#need to stop thinking about snape when i have things to do

[zacolyn]

Okay, so I just wanna speak up on my own opinion of Harry Potter.

I was 13 when the first book came out, and I was already a voracious reader beforehand, which might have helped with my opinion. I did buy and read the first book (despite my father's half-hearted protest about the magic element, he was at least smart enough to realize that his daughter would Find A Way if he actually banned the book from her grubby hands), and....I didn't hate it.

Rowling actually had in me a fan up to the Goblet of Fire, at which point she had apparently decided she didn't need to try so hard and her real viewpoints started to leak through. Her protagonist became an absolute git and I began to despise Harry Potter as much as his actual enemies in the books did, though it seemed no one despised him more than the trollop writing him.

Still, though I got tired of certain elements rather quickly (Gryffindor being obviously favored over the other Houses, for example), I have read all the books, all but the last one in softcover and I can tell you honestly that from the Goblet of Fire on I was reading just to finish the story and keep up with friends who were also reading the books, because by then I had largely stopped caring.

Harry's pain became my pleasure unless Umbridge was the cause. I proudly declared myself a Slytherin because Gryffindor was a stained House full of pompous jackdaws like the Potters, and while I hardly thought Snape would have been the better choice, I firmly believed Lily was an idiot for thinking James was worth a blink.

Of course, this was all by design. Rowling made the Slytherins interesting because their views aligned with her own. They were written with far more depth and love because they were her truth. It's certainly been no hardship for me to walk away from all things Potter knowing that. It was part of my childhood, it certainly did leave an impression and her books will doubtless outlive her as have the literary works of other bigots. I can even understand the pain of giving up something you've developed your personality around, but people who love Harry Potter have a choice to make.

They can either denounce it utterly and totally, or they can continue as they're doing and be labeled an ally of a prominent TERF and antisemite. There is no middle ground to be had here. She certainly doesn't see a separation between her works and her. If you enjoy her work, you are supporting her, either directly through giving her money, or indirectly simply by supporting something you know is bigoted and even racist right through the core of it.

There is no toeing the line. There is no saying you are a Slytherin while denouncing the rest. This is black or white. She will not let you sit in the gray. You are either wholly against or wholly for. I'm sorry. Go read Magnus Chase or something instead. Any number of other magical school books. Make your own even like I'm trying to do. You don't need Harry Potter. You can do better than that.

I'm sorry, I don't believe that anyone who has read regularly since childhood would still count Harry Potter as the best book they've ever read.

[maxdibert]

The thing that gets me about that one post is where they said Snape *needs* to be straight and white because his reasons for bullying Harry are petty. Like, what does that even mean?? If James truly bullied Snape because he was already a blood purist and death eater like they claim, then what does it matter if he's black and gay? If it really was just a rivalry over Lily's attention, then there shouldn't be a problem right? Why are Snape's actions petty if he's white and straight, but somehow more legitimate when he has a different race and sexual orientation? Is pettiness only a white, straight trait? Are other people not allowed to be petty? Are white, straight people not allowed to be traumatized by bullying? They can only acknowledge it was traumatizing if its done to a marginalized group? Lmao I need their thought processes explained to me.

Yeah, so, there’s something really messed up going on with all this, because what they’re saying has like two layers, two different readings, and both are pretty disturbing if you actually stop and think about it. On the one hand, what they seem to be implying — without saying it directly but definitely suggesting it — is that someone who isn’t white and/or straight can’t do bad things. Like, that’s the takeaway. According to this weird logic, if you make Snape queer and racialized, suddenly nothing he does matters. He could literally be Voldemort, he could turn into a serial killer like Ted Bundy, and somehow he’d still be… untouchable or something, because that’s the unspoken rule. Since he belongs to a historically oppressed group, his actions automatically stop being questionable. And that’s incredibly dangerous, not just because it’s essentialist to the core, but because it basically means you're assigning ethical or moral capacity based on who you sleep with or how you look in the mirror. It's completely fucking absurd on every level.

But the second point is even more fucked up. What’s being implied —almost unconsciously but very clearly— is that if a white, straight, working-class person like Snape is humiliated, bullied, stripped in public, and subjected to systematic psychological abuse during his teenage years by a bunch of rich, powerful kids —because let’s remember, James and Sirius weren’t exactly struggling— then suddenly it doesn’t matter. Apparently, according to these people, that kind of abuse only counts if it happens to someone who fits into a particular identity category they’ve decided is worthy of empathy. In other words, trauma is only valid if the victim is part of an oppressed group. But if the victim is a white, straight dude, then he had it coming, right? Then it’s not bullying, it’s not trauma, it’s not something that could scar you for life or mess you up psychologically.

And that’s where it all becomes a complete mess. Because if we start from the idea that only certain people have the right to be hurt, to suffer, to have trauma, or to react badly to the things that happen to them, then what we’re doing is accepting a worldview that’s incredibly dangerous, one where morality is distributed based on identity categories instead of actions or context. And I’m sorry, but that’s not social justice, and it’s not fighting oppression. That’s just swapping one arbitrary system for another equally unfair one, just dressed up as progressivism.

And finally, what pisses me off the most about all of this is how deeply dehumanizing it is. Because denying someone the capacity to do wrong just because they’re not white or straight is just as absurd as denying someone the capacity to suffer because they are. Both things reduce people to symbols, to archetypes, to puppets in some ideological narrative. And that, to me, is the most dehumanizing thing of all. Because every single one of us has the right to be complex, contradictory, vulnerable and yes, sometimes petty or even cruel. There’s no identity that automatically makes you a better person, and there’s no skin color or orientation that exempts you from doing horrible things or from experiencing horrible things.

So yeah, I’d love for these people to explain their thought process, because either they haven’t thought it through at all, or —if they have— then where it leads is kind of terrifying.

[severus-snaps]

A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies...

never given this line much thought before but it fits with what Bellatrix says about Spinner's End being a "Muggle dunghill" and the dirty river etc, on top of the infamous collection of information in Two Up, Two Down post I love so much.

what follows is another moment for me of realising just how hard snape had it and the likely conditions he grew up in

he didn't have any older siblings (that we know about) to borrow clothes from, which was why he was in his parents' clothing; the fact that he wasn't loaned any clothes that fit marginally better or were even for boys from the neighbours suggests that the Snapes weren't particularly close to the other families, and i expect a large number of flies in the house (enough to be shooting down, enough to spot when harry only saw the memory fleetingly) suggests poor sanitation in the home

It's not just a case of Bellatrix being judgy about a Muggle neighbourhood, currently falling apart with houses on the cobbled streets boarded up and with broken windows, and a dirty, smelly river; Snape's home growing up was considered "a poor recommendation" even when he was a child. Two up, two down houses were, in that period (and even before) often falling apart, known for being unsanitary and unsafe, as well as damp and cramped together. they were never intended to be nice; they were thrown up so that workers could be near the factories, and that was about the only concern at the time

There's some really vivid descriptions of living in these sorts of houses around, but I've just found this one from facebook (with images I've added from flashbak.com):

The house had no electric supply and relied solely on gas for everything.

One wall in each room had one gas mantle fitted to it for light and when the mantle became faulty it would smell and the light would become less bright and eventually cease to do the job and need replacing.

There was a coal fire grate in each room but only the living room fire was kept lit to keep the costs down because although people worked long hours wages were low and money was in short supply.

In the kitchen the heat from the stove when cooking provided some warm that also made its way upstairs into the bedrooms.

During the winter months when the house was particularly cold overcoats were placed over the blankets on the beds for extra warmth for the children in the front bedroom. While the parents slept in the smaller back bedroom.

There was only one water tap in the house situated in the kitchen and the kettle or pans had to be filled when hot water was required. They were heated on the stove and because there was no bathroom the young children were washed in the large sink or a tin bath while others went to the public baths situated nearby, local to the area.

The toilet was in the back yard and was also unlit, leaving the gas light from the kitchen to light up the yard through the window.

Toilet paper was old newspapers that had been cut up into squares and made ready for use.

All flooring in the house was covered with lino with the exception of the living room that had a rug in the centre for comfort and to help prevent wear and tear. Since the end of the world war II there had been shortages and many households struggled to get basic food stuff and clothing.

The black market had been active for some years and those that had the money would get what they needed, while for those that had little depended on the rationing system introduced by the government to make sure that everyone got at least basic food stuff.

The I.D. card had been introduced because of the war and was proof of who you were and was used for the benefit of rationing. There were often queues at the butchers and many families got the scrag ends and scraps that were left over.

When it came to clothing, families would put aside what was worn by one child until the next child had grown enough to wear them and every item including shoes were cleaned and repaired if possible and put away and saved for later use.

In those days children at play preferred to play outside and regularly would play along the canal and the neighbourhood streets and alleyways. There were very few cars around and despite the unclean air from the surrounding factories they would play all day outside until they were called in.

In those days there were very little restrictions on pollution and it was normal to wake up in the mornings to smog that sometimes lasted all week. A real pea souper as they say

but like... imagine snape growing up there, like that, with no sense of community and parents who couldn't afford to or weren't able to care for him properly. this is so far beyond 'weasley poor' with their warm, cosy home and plenty to eat; this is gaunt poor, improper housing, and conditions that regularly made people ill

perhaps the Snapes had to rely on the black market to even eat enough, if they could afford it; I'm picturing chest infections and frost on the insides of the windows over the winters, and flies crawling in the house in the summers - and apparently limited use of magic at the time snape was growing up to rectify any of it, else the descriptions wouldn't be so consistently negative (and evocative) with a potential swarm of flies in his bedroom

(wonder if he was underage here, and using his wand since his mother would've had one, or whether it's a snippet of post-hogwarts snape; the next memory is of snape on a broomstick, so presumably that's at hogwarts, and he was underage in the fly memory, trapped/hiding/sulking in his room)

then he gets to hogwarts with the likes of the malfoys, who have a whole mansion and peacocks and house elves and can afford anything they want, and they look down on the weasleys and their comfortable one-'moderate'-income supporting a seven-child home as if they were cockroaches. what on earth would they have thought of snape, if they knew? he had factual knowledge of the magical world, but i doubt he had that "raised in the magical world" vibe they so desperately want to protect

[catssluvr]

jealous, natalie scatorccio

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader (1.5k words) (request)

in which nat’s been spending a lot of time with travis hunting and you get jealous.

warnings: r is a bit of a jerk at first, jealousy, bsfs to lovers, fluff <3

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

You watch from afar as Natalie and Travis prepare to leave for a hunt, the smile on her face that is usually directed to you leaves a burning in your throat, suddenly feeling like it's too hard to breathe.

It's been happening more and more, them being together as you and Natalie stop doing the things you used to do. You can't blame them, there is food that needs to be found and if it weren't for them no one would be alive by now. But you do hate yourself a little for not having been good at using the gun.

It should be you getting to spend time with her, not Travis. Her best friend. Though you aren't naïve enough to believe your feelings for her are completely platonic.

You turn away as you feel the tears burning your eyes, hoping that not looking at them will make you feel better. It doesn't, but it's enough to stop the tears from spilling. You don't know how you'd be able to explain them if anyone saw. You miss the way Nat's smile falters when you don't say goodbye to her.

A hand on your shoulder has you turning back, catching a glimpse of your favorite blonde hair before it disappears into the woods.

"Hey, are you okay?" Van asks, eyebrows pulled together in worry. You think for a second that she might have caught on you, she can't have.

"Yeah, all good, Van." You force a small smile onto your face, cringing at how fake you already know it looks.

"Wanna go catch some berries with me and Tai later?” It’s a hopeful question, you realize.

"No, you guys go. I think i'll just head to the lake and hang there." It's painful to be brushing everyone off like this, but you really crave a moment of peace, alone.

"Okay.. you do know you can talk to us if you're not okay, yeah? I know Nat not being around sucks for you." She says as if testing the waters, not knowing how to approach the matter.

"What makes you think this is about Nat?" Your skin feels hot as you turn defensive, taking a step back.

"So there is something going on." Van presses.

"No." You barely try to lie, hugging your arms to your torso and shrinking in yourself.

"Look, i just thought that-"

"You thought wrong." You spat, walking out into the lake's direction and leaving Van no time to say anything else.

You spend most of your afternoon by the lake, swimming until your fingers are numb from the cold water and then sitting close to the water, lost in thought while throwing rocks.

As soon as you had reached the lake earlier, all of the anger you once felt had dissipated, feeling immediately remorseful for snaping at Van.

Knowing someone else knew about your feelings for Nat could only mean you weren't very good at hiding them and that was a thought that terrified you. With your friendship hanging on a thread, she would hate you for this if she found out.

A part of you really wants to go wait for Natalie on the cabin porch like you always do, but the other tells you it's just going to hurt even more to see her come back with him, the same smile from earlier on her face.

The sound of boots against the pebbles makes you alarmed enough to turn, regret filling you as you see Nat approach you. You turn back towards the lake, taking a steady breath and again failing to notice the way her face falls.

"Hey." Nat says gently, sitting next to you.

"Hi." You avoid her eyes as you greet.

"You weren't at the cabin to greet me back like usual." She states before leaning her head towards you, locking her eyes with yours, "Got worried."

"Just forgot, i guess." You shrug your shoulders, starting to pick at your nails once you hear her let out a big sigh.

"Do want to go for a swim before dinner? A dive sounds good but i don't wanna go alone." Nat bumps her shoulder to yours, smiling in a way that reminds you too much of earlier.

"Actually, i should go help with dinner." You find yourself saying before you can think. "Maybe another day though." You add meekly.

"Alright, are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?" She huffs, eyes searching your face for any sign.

"Nothing's going on, Natalie." You answer, regretting the way she flinches at the way you use her whole name.

"Yes, yes there is. Why are you so distant- did i do something?" She pushes and you can't help but feel tempted by her exasperated face and the fact that you caused it.

But you can't just tell her. You're tired, and just as scared as everyone else so you can't afford to lose your best friend because of having feelings for her.

"Nothing's wrong. You're not really around to notice, anyway." You can't really help as it bubbles out of your chest, the bottled up words begging to escape.

"Yeah, maybe cause i'm trying to help us fucking survive." She snaps, getting up in a hurry and starting to walk towards the cabin, but she turns around after a few steps.

"Here, i thought that it would be nice to get these stupid flowers for you." Nat spits sourly before reaching into her bag, throwing the pretty bunch of wilds daisies into your lap.

You stay silent for good moment, hearing her steps fade until they finally they disappear. "Fuck." You whisper to yourself, bringing your hands to your face.

It's only later, after getting ignored by Nat for the whole dinner, that you get the opportunity of a moment alone with her.

She's siting outside on the porch, her back to you but you can see enough to know she's lost in thought. You feel bad to disturb her peace, but the thought of having her ignore you for one more second is eating you up. Though you know you deserve it.

Nat doesn't turn as you open the front door, probably aware that it's you.

"Hey." No answer.

"Nat, i'm so sorry." You say, barely above a whisper as you sit on the steps beside her. She finally turns to look you in the eyes, gulping as she waits for you to continue. God, this is harder than you thought it would be.

"I miss you." You state, "Earlier you asked what's wrong." You add quickly, mentally facepalming at how bad you are at this.

"You miss me so you push me away?" Her expression shows confusion but you feel more and more encouraged to continue because at least she's finally talking to you.

"No! It's just that you've been hanging out with Travis so much that i thought you might not want to do stuff with me anymore." You try not to sound petty but it is quite impossible when that is what's going on.

"That's really godamn stupid." She answers almost too seriously but her voice expresses a smile, you can't help but chuckle with her.

"I know, i've been such a jerk to you. And i am sorry." You reach for her hand, almost flinching at the way it's cold from being outside. You wish you could just warm her hands up whenever you want.

"So... you were jealous of Travis?" Nat teases, lacing her fingers with yours and looking down at your hands with a tiny smile.

"I guess i was. But don't flatter yourself, Scatorccio." There's really no need to try and lie at this point, it's either leaving her confused forever or try to fight for it.

"I wish it was you out there with me, you know?" Her gaze is on yours as she speaks, an honest tone to her words. "I mean you're my best friend but it's more than that. It's different."

Your heart feels like it's going to come of your throat for a second, the hope you had lost long ago slowly coming back up. "Different?"

"I don't really give flowers to Travis." Her smile widens, eyes, flickering to your nose, and then to your lips for a glimpse of a second. She suddenly feels really close, way closer then when you sat down beside her.

"Right, the flowers. They're lovely Nat- i did keep them by the-"

"Shut up." She cuts off your rambling, hands letting go of yours to cup your face tentatively before bringing her lips to yours.

Something warms lights up in your chest, making you still before you bring your hands up to hold the back of her head, fingers deep into her hair blonde hair. Nat hums against your lips, fingers sliding down your arms before finding your waist and settling there.

"That different enough for you?" She practically giggles, nuzzling her nose into your cheek.

"Yeah." You nod, not quite sure what you're answering to while lost in a slightly hazy feeling. Your head drops to her shoulder, a comfortable silence filling the air.

"I might have an apology to give to Van."

[junezsq]

failing potions

harry james potter x fem!reader

summary: when working on an essay might turn into something more

warnings: none! takes places in third year

word count: 1,1k

a/n: i love writing confident harry, we need to see more of him

── ᵎᵎ ✦

the gryffindor common room was busy for a late afternoon, the usual hum of chatter flowing through the room while a small ray of sunlight seeped in from the window. you’d just come from a quick chat with hermione about charms when you remember the essay professor snape had assigned you to write for the next potions class.

deciding you’d have a better chance in a quieter environment you gathered your things—quill, parchment, books—ready to leave for the library. potions was still giving you trouble, and you needed a bit of peace to work through your essay, even if you weren’t entirely sure where to start. slipping through the portrait hole, you were nearly to the stairs when someone stepped into your path.

"sorry," harry’s voice cut through the stillness after almost bumping into you. when he realized it was you the usual curiosity he had towards you bubbled up.

“it’s alright.” you smiled, stepping aside to let him pass, but he didn’t move. instead, he looked at you with a sort of tentative hope, his eyebrows raised in question. "where are you off to?" he asked, almost as if it was a casual thing to ask.

you hesitated for a second. you hadn’t been planning on bumping into anyone, nor letting someone possibly join you, let alone that someone being harry. however, looking at the boy standing in front of you, you realized he looked genuinely interested. besides, maybe he could help you with your essay; you’d been struggling for days now.

"i was about to head to the library,” you sighed. “to work on that potions essay snape assigned us. it’s giving me a headache. i can’t make heads or tails of half the instructions."

"funny, i was going to work on it in the common room.” harry’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “i still haven’t even started it yet, though. do you wanna... work on it together?"

you raised an eyebrow, surprised. harry wasn’t exactly the first person you’d think of when it came to potions. it was one of the few things he never seemed to excel in; almost having blown up his cauldron last week. still, there was something about the way he smiled at you—genuine, warm—that made you hesitate.

you thought for a moment. in truth, you just didn’t want to spend the entire evening buried in your own confusion, and the idea of working alongside someone sounded nice. especially harry, who you’d been getting to know better over the past few weeks, even though potions wasn’t his strong suit.

"i guess it wouldn't hurt," you said with a small, amused smile.

harry grinned back, his usual enthusiasm lighting up his face. "great!" he said, his voice eager, though you knew it wasn’t because he expected to solve your potions problem. no, harry was simply someone who liked helping, and, maybe, you suspected, it was also about sharing something with you. "i’m not brilliant at it either," he added with a sheepish chuckle, "but, well, two heads are better than one, right?"

"definitely," you agreed, though you couldn’t help but feel a little skeptical about how much help harry would be. still, his presence was comforting, and that was enough.

you turned to walk toward the stairs, but stopped to glance back at harry. "let’s not tell hermione, though," you added with a quiet laugh. "she’d have a lot to say about us needing help with potions."

harry’s face lit up with a grin, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh out loud. "agreed," he said, nodding. "she’d probably start writing us notes on the finer details of snape’s instructions. i swear, she’s got the entire textbook memorized."

you both shared a laugh, the conversation flowing easily as you made your way to the library. you could feel the beginnings of something comfortable, something real, forming between you. and as harry walked beside you, his smile never quite fading, you realized his company might make the evening worthwhile.

as you reached the library, madam pince was immediately there, giving both of you a sharp look. "quiet," she muttered, waving a finger at you. "this is a library, not a social club."

you both muttered apologies, and harry shot you a grin, making you suppress a laugh. with madam pince keeping a close eye on the two of you, you quickly made your way deeper into the library, picking a secluded corner near the back shelves. it was quieter here, and it felt more private—perfect for getting some work done.

after having sat down at a small table you spread out your books. harry picked up a thick potions textbook, his brow furrowed as he flipped through the pages, and you followed suit; your own potions book open in front of you. the silence between you was comfortable, and as you both tried to piece together the complicated instructions snape had written, you found yourself glancing at harry more than once. he didn’t seem stressed, just casually flipping through the pages, occasionally muttering things under his breath.

"right," harry said after a long pause, "i think i finally understand this bit about the aconite root. snape’s wording is a bit—" he paused, then looked at you, "—confusing, don’t you think?"

you nodded, feeling a sense of relief that harry was just as baffled by snape’s cryptic instructions as you were. "yeah, it’s like he’s trying to make us all fail on purpose."

harry let out a sarcastic chuckle, "wouldn’t surprise me. he’s probably hoping we’ll figure it out on our own, like some sort of secret test."

you smiled at his words, the ease of the moment settling over you. for a split second, you almost forgot about the stress of the essay, of potions, of everything. it was just you and harry, talking and working together in this quiet corner of the library.

then harry suddenly looked up at you, his expression shifting slightly. "you know," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, "i’m glad we’re doing this. i mean, we haven’t really gotten the chance to get to know one another."

you blinked at him, surprised, and a teasing grin formed on your lips, “are you?”

harry shrugged, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. "yeah, well. between everything going on...” he trailed off, but when he seemed to remember he couldn’t tell you more, he lightly shook his head, “i mean, with all the homework we’re getting and all.” he looked at you for a beat, his gaze a little more intense than before. “but this is nice.”

you swallowed, unsure of what to say, and for a moment, you were both caught in a silence that felt different from the usual. the world outside the library seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate space.

"yeah," you said softly with a small smile, the quiet in your voice matching his. "it is."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

SOUNDTRACK // blind, role model

TAGLIST // @callsigncrushx @moonjellyfishie @pussyslayerhd

[ruzz9]

Hey so I've loved your girl!dad snape drabbles and I wanna know if you were able to write a drabble where he finds out his daughter is dating Harry Potter ☺ also if you don't like the idea or whatever I'm not gonna be mad like how some people will get on the internet. I honestly just think it would be funny. Like his daughter just girl the courage to tell her dad she's dating Harry and his face show no emotion but just suddenly get up, find Harry and just. Go. Off. Whether it be in private or in the courtyard of Hogwarts where a lot of students hangout me a while Harry is praying he is still alive after lol

Harry Potter and the Only Brave Boy to Date the Half-Blood Prince's Daughter

Summary: You finally had the courage to tell your dad you’re dating Harry Potter. Now Snape is going to confront him... And Harry is praying, sweating, and seriously reconsidering his life choices.

A/N: Hey hey! Back again. Thanks for the request! My anxiety is still recovering from this one. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Warnings: Intimidation, Power imbalance, Angst, Manipulation, Tension.

Masterlist

1,7k Words

The students hurried out of the classroom, carrying scrolls, bags, anxiety. Some didn’t even notice you waiting by the Potions door. Others did, and looked at you as if you were about to do something forbidden.

Snape came out right behind the last student, his robes billowing as if they too were irritated. Upon seeing you there, he didn’t change his pace or expression.

“Dad,” you said, stepping beside him. “I need to talk to you.”

“Not the time.”

“Just a minute. It’s important.”

“The only thing that matters right now is that you review your defensive spells before the next assessment. A minute lost here is half a point lost there.”

“Dad. Please.”

That made him slow down. Not completely, just enough to give you room.

“Walk while you talk, or don’t talk at all. I don’t have time to spare.”

You kept his pace, like so many times before. He didn’t look at you, but his ear was alert. You took advantage of the slightest opening.

“I’m seeing someone.”

He stopped. So did you. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The corridor seemed to stretch, a chill crept down your spine.

He turned his head with a slowness that chilled your blood. His expression remained unreadable, but the silence between you grew sharp. But there was something in that silent pause that hurt, and his voice came out tightly controlled.

“Who?”

You hesitated, not because you doubted your choice, but because you knew what your answer would cost.

“Harry,” you said, steadying your voice. “Harry Potter.”

A beat. You watched it flicker—something in his eyes tightening, a shift so minimal anyone else would have missed it. But you knew him. And you felt it: the crack just beneath the surface.

“Since when?”

“Half a term. I wanted to tell you before.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I wanted to be sure it was real.”

Snape took a deep breath, as if even the air had to be restrained to keep him from detonating.

“Go to class.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“If you stay, you’ll lose points. More than you can afford.”

“Dad, please,” you said quietly. “Don’t—don’t make a scene.”

That did something. His lip curled, not into a smile, but something far more unsettling. A slow, venomous twist.

“A scene?” He took a step closer, and his voice dropped even lower, nearly intimate. “I’m not the one who made the mistake.”

“Harry’s not a mistake.”

“No,” he replied coldly. “Mistakes, at the very least, teach you something. Potter is a relapse.”

That hit, like a slap to the chest—and you spoke without thinking:

“I’m not like your ex,” you blurted. “Or whatever that woman was to you.”

He leaned in close. Slowly. His eyes like black blades.

“That woman,” he whispered, “was your so-called boyfriend’s mother. And look at her now.”

He paused. The word caught in his throat, like something he’d rather swallow than admit.

“Dead.”

And the way he said it... He didn’t shout. it wasn’t a reproach. It was a warning.

Then he turned. And walked away—faster now, too fast for you to follow without making a scene yourself. You didn’t need to ask where he was going. You already knew. He was going to find him. And Harry... wasn’t ready.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bell had rung a few minutes ago, the classroom doors were open. Dozens of students moved through the corridors, changing classes, talking loudly, laughing, dodging each other.

Snape didn’t stop.

The student tide seemed to part for him with an instinctive sense of evasion—as if even the most clueless recognized the imminent danger.

And there he was. Harry Potter. Coming from the opposite direction, talking with Hermione and Ron, distracted, unaware of what was approaching.

But when Harry looked up and met that unmistakable black figure, he froze for a moment.

He subtly pushed Ron.

“This way,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Class is the other way! What are you—” Ron protested, confused.

But it was too late. Snape was there.

“Granger. Weasley. Move along.”

“But professor, we—” Hermione tried, worried.

“Now.”

The tone was so dry, so absolute, not even Hermione dared protest. She exchanged a look with Harry, who seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. Ron patted his arm like he was saying goodbye for the last time, and they quickly walked away.

They were alone. Harry knew, with absolute certainty, that he was screwed.

“Professor Snape,” he greeted, trying to sound calm.

Snape didn’t wait.

He grabbed Harry’s arm with controlled strength, no attempt to hide the intent, and dragged him through the side corridor. Some students stopped. Others whispered.

Draco Malfoy, passing by with Crabbe and Goyle, didn’t miss the chance.

“Well, Potter. Looks like someone found out your little secret.”

His cronies chuckled behind him.

Snape didn’t stop.

He turned down a less-traveled hallway, and then another narrower one, until the stone walls muffled the noise. He pushed Harry against the wall, trapping him between stone and presence.

Harry’s breath caught mid-chest. He looked at Snape with wide eyes, swallowing, trying to compose his face. He tried.

“Since when?”

The question was clear. Direct.

Harry blinked. A small, awkward smile crept up, forced.

“Since when what, professor?” he asked with feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

The voice was almost convincing. Almost. Snape didn’t bite. He narrowed his eyes slightly, skeptical.

“Don’t play with me, Potter.”

The tone didn’t rise in volume—but it grew heavier.

Harry looked away, pretending casualness.

“Are you talking about... the Slytherin match? Because that was two weeks ago. And we won. Though the referee was crap, of course. But that’s nothing new...”

The professor raised an eyebrow.

“You think I care about Quidditch?”

“Well, I don’t know… you get pretty intense with the Slytherin team, I thought—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll make you swallow your broomstick, Potter.”

Harry’s heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Sweat trickled down his back. He’d faced Death Eaters. Dementors. Unspeakable creatures. But being trapped under that gaze… that was another kind of fear.

Snape stepped closer. And this time, his voice dropped to a near whisper.

“Since. When.”

The pressure in the air grew heavier. Harry swallowed again. Rubbed one palm with the other, nervous. And he knew it. He couldn’t help it. He gave in.

“December.”

Snape stared at him. One second. Two. The moment stretched endlessly.

“Half a term,” he repeated. Not a question. “Half a term of lying.”

Harry clenched his teeth. Everything in him was taut, and of course, Snape noticed.

“It wasn’t out of disrespect,” he tried. “It’s just... she wanted to tell you her way. I... I only—”

“You only were a coward.” Snape looked at him with fury.

“No! I’ve taken care of her, I listen to her, I support her. It was her choice, not mine.”

“Since when have you been obedient?” he hissed. “Tell me, Potter, in what world exactly do you think you’re worthy of my daughter?”

Harry raised his gaze, tense.

“I love her. I respect her. And I’d never hurt her.”

Snape looked at him with pure contempt, as if he’d just said the most pathetic thing imaginable.

“You respect her? You respect your professor’s daughter, knowing exactly what I think of you and your lineage of impulsive, arrogant, mediocre Gryffindors?”

“You don’t know who I am,” Harry said, firmer. “And I’m not my father.”

That was the mistake. Snape stepped even closer. Mere inches.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. “James, at least, knew where the bloody line was.”

Harry felt heat rise to his face. He opened his mouth, but Snape raised a hand—silencing him.

“I don’t care what you think you feel. Or how much you ‘admire’ her. Or if you write her poorly rhymed poems. What I care about is this: my daughter is not your cure, Potter. She’s not here to make you feel like a better man. She’s not your bloody redemption arc. And she’s definitely not your ticket to cleaning up your father’s mess.”

Harry clenched his fists. His jaw too. But he didn’t speak. There was a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know whether saying something would make it worse—or staying silent.

Then Snape averted his gaze briefly, as if considering a possibility.

“You know, Potter?” he began, in a distracted tone. “There are a few potions I’ve had to remove from the supply shelves this year. Subtle substances—some cause disorientation, ruin your focus for days, or cause mild paralysis in the worst cases. A few drops in your pumpkin juice and you’d forget how to tie your shoes. Oddly, not all of them leave a trace. And some... are nearly undetectable when dosed correctly.”

Harry turned pale.

“Are you... threatening me?”

Snape smiled. This time, truly. Slowly. With razor-edged satisfaction.

“No. I’m illustrating. So you can contemplate the possible outcomes... when someone like me decides someone like you is a bad idea.”

Snape stepped back slightly. And measured him again. “I want you to end it.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “I’m not going to do that.” His green eyes didn’t tremble like before, but they were still full of fear.

“Then this is very simple. If you dare touch her. If you hurt her. If you dare repeat history...” He said it dryly, watching him with steady, unblinking eyes. “I won’t kill you, Potter. I’ll make you wish I would.”

Before turning, he added without expression:

“Don’t drink anything you didn’t prepare yourself. And watch your intentions. You’re officially under observation.”

Without another word, he turned. The swish of his robes was the only sound in the hallway.

Harry stood there. Still. Breathing slowly. With the metallic taste of fear in his mouth, his thoughts in disarray, and the sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time.

For the first time in a long time, he thought that facing a basilisk was just as bad—or worse—than dating Severus Snape’s daughter.

[julielovesstars]

I can't (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has been best friends with the Weasley twins since their first year at Hogwarts and due to her circumstances at home has basically become part of the Weasley family which she never wants to lose. What happens when things between her and Fred become too complicated?

Warnings: kissing, angst, cute behavior, friends to lovers

Word count: 8.2k

Home was not always the place I was happy to return; my parents tried their best, they really did but some things just never changed. I know they love me even though some of their behaviours challenged that theory. Them both being muggles made it easier but also much worse.

Firstly, because they didn’t understand anything that I was going through or what I were talking about if it had anything to do with the wizarding world, the already existing disconnect grew to a canyon. Still, it meant that most of the year whilst I was Hogwarts, I got to avoid the arguments, the cautious looks, the lack of conversationalism.  

It was almost as if I were escaping to the fairytale books I read as a kid. Almost.

“Mum repainted the room for you,” George said as him, Fred and I were walking back to the Gryffindor common room after the last lesson of the day.

“Aw no, the grey was…” I tried to think of a positive descriptive word

“Depressing?”  Fred perked up.

I rolled your eyes and bumped my shoulder into his, “I was going to say charming,” as it did in fact have its own type of charm “Still, she didn’t have to do that for me, it’s your guys’ home, it’s Charlie’s room,” I said coming out on the other side of the Fat Lady portrait

“She wants you to feel at home,” Ginny joined in from the sofa where her and Harry were looking through a magazine of the newest quidditch gear coming out later this summer.

“I mean we can repaint it if you want? I’m thinking some sickly green, the colour of those exploding bouncy balls we gave out to the first years, the first week” George laughed

“I will never forget McGonagle’s face,” Fred reminisced, little did the first years know they weren’t just going to be pranking the teachers by organizing a friendly game in one of the corridors, it was indeed a set up to spread the stickly, green goo that ended up covering McGonagle and took Filch a week to clean up.

“I will never forget that Professor McGonagle said she was impressed with the spell work,” I huffed flinging myself on the sofa next to Ginny and pulling her into a hug.

The Weasleys had basically become my family. I met the twins on your first day at Hogwarts and I was not scared to tell them what I thought of their lame pranks, they knew a lot more magic now and their pranks were much cooler, still I’d never admit that to them, or to the teachers that I helped with a few.

Whilst that first Christmas I stayed at Hogwarts telling my parents all the students did, and the first summer I returned home to my very normal muggle home and life, for most of every Christmas and every summer I lived with the Weasleys at Mrs Weasleys insistence.

The next evening in the common room I was quizzing Hermoine on spells for her next class assessment, I was sat at the end of the one of the red sofas she was on the armchair beside me. Fred was laying across the sofa, his head on my lap as he, Geroge and Lee discussed how they all failed in securing the herbs from Snape’s stash that they needed for their next prank.

I had absentmindedly started braiding Fred’s hair as the bushy haired girl got spell after spell correct, her face gleaming with a proud smile.

“When will you guys stop this façade and just admit you’re madly in love?” Ron asked as him, Ginny and Harry entered the common room

“I’d say they’re already together but trying to avoid all of the teasing,” Ginny added.

Harry came to rest of the armrest of Hermione’s chair taking the revision cards out of her hands and looking through them rather confused, “I don’t agree cause they’d be doing a really bad job of hiding and I know Y/n is a lot smarter than that,” Hermione inputted and we shared a smile.

“We are right here guys,” Fred said sitting up and touching the small braid placed in his hair, my hands fell to my lap.

I looked around at all our friends, “we’ve told you a million times we’re just really good friends,” I confirmed, Fred winked at me. I threw a pillow at him.

“Yes! I was joking, just friends!” he called out throwing the pillow at me, “when will you guys believe it?” he demanded.

“When you stop behaving like you’re in a long-term relationship,” Lee stated.

Geroge laughed, “You guys are too comfortable with each other, for all we knew you’re snogging each other around every corner when no one’s looking,” the other Weasley twin shrugged, it was so obviously meant to get a rise out of Fred who shot him a death glare.

Still Geroge stood up stretching his arms into the air as if he decided the conversion was over. Discussion closed and I was glad for it; it was tiring to keep fighting this argument. I have told Fred multiple times if he talked to him twin and George would stop joining in with the teasing that everyone would leave it alone but he has clearly not listened- not that that’s new.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It happened during the last Quidditch game of the season.

“You can’t all go in he needs to rest not be overwhelmed” Madam Pomfrey states in her stern tone watching all of us, to her defence there way six of us here demanding to get into the hospital wing, “fine, but only for a moment,” she gave in with a sigh and turning around to open the tall wooden doors.

There he laid in the middle bed on the right, a crooked grin on his face as he watched us come in, red hair stuck up in all sorts of angles.

“Georgie!” Fred shouted and then quickly added, “Sorry!” for shouting towards Madam Pomfrey who look one blink away from packing and leaving for a holiday.

“Only a couple of broken bones,” George states proudly, both his arms and legs  wrapped in what looks like tough bandages.

“Okay so mission capture Filch has got to be moved,” Fred denotes with that glimmer in his eyes, he never did stop scheming, cogs turning in his head at all times.

Hermione looks at the reunited twins with half a smile, “I’m not even going to ask,” she decided.

“For the best,” they reply simultaneously.

Ginny, who immediately jumped herself onto the bed causing a painful look to grace George’s face, on the other hand was very eager to know the plan, as were Harry and Ron. They started asking a series of questions but all the redhead twins did was shake their heads and pass knowing looks between each other.

I laid my head on Hermione’s shoulders as George, Fred, Harry and Ginny started recounting how the quidditch accident even occurred, but instead of starting from where the injury was about to happen they felt the need to start with moment they all walked out onto the pitch. Whilst I had an appreciation for the sport and enjoyed tracking the progress of the Hogwarts teams and as well as the pros I didn’t quite feel like listening to recount of a game I just watched so I hurried them along.

Thankfully I did for just when they finished the sped up version Madam Pomfrey came back over to kick us out, after pleading eyes from the twins she let Fred and I stay a little longer.

“We’ve never spent more than a couple hours apart Madam Pomfrey,” one of them said.

“We’ve got separation anxiety,” the other added.

I hid my mouth behind my palm to keep the escaping giggles undercover, this woman was far from stupid but she was also a very busy woman which meant she was wanted to rest too.

She looked towards me as an anchor to some sort of acceptable behaviour “Only another half hour,” her tone and sight pointed, and I quickly nodded dropping my hand.

When she stepped back into her office all the lights went off, we were free. So, we stayed a little longer than half an hour, at least two hours must have passed for George to fall asleep. I stood up from my seat on armrest of the chair next to the bed, standing next to the older red head that was sat in the said chair.

Even though George wasn’t badly hurt, his bones will grow back by tomorrow, we both knew this could be quite a painful process, as evident by the sweat beads on George’s forehead.  The unease was reflected in Fred’s face, whilst he was a master of jokes and coped a lot with humour there were moments to glimpse under the mask.

A sigh escaped me, and I stepped closer wrapping my arms around him. Standing between his legs he pulled me closer slivering his arms around my waist and letting out a deep breath.

“He’s going to be okay,” I said brushing my through his hair and down his neck.

“I know,” his reply defeatedly, muffled in my clothes.

We stayed like that for another few minutes but admittedly it was getting late and we had to be up in the morning for first lesson, “come on let’s head back to the common room,” I whispered, the silence was peaceful, a charm that I didn’t want to break.

When he stood up I looped an arm around his back, he looked at me, a grin playing on his lips as though some life returned to him “I haven’t done the potions homework,” he admitted. And that was our first lesson in the morning.

“Ah so that’s why you wanted to stay so long ,so you could get me to feel bad and let you copy, not because you were worried about your poor brother,” I teased pulling out of his grip.

He played off a mock offence, a hand to his heart, “how dare you!” he exclaimed when we got to the corridor.

I play punched him in the shoulder but before I could pull away he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to his side laying an arm around my shoulders, “You know I love you,” he said.

“Yeah whatever,” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

Still, I handed him my copy of potions essay before heading up to bed, he ruffled up my hair in response before turning towards the other staircase, turning back to give me a wink. Everyone in the dorm was already asleep so I changed quietly and got into bed, thankful that I wouldn’t get the same questions and teasing about being more than friends with Fred.

Okay so maybe somewhere in the time of knowing Fred I had maybe developed some king of feelings for him but he was my best friend and his family had become my second family so that’s all it was going to be.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I wasn’t nervous as we rode the Hogwarts Express back to London, I had been to the Burrow plenty of times, Hermione and Harry would be joining us in a week and a half and it’ll be like we’re all still at Hogwarts bar the actual lessons and assignment stress so actually just the fun side of it.

“Y/n dear!” Mrs Weasley greeted me on the platform, as warmly as her own kids, a bright smile on her face hair flailing around due to all the havoc of the platform.

After waving our goodbyes to Harry and Hermione we were off to the Burrow, all of us kids updating Mr and Mrs Weasley with stories about some of the crazy things that have happened this year, one of them being Fred and George only failing in like two classes rather than all of them, she looked pleased and shot me a wink, I would proudly take some of the credit.

After settling in and get ready for dinner I stopped beside the entry way to the kitchen.

“Mum you’ve got to stop butting in,” Ginny’s voice echoed.

“I know I know but I only want what’s good for them!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

“I know but I actually think you’re making the situation worse, they’ll get there if you stop putting pressure on it,” Ginny continued.

I heard the shuffling stop, “Since when are you this wise?” Mrs Weasley asked and I could image her daughters grin, “I have some pretty good role models around,” she replied.

“Are you ready to watch Fred be not so subtly questioned by our mother?” a voice said, I turned to watch George stop beside me, “did you know it was rude to eaves drop?” he continued.

“As if you’re some moral authority, this is literally your favourite pastime,” I jabbed back in a whisper.

“Yeah but at least I know how to hide it, you could be caught any moment, scratch that I just caught you,”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on eaves dropping it just kind of happened,”

“What are they saying?” he inquired lowering down to my level and stepping closer to have better reach.

I elbowed him to move away from me, one more step and my not so good hiding place would be discovered.

Before I could answer Mrs Weasley’s voice called out, “Kids dinner is ready!” and I took the opportunity to after a second step into the kitchen and sweetly ask her if she needed any help. After putting out the plates we all sat around passing out the different plates of food and chatting.

Everyone was normal, the chaos was as expected, and it was just perfect. It was the funniest when Mrs Weasley started questioning the twins about whether anyone had caught their eye at Hogwarts to be met with same reply every year. There was so much love passed between each and every single one of these people.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The summer was going blissfully we were now in the second week of August, most of the days filled the same as any, basking in the sun, helping Molly with chores, games in the evening, gossiping with Ginny and Hermione- between the three of us we could cover the gossip of every single year at Hogwarts.

It was the night of a particularly strange weather day, the morning started off very sunny which quickly turned into heaps of downpouring rain, then back to dry, grey fog and then as the evening settled the clouds cleared to showcase the pink and purple sunset.

Ron and Harry had been playing wizard’s chess in Ron’s room for the best part of the evening. Mrs Weasley and us girls were sat in the kitchen playing cards, Mrs Weasley was feeling rather sentimental as Ginny and I started egging on about how there is clearly something going on between Hermione and Ron.

“I mean the stolen glances!” Ginny say before placing down a card.

“Well aren’t you so much of a romantic Gin,” Hermione said, face in her cards she did not deny anything about her and Ron, Ginny and I already knew about her growing crush- which neither could us understand, still she placed her card down and  looked right at Ginny mischievously before turning to Mrs Weasley determinately.

“You’ll be pleased to here that someone has Ginny in their sights,” at this Mrs Weasley starts boasting, of course Ginny is incredibly smart and witty- having grown up with so many brothers bless her- and so beautiful. A knowing look passed between Mrs Weasley and Hermione then, Mrs Weasley knew who Hermione was talking about but at this point Ginny was dating Dean and had given up on her fantasises of Harry.

Then Mrs Weasley’s eyes found mine, she has had a couple glasses of wine making her even more inquisitorial, “And what about you gorgeous girl?” she asked placing a hand on top of mine moving my cards slightly.

I tip my hand back up, “Now Mrs Weasley are you trying to see what my cards hold?” I ask teasingly she huffs and brushes me off, I know she was genuinely asking, “No there is no romance for me at the moment,” I say rather upbeat in comparison to the faces I’m seeing from the other three women.

Placing my last card I end the game with my fifth win in a row, their voices blend into a cacophony of ‘Oh come on!’ and ‘For Merlin’s sake!’ and ‘I demand a rematch!’. And even as I try to excuse myself with the excuse of going to bed they’re not having any of it and so we rematch, and this time I let Mrs Weasley win.

Eventually Mrs Weasley decided that it was in fact time for bed, Mr Weasley had just gotten back from the Ministry, and looked exhausted, it was eleven, I wouldn’t blame him for wanting some quiet time even as he greeted us with his best smile and series of very muggle dad jokes.

The clock on the nightstand read two in the morning when I heard the knocking on my door, at first thinking it must have been a dream, but then it happened again. Rubbing my eyes I stood up into my slippers and walked towards the disrupting sound.

“Fred what do you want it’s two in the morning,” I started slightly agitated but there he was, stood there still in his clothes from earlier when he had supposedly gone to the field with George to try out some of their new items. I could tell that also must have consisted of at least a couple of mugs of fire whiskey.

“I had an argument with George,” he stated blatantly.

Fred and George never fought, yes- they were absolutely horrible to each other with insults and pranks and jabs but they didn’t actually argue, to the point where they couldn’t be in the same room, not once since I’d known them.

“About what?” I tried to sound compassionate but the idea of them arguing over something to do with this new creation seemed so silly, they always jabbed about who had better ideas but ended up mending the two and creating something at least three times better or more efficient or more trouble causing.

He brushed a hand through his hair, “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said the same hand now covering his mouth as a yawn escaped, “Can I come in?” he asked.

Why did he have to do this, it was only going to make it much more painful for the both of us.

“Y/n come on,” he pleaded knowing the cogs in my head were turning, “nothing is going to happen, this doesn’t have to mean anything”

“Fred this isn’t a good idea, go to bed, you and George will be fine in the morning,” I coaxed him.

He took a step back and let out a breath, “Okay I’m gonna go sleep on the sofa,”

I rolled my eyes at his childishness, I watched his back and as he got to the stairs  against my better judgement I stopped him with my voice, “fine,” I said and he turned around fifty percent jollier.

A flashback came clearly to me then, I knew the way Fred felt, he had told you the year prior one evening when we were the last two left in the common room, only the fireplace giving us light.

I sat reading some book and he was working on something for their next product. He had been looking over at me frequently, a warm grin lifting one side of his lips up.

“Okay let me see what you’re working on,” I gave in after a while, he had been waiting for me to ask, just to tell me no.

He shot his hand up in the air, teeth biting into his bottom lip, he laughed as I leaned over to reach. Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the scrolls he leaned backwards, out of reach again, my body shifted to follow it, leaning forwards on my knees.

Again, he pulled back further. I moved closer again, my laugh matching his.

“Come on you can do better than that,” he teased, that’s when the air around us shifted. I looked down to see his face right below mine. It was quiet, so so quiet. My heart started beating faster as his eyes went to my lips then back to my eyes shyly.

My one hand was braced against his shoulder, the other, which was reaching for the papers, lowered down like a dropped feather. I heard the papers he held sweep against the floor. His hands coming to rest on my waist.

A smile still plastered on his face, but not the one when he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t, no, this one was different. Just as ardent and warm but subtler, unsure. As if he had been waiting for us to get into a situation like this.

“Y/n,” it was a question, a request.

I felt my body tense.

He lifted his body higher, his nose almost touching mine, his warmth radiating on me.

I shut my eyes, brows tightening, “I can’t,” I whispered.

His hold faltered but he didn’t let go as he had pulled away. I opened my eyes to meet his, a hurt was buried in them. He didn’t move, waiting.

“I-,” I lifted my hand from his shoulder moving away from him, the lack of his touch on me sobering me up, “Fred- you, George, Ron, Ginny, your parents have been so, so good to me all these years, you’ve become the family that I don’t have at home,”

He looked taken aback at what I said, “What does that have to do with the fact that I like you, I have since that first summer you spent at the Burrow, running around with braids in your hair pretending you had no idea who was causing trouble when you were the propellent, when you told stories of your life before the wizarding world that fascinated everyone at table, it’s like no one could pull their gaze away. And this last year it’s been so hard to stop myself from pulling you close to me, to stop myself from wanting to kiss you,” he explained, almost begging, “and I know you feel at least something towards me I’ve not got the emotional range of a teaspoon,”

My throat had run dry, Fred was not a confession guy, silly romantic gestures sure, making out with people at parities- everyone did, this was unusual, and yet he looked so handsome and real. He knew me through and through, in that moment I felt seen and it was scary when you spent so long trying not to.

“I can’t risk losing you or any of your family, I love and care about all of you too much, I cherish what we all have,” I tried to reason but his head was shaking as the words met his ears.

He got up from the sofa, “I’m going to head up to bed,” his voice strained, he didn’t not look towards me again, he picked up the papers and headed up the boy’s dormitory stairs. He wanted to fight for this, but he respected what I said, it was all true, it’s not like I didn’t think there could be more, but I just couldn’t risk it imploding.

Now I watched him step into the room, feeling very aware of where he was stepping, how he was moving as I closed the door and my eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. This was Fred Weasley my menace best friend nothing more.

I turned around to face him and let out an exhale, he did look as though the argument had seriously upset him, he turned away from my gaze and turned to the window looking out into the now again misty air. I walked up behind him, hand at my sides as I laid my forehead against his back, his muscles relaxed.

“I’m exhausted, let’s get to sleep,” I said lifting my weight from his and moving over to lie back down in bed, watching him in the darkness taking off his shoes and his sweater before he came to lie down beside me under the thin quilt.

Although I was curious to know what the disagreement was about I turned to face away from Fred and curled back up, eyes almost immediately beginning to shut. Just as my body was about to shut back down I felt his hand, he has shifted closer arm around my wait, his face against the back of my neck.

Without much thought I laid one of my hands over his giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The next time I woke up it was still dark outside; the arm was gone and the alarm clock read half past three. Instinctively I turned around, Fred was still lying there staring at the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep?” I whispered.

“Sorry did I wake you up- again?” he ran a hand over his face.

“Fred I really think you’d feel better if you just say what you guys argued about,” then at least it wouldn’t be stuck buzzing around his head.

He turned his head to look at me, even though it was dark I could see his outline perfectly, he smiled, “You’re beautiful,” he said it so quietly you could miss it if you weren’t careful. He turned to face me fully, his finger tracing around my face until he places his palm on my cheek. His look was pleading and my body seemed to make the decision without any logic moving itself closer to him, I wanted to comfort him, I hated seeing my best friend so restless.

“I mean it,” he said, and I nodded.

“I know,”.

When I didn’t move he did, leaning forwards ever so slightly, his lips grazed mine ever so slightly. Then again and again our mouths moved against each other. It was slow and warm and heartfelt.

The he was pulling me close, my head on his chest and his arms pulled around me, holding me close as if I would apparate out of his reach.

It wasn’t regret but instantaneously a sense of dread started forming in my stomach, this wasn’t supposed to happen, it wouldn’t mean anything, we’d have to move on from this as if it never happened.

“That can’t happen again,” I whispered after a moment as I felt the tension building in my stomach, for a second his fingers stopped drawing shapes on my back but after what seemed like a deep breath they continued, Fred said nothing more and by morning light he wasn’t in my bed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next two days at the Burrow were not tense per say but I felt as though I had been walking on an endless tightrope, my heart stopping whenever he came into the room. I tried to act normal, let conversations flow as did he, but never were we alone. It was as though he was avoiding me.

Every time I thought about the kiss it would cause a feeling of someone carving out a gaping hole in my stomach. I told him it was a bad idea and I knew there was no coming back from something like this, nothing would ever be the same. By the third day George had brought it up at breakfast attempting to make a joke but the air was stale.

I had been considering it since I woke up that morning but wasn’t actually sure if I would go through it, now here I was with what seemed like all eyes at the table going between Fred and I, taking an uncomfortable breath the words flew out my mouth “I was thinking of going home for the week,”.

Now all eyes were definitely on me, mostly with concern it would seem. Mrs Weasley looked as if I just said that I’d seen you-know-who standing outside the window, Fred’s eyes shot to me. Most of the Weasleys knew the situation at home wasn’t great, Mr and Mrs Weasley more than most, but Fred knew it all, I gave him a smile, or tried to at least though I’m sure the attempt was feeble.

“Y/n” he perked up, though the lack of his usual charm made my name seem flat in his tone, he was concerned.

“I wouldn’t be a very good daughter if I didn’t at least go tell them that I’m alright, wave to the neighbours you know so they don’t think my parents are some kind of psychopaths who murdered me or something,” I was waffling.

Thankfully Mrs Weasley came to my rescue, “Well of course, you’re allowed to go see your family, but if you want to come ho-” she stopped herself from using the word home, “If you want to come back here sooner just send an owl and one of us will come get you,” she gestured between herself and Mr Weasley who nodded.

After breakfast I went to back, I’d be travelling by the floo network so the journey wouldn’t be long, of course I was planning on coming back here but I think Fred and I need some time apart, to calm the nerves.

Ginny and Hermione were the first to try and talk me out of it whist I was packing, after they gave up George came into the room poking the bear, he knew something had gone down with Fred, of course he did never make it back to their room that night, and it was from then that we haven’t really been speaking.

“It’s nothing serious,” I told him brushing my hair and clipping it to avoid tangles upon arrival, “Nothing really happened we just didn’t agree on something so I think we both need some space,” I reassured him, though I’m sure he knows exactly what happened, him and Fred being almost one person of course.

Fred was in the kitchen when Mrs Weasley held out the pouch of floo powder to me, “See you guys in a few days,” I said and stepped into the flame thinking only about my home back in London.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

I had been away for a day and a half before I sent an owl to Fred, and that very same evening I apparated into the field outside the Burrow, not wanting to wake anyone up or face anyone still awake.

There he was- Fred Weasley waiting in the rain a couple of steps away, hair sticking to his face, his shirt dripping, “Come ‘ere,” he said knowingly.

Dropping my bag, the tears building up in my eyes again I walked towards him, he too was taking steps towards me. The moment I was in reach I was in his embrace, my arms stretched tall around his neck, standing on my tippy toes burying my face in his neck.

He whispered quiet reassurances in my ear as I gripped onto him, he pulled me closer however that was possible. I rearranged my head to see there was still a couple candles lit in the Burrow but none on the bottom floor, everyone must have headed to their rooms, I exhaled in relief.

Fred was a constant. Whether in rain, snow, under siege, or even being the class clown, but he was always there when I needed him and now was no exception.

“They said they didn’t want to see me anymore,” I finally let out. In the letter I only conveyed that I needed to get out of the house, that I’d be back at the Burrow by that night if they’d have me back days earlier than expected. Fred’s reply was short- telling me to stop being daft and to come home. 

“They’re stupid fools,” the determination in his voice mirrored in the way his body tensed. In part I couldn’t blame my parents I mean I’d barley seen them in the last 3 years for more than a couple of days at a time and always preplanned, they were not understanding of the life I had built in the wizarding world.

After taking a few deep breaths to slow the beating of my heart, and the shaking in my voice, “I’m sorry I’m a mess,” I tried to laugh, bring back the teasing nature of our friendship. I was tired of being sad.

Fred peeled back just slightly, his hands still on me, reassuring me, holding me up, his eyes searched my face and he swallowed, “Y/n everyone here,” he pointed back to the house, “Loves you exactly the way you are, every part of you- plus you’re a mess like eighty percent of the time,” he added with half a smirk on his face. I couldn’t help but laugh at this.

After another sassy rebuttal Fred added, “Lets get back to the house before we get sick, that would suck in the last two weeks of peace” he picked up the bag I dropped and we walked to the house as Fred updated me that he caught Ginny and Harry standing very close to each other on one of the staircases the day I was gone, “Swear they were about to kiss, poor Harry,” he sighed. Uh boys.

Upon entering the Burrow it was as though I’d been brought back into the light, the atmosphere was immediately warm and loving, the smells of herbs and wood- familiar. Fred passed me a towel and took one to dry himself off, he seemed to prep them before my arrival. We both got changed before meeting back in the kitchen where Fred was making hot chocolate or rather attempting to.

“I brought you down your favourite sweater,” he said without turning back to me, and there it was, Fred’s Christmas sweater with a large ‘F’ across the front, knitted by our very own Mrs Weasley, I was always trying to steal this one, it was perfectly oversized.

Whilst I was slightly chilly I didn’t bring mine down because I knew I’d warm up but as I put it on I was comforted by the fact that it smelled just like him. This was the one item of clothing that he would never let me borrow because he knew it would mean never getting it back.

“Okay let me help you,” I said walking over to the stove to help him, he looked into my eyes and just smiled before raising his arms up in surrender and stepping half a step away to give me enough space to work.

After lighting the fire in the living room we sat on two sides of the sofa directly in front of it, drinking our hot chocolates and playing a ‘Guess who I am game’ with the other kids at Hogwarts.

Fred straightened slightly under the blanket, “I’m super hot, really funny, everyone wants a piece of me oh and did I mention I’m basically a professional athlete?” he finished.

My head twisted sideways as I observed all his small movements, the way the skin at the side of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, “George?” I asked and he looked immediately offended.

“Excuse you, that’s not right, try again,” he said giving me mercy.

“Hmmm, Harry?” I asked again, he looked bemused, “Oh- I know! Cormac!” I said almost leaping from my seat, at this he pulled a disgusted face

“He’s not even on the team! Plus, he’s disgusting- it was me you numpty,” he said

“You need to work on your character descriptions that’s not very accurate,” I played it off and he kicked me.

It was as if everything was back to normal, whilst going home was low-key traumatic and know I don’t know where I would go after finishing Hogwarts before I can get a job but I knew the Weasleys would help me out if I needed it. There is no place I’d rather be right now then sitting here being silly with my best friend warmed by the fire.

The following days are back to how things were at the start of the summer filled with laughter, pranks, reading and playing Quidditch.

“When will you let yourself be happy my dear?” Mrs Weasley said to me one afternoon, the twins, Ron, Ginny and Hermione and Harry went out to play a game of quidditch. I lifted my head from the lemon I was grating, looking towards her in question.

She gave her warm small, wiping her hands on the worn beige cloth tied to her favourite apron.

“I was young once,” she began and shot a look towards the clock above the fireplace, faces of her whole family and exactly where they at that time gazed back upon her, “Before having to deal with all these kids and getting wrinkles a decade too early,” she laughed and I found myself joining in, leaning on my hand.

“You’re beautiful Mrs Weasley,” I started, “and a bad-ass,” I added waiting for her to scold me for my language but she just sent me a wink.

She came around the table and rested her arms around me, brushing some hair our of my face, “You know you’ll always have us, no matter what hm?” she asked and I nodded lifting my hands to soothe my fingers over her arms smiling, “I see the way you two look at each other,” she said voice dropping to a whisper.

I pulled away slightly to look at her, a knowing smile playing on lips, a warm breeze passing into the kitchen and the distant sound of the others shouting to each other. “Mrs Weasley I-,” I started and she just chuckled.

“The most wonderful things come from doing the scariest things you know,” she took hold of the grater and the lemon I was working on, “I’ll finish up here, you go get some sun, oh and take the lemonade,” she said taking out her wand, a large jug of lemonade appearing on the counter along with some glasses.

“As my mother once said don’t spend your life living with ifs,” she said finally and shooed me out of the kitchen, the air was hot and attacked my skin blissfully, the grass soft under my feet.

“Y/n brought lemonade!” Ginny shouted the second she spotted me, she flew down immediately and I laughed asking who was winning the game as the rest of the group joined us.

Fred, though sweating, glowed, his fiery red hair glittering in the light, cheeks flushed from hours in the sun, light freckles sprinkled across his nose, a bright smile on his face.

“Harry, Hermoine and I are winning by like 140 points,” Gin said shooting glares at the other team, “It’s like they’re not even trying,” she said, that’s when George bumps into her shoulder whilst walking past.

“Ooops,” he said, she just kicked the back of his knees in response and he almost tumbled into the grass.

“Everyone does say I am the stealthier twin,” Fred said grabbing Ginny’s drink from her hand.

“I’ll let you have that as pity, make you feel better about loosing,”

“You forget that we are the ones who taught you, therefore you should be thanking us,”

“Uh actually Bill taught me,” she zeroed in on them with a look of mock disgust.

“That’s why I’m so bad, I had these idiots teach me instead of him,” Ron groaned disappointed and taking a big gulp of the icy drink.

Hermione, Harry and I watched and laughing at the siblings, it’s strange to think life hasn’t always been like this.

“That’s an arrow right to the heart,” Fred smacking his chest over his arm, body moving along with the motion as he came to stand to my right.

George who took Ginny’s drink out of his twin’s hand started sipping, “these comments are why you’re paying double for everything in our shop when we open,”

“Yeah like that’s every happening,” Ron retorted, but little did he know how far along the process of getting everything sorted out the twins were, thanks to Harry whom both the twins now shot a wink.

“Okay let’s do another round after this,” Hermione said, all eyes went to her.

“Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?” Ron said immediately, looking alarmed, but also… full of pride, his eyes soft.

“Thank you,” Fred whispered in my ear as he pulled the drink out of my hand and taking a sip from it, I took as step closed to him and wrapped my arms around his middle. I could feel his eyes shoot downwards at me before he laced his free around my form, his fingers running circles around my back.

“You okay?” he asked, and I just nodded with a smile staying curled up as everyone talked, no one found the need to comment my behaviour and for once I didn’t feel guilty for it, for wanting to be close to him.

“You want to go on a walk around the lake tonight?” I asked Fred as we all headed back inside for dinner an hour later, the whole house smelled amazing, a typical Sunday dinner. Fred agreed though I could see the hesitancy in his eyes, not because he didn’t want to go but it was like he wasn’t expecting it.

So after dinner and a couple rounds of games in the living room with Mr and Mrs Weasley we grabbed jackets and headed out to walk around the lake on their property. I could never understand why anyone could talk badly of the burrow, the house itself whilst rickety was so unique and fantastical and the area around it was even better. Surrounded by fields and trees and a huge lake that reflected the stars, it would never cease to send me in awe.

We sat down, my arm brushing against his, watching the fireflies zooming around the lake surface, reflecting off the darkness like another set of stars.

After a silent minute I turned to him, his skin was clear, eyes softly gazing outwards, his lips a straight line. Only now I had come to consider that the ache that I felt every time we did something, even as nonchalant as writing essays in the library, he was feeling the same thing. He was feeling it now, knowing that I told him we couldn’t be more than friends and here I was dragging him on a romantic walk, but he was so good at hiding it.

“I love you,” I whispered.

He didn’t move at first just shot me a side glance and said “I love you too,” it’s not like we haven’t said it a thousand times before, I always thought it was important to remind you friends and people you cared about that you loved them, those three little words could change the course of someone’s day, week or even their life.

He assumed I’d meant it as I always had, and in a way that was true, he thought I meant it to be friendly but I don’t think it ever was just friendly with him.

I reached out a hand to his check, finger running over his jaw encouraging him to face me, a flashback to that night in the common room, I didn’t pull away this time. He looked at me with such flaming determination in his eyes, like he would do this over and over again until we could make it work, he would torture himself and wait.

My hand slid to the back of his neck, brushing my fingers over the bottom of his hair, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes as if such a simple action could relieve any wrong, any pain.

“I love you,” I stated, this time emphasising the phrase.

Momentarily he didn’t reply, the butterflies in my stomach were flying around nervously, unsure what to do, maybe it was too late.

“Y/n” he said pulling himself out of a trance, pulling away just enough to look into my eyes.

Tears started forming in the corner of my eyes. I leaned forwards our noses touching, he didn’t move. My lips brushed his, cautious at first, he held back. I kissed him again, surer, is hands coming to my warm skin. 

“I don’t want to waste any more time not being with you,” I said forehead pressed against his, “I can’t imagine myself with anyone else, ever,” I added subconsciously, letting out a desperate half chuckle, half sob. Maybe it was because affection and feeling weren’t really a thing displayed at home but that didn’t have to be me.

“I knew you’d love waking up next to me,” he said, a smart smirk now finding its rightful place as he played it cool and tried to make me laugh, defuse the stress dude he liked to call it, but I could see just how much love was behind those eyes.

“Technically you left before I woke up,” I argued

“Yeah I didn’t think you’d like me there that morning,” he said genuinely.

“I always want you there,”

“Oh I am going to abuse the fact that you said that and annoy the wits out of you,” he laughed.

Before I could give him a comeback he placed his pointer finger onto my lips, “There are more important things to do right now than intellectual debating,” he said enunciating every word very precisely.

One of my brows shot up in question but he basically just leaped at me, pushing my whole body back, his over mine, arms either side of my head, “I love you too,” he said before lowering himself down to kiss me, he smiled into the kiss, there’s no other feeling like it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

This is how three years after finishing Hogwarts and two years since the twins opened their shop Fred was kneeling in front of me at the burrow on Christmas eve. Surrounded by family and friends he decided to pull out a real ring during a game of charades (Mr Weasley’s new favourite muggle game).

“Will you marry me?” he asked earnestly, and this was exactly the way I would’ve wanted it. Tears falling down my face I agreed and as he raised himself to put the ring on my hand, I simply threw my arms around him. He let out a laugh and pressed a kiss to my throat.

Pulling away I looked around the room, everyone was cheering, Hermione, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and Fleur (Bill’s wife) were shedding tears rushing to get up and congratulate me.

“Thank Merlin I don’t think I could’ve listened to him anymore about this!” George said as the room erupted in laughter.

As Fred was putting the ring on my hand I asked, “How long was this in the plan then?” I asked curious.

“Eh I’d say since about halfway through second year at Hogwarts,” he said with a feign agitated glare brushing us all off, I looked up at Fred, he pulled my close, leaning his head on mine.

“But we’ve all known about this actual plan for about a year and a bit,” Mrs Weasley said, “Obviously he wanted to get the shop settled first and finish school,”.

At that Ginny perked up, “No he didn’t- he wanted to propose to you at the end of that summer you finally got together but mum said no, that you deserved better,”.

Fred let out a laugh at this.

“And I was right,” Mrs Weasley said patting Fred on the shoulder, “Look at you guys,”. We continued the game, and everyone was in a cheery mood, we laughed and shouted at each other (we’re a very competitive family) and it gave me a warm giddy feeling inside.

He knew for so long that he wanted to be with me to marry me, how could I ever think I could move on from Fred Weasley and be happy, I was stupid.

“I would have said yes back then too,” I whispered to Fred that night as we were both readily drifting off to sleep.

I watched him smile with his eyes closed, “I knew you would, but you deserve the best, mum was right,”

“Oh my Merlin!” I immediately shot out of his arms and sat up in bed, he followed in concern.

“What?”

“You just said your mum was right, you’ve never admitted this out loud and I can’t wait to tell her,” I exclaimed dramatically pretending to get out of bed.

He pushed my head away before wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back down, “Firstly shut up, secondly I don’t really want to talk about my mum my first night in bed with my finance” he said and gave that mischievous grin.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked brow raised, and then he was kissing me.

MASTERLIST

[writingpandagoth]

I love post war Snape and just read your fic ‘I will wait for you’ and ‘After the storm’.

Soooo i have an idea.

Severus survive the war but y/n end up in coma after war. And Severus go to see her in hospital, he reads to her, sits by her for days and prays that she will finally wake up.

Hey!

I hope this makes sense. I am currently running on three coffee's and desperately need something to eat!😂

But I hope you enjoy anyways.❤️

Home To Me

He wasn’t supposed to survive.

That had been the plan—unspoken, but no less certain. Do the job. Play the part. Die before he had to face what came after.

But fate had other ideas. Or maybe it simply forgot to finish what it started.

He woke in a hospital bed with his chest bandaged, lungs aching, and magic flickering faintly beneath his skin like the last coals of a dying fire. It had taken days to stop seeing red when he closed his eyes. Weeks before he could walk without feeling like the floor might disappear.

No visitors. Of course not. What did he expect?

He had taught children for years and most still thought him a monster. He had risked his life for a cause and none of them knew it. No medals. No forgiveness. Just silence, and the scrape of time moving forward without him.

But he hadn’t thought of you.

Not until he heard your name.

A passing mention. A whispered report between two Healers outside his ward.

“…Spell Damage—she’s one of the coma cases. Curse to the head, I think. (Y/L/N), yeah. Still unresponsive. Poor thing.”

The world didn’t stop.

But he did.

Your name kept echoing long after the voices were gone.

(Y/L/N).

It wasn’t a common name. Not someone else. Not coincidence.

It was you.

He pushed himself up too fast. The room spun. His body rebelled. Pain bloomed under his ribs like fire across fragile parchment, but he didn’t stop.

He needed confirmation.

He needed proof.

His feet hit the floor hard, the cold stinging through thin hospital slippers. He grabbed the edge of the bed for balance, but even that wasn’t enough—his legs buckled, knees locking from the strain. He gritted his teeth.

He staggered toward the door, still half-tethered to a monitoring charm and an IV line humming with restorative potion. Something yanked against his arm and tore free with a high-pitched hiss. His pulse raced.

He burst into the corridor, shoulder hitting the frame, robes loose around him, eyes wild.

“Miss—” His voice cracked. He tried again, louder. “Miss (Y/L/N)! Is she—where is she?!”

A nurse spotted him instantly.

“Professor Snape—sir, you can’t—!”

“Where is she?!” His voice was hoarse, barely more than gravel and fury. “I heard you—I heard you say her name. Is she here?”

“Sir, please—you need to—”

“Tell me!” he shouted, loud enough to make two other staff flinch. “Is she here? Is she—is she alive?”

He didn’t realize he was swaying until a pair of hands caught him by the arms. Another nurse appeared at his other side, trying to steady him.

“You’re not well enough to walk, sir, please—”

“Don’t tell me what I can do—is it her?” His voice cracked. He sounded broken. He was.

They exchanged glances.

Finally—finally—one of them nodded. “Yes. She was brought in the night of the battle. She’s stable but… unresponsive. Long-term spell trauma. She’s been in Spell Damage ever since.”

Something in him collapsed then—not physically, not yet—but inside. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d held was released like a wound unbound.

He bent forward slightly, both hands trembling.

“I need to see her,” he whispered.

“And you will,” the nurse said softly. “But not yet. Please. You’ll tear the sutures. You’ve only just—”

“I don’t care.”

“But I am sure she would,” the nurse said gently. “She’s not going anywhere. Let us get you well enough to walk without falling over. Then you can see her.”

He stopped fighting after that.

Not because he agreed.

But because that sentence stole all the strength from his bones.

You would.

Of course you would. You were always maddeningly stubborn about his well-being. You had a way of watching him like no one ever had—with expectation, not pity. Like you believed he could be someone worth worrying about.

The nurse helped him back into bed. He didn’t speak. Didn’t resist. Just let the blankets settle over his lap, heart hammering and lungs aching like he’d been sprinting through a battlefield all over again.

They left him alone after that.

And that’s when it truly hit.

You were alive and breathing and in this very building, maybe only floors away—but you couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him, couldn’t speak.

He stared at the ceiling, the walls, the dim glow of the enchanted sconces overhead. Minutes blurred into hours. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes—your smile across the staff table, the way you tilted your head when you were trying not to laugh at him, the fierce light in your eyes the day you hexed a Death Eater mid-duel.

He had thought of you often during the war. More than he ever let show. You were one of the few things he allowed himself to hope for—quietly, uselessly. Now that hope curled sharp in his gut like something poisonous.

Because now you were so close… and still completely out of reach.

He turned on his side slowly, gingerly. The movement pulled at the stitches. He didn’t care.

His voice was hoarse, barely audible in the quiet, but he spoke anyway.

“Don’t do this to me.”

It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t anger. Just a whisper into the dark.

He imagined you there. Not the motionless version the Healers described, but you—alive, snarky, warm, full of fire. You would roll your eyes at him right now. You would tell him to stop being dramatic. You’d probably tuck a blanket around him and threaten to hex the nurse who let him fall out of bed.

His throat closed.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” he said.

And then, softer:

“I didn’t get to tell you.”

He didn’t say the words. Not yet.

Not when you couldn’t hear them.

So he just repeated your name, once, like a prayer.

And didn’t sleep at all.

The nurse didn’t say much that morning.

She just brought his walking robe, helped him into it with the quiet care of someone who’d seen too many kinds of grief, before guiding him out into the corridor.

The corridors of St. Mungo’s were quieter than he expected.

Maybe the world was still mourning. Maybe he was too far gone to notice the living.

The nurse didn’t rush him. She let him walk slowly, one hand lightly at his elbow, only steadying him when his steps faltered. He didn’t speak. He kept his eyes ahead. Kept breathing.

When they reached the room, she paused outside the door.

“Healer checked on her an hour ago,” she said quietly. “Still stable. No change.”

Her voice was gentle, but distant—like she already knew nothing she could say would matter right now.

“Take your time,” she continued softly. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

He didn’t respond. Just nodded.

And then she opened the door.

It was colder than he expected. Not in temperature—just… quiet. Too still. A silence that had settled like dust in the corners. Like even the room had forgotten how to wait.

He stood in the doorway for a long time.

One hand still on the frame, as if letting go would drop him into something he wasn’t ready to survive.

Then, slowly, he stepped inside.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

You were there.

Laid out against pristine white sheets that made your skin look too pale by comparison. There were no tubes, no blood, no violent marks. Just stillness.

His eyes locked on your chest, watching—waiting—until he saw it rise.

Slow. Shallow.

But there.

His body moved before his mind did. One foot forward. Then another.

Crossing the room felt like dragging himself through water. Every part of him screamed to reach you, to run, to fall apart—yet all he could do was walk.

Measured. Careful.

As if you might vanish if he stepped too fast.

When he reached the side of the bed, he stopped.

His breath hitched.

You looked like yourself. Peaceful in a way that made him want to scream.

He just looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time since the battle.

The line of your jaw. The curve of your mouth. The faint crease between your brows that never quite smoothed, even in sleep.

You were here.

Alive.

And yet you weren’t with him.

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he reached for you. He hesitated—his fingers hovering just above yours.

And then, slowly, he let them fall.

He took your hand.

Not tightly.

Just enough.

Warm.

Real.

His knees buckled. He sat down hard in the chair beside your bed, all the strength draining from him in one terrible, silent rush.

He bowed his head.

Shoulders rigid. Spine curled in. One hand gripping yours, the other clenched white-knuckled in his lap.

No words.

No tears.

Just breath. Sharp. Staggered.

He had been holding himself together for days. For weeks. Since the moment he woke up in that hospital bed and realized the world had gone on without him.

This was the first time he allowed himself to break.

And he did.

Silently.

Utterly.

Sitting at your bedside, forehead nearly brushing the mattress, still holding your hand like it was the only thread keeping him in the world.

He didn’t speak.

But if he had, the words would have been simple.

Don’t leave me.

—

The next morning, he came back.

He dressed slowly. Every movement felt deliberate, like his body didn’t quite trust itself yet. The simple act of pulling on clean robes left his shoulders aching. The mirror above the sink offered a reflection he barely recognized—thinner than he remembered, skin still sallow with recovery, hair too long and unkempt.

But his eyes were clear.

And they were focused.

He didn’t ask for help on the walk this time.

No nurse at his elbow. No guiding hand.

Just slow, careful steps down the corridor, one after another, until the familiar door rose up in front of him like something sacred.

He stood there for a moment, his fingers curled loosely at his side. Not hesitating. Just... adjusting. To the reality that you were still on the other side of that door. Alive. Still breathing.

He pushed it open quietly.

The air inside hadn’t changed. It still carried the faint scent of healing potions and clean linens, but there was something else now too—something almost warm, familiar.

You.

The light from the high windows spilled across your bed, catching on the strands of your hair where they fanned out across the pillow.

He walked to the chair slowly, watching you the whole way.

Still. Just as before.

He lowered himself into the seat with a soft exhale, bracing a hand against the armrest as he settled.

No noise. No dramatic pause.

Just... quiet.

He looked at your face.

Not in the way someone checks for signs of life—he already knew you were breathing—but in that steady, searching way of someone who hadn't allowed themselves to look for too long.

The shadows under your eyes.

The slope of your cheek.

The faint twitch in your fingers—maybe reflex, maybe nothing at all.

His gaze softened without permission.

One hand moved to rest on the bed between you. Not touching yours. Not yet.

He didn’t speak.

But the silence was different now—less like grief, and more like reverence.

He stayed there for what felt like hours.

His fingers traced idle patterns against the hem of the blanket. He leaned forward once, as if to say something—but didn’t. Words still felt dangerous. Too final. Too loud.

So he stayed silent.

He counted your breaths.

Listened to the faint tick of the healing charm tucked beneath your mattress.

Breathed with you.

For the first time since the war, he didn’t feel the weight of the world pressing in on him.

Just the weight of this moment.

Of you.

Of not being alone.

—

He visited again the next Day.

Not out of obligation. Not out of guilt.

He simply couldn’t stay away.

The walk was easier now—less painful, more surefooted. But he still moved slowly, not because he had to… but because part of him feared the moment he reached your door. That something might have changed. That the breath he clung to yesterday might not be there today.

When he entered the room, everything was exactly as he left it.

The light through the window had shifted, softer now, gold where yesterday had been grey.

You were still.

But your chest rose.

And that was enough.

He approached quietly, the familiar ache curling low in his ribs as he neared your bedside.

The chair had not moved. He didn’t even think the nurses cleaned it—perhaps they knew now it was his.

He sat with a soft groan, hands folded in his lap.

There was a new chart at the end of your bed. He didn’t read it. He didn’t need numbers.

He watched you.

The soft lines of your face.

The faint flutter of your lashes, unmoving.

He found, to his surprise, that his shoulders weren’t as tight today. That his hands no longer trembled when he reached to place them near yours.

Not touching. Not today.

But close.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment.

And when he opened them, he whispered your name.

Barely a sound.

More breath than voice.

But it was the first thing he’d spoken since the day he saw you.

And it did not shatter him.

So he said it again.

Once more.

Then leaned back in the chair, arms folded gently, and let the silence settle between you.

Comfortable now.

Like something shared.

By the third morning, the nurses no longer stopped him in the corridor.

They simply nodded when they saw him coming and stepped aside.

He wore real robes this time—not the soft cotton of hospital clothes, but black, proper layers, freshly laundered and a little too stiff from disuse.

It felt strange to wear something like dignity again.

But you deserved that.

He entered the room a little faster than before, his gait no longer uncertain. Still careful, but not frail.

The moment he saw you, his chest loosened.

You hadn’t changed.

Still warm.

Still breathing.

He sat without hesitation.

This time, his fingers reached for yours.

He let them rest lightly over the backs of your knuckles, brushing there with barely-there contact—like a secret he couldn’t quite bring himself to say aloud.

“You’d hate this,” he murmured. “Me, fussing.”

The words surprised him.

He hadn’t meant to speak.

But they didn’t feel wrong.

“You always told me I was too cold,” he added, eyes on your still hand beneath his. “And now look at me. Coming to sit with you like some tragic character in a bloody romance novel.”

A pause.

He swallowed.

“I don��t care.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

The warmth of your skin beneath his fingers was answer enough.

—

He didn’t sleep much the night before his release.

Not because of nightmares—those had dulled, faded into a background ache—but because something in him couldn’t stop thinking of tomorrow.

Leaving.

He hated the idea of waking somewhere that wasn’t down the hall from you.

But he’d been cleared. Signed off. Physically sound. No longer a patient.

Just a man.

Just a man with nowhere to be except here.

He came earlier than usual. The nurse on the morning shift blinked in surprise, but said nothing.

Your door opened without resistance.

The chair greeted him like it knew he’d return.

He sat more slowly today.

Not from pain—but to memorize every step of it.

He looked at you longer before speaking.

“I didn’t think I'd make it.”

Then, quieter:

“I didn’t think we’d both make it.”

He touched your hand fully now. Held it between both of his.

It wasn’t just for comfort anymore.

It was for connection.

“I’ll come back,” he said, with more certainty than he had spoken anything in weeks.

He leaned forward, rested his forehead lightly on your hand.

—

He didn’t bring flowers.

You would have teased him for that.

The thought—your voice in his mind, soft and amused—made his chest tighten as he stepped into the room again, slower than usual, as if the space felt heavier now that he returned by choice, not necessity.

You looked the same.

Of course you did.

The stillness hadn’t changed. The pale, too-quiet peace of you lying there. It should have brought him comfort by now, the consistency of it—but it didn’t. It ached more. Because every time he returned, a part of him hoped today would be different.

He crossed the room and sat, fingers folding together over his knees.

He looked at your face for a long time.

That beautiful, infuriating, unforgettable face.

“I never told you,” he said, barely more than a whisper, “how often I listened for your footsteps in the corridor.”

His eyes stayed on you, but something inside him flinched at the truth in the words.

“I’d hear you walking past my office, just... existing. Laughing with Hooch or offering to bring tea to someone. I used to think it was foolish. How much you had to give.” His lips twisted faintly, not quite a smile. “And I kept wondering why you wasted any of it on me.”

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

“You never asked for anything. You were just... there. Always. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Especially then.”

His voice broke slightly on the next breath.

“I wanted to tell you once, you know. At the gates. The night before everything went to hell.”

He reached forward, hesitated, then gently brushed a thumb along the back of your hand.

“I saw you standing there. Wand in hand. Determined. Terrified. And I thought... if I don’t come back, I hope you find someone who loves you the way I never learned how to.”

He swallowed hard.

“But then I did come back. And you didn’t.”

His hand curled into yours properly now. Not light. Not cautious.

Anchored.

“I’m trying to be better for you,” he murmured. “Even if you never wake up to see it. I just want to be the man you waited for.”

He lowered his head slightly, forehead nearly brushing your wrist.

And in that soft space between silence and breath, Severus Snape closed his eyes and let himself want.

Not for a miracle.

But for you.

—

The days blurred.

Not because they were empty—but because they were full in ways no one else seemed to understand.

Severus came every day. Without fail.

He no longer needed help walking. No longer hesitated at your door. He simply arrived, as constant as the morning light through the window, robes trailing behind him, a book tucked under one arm, your favorite tea in the other—even though you couldn’t drink it.

Sometimes he’d just sit and talk.

Other days, he’d read.

But always, he stayed.

The hospital room changed around him.

Fresh flowers appeared. The bed linens were swapped out for something softer, something he paid for personally. Your favorite blanket from home lay folded at the foot of your bed, and he made sure it was laid across you each evening before he left.

The nurses stopped seeing him as a visitor.

He became part of the ward.

There were whispers, of course. At first, soft pity—people wondering how long he’d keep it up. But then the days became weeks. The weeks became months.

And Severus was still there.

Not broken anymore. Not waiting for a miracle.

Just… loving you.

The kind of love no one noticed before.

The kind of love that didn’t ask for anything in return.

He read everything.

Classic novels. Potions journals. Your own notes, found among your belongings. His voice was steady, clear, low and rough in the best way. There was something hypnotic about the way he read—as if each word was chosen not from the page, but from somewhere inside him.

Sometimes, when the ward was quiet, nurses paused in the corridor to listen.

They never interrupted.

Just stood there, leaned quietly against the wall, and watched as Severus turned each page with careful fingers, voice soft, one hand always resting gently over yours.

He never noticed.

Or maybe he did—but he didn’t care.

You were the only audience that mattered.

He braided your hair once, when it grew too long and tangled. His fingers were clumsy, awkward, but he took his time. Whispered apologies when he tugged too hard. Smoothed strands back behind your ear like you could feel him.

He trimmed your nails.

Massaged your hands when they grew stiff.

There was a day when he brought a radio and played a sonata he remembered you humming under your breath the winter before the war.

He didn’t say anything as the music played.

He just watched your face, his thumb stroking slowly across your knuckles.

The nurses found reasons to pass by more often on those days.

Just to get a glimpse of the silent love.

—

He turned the corner toward your room, just as he always did.

Same time. Same slow gait. Same breath held in his chest like it might hold back the worst.

But this time, something was off.

He noticed it instantly—the cluster of nurses standing outside your door. Not passing by. Not tending to charts. Just standing.

Whispering.

Their faces unreadable.

His steps faltered.

Panic didn’t hit all at once—it crawled up his spine slowly, tightening everything in its path.

He stopped several feet away.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They were angled toward the door, heads bowed together in hushed conversation. Not laughing. Not smiling. Just… murmuring.

And the door to your room was closed.

It was never closed.

His heart began to hammer, sharp and rhythmic like a warning spell. He could hear his pulse in his ears, feel it at his throat.

Something had happened.

He forced himself forward, jaw clenched tight, his limbs cold despite the warmth of the hall. One of the nurses turned and noticed him at last.

Her expression didn’t shift into panic.

But it didn’t calm him either.

“Professor,” she greeted gently, voice too smooth. Too careful.

He stared at her. At all of them. “What’s going on?”

The others looked back at the door, then at him.

“Just… go see,” the nurse said. “You should look for yourself.”

No explanation.

No comfort.

Nothing to hold onto.

He could barely feel his legs as he moved to the door. His hand shook when he reached for the handle.

He didn’t know what he expected—he never let himself imagine outcomes. Not anymore.

But dread bloomed in his chest like poison.

He opened the door.

And froze.

There were Healers inside. Three of them. Standing close to the bed, their backs blocking his view.

Their voices were low, clinical.

He stepped inside, but not fully—his feet rooted to the floor like his body was trying to shield itself.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “What’s happening?”

The Healers turned toward him, slowly, and there—there—was something in their faces he didn’t recognize at first.

Not grief.

Not apology.

Something else.

One of them gave a faint smile.

Then they stepped aside.

And there you were.

Sitting up in bed.

Your hair limp and tangled around your shoulders, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and confusion, skin pale against the blankets.

But you were looking at him.

Awake.

Here.

Something inside Severus fractured.

All the careful control he’d built in these months—the poise, the silence, the patience—it shattered.

His breath caught, ragged and sharp.

He staggered forward before he realized he’d moved.

His knees hit the floor beside your bed with a hollow sound, hands gripping the blanket, because he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.

You blinked slowly, brows drawing in.

Your voice was hoarse, raw from disuse. “…Severus?”

He choked on the sound of it.

His name, from your lips.

He bowed his head against the mattress, shoulders beginning to shake—quiet at first, just the trembling of breath that refused to steady.

Then he broke.

All the love he hadn’t said. All the fear he had buried. All the prayers he hadn’t dared speak aloud. It poured out in silence and in tremors, in the way he clutched the edge of the blanket like it might disappear, in the way he leaned in closer—finally, blessedly closer.

You tried to lift your hand, slow and shaky, and when your fingers brushed through his hair, it undid him.

He turned his face into your palm and wept—not violently, not loudly.

Just honestly.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you opened your eyes.

But you didn’t expect to see him.

Not like this.

On his knees beside your bed, face buried in the blankets, shoulders trembling with the weight of something he’d kept buried too long.

And it wasn’t just shock that struck you. It was the sheer force of him. How utterly broken he looked in that moment. Not composed. Not cutting. Not distant.

Just Severus. Undone.

Your fingers had barely brushed his hair, but it was enough.

Enough to make him lean into your palm like a man who’d been starving for the feel of you.

The Healers still stood at the edge of the room, their presence suddenly too loud, too much.

They exchanged a look.

Then, without a word, they stepped out and closed the door behind them.

Silence fell like a blanket, thick and heavy, save for the quiet, stuttering rhythm of Severus’s breath where he knelt beside you.

You swallowed, your voice thin and shaky.

“…Severus.”

He lifted his head.

His face was damp, his eyes red—but open. Unhidden.

For a long moment, he couldn’t speak. He just looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

You offered a trembling smile. “You don’t have to cry, you know…”

His mouth moved like he wanted to argue. But the breath he let out was shaky—half a laugh, half a sob.

You shifted slightly under the sheets, weak but steady, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

He turned into the touch instinctively, his own hand rising to catch yours—press it against his face like something sacred.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “Every day I came here—I watched you breathe, but you were gone. You were right there, and I couldn’t reach you.”

His hand tightened around yours, not enough to hurt—just enough to feel.

“And I kept thinking… what if this is all that’s left of us? What if I never hear your voice again? What if I never get the chance to tell you that—” His voice cracked.

He dropped his head, forehead pressing to your hand.

“…that I love you.”

You froze.

The room felt impossibly still.

His voice was hoarse, barely audible. “I loved you before the war. Before everything fell apart. I just never told you. I thought there would be time. And then there wasn’t.”

You could feel his breath against your wrist. Warm. Shaky. Honest.

“I would have stayed like that forever,” he whispered. “Reading to you. Sitting beside you. If that was the only way I could have you… I would’ve done it until I died.”

Your heart ached.

He raised his eyes again—so open, so unbearably vulnerable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he breathed.

You let your eyes close against the weight of his truth.

And when you opened them again, there was only him.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

He stilled.

Completely.

You felt his fingers tense just slightly around yours—like he needed to anchor himself in the moment.

You swallowed again, voice softer now. “I didn’t know how to say it, not with everything falling apart around us. I kept telling myself I’d tell you after the war. When it was safe. When we were both still breathing.”

Your voice trembled on the last word.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came.

So you pressed on.

Your fingers found his again, weak but certain.

“I thought about you… all the time. Before the battle. During. Even when it all started to go black.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t stop. “I kept thinking—I didn’t get the chance. To tell you.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped your chest, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “Seems like we’re both terribly good at not saying things.”

Severus made a small sound—something like agreement, something like grief—and ducked his head slightly, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

And then you laughed—soft, wet, helpless. “But of course you had to beat me to it, didn’t you?”

He lifted his gaze, eyes shining with something that looked almost like disbelief.

“I didn’t think I’d get the chance to hear it,” he said quietly.

You gave him a faint smile, exhausted but full of something brighter.

“You didn’t think I’d let you out-confess me, did you?”

And for the first time in what felt like years, he laughed.

Truly laughed.

Low and shaky, but real.

He didn’t move at first.

But you could feel it.

The ache in his silence.

The thousand words he was holding back now that he finally had something to lose again.

You gave his hand the faintest squeeze. “Severus.”

That was all it took.

He stood slowly, fingers never leaving yours, and leaned over the bed—not looming, not rushing—just a man closing the final inches between two hearts that had waited far too long.

You lifted your hand to his face, fingers brushing along the sharp edge of his jaw.

He leaned into the touch like it was air after drowning.

His eyes searched yours, still uncertain, still trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t allowed himself to hope.

“May I…?” he whispered.

You didn’t need to ask what he meant.

You nodded once.

And then he kissed you.

Not with urgency.

Not with hunger.

But with a reverence so profound it made your breath catch before your lips even met.

His mouth was warm and careful against yours, trembling just slightly—like he was still half-afraid you’d disappear if he held you too tightly. You kissed him back with all the strength you could manage, your fingers curling in the collar of his robes as if to anchor him there, in this moment, where nothing else mattered.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was hesitant. A little uneven. Breathless.

But it was real.

And after everything… it was perfect.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again. You could feel the way he exhaled—slow, shaky, full of a kind of peace you hadn’t felt since before the war.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice barely a sound. “Every version of you. Even the one who never answered.”

Your heart cracked open and mended at once.

You reached for him, tugging weakly at his robes.

He understood.

Without hesitation, he eased himself onto the bed beside you—slow, careful, his body curling around yours like a shield. His arms slid around your waist, tentative but grounding. He held you like you were precious, not breakable. Like something sacred returned to him after being lost too long.

You tucked your face into the hollow of his throat.

He pressed his lips to your temple.

And for the first time in months, both of you fell asleep listening to the other breathe.

At peace.

[hyper-fics-sationn]

Emotionally break severus. Thats my only need.

He can cum as a treat. But i need to see him crumble like a wet sandcastle.

I feel like this is the best ‘ask’ to fit with what’s been written for this first chapter… ask and you shall receive 🤭

18+ smuuuuuuutty, denial, emotional, and more smut

6.4k+ words

Severus Snape and the Human Condition

Chapter one:

No Complaining, Just Compliance

“This can't be happening,” … “Surely not…” … “Not to me.” were just some of the muffled words she could hear through the thin gap from his door not being closed properly.

Professor Snape didn't usually leave his chamber door open, not even a little crack, so this was a rarity. She knew he would've never done this on purpose. She knew he wasn't acting his usual self in there, and most importantly, she knew how he would react if he knew she was watching. She squinted her eyes slightly when she heard him groan, “I can't…”, followed by placing his head in his hands and exhaling loudly, almost angrily. She moved herself closer to the chamber door to try and get a better view of what was happening and attempt to hear what he was mumbling into his hands. She watched closely and intently as he paced about the room with his face still covered, growing more and more visibly distressed. He stopped suddenly and exhaled loudly, but when he brought his hands away from his face, their eyes met. In that split second, she witnessed him see red. Pure, humiliated, furious, red.

Eleanor quickly moved her head and flattened her back against the wall, breathing heavily. She listened carefully and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to work out if she could hear Snape’s footsteps coming toward the door. Part of her wanted to admit that she had been listening to and watching him, but part of her also wanted to run. She knew he knew that she had been there. She felt a little anxious, or even excited, perhaps, of how he was about to react.

She swallowed hard and nervously pressed her fingertips into the stone when his footsteps came closer to the door. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the door creaked open further, her heart beating madly in anticipation for his reaction.

“Miss Eleanor, I do not know why you would wait outside my classroom door and not enter it,” Professor Snape spoke in an eerily calm tone, “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and… offer an explanation.”

“I…” Eleanor looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I think you will.” He spoke in a firmer tone, pushing the door open and holding it for her to walk through.

Eleanor inhaled sharply and walked inside, slightly uneasy from the placid way he was acting; although they had been seeing each other a little while, even intimately on occasion, he still didn't strike her as someone who would be willing to show that kind of emotion that she had just witnessed.

“Is everything alright, Severus?” She asked, watching him cautiously as he walked over to his desk.

Severus remained silent with his back to her, grasping the edge of his desk ask he rolled up onto his tiptoes a couple of times. Eleanor continued to approach him and placed a hand upon his bicep, speaking softly, “Severus?”

“How… dare.. you…” He muttered lowly.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor spoke nervously, squeezing his arm.

“How dare you?!” Severus bellowed this time, spinning around and unlatching her hand from him in the process.

Eleanor stumbled back slightly and widened her eyes, gazing upon his furious face. He was breathing heavily and his face was crimson with rage, hands now behind him on his desk. Eleanor blinked hard, afraid steam was about to start coming out from his ears.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor repeated, though this time even more timidly.

“No, you aren't,” Severus glared, “If you were, you would not have continued snooping.”

“I can't… wasn't…” She struggled with her wording, afraid of saying the wrong thing at this point.

“Do not lie to me, Miss Eleanor.” Severus snapped.

“Then, tell me what it was that I was snooping on!” Eleanor suddenly exclaimed the words faster than her brain could process.

“Excuse me?!” Severus stepped forward, his nostrils flaring in anger, “You have no right!”

“To what?” She tried to act less scared than she was, “Ask why the man who I have been spending the majority of my evenings with why he looked so distressed?!”

“Eleanor, I am warning you…” He raised his hand, pointing his finger as his hands trembled in anger.

“Severus, please,” Eleanor narrowed her eyebrows, exhaling shakily, “Tell me…”

“I owe you nothing.” Severus responded coldly.

“We can talk about what I saw, Severus.” Eleanor attempted.

“You saw nothing.” Severus snarled.

“You were-!” Eleanor protested.

“Nothing!” Severus exclaimed.

“Why is it that I can share your bed but not your thoughts?” Eleanor sighed in frustration.

“Just because you open your legs so willingly for me, it does not mean that I open my mouth so willingly for you.” Severus spoke in a cruel tone, though his expression not changing.

Eleanor’s eyes widened and she inhaled deeply, genuinely taken back by the harshness of Severus’ comment. The minute she even attempted to open her mouth, he began to advance toward her, wand now in hand with a ferocious look on his face.

“I invited you in here to make sure you do not snoop again, and that what you saw or heard did not happen.”

Eleanor looked up at him, “But it did happen, Severus,” She spoke flatly, “And every time it does happen, every time you break that stiff exterior, you refuse to acknowledge it! Will you ever tell me?” She narrowed her eyebrows, “I just don't understand how we can be that close in the dark, and yet you cannot tell me…”

“Listen to me!” Severus towered over her, gritting his teeth. Eleanor’s heart was beating madly; both from having the nerve to question him and also being mildly afraid of how he was about to react, “There is nothing to tell.”

She could feel his breath against her face from how close their faces now were and she played with her fingers nervously, daring herself to look up at him. She was growing sick of him acting like this. Every time she tried to encourage him to open up, he would grow tirelessly defensive.

“Severus, I saw—!”

“Obli—!” Severus raised his wand before being thrown off as Eleanor quickly ducked and darted to the other side of his classroom.

“What the fuck, Severus?!” Eleanor gasped, placing one hand over her mouth and one hand over her chest, her eyes wide.

“I… I—” Severus blinked quickly, his back still to her.

‘What the hell were you thinking?! What have you done…’ were just the start of the thoughts now rushing through Severus’ mind. Usually confident in his outbursts, he now found himself speechless at his own actions. He could hear Eleanor’s heavy breathing from across the room, shocked that she was even still in there, actually.

Slowly, he turned around. His wand was still shaking in his hand and he quickly slipped it into his pocket once their eyes met, swallowing hard as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Did you…” Eleanor paused to inhale deeply, “Did you just try to obliviate me?!”

“You… I had to!” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, “You weren't supposed to see what you saw! You weren't supposed to hear-!”

“Hang on, are you blaming me?!” Eleanor’s jaw dropped, scoffing in disbelief as Severus attempted to ramble a response;

“You don't get to see that, Eleanor! Nobody gets to see what's inside!” His voice raised marginally, “Not what goes on inside here!” He pointed to his temple, face now flushed red again.

“Then, don't leave your fucking classroom door open!” Eleanor shouted back.

“It was not open, it was ajar, and it did not hold an open invitation for someone to come spying on a situation which was not meant for them!” Severus was seething, barely able to control his breathing at this point.

“By which you mean to resolve by obliviating me?!” Eleanor scowled in disbelief.

“How the hell else was I supposed to stop you from telling anyone?!” Severus’ fists clenched by his sides.

“By trusting me?!” Eleanor spoke in a loud, obvious tone, “By telling me what it is that is bothering you? What made you so emotional in the first place?!” She opened her mouth again before he even had a chance to respond, “You let me into your bed but not into your head, let me help you, Severus!”

“This is exactly why I tried to do it…” he mumbled quietly, closing his eyes and huffing loudly before dipping his head and feeling his lip twitch as he tried to muster as much concentration as possible.

“Severus, if you are doing what I think you are doing…” Eleanor tilted her head, raising her eyebrows, “I know far too well that you are skilled enough to cast a spell without the use of your wand.”

“Agh, you are making me do it!” Severus bellowed as he lifted his head, spitting with anger as his black eyes pierced through the greasy curtains of hair now hanging over his face, “Look what you've done!”

“What I have done?!” Eleanor scoffed in disbelief, “I am done with this, Severus,” she shook her head and stormed toward the door, turning back to look over her shoulder and speaking as she placed her hand on the handle, “I don't know how you expect us to go any further if you think that the only way to deal with me witnessing your insecurities is to wipe them from my memory completely. Through all that hard, cold exterior, I thought you were better than that. Thank you for proving me wrong.”

“Even more proof that you should not have been spying on me in the first place!” He shouted as she left his classroom, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, “Finally, you step foot in my classroom and actually learn a lesson!”

But she didn't even give him the benefit of turning back around.

Severus was frantic. Back to pacing around his room. Humiliated. Angry. But with Eleanor or himself? He immediately hated himself the moment he tried to obliviate her.

‘What a toxic reflex.’ he thought to himself.

He stormed to the other side of his classroom and rested his hands upon the desk, hanging his head forward as his hair fell over his face again. The self-hatred was raging through him, internally scolding himself for the way he had just acted and repeatedly asking himself why. Why couldn't he just be honest with her and admit that he did have insecurities and that he was afraid of losing her within his self-loathing?

‘Why do you always strive to fuck things up?!’ he spoke to himself, though he already knew the answer; he had spent so long convincing himself that he wasn't worthy of affection, the moment he was presented with it his first instinct was to push it away. It was a control thing; if he was in control of the affection drifting away, it hurt less than them leaving of their own accord.

Teaching his potions class for the rest of the afternoon would have usually taken his mind off his bad decisions, but the memory of Eleanor’s face when he raised his wand would not leave his head. Once his final class was dismissed, he had convinced himself that he had no choice but to go and speak to her — though he had already convinced himself that she wouldn't want to hear any of what he wanted to say.

‘Sorry I attempted to obliviate you, but you really should not have been snooping outside my door.’ he practiced inside his head as he marched down the corridor of the castle — though his confident walk was not reflective of how he was feeling about the situation.

His heart sank when he arrived at her chamber door and his fists clenched as he built up the courage to knock. He would make the excuse that he was rehearsing what to say, but the truth was he didn't even know where to start. Put his pride aside for the sake of a girl who saw him for who he was and still showed some sort of interest in him? Here goes nothing.

The first knock was weak — barely even a sound made as his knuckles brushed against the surface. His fist tightened and he knocked more firmly. He took one step back and held his hands behind his back, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure no one was around.

He felt nauseous as the door handle turned and wondered for a brief moment whether it would be better to just run. Before he even had chance to decide, however, the door was open, and there she was; staring at him half in shock, half dismissive.

“Good evening, Miss Eleanor,” He avoided eye contact, “I think we need to discuss your sneaking around.”

“Ah,” Eleanor raised her eyebrows, unfazed, “And there I was, thinking you were here to apologise.”

He swallowed hard and paused briefly, “Perhaps we can have this discussion inside…”

“So, not only do you turn up unannounced and play the victim, but now you're inviting yourself in?” Eleanor sighed quietly, “And who said romance was dead…”

“You never know who could be listening to your conversations,” Severus shrugged, following her into her chamber and muttering under his breath as he closed the door, “Or spying on them.”

“Oh, can you just drop it?!” Eleanor sighed, “You’re starting to sound like a spy yourself with a guilty conscience.” she rolled her eyes.

“I don't appreciate that tone.” Severus skipped over her comment.

“Well, after the way you spoke to me earlier, it's the only tone I've got.” she shrugged.

Severus’ lip twitched but he remained silent.

“You know, to say you turned up at my door saying that we needing to talk, you’re not doing a lot of it,” Eleanor broke the silence, “What do you want from me, Severus?”

“I…” was all he managed to say before his brain kicked into overdrive and what he really wanted to say.

“What, you now suddenly have nothing to say to your verbal punch bag?” Eleanor arched a brow.

Severus’ breath hitched. That hurt. Verbal punch bag? Is that really how she thought he viewed her? He stepped closer to her with all intentions of saying something, but once again remained silent as his black eyes gazed down at her.

“Congratulations, you've made yourself speechless,” Eleanor widened her eyes dramatically, “But if you have nothing else to say, I'm sure you don't want to waste your evening with a person who just ‘snoops’ on you for fun, so—”

Severus had hundreds of emotions coursing through him right now; guilt, anger, and confusion to name a few. He had a split decision to make; keep her intrigued in his next move or walk. When she tilted her head up to look at him, his split decision was made. He leaned down to kiss her, cutting her off from telling him to leave.

Eleanor stumbled backward a couple of steps with a scowl of confusion, half shocked, half angry.

“What was that?” She asked, blinking hard as she brought her hand to her lips; this was very out of character for him, he would hardly ever make the first move.

“I am sorry, I will, uh…” He shuffled awkwardly, cursing himself as he turned toward the door.

“Severus, tell me why you can give yourself to me like that but not verbally,” Eleanor attempted the pressing question one last time, “Usually you are against spontaneous physical affection, but when to comes to choosing between that and talking about what is bothering you…”

“You don't want to know…” he spoke quietly.

“No, you don't want to tell.” Eleanor stood with her hands on her hips.

To be called out like this lit the flame of anger in Severus’ stomach quicker than anything. It was his place to be the one with the sharp, cold tongue, not hers.

“Correct.” Severus glanced to her lips and then the floor.

“Then, you shall depart my chamber un-kissed.” Eleanor responded simply.

‘It’s only what I deserve’, Severus thought to himself and turned to the door again, though this time feeling as if his feet were glued to the floor.

“Severus,” Eleanor spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder and feeling him tense immediately; she was like a comforting hand and an icy razor blade all at once. “Please.”

“Please… what?” Severus spoke quietly, hanging his head forward and away from her.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you want to go because you don't feel something for me.” Eleanor replied, gently pressing her fingertips into his shoulder.

Severus’ lip twitched and he spun around in one motion, gazing down at her with glazed over eyes but remaining silent. The moment their eyes met, Eleanor reached up with one of her hands and touched the back of her fingers to his cheek, this time allowing the kiss more than she did a few moments ago. Severus inhaled shakily, almost as if he was about to burst into tears.

“Look me…” Eleanor kissed him again, cupping his cheeks in her hands, “In the eyes…” She guided him back into the centre of the room, “And tell m—”

“No.” Severus shivered against her lips, his hands finding her waist.

“No?” Eleanor’s hands slid to the nape of his neck.

“The way I feel about you is what has gotten me into this state in the first place.” Severus spoke faster than his brain could prevent him from admitting.

“We’re getting somewhere…” Eleanor whispered, soothingly scratching the nape of his neck.

“All my life…” Severus started to speak and then paused, fighting with the voice in his head telling him that he shouldn't allow himself to be so vulnerable.

“Look at me,” Eleanor said softly, gazing up at him as her thumbs lightly brushed back and forth over his cheeks, “Your words will never leave this room.”

He looked down into her eyes and felt a lump form in his throat. He had never seen an expression so genuine. He had to tell her now, his armour was already cracked.

“All my life, through one event or another, I have had this endless weight of being undeserving.” Severus spoke quietly.

“Undeserving?” Eleanor arched a brow, “Of?”

“Anything.” he sighed quietly, shrugging in defeat.

“Could you be a little more specific?” she asked, narrowing her eyebrows

“To receive…” he inhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Its okay, Severus,” she smiled kindly when his eyes opened again, “What do you think you are undeserving of?”

“You.” Severus’ gaze met hers again, chewing the inside of his lip.

“Enough of that mindset, Severus,” she shook her head, leaning up to peck his lips again, “Is that why you were—”

“I’m just so, so afraid of… putting a foot wrong…” he pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, “When I've already convinced myself that I am undeserving of you in the first place.”

“Please stop saying you are undeserving…” Eleanor frowned, now reaching for his hands, “I wouldn't be standing here right now if I didn't think you were worth my time. Especially after today’s events.”

Severus stayed silent, staring at his feet with an ashamed expression on his face.

“Self sabotage is not the right way to deal with receiving affection that you wrongly believe you do not deserve.” Eleanor squeezed booth of his hands.

“I’ve played my life like this for so long now, I don't know how to be anyone else.” Severus admitted, a tinge of regret in his tone.

Eleanor felt her own eyes start to tear up from his confession and her heart genuinely ached for him, silently wishing that he would just allow himself to be happy, but knowing that it just wasn't that easy.

“Come here,” She spoke softly, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing their lips together tenderly.

“I like that…” Severus whispered against her lips, barely even audible and his hands now upon her waist again as he kissed her back.

“It’s okay to like it, you know,” Eleanor’s lips lingered longer this time, “Allowing someone to show you how they like you.”

Severus brought her closer to him and kissed her slightly harder, his hands now on the small of her back. He felt her smile against his lips as their heads tilted and it wasn't long before her tongue was timidly requesting to push past his lips. Severus felt his heartbeat speed up slightly but parted his lips, the tips of their tongues immediately touching.

Sure, they had been intimate with one another before, but this felt different. All the other times he had held her at arms length; just sex with no questions asked. This time, however, with his feelings and honesty out in the open, it felt even more intimate.

Eleanor stumbled back slightly and pushed his cloak off his shoulders before grasping his shirt and unbuttoning the top two buttons. Severus was going with the flow, enjoying the feeling of being wanted like this was their first time. Once the buttons on his shirt were undone, he reached for the zip on her dress, trying his best to pull it down with his shaky hands

“I— I’d like to see you,” he broke the kiss momentarily, “please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Eleanor winked, placing her hand over his and helping him pull the zip down properly.

Severus’ lip quivered as Eleanor’s dress pooled to the floor, feeling his crotch becoming even more restricted when she stepped out of it. She glanced up at him with a smirk and reached forward, pulling him further toward her by the part of his shirt that had already been unbuttoned and continued to unbutton the rest of it as she backed him into her bedroom. Their lips crashed back together, teeth almost colliding from the urgency.

“Mm, what's this?” she whispered against his lips, her hand moving to cup the bulge in the front of his pants once his shirt had been tossed to the floor.

“The effect of you.” Severus breathed against her lips, pushing against the palm of her hand and making a soft grunt when he felt himself back up against her dresser.

“You flatter me.” Eleanor grinned, unzipping his trousers properly and massaging her hand against the protrusion in the front of his underwear.

“Mmmh…” he let out a heavy groan against her lips from the feeling.

Severus gently pulled at her bottom lip between his teeth and moaned softly as she applied a little more pressure with her hand, placing his own hands on the dresser behind him. Eleanor tapped the tip of her index finger against the head of his cock through the material of his underwear and giggled from his reaction before pulling his trousers and underwear down all in one go. Severus gasped through clenched teeth as his hardened cock sprung out and slapped against his lower stomach so aggressively that it caused a gas of wind. Severus’ hands soon lifted off the dresser and he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, dropping it to the floor before grasping the waistband of her underwear with his shaky hands.

“How can you claim to be so inexperienced when your hands always know exactly where to go…” Eleanor whispered between clumsy kisses as Severus physically ripped her underwear off and threw it to the side.

“Perhaps all my expertise just revolves around you…” Severus spoke in a slow, gruff tone.

Eleanor inhaled sharply from his response and placed one hand against his chest, pushing his bare bottom onto the dresser. Severus’ hands gripped her securely to bring him with her and kissed her harshly, narrowing his eyebrows with a grunt once her hand had found his cock again. Their tongues tangled back together and their eyes fell shut, both of Eleanor’s hands now skilfully stroking up and down his entire length. Severus shivered from the long awaited touch and parted his legs a little further, cupping her face in his hands and running his fingers through her hair.

“Fuck…” he spoke breathily against her lips, “I need you… need you…”

“What, now?” her thumb circled around the tip of his cock, smirking against his lips.

“Now…” Severus broke the kiss in order to catch his breath.

Eleanor kissed him harshly once more before pulling away completely and taking a step back, her eyes taking a walk up and down his body several times and vice versa. After a few moments, she bit her lip seductively and turned around.

“Wh-what are you…” Severus narrowed his eyebrows when her back was to him, widening his eyes when she reached behind and placed her hands on his thighs, pulling him forward so that instead of his legs being dangled over the dresser, the tips of his toes were now on the floor, “d-doing…”

Eleanor raised herself up onto her tiptoes, too, and pushed her bottom backward, Severus’ engorged cock now resting between her legs, “Is this how it feels to have a huge cock?”

Severus opened his mouth to try and respond, his face flushing deep red, but remained silent. She placed her hands upon his thighs and lightly glided herself back and forth over his length, biting her lip and letting out a high pitched sigh each time the head of his cock brushed right there.

“Mm-mm, Eleanor…” Severus’ eyes rolled back in pleasure from the gentle brushing motions, feeling himself throbbing with want as she sickened his length with her own arousal, “Please…”

“You mean…” she raised herself a little higher and teased the head of his cock around her entrance, biting her lip as she gazed over her shoulder. She watched with wide, lustful eyes as his expression changed, eyes still closed with his mouth wide open and eyebrows knitted together.

“Ugh, yes…” he nodded shakily, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as she sat over him completely, “Fuck, yes…”

“Mm, Severus, your cock…” her words trailed off as she adjusted to the size of him.

Severus leaned back on his hands and parted his lips, feeling himself going light headed already as she began to move over him. He let out jittery moans and allowed his eyes to fall shut again, trying to keep himself upright as her movements sped up.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he whimpered, raising one of his hands and bringing it in front of Eleanor, starting to massage his fingertips between her legs each time she bounced over him, his other hand kneading one of her breasts.

“Mmmhh… so is that…” Eleanor tilted her head back, her hair tickling his chest briefly before Severus lifted his head again to press his lips to her temple.

Eleanor bit her lip and moaned out his name several times, earning multiple throbs from his cock in response to how much more it turned him on. After a few long moments, she turned her head to press their lips together, both of them reuniting in a desperately urgent kiss.

The room soon became full with the sound of their bodies repeatedly slotting together and grunting and groaning into each other’s mouthes over the noise of her dresser slamming against the stone wall. Severus felt his eyes rolling back in pleasure and their kisses becoming even more sloppy as a result; though still not allowing his fingers to stop moving against her as she bounced over his length.

Severus’ shoulder blades could've cracked the glass in the mirror on her dresser from the intensity of their motions and he felt his body becoming sticky with sweat, not even caring that his hand was hurting from his consistent motions or that his calves were burning from the way he was trying to hold himself up. He knew his self-control wasn't the best in regards to trying to hold off his climax for as long as he hoped, but something about this position mixed with the knowing that he was also making her feel good was taking him to another level. He could hear the blood pulsating in his ears, let alone his cock. If it wasn't for his pride, he would just lean back and let himself come apart right there and then.

“Mm, carry on like that and you're gonna make me…” his sentence ended with a moan rather than words, feeling the fire in his stomach flickering like crazy.

“Make you?” Eleanor smirked, kissing him harshly once more and grinding over him in harder movements.

“Cum, fuck!” He gasped, his thighs tensing as his cock throbbed madly from her sudden changed in speed.

“Mm-mm,” she shook her head and broke away from the kiss completely. As much as she could have happily stayed enjoying his surprisingly expert fingers, she also reached down and pulled his hand away before hopping off him all together, “No.”

“N…No?!” Severus’ eyes opened immediately, his face completely flushed as he remained slouched against the dresser with an aching, slippery cock pointing toward his navel, “What do you mean ’no’?! What did I do?!” he asked frantically and out of breath — it was taking everything in him not to reach down to finish himself off with his own hand, not even caring if the sticky result ended all over her floor or himself.

”I want you to take a long, hard,” her eyes flickered to his angrily pulsating cock, “think about how you spoke to me earlier.” she sat down on the bed and leaned back on her hands, trailing her eyes up and down his body.

“Oh, what?” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, groaning slightly.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Severus Snape,” Eleanor shot him a stern look, trying to mask the devil underneath, “You know what you did, what you said… and now you just expect me to forgive you and let you cum? I don't think so.”

Severus dropped to his knees in front of the dresser and winced, half in pain from his knees hitting the floor and half in pain from his throbbing, uncared for arousal, “What… do I have to do?” he asked in a desperate whimper.

“An apology would be nice…” Eleanor shrugged casually, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs.

“I’m sorry!” he responded immediately, his eyes falling down to her bare legs.

“How sorry?” Eleanor smirked, enjoying now having the upper hand.

“So sorry…” Severus pleaded, literally crawling on his hands and knees, sweaty black hair hanging over his face, cock bouncing against his stomach, “So, so sorry.”

“Mm… and?” Eleanor uncrossed her legs and licked her bottom lip, parting them.

“It won't happen again.” Severus’ voice jittered, raising himself up on his knees and losing his breath from the sight of her nude body this close; much to his request the majority of their intimate moments had previously been spent in the dark because he was so ashamed and self conscious about his body.

He leaned forward and placed a hand on either of her knees, leaning in and brushing his lips against her parted thighs. Eleanor let out a soft moan and tilted her head back, lacing her fingers in his hair and tugging at it lightly each time his lips moved higher. Severus felt his cock aching for some attention and reached down with one of his hands, loosely jerking it up and down. He thought he was being subtle, but the muffled moan he let out against her inner thigh blew his cover.

“Mm, what are you doing down there?” Eleanor asked lazily, enjoying the feeling of his lips against her bare skin, “That’s nice, Professor…”

“I…” he felt his cheeks burning up again, pausing against her skin momentarily to speak, “I need something, too…” he admitted, feeling his length twitch in his grip.

“You better not be touching yourself, Severus.” Eleanor spoke with her head still tilted back.

“N…no…” Severus’ voice came out more strangled and less convincing.

“Come up here,” she finally raised her head, dropping her arms by her sides and having to tear her eyes away from his moving hand, “Don’t lie to me, Severus,” she arched a brow as their eyes met, “I know what you sound like.”

“Wh—what I sound like?” Severus questioned, gazing up at her.

“When you're about to lose it,” she leaned down to peck his lips, “and bust.”

“But I need to…” Severus groaned, raising himself up properly and kissing her back.

“No, you need to learn that your actions,” she said, guiding him onto the bed and onto his back with a hand pushing his chest, “have consequences.”

“My what,” he blinked hard, watching in awe as she climbed on top of him, “have what?”

“You heard me.” she smirked, teasing a fingertip all the way up the underside of his cock and lingering with a little more pressure underneath the head.

“Oh, for fuck…” he began to complain before the index finger on her other hand pressed against his lips.

“No complaining,” she shook her head, taunting the tip of his cock with her finger now by stretching out a string of precum, “just compliance.”

Severus shivered, his cock almost having a mind of its own at this point as it jolted against her finger.

“Understood?” she tilted her head, bringing her finger away from his lips.

“Understood.” he nodded quickly, staring up at her with wide, wanting eyes.

“Good,” she smiled sweetly and lifted his cock up completely, “then you won't mind if I do this.”

Severus’ eyes rolled back in pleasure as she sat over him again, placing her hands against his chest. Eleanor watched him for a few moments as she started to move, but then her own eyes soon closed from the sought after feeling. She pressed down on his chest a little harder as her movements sped up, narrowing her eyebrows and moaning in sync with him.

“Fucking Christ, that feels good…” Severus’ mouth hung open, pushing his hips up slightly in an attempt to feel even more.

“Mm, stop pushing,” Eleanor prodded his chest gently, “I tell you when you can let go.”

Severus whined, though he was in far too much pleasure to complain about it. He had gone from always having to be in control, to being controlled — and loving absolutely every second of it.

Eleanor leaned down and pressed their lips together, still circling her hips over him.

“Am I allowed to touch?” Severus asked against her lips, his hands itching to move from his sides.

Eleanor kissed him deeply for a few more moments before speaking softly, “You may.”

Severus’ fingertips immediately traced down her back and then gripped onto her bottom, moaning out her name several times as the kiss grew more and more passionate.

“I…. I can't…” Severus panted against her lips, his hands trembling against her bottom.

“Mm, you can, Severus,” Eleanor breathed out seductively, finding it hard to hold back her own moans at this point, “Remember that self control, hm?”

“No,” Severus responded quickly, feeling his black, greasy hair now sticking to his forehead as the flames of bliss climbed his body faster than his brain could compute, “No!” his eyebrows narrowed, having to pause the kiss momentarily as he let out a loud moan, “Oh, fuck, please let me…!”

“Mmmmh, Professor Snape begging to cum?” Eleanor nearly lost it herself from just the thought, “I never thought I'd see the day…” she pressed a harsh kiss to his lips before whispering, “or night.”

Severus’ eyes automatically opened when he felt her body raise up off his chest and he watched her breasts bouncing, tempted and longing to reach up and touch them but knowing that he didn't have the strength to do anything right now — it was like she was controlling every inch of him. Eleanor’s nails scratched down his chest, her head tilting back in pleasure and eventually raising her arms behind her with her eyes tightly shut. Severus’ back arched slightly, unsure how long he could hold back before groaning loudly as Eleanor purposely slowed down her hips, smirking widely to herself as she felt his body react beneath her immediately.

“No, stop!” he pleaded, red in the face.

“What, you want me to stop completely?” Eleanor asked, playing dumb.

“No!” he groaned in frustration, “stop… stopping!”

“Oh, you want me to… move?” she asked, gazing down at him as she began to circle her hips again.

“Yes…” he growled from the back of his throat, feeling his body relax again as she began to bounce over him properly, “Yes, like that!”

Eleanor’s head hung back in pleasure and Severus just about managed to rest his hands upon her thighs, rubbing them up and down shakily as his own started to tense. His eyes squeezed shut and rolled back, feeling the point of no return growing even closer.

“Fuck, Severus…” Eleanor gasped, her hands now flat against his chest again as she felt herself tensing around his continuously pulsing cock, “C—Cum for me, Severus, because I’m…”

“Agh! Fuck! Eleanor!” Severus bellowed in three separate exclamations, his back arching fully as his taunted climax shot out of him in hot, stringy spurts.

“Mmh!” Eleanor continued to bounce over him, riding out her own orgasm as their moans filled the room.

The two of them writhed together, panting heavily and making the bed almost have a life of its own beneath them. Eleanor’s hands reached down to briefly brush against Severus’ still against her thighs and they both gradually opened their eyes, sighing softly.

“Mmm… thank you….” were the only words Severus could muster at that moment.

“What for?” Eleanor tilted her head to the side, enjoying seeing him in this afterglow state.

“Letting me…” he grunted, trying to gesture with his hands instead of saying the words.

“Letting you…?” Eleanor bit her lip to hide a grin.

“You know.” Severus’ lip twitched, finding it hard, perhaps even embarrassing, to say the words.

“Cum?” she arched a brow, enjoying this a little too much.

“M…hm.” Severus nodded once, not even being able to look at her.

“What, once you've had your way all the dirty talk goes out of the window?” she teased, rolling off him and trying to brush her hair back into place with her hands.

“Don’t…” he shot her an unamused look, feeling the sweat glistening on the front of his body.

“Well, if you've really gone back to being so prude already, then I guess you won't mind if I go and shower…” she shrugged casually getting off the bed.

Severus glanced over, out of breath and still feeling too physically weak to do anything else, watching as she stepped toward her bathroom and her voice then being the only thing left in the room as she said, “Unless you would care to join? You know, save on the water and all that.”

-

Thank you so much for reading this first instalment of 'Severus Snape and the Human Condition'! I am aware I haven't written Snape properly since last Christmas, so I hope it was worth the wait 🤣 I'm so looking forward to this little ongoing project and exploring different sides to our beloved Professor 🫶 please let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas please feel free to comment or submit them! ♥️

MASSIVE shoutout and thank you to @fafodill for giving me the boost in confidence I needed whenever I didn’t think I was getting anywhere with this story — your help has not gone unnoticed! 🫶

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@benedict-cbe @bratty-tingz @speedycupcakepaper @hamiltonstann (continued in comments 🥰)

[astnmartn]

it’s you she’s thinking of (2/?)

pairing: severus snape x fem!reader

summary: reader is friends with the marauders, but after standing up for severus snape, james and sirius ignore them. reader struggles faintly with guilt but knows they did the right thing and try’s to make amends with severus.

notes: 1.5k words! I’m sorry this took so long. I’m an insane procrastinator so I sincerely apologize! (also the formatting is so wonky tumblr is being stupid.) Severus is so cute I can’t!!! he’s so ooc it’s amazing. I’m inlove. :P let me know what you think and enjoy!

Today is the day you told yourself. Today is the day you confront James and Sirius and solve what’s going on between the three of you and be friends again. Like it used to be. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling would not get you anywhere, so you got up and changed into your robes.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning; you thought as you looked out the window next to your bed. You hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. It is still early in the morning, so you don't expect anyone to be up yet; you hear voices in the common room. Stepping outside the girl’s room, you step back in immediately. You spot James and Sirius making conversation on one of the many couches. The floor creaks underneath you, and they turn toward the sound, going quiet.

“Hey, you two.” You speak, giving them a small wave. “Hey y/n. Just the person we wanted to see.” Sirius smiles. James sighs beside him. “Come. Sit. James has something he needs to tell you.” James shakes his head as Sirius beckons you over to the couch next to them. You walk over to the armchair and sit with your palms sweating. “Okay. What is it?” “C'mon, James, tell her.” Sirius pleads. James shakes his head, slumping further into the couch. Sirius scratches the back of his neck, something you came to learn he does when he's uncomfortable.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready to talk to me, James. I just want to say this. I don’t regret what I did. Not one bit. If doing the right thing by helping Severus from being tormented by you ruins our friendship, then so be it.” You let out. A part of you hurts having said those words. After all, they had been your best friends since the second year.

James and Sirius say nothing. James is avoiding eye contact, and Sirius looks as if he has something to say. “I’m going to go now. Bye.” You look back once and Sirius stands up, but James pushes him back down. “Don’t.” James stands up. “Filthy half bloods have to stick together, after all, don't they?” James snickers.

Reaching for the door handle, you stop. You felt your stomach drop and your eyes prickle with tears. “Y/n…” Sirius breathes. You open the door and take off. You don’t witness Sirius stand and push James onto the couch, scolding him.

The same James who swore he didn’t care about blood status. Who swore he wasn’t like all the other pure bloods in the school, and the same James who in 2nd year picked you up when you fell in mud in front of the entire school. James and his friends, who helped you get cleaned up and defended you from the students teasing you.

You were inseparable, and now it didn’t seem like you could ever be again.

_

You run as fast as you can down the moving staircases, hoping no one will see you with tears rolling down your face.

You push past the mob of students trying to enter the great hall, in order to leave the castle. At the same time looking down at your feet trying to avoid the stares of those passing by, you don’t see Remus and Peter in front of you. You bump into both of them.

“Hey, hey, where are you off to?” Remus asks you, looking worried. When you don’t answer, he lifts your face to look at him. You don’t protest. “Are you okay? What happened? Was it James?” He questions you frantically. Peter looks at you apologetically.

“I’m fine.” You say, wiping your face of tears more threatening to spill. You try to smile to show them you're okay, but you fail. “I’m just going to go, okay? I’ll see you two later.” You walk further from them and Remus is about to go after you, but Peter holds him back.

“She needs to be alone. She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Just relax.” Peter looks at Remus. He looks like he could bite. Remus nods.

_

You leave through the back doors and go downhill towards the ground keeper's hut. All sense of direction has left your mind, only being able to think about how badly James had hurt you. That being said, you walked so far you hadn’t noticed you’d stumbled into the forbidden forest. Only realizing when you heard someone calling your name.

You wiped your tears to clear your blurry vision. Looking around, you can only make out a tall figure dressed in black. You sniffle as they call out your name again. “Y/n? What are you doing out here?” You recognize that voice.

“Oh Severus. I didn't know you were down here. I'm sorry, I'm going to go.” You whisper and turn to leave.

“No, stay.” He responds. He comes up to you and study’s your expression. “You’ve been crying. Why?” He demanded softly. You’re quite surprised by his demeanor. “It’s nothing, really.” You said sniffling. “It's not nothing if you've come down here crying.” he adds a supportive hand to your shoulder. He looks at you with kind eyes, a rare sight. He's willing to listen.

He nods his head toward a black blanket laying on the ground. “Come, sit.” He invites you. You nod and follow behind him, watching the wind run through his long black hair, a mesmerizing sight. The blanket lays below a large tree, with the leaves changing colors. Severus sits first, next to a small pile of books and a few pieces of buttered bread from breakfast.

You sit next to him, although you can feel sticks and rocks under you, it is quite comfortable “Is where you hang out?” You ask, turning to face him. He’s already looking at you. “Yes, it is. It’s especially beautiful at this hour.” He says. You look around and it’s true. The fresh smell of the outdoors, specifically after rainfall, the light sun peeking through the trees, and the trees getting absorbed by the fog, do look especially beautiful today.

You silently agree with him as he continues to look at you. You avoid his eyes, pretending his piercing gaze isn’t making you flush. “So, now, do you want to tell me what made you come down here in the first place?” You look down, biting your lip nervously, the memory of James making you feel uneasy. “It’s just James. He said something awful about you and me. Something I would have never expected him to say.” Oh. Severus furrows his brows in confusion. He knows James would of course be cruel to him, but to you?

“I'm sorry about that.” He says softly. “What did he say? If you don’t mind, of course.” You look at him with a pained expression, he almost regrets asking. You go on, “He said, filthy half bloods should stick together. He didn’t even look like he regretted saying it.” your lip trembles. You wipe the tears before they fall. “The worst part is that I’ll probably forgive him.” You say, hiding your face behind your shaky hands.

“But you shouldn’t.” Severus removes your hands from your face, looking you in the eyes. “He doesn’t deserve you or your forgiveness.”

You’re not sure what led you to hug him, but you don’t regret it. You pull him into your arms and hold him tightly. He jumps slightly, surprised, but he settles. You can tell he isn’t used to it. He melts into your touch, tentatively hugging you back.

_

After your eventful morning and a semi delightful breakfast period with Severus, you finished your classes along with the rest of the day, and it was time for dinner. Remus and Peter had already gone down to secure a suitable spot on the table (Remus' idea, of course) in order for you to not have to sit close to James or Sirius.

You still hadn’t told him the reason you were so upset, but he knew the look of guilt on James’ face wasn’t just a coincidence. Still, Remus did not confront him, as it wasn’t his place and he knew better than to get involved when it was clearly personal.

As you enter the great hall, your eyes dart toward the Slytherin table. Severus' eyes are already on you. You shoot him a quick smile, one which he returns. You head to your table and sit across from Peter and Remus with a happy sigh. Looking at Remus and Peter in front of you, they give you odd looks. Remus eyebrow is raised and Peter looks a bit taken aback.

“What was that?” Remus starts, “What was what?” You said, trying to stop a smile from creeping onto your face. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, we both saw it! Didn’t we Peter?” Remus has a smile that reaches his eyes and is trying to hold in a sweet laugh. Peter nods in agreement.

“It’s nothing.” You say finally, smiling sheepishly.

_

taglist: @blueberrysquire , @sadeyes61 , @bookworm8161 , @tellybearryyyy

[seriousbrat]

how can lily be a good person if she married a bully?

I'm going to break this down because it does legitimately seem to be an issue for so many people. I received quite a few asks about this a few days ago so I'm just going to address it generally here. Apologies for the length of this, I tried to cover everything I could think of. Let's get two things out of the way first:

Firstly, if you truly believe James was an abuser, and you're seriously asking how a woman could ever marry an abusive man, this is indicative of a fundamental lack of understanding about how abuse works. This is victim-blaming rhetoric. Abusers are predatory, manipulative, and often extremely charming, and they have a specific methodology for ensnaring their victims. I highly recommend Lundy Bancroft's book Why Does He Do That for further reading on how abuse works. The reality is that women marry abusive men all the time, and it doesn't make them bad people. If you believe otherwise we simply have nothing to talk about here.

Second, the question of whether or not James ACTUALLY changed his behaviour is irrelevant here, so I'm not going to directly address it either way. The main thing is that Lily BELIEVED that he had changed, whether or not he actually did, and we know this from Harry's conversation with Remus and Sirius. We also know she wasn't aware of the full extent of the bullying, as she didn't know the details about the prank.

For the purposes of this I'm going to adopt the perspective that James never changed, had 0 character development, and was secretly a terrible person the whole time. To be clear this isn't what I believe-- but I think it's helpful to start from a similar place.

Onto the main points:

An overly forgiving nature can be a flaw, but it doesn't make someone a bad person.

Nor does it make them selfish. Even if I concede that James was irredeemably evil as a person, the fact that Lily believed him to be better than he was, even if she was wrong, makes her at worst naive, not selfish. In fact, I'd argue that it's a sign of empathising with someone too much, which is sort of the opposite of selfishness. We know that Lily had an overly-forgiving nature, because she demonstrates that with Severus when she's willing to overlook his associations with the worst people of all time. And as we know from the fact that her friends were openly critical of it, and that she suffered as a result of it, her friendship with Sev was hardly 'convenient' for her. That she forgave him and overlooked his behaviour, and defended him, despite the fact that it was actively inconvenient for her, indicates empathy (and probably too much of it) not selfishness. Being overly forgiving is an established character trait of Lily's, as she tells us she "made excuses for [Sev] for years." Making excuses for someone you love is a flaw, but not one necessarily rooted in selfishness. Again, it was actively inconvenient for Lily to make excuses for Sev. It's also a very human flaw, not one that makes her a bad person-- especially when you consider that Lily's capacity for forgiveness had its limits, as she demonstrated with Snape.

To forgive is an act of compassion... it's not done because people deserve it, it's done because they need it.

anyway with that buffy quote out of the way, lets move on

Lily owes Snape nothing.

I'm sure people will disagree, but, objectively, she just doesn't. They are not friends at this point. He has demonstrated consistently that he doesn't have enough consideration for her to stop rubbing shoulders with people who literally want to murder her, including a boy who attacked her housemate. So why is Lily expected to take into account his feelings and his history with James? Which leads right into:

It's a massive double-standard for Lily to be blamed for marrying James when Snape isn't afforded the same for associating with Death Eaters.

I mean, think what you want, but to me being a mass murderer intent on exterminating an entire subset of the population (talking about Voldemort and other DEs here, not Snape) is like, maybe, a tiny bit worse than being a bully in school. But what do I know. Snape willingly joined up with such people, knowing perfectly well what they wanted to do to Lily, the woman he loved, and everyone like her. If Lily's choice in husband makes her a selfish person, then by your own logic Snape is completely irredeemable and you should probably delete your blog about how misunderstood and babygirl he is.

Sometimes people marry or befriend terrible people.

Similar to the first point, lack of judgement is a flaw but not one that directly indicates selfishness. Again, remember, Lily believed James to have changed. She believed, whether or not she was wrong, that redemption is possible. It's extremely common for women to date and marry terrible men, unfortunately, and to be blinded to their flaws. There are many possible reasons for this. I guess you can argue that the desire to be loved is inherently selfish, but that still wouldn't make Lily notably selfish at all, rather just a normal human. Plenty of people have had the experience of dating someone who is terrible or being friends with someone who is terrible at some point in their lives, and it doesn't automatically make them terrible themselves. People make mistakes and have poor judgment occasionally. Her actions in SWM suggest she would not have tolerated nor validated any cruelty from James towards others, had she been aware of it. Anyway, once again if you're holding Lily responsible for James's actions you need to also hold Snape responsible for the actions of his buddies. If it's selfish for Lily to associate with a bully (who she believed to have reformed) it's straight up devoid of any humanity whatsoever for Snape to KNOWINGLY associate with people like Mulciber, Voldemort, and Bellatrix. I don't actually believe this btw, I'm just following the logic through.

Furthermore, it's completely unfair to blame Lily for, in particular, the past actions of her husband.

As we clearly see in SWM, she did NOT tolerate his behaviour during the years before they started dating. James's behaviour is simply not Lily's responsibility, and neither is Snape's. It's not her job to fix them nor pay for their mistakes, nor should she have to investigate and tally up all their past wrongdoings when making her own choices. If James was actively being a menace and Lily was just watching going 'teehee' I'd understand this more, but again, she was NOT aware. Based on her behaviour in SWM, this would be out of character for Lily.

Someone having a moral stance you personally disagree with doesn't automatically make them a bad person.

If your moral stance is that James's past actions are completely unforgivable, and you could not personally date someone who did what he did, no matter how he evolved as a person, that's perfectly fine. As I've established, Lily was not aware of any continuing wrongdoing, nor would she have validated or supported it had she been aware. Lily's belief was that the person she was currently dating was a good person. She believed in redemption and second chances. If you personally do not believe in redemption or second chances, I'd question why you even like Snape, but ultimately that's your prerogative. However, believing otherwise doesn't make Lily a bad person nor selfish, even if you personally disagree or think she was wrong. People are allowed to be mistaken.

Snape was probably less relevant to their lives than you think.

Like to be quite honest, they were fighting a war and priorities had shifted, as they often do in adulthood. Lily ended her friendship with Sev, and after Hogwarts James and Lily almost certainly had no association with him whatsoever. Is Lily expected to continually self-flagellate over Snape for the rest of her life? Is she expected to take him into account in every decision she makes, forever? Believe it or not James and Lily existed separately to Snape, rather than as extensions of his character. They moved on. Snape didn't, that's what makes him beautiful-- and yes there's a reason why Snape couldn't move on, but, again, that is not Lily's responsibility. It seems reasonable to me that, particularly given the extreme nature of her circumstances, Lily would take into account first and foremost the actions she observed from James in the present, rather than what he did in the past. See above re: Lily owes Snape nothing.

Being selfless, kind, or a good person doesn't make one perfect.

When I say Lily was selfless, I do NOT mean that she was flawless. If this is your takeaway I worry for you. Also, enough about the Virgin Mary lol. Anyway, humans are complex, and selfless people are capable of selfishness on occasion. Everyone is. A certain amount of selfishness is not only normal, it can be a good thing and necessary for protecting yourself. When Lily ended her friendship with Sev, it was something she was doing for herself, so in the most technical sense (and it's still a huge stretch) it can be viewed as selfish. Nobody is or should be 100% selfless all the time. So even were I to concede that she was selfish in marrying James (which I don't) it doesn't preclude her being a selfless person in general.

Being selfless, kind, or a good person doesn't make a female character 'unrealistic.'

What even is this argument, honestly. Like do you just not believe in the existence of good women irl? Suspicious. I would gently suggest that if you find it unrealistic (or boring) for a woman to be a good person, that's maybe something you should take a closer look at. If your automatic assumption about a woman is that she must have married a man for his money, I would also interrogate that belief.

idk she was a teenage girl, pls develop some empathy

once you come down from your podium in the unholy tribunal, it might be worth considering female characters (and women in general) as human, and not just avatars who simply react to the emotional turmoil of men. At absolute worst you could assume that she was tricked by James (which I still disagree with, but it's a slightly more generous reading) or was blind and naive. All of which are more understandable than, for some reason, assuming she was a conniving bitch who wanted to hurt Snape and selfishly marry into wealth. Ultimately her decision to marry James probably had nothing to do with Snape at all. She was 21 when she died. Bad judgment is common at that age, and it's not necessarily a product of selfishness at all. Look, I'd understand this whole thing more if everyone was in their 30s. But is it not the teenage girl experience of all time to date an asshole? Do you have no empathy for that situation? Like I said, I'm arguing this based on the idea that James was completely irredeemable; would an abuser not abuse his girlfriend too? Would someone who is evil and cruel in all respects not also display cruelty to his wife? Can you not summon up an ounce of empathy for a 17 year old who might have thought, as many young girls do, 'I can fix him?'

To conclude, I think that the idea that Lily marrying a bully makes her a bad person is just rooted in lack of empathy for her as a character. Despite spending hours dissecting every last thought process a man might have had, there's no attempt at all to try and understand Lily's motives, rather they're considered exclusively from the perspective of Snape's emotions. This is unfair.

I don't doubt that it hurt Snape's feelings for Lily to date and marry James. But Snape's feelings are no longer her concern. She owes him nothing. Sev called his best friend a slur publicly and joined an organisation that wanted to murder her, with no respect for her feelings at all. They are no longer friends, and he has no right whatsoever to expect her to consider his own emotional needs anymore, and her choices no longer have anything to do with him. Nor should they have.

Whether or not you think it was a mistake for Lily to marry James, that's Lily's problem. Not Snape's. If you truly believe James was a monster, logically it's Lily you should be feeling sorry for. The fact that there's no empathy for her to be found, and that people revert so quickly to the Top 100 Misogyny Classic of 'she must be a gold digger' speaks for itself.

[moonsprcngs]

remus lupin knows when to keep his mouth shut, and as do you. until it comes to each other.

warnings: swearing, violence, bullying directed at both remus and reader & slut shaming directed at the reader, snape suspects rem's problem.

inbox

remus lupin x fem!reader <3 & sirius black x sister!reader, platonic james potter x reader

remus lupin knew when to keep his mouth shut. he knew when not to react and how to stay under the radar, but that didn't stop you from not keeping your mouth shut for him.

you knew it was going to be a rough day when your defence against the dark arts professor unexpectedly changed the lesson plan from banshees to lycanthropes.

remus, if he had known prior, would've faked an illness and skipped out, too uncomfortable with the wandering eyes and the permanent fear that someone would find him out.

instead, he sat beside you at your shared desk, having been there for too long now to get up and leave and ultimately cause a scene. more eyes on him was the last thing he needed.

you had kept his hand in yours, feeling it squeeze and tense and shake throughout the entirety of the class, and you were sure all the skin of his bottom lip was bitten clean off from his nerves.

everything was okay for the majority of it. the professor was surprisingly respectful in his delivery and you, james and sirius spent the whole time calling out immediate answers to his questions. the three of you, for obvious reasons, knew everything like the backs of your hands and tried your hardest to avoid any snarky comments from other students for the sake of poor moony, who remained dead silent.

everything was okay until the group of slytherins opened their mouths.

you'd left the classroom with the three boys, grip still tight on remus' hand as he let out a relieved breath, glad to be out of there. you didn't, however, make it that far down the corridor before you heard snape's voice.

"those freaks need to be studied in mental hospitals. that professor had no idea what he was talking about, still calling them humans. they're monsters, that's what they are-"

remus tensed beside you at his words and sighed as he felt the inevitable coming on. the four of you stopped in your tracks, and in no less than a few seconds you'd whipped around and had your wand pointed directly at snape.

"i think it's you that has no idea what you're talking about, right severus?" you challenged.

james stood protectively beside you, ready to jump in if you needed him and sirius stood just behind, arms folded and a proud smirk on his face.

"i think the lady asked you a question, snivellus," james piped up, sporting a similar smirk to your brother as he raised his hands in mock defence. "i'd answer her if i were you."

malfoy snickered behind snape, not knowing the true intent behind his words as the latter stared back at you, head tilted with a gross sort of grin as he looked between you and remus. "did my words hit a little close to home, black?"

remus just sighed again, head bowed in slight humiliation as the rest of you tensed up.

"fuck you, snape, i swear to merlin-" you seethed, grip on your wand incredibly tight as you started towards him before you felt a gentle hand on your forearm pulling you back.

"it's not worth it," remus spoke softly into your ear, his voice conveying more hurt than he would've liked.

you didn't lower your wand, still breathing heavily as you remained in place. snape was still grinning at you and it took everything in you not to hex him into oblivion.

james moved to stand in front of you to get your attention and also put some distance between you and snape. "we'll get him later, yeah? i swear."

"trust us, we have a plan," sirius clamped a hand down on your shoulder, his signature smirk returning as the three of them pulled you away.

true to their word, the marauders had pulled of a series of pranks on snape that left him too terrified and humiliated to even leave his dorm, the last two turning his hair semi-permanently pink and breaking him out head to toe in bubbling warts.

remus had seemingly gotten over what was said by the end of week (after two or three vulnerable moments in the safety of your arms), and snape hadn't left the slytherin common room in days.

it was the following saturday afternoon, and the five of you were scattered about by the fountain in the courtyard. you, remus and peter were studying for the upcoming charms exam whilst james and sirius... pretended to.

remus was just about to test you on your recently read chapter when a shout from across the courtyard rudely interrupted.

"oi, gryffindors!"

"here we go," james spoke proudly, smirking to himself as he pushed himself up off the ground. "and what is it you want on this fine afternoon, mulciber?"

the slytherin boy in question stalked over to your group, malfoy and avery in tow. "did a fine number on our snape there, didn't you?" he spat in james' face, sizing him up.

the rest of you stood up at that, sirius particularly fast as he threw an arm around james and flashed mulciber an innocent grin before scrunching up his face in disgust. "oh mate, you might wanna get your mouth cleaned out before getting too close to my james here."

you snorted out a laugh at your brother and mulciber sneered, shoving him away by the shoulders. "you keep quiet, black. you think you have any right talking to me?"

"snape got what he deserved," you spoke up, narrowing your eyes at the group of boys as you got between him and sirius. "you should teach your friend to keep his big nose out of where it doesn't belong."

avery barked out a laugh, your attention turning to him as he joined mulciber's side. "you're funny, little black. all bark and no bite, aren't you?"

peter stood back, eyes wide in fear. remus, remaining his usually calm self, tensed up and took a step closer to you when avery jabbed his finger into your chest, only for it to be slapped away by sirius with an angry "don't fucking touch her".

"alright, avery. that's enough," remus spoke up, his voice firm as he rested his hand on your lower back.

avery did nothing but laugh again, not taking his eyes off of you. "you're nothing but the gryffindors' little slut, aren't you?"

sirius suddenly shoved him back with an angry force just as remus stepped in front of you, his voice scarily calm as he spoke. "the fuck did you just say?"

"you heard me," avery shrugged, clearly unfazed by sirius' actions as his smirk grew even more. "i bet she gets passed around you all like the little whore she is. is she good?"

you stumbled back into peter in shock, his words ringing through your ears as the blonde boy wrapped an arm around you protectively.

"if you know what's good for you, avery, you'll shut your fucking mouth," remus seethed, his eyes never leaving avery's face as he slowly moved closer towards him.

the boy didn't answer him and instead turned his attention back to sirius as he lowered his voice, sneering at him evilly. "i bet you join in on the action too, don't you? some sick fantasy you blood traitors like to indulge in, huh? regulus is the only worthy one out of you three, you ever invite him to join?"

sirius exploded in a fit of rage and james grabbed him as he lunged towards the slytherin, holding him back before he'd kill the guy. "who the fuck do you think you are, avery?! i swear, you're so fucking dead!"

"you'll be done with her soon enough," malfoy joined, shrugging his shoulders casually as he sneered at remus, stalking towards him. "maybe then you'll let us have a go, yeah? she was meant to be one of us, after all. she may be a blood traitor but she's hot as-"

a sickening crunch interrupted him as remus sent his fist reeling directly at his nose, nothing but pure rage seeping through his veins as he sent punch after punch to avery's face.

"remus!"

james and sirius watched in shock for a moment (both quite frankly more than happy to let remus beat him to a pulp, and in fact cheered him on for the first two or three hits) before your pleading voice snapped them out of it. they each grabbed one of remus' arms and narrowly avoided getting an elbow to the face as they dragged him off of the half-unconscious boy.

"you even look at her again and i swear to godric you'll be spending the rest of your lives in the hospital wing."

the two other boys scrambled to grab avery and ran off towards the castle, terrified of remus' sudden outburst.

"alright, show's over you fuckers!" sirius called out to the relatively big crowd that had formed around you all, who reluctantly dispersed out in different directions. "give us some bloody space!"

"well that felt good," remus chuckled quietly as he shook his hand a few times.

you just stared at him with wide eyes and your mouth dropped open slightly. "you.. you just-"

"fuckin' hell, moony that was bloody brilliant!" james broke out into a cheer, him and sirius praising him and re-enacting just how brilliant it was as remus laughed quietly again before turning to you.

he gently took you from peter's grip and raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you, going back to his usual gentleness as he scanned your features worriedly. "are you alright, darling?"

you didn't quite know what to say, looking up at him slightly starstruck as you just nodded your head and stumbled over your words. "yeah, i- yeah."

he gave you a gentle smile and cupped your face with his non-bloody hand before leaning down for a kiss, conveying all his usual love and softness into it as if he didn't just completely wreck avery's face.

the sounds of gagging filled your ears and you broke away from remus with a soft laugh at james and sirius' antics.

"don't forget that's my sister, moony! merlin, what that fucker said about us is going to haunt me forever."

[deatheaterv]

lol imagine reader x Snape (reader doesn’t work at Hogwarts) who never calls him by his name, always some nickname or term of endearment and one day they see some faculty member or student when walking around together and reader calls him by his name and suddenly Snape realizes how much he secretly loves the way she calls him or maybe if it’s a student they see, she suddenly gets exposed to how frightened they are of him constantly teases him by calling him professor

Sorry if it’s weird, thanks in advance

PROFESSOR

pairing : prof!severus snape x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as in the request

you never thought that strolling through hogsmeade with severus would become a regular occurrence, but here you were, fingers entwined, as the late-autumn wind softly pulled at your coat.

"darling, you're brooding again." you lightly squeezed his hand as you teased. "considering methods to frighten more pupils."

you noticed the slightest hint of enjoyment at the corner of his mouth as he puffed softly.

"perhaps my current source of annoyance is being reexamined." despite his drawl, he held onto your hand.

you leaned in and laughed. “oh, calm down, my love.”

he sighed softly, as though he was wondering if you were worth the work, yet it was obvious that he was thinking about you because of the way his thumb lightly touched the back of your hand.

you noticed some hogwarts students near the three broomsticks' entrance as you passed the former bookstore. until one of them recognized him, the street was filled with their chatter and laughter. their cheeks lost their color, and they instantly dispersed like frightened birds.

he came to a halt and gently turned to look at you. there was something gentler behind his black eyes as if he were giving your comments more thought than usual, even if they were still set on yours with the same concentrated look.

"repeat that." his voice was low but forceful as he said.

you blinked, taken aback by the abrupt gravity. "professor snape," you teasingly raised a brow.

you might swear his hold on your hand tightened just a bit, but his expression remained the same. he only looked at you for a time, as if you had uttered something meaningful but unintentional.

"interesting," he finally whispered, his tone reserved but thoughtful.

your head cocked. "what is it?"

he responded sharply, "nothing of consequence," but his gaze stayed on yours for a moment longer than was required before he started to move again.

however, you weren't one to take things lightly. "you can't just say 'interesting' and expect me to stop talking about it."

he let out a sigh, the old frustration coming back, but it lacked any true bite. "you're unbearable."

you squeezed his hand and happily murmured, "i know. but you haven't responded to me yet."

the tiniest hint of a smile flickered over his lips, but he swiftly smothered it. "maybe your insistence amuses me."

you gave a victorious smile. "you like it when i call you professor snape, admit it."

he sneered, "nonsense," even if the tips of his ears blushed a little.

you exclaimed, hardly able to contain your laughter, "do they always run like that?"

"they have every reason to," he said bluntly, as if their anxiety were a given.

"professor snape has been frightening kids since the day he was born," you said with a sly smile.

you halted your movement and pulled on his hand until he looked up at you. "it gives you a sense of strength. professor, isn't that right?" you teased by drastically lowering your voice.

"enough." he snarled, although his tone lacked the typical acerbic quality.

"all right, all right." you gave in and chuckled quietly. "you're not possible."

his black eyes softened as he cocked his head slightly. "and yet you're still there."

for a moment, your breath caught, but you quickly disguised it with another smile. "well, someone needs to watch out that you don't frighten away every student."

he let out a sound somewhere between a quiet laugh and a sigh. "so, think of yourself as indispensable."

as he resumed his stroll through hogsmeade hand in hand with you, he couldn’t help but feel a shift within himself. maybe, just maybe, hearing the words “professor snape” from you wasn’t as intolerable as he once thought. in fact, he might even admit that, in the right moment, it held a certain warmth. a warmth he’d never allowed himself to acknowledge until now.

[the7thhorcrux]

Hello! This might be a common theme among Snape fics but…

What do you think about Severus and reader being good friends in school and slowly grow further apart due to his Death Eater status. That is, until they see each other again later in their adult years and maybe dormant affections rekindle?

severus snape, ❝ i missed you. ❞

i just might have an idea for an eventual part two-

༺☆༻

You tried. You really did! But no matter how hard you tried to keep in touch, it wouldn't matter. Because friendship should go both ways. And even though Severus clearly cared for you, you two eventually... drifted apart. You have to admit that you didn't treat his meetings with other Death Eaters seriously at first. But who can blame you? His constant excuses were made to make you think it's nothing serious. "we're just going there to talk" or "they are my friends too, so i need to help them when they need me" were one of the many things you'd hear in your teenage years still at school. But once you both graduated and his 'friend group' turned out to be officially well known literal cult (!), you did set the boundary there. Long talks turned into brief conversations, those into writing letters, until finally Severus stopped replying to those that you had sent. You suspected he didn't even read them at all. Why would he? All you knew was the rumors of what the Death Eaters were doing now and apparently how far they were willing to go to prove their point. You were not only angry but also disappointed. In him, but also in yourself for not reacting sooner, when maybe there still was a chance to stop him. Prevent any of this from happening. Especially now, that the Dark Lord was back.

༺☆༻

You sat at the table, drumming your fingers against the wooden surface as Molly set down a warm cup of tea in front of you. With a small nod and a smile you took a sip. The Order members were still on their way here, as you were informed. It was rather spontaneous - bringing you here to help them. After your contact with Severus died down you decided to focus on your studies, mastering your abilities. And now, your connections and knowledge could be useful to help the Order and many other people. After all, if Albus Dumbledore himself asks for your assistance, then it's probably important. So here you are now. Sitting at the table at Grimmauld Place 12, chatting with Sirius and Molly, drinking tea as they tried to update you on what they got so far. You looked down at the newspaper Arthur brought in, focusing on it briefly as everyone walked into the room where the meeting was supposed to take place in. So many old and new faces you could see again. It should bring you joy, maybe even a sense of comfort. To see old friends again. Yet your heart stopped for a moment as Severus sat down at the end of the table, avoiding your gaze. You looked away, not sure what to do. Smile? Wave? it was confusing, so you decided to focus on more important matters at the moment.

After the meeting (and rather heated argument in between Severus and Sirius, that briefly made you realise how not as much they both had changed) you stood up, looking as the room to cleared. before you could even do anything you saw Severus was already gone. Even though you could've sworn he was right next to you just a moment before.

It was only two meetings later that Severus finally pulled you to the side on your way out of the building.

"Sev!" you blinked, not expecting him to actually initiate any contact with you, and definitely not like that. He muttered your name quietly and you had a feeling he said it out loud for the first time in years.

"I need to talk to you. Just for a minute," he explained. The tone of his voice betrayed how uncomfortable he actually felt at the moment - something you haven't seen in years. he must’ve noticed that too, because he relaxed slightly shortly after you nodded.

"i had no idea you belong to the Order." you said, awkwardly folding your arms on your chest.

"i, as well, was not informed you do too now." he responded, his voice a bit lower this time and tone much colder than he intended.

"is that a problem?" you frowned, asking defensively. "i know you probably didn't wanted to talk to me, but i don't think that our past should have any negative effect on the Order's efficiency-“

“what are you taking about?” he stopped your rambling and frowned.

“you’re not going to ask me to not talk to you outside of the Order meetings?” you asked, also frowning in confusion.

“Merlin, of course not,” he shook his head, visibly frustrated and maybe even annoyed. “i wanted to…” he paused. right. what did he wanted? “i suppose i wanted to say… that I’m sorry.” he muttered.

“you suppose?” you shook your head. “you decided to completely throw away our friendship and for what? to just come back years later? as if nothing happened?” you said, even though your tone betrayed that there was no real anger behind those words; just regret that so many years were wasted.

“that’s my fault. for pushing you away.” he admitted reluctantly. “and i apologize for it.”

“i wrote you letters…” you said quietly after a moment of silence. “…but since you stopped reading them i stopped sending new ones-“

“i was always reading them,” he said defensively. “i still should have them somewhere… i just had no idea what to write to you back.”

You looked up at him, his expression showing how sincere he was in this moment.

“…we should catch up.” you offered quietly. “a lot of things had happened.”

“yes. we definitely should.” he nodded.

After a moment of silence you looked up at him again after he called your name again.

“i missed you.”

You smiled softly, feeling his hands rest on your shoulders gently, pulling you into a hug.

[princesevsnape]

Everything (Severus Snape x Reader)

Requested by anon

Summary: You’re pregnant but can’t tell the man you love out of fear of rejection. And when he dies it’s too late.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: I loved writing this. Please send in more requests

“You’re pregnant.” The words replayed in your head over and over again.

You couldn’t believe it. How were you going to tell Severus? Would he even care?

You decided to keep the news to yourself. For now at least. You and Severus had been in a secret relationship for the last few years.

The upcoming war was enough to make you cautious about telling him. Knowing that the last thing he needed was to find out he was going to be a father. He needed to focus on working with Lord Voldemort and convincing him that he was still on his side. You knew that was the most importatnt thing to him right now. So you kept your mouth shut.

Luckily your robes hid everything so well, so no one other than Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and yourself knew that you were pregnant. There was no way for anyone else to tell that you were getting bigger week by week.

With Severus so busy as headmaster and double agent he barely had enough time for you. You didn’t hate him for it, but it made it easier for you to distance yourself from him. So you did. You slowly pulled away from him more and more, until it got to the point where you barely even acknowledged him in the corridors.

Severus didn’t think much of it. He did regret allowing you to distance yourself from him, he did notice that. But he didn’t try and stop you. He thought with the impending war that everything must have been getting too much for you. Especially with him hardly having the time for you. He knew you deserved better so as much as it hurt to see you distancing yourself from him, he let it happen. As much as he loved you he knew he had to let you go. What he didn’t know was that you distanced yourself from him out of fear of rejection if he were to ever find out you were pregnant.

The last day you saw Severus was the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. When he fled after being confronted by Harry about killing Dumbledore. That was the last you saw of him.

During the Battle you had to stay as far away from any of the conflict as possible. McGonagall thought the safest place for you would be the Headmasters office. So that’s where you stayed. You couldn’t risk getting hurt or worse dying. At this point you were 6 months pregnant. Your robes still hid everything.

You were lost in thought of whether you would ever see Severus again, that you didn’t hear anyone enter the office.

“Professor.” You heard someone say snapping you out of your thoughts.

Looking towards the source of the voice you saw Harry.

“Harry. Is everything ok? Are you ok?” You asked.

“Snapes dead.” He said.

“What?” You asked not quite believing it.

“The snake killed him. He’s gone.” Harry said.

In that moment you felt your whole world falling apart. Falling to your knees on the floor you sobbed.

“Professor are you ok?” He asked kneeling next to you and trying to comfort you.

You shook your head.

“He left his baby behind.” Is all you managed to say.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry said and hugged you.

“What are you doing here anyway Harry?. You should be out there killing that monster.” You asked wiping your tears away.

“Snape told me to take some of his tears as he was dying. He said to use them in the pensieve. Do you want to watch with me?”

You nodded. Together you got up off the floor. Walked over to the pensieve and watched the memories of the man you loved.

So many memories flashed before your eyes. Memories of the times when he was tormented by Harry’s father as a kid. Dumbledore telling Severus to kill him when Draco will ultimately fail, to prove his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Seeing the regret in his eyes as he fullfilled Dumbledores wishes but knowing he had no choice. And the most vivid memories were of the two of you together. You saw how much he loved for and cared for you. Ever since you were kids he had loved you but it wasn’t until you were both professors that he had the courage to do something about those feelings.

“I’m sorry if that was too much for you.” Harry said once the memories were over.

“It’s ok Harry at least now you know he truly was on our side all this time.”

“I should have believed him. I should have believed Dumbledore. I should have believed you and for that I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok Harry. Now go kill that snake and finish off Voldemort. That monster can’t win. I believe in you Harry. Finish this.” You said.

“I will.” He said before running off.

And he did. The snake was gone, and so was Lord Voldemort.

More and more talk of Severus’ death broke your heart. There were different accounts of what actually happened, but you knew Harry’s version was the only correct version.

Once the war was over you found a quiet little house in the country for you and your baby to live. A nice little house that was only missing one thing. Severus. You thought about him every day you cried for him every day.

3 months after the war you gave birth to a beautiful little girl. She had Severus’ eyes. You named her Thalia.

When Thalia was 3 months old you heard a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were a little cautious. Placing Thalia in her crib she started to cry.

Opening your front door you saw a cloaked figure retreating.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” You asked.

At the sound of your familiar voice the person turned around and removed their hood.

You stumbled backwards falling on your ass completely shocked by who it was.

“You’re meant to be dead.” You said.

Making his way back over to you the cloaked figure said “I thought I was”.

Reaching out his hand to help you up off the floor he asked “can I come in?”

You nodded and let him into your home. You gestured for him to sit down. As he did he patted the seat next to him. You reluctantly took the seat. At this point your daughter had stopped crying.

“How are you here?” You asked.

“I thought I had the wrong house at first. I heard a baby crying.” He said.

“How are you here?” You asked him again.

“Honestly I don’t know myself. I thought I was dead. Thought I was a goner after Harry left me. But somehow I was still alive. Barely. But alive. Someone else found me I’m not sure who. I was taken to St Mungo’s they saved my life. Of course I’ve still got scars from that bastard snake. But I’m alive.” He told you.

“How did you find me?” You asked.

“McGonagall. She wouldn’t tell me everything but I went to see her once I was discharged from St Mungo’s. She said you had a house in the country. She only gave me a rough location she didn’t tell me exactly where you were. I’ve been looking for you for the last 3 weeks. This was the last house. When I heard a baby crying I thought this is definitely the wrong house, so I was ready to walk away. I was ready to give up I thought maybe you had moved on from here. But then I heard your voice.”

As if on cue Thalia started to cry again.

“You were pregnant weren’t you?” He asked.

“6 months.” You said.

“I should stop her from crying. Stay there I will be back.” You said before attending to your daughter.

After you had changed her nappy, you turned around to see Severus stood in the doorway.

“Can I hold her?” He asked.

You nodded before going to dispose of the nappy and washing your hands.

When you got back to your bedroom you saw Severus sat on the bed, cradling your daughter in his arms and staring at her with so much adoration.

Sitting next to him you said “I did want to tell you.”

“I know. Is that why you distanced yourself from me?” He asked.

“You were so busy as head master and trying to convince Voldemort you were on his side. You didn’t have much time for me and you. I was also afraid you wouldn’t want to be a father. I thought it was easier to distance myself. Than to drop a massive bombshell like this on you.”

“I would have been there for you. Well as much as I could. I would have never left you if that’s what you were worried about. I just wish I’d have known. I would have gotten us out of there far away where Voldemort could never find us. I would have protected you and our daughter. I just thought it was easier to let you go when I felt you distancing yourself, I knew it was all too much for you. I’m so sorry my love.”

“It’s not your fault Sev. You had to do your job. You almost lost your life for it. When Harry told me you had died it felt like my whole world fell apart. I regretted not telling you. But you’re here now”

“I’m here now. Just like you said. And if you’d have me I’d love to be here for you and our daughter. If of course you decide you don’t want me around I’ll leave you be and I’ll never come here again.” He said placing Thalia back in her crib.

“Don’t you ever say that.” You said taking his hands in yours.

“I just wanted to give you the option.” He said looking into your eyes.

“Me and Thalia need you Sev.” You said.

“Thalia. Such a beautiful name. She looks so much like you.” He said.

“She has your eyes though.” You responded a huge smile on your face.

“So where do we go from here?” Severus asked.

“Well we could start again from scratch. Or we just pick up where we left off.” You suggested.

“Definitely pick up where we left off. If that’s ok with you. I was actually planning on asking you to marry me once the war was over. So marry me.”

“That didn’t sound like much of a question. Sounded more like a demand.” You teased.

“You know me love, I’ve never been one for grand gestures or asking. You know I’m the kind of guy that just says what he wants and I want you to marry me.”

“Then I will marry you. As long as you promise me one thing?”

“What is it my love?”

“Promise me that you love me. Promise me that you won’t leave.”

“I love you so much my darling. And I promise you that I will never leave you. I’m here for you and our daughter. And for all the other kids we end up having. If we have more of course. “

“You want more?” You asked.

“With you my love. I want everything. You are my everything.” He said before finally kissing you.

Everything felt just right. And you were so happy that you finally got the chance to be a family with the man you love.

[lo0py-lunar]

*SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE*

ALRIGHT BITCHES LETS TALK ABOUT THE WAY SEVERUS SMELLS

While reading and writing Severus Snape fanfiction I've noticed no one has a full idea of what he smells like and honestly that is fair.

there is a tldr at the end for the people who don't want to here the rant!

I've seen a lot of people say his main scent node would be sandalwood and HONESTLYYYY I don't think that's accurate. Severus in all accounts does not take care of himself past basic hygiene niceties something like applying a cologne would not be there??

Sure there is an innate musk from his shampoo and body washes (which i think he makes himself but that's more of a doesn't want to spend money when HE HAS PERFECTLY GOOD INGRIDENTS TO MAKE WHAT HE NEEDS RIGH THERE but like i don't think he puts fragrance into them it isn't needed he just needs it to clean him not make him smell good)

SO LIKE HERE IS WHAT I DO THINK HE SMELLS LIKE IN LIKE STRONGEST TO WEAKEST??

Tea

-a self made blend of Chamomile mint and clove-

I've always head cannoned he drinks a lot of it. not because haha British but because it preoccupies him while others are talking so he can note things for future use. I think he makes his own blend because since he is constantly growing herbs and foraging it for potion making it becomes cheaper to just dry out and make your own (i also think he gifts his tea blend at yule time). I think he only makes calming teas. Being around people all the time when its very clear he doesn't want to be you need something to stay calm while there are calming droughts and other potions its widely assumed they can be addictive and yes he could probably make a non addictive version he doesn't have the time. So tea. Chamomile and mint have always been noted to calm nerves and i feel like the clove adds some spice that he enjoys.

Potions / potion ingredients

There are to many to list honestly.

Just in general you can assume the one person making potions for self research, constantly in a class teaching with varying ingredients, Brewing for The castles Medi-wing. Then in the later portion of the story TWO sides of the war. smells like a varying array of ingredients.

It could be said that the smells changes seasonally.

During the fall months he may smell more of ingredients themselves as he would've had to prep certain things that cannot be bought (or are not up to his standard at an apothecary) Yet, during the winter months when flu season is happening the lingering scent of brewed pepper up because those snot nosed kids sure as hell cant make it themselves. Spring would be whatever his classes are working on he wouldn't have time to do any research.

Summer though, Summer i think is when that smell changes the most. There are no kids he needs to brew for right away so he can focus on whatever potion he wishes to improve or outright create he can work with more dangerous ingredients.

That changes during the war of course he now has the workload from voldy and than we can assume he is at least brewing wolfsbane monthly for the order (the snupin shipper in me wishes to think he started brewing it during Remus tenure as the DADA teacher and just never stopped. he constantly badgers Remus for his new address to ensure he takes the potion to stop that daft wolf from doing anything idiotic it just becomes easier when he knows that he would be at grimmuald place) And than whatever they need for "war purposes".

Lavender

now hold on i thought you said he wouldn't use any cologne or anything like that. YES BUT i think he would use lavender in floral form or in oil for as a calming agent to sleep. I think this would've started when he was young possibly something his mother would do to soothe nightmares, (a sprig under his pillow or a dab of oil into the case itself) and he carried that on when he went to Hogwarts later when he returned to teach mentioning it in passing to Pamona and she gifts him new sprigs and oils for yule every year.

Tabaco

This one is honestly pure head cannon. But it makes sense to me he was raised in a coal town were he was constantly surrounded by booze and smokes. He would've picked up at least one of those habits and seeing his dad and the at the time normality of smoking yeah he would've done it. I think he quit for a while keep a pack tucked into his drawers in case he had a really bad teaching day and needed a hit of nicotine to make him not throttle anyone. But when both wars where happening i think he allowed himself to just smoke. Smoke when he wanted smoke to numb himself to whatever remarks were made about him at any meeting he showed too. Its a vice we all need one and i think its his.

SO YEAH.

I think he just naturally smells more floral and herbal than "woodsy" he may have a bottle or two of more masculine scents he was given from the Malfoys that he wears when forced into social events or when they are around him. But given what we know i think it wouldn't be sandalwood or driftwood whiskeys or scotch etc. (I'm also in the head cannon while he owns booze he doesn't drink often for fear of becoming his dad)

TLDR: I think Severus Snape smells mostly of Tea, Potions/Potion ingredients Lavender and Tabaco.

WHAT DO YOU ALL THINK I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW

<3