wasn’t going to let anything interrupt this moment.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as you clung to him. His strength surprised you, the lean muscles beneath his robes belying the quiet power he possessed. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, straining through the fabric of his impeccably tailored trousers. The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fire in your belly.

He moved with purpose, carrying you down the dimly lit hallway of the old manor, his long robes billowing around him like shadows. The silence between you was thick, charged with the unspoken desires that had been building between you for months. Snape’s grip on you was firm, possessive, his hands settling on the curve of your ass as he held you close. The tension in the air was palpable, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

When he finally reached the bedroom, Snape pushed the door open with a gentle nudge of his foot, striding inside without hesitation. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The bed—a grand, four-poster affair draped in rich, dark fabrics—stood at the center of the room, an inviting haven amidst the darkness.

Without breaking his stride, Snape crossed the room and laid you down on the bed, his movements careful but deliberate. The mattress dipped under your weight as you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, his tall, lean figure imposing and commanding, his dark robes making him look every bit the cold, enigmatic man you had first met. But now, there was something more in his eyes—a burning need, a primal desire that he could no longer suppress.

Snape’s hands moved to the clasp of his robes, his fingers deftly undoing it before he shrugged off the heavy fabric, letting it pool on the floor at his feet. He remained silent, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The pale, angular planes of his chest were revealed inch by inch, the faint scars and the dark trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers only adding to his rugged appeal.

Your mouth went dry as you watched him, your pulse quickening with each piece of clothing he shed. By the time he reached the waistband of his trousers, you were practically trembling with anticipation, your body aching with the need to feel him against you.

Snape didn’t rush. Instead, he paused, his fingers lingering on the waistband of his trousers as he looked down at you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, roughened by both his desire and the ever-present pain in his throat.

“I’m going to fill you,” he rasped, the words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. His expression was one of pure, unbridled lust, his eyes locked on yours as he added, “I’m going to put a baby inside you.”

The raw, primal promise in his words left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as heat pooled between your thighs. You could feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to his words in a way that was utterly instinctive. Snape’s eyes flickered with satisfaction as he noticed your reaction, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your ankle, pulling you toward the edge of the bed with a firm, steady grip. You let out a soft gasp as your back arched, your dress riding up higher, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. Snape’s hand slid up your calf, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through you as he pushed your dress up, revealing the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding, a dark edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, your hands trembling slightly as you reached down to slip the dress over your head. The fabric pooled on the floor beside the bed, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Snape’s gaze raked over your body, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the roughness of his voice. His hand moved to your hip, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your underwear before slipping beneath the fabric. The feel of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he caressed you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You moaned softly as his fingers found your wetness, your body arching into his touch. Snape’s gaze was fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved his fingers with a practiced precision, teasing you with light, feathering touches that left you gasping for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as you looked up at him. “Yes, Severus, please.”

Snape’s smirk widened at your desperate plea, his hand leaving your core to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider. He moved between them, his trousers slipping down to reveal his throbbing erection, the sight of it making your mouth water with desire.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your wet folds as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. The sensation was electric, his lips moving against yours with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you dizzy. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely restrained need that pulsed through every inch of his body.

With a low growl, Snape pushed inside you, the thick length of him stretching you to the brink as he buried himself to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it as he filled you completely. You could feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the raw power in the way he moved.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and measured, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Snape’s gaze never wavered, his eyes locked on yours as he claimed you with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he drove into you with a primal, almost savage need. “Mine to fuck, mine to fill…mine to breed.”

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as you let out a low, breathy moan. Snape’s hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you against him with each thrust, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Snape’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless chant, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove you closer to the edge.

Snape's breath was ragged as he buried himself inside you, his trousers bunched up around his ankles, trapped by the boots he hadn't bothered to remove. It didn’t matter to him—nothing mattered now except the primal, driving need to fill you, to claim you in the most profound and intimate way. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead as he hovered above you, his pale, angular face set in a mask of intense concentration and desire.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge, to ensure that every inch of him was felt within you. His normally stoic expression was marred only slightly by the flicker of pain that crossed his features when he dared to speak. The venomous scars on his neck, the constant reminder of his near brush with death, flared in protest with every word. But his voice—deep, roughened by the damage to his throat—slipped out when he could no longer contain the twisted fantasies that had consumed him.

“Mine,” he rasped, the single word filled with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place as he thrust into you again, harder this time, his need taking over. “You’re mine.”

The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the soft crackling of the fire the only other noise breaking the silence. His boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, driving into you with a relentless pace that left no room for doubt about his intentions. The weight of his body pinned you beneath him, the full force of his need pressing down on you.

His mind was filled with images—visions of you swollen with his child, your body heavy with the life he’d put inside you. The thought only spurred him on, fueling the dark hunger that had taken root within him. He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye—a little girl, with your beauty and his cunning, a powerful witch who would carry on the legacy he had never thought he would pass on.

“You’ll give me a daughter,” he whispered hoarsely, the words a struggle, each one tinged with the pain it caused him to speak. But he had to say it, had to let you know the depths of his desire. His fingers dug into your skin as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You’ll carry her, and she’ll be perfect…just like you.”

The idea of breeding you, of seeing you swollen with his child, made him almost desperate in his movements. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal precision that left you gasping, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

His breathing was labored, the strain of holding back the pain of speaking clear in the way his chest heaved, but he couldn’t stop now. His fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as he watched the effect it had on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled beneath him. It was intoxicating, knowing that he had this power over you, that he could bring you to the brink of ecstasy with just a few well-placed touches.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “Round and full…carrying my child. My daughter.” His eyes were locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as he thrust into you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll protect you…both of you…no one will ever hurt you.”

His words were rough, almost growled out between clenched teeth as the fire within him built to a fever pitch. He was close, so close, and he could feel you tightening around him, the telltale signs of your impending climax pushing him even further.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and commanding despite the strain. “I want to feel you…want to feel you fall apart around me.”

You were helpless to resist him, your body obeying his every command as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Your climax hit you hard, your entire body tensing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Snape watched you, his gaze dark and intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with a final, powerful thrust.

He could feel you convulsing around him, the tight, wet heat of your climax pulling him over the edge with you. He let out a low, guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding you with a heat that seemed to burn through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the faint rustle of the sheets as Snape remained still above you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of catching his breath. His dark hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips rough and warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one final time, his voice barely more than a breath. “And you’ll give me everything.”

His words hung in the air, a promise, a vow, as he slowly pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness almost jarring after the intensity of what had just passed between you. He laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he held you tightly, as if afraid to let you go.

In the silence that followed, Snape closed his eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. But even as sleep began to take him, the thought of you carrying his child—his daughter—brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape allowed himself to hope for the future.

After the intensity of your shared moment had begun to settle, you found yourself recovering faster than Severus, whose chest still heaved as he fought to catch his breath. His dark eyes were closed, his pale face flushed with the remnants of passion, and his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. For a brief moment, you simply watched him, your heart swelling with a deep, unspoken affection. It was in these quiet moments, after the storm of his desire had passed, that you felt closest to him—that you saw the man behind the formidable exterior, vulnerable and human.

You moved gently, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the scarred skin of his neck, your lips lingering just above the spot where Nagini's fangs had once pierced him. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation, and he looked down at you with a mixture of exhaustion and something that might have been tenderness, though he would never admit it aloud. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if he might protest your ministrations, but you silenced him with a look, your eyes conveying a wordless command.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, your voice soft yet firm as you began to reach down, your hands deftly unfastening the boots that had remained stubbornly on his feet. Snape tried to protest, his brows knitting together in irritation at the thought of you taking care of him, but the protest died on his lips when you fixed him with a pointed stare.

“Be quiet, Severus,” you instructed gently, though there was no mistaking the steel behind your words. “Let me do this.”

For once, he complied, his lips pressing into a thin line as he allowed you to help him. It was an act of trust, a rare thing for him, and you didn’t take it lightly. You removed his boots with care, followed by the trousers that had bunched awkwardly around his ankles, your fingers brushing against his skin as you worked. Despite the lingering heat between you, your touch was tender, almost reverent, as you undressed him, revealing the lean, angular planes of his body that were usually hidden beneath his dark, forbidding robes.

When you were finished, you summoned your wand with a simple flick of your wrist, casting a quiet cleaning charm over the two of you. The warm, tingling sensation of the magic swept away the remnants of your passion, leaving you both feeling refreshed, though the intimate connection between you remained unbroken.

You returned to his side, snuggling against him with a contented sigh, your head resting on his chest as you traced lazy patterns on his skin with your fingertips. Snape’s arm wrapped around you almost instinctively, his long fingers threading through your hair as he held you close. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that calmed your own.

Lifting your head slightly, you rested your chin on his chest, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous glint. “At this rate, we’ll have a baby soon,” you remarked with a teasing smile, your tone light despite the weight of your words. “You’ve practically made love to me every day since I mentioned you’d be a great father.”

A faint flush colored Snape’s cheeks, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you couldn’t be sure. His gaze flickered with a mix of emotions—desire, uncertainty, and something deeper, something almost fragile. You knew that the idea of fatherhood had taken root in his mind, had sparked a longing that he hadn’t fully realized until you had voiced it aloud.

“It… seems to have stuck in my head,” he admitted gruffly, his voice low and rough as he avoided your gaze, his fingers still gently tangled in your hair. “The idea of… breeding you, of putting babies inside you… it… it turns me on to no end.”

There was a vulnerability in his admission, a raw honesty that was rare for him, and it made your heart ache with affection for the man who had always kept his true self hidden beneath layers of cold detachment. You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his neck as you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. “And I’d be honored to carry your child… our child.”

Snape’s breath hitched at your words, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the truth in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reverent. “You… would?”

You nodded, your smile widening as you rested your forehead against his, your heart swelling with love for the man who had once believed himself incapable of it. “Of course. There’s no one else I’d want to share this with… no one else I’d trust with this.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of Snape’s lips, and he let out a shaky breath as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a possessive tenderness that spoke volumes. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future, but for a future with you, a future where he could be the man, the husband, and the father he had never believed he could be.

As you lay together in the quiet of the old manor, the fire in the hearth casting a warm glow over your entwined bodies, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace that came from knowing that, despite everything, you had found each other. And as Snape’s hand drifted to rest on your abdomen, his fingers splayed over your skin in a gesture that was both protective and tender, you knew that the love you shared would be enough to carry you through whatever came next.

[racfoam]

🫧 Rac’s Masterlist Of Snippets 🫧

(last updated: 6th April, 2023)

BTS Dh Part 2

nynn snippets

graveyard add-on

what-if, Voldemort kisses Harry on the graveyard (Read the Warnings!)

Hermione Defending Harry (4th Year)

nynn Harry meets Movie Voldemort (Graveyard)

Voldemort licks Harry’s wound (Graveyard)

Sirius’ reaction to Harry crushing on Cedric

Cedric gives Harry clue about the egg + Moody reacting to Hedric

Fred & George’s nickname for Voldemort

Voldemort Faces The Dursleys Pt 2 (what-if)

Voldemort shows Harry he can fly

Harry dreaming of Voldemort

Harry’s Letter 1

Harry’s Letter 2

Sirius' reaction to Harrymort getting together

Harry & Voldemort Summer of 6th Year

Harry hears Voldemort laugh

Harry & Bellatrix Ministry fight (5th Year SPOILERS)

Harry under Amortentia (6th Year)

Harry almost gets attacked by McLaggen, Voldemort & Ron team up (6th Year)

Harry & Voldemort, Harry & Slughorn (6th Year)

Scene with Mirrors (SPOILERS)

old fashion vs new fashion

no towels, walk naked (SPOILER for 7th Year)

Flashback Scene - Slughorn Meets Voldemort after he was refused the DADA position (6th Year)

Harry & Voldemort talking about Slughorn, Slughorn is the father that STEPPED UP 😤 (6th Year)

Harry high on Liquid Luck (6th Year)

Voldemort calling Harry beautiful (SPOILERS 5th Year)

Harry being beautiful (6th Year)

McLaggen eyeing Harry during Quidditch Practice (6th Year)

Harry vs Snape (SPOILERS 6th Year)

Harry asking Voldemort for help with homework through the soul bond (5th Year)

Harry using the soul bond during Potions (5th Year)

McGonagall murdering Umbridge (5th Year)

Hedwig is accepting bribery

King's Cross Meeting

Harry talks to Sirius after the Atrium (SPOILER)

Voldemort & Barty (SPOILER)

Slughorn hugs Harry (short)

Harry & Sirius during Ministry fight (short)

Fred & George teasing Harry

Two Apples (SPOILER)

Harry's Quotes in 5th Year (SPOILER)

Death Eaters (SPOILER)

The Quaffle Incident (SPOILER)

Harry dreaming about kisses (SPOILER)

Bellatrix meets Harry

what Slytherin Locket is doing during nynn

Voldemort & Dumbledore Face Off Atrium (SPOILERS)

“I lie to myself.” (SPOILERS)

Harry asks Voldemort about his anatomy

Harry & Voldemort 6th Year Summer

Harrymort cuddles (6th Year)

Muttons (be proud)

Reference Pictures for Voldemort in nynn

Fem Harry Reference Pictures

nynn Deathly Hallows AU

escape from Ministry

Harry going into the Forbidden Forest

"I'll blow it up!" The Trio

Nagini in Godric's Hollow + nynn Voldemort stealing cupcakes

Harry flying on Ili

Seven Potters Polyjuice Scene

Dursleys packing + fight at Malfoy Manor

Harry's no good 17th Birthday

Harry & Hedwig after sky chase, Harry is so done with everything

Voldemort & Death Eaters celebrate Harry's homecoming

nynn Voldemort raises Harry AU Masterlist

nynn Lily & James alive AU

Harry is too chill and very hungry after dementor attack + Lily & Harry heartwarming scene

James & Harry

future son-in-law

all the times Voldemort calls James dad, and the time James calls Voldemort son

nynn James survives, Voldemort Wins AU

nynn Lily survives, Voldemort wins AU

nynn Professor Gaunt

pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

pt 4

snowball fight

Gaunt gets jealous

Harry finds out Gaunt is Voldemort

pt 6 kiss™

nynn Same Age, growing up together & 1st Wizarding War

Tom & Harry’s first meeting written by Anon

Tom sneaks into Harry's dormitory

Harry & Voldemort moments during 1st Wizarding War

Lily & James discussing whether the Dark Lord has a wife

when Voldemort & Harry argue

Voldemort tells Harry about the Prophecy

Halloween 1981

Dolohov returns with baby Voldemort in 1983

Voldemort decides not to kill Harrison

Harry & Voldemort raising Harrison (angst)

Harrison says his first words

Harrison meets Hermione (Harmione)

Harry & Voldemort + 17-year-old Harrison going to meet Hermione's parents

last thought, last breath

- Canon Compliant, Harry surrenders in Forbidden Forest, Voldemort discovers Harry is a Horcrux, Captive Harry, Dark Fic

Narcissa is too sober for this

Harry tries to get drunk, Voldemort stops her

The Dark Lord wants his birthday gift (Mature themes)

your fingers seek mine (Masterlist)

generousity - Harry Time-Travels to 1st Wizarding War AU (Masterlist)

[gertrudepetronella-blog]

Just some prison!snape headcanons (because I'm stuck with my writing):

Snape survives Nagini, but is arrested for war crimes.

He recieves a reduced sentence due to his role as a spy.

There are no Dementors at Azkaban now, and there have been some prison reforms (cause let's face it, it was pretty barbaric before - human rights what?)

Within six months Snape is baically running the joint.

He has shit on everyone (including the warden).

Rats out the worst inmates, but somehow still gets people to trust him.

But everyone is shit scared of him too.

He keeps most of the prisoners in line just with his cutting insults.

When a new prisoner is admitted first they meet the warden etc. then they are taken to meet "the boss".

He gets the odd visitor from outside, but doesn't meet with them for long and is always curt. Still he manages to persuade (/guilt) them into bringing him stuff.

The warden can't work out how he keeps getting his hands on cauldrons no matter how many times he confiscates them, and eventually just gives in and lets him have a whole brewing room.

[snowyslytherinowl]

Joyous Nightmares - Part 3

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: A year after surviving the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape begins to have joyous nightmares where he dreams of having a wife and a daughter. These dreams bring him nightmares because he doesn't believe that he'll ever get married or have a family of his own. So what happens when the wife in his dreams is revealed to be you?

Warning: Nothing graphic, but Severus’s near-fatal attack by Nagini is described. Angst and nightmares once more. 

Part 1 | Part 2

*GIF isn't mine, unsure of credit

Sleep overcomes an unwilling Severus that night. Dreams also invade his sleep since his dreamless sleep potions haven’t finished brewing. 

Nighttime approaches as Severus walks down the path toward Hagrid’s hut. He wonders if his daughter had fun with the gamekeeper that day. His question is answered when the door of the hut bursts open and she comes running towards him. For a five-year-old, she runs amazingly fast. 

“Daddy, Daddy! Hagrid showed me unicorns and hippogriffs!” she shouts. Practically launching herself at his legs, she grasps the fabric of his trousers and points at Buckbeak. “He let me pet Buckbeak too!” The gamekeeper emerges from the hut and approaches the pair, smiling. 

“Oi, Professor Snape! Sorry. I didn' mean ter let her run out o' the house, tha' one.” he apologizes. “Yer daughter is a sweet little girl.”

 “Thank you for watching her and showing her your creatures, Hagrid. She has been excited to play with the live versions of her toys for a long time.” He smiles down at his daughter and cocks his head in Hagrid’s direction. “Sweetheart, what do you say to Hagrid?”

“Thank you!” she says and hugs Hagrid’s legs as she smiles sweetly up at him.  

“O' course, little one,” he replies and pats her affectionately on the head. 

Severus’s daughter grabs his hand and they walk back to Hogwarts together. Along the way, she rambles about every creature she petted and fed. Severus warmly smiles at his daughter’s excitement. Several students stare as Severus passes by them with his daughter in tow. “Should you not be returning to your houses?” he sneers at them to protect his reputation as the harsh dungeon bat. The students quickly scamper away and Severus beckons his daughter to their quarters. 

He pushes the door open to the sound of music playing from a small radio and fire crackling from the fireplace. Water rushes from the shower and Severus’s daughter is about to open the bathroom door when he stops her. She looks disappointed, but he reassures her, “Wait for Mummy to finish her shower and I will warm up milk for you. All right?”

She nods and jumps onto the sofa. He searches the fridge for milk as the bathroom door creaks open, revealing you in pajamas. “Hi. I thought I heard you two coming in. How was Hagrid’s, sweetheart?”

“He showed me unicorns and hippogriffs!” she gushes. A unicorn plushie flies into her hands and she changes the body of the unicorn to have a yellowish tint. “One of them looked like Angel, but she was a baby so she was yellow.”

“How cute is that!” you say enthusiastically. “Next time we can look at them together!” The both of you giggle and Severus smiles as he turns on the stove. He warms the milk for his daughter and when he hands it to her, he finally notices her features. She has his black hair while every other feature mirrors yours: the eyes, nose, lips, and cheeks. Soon after she finishes the milk, her parents wash her and put her to sleep. 

Once Severus changes into his nightclothes, he cuddles with you in bed. Water remaining from your hair wets his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He focuses on how he can feel your breasts through the thin fabric of your pajamas and how your legs are practically fused to his. He tilts his head down and sees you looking down at him. “Are you tired?” you whisper and move your hand from his jaw to his chest. You take more time tracing your hand down his stomach and where he needs it most while wickedly batting your eyelids at him. 

“Not when your hand is all over me.”

You laugh softly and kiss his neck. “Then let’s stay up a little longer.” You swing one leg fully over his leg and lower your body onto him. Severus tilts himself upwards and presses a kiss onto your lips.

A whirlwind of emotions runs through Severus, but the emotion that prevails is longing. He considers you to be a friend and has never recognized that perhaps, he does harbor romantic feelings for you. You have the sweetest smile, the gentlest eyes, and the most beautiful laugh. How was he such a fool not to realize the true meaning of the warmth enveloping him whenever you laugh? And Merlin, that dream. He selfishly wishes it had carried on so he could feel your body enveloping his. 

Then a sense of guilt hits him. You see him as a friend and nothing more, for Merlin’s sake. He’s ashamed that he dreamt of you in such a way. How can he possibly sit next to you in the Great Hall in a few hours and look at you like nothing has happened? The worst part is that you won’t even know why he’s ignoring you. But it’s better this way; he can’t fathom the look of disgust on your face if you knew that he dreamt of your hands roaming over his body. You’re too good, too kind for this. Especially since you just offered to accompany him to Hogsmeade and the Black Lake. 

This is too much for him to handle and his body begins to shake. Tears run down his cheeks and sobs wrack his body. The nearest vase becomes the victim of his emotions as he throws it at the wall, shattering it into porcelain shards. He kicks a messy pile of books and they go flying, knocking down other items they’ve hit. He grabs his wand and explodes a glass jar, spilling its contents everywhere. Severus attempts to calm himself by balling his fingers into a tight fist until his knuckles go white and blood is drawn from the fingernails pressing his palm. Slow, shallow breaths escape him, but they do nothing to calm his internal state. 

Finally, he collapses onto the bed, head between his hands, and allows the emotions of all the dreams to overtake him once more. A selfish part of him wishes that he truly did have a daughter that looks like you. Wishful thinking, that is, considering that you’d never dream of dating him, let alone marrying him. 

A knock sounds on the door, startling Severus. He swallows his sobs and wipes his eyes with his hands. Though, whoever is on the other end knows he’s inside since they knock more insistently this time. He attempts to ignore them again. Cold chills run down his body when he hears their voice. “Severus, I know you’re in there! Please, open up!”

It’s you. What a fool he is for forgetting that you’re patrolling the corridors tonight. He doesn’t know what to do. Leave you at the door or face the one person he never wants to face again? Who is he kidding? He wants to see you more than anyone in the world, but he has to push you away. Then again, it would be cruel to you to completely ignore you, so he settles on shouting, “I am fine! You can leave!”

“Stop lying to me! I heard crashes in there!” Usually, your voice is gentle and kind; now, you sound insistent and a little desperate. A pang of guilt hits him once more, so he swings the door open. 

The light from your wand shines onto Severus, causing him to shrink back in an attempt to hide his puffy red eyes. With the way you’re staring at him, you must think of him as an ugly, pitiful creature. “Oh, Severus. What happened? I’ve been worried about you for so long! Please, talk to me,” you beg and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. How sweet you are for caring so deeply about him. 

“I… I…” he stammers and you draw your head back to look at him expectantly. He quickly breaks eye contact and points at the smashed jar and its contents oozing on the floor. “I am upset because I dropped my favorite potion ingredient.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I don’t believe you.” The concern is still there, but he feels like a silly schoolboy being caught in a lie. 

Sighing, Severus whispers, “What do you want me to say?” He wishes you would leave him to his thoughts and accept his lies, but Merlin you will not give up. It would be so much easier for you to stop caring about him. 

“The truth,” you say and let go of him. He misses the warmth of your hug, but you soon take his hands into yours. Blood reddens his normally pale skin and he’s thankful that your wand is pointing downward so you can’t see his face too well in the darkness. “You don’t know how horrible I feel every time you walk into breakfast dead tired like you’re an inferi or something. Sure, you’re grumpy most of the time, but you snap at the students more than usual. I know something is wrong and it kills me that you won’t talk to me about it. I’m your friend and I promise that I won’t judge you.”

“Yes, you will,” he grunts and tears reform in his eyes. Get a hold of yourself, Severus tells himself. He blinks away the tears and retracts his hands. 

“What?”

“You will judge me,” he whispers. “You have no idea what I have been thinking and you would be revolted if you knew.”

“You’re wrong.” You sound more determined as you speak. “I’ve always known that you’re a good person even if your tongue is sharp. When you killed Dumbledore and took over as Headmaster, the other professors and staff members would rip you apart behind your back. I never partook in that. I knew that you were serving as a double spy and that every deed you did was so we could win the war. No matter what happened, my belief in you has never wavered. So whatever this is, I don’t think it can be worse than pretending to be a Death Eater.”

He turns around and steps toward a shelf without the broken glass so you can’t see the tears falling out of his eyes because of your utter devotion to him. How could he go through with his plan of ignoring you when you’re so loyal to him? Caution is thrown to the wind when Severus confesses, “I have been having nightmares. In these nightmares, I dream that I have a wife and child.”

A pause fills the air and Severus finally looks you in the eye. You look somewhat relieved now that he’s confided in you, but your face has fallen. “Do you not want to get married and have kids?”

A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to give a firm, indefinite “no.” Now, though? He supposes he does. A wife and child would certainly fill the loneliness he’s forever had in his heart. “I do. It is only that I…” he hesitates, “I do not believe that I will ever get married or have children.”

“Why’s that?” 

Embarrassment burns at his cheeks and more tears threaten to spill from his eyes. Oddly, this feels worse than that moment by the Black Lake with Lily. It feels like you’re forcing him to confess how he feels for you, how he’s just realized that he longs for you no matter how genuine and supportive you seem to be. “Do not make me say it.”

“I don’t understand,” you say. Honesty fills your eyes, beckoning him to open up to you. 

“Look at me. No woman would want to marry, let alone date me,” he says and he gestures at himself. He runs a finger along his greasy hair and hooked nose to demonstrate his point that he’s a hideous dungeon bat. A dry, humorless laugh escapes him in the hopes of lightening the mood. 

“That’s not true,” you reply and step toward him. In the dim light from a glowing insect in a jar, Severus can see your eyes and the look in it is something he can’t decipher. 

“I appreciate your words of consolation, yet they are nothing but a white lie,” he scoffs and turns away from you. 

“They aren’t,” you whisper. You step towards him cautiously, in case he’ll swat you away. But he doesn’t. You move to him until you’re so close that he can feel your breath on his face. 

For a second, Severus wishes that you’d kiss him. She would never want to do that, he thinks to himself. His cheeks redden in embarrassment at his inappropriate thoughts. 

But your face is moving ever so close to him, and then you’re getting on your tippy toes, and your lips are hovering right next to his, and you finally kiss him. His head spins as your hands cup his face and pull him impossibly closer to you. He doesn’t know where to put his limp arms, how to breathe, or why you fancy him, but all that matters is the exhilarating feeling of your soft lips against his chapped lips. 

You finally release him when you need air, but you lean your forehead against his and breathlessly laugh. With his newfound ability to move, he places his hands on yours and laughs with you. 

Eternity seems to pass as you stare at each other until Severus whispers, “When?”

You understand without clarification and you tell him, “I don’t really know. I guess I always found you handsome.” Severus rolls his eyes and opens his mouth in response, but you silence him with a quick kiss. “I don’t want to hear any of it,” you say and kiss his nose. If you’re willing to kiss his nose, then perhaps he shouldn’t feel so insecure about it. 

“After the battle, I noticed that you were missing from the Great Hall. I walked through the area with the wounded at least twice and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the dead until I had to. It was when I couldn’t find you amongst the dead either that I finally realized how I felt for you. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I missed out on the opportunity to tell you how I feel,” you whisper and give a dry laugh. If Severus wasn’t listening intently, he wouldn’t be able to hear your low voice. “But when you were healing, I didn’t want to burden you with how I felt. And then I guess I was too shy.”

Unbeknownst to Voldemort, Severus carried the antidote to Nagini’s venom wherever he went. When Voldemort left the Shrieking Shack and he gave his memories to Potter, he poured the vial down his throat and healed his bite wounds. The loss of blood knocked him out until the battle was won and even when he regained consciousness, he could barely find the energy to move. Although he eventually managed to apparate to an unoccupied building in Hogsmeade, he realized he wouldn’t be welcome amongst the others at Hogwarts. A desolate street seemed to be the best place to hide and he slumped along a wall, allowing himself to regain his strength. 

Then he heard your voice calling out for him. At first, he thought he had fallen asleep and he was dreaming of you. But when you crouched in front of him and inspected his body for wounds, he vaguely recognized you as a real, living being. He didn’t question why you were looking for him or why you didn’t kill him as you apparated him to St. Mungo’s. Sometimes he pondered those questions, but he never asked you why.

“I am glad you found the courage to say something now.” Severus brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear and initiates the kiss this time. Gaining confidence with your confession and previous kisses, he lets his hands roam down your body until they rest on your waist. As his tongue slips between your lips, he thinks that he will never get tired of this delightful feeling. 

XXX

Soft breaths sound around the bedroom. Severus feels your chest rising and lowering as you sleep cuddled against his body. One arm is wrapped around you and supports your head, while the other gently soothes the baby sleeping on his chest. He knows your daughter can’t sleep with her parents in bed for now, but he wants to enjoy comforting his child before he puts her in her crib. 

The view outside the window isn’t the same as the one in his dreams; the grass outside is green and the flowers grow in beds around the yard, but other cozy houses surround his own. But perfectly recreating his joyous nightmares into a reality years later doesn’t matter to him. All that matters is that he has the two of you and that his joyous nightmares no longer haunt him; they only bring him joy. 

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry-a-Thon 2015 Recs

Snarry-a-Thon is an annual fest of Snarry goodness that always brings so much creativity and joy in the Snarry community. I am forever blown away by how much talent and passion Snarry-lovers have. With that in mind, I wanted to create some special recs for a fest near and dear to my heart.

With that, here are my Top 5 picks for the 2015 fest! But first...

Disclaimer: my rec lists are created based on my personal experiences and preferences. There are plenty of other stories and authors who are quite good and deserve just as much love. This is not meant to be an objective “best of the best” list, but the subjective opinion of a longtime reader and fangirl.

Painted in the Worst Light

by asecretchord. Rated: E. Words: 98,457. Trials. Wizengamot.

Severus survived Nagini's bite and is now on trial before the Wizengamot. Due to a weird loophole in the law books, he has the right to choose any Ministry employee to defend him, and he chooses Auror-trainee, Harry Potter.

Under the Cover of Darkness

by avioleta (@avioleta). Rated: E. Words: 22,515. Muggle AU. First Time. Slow build. Masturbation.

Harry is a graduate student studying criminal psychology; Snape is an investigative reporter with a questionable past. Together, the go undercover to research the nefarious Scottish cult headed by Tom Riddle. They discover far more than they bargained for.

A House, a Home

by elmyraemilie. Rated: T. Words: 20,072.

Snape and Potter have gone their separate ways after the war. Snape is shocked to find that the builder he's contacted to do some minor repairs on Spinner's End turns out to be Harry Potter. That's not the only shock he's going to have, either.

The Builder

by sra_danvers. Rated: M. Words: 8,051.

Ten years after the war, Severus has saved enough Galleons to renovate Spinner’s End. He's stunned to find the work will be done by none other than Harry Potter.

ProtoSnape

by suitesamba (@suitesamba). Rated: E. Words: 13,342. Humor. Mystery.

When WWW decides to add Headmaster Snape to their Wizarding Heroes Action Figure line, Harry begins a correspondence with Snape’s cousin to iron out the details of the prototype. Albert Prince Jr. has some very specific ideas, and Harry soon finds himself counting buttons and measuring cauldron bottoms in a bid to get the action figure to market, and to find out a bit more about this mysterious cousin.

Snarry-a-Thon 2015 Masterlist