thatfatbitxch

[thatfatbitxch]

How it began

(The muggle wife)

Pairing: Severus Snape x muggle reader

Summary: Y/N, a muggle nurse, stumbles upon an injured Severus Snape in an alley. Despite his gruff demeanor, she insists on helping him.

Note: This is a prequel to The Muggle Wife! This is how they met and the beginning of their relationship. I’m thinking of turning it into a series, so stay tuned for more.

Thank you @nousija for the idea!

Masterlist

The muggle wife

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

It was nearly 2 a.m. when Y/N finally finished her shift. She’d stayed later than expected, tending to a particularly difficult patient who had needed more care than anyone had anticipated. Her colleagues, who were about to head home, gave her concerned looks as she gathered her things.

“Are you sure you’re okay to walk home this late?” one of them asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied, her smile reassuring. “I just live a few blocks away. Besides, I could use the walk to clear my head.”

Her colleague didn’t look convinced, but Y/N waved them off and headed out into the chilly night air. The streets were quieter than usual, with only the occasional sound of a distant car passing. She pulled her coat tighter around her and began walking the familiar path home.

As she neared her place she passed an alleyway, a movement caught her eye. At first, she thought it was just a stray animal, but as she got closer, she saw a man slumped against the brick wall, looking like he was trying to gather the strength to stand. His clothes were disheveled, and he looked far too unkempt to be anyone she knew.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, crouching down beside him. She wasn’t sure if he was even conscious, but she figured she’d try.

The man’s eyes flickered open, and Y/N was taken aback by the sharpness of his gaze. He was older, with dark, messy hair and an angry expression that made him look like he was perpetually annoyed.

Y/N noticed some blood and dirt on his clothes and the way his body was angled awkwardly, as if he were trying to avoid putting pressure on his side.

“Okay, well, you clearly need help,” she said, already rummaging through her bag for something. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her of the snack she had been meaning to eat earlier but had forgotten. “I have some Goldfish crackers,” she offered awkwardly, holding out the small packet.

The man stared at her, unimpressed. “I don’t need your pity.”

Y/N wasn’t fazed by his gruff response. “I’m not pitying you, I’m offering you a snack,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re hurt, and I’m not just going to leave you here.”

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but he didn’t push her away. Instead, he let out a slow, painful breath. Y/N took that as a sign to proceed.

Y/N’s eyes softened with sympathy as the man winced, trying to sit up straighter. His attempts were futile, and she could see the pain was getting to him. But it wasn’t until she took a closer look that the full extent of his injuries became apparent.

Blood was seeping through the dark fabric of his robes, and she could see the jagged tear in his side where he’d clearly been injured. The way he moved, favoring one side, told her he had likely hurt more than just his arm or leg. Her nurse’s instincts kicked in, and she immediately felt a rush of concern.

“You need to go to a hospital,” she insisted, her voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I can help—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice low and harsh. “I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t need—” He cut off as he tried to stand, clearly struggling against the pain.

Y/N frowned, her heart racing as she assessed his condition. The blood loss was worse than she initially thought, and the injuries looked too severe to ignore. “You’re hurt badly,” she said, moving closer. “You can barely stand, and you’re bleeding. I’m not letting you go anywhere like this.”

He glared at her, as if her concern was some personal offense, but he didn’t make a move to stop her as she reached into her bag for anything useful.

“Look,” she said, her voice taking on a more soothing tone, “if you don’t want to go to the hospital, at least let me clean you up. I have materials at my place. It’s just around the corner.”

The man shot her a skeptical look, clearly not thrilled at the idea of accepting help from a complete stranger.

“You’re out of your mind,” he muttered, though the way he was grimacing suggested he wasn’t as confident in that statement as he appeared.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’m a nurse,” she said, keeping her tone even. “I know what I’m doing. If you don’t want to go to the hospital, at least let me make sure you’re not getting worse. If you’re still determined to refuse help, then fine, but I won’t just leave you like this.”

There was a long silence, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to refuse again. But then, with a resigned grunt, he slowly nodded.

“Fine,” he said, his voice barely audible as he allowed her to help him to his feet. “But no funny business.”

Y/N almost smiled at the absurdity of his request. “I assure you, I’m only interested in making sure you don’t bleed out in the street.”

Y/N helped him through the door of her small apartment, which was dimly lit and smelled faintly of lavender. She gestured for him to sit on the worn armchair near the window, her hands moving with purpose as she gathered the supplies she would need. The entire time, Severus remained silent, his face locked in a permanent scowl as he slumped into the chair, clearly irritated by the situation.

Y/N set the first aid kit on the small table beside him and began unwrapping the materials. As she moved around, she stole a glance at him, noting how his robes looked out of place in her humble, modern apartment.

“You know,” she said, trying to fill the silence with some sort of conversation, “you really don’t look like you belong in this century.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t respond. Y/N, undeterred, continued her work.

“Seriously,” she went on, “those robes… They look like they’re from a completely different time period. Where did you get those? They look like something out of a historical drama.” She smiled at the thought of it, hoping to lighten the mood. “I almost expected you to say you’re a wizard from the 1800s or something.”

Severus said nothing, his eyes narrowed as he watched her move around the room. Y/N didn’t mind the silence. It was strange, but she’d learned early in her career that some patients preferred to be left alone to brood, and he clearly fit that category.

As she cleaned the gash along his side, Y/N glanced up at him again, trying to gauge his mood. He was still as tense as ever, but there was something almost… familiar about his stiff demeanor. Maybe it was the way he avoided meeting her eyes, or the way his posture suggested he was trying to make himself as small as possible despite his obvious height.

She continued cleaning the wound, occasionally glancing at him as she worked. “I don’t even know your name,” she added, almost absently. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I know you’re not keen on talking, but it’s the least I can do to introduce myself.”

Severus didn’t respond to that either, but Y/N didn’t let it bother her. She was used to patients who kept to themselves.

Y/N worked with practiced ease, carefully wrapping the bandage around his side. Despite his silence, she could tell he was still watching her—his sharp, dark eyes following every movement like a wary animal deciding whether or not to trust her.

“There,” she murmured, securing the dressing. “That should hold for now.”

Still, no response.

Y/N exhaled and stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “I’ll get you some water,” she said, disappearing into the small kitchenette before he could refuse.

When she returned, she handed him a glass. “Here,” she said, “you look like you could use it.”

He hesitated but eventually took it from her without a word, sipping slowly.

She plopped onto the couch across from him, tucking her legs underneath herself. “So,” she began, leaning her chin in her hand, “you going to tell me how you ended up bleeding in an alley at two in the morning, or do I have to assume you’re a time traveler who got into a sword fight?”

Severus let out a quiet huff—something that might have been a scoff.

“No?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Then what, a robbery gone wrong? Did you offend a particularly aggressive tailor?”

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

Y/N smirked. “Ah, so you do speak.”

He shot her a pointed look, but she just took a sip of her drink, looking entirely unfazed.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” she mused. “That’s alright. I know a lot of people like that. Some patients just like to sit in silence and glare at me, so I’m used to it.”

Severus sighed, setting the glass on the small table beside him. “You are… persistent.”

She grinned. “I’ve been told that before.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem as tense anymore. Just tired.

He felt Safe.

Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, watching him curiously. “Well, whatever trouble you got into tonight, at least you ended up in the right place.”

Severus scoffed but didn’t argue.

That, she decided, was progress.

Severus sat in silence for a while, his fingers absently tracing the rim of the glass Y/N had given him. The warmth of the room, the scent of lavenders, the quiet hum of the city outside—it was strangely comforting. Too comforting.

He had lingered too long.

With a sharp inhale, he straightened and placed the glass down with deliberate care. “I should go.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Go?” She frowned, glancing at the fresh bandages she had just finished wrapping. “You can barely stand.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Right.” She snorted. “Because that’s been working out so well for you so far.”

Severus gave her a sharp look, but she only crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

“I’m serious,” she continued. “You lost a lot of blood. You should at least rest for a bit before you—”

“No.” His voice was firm. Final.

Y/N exhaled slowly, studying him. He was determined, that much was obvious. Stubborn, too.

“Alright,” she relented, standing up. “Fine. At least let me help you to the door.”

“I don’t need—”

She ignored him, stepping closer and offering her arm. “Humor me.”

Severus clenched his jaw, then, with clear reluctance, allowed her to help him to his feet. He was unsteady at first, his body protesting the movement, but he forced himself upright.

Y/N walked him to the door, releasing him once he seemed steady enough on his own.

“Look,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, “I don’t know what your deal is, but if you ever need help again…” She gestured vaguely to the apartment. “You know where to find me.”

He stared at her, unreadable. Then, after a pause, he inclined his head ever so slightly—a nod that almost went unnoticed.

Then, without another word, he turned and stepped out into the night.

Y/N watched him disappear into the darkness, shaking her head with a bemused smile.

“Grumpy bastard,” she muttered under her breath before closing the door.

Little did she know, that wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.

⸻

Y/N was sleeping soundly when the sound of her bedroom door creaking open jolted her awake.

“Y/N!”

She cracked one eye open, groggy and disoriented. “What?”

Her roommate, Sophie, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and an incredulous look on her face. “Why is there so much bloody gauze in the bathroom trash?”

Y/N blinked, rubbing her eyes. “Oh. That.” She yawned. “It’s from a guy I met last night.”

Sophie’s expression turned downright horrified. “A guy you met last night?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Sophie gasped. “There was a man in our apartment?”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, he was injured. I was just helping him.”

“Helping him?” Sophie threw her hands in the air. “With what, murder wounds?”

Y/N snorted. “Dramatic much?” She sat up, stretching her arms over her head. “I found him in an alley. He was bleeding, wouldn’t go to the hospital, so I patched him up here.”

Sophie’s mouth opened and closed, at a complete loss for words. “You brought him here?”

“It was right around the corner.” Y/N shrugged. “Seemed easier.”

Sophie ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process the situation. “Y/N, you cannot just bring strange men home from alleyways! That’s, like, the number one rule of not getting murdered!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a murderer. Just… grumpy.” She frowned slightly, thinking back to the way he had left. “I’m not even sure if he was homeless or not, but I hope he’s okay. He was kind of cute but in a weird way.”

Sophie stared at her, mouth agape. “You hope he’s okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh my God.” Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. “You are insane. No, worse. You’re chronically single insane.”

Y/N snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you need to stop playing Florence Nightingale to brooding mystery men and go on an actual date with someone normal!”

Y/N laughed. “Right, because you’re such a great example of healthy dating?”

Sophie huffed. “At least my boyfriend doesn’t wander in from a back alley.”

Y/N smirked. “Well, that’s boring.”

Sophie groaned and flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Y/N grinned, lying back down. “Nah. I patch people up, remember?”

Sophie just groaned louder.

⸻

A few days passed, and Y/N barely thought about the grumpy, bleeding man she had helped. Okay, maybe barely was a lie. She thought about him a little—mostly wondering if he was alright. But she had no way of knowing, and honestly, he didn’t seem like the type to send a thank-you note.

She had just finished grabbing a coffee on her break when she saw him.

It was one of those moments where her brain took an extra second to catch up—like seeing a familiar face in a place they didn’t belong.

Severus Snape.

Only, he didn’t look like he had that night.

Instead of looking like a man who had just crawled out of a grave, he was… well, still pale and scowling, but noticeably put together. His dark robes were replaced with a long black coat that swayed slightly as he walked, and his posture was straighter, more purposeful. He looked out of place, like he didn’t belong among the people bustling through the streets, chatting on their phones, sipping overpriced lattes.

Y/N froze, coffee halfway to her mouth.

What the hell?

She wasn’t crazy, right? That was him.

Before she could think twice, she called out, “Hey!”

Severus turned his head slightly, eyes flickering to her.

For a split second, she swore she saw something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe? Annoyance?—but then, without so much as a nod of acknowledgment, he turned around and walked away.

“Oh, you asshole,” she muttered under her breath, already moving after him.

She wasn’t sure why she followed—curiosity? Mild irritation? Both?—but she wove through the crowd, keeping her eyes on his dark figure as he moved effortlessly through the busy street.

“Hey!” she called again, quickening her pace. “Seriously? You’re just gonna pretend you don’t know me?”

Nothing.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t turn.

Y/N scowled. Oh, hell no.

She pushed through the last group of people between them and grabbed his coat sleeve.

Severus stopped abruptly, stiffening at the contact.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to look at her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I get the whole ‘mysterious brooding man’ thing, but seriously? You just walk away after I literally saved your life?”

Severus stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I did not require saving.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh. “Ohhh, right. Because bleeding out in an alley is just a minor inconvenience.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Y/N crossed her arms. “You know, you could at least say something. ‘Thanks for not leaving me to die’ would be a good start.”

Severus glanced around, as if checking to see if anyone was watching. Then, lowering his voice, he muttered, “You should not be speaking to me.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

Severus exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience clearly running thin. “Because it would be unwise.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Unwise how? Am I in danger?”

He didn’t answer.

Which was, frankly, a terrible answer.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Alright, look. You show up bleeding in an alley, refuse to go to the hospital, vanish without a trace, and now you’re lurking around town dressed like the world’s most exhausted vampire.” She pointed at him. “That is suspicious.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that she didn’t catch.

“Okay, fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “You don’t want to talk? Whatever. But I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, dead. So, congratulations. You’re alive. Great talk.”

She turned on her heel, fully intending to walk away.

But then—

“…I did not say I was ungrateful.”

Y/N paused.

Slowly, she turned back to him. “What?”

Severus didn’t quite meet her eyes, his expression still guarded. “I merely meant… that it would be in your best interest not to concern yourself with me.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet laugh. “You know,” she said, “for someone who wants me to forget about them, you’re doing a pretty terrible job of being forgettable.”

Something flickered in his expression—just for a second—but then it was gone.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Y/N stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the crowd. Then a thought struck her.

Wait a second…

she still didn’t even know his.

“Wait!” she called after him. “What’s your name?”

Severus paused mid-step, his back still to her.

For a moment, she thought he might ignore her again.

Then, without turning around, he said, “Severus.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N blinked. Severus.

Weird name.

But then again, everything about him was weird.

[thatfatbitxch]

A Healing Bath

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Summary: You are sick and Severus surprises you with a bath to make you feel better

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

You hadn’t meant to sleep this long but you haven’t been feeling the best. The weight of exhaustion still pressed against you, but something was different. The air was thick with steam, carrying the unmistakable scent of your favorite bath bomb—warm, soothing, familiar. In the distance, you heard the faint sloshing of water. Someone moving.

Severus.

You blinked slowly, your groggy mind piecing things together. He had been here before you drifted off, his hand cool against your forehead, his voice murmuring something indistinct. Now, as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you saw him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that careful, assessing gaze of his.

He said nothing at first, simply tilting his head slightly, as if deciding whether you were awake enough to move. Then, without a word, he stepped aside.

Beyond him, the bathroom was filled with rolling steam, the water in the large tub shimmering under the flickering candlelight. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus mixed with something deeper—potions, no doubt, carefully infused into the bath. It was deliberate. Thoughtful.

For you.

Before you could speak, he was already moving, reaching out with a touch that was firm yet impossibly gentle, his hand warm as it wrapped around your wrist, guiding you up. The sensation sent a pleasant shiver through you, one that had nothing to do with the fever lingering beneath your skin.

“This will help.”

His voice was quiet, but certain, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, your lips parting, but the words never came. He had done all this for you. The bath, the potions, the warmth that filled the room like a silent promise.

Instead, you let him lead you forward, your body still heavy with fatigue, though a little lighter under his touch. When you reached the tub, you turned to him, your voice softer than you intended.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

His lips twitched—just slightly. “You are impossibly stubborn when ill. If I left it to you, you’d be suffering twice as much.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you. “You do realize this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, right?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was something softer in his expression. “Then I fear for the kind of company you’ve kept before me.”

You smiled, your heart warming in a way that had nothing to do with the bath. Slowly, you slipped into the water, sighing as the heat enveloped you, soothing the aches in your body. The potion-infused water worked quickly, easing your congestion, loosening the stiffness in your muscles. You let your head rest back against the rim of the tub, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as you exhaled.

When you opened them again, you caught something rare—on Severus’s lips, the faintest smirk. Not one of amusement, nor sarcasm, but something else. Pleased.

“You’re smirking,” you murmured, tilting your head to look at him.

He arched a brow. “Am I?”

“You are,” you confirmed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips as you sank deeper into the warmth.

There was a pause, then: “Good.”

You watched him for a moment, taking in the way he lingered near the tub, his fingers resting on the edge as if debating something. The candlelight cast long shadows against his sharp features, softening them, making him look almost… at peace.

“Stay?” The word slipped past your lips before you could second-guess yourself. It was barely more than a whisper, hesitant, uncertain.

Severus didn’t hesitate.

Without a word, he pulled the stool from the corner of the room, settling beside the tub with practiced ease. His robes pooled around him as he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, close enough that you could feel his presence like a tangible weight in the air.

Your heart swelled at the quiet intimacy of it.

You shifted slightly, letting your fingers trail absentmindedly through the water before murmuring, “You know, you’re a lot sweeter than you let on.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t start.”

A lazy grin curled at your lips. “It’s true. You’re taking care of me.”

“I’m ensuring you don’t make yourself worse,” he corrected, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. Instead, it was softer, quieter. “That is hardly the same thing.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Mmm. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Another silence stretched between you, but it was a comfortable one. The soft crackling of the fire beyond the door, the faint dripping of water, the warmth of his presence beside you—it was enough.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice lower now, quieter.

“…You should tell me when you’re feeling unwell.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet concern in his tone.

“I didn’t want to be a bother,” you admitted softly.

His gaze darkened slightly. “You are never a bother.”

Something about the way he said it, so firm, so certain, sent warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed, your fingers skimming idly across the surface of the water before you murmured, “I’ll tell you next time.”

He studied you for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Good.”

You smiled, reaching out to rest your hand on the edge of the tub—just close enough to brush your fingers against his. He didn’t pull away.

And in that quiet moment, with warmth surrounding you and Severus by your side, you realized you had never felt more cared for in your life.

Severus didn’t move his hand away from yours. He didn’t grasp it, either, but the weight of his fingers lingering near your own was enough. A silent acknowledgment. A quiet promise.

You let out a soft sigh, shifting in the water, the warmth still seeping into your aching muscles, soothing the heaviness in your limbs. “What are you thinking about?”

A pause. Then, softly, “That you seem… better.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something carefully measured.

You swallowed, glancing down at the water before looking back at him. “I feel better.”

Another pause. Then, quieter, “Good.”

His fingers twitched against yours, and this time, when you moved to entwine them, he didn’t pull away. His hand was warm, rough with callouses, but steady. Always steady.

You squeezed lightly, your voice dropping to something softer. “Severus.”

His eyes flicked to yours at the sound of his name, his expression unreadable.

“I mean it,” you said, watching him carefully. “Thank you.”

His jaw tightened slightly, as if he were about to brush off your words, dismiss them the way he so often did with any kind of sentiment. But something in the way you looked at him must have stopped him. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers tightening around yours ever so slightly.

“…You needn’t thank me,” he murmured, voice low.

You smiled. “I know. But I wanted to.”

His thumb brushed absently against your knuckles—a motion, so brief you might have imagined it. But you didn’t.

The warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the bath anymore.

You let the silence stretch between you for a while, just soaking in the comfort of his presence, of the way he stayed beside you without question.

After a moment, you let out a small sigh, stretching again beneath the water. “I suppose I should get out before I turn into a prune.”

Severus hummed in agreement but made no move to leave. His hand remained lightly curled around yours, even as you sat up, droplets of water sliding down your skin.

You hesitated, glancing toward the towel rack, then back at him. “Would you—?”

Before you could finish, he was already moving, standing fluidly and retrieving a towel with practiced ease. He didn’t hesitate as he held it open, waiting for you to step out.

Your heart gave a little stutter at the gesture.

Carefully, you rose from the water, the cooler air nipping at your damp skin as Severus wrapped the towel around you in one smooth motion. His hands were firm yet gentle as they settled over your shoulders, steadying you, ensuring you didn’t sway from lingering exhaustion.

You exhaled, leaning slightly into his touch, your damp skin pressing against the rough fabric of his robes. He stiffened for half a second—just a half-second—before relaxing, his grip on you shifting, grounding.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke. “You take such good care of me.”

Severus let out a slow breath, his fingers brushing briefly against your temple, tucking a stray, damp lock of hair behind your ear.

“You make it difficult not to,” he murmured.

Slowly, you tipped your head up, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes held something unreadable, something softer than usual, something that made your breath catch.

“Severus,” you whispered, the space between you charged with something quiet, something fragile.

For a moment, he simply looked at you. Then, with careful, deliberate slowness, he reached up, fingers ghosting along your jaw, his touch feather-light, as if testing the moment, testing you.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you leaned in.

And just like that, the smallest barrier between you broke.

His lips met yours, soft but certain, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It wasn’t hurried, nor desperate, but something far more intimate—unspoken words woven between the way his hand cradled the back of your neck, the way you sighed against his mouth, the way he stayed close even as he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

A long silence stretched between you, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in the other room.

Then, quietly, almost too soft to hear—

“You should get some rest.”

You smiled, your fingers curling around the front of his robes. “Stay?”

This time, he didn’t hesitate at all.

“Of course.”

[thatfatbitxch]

Bubble trouble

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Sirius surprises you with a bath

Masterlist

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

The moment you stepped through the door, you were met with an unmistakable silence. No barking laughter, no off-key singing, no Sirius dramatically complaining about something inconsequential—just quiet. And that, more than anything, put you on edge.

“Sirius?” you called, cautiously stepping inside.

No response.

Your brows furrowed as you set your bag down, your body aching from a long day. Just as you were about to search for him, you caught the faint scent of something… floral? It was subtle, but undeniably there, curling through the air like an invitation.

Curious, you followed it down the hall and stopped in your tracks at the bathroom door. The warm glow of candlelight flickered from within, and when you peeked inside, your jaw nearly dropped.

Sirius stood beside the clawfoot tub, sleeves rolled up, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he tested the water with his hand. The tub itself was overflowing with bubbles—so many that a few had escaped over the rim onto the floor. Floating amongst them were delicate flower petals, a mix of roses and lavender, turning the water into something that looked positively luxurious.

As if sensing your presence, Sirius turned, flashing you that familiar mischievous grin. “There you are, love.”

You raised a brow. “What… is all this?”

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you truly think me incapable of romance?”

You laughed, stepping forward. “No, but I do think you’re incapable of drawing a bath without making a mess.”

Sirius glanced at the bubbles spilling onto the floor and shrugged. “Minor details.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh, feeling some of the day’s tension melt away just from looking at the setup. “Why did you do all this?”

His expression softened as he reached for your hands, pulling you close. “Because you’ve been running yourself ragged, and I don’t like seeing you worn down. Thought you could use a bit of pampering.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Besides, I quite like the idea of watching you lounge in a tub full of bubbles.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through your chest. “So it’s a selfless act and a selfish one at the same time?”

He smirked. “That’s the best kind, isn’t it?”

With a dramatic flourish, he helped you out of your clothes, his fingers teasing over your skin as he guided you into the water. The warmth enveloped you immediately, drawing a satisfied sigh from your lips. Sirius, ever the doting troublemaker, grabbed a handful of bubbles and plopped them onto your head like a makeshift crown.

“There. Now you’re officially royalty.”

You flicked some bubbles back at him. “And you’re officially ridiculous.”

He grinned, perching on the edge of the tub. “Guilty as charged.”

But, of course, Sirius Black was not a man who could be trusted to simply sit still. Not for long, anyway. His fingers trailed through the water absentmindedly, swirling the bubbles around you.

Then he sighed dramatically, stretching his arms behind his head. “You know… it’s a bit of a tragedy.”

You tilted your head. “What is?”

He gave you a slow, lazy smirk. “That I went through all this effort, set up the candles, added the fancy flower petals, even managed not to set anything on fire—and yet, here I am, completely dry.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Sirius—”

“No, no, don’t try to talk me out of it,” he said, already tugging his sweater over his head. “I’ve made my decision.”

You groaned, sinking further into the bubbles. “The bath was supposed to be for me.”

“Oh, darling, but it is for you.” He winked, tossing his shirt onto the floor. “I’m simply here as… a humble offering.”

You barely had time to protest before he climbed into the tub behind you, settling in with a satisfied sigh. The water sloshed dangerously close to the edge, and you had to grab onto the rim to steady yourself.

“Sirius!” you yelped. “There’s barely enough room!”

He nuzzled against your shoulder, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. “Nonsense. This is cozy.”

You tried to glare at him, but it was hard to be annoyed when his lips were pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of your neck.

“You smell like lavender,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s doing things to me.”

You snorted. “Everything does things to you.”

He grinned, his fingers ghosting over your stomach. “Only when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes but melted against his chest, letting him pull you closer. Despite his antics, you had to admit—it was nice, the feeling of his warmth against your back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers trailed absentminded patterns over your arm, slow and soothing.

“See?” he murmured. “Told you this was a good idea.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “Mmm. I suppose I can’t complain.”

He kissed your temple, then chuckled. “Good. Now, be honest with me…”

You hummed in question.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “How mad would you be if I accidentally kicked over one of those candles?”

Your eyes shot open. “Sirius.”

“…Too late?”

The next five minutes were spent scrambling out of the bath as one of the candles tipped over, nearly setting a towel on fire. Sirius, for all his romantic gestures, was still Sirius, after all.

But later, when you were both dried off and curled up in bed, his arms tangled around you, his lips pressed lazily against your shoulder, you decided that—even with his chaos—Sirius Black was absolutely worth it.

[thatfatbitxch]

Bubble Bath

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Remus surprises you with a bubble bath after a long day at work.

Note: I plan on making a couple versions of this prompt using different characters. So far I’m working on Severus and Sirius but I’m open to other suggestions.

Masterlist

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

As soon as you stepped into your shared home, exhaustion weighed on you like a heavy cloak. Being an Auror was rewarding, but after today’s particularly grueling case, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed and forget about the world.

It had been a long day—one of those days where nothing seemed to go right, where your patience had been tested to its very limit. Every muscle in your body ached, and all you wanted to do was collapse face-first onto the nearest soft surface.

You barely managed to kick off your shoes before a warm, familiar voice called from down the hall.

“Love? Is that you?”

Remus.

Just hearing his voice was enough to make your shoulders sag with relief. He always had that effect on you—calm, steady, grounding. You followed the sound of his voice, noticing the flicker of soft light coming from the bathroom. When you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

The room had been transformed. Candles flickered from every surface, casting a golden glow across the walls. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, curling around you like a warm embrace. The bathtub—large and inviting—was filled to the brim with bubbles, the water shimmering in the candlelight. A fluffy towel sat neatly on the counter, along with one of Remus’s oversized sweaters, which you loved to steal.

Your heart swelled. “Remus… did you do all this?”

He stood by the tub, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I had a feeling you might need it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You looked absolutely wrecked when you left this morning.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “That obvious, huh?”

He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist, thumbs tracing soft circles over your hips. “I could hear it in your voice before you even left the bed.” His forehead dipped to rest against yours, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “You give so much to everyone else. I thought maybe you could use someone taking care of you for a change.”

Your chest tightened, the day’s stress unraveling at his touch, at the warmth in his voice. You reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint scar just beneath his eye. “You’re too good to me.”

He smirked, kissing the tip of your nose. “I’ll let you get in before the water gets cold.”

With careful hands, he helped you out of your clothes, his fingers trailing over your skin as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you. But there was nothing rushed or heated about it—just quiet reverence, an unspoken promise in every touch.

As you sank into the water, a sigh of pure bliss escaped your lips. The warmth seeped into your tired muscles, and the scent of lavender wrapped around you like a blanket. Remus crouched beside the tub, resting his chin on his folded arms atop the rim, watching you with nothing but fondness.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he teased, reaching out to swirl his fingers through the bubbles.

You hummed in agreement, sinking deeper. “I might never get out.”

His lips twitched. “I suppose I could bring you meals in here, then. Keep you hydrated, read to you…”

You chuckled. “Are you saying you’d take care of me forever if I refused to leave this bath?”

His expression softened. “You never have to ask.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you reached out, fingers brushing through his hair. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked after a moment, voice quiet.

You blinked in surprise, then nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

Remus rolled up his sleeves further and reached for the pitcher sitting on the edge of the tub. With gentle hands, he tilted your head back, carefully pouring the warm water over your hair. His fingers worked through the strands, massaging your scalp with a tenderness that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Merlin, how did you get so lucky?

“Mm,” you sighed, eyes slipping shut. “If you keep this up, I really won’t ever leave the bath.”

He chuckled, his fingers still carding through your hair. “Well, I certainly don’t mind spoiling you.”

You cracked one eye open. “What’s the occasion?”

His hand stilled for a moment before he leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “You don’t need an occasion,” he murmured. “I just love you.”

Your heart nearly melted into the water.

The rest of the bath was spent in quiet conversation—soft laughter, gentle teasing, the occasional splash of bubbles when Remus got too smug about something. He stayed with you the entire time, never once growing impatient, never once making you feel like he had anywhere else to be.

And when you were finally ready to get out, he wrapped you in the fluffiest towel and pulled you against his chest, pressing lingering kisses to the top of your damp hair.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “I think a certain someone deserves a foot massage next.”

You laughed into his sweater. “You’re making it very hard to believe you’re not a saint, you know that?”

He smirked, tilting your chin up to steal one last kiss. “Ah, well. Don’t tell anyone. I do have a reputation to maintain.”

And with that, he scooped you up in his arms—laughing at your surprised squeak—and carried you off to bed, where the night would end the same way it always did.

Wrapped in his warmth. Safe. Loved.

Exactly where you belonged.

[thatfatbitxch]

May I have a teen Severus x muggle reader(but they know about the wizarding world from him) please? Thank you!

Pairing: Teen Severus x muggle reader

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

The wind howled outside the small, dimly lit house on Spinner’s End. Severus Snape sat in the worn-out couch near the fireplace, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable as he stared at the flames. Across from him, Y/N watched him carefully, fingers curled around the chipped mug of tea she had brought over.

It had been months since they last saw each other, and even longer since they had spoken properly. Severus was in his final year at Hogwarts now, returning home only for the holidays. Y/N, bound to the Muggle world, remained stuck in the same dreary existence she had always known.

He looked thinner than before, more tired. The shadows under his eyes were deeper, and the tension in his jaw never seemed to fade. He wasn’t the same awkward, sharp-tongued boy she had grown up with.

“You’ve barely said anything since you got here,” she murmured, breaking the silence between them.

Severus exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “There’s nothing much to say.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s a lie.”

He scoffed but didn’t argue. There was a moment of stillness before his gaze flickered to her. “Do you ever wish you were somewhere else?” he asked suddenly.

She blinked, surprised by the question.

“All the time,” she admitted. “But it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

Severus didn’t reply right away. Instead, his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly.

Years ago…

The summer air was thick with the scent of damp earth as an eight-year-old Severus sat cross-legged on the grass, plucking at a loose thread on his oversized shirt. Y/N sat beside him, knees drawn to her chest, their shoulders nearly touching.

“My dad’s been in a foul mood again,” she muttered, poking at the dirt with a stick.

Severus didn’t respond immediately, but she saw his fingers clench slightly. “Mine too.”

They didn’t have to say much to understand each other. That was how it had always been.

Y/N shifted, turning to face him. “Tell me about magic again.”

That made him glance at her, a small spark lighting up his usually solemn face. “You still don’t believe me?”

“I do,” she said quickly. “I just like hearing about it.”

Severus hesitated for a moment before lifting his hand. “Alright. Watch this.”

With a flick of his fingers, the small flower in front of them slowly bent its stem, curling toward Y/N as if reaching for her. She gasped, eyes wide with amazement.

“That’s incredible,” she whispered.

A faint, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It’s not much,” he admitted, “but it’s real.”

Y/N grinned. “When you go to Hogwarts, you’ll be the best wizard there, I bet.”

Severus’s expression faltered slightly, and he looked away. “Maybe.”

Her smile faded. “You’re still going to write to me, right?”

He hesitated before nodding. “Of course.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Just because you’ll be in some big castle learning magic doesn’t mean you can forget about me.”

He scoffed. “As if I could.”

Present Day

Y/N studied him now, wondering if the boy from her memories was still in there somewhere.

“You never did write to me as much as you promised,” she finally said, breaking the silence again.

Severus smirked faintly but didn’t deny it. “I was busy.”

“Too busy for your best friend?” she teased lightly, though there was a small edge of hurt behind it.

His smirk faded, and something passed over his expression—regret, maybe. But then, just as quickly, he buried it beneath his usual unreadable mask.

“I didn’t forget about you,” he said quietly.

She met his gaze, searching for the truth in his words.

“Good,” she murmured.

Because neither of them had anyone else.

—

The winter wind howled outside as Y/N sat curled up in bed, the dim glow of her bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. She had tried to read, but the words on the page blurred together, her mind too restless to focus.

Then came the knock.

It wasn’t loud, but it was urgent.

Y/N’s heart stuttered. It was nearly midnight—there was only one person who would come to her this late. She threw off the blankets and hurried to the door, barely pausing before pulling it open.

Severus stood there, his dark hair damp from the sleet, his face pale against the night. His breathing was even, too even—like he was forcing himself to stay calm. But she saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

He looked exhausted.

She stepped aside immediately, letting him in without a word

The door clicked shut behind them, the warmth of the house wrapping around them both.

“Sit,” she murmured, nodding toward the couch.

He hesitated only for a moment before sinking down, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands were clenched into fists, his long fingers pressing into the fabric of his robes.

She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two cups of tea. She set one in front of him and curled up beside him, careful not to crowd him.

Minutes passed in silence.

Then, finally, he exhaled. “He was worse than usual.”

Y/N didn’t need to ask who he was.

Severus’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Came home drunk. Started yelling at my mother. She just—stood there. Took it.” His voice was low, controlled—but underneath it, she heard the anger. The helplessness. “I told him to stop. He turned on me instead.”

Her stomach twisted. “Did he—?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, cutting her off.

But she saw the way he kept his weight slightly off his left side, the tension in his movements.

Y/N hesitated before reaching out, resting her fingers lightly on his sleeve. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone, you know.”

His shoulders stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“I do, though,” he muttered.

“No, you don’t,” she said firmly. “You have me.”

He scoffed, but it wasn’t cruel. “You can’t fix this, Y/N.”

“I know,” she admitted. “But I can be here. That’s something, isn’t it?”

For the first time that night, Severus looked at her—really looked at her. There was something unguarded in his expression, something vulnerable.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is.”

She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Good.”

They sat there in silence, the tea growing cold between them. But for the first time that holiday, Severus didn’t feel quite so alone.

—

The storm outside had settled into a steady patter of sleet against the windows. Inside, the small living room was warm, filled with the soft glow of the fireplace.

Severus hadn’t moved from the couch, and Y/N hadn’t asked him to leave. She wouldn’t.

“You should stay the night,” she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Severus glanced at her, hesitation flickering in his dark eyes. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” she said simply. “Besides, it’s late, and I doubt you want to go back home.”

That, more than anything, seemed to make up his mind. He exhaled, nodding once. “Alright.”

Y/N grinned, pleased. “Good. I’ll grab some blankets.”

By the time she returned, Severus had shed his outer robes, leaving him in just a simple dark sweater and trousers. He looked oddly out of place in her small, Muggle home—like he belonged to a different world entirely.

But he didn’t, not really.

Not with her.

She dropped the blankets onto the couch, plopping down beside him. “You know,” she mused, tucking her legs under herself, “I think the thing I miss most is just—this.”

Severus raised a brow. “Sitting on an old couch?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, talking. Just being here, with you. Like before.”

His expression softened slightly. “It does feel… familiar.”

“Remember when we used to stay up all night in the summer?” she asked, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “You’d tell me about all the things you learned at Hogwarts, and I’d pretend I wasn’t insanely jealous.”

Severus smirked. “You weren’t very convincing.”

“Hey, in my defense, it sounded amazing,” she said. “I mean, moving staircases? Floating candles? A library bigger than this whole neighborhood? How could I not be jealous?”

He hummed in agreement. “It is impressive, I suppose.”

She nudged his knee with hers. “Don’t downplay it, Sev. You love it there.”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—something complicated. He hesitated, then murmured, “Not all of it.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “Because of them?”

He didn’t have to ask who she meant. The Marauders—the group of Gryffindor idiots who had spent years tormenting him.

Severus exhaled sharply. “They don’t make it easy.”

She shifted closer, her knee still resting against his. “I wish I could do something,” she admitted.

“You already do,” he said quietly. “Being here—talking to you—it helps.”

Her heart stuttered at the sincerity in his voice.

They sat there for hours, the conversation slipping between past and present, memories and dreams. They talked about potions, about the books they were reading, about the future—what they wanted, what they feared.

At some point, she stretched out on the couch, resting her head against the armrest. Severus had turned slightly toward her, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch.

The space between them felt smaller than before.

It was dangerous, the way her breath caught when his fingers brushed against hers on the cushion. The way her skin tingled with warmth at the contact.

They had always been close, but this felt different.

The hours slipped away, the conversation slowing into quiet, lingering glances. Neither of them moved. Neither of them pulled away.

Maybe, after all these years, they had finally started to realize what had been there all along.

—

Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only the faint scent of smoke in the air. The storm had passed, and everything outside was still, quiet—except for the soft murmuring of voices from the couch.

Y/N was still curled up, her head resting comfortably in Severus’s lap as he absentmindedly played with the ends of her hair. They had fallen asleep sometime during the night, but neither of them had spoken about it yet. Instead, they had slipped into easy conversation, the way they always did, as if no time had passed at all.

“You’re telling me that Slughorn still drones on about his ‘famous students’ every lesson?” Y/N teased, shifting slightly to look up at Severus.

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. If I have to hear one more story about his connections, I might lose my mind.”

Y/N chuckled, stretching slightly before resting her arm across her stomach. “At least he likes you.”

“He likes talent,” Severus corrected. “And I just happen to be the most competent student in his class.”

“Oh, obviously,” Y/N said, grinning. “No competition at all.”

Severus gave her an unimpressed look, but the ghost of a smile was still on his lips. “None worth mentioning.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“You’re the one who invited me to stay,” he pointed out.

“I was being nice,” she shot back.

He arched a brow. “A poor choice, then?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, then, without warning, reached up and flicked his arm.

Severus recoiled slightly, feigning deep offense. “Did you just flick me?”

“I did,” Y/N said proudly. “What are you going to do about it?”

He said nothing. Instead, his eyes glinted with mischief as he suddenly reached down and pressed his cold fingers against her side, making her squeak in surprise.

“Severus Snape, don’t you dare—”

It was too late. He dug his fingers into her side just enough to make her squirm, a rare smirk pulling at his lips as she let out an indignant yelp.

“You’re—such—a menace,” she gasped between bursts of laughter, trying to swat his hand away.

Severus only smirked wider. “Am I? How tragic.”

“You never—Severus Snape, I swear to—” Y/N grabbed his wrist, trying to push him away, but in doing so, she moved too quickly—

And suddenly, she was much, much closer to him.

Her laughter died in an instant.

Somehow, in the midst of their playful struggle, she had shifted up slightly, her face now only inches from his. His smirk had vanished, his lips parted slightly as he stared down at her.

Neither of them moved.

Everything went silent, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, could see the faint freckles dusting his pale complexion. His dark eyes, always so guarded, had softened in a way she had never quite seen before.

Y/n’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath caught in her throat.

She should move. But she didn’t.

And neither did he.

Severus’s dark eyes flickered down to her lips for the briefest moment—so quick she might have imagined it. But then he leaned in, just slightly, just enough that the space between them all but disappeared.

And before she could think, before she could question it—

His lips brushed against hers

It was hesitant, uncertain, as if he expected her to pull away at any second. But she didn’t.

Instead, she pressed back, her heart hammering in her chest, her hands tightening their grip on the fabric of his sleeve. The kiss was soft, barely more than a whisper of contact, but it sent a rush of warmth through her, curling in her stomach like a secret she had always known but never dared to say aloud.

But then—

Reality hit her like a crashing wave.

She had kissed Severus.

What if he hadn’t wanted that?

Panic surged through her, and she pulled back so quickly that she nearly knocked her head against the armrest of the couch.

“Oh, Merlin—” Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide as she scrambled to sit up. “Severus, I—”

He was staring at her, still slightly frozen in place, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, her voice rising in pitch. “I— I wasn’t thinking, I just—” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”

Severus blinked at her, his lips still parted as if she had knocked the air from his lungs.

“I mean— maybe you didn’t even want that,” she continued, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I just— we were so close and— and then I—”

“Y/N.”

She froze.

His voice was quiet, steady—but there was something different about it.

Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes.

Severus was watching her, his expression softer than she had ever seen it.

“I wanted it,” he murmured.

Y/N felt her stomach drop. “You—”

“I’ve always wanted it.”

Her breath hitched.

Severus swallowed, his hand twitching slightly in his lap. “I—” He hesitated, glancing away for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. “I never thought you’d… feel the same.”

Her heart pounded. “You like me?”

He let out a breathy laugh—half-disbelieving, half-nervous. “Yes, Y/N. I like you.” He looked back at her, something vulnerable in his gaze. “I think I always have.”

Y/N stared at him, her thoughts spinning, her body frozen in place.

Severus Snape—her Severus—liked her.

Had always liked her.

And suddenly, everything made sense. The glances, the quiet moments, the way he always seemed to stay just a little bit longer when they were together.

A slow smile tugged at her lips. “Oh.”

Severus arched a brow. “‘Oh’?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I mean—oh.”

His lips quirked upward, ever so slightly. “Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

Y/N grinned, reaching out to take his hand. “A very good one.”

Severus let himself smile—truly, fully smile.

And this time, when he leaned in again, neither of them pulled away.

[thatfatbitxch]

The muggle wife part 2

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Snapes muggle wife comes to Hogwarts with him again.

Prequel Part one

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the cozy sitting room as you curled up on Severus’s worn yet surprisingly comfortable couch, stretching out after a long shift. Your legs ached, your shoulders were sore, but the warmth of the tea in your hands made it all feel worth it.

Severus sat in his usual armchair across from you, a book open in his lap, though he wasn’t actually reading it—just pretending to while subtly watching you.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, taking a slow sip of tea.

His dark eyes flicked back down to his book. “No, I am not.”

You smirked. “Yes, you are.”

He let out a sigh through his nose but didn’t argue. You knew him too well.

Setting your tea down on the table between you, you stretched, feeling the fatigue of the day settle into your muscles. “I was thinking… I should go back to Hogwarts this week.”

Severus didn’t even look up. “No.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he repeated, flipping a page in his book.

Your lips parted, caught between shock and amusement. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“You do not,” he admitted. “But I am still saying no.”

You sat up, crossing your arms. “And why, exactly, do you think you have a say in this?”

Severus finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Because the last time you stepped foot in my classroom, you caused nothing but disruption.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest in mock offense. “I was adorable and charming, thank you very much.”

“You distracted my students.”

“They liked me.”

“They worshiped you.”

“Well, I am rather wonderful.”

Severus exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this conversation physically pained him. “Y/N…”

You bit back a grin, already sensing victory. “I told them I’d come back.”

“That was a mistake.”

“I don’t want to be a liar.”

“They will live.”

You pouted, leaning forward slightly. “Come on, Severus. You liked when I went with you.”

He scoffed. “Did I?”

You smirked, shifting to your knees and crawling across the couch toward him. “Yes,” you said sweetly, settling at the edge of his chair. “Because you have the world’s biggest soft spot for me, and we both know it.”

Severus closed his book with an exaggerated slowness, setting it aside before looking at you fully.

“You are intolerable,” he muttered.

“And yet, here you are, putting up with me.” You tilted your head, studying the faintest trace of affection in his otherwise sharp features. “Because deep, deep, deep down, you actually like me being around.”

His gaze flickered to your lips, just for a moment.

You caught it.

With a small, knowing smile, you slid your hands onto the arms of his chair, leaning in ever so slightly. “Let me go,” you whispered.

Severus stared at you, his jaw tightening as if fighting some internal war.

And then—just like you knew he would—he exhaled in defeat. “You are insufferable.”

You grinned. “And?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you always get your way.”

Before he could say anything else, you pressed a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. His hand instinctively found your waist, fingers curling just slightly against your hip before you pulled back.

You beamed at him, triumphant.

Severus sighed. “I already regret this.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No. I do not.”

You kissed him again—slow, lingering this time—before hopping up from his chair, practically glowing with satisfaction.

“We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” you declared, stretching your arms above your head.

Severus leaned back in his chair, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“I make no promises,” he murmured.

And for once, you had nothing clever to say.

⸻

The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, the familiar scenery blurring by as the train headed toward the castle. You were already daydreaming about your return to the ancient halls, the familiar sights and sounds that always brought a sense of peace.

When the train finally came to a halt, you practically jumped out of your seat.

“Careful now,” Severus muttered, watching you with a bemused glint in his eye as you grabbed your bag. “No need to rush.”

You shot him a look, but it was softened by a smile. “I’m just excited.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Excited to disrupt my classes again?”

“Oh, please,” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his as the two of you exited the train and headed toward the castle. “I promise I won’t be a distraction this time.”

“Not a chance,” he muttered under his breath.

You caught the tail end of it, but before you could say anything else, Severus was leading you into the castle, guiding you down the familiar hallways until you reached his chambers.

“I’ll leave you here,” Severus said, opening the door. “You can stay here while I attend to my duties. I do not want you in my classes today.”

You cocked your head, grinning. “You’re really worried I’ll be too distracting?”

“I am not worried,” Severus said curtly, though his eyes held a glint of something. “I simply don’t trust you not to cause chaos.”

“Wooow, Severus,” you said dramatically, stepping into the room. “I’m offended.”

He simply stared at you with that all-knowing gaze, one eyebrow raised. “Try not to cause anything. I love you.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you collapsed onto the couch with a sigh. It was still early afternoon, and you had the entire place to yourself, but—honestly—you were already bored.

“Too much free time,” you muttered, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling.

It was quiet. Too quiet. You needed something to do.

After a few minutes of silence, your stomach let out a soft growl.

Snack time.

You pushed yourself up from the couch, grabbing your bag and heading toward the door. “Just a quick snack,” you promised yourself. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

The hallways were mostly empty as you made your way towards what you assumed would be the kitchen but you honestly had no idea where you were going. The school felt peaceful, calm—a far cry from the chaos of students when they were running between classes.

But as you rounded a corner, you froze.

There, standing in the hallway, was none other than the students you had spoke with last time you were here. You had just seen them a few days ago in Severus’s class, and they greeted you warmly as you approached.

“Oh, hey!” Harry said, his eyes lighting up when he recognized you. “You’re Snape’s wife, right?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yep, that’s me. I told you guys I’d come back and say hello.”

“I’m so glad you did!” Hermione said, giving you an enthusiastic wave. “We were hoping we’d see you again.”

Seamus grinned. “It was fun having you there. Don’t tell Snape we said this, but he’s a bit of a hard ass in class.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.”

“You should totally hang out with us,” Ron said, his grin as wide as ever. “We’ve got some time between classes. We can show you around the castle if you want.”

Your stomach growled again, but you figured a quick detour wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright, I’ll join you for a bit,” you said with a shrug. “But only for a little while, then I’ll get back to Severus’s room.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” Hermione said with a knowing smile. “I think he’s used to your little surprises by now.”

The four of them led you through the castle, and you marveled at all the hidden places they showed you. Ron and Seamus were the most energetic, rushing ahead to reveal secret passageways, while Hermione offered detailed explanations about the history of certain rooms and objects. Harry stuck by your side, engaging in light conversation.

“First stop, the Trophy Room!” Ron said dramatically. “It’s not the most exciting, but there’s always something weird in here.”

As you wandered through the castle, Seamus pointed out a painting of a wizard with a giant pumpkin. “We’re not sure if it’s enchanted, but some say it moves when no one’s looking.”

“Really?” you asked, amused.

“Yeah, but try catching it and you might end up hexed,” Hermione added, smiling.

After the Trophy Room, Harry led you to the Room of Requirement. “This place is one of the coolest. It only shows up when you need it.”

“No way,” you said, impressed. “That’s incredible!”

“It’s a bit of a mystery, but it’s always useful when we need something,” Harry explained.

The group made their way to the library, where Hermione couldn’t contain her excitement. “This is my favorite place in Hogwarts! There are books on every subject.”

Seamus chimed in, “Some books even move when you’re not looking!”

You laughed, feeling a growing connection to these students who clearly loved Hogwarts with all their hearts.

Eventually, they led you back toward the dungeons, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for the tour, guys. I had no idea Hogwarts had so many hidden gems.”

“No problem!” Harry grinned. “We’re glad you came back to visit.”

Before you could respond, the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Uh-oh.

You barely had time to turn before Severus appeared at the end of the hallway, his black robes billowing as he strode toward you with an expression that screamed unimpressed husband mode activated.

“Mrs. Snape.”

Your stomach did a tiny flip—not out of fear, but because, despite his irritation, there was something undeniably attractive about him in full professor mode.

The Gryffindors, on the other hand, immediately stiffened.

“Oh… hey, love,” you said sweetly, tilting your head like you weren’t caught red-handed.

Snape’s gaze flicked from you to the four students. “You were meant to be in class five minutes ago.”

Hermione gasped, checking the time. “Oh no, we completely lost track!”

Ron groaned. “Brilliant. Now we’re doomed.”

“Indeed,” Snape drawled. “Ten points from Gryffindor—each.”

“WHAT?!” Seamus yelped. “But we were just—”

Snape’s dark eyes silenced him instantly

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Professor. We got a little carried away showing Y/N around.”

At that, Snape’s already formidable scowl deepened. His gaze snapped back to you. “And you. I told you to stay in my quarters.”

You offered a sheepish smile. “I got bored.”

His jaw clenched. “Bored.”

“And hungry,” you added, as if that made it better.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “So rather than wait like a rational adult, you decided to wander the castle—causing disruptions, I see.”

You bit back a laugh at how dramatic he sounded. “I wasn’t causing disruptions,” you defended, “I was making friends.”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line.

You took a step closer, lowering your voice just enough that the students probably couldn’t hear. “Come on, Severus, don’t be mad.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. He sighed, clearly waging an internal war.

Seizing the moment, you reached up and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips.

Instant regret for the students.

Ron made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. Seamus physically recoiled. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in pain, while Hermione let out a small, horrified squeak.

“OH, COME ON!” Seamus groaned. “Did we have to witness that?!”

“We knew they were married,” Ron muttered, “but seeing it is a whole other thing.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m going to need to bleach my brain.”

Snape exhaled sharply, clearly exasperated but no longer angry. His fingers ghosted over your wrist for just a second before he turned sharply on his heel. “Come along. Now.”

You smirked at the still-stunned students. “Lovely seeing you all. Enjoy class!”

They didn’t respond. They were too busy trying to recover.

⸻

The walk back to Severus’s quarters was silent. Well, mostly silent. You, of course, were still feeling playful despite his grumpy mood.

“You know, you really should be thanking me.”

Severus didn’t even glance at you. “For what, exactly?”

You linked your arm through his, leaning into him slightly. “For ensuring that your students respect your authority. If I hadn’t kissed you, they would’ve kept thinking you’re just some poor, helpless husband, bullied into submission by his charming wife.”

He exhaled through his nose—the closest thing to a laugh you’d get from him while he was still pretending to be mad.

“You are an insufferable woman,” he muttered.

“And you are a dramatic man,” you countered, stopping just outside his door. “Come on, Severus, I was just hungry. You can’t honestly expect me to sit around doing nothing all day.”

“I expected you to follow my instructions,” he corrected, unlocking the door. “A foolish expectation on my part.”

You grinned. “Very foolish.”

The door clicked shut behind you both. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow from the fireplace making the space feel even cozier. You sighed in relief, flopping down onto the sofa.

“So,” you began, “now that you’ve successfully dragged me back, what’s for dinner?”

Severus raised a brow. “Pardon?”

You crossed your arms. “You stormed through half the castle to retrieve me, all while knowing I was starving. Surely, you had a plan for feeding your poor, suffering wife?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, likely questioning every life decision that had led him to this moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he flicked his wand.

A moment later, a plate of warm stew and fresh bread appeared on the small table in front of you.

Your eyes lit up. “Oh, Severus, you do love me!”

He rolled his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Eat before I change my mind and vanish it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You pulled the plate into your lap and took a bite, practically melting at the taste. “Merlin, this is good.”

Severus sat beside you, watching with an unreadable expression. “One might think you hadn’t eaten in days.”

“One might be right,” you mumbled through another mouthful.

Severus shook his head but said nothing. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, resting his arm along the back, his fingers barely grazing your shoulder.

You looked up at him between bites. “So, are you still mad at me?”

He exhaled slowly. “I was never truly mad, merely… irritated.”

You smirked. “Mmm. And how long does irritation usually last?”

His dark eyes flickered with something fond, something familiar. He tilted his head slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek.

“Less time than it used to.”

Your heart warmed at that. Setting your plate down, you shifted closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

““Good,” you murmured, “because I fully intend on distracting you again.”

Severus sighed in that long-suffering way of his but didn’t move away. Instead, his fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

You tilted your head up, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the corner of his mouth. He stilled for only a second before turning fully toward you, his dark gaze heavy.

“You,” he murmured, voice lower now, “are truly impossible.”

You smirked. “And yet, here you are—completely unable to resist me.”

His lips crashed against yours, his hand curling around the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. The firelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the room, the warmth of it nothing compared to the heat pooling between you both.

You barely noticed when he flicked his wand again, vanishing the forgotten plate of food from the table.

Dinner could wait.

[thatfatbitxch]

Paws and Moonlight

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: Remus and Y/N have been dating for a few months, and for the first time, he’s coming to her place. But there’s one small complication—her dog.

Note: Honestly, it’s just pure fluff—Remus is too cute, and I have no self-control

Masterlist

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

It was a crisp Saturday afternoon, the kind where the chill in the air was balanced by the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the streets. The bustling city around them was a contrast to the quiet, solitary nature of Remus Lupin’s usual world, but today, he welcomed it. He had traveled to the city for one simple reason: to see Y/N.

They had been dating for a few months now, and each moment spent with her seemed to deepen the connection they had. The way she laughed at his silly jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about things she was passionate about—everything about her made him feel more alive than he had in years. Yet today was something different. It was the first time he would visit her place, and there was a nervous flutter in his stomach as he approached the little restaurant she had suggested.

Remus adjusted his scarf, hands a little colder than usual, and checked his watch—just a few more minutes. He stood outside, gazing around, a small smile tugging at his lips as he spotted Y/N. She was standing near the entrance of the restaurant, looking effortlessly radiant. Her soft green sweater hugged her figure just right, and her hair, tucked behind her ears, framed her face perfectly. Remus’s heart gave an extra beat, his nerves slowly melting away at the sight of her.

“Hi!” Y/N greeted, her face lighting up when she saw him. She stepped forward, a bright smile on her lips, and Remus felt his heart flutter at how natural it felt to be around her.

“Hey, honey,” Remus replied, his voice warm with affection as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. The endearment slipped out without a second thought, and it made his cheeks blush just a little.

Y/N chuckled softly, her own cheeks tinged pink. “Hey, Rem. You look good as always.”

“Always?” Remus grinned, leaning in a bit closer. “I must be doing something right then.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe. Or maybe you just know how to charm a girl.”

“Well, I do try.” He smirked, straightening his scarf as they walked into the restaurant together.

The inside of the restaurant was cozy, a perfect balance of warmth and charm. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, making Remus’s stomach growl softly. They sat down by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a soft glow around them.

As they perused the menu, the conversation flowed easily between them. Remus had always been comfortable with Y/N, but today, there was something about the way she looked at him, the way she smiled, that made him feel even more at ease.

“So, how’s everything been at Hogwarts?” Y/N asked, her voice curious as she sipped her water.

“Busy, as usual,” Remus said with a half-smile. “There’s always something happening there—students to teach, trouble to sort out. But it’s rewarding. I enjoy it, despite the chaos.”

“I can’t imagine working with students all the time,” Y/N mused. “They must keep you on your toes.”

“They do, definitely. Especially with a certain group of students. But it’s worth it when you see them grow.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes softening as she watched him speak. “You’re really good with them, Remus. I can tell.”

He blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by her sincerity. “Thank you, hon. That means a lot.”

There was a slight pause as they both smiled at each other, the weight of unspoken affection filling the space between them. Remus felt his pulse quicken, but he didn’t break eye contact. He liked this—liked the way she made him feel grounded, like he didn’t have to hide any part of himself.

“So, how’s life outside the wizarding world treating you?” Remus asked, shifting the conversation to something lighter.

Y/N’s face brightened, a twinkle of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Busy, but it’s good. I work with a lot of Muggles, so it’s always a bit of an adjustment. But I like the challenge. Keeps me on my toes, just like you.”

Remus laughed softly, the sound deep and genuine. “I’ll admit, it sounds like quite the adventure. How do you manage? I’m sure it’s different than anything I could imagine.”

“I make it work,” Y/N replied with a shrug, but there was a small, proud smile on her face. “I like that it keeps things interesting. No two days are ever the same.”

They chatted for a while longer, exchanging stories about work, life, and the small things that made each day unique. As their food arrived—freshly grilled chicken for Remus, a hearty vegetable stew for Y/N—they settled into an easy rhythm, both of them enjoying the simplicity of being in each other’s company.

“You know,” Y/N said after a few bites, her voice playful, “I was thinking that maybe we should go to my place after lunch.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Your place?”

“Yeah. You’ve never seen where I live, and I thought it might be nice.” Y/N gave him a mischievous grin. “Plus, I think you’ll like it. I have a dog.”

Remus blinked, a little surprised. “A dog?”

Y/N nodded. “Yep. His name’s Toby. He’s a bit of a character, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

Remus hesitated for a moment, a nervous flutter in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting her dog. He liked animals, sure, but he wasn’t used to the idea of a dog, especially when he wasn’t entirely sure how it would react to him. Would it like him? Or would it sense something about him that made it uneasy?

But then Y/N reached across the table, her hand gently touching his. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice soothing. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

He met her gaze, her warmth and reassurance easing his nerves. “Okay,” he said with a smile. “I trust you, Lead the way.”

They finished their meal, and soon, they were walking out into the cool afternoon, hand in hand. Remus felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Meeting a dog wasn’t exactly the most nerve-wracking thing he’d ever done, but the idea of stepping into her world—seeing where she lived, where she spent her time—felt like a big step. It was like getting a glimpse into a part of her life that was separate from the wizarding world, and it made him feel both nervous and honored.

As they reached her flat, Y/N’s keys jingled as she unlocked the door. She opened it with a smile, gesturing for him to enter.

“You’re about to meet Toby,” she said, her tone teasing. “Let’s see how he likes you.”

Remus hesitated for a moment at the threshold, his nerves kicking in again. But then, Y/N’s voice softened. “It’s okay, Rem. Just be yourself.”

With a deep breath, he stepped inside.

Remus couldn’t help but feel a little out of his element. It wasn’t just the apartment that was new to him, or the small, cozy space that felt like a slice of normalcy. It was the fact that he was about to meet Y/N’s dog, Toby. And that, in itself, made him nervous in ways he hadn’t fully anticipated.

He had spent most of his life keeping his werewolf identity hidden, careful about who he trusted with such a personal part of himself. Y/N knew—she had learned the truth a few weeks into their relationship, and he had been amazed by her understanding and acceptance. But now, with her dog in the picture, there was a whole new layer of uncertainty. He was never sure how animals might react to him. Toby could sense things, just like Y/N, and the last thing Remus wanted was for the dog to pick up on his inner turmoil.

“Don’t worry,” Y/N said, glancing over at him as they walked down the hallway to the living room. “Toby’s a bit of a drama king, but he’s a big softie underneath it all.”

“I’m sure,” Remus replied, trying to mask the nervousness creeping into his voice. He smiled at Y/N, but it was tight, unsure. He was trying to hide how the anticipation was making his palms sweat.

As they entered the living room, Y/N called softly, “Toby, come here, boy.”

A large golden retriever raised his head from the couch, blinking sleepily before his ears perked up. His eyes flicked between Remus and Y/N, narrowing just slightly, and he lifted his body, as if assessing the new presence in the room. His tail swished lazily, but his posture was still wary, and for a moment, Remus froze, his breath caught in his throat.

“Toby, don’t be rude,” Y/N chided softly, but Remus could see the slight tension in her own face as she knelt down. She wasn’t sure how the dog would react either. She had told him she was nervous about this exact moment—how animals, especially dogs, could sometimes sense something different about him.

Toby took a slow, careful step forward, sniffing the air with curiosity. Remus instinctively held his breath, worried that Toby’s scent would tell him something he didn’t want the dog to know.

Y/N smiled, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. “It’s okay, Rem. He just needs a moment to get used to you. He’s protective, but he’ll warm up.”

“I hope so,” Remus muttered under his breath. He couldn’t help but feel that strange sense of unease. He wasn’t used to being around animals—especially not in such a personal space. And the fact that Toby seemed so intent on getting a read on him only heightened his discomfort.

Remus bent down slightly, offering his hand cautiously to the dog. Toby sniffed his fingers before pulling back slightly, not quite trusting him yet. There was a deep, almost primal wariness in the dog’s movements, and Remus couldn’t help but notice how Toby’s body stiffened as though he could sense something deeper.

Y/N glanced at him, her gaze soft but tinged with concern. “He’s just… not used to strangers, especially after I’ve had a few bad experiences with people before. And, well…” She hesitated for a moment, before letting out a quiet sigh. “I just hope he’s okay with you being here.”

“I understand.” Remus glanced at her, his expression softening. “I’m just nervous he’ll… sense something.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, brushing her hand through her hair. “You mean your, well - your lycanthropy?” She looked at him knowingly, and there was no judgment, just understanding. “I know, Rem. I really do. But don’t worry—Toby won’t care. He’s just… cautious. It had nothing to do with that.”

Still, Remus couldn’t shake the feeling of being under scrutiny. Toby was staring at him now, his eyes steady, unreadable, and it almost felt like the dog was seeing something he was trying to keep hidden, as if his very being was something tobyy could somehow sense.

Toby let out a low growl—a small sound, not particularly threatening, but enough to make Remus stiffen.

Y/N stood up, her smile faltering for a moment. She reached over to Toby, her fingers gently brushing over his fur. “Toby, no growling. Be nice,” she murmured.

The dog reluctantly quieted but stayed in place, still staring at Remus with a gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. Remus stood awkwardly, unsure whether to back away or keep trying.

He looked over at Y/N, and she gave him an apologetic smile. “He’s just… protective, Rem. It’s not you. He just… well, he’s sensitive to new people. Especially men.”

“I understand,” Remus said again, though his voice was slightly strained. He forced himself to relax, but it was hard. He didn’t want to seem like he was overreacting, but the growing tension in the room was starting to get to him.

For a long moment, Toby just stared at him, his tail rigid. But eventually, with a heavy sigh, the dog took a few tentative steps backward, glancing up at Y/N before lowering his body onto the floor, still watching Remus from under half-lidded eyes.

“Good boy,” Y/N said softly, and Remus couldn’t help but feel a small amount of relief wash over him.

Y/N turned back to Remus, her eyes filled with concern but also reassurance. “See? I told you he’d come around. It just takes a little time.”

Remus sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… I’ve never been around dogs like this. And you know what’s going on with me, so I’m not sure how he’s going to react.”

Y/N smiled gently, walking over to him. She placed her hand on his arm, her touch warm and comforting. “I know, honey. I know. And I promise you, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s just… a little protective. It’s his job to keep me safe. He’ll get used to you, I’m sure of it.”

Remus looked down at her, meeting her gaze. His heart thudded in his chest, but her words settled the nerves that had been gnawing at him since they walked through the door. It wasn’t just Toby he had to convince. It was himself, too.

“I guess I’ll have to prove myself,” Remus said with a small grin. “But, uh… I’m happy to try.”

Y/N chuckled, her eyes soft. “You’ll win him over. You just need to show him you’re a good guy, Rem. Like I know you are.”

Remus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I hope so, honey. I really do.”

He’d faced full moons, fought against Death Eaters, and stood in front of classrooms full of skeptical students—but here he was, standing in Y/N’s cozy living room, feeling completely at the mercy of a golden retriever who clearly wasn’t sure what to make of him.

Toby had stopped growling, but he was still watching Remus with a keen, assessing gaze, his body positioned just close enough to Y/N to be protective but not outright aggressive. Remus swallowed, shifting his weight.

“I think he’s decided to tolerate me,” he murmured, shooting Y/N a half-smile.

She grinned, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “That’s a good sign! I think you might just pass his test.”

Remus chuckled, glancing down at their interlocked fingers. He liked the way her smaller hand fit in his, the way her thumb absentmindedly traced circles against his skin. It was grounding, a reminder that this was something normal. Something good.

“Should I offer him a treat?” Remus asked hesitantly. “Or is that bribery?”

Y/N laughed. “Bribery is completely acceptable in this household.” She flicked her wand, and a small tin floated from a shelf, settling onto the coffee table. The lid popped off with a little click, revealing an assortment of homemade dog treats.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Did you just—did you enchant a biscuit tin?”

“Obviously,” Y/N said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m not going to get up every time Toby wants a treat. That would be ridiculous.”

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle. He loved this about her—the way she seamlessly blended magic into her daily life in the most effortless ways.

She plucked a biscuit from the tin and handed it to him. “Here. If he takes it from you, it means he officially likes you.”

Remus took the biscuit, crouching slightly as he extended it toward Toby. The dog sniffed it cautiously, his ears flicking forward. For a moment, Remus thought he might reject it outright, but after a few seconds of tense silence, Toby huffed—then leaned forward and took the treat from his palm.

Y/N beamed. “Success!”

Remus let out a breath, watching as Toby retreated to his dog bed with the treat, chewing happily. “I feel like I just passed some kind of test.”

“Oh, you did,” Y/N said, grinning. “The Toby Test is a very prestigious one. Not many men have passed.”

Remus gave her a knowing look. “So I am special, then?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “Of course you are babe. You were special long before Toby gave you his grudging approval.”

He felt his heart stutter at the way she said babe. It was still new, the way they had started slipping affectionate names into their conversations, but he loved it.

As if sensing the shift in the air, Toby finished his treat and promptly trotted over, plopping himself down beside Y/N with a huff. He didn’t rest against Remus, but he was close enough that it felt like a step in the right direction.

“Well, I suppose that means I can stay,” Remus said lightly.

“I’d hope so,” Y/N teased. “Otherwise, I’d have to duel Toby for your honor.”

“Mm, I’d pay to see that,” Remus mused. “Though, I suspect he’d win.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Y/N said. “He’s a menace when he wants to be. Once, he stole my wand and refused to give it back. I had to Accio it out of his mouth.”

Remus snorted. “That’s the most chaotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I live a thrilling life,” she said dramatically, leaning into him just slightly. He caught the faint scent of her shampoo—something soft and floral, utterly her.

He tilted his head to look at her, his voice softer now. “I like it.”

She smiled, her fingers brushing against his on the couch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

They sat like that for a moment, comfortable in the quiet, the warmth of her home wrapping around him like a spell.

Then, Y/N perked up. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She waved her wand, and two mugs floated in from the kitchen, steam curling in the air. They landed neatly on the coffee table.

Remus reached for his, inhaling the rich, spiced scent. “You made butterbeer?”

“Well, I figured if I was inviting my handsome wizard boyfriend over for the first time, I should do it properly,” she said with a wink.

Remus felt warmth bloom in his chest. “Handsome, am I?”

“Oh, terribly,” she said, taking a sip from her own mug. “Devastatingly handsome. It’s a real problem.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip. It was perfect—rich, creamy, with just the right amount of warmth that spread through his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he said, setting his mug down to reach for her hand again.

She grinned. “I know.”

Toby let out a long sigh, settling at their feet as if finally accepting Remus’s presence.

And for the first time that evening, Remus let himself relax.

Maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where he was meant to be.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and a faint trace of chimney smoke from nearby houses. The city was quieter now, with only the occasional sound of footsteps on cobblestone and the distant hum of traffic.

Toby trotted ahead, his golden fur catching the glow of the streetlamps as he sniffed curiously at every lamppost and tree they passed. Remus walked beside Y/N, their hands brushing occasionally, though neither of them made a move to close the gap.

Y/N let out a contented sigh, tucking her hands into her coat pockets. “I love this time of year.”

Remus smiled. “I can see why. It suits you—crisp air, warm drinks, leaves changing colors. You’re very…autumnal.”

Y/N laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “Is that your way of saying I belong in a pumpkin patch?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. More like you make everything feel warm, even when it’s cold outside.”

Y/N turned to look at him, her expression softening. “That was very smooth, Rem.”

“I do try,” he said, giving her a small, playful smirk.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the distant chatter of people from nearby cafés and the soft jingle of Toby’s collar. Eventually, Y/N spoke again.

“I’m really glad you came today,” she said quietly.

Remus glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “I know you were nervous about Toby. And I get it. But…it means a lot that you still wanted to come.”

He exhaled slowly, watching his breath form a small cloud in the air. “I was nervous,” he admitted. “Not just about him, but…about this. Us.”

Y/N slowed her pace, looking at him with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have this…life. Your job, your friends, your magic woven into every little thing. And it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. But sometimes, I can’t help wondering if I—if what I am—will ever fit into it the way I want to.”

Y/N frowned, stopping in the middle of the path. Toby, sensing the pause, sat at her feet and looked up at them.

“Remus,” she said firmly, reaching for his hand. “You already do. I wouldn’t have let you into my life if I didn’t think you belonged in it.”

He swallowed, feeling the warmth of her fingers against his. “I suppose I just don’t want to ruin something good.”

She squeezed his hand. “Then don’t. Stay. Be part of it. I want you here.”

Remus searched her face, seeing nothing but honesty in her eyes. He felt the tight knot in his chest loosen just a little.

Before he could respond, a droplet of water landed on his nose.

Then another.

Within seconds, a light drizzle turned into a steady downpour, the rain coming down in shimmering sheets under the glow of the streetlamps.

Y/N yelped, laughing as she instinctively lifted her wand. With a flick, a shimmering, umbrella-like dome formed above them, the raindrops bouncing off the invisible barrier.

Remus grinned, pulling out his own wand and adding a second layer to their magical umbrella, making the charm stronger.

Y/N looked up at him, smiling. “Look at us, proper wizards and everything.”

Remus chuckled, tucking his wand away. “It does feel a bit like something out of a storybook, doesn’t it?”

She hummed in agreement, watching the rain fall just inches away from them, keeping them perfectly dry. Toby, however, was less impressed—he shook himself, sending droplets flying everywhere.

Y/N groaned. “Toby, come on, I just dried my coat.”

Remus laughed, reaching down to scratch the dog’s ears. “I think he enjoys the rain more than we do.”

“I think he just enjoys making a mess,” Y/N grumbled, though there was fondness in her voice.

They started walking again, still sheltered under the dome of their magic. Remus could feel the warmth of her beside him, the rhythmic patter of the rain blending with the steady sound of their footsteps.

It was simple. Quiet. Perfect.

After a while, Y/N broke the silence. “You’re staying the night, right?”

Remus blinked, glancing at her. “I—if you want me to.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I’d hate for you to Apparate back in the rain after such a magical evening.”

He chuckled. “Very thoughtful of you.”

She bumped her shoulder against his again. “Come on, let’s get home before Toby decides to roll in a puddle.”

Remus let himself be pulled along, feeling, for the first time in a long while, like he had truly found a place where he belonged.

And as the rain continued to fall around them, he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was exactly where he was meant to be.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time they got back to Y/N’s flat. It had only grown heavier, drumming against the windows in a steady rhythm, filling the space with a comforting sort of white noise.

Somewhere in the living room, Toby was curled up in his bed, sound asleep after the long walk. The flat was quiet aside from the occasional creak of the floorboards and the soft, contented sighs coming from the two figures tangled up in the warmth of Y/N’s bed.

Remus lay on his back, one arm curled around Y/N’s bare shoulders as she rested against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his stomach. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the golden glow of a single enchanted candle that flickered gently on the nightstand.

Y/N sighed, shifting slightly so she could press a kiss to his collarbone. “Mmm. You’re warm.”

Remus let out a soft chuckle, tightening his hold on her. “I suppose that’s one benefit of being me.”

She hummed in agreement, draping a leg over his as she pressed herself closer, her cheek resting against his chest. He could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath, the way her body fit so perfectly against his. It was new, all of it—their closeness, their comfort with each other—but it felt like something he had been missing all his life.

They lay there in the silence for a while, wrapped up in the warmth of each other and the lingering softness of the night.

Then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“I love you.”

Y/N’s fingers stilled against his skin.

Remus froze. His heart lurched as he realized what he’d just said—what he hadn’t meant to say yet.

He felt her shift, her head lifting slightly so she could look at him. Her eyes searched his, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thought he had ruined everything.

Then, she smiled. A soft, glowing kind of smile.

“You do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Remus swallowed, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He had two options—he could backtrack, brush it off as a slip of the tongue, pretend it didn’t mean anything.

Or he could be honest.

So he took a breath, let himself fall.

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, but steady. “I love you, Y/N.”

Her eyes softened, and before he could say anything else, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was gentle, but deep, filled with all the words she didn’t need to say.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I love you, too.”

Something in his chest loosened at her words, and he let out a quiet laugh, brushing his fingers along her cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Terribly, actually. It’s quite inconvenient.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to kiss her properly this time, slow and sweet.

They fell back into the sheets, wrapped up in each other, in whispered laughter and soft touches, in the quiet certainty that neither of them had anything to be afraid of anymore.

And outside, the rain kept falling, as if the world itself was sighing in contentment.

[thatfatbitxch]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Snape x reader where they are secretly dating and they go on a date having a fire in the woods?

A Date by the Fire

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Note: This is such a cute request! I hope you like.

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

You sat at the edge of Severus’s worn, dark green armchair, watching him intently. He, as usual, was at his desk, hunched over a stack of essays, his quill scratching away with meticulous precision.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. Nothing. Not even a glance.

Another sigh, this time louder.

Severus let out a slow exhale through his nose but didn’t look up.

You narrowed your eyes. “You do realize it’s been forever since we’ve anything romantic, right?”

That got his attention. He set his quill down, lacing his fingers together as he finally regarded you with his usual unreadable expression. “…What?”

“You heard me,” you said, folding your arms. “We never go on dates. We never do anything cute. No one in this entire castle would ever suspect that you and I are together because we don’t do anything.”

His brow furrowed. “We are together. Why does it matter what other people suspect?”

“That’s not the point,” you huffed. “I don’t need some grand public declaration, but would it kill you to do something romantic? Take me somewhere, surprise me, try something new?”

Severus exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And what, precisely, would you consider romantic?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, throwing your hands in the air. “A picnic, stargazing, something with candles—literally anything besides sitting in your chambers while you mark third-year essays.”

His dark eyes flicked to the parchment in front of him, and he sighed. “Very well,” he muttered. “I will… consider it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You say that, but will you actually do it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, the closest thing to admitting defeat that he was willing to show. “I will come up with something,” he muttered.

You didn’t quite believe him, but at least you’d planted the seed.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Severus regretted his decision almost immediately.

He had no idea what people did on dates. His understanding of romance was entirely theoretical, and while he had no doubt that you would find something simple meaningful, he did not want to make a fool of himself in the process.

Which is what brought him to the absolutely idiotic decision to ask his students.

It had started as an offhanded thought, but when his seventh-year class lingered after a lesson, he found himself, against his better judgment, clearing his throat and speaking.

“Out of curiosity,” he said, tone as neutral as he could manage, “what would one consider a suitable location for… a date?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Three students had been halfway to the door and froze. One girl dropped her quill. A Slytherin boy sitting in the front row blinked at him, eyes wide in shock.

No one spoke.

“…What?” said a Ravenclaw girl near the back.

Severus resisted the urge to sigh. “I believe my question was clear.”

“Are—are you serious?” stammered a Gryffindor boy.

“Do I appear to be joking?”

The students exchanged bewildered glances.

“Uh—” one of the students hesitated. “Are you… asking for yourself?”

Severus’ expression darkened. “That is irrelevant.”

A Gryffindor girl coughed into her fist. “Well… I suppose it depends on the person. Some people like going out to dinner, others like stargazing, or—”

“Going to Hogsmeade?” one student suggested weakly.

“Taking a walk somewhere romantic?” another added.

“Bonfires can be fun,” the Ravenclaw girl said quickly, as if trying to hurry the conversation along. “You know, somewhere private—just the two of you, maybe in the woods. Warm, cozy, good atmosphere…”

Severus gave her a sharp look. “A fire… in the woods?”

“Yeah,” she said, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “Just a small one, of course. It’s quiet, intimate. No distractions.”

Severus considered this. A fire. In the woods. Simple, quiet, private. He could manage that.

The students, meanwhile, were still frozen in a mix of disbelief and fascination.

“Professor,” the Slytherin boy finally asked, “…Are you dating someone?”

“That,” Severus said curtly, gathering his papers, “is none of your concern.”

He swept out of the room before they could ask anything else, leaving them in stunned, confused silence.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Later that evening, you were once again in Severus’ chambers, flipping through a book on his couch while he stood near his desk, appearing deep in thought.

“You’ve been quiet,” you observed, raising an eyebrow. “Plotting something?”

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “I have decided on something.”

“Oh?” You perked up, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“I will be taking you… on a date,” he said, the word foreign on his tongue. “Tomorrow evening.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You hadn’t actually expected him to act so quickly. “Really?”

He gave a small nod. “Yes. You asked for romance. I believe I have found an appropriate option.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “And what exactly are we doing?”

“You will find out soon enough,” he said smoothly. “Wear something warm.”

You studied him for a long moment, the smallest flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Severus, did you actually put effort into this?”

His lip twitched. “Do not test my patience.”

You grinned. “Alright, alright. I won’t push my luck. But I am looking forward to this.”

Severus merely hummed, watching you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

For once, he had done something right. And tomorrow, he would prove it.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The woods beyond Hogwarts were quiet at night, save for the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. The air was crisp but not uncomfortably cold, and above, the sky stretched dark and endless, speckled with stars. It was the perfect setting—secluded, peaceful, and, most importantly, romantic.

And you knew damn well Severus had not come up with it on his own.

Still, you weren’t about to complain. The fact that he had taken any initiative was a miracle in itself. So, as you sat cross-legged on a soft plaid blanket, watching the firelight flicker against his sharp features, you couldn’t help but smile.

The fire crackled softly, its golden glow casting flickering shadows against the surrounding trees. The woods were quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind through the branches. The air was crisp but pleasant, and for once, Severus didn’t seem entirely out of his element.

You sat cross-legged on a soft blanket, your hands stretched toward the warmth of the fire. Across from you, Severus was seated with his usual composed posture, his dark cloak wrapped around him, making him look even more like a shadow among the trees. His face was unreadable, but the fact that he had brought you out here at all was proof enough of his effort.

“This is nice,” you said, smiling as you glanced at him.

Severus gave a slow nod. “I suppose it is.”

“You suppose?” you teased, nudging his knee with yours. “Come on, admit it. This was a good idea.”

His lips twitched, but he did not dignify you with a response.

Instead, he watched with mild suspicion as you pulled a small paper bag from your satchel and began rummaging through it. His brow furrowed when you withdrew a package of graham crackers, a bar of chocolate, and a bag of marshmallows.

“…What is that?” he asked warily.

You grinned. “S’mores.”

Severus blinked, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” you explained, already unwrapping the chocolate. “You roast the marshmallow, then sandwich it between chocolate and graham crackers. It’s sweet, sticky, and ridiculously messy, so you’ll probably hate it.”

Severus exhaled through his nose, watching as you skewered a marshmallow onto a thin stick. “And yet you fully intend to make me partake in this… experience.”

“Obviously.” You shot him a cheeky grin. “I went through the trouble of sneaking all of this out here. The least you can do is humor me.”

He gave you a long, exasperated look before reluctantly taking the stick you held out to him. “This is utterly ridiculous.”

“You say that now,” you mused, turning your marshmallow slowly over the flames. “But just wait until you taste it.”

Severus followed your lead, albeit with far more caution, holding his marshmallow at a calculated distance from the fire. He watched with sharp focus as the edges began to brown, turning a perfect golden hue.

Meanwhile, yours had already caught fire.

“Shit—!” You yelped, waving the stick wildly in an attempt to put out the flames.

Severus huffed out what might have been a laugh as he watched you frantically blow on your charred marshmallow. “Your technique is abysmal.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, carefully sliding the burnt marshmallow onto a piece of chocolate and sandwiching it between two graham crackers. “It still tastes good.”

He eyed the sticky, melted mess with mild skepticism. “Highly debatable.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out the assembled s’more. “Here. Try it.”

Severus hesitated but, after a moment, accepted it with the air of a man bracing for disaster. He took a small, careful bite, chewing slowly as if analyzing the flavors.

You watched expectantly. “…Well?”

He swallowed, dabbing a stray bit of chocolate from his lip with a handkerchief he had apparently produced from thin air.

“…It is tolerable.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Tolerable? That’s all?”

Severus lifted a single brow. “It is excessively sweet.”

“That’s the point,” you laughed. “It’s supposed to be indulgent and fun.”

He regarded the half-eaten s’more in his hand before sighing and taking another bite. “I fail to see the necessity of combining this many ingredients.”

“You mean flavor?” you teased.

He shot you a dry look. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet you love me,” you said sweetly, nudging him with your shoulder.

Severus said nothing, but the faintest smirk played at the corner of his lips as he took another bite of his s’more.

The fire crackled, the stars above shimmered, and in that quiet, intimate moment, you knew—despite all his grumbling—that Severus had, in his own way, enjoyed this ridiculous little date.

And that was more than enough.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, the warmth still lingering in the crisp night air. You sighed contentedly, stretching your legs out as you leaned back on your hands, stealing a glance at Severus. He was watching the fire, his sharp features softened by the dim glow.

“This was nice,” you murmured.

He hummed in agreement. “Surprisingly tolerable.”

You grinned. “I knew you’d like it.”

He turned to you, arching a brow. “I would not go that far.”

“Yet you ate two s’mores,” you teased.

Severus huffed, shaking his head as he stood, brushing off his robes. “Come. We should return before—”

A noise.

A rustling in the trees.

You both froze.

Severus’ hand instinctively moved toward his wand, his entire posture going rigid as he turned sharply toward the sound. You held your breath, heart pounding, as voices—student voices—drifted through the trees.

You barely had time to react before the figures emerged into the clearing.

Three students—seventh years—stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide with shock.

“Professor Snape?” one of them blurted out, as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

Severus’ expression remained carefully blank, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Mr. Whitmore,” he said smoothly, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Miss Patel. Mr. Wright.”

The students exchanged uncertain glances. Their eyes flickered between the dying fire, the half-eaten s’mores on a napkin, and, of course, you.

You kept your face neutral, resisting the urge to shift closer to Severus. They didn’t know anything. Not yet.

“…Are you camping?” Patel asked hesitantly.

You had to bite back a laugh. Camping. Yes, that was exactly what the ever-dignified Severus Snape did in his free time.

Severus, to his credit, remained composed. “No,” he said flatly. “I was merely ensuring that no students were out breaking curfew.”

Patel’s brow furrowed. “We’re not breaking curfew—”

“You are wandering the grounds past hours,” Severus cut in smoothly, his voice laced with the kind of authority that made students shrink in their robes. “Which is suspicious at best.”

Wright’s eyes flickered toward you again. “And… Professor Y/L/N?”

You opened your mouth, grasping for an excuse, when Severus—of all people—saved you.

“Professor Y/L/N had similar concerns,” he said crisply. “Given the recent rule-breaking around the castle, it was wise to have more than one set of eyes ensuring student safety. However—” He narrowed his eyes. “I would ask why you are here, loitering in the woods at this hour.”

The students hesitated.

“…We were just taking a walk,” Whitmore mumbled.

Severus let out a slow, unimpressed breath. “A walk.”

Patel quickly nodded. “Yes, sir. Nothing more.”

He stared them down for a long, agonizing moment before flicking his wand toward the fire, extinguishing the embers instantly. The students flinched.

“Then I suggest you walk yourselves back to the castle,” he said icily. “Before I begin assigning detentions.”

That did it. The three scrambled back into the trees, muttering hasty goodnights before disappearing into the darkness.

You waited until their footsteps faded before exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Well,” you murmured, glancing at Severus. “That was close.”

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Too close.”

You bit your lip, considering. “I don’t think they suspect anything.”

His jaw tightened. “For their sake, I hope not.”

You rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a laugh.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

As you both made your way back toward the castle, the night air crisp and quiet around you, one question lingered in your mind, itching to be asked. You glanced up at Severus, watching his usually unruffled composure.

“So, Severus…” you started casually, keeping your tone light. “How exactly did you come up with the idea for a fire in the woods? Was that your idea, or…?”

Severus glanced at you, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, he didn’t answer, the muscles in his jaw tightening as though debating how much to reveal.

Finally, he sighed, his voice barely above a murmur. “It was a suggestion.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A suggestion? From who?”

He hesitated just long enough to make you realize this was something he didn’t want to share. “Students,” he muttered, almost sounding embarrassed.

Your lips curled into an amused smile. “You asked your students for date ideas?”

Severus shot you a look that was equal parts irritation and disbelief. “I was gathering suggestions, not… asking for them.”

You laughed, the sound light and teasing as you bumped your shoulder against his. “That’s adorable. I can just picture it—‘Hey, any ideas for an intimate date for me and my secret girlfriend?’”

Severus made a disgruntled noise but didn’t bother to respond, clearly wishing he could sink into the floor.

You grinned. “Well, whatever it was, it worked. I’m glad you listened to your students’ advice.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile but didn’t argue. “Let’s just get back to the castle, Y/N.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The rest of the walk back to the castle was unusually silent. You glanced at Severus every so often, noting the stiff way he carried himself, you knew exactly why he was upset.

You rolled your eyes. “Severus, we’re fine. No one saw anything. No one knows anything.”

He said nothing, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

You huffed, brushing some hair from your face. “Look, I get it. You’re careful. You’re private. You think no one can know. But I don’t really care

That got his attention. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to you with a look so sharp it almost made you step back. “You don’t care?”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “Not really. If people find out, they find out. Let them.”

His eyes narrowed like you had just suggested something absolutely ridiculous. “You don’t care about the consequences?”

You crossed your arms, biting back a smirk. “Severus, what’s the worst that could happen? People find out we’re together? Oh no, whatever shall we do?” You gasped dramatically.

He did not look amused. “It is not a joke, Y/N.”

“To you it’s not. To me, it’s hilarious that you think we’re some sort of forbidden romance.”

“We are a forbidden romance,” he muttered.

You snorted. “Oh, please. It’s not like you’re my professor or I’m some reckless student sneaking around behind the clock tower.”

Severus exhaled through his nose, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You are infuriating.”

“I know,” you said cheerfully.

He resumed walking, and you easily caught up, slipping your arm through his despite his continued grumbling.

“For the record,” you added, tilting your head at him, “I don’t plan on shouting it from the rooftops. But I’m also not going to act like I don’t know you when we’re around other people. If someone figures it out, I’m not going to hide under a desk.”

Severus made a noise of clear disapproval. “You should hide under a desk. You should deny everything.”

You laughed, tightening your hold on his arm. “You’re the one who asked your students for date ideas, Severus. Pretty sure you blew your own cover there.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew I should have gone with the library.”

You gasped. “Wait, that was an option? You had a list?”

“Go inside,” he muttered, ushering you toward the entrance of the castle.

You cackled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before darting away into the corridor. “I knew it!”

Severus sighed heavily, rubbing his temple as he followed you inside. Perhaps, he thought, dating you was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

But as you turned back to flash him a mischievous grin, something warm stirred in his chest.

Trouble, maybe. But trouble worth having.

[thatfatbitxch]

A Ray of Sunshine

Pairing: Remus Lupin x prof!reader

Summary: Remus Lupin finds himself drawn to you, a bright and outgoing professor who refuses to let him hide in the shadows.

Masterlist

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Remus Lupin had always been comfortable in the shadows. He was a quiet observer, blending into the background of Hogwarts with his worn robes and gentle presence. He didn’t mind it, really. It was easier to remain unnoticed. But then, you arrived, and being unnoticed became impossible.

You were a whirlwind of sunshine, an explosion of color and laughter that brightened even the coldest corners of the castle. Your robes were never dull—today, they were a brilliant shade of yellow, yesterday a soft lavender. The staff table at meals felt livelier when you were there, always chatting, always smiling. You had an energy about you that reminded him of springtime, warm and full of life.

And you were beautiful.

Remus had noticed it the moment he met you. It wasn’t just your appearance—though he certainly wasn’t blind to that—it was the way you were. The way you carried yourself, the way you made everyone feel as if they belonged, the way you spoke with such enthusiasm that even the most mundane topics became interesting.

You fascinated him.

And perhaps, you were also a bit fascinated by him.

⸻

“Professor Lupin!” Your voice rang out cheerfully in the dimly lit corridor as you hurried to catch up with him. It was late, and most of the students had long since retreated to their common rooms, leaving the halls quiet. Remus had been enjoying the stillness, but he found he didn’t mind the interruption.

“Professor Y/L/N,” he greeted with a small smile. “You’re out late.”

“So are you,” you teased, falling into step beside him. “Patrolling?”

He nodded. “And you?”

You clasped your hands behind your back, swaying slightly as you walked. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d take a stroll, see if I ran into any troublemakers. And lucky me, I found one.”

Remus chuckled. “If I’m the troublemaker, then I think Hogwarts is in good hands.”

“Mm, true,” you mused. “You’re probably the least troublesome professor here. But you are mysterious, you know.”

“Mysterious?” He raised an eyebrow.

You stopped walking, tilting your head as you studied him. “You’re quiet. You watch more than you speak. And you always look like you’re carrying a secret.”

Remus stiffened, but before he could react, you grinned. “I like it. Makes you intriguing.”

He exhaled, relieved that you hadn’t pressed further. “And you,” he said, glancing at your robes—a shade of coral today—“are the opposite of mysterious. You’re a walking burst of color.”

You laughed, twirling once so your robes flared around you. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Professor Lupin.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I mean it as a compliment.”

“Good,” you said, smiling up at him. “I like bright things. Life’s too short for dullness, don’t you think?”

He hesitated. Life was short—too short. And he had spent so much of it hiding, so much of it afraid. But here you were, living in a way he had never allowed himself to.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I think you’re right.”

You beamed. “Of course I am. Now, let’s finish your patrol together, shall we? Unless, of course, you’d rather be mysterious and wander alone?”

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, his night became a little brighter.

⸻

Remus wasn’t sure when it started happening.

One day, you were just a fellow professor, a bright and cheerful presence in the castle halls. The next, you were someone he found himself looking for in the Great Hall, someone whose voice he could pick out even in a crowded room.

You had a way of getting to him—and perhaps what unsettled him most was that he didn’t mind it.

It was in the way you brought him tea before staff meetings, always with a knowing smile. “You look tired, Professor Lupin. Chamomile today?”

It was in the way you pulled him into conversations, even when he preferred to stay on the outskirts. “Oh, don’t sit all the way down there, Remus! Come closer!”

And it was in the way you laughed—unrestrained, joyful, as if you had never known sorrow.

Remus wasn’t foolish enough to believe that was true. No one reached adulthood without some pain. But Merlin, you carried yourself as though the world had only ever been kind to you, and that was something he envied.

And perhaps, if he was being honest, something he loved.

⸻

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when you finally got him to go on a walk with you.

“I don’t know how you always convince me to do things,” he muttered as you strolled across the Hogwarts grounds.

You beamed. “Because I’m charming. And persistent.”

“That you are,” he murmured, hands tucked into his pockets.

The leaves crunched beneath your boots, and you let out a contented sigh. “Don’t you love this time of year? It’s so warm and cozy—well, not warm warm, but you know what I mean.”

Remus glanced at your robes, which today were a lovely shade of burnt orange. He did know what you meant.

He also knew he was in trouble.

Because the way the autumn sunlight caught in your hair, the way your smile rivaled the golden leaves around you—it was dangerous.

And then you turned to him with that same, easy joy. “Tell me something about yourself, Remus.”

He hesitated. “Like what?”

You shrugged. “Anything. Something happy.”

Happy. The word felt foreign on his tongue, yet you made it sound so simple.

He thought for a moment. “I had a friend, when I was a student here. James Potter. He had the worst habit of ruffling his hair whenever he saw someone he wanted to impress.”

You grinned. “Did it work?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “But he never stopped doing it.”

“I like that,” you said. “It’s nice to have little quirks like that. Things that make people themselves.”

Remus looked at you, then—really looked. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way you gestured wildly when you spoke, the way you lived so unapologetically.

And he realized, in that moment, that he didn’t just like you.

He was falling for you.

⸻

The realization haunted him for days.

Falling in love was not something Remus Lupin had ever allowed himself. Love, to him, was an impossible dream—something meant for other people. Not a man with scars and secrets, not a man who carried the weight of a curse.

But you didn’t seem to care about impossibilities.

And that terrified him.

“Why do you do that?” he asked one evening when you plopped down beside him at dinner, grinning as if you had chosen that seat just for him.

“Do what?” you asked innocently.

“This,” he gestured between you. “You always—” he hesitated, voice softer now. “You always seek me out.”

You tilted your head. “Because I like you, Remus.”

His breath hitched.

You smiled. “You’re kind. And thoughtful. And you listen. Not just to words, but to people. I like being around you.”

Remus stared at you, unsure what to say.

You didn’t seem to expect anything, though. You simply nudged his shoulder playfully and said, “Besides, you look at me like I’m pretty. And I like that, too.”

His face burned, and your laughter rang through the Great Hall.

He was in so much trouble.

You laughed, the sound light and easy, as Remus stared at you, utterly lost.

“W-what?” he managed, though his face felt like it was on fire.

“I said,” you grinned, reaching for your goblet of pumpkin juice, “I like that you look at me like I’m pretty.”

Remus didn’t know what to do with that statement. He opened his mouth—then shut it. Opened it again. Nothing.

You were still looking at him, amused but patient, waiting to see how he would respond.

And Merlin, what was he supposed to say to that?

“I—I don’t—” he fumbled, clearing his throat. “I don’t mean to—“

“Oh, don’t apologize, Remus,” you interrupted, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I minded.”

His brain short-circuited.

You liked it?

He knew you were teasing him, but there was something so matter-of-fact in your tone, so utterly unconcerned, like this was the simplest thing in the world.

Like it was normal.

Like he was normal.

He swallowed thickly, grasping onto the one part of the conversation he could control. “You—er—look nice today.”

Your eyes twinkled. “Is that so?”

Remus exhaled, running a hand over his face. “You always look nice,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “That’s the problem.”

You blinked. “Problem?”

He really needed to stop talking.

“Never mind,” he muttered quickly, reaching for his cup.

But you didn’t let it go. Instead, you leaned in slightly, resting your chin in your hand as you studied him. “You’re quite the mystery, Remus Lupin.”

“So I’ve been told,” he murmured.

Your smile softened. “I meant what I said, you know. I do like you.”

His fingers tightened around his goblet.

“I know you think too much,” you continued. “That you convince yourself of things that aren’t true.”

Remus’ throat felt tight.

“But for the record,” you said, giving him a little nudge, “I think you’re wonderful.”

And just like that, you turned back to your meal, as if you hadn’t just set his entire world spinning.

⸻

Remus avoided you for the rest of the day.

Not because he wanted to. But because he needed to.

Because if he let himself near you right now, he might do something reckless. Something foolish.

Something selfish.

Because the thing was—he wanted to believe you.

He wanted to believe that you saw him as more than just a collection of scars and regrets. That you thought he was wonderful. That you liked him.

But the part of him that had spent a lifetime keeping people at arm’s length wouldn’t let him.

So he did what he always did.

He hid.

It didn’t work.

Because the moment dinner ended, you caught up with him in the corridor, stepping in front of him before he could slip away.

“Remus.”

He stopped, sighing. “You don’t have to—”

“You’re running away from me.”

He winced. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you?”

He sighed again. “I just—” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

You crossed your arms. “You could start with ‘hello.’”

Despite himself, he huffed a quiet laugh. “Hello.”

You grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Remus shook his head. “You make everything seem simple.”

Your expression softened. “It is simple, Remus.”

He swallowed. “Not for me.”

You studied him for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, finally, you said, “Come on.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” you repeated, grabbing his hand before he could protest and tugging him down the hall.

Remus didn’t know where you were leading him, but he didn’t resist.

Because, Merlin help him—when it came to you, he never could.

You led him outside.

The night air was cool, the stars shimmering above, and the castle grounds stretched before you in quiet stillness.

You finally stopped near the lake, turning to face him with that same, unwavering confidence you always carried

“I like you, Remus,” you said simply. “And I think—no, I know—you like me, too.”

His heart pounded.

“I’m not asking for forever,” you continued, taking a small step closer. “I’m just asking you to let yourself have something good.”

His breath hitched.

Because Gods, he wanted to.

But—

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m not—I’m not a good bet.”

You frowned. “And why not?”

“I have too much baggage,” he said. “Too many things I can’t change.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t,” you said firmly. “And I need you to believe that.”

Remus clenched his jaw.

And then you reached for his hands—both of them—lacing your fingers together in a way that made his chest ache.

“I like you, Remus Lupin,” you said again, softer this time. “And I think you should stop fighting so hard against being liked back.”

He swallowed.

Because that? That was the most terrifying thing of all.

But the warmth of your hands in his—the gentle, patient way you held him—it made him wonder.

What if…?

What if he didn’t fight this?

What if he let himself have this?

What if, just this once, he let himself be selfish?

You were watching him, waiting. Giving him the choice.

And for the first time in his life, Remus Lupin chose happiness.

He squeezed your hands.

And smiled.

Remus exhaled slowly, staring at your hands intertwined with his.

This was it—the moment he had spent days, weeks, maybe even years convincing himself he would never have.

And yet, here you were.

And he had a choice.

He could let his fears win, let the doubts creep back in, let himself believe that this—you—were something he could never have.

Or…

He could try.

“Alright,” he said, voice quiet but steady.

Your brows lifted. “Alright?”

He gave a small, almost nervous chuckle. “Alright.”

A slow, radiant smile spread across your face. “So… does that mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

His heart did a ridiculous little stutter at the word. Date.

It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him and seen that kind of possibility. But you did.

And, Merlin help him, he wanted it.

He wanted you.

“Yes,” he said, and the weight of the word felt light—freeing. “I’d like that.”

Your grin widened, and without warning, you threw your arms around him.

Remus stiffened at first, but then—slowly, hesitantly—he wrapped his arms around you, too. And for the first time in a long, long while, he allowed himself to just be.

With you.

When you finally pulled back, your hands still resting on his shoulders, you smirked. “See? That wasn’t so scary, was it?”

He shook his head, lips twitching. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Good,” you beamed. “Because I already have plans.”

“Oh?

“Mhm. Dinner. Friday night. And before you try to argue, I know you don’t have plans, because I already checked your schedule.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, echoing the words you’d said to him before.

Here he was.

With you.

And for the first time in a long time, Remus Lupin wasn’t looking for a reason to run.

[thatfatbitxch]

Shadowbound

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Reader works for the Order of the Phoenix and uses their ability to move through shadows to infiltrate Death Eater meetings. Lucius Malfoy discovers their secret.

Note: This fanfic was written as a request for a Lucius Malfoy story where the Reader has the ability to move through shadows.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The air in Malfoy Manor was thick with candle smoke and tension. Hooded figures sat in a loose circle, their murmured conversations weaving through the grand drawing room like threads of an unspoken agreement. The Dark Lord was absent tonight, but his followers still gathered—plotting, scheming, waiting.

And watching.

From the darkest corner of the ceiling, unseen and unheard, you lingered. The shadows curled around you like living things, shielding you from sight. The gift—or curse—of shadow-walking had made you an invaluable asset to the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had been hesitant to use you at first, but war demanded sacrifices. Morality bent in the face of necessity.

You shifted, a silent movement in the rafters. A whispered incantation from your lips merged your body with the darkness again, allowing you to slide along the walls like smoke.

Tonight, you were here for information.

The voices of the Death Eaters drifted up to you.

“The Ministry is weakening,” a deep voice murmured—Macnair. “With our influence inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, we can begin preparing for the next stage.”

“If the fools in the Ministry were ever competent, they’d have seen this coming years ago,” sneered another—Lestrange. “They’re so desperate to maintain their fragile peace, they won’t dare to act until it’s too late.”

Your fingers itched. If you had your dagger, you could slit their throats before they even saw you. But that wasn’t your mission tonight. You weren’t here to kill—only to listen.

Then, a voice cut through the murmur. Lucius Malfoy.

“And what of the Order?” His voice was smooth, unhurried, but edged with something sharp beneath the surface. “They are not as blind as the Ministry. If we underestimate them, it will be our undoing.”

You hated to admit it, but he was right.

Lucius was a man of strategy, not reckless bloodlust like some of the others. That made him more dangerous. He was one of the few Death Eaters whose moves couldn’t be easily predicted, which made infiltrating his home all the more risky.

But risk was your specialty.

You shifted again, preparing to slide toward the far wall where the door stood ajar—an escape route ready if needed. But then—

A cold prickle ran down your spine.

Someone was watching.

Your breath caught, and you turned just enough to glimpse him. Lucius Malfoy stood at the far end of the room, his gaze tilted upward. Not searching, not guessing—knowing.

His grey eyes locked onto the space where you hid in the shadows.

Impossible.

No one had ever sensed you before. Even the best Aurors couldn’t detect your presence unless you willed it. And yet, Lucius was staring directly at you, the corners of his lips curving just slightly—amused, intrigued.

He knew.

Panic surged through you, but you forced it down. If you moved too quickly, you’d give yourself away. You needed to think.

Lucius didn’t speak. He didn’t warn the others. He simply raised a hand, swirling the wine in his glass, his expression unreadable.

A warning? A challenge? A game?

Your heart pounded. You had no choice now.

It was time to disappear.

You whispered the incantation under your breath, slipping fully into the shadows. The world blurred around you, and within seconds, you were gone—fading into the walls, slipping through the cracks, reemerging outside in the cold night air.

As you sprinted toward the edge of the wards, your mind raced. Lucius Malfoy had seen you. Not just seen—recognized what you were. And yet, he had done nothing.

That meant one thing.

This wasn’t over.

༺༻

The following night, you stayed away from Malfoy Manor. It was the only logical choice. Any other Death Eater would have raised the alarm the moment they saw an intruder. Lucius Malfoy hadn’t. That unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

And yet, despite the danger, you couldn’t ignore the way he had looked at you—like a man who had just uncovered a secret he had no intention of sharing.

You should have reported it to the Order. You should have told Moody or Kingsley that Lucius Malfoy might have seen you. But something held you back. A gut feeling.

Or maybe, something more dangerous than that.

So instead of returning to the manor, you waited. Watched. Lucius was a creature of habit, and you knew where to find him when he wasn’t playing loyal servant to Voldemort.

Borgin and Burkes.

He arrived at the shop just past midnight, stepping out of a black carriage drawn by thestrals. He moved with his usual measured grace, his long coat sweeping behind him, silver hair gleaming under the dim streetlamps of Knockturn Alley.

You melted into the shadows, slipping into the alley beside the shop. You could listen, wait—see if he would mention you to anyone.

But then, as if he had expected you, Lucius turned his head slightly.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

Your breath hitched. He was speaking to you.

Slowly, you emerged from the darkness, stepping into the alley’s entrance. The space between you was small, but it felt charged, like a wire pulled too tight.

Lucius tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “You’re very talented. I doubt even the Dark Lord himself has noticed you slipping in and out of our meetings.”

Your fingers twitched at your side, ready to summon your wand. “And yet, you did.”

“You intrigue me.” He said it like a confession and a challenge all at once. His voice was low, smooth as silk, but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You hated how your pulse quickened. He was dangerous—too dangerous.

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

Lucius stepped closer. Not too close—just enough for you to catch the scent of expensive cologne, the faintest trace of firewhiskey.

“A proposition.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And why would I ever trust a Death Eater’s proposition?”

Lucius chuckled, soft and amused. “Oh, I don’t expect you to trust me, my dear. But I suspect you will listen.”

He reached into his coat, moving slow enough not to startle you, and withdrew a small silver ring. He turned it between his fingers before offering it to you.

“Wear this, and you will know when I wish to speak with you. No one else will recognize its magic.”

You didn’t take it. Not yet. “Why?”

Lucius smiled. “Because you intrigue me. Because I think we both know you don’t belong entirely to the Order, just as I do not belong entirely to the Dark Lord.”

You frowned. “You serve Voldemort.”

His jaw tensed at the name. “I serve many things.”

There was something unreadable in his expression—something calculating, something undeniably interested.

And damn you, you were interested, too.

Finally, you reached out and took the ring, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. The contact sent something sharp and electric through you.

Lucius watched you closely, his gaze flickering to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I will be in touch.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he turned and disappeared into Borgin and Burkes, leaving you standing in the cold night air—wondering what you had just gotten yourself into.

༺༻

The ring burned cold against your skin. It had been days since you’d taken Lucius Malfoy’s offer—since you had let him walk away without reporting him to the Order. You knew you should have thrown the ring into the fire, rid yourself of whatever twisted game he was playing.

And yet, when the metal warmed against your finger tonight, its magic pulsing in silent summons, you didn’t hesitate.

You followed the pull to a secluded manor outside of London. Not Malfoy Manor—he was too careful for that. Instead, he had chosen a forgotten estate, shrouded in mist and moonlight, its gardens overgrown and untamed.

You stepped through the gates, the night air humming with magic. He was waiting.

Lucius stood near the fountain, its stone cracked with age. His silver-blond hair gleamed in the dim light, his long coat hanging open over a dark waistcoat. He looked every bit the aristocrat, composed and elegant, yet there was something in his stance tonight—something looser, more indulgent.

“You came,” he murmured, as if pleased.

You crossed your arms. “You knew I would.”

Lucius smirked. “Yes. I did.”

You wanted to hate the way his voice wrapped around you, soft and rich like velvet. Instead, you ignored the shiver trailing down your spine.

“Why are we here, Malfoy?” you asked.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

His answer was simple. Unapologetic.

Your heart stuttered, but you kept your expression cool. “You’ve seen me. Now say what you have to say.”

Lucius stepped closer. “Must everything be business with you?” His voice was lower now, softer. “You slip into my home like a ghost. You walk unseen through war, through blood and secrets. And yet, you let me see you.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t—”

“Oh, but you did.” He reached up, gloved fingers trailing just above your wrist, not quite touching. “And I wonder why.”

Your breath hitched. You should step back. You should pull away.

But you didn’t.

Lucius tilted his head, his gaze heavy on yours. “You intrigue me.”

You had heard those words before, but tonight, they carried something else—something raw, unguarded.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for his wrist, your fingers curling over the fabric of his sleeve. “And if I said the same?”

Lucius exhaled, the sound almost a laugh. “Then I would say we are both in more danger than I thought.”

You had spent years slipping through the shadows, hiding behind duty, behind war. But here, now, with Lucius Malfoy looking at you like you were something more than an enemy, more than an ally—something he wanted—the war outside didn’t seem to matter.

His hand ghosted up your arm, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of you.

“This is foolish,” you murmured.

“Undoubtedly.”

And yet neither of you moved away.

Lucius reached for your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. His fingers were cold, the leather soft against your skin.

Your pulse thundered as his lips hovered just over yours—so close, too close—until finally, he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow at first, careful, like testing the weight of something fragile. Then it deepened, a clash of heat and restraint unraveling all at once. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had already decided he would not let you go.

You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, his lips lingered just near your jaw.

“You should leave,” he whispered, though his grip said otherwise.

“And if I don’t?”

Lucius smirked against your skin. “Then, my dear, you are playing a very dangerous game.”

But as his lips found yours again, you realized something.

You had already lost.

[thatfatbitxch]

I Was Made For Lovin’ You 

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Summary: He catches you dancing in your room.

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

A half-finished bottle of elf-made wine sat on the bedside table, next to a stack of parchment she had abandoned hours ago. But none of that mattered—because the room was currently vibrating with the sound of “I was made for loving you” blaring from a charmed gramophone.

Y/N was lost in it.

We aring nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of black lace panties, she moved freely, hips swaying, arms lifting above her head as she let the music take over. Her voice carried through the chambers as she sang along, eyes shut, heart pounding.

“Tonight, I wanna give it all to you…”

The sultry voice of Paul Stanley poured from the enchanted record player, filling the space with a hypnotic beat. The bass thrummed through her bones, driving her to move with reckless abandon.

Her movements were fluid, uninhibited. A rush of heat spread across her skin, exhilaration buzzing beneath the surface. It had been a long day of lectures, grading, and keeping up the ever-present façade of control. But here—here in her chambers, alone—she didn’t have to be the strict, no-nonsense professor. She could just be herself.

She didn’t hear the knock. She didn’t hear the door creak open.

She spun on her heel, tossing her head back—

And then she saw him.

Severus Snape stood frozen in the doorway, dark robes still swaying slightly from his sudden halt. Merlin, his expression—was caught between shock and something much harder to place. His dark eyes, sharp and piercing, flickered over her in a way that sent a jolt of something dangerous down her spine His eyes were locked onto her, his lips had parted slightly in what she could only assume was disbelief.

Silence.

Y/N’s entire body went rigid, mortification crashing over her like a tidal wave. The music still played, the beat pulsing through the air, but the moment had shifted into something else entirely.

Severus blinked once. Twice.

“I—” she started, but words failed her.

One dark brow arched ever so slightly. “You do realize your door was unlocked?” His voice was smooth, controlled, but there was an edge to it—something just beneath the surface.

Y/N swallowed hard. Heat rushed to her face, but she forced herself to recover. She straightened her posture, planting her hands on her hips. “I—I didn’t think I’d have company at this hour.”

Something flickered in his expression. “Evidently.” His gaze flickered downward for the briefest moment before snapping back up to meet hers. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“You weren’t expecting company,” he repeated slowly, his voice like silk and steel. “Yet you insist on subjecting the entire corridor to—” He gestured vaguely toward the gramophone, still blaring. “KISS?”

Oh, Merlin. She was still in her underwear.

A heavy silence stretched between them, the tension thick enough to slice with a blade.

Severus cleared his throat, though there was a slight roughness to it. “I came to discuss—” He exhaled sharply, visibly forcing himself to refocus. “Something that now seems considerably less urgent.”

Y/N bit her lip. Her heartbeat was erratic, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the way he was looking at her.

Slowly, she reached for her wand and flicked it toward the gramophone. The music stopped abruptly, leaving only the sound of the crackling fire between them.

“I—um. Well. What was it you wanted to discuss?” she asked, attempting to salvage the situation.

Snape hesitated. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he muttered, “It can wait.”

Severus was still looking at her.

Not in the usual way. Not in the way that suggested mild irritation or quiet amusement at her antics.

No. This was different.

His gaze was darker, heavier. His fingers twitched where they rested on his forearm, his breathing just the slightest bit shallower than usual.

It made something coil in her stomach.

For a wild, reckless moment, she wondered—what if?

What if she stepped closer?

What if she didn’t let him leave?

Her skin felt hot, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

And then, as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Severus straightened.

Whatever had flickered across his face vanished, replaced once more by careful indifference.

He turned on his heel, but not before she caught the slightest twitch of his lips.

And then, just as he reached the door, he added, “Nice performance, by the way.”

The door shut behind him.

Y/N stared after him, stunned.

And then, despite the mortification burning through her, a slow smirk formed on her lips.

Maybe—just maybe—she hadn’t completely ruined everything.

༺༻

The encounter replayed in Y/N’s mind for the rest of the night.

She tossed and turned in her bed, replaying every detail—the way Severus had looked at her, the flicker of something dark and unspoken in his expression, the way his voice had dropped lower before he left.

It was maddening.

And she wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

Severus sat alone in his dimly lit quarters, a tumbler of firewhisky in hand, staring into the dying embers of his fireplace.

He should have left the moment he saw her like that.

Bare legs, loose shirt, wild hair. Completely unaware of his presence, utterly unguarded in a way he had never seen before.

And the way she had moved.

Merlin.

Snape took a slow sip of his drink, letting the burn distract him. He had spent years mastering his control, perfecting the art of restraint. But tonight—tonight had chipped away at that self-discipline in a way that made him uneasy.

Because for a fleeting moment, he had wanted to stay.

To step closer.

To see what would happen if he didn’t leave.

He exhaled sharply, setting the tumbler down with more force than necessary. This was absurd. Whatever had happened in her chambers—it meant nothing.

Nothing.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

༺༻

The morning bustle of the Great Hall was as lively as ever—students chattering over porridge and toast, the hum of conversation filling the space.

Y/N entered like she always did—confident, composed, her robes flowing neatly behind her. But the moment her eyes met his across the staff table, something wicked flickered in her gaze.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Severus forced himself to keep his expression neutral as she made her way toward her usual seat—directly next to him.

“Good morning, Severus,” she greeted smoothly, pouring herself a cup of tea.

He inclined his head slightly. “Professor.”

Her lips curled. “Sleep well?”

His grip on his cup tightened. “Adequately.”

She hummed, stirring her tea leisurely. “I didn’t.”

He shouldn’t have asked. He knew he shouldn’t.

But the words left him anyway. “And why is that?”

She turned to him fully, her voice just low enough that no one else could hear. “I had a rather… distracting visitor last night.”

Severus took a slow sip of coffee, pretending to be unaffected. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes.” She tilted her head slightly, watching him with that same knowing look from the night before. “He rather enjoyed my performance, from what I recall.”

He nearly choked.

But years of practice kept his expression perfectly unreadable.

“I’m sure you imagined that.”

She smirked. “Did I?”

There was a challenge in her eyes now, something daring, teasing. And Merlin help him, he wanted to rise to it.

Instead, he set his cup down with deliberate slowness.

“If I recall correctly,” he murmured, voice silk and steel, “your performance was somewhat… lacking in discipline.”

Her brows lifted, amusement flickering across her face. “Oh?”

Severus leaned slightly closer—not enough for anyone else to notice, but just enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence.

“If you truly wish to put on a show, Professor,” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper, “I suggest you try harder next time.”

Something in her breath hitched.

For the first time since last night, she looked momentarily caught off guard.

And Severus—well.

He rather enjoyed that. This was a game to him, a game he was going to lose.

He stood smoothly, adjusting his robes. “Enjoy your tea.”

And with that, he swept out of the Great Hall, leaving her staring after him.

But as he disappeared into the corridors, he could still feel her smirk burning into his skin.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

༺༻

The air in Hogwarts carried a certain electricity that day.

It wasn’t spoken about, wasn’t acknowledged outright, but it was there.

Y/N felt it every time she crossed paths with Severus—during staff meetings, in the corridors, even in the Great Hall. There was something simmering between them, something just beneath the surface. A tension that had existed for months, perhaps even years, but after last night—after this morning—it had become unbearable.

And she had no intention of letting it go.

The castle had settled into silence. Most students had retired to their dormitories, and the only sounds in the corridors were the distant echoes of moving staircases and the occasional shuffle of a night patrol.

Y/N was in her chambers again, sitting by the fireplace with a book in her lap. But she wasn’t reading.

No.

She was waiting.

She expected him to show up again, to find some excuse to darken her doorway like he had last night. Or perhaps—perhaps she wanted to push him just a little further

The embers in the fireplace crackled softly as she rose to her feet.

With a flick of her wand, the gramophone clicked to life once more.

The opening chords of another KISS song filled the room, slow and haunting.

She knew this is what he wanted.

She let the sound wash over her, let it consume the space around her. It was bold, reckless, but she wanted to test him.

And if he didn’t take the bait?

Well.

Then she’d make him.

She let the music build, swaying slowly as she ran her fingers through her hair. The memory of his voice from this morning echoed in her mind—Try harder next time.

Oh, she would.

She was just about to lose herself in the rhythm when—

Knock. Knock.

A slow smirk curved her lips. Right on time.

She turned, making no move to adjust her appearance before flicking her wand toward the door.

It swung open with a whisper.

And there he was.

Severus stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim torchlight of the corridor. His expression was carefully schooled into indifference, but there was something sharper in his eyes—something unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound between them was the slow, sultry beat of the song filling the room.

Then, finally—

“I should be surprised,” she murmured, tilting her head, “but somehow, I’m not.”

Severus exhaled sharply, stepping inside without invitation. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

“Merlin’s sake, again with this infernal band?” His voice was low, irritated—but there was an edge to it, something darker beneath his usual exasperation.

Y/N took a slow step closer, her smirk widening. “Why, Severus,” she teased, “I didn’t take you for a music critic.”

His gaze flickered over her, just briefly.

She was still in her nightwear—this time, a satin camisole and matching shorts. The firelight cast a warm glow against her skin, accentuating every curve, every inch of bare leg.

And Severus noticed.

He didn’t react—not outwardly.

But the way his fingers twitched at his sides? The way his jaw clenched just slightly?

Oh, he noticed.

Y/N took another step forward, closing the distance between them just enough to make him uncomfortable.

Or excited.

She wasn’t quite sure which.

“I thought you didn’t enjoy my performances,” she murmured. “And yet, here you are.”

Severus inhaled slowly, his dark eyes never leaving hers.

“I came to remind you,” he said, voice quiet but firm, “that sound carries in these corridors. If you insist on blasting your music again, I—”

“—You’ll what?” she interrupted smoothly, her voice dripping with challenge.

Severus stilled.

She arched a brow. “You’ll scold me? Deduct points?” She took another step, so close now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Or will you just stand there and pretend last night didn’t happen?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“You are insufferable,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

She smiled. “And yet you came back.”

Another silence stretched between them.

This time, it was thick.

Dangerous.

Severus stood rigid, his breathing slow, measured. For the first time all evening, Y/N felt the shift in power. Because suddenly, it wasn’t her testing him.

It was him testing her.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, “is this a game to you?”

Y/N blinked.

Her smirk faltered just slightly.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes searching hers. “Do you do this for amusement? Because you find it entertaining to see how far you can push me?”

She swallowed. “I—”

But she didn’t have an answer.

Because she didn’t know.

What had started as teasing—something playful, something harmless—had spiraled into something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Severus took a single step closer. Not touching. Not yet.

But so close.

“You should be careful, Professor,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against her skin. “Because eventually…”

His voice dropped even lower.

“…you might win.”

The air between them crackled.

Her pulse was thundering, her skin burning.

Because Merlin help her, she wanted to.

She wanted to win.

And the worst part?

She had the feeling he wanted her to win too.

A silence stretched between them—thick, pulsing, electric.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them spoke.

And then, in a blur of motion—

Severus turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he strode toward the door.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But just before he disappeared into the corridor—

He paused.

Didn’t turn back. Didn’t look at her.

But his voice, dark and smooth, cut through the thick silence like a blade.

“I’ll be listening next time.”

The moment the door shut behind him, Y/N exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest.

She was burning.

Her heart was racing, her skin hot with the remnants of Severus’s presence. The way he had stood so close, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a promise and a warning all at once—

You should be careful, Professor. Because eventually… you might win.

I’ll be listening next time.

Her fingers curled against her palm.

Enough was enough.

She had spent too long denying the feeling she had coursing through her, pushing, seeing how far she could take it. But she wasn’t playing anymore.

She wanted to win.

And tonight—tonight—she wasn’t going to let him walk away again.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her robe, slipping it over her nightwear, and stormed out of her chambers.

By the time she reached his door, her pulse was thrumming wildly.

A part of her wondered if he had been telling the truth—if he really had been listening after he left, if he had stood in the corridor, waiting for her to push him further.

Well.

She was about to find out.

Without hesitation, she raised her hand and knocked.

There was a long pause.

Then—

The door swung open.

Severus stood there, still dressed in his teaching robes, as if he hadn’t even bothered to prepare for sleep. His dark eyes flicked over her, taking in the fact that she was barefoot, her robe barely covering the silk of her nightwear.

He said nothing.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

And that only made her want to push him harder.

Y/N inhaled, tilting her chin up. “You left.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I did.”

She stepped closer. “Why?”

His lips parted slightly before pressing into a firm line. “Because I had no reason to stay.”

Liar.

She could see it in his expression, the war waging behind his carefully controlled facade.

“Say it again,” she murmured.

He stilled. “What?”

She took another step, toeing the very edge of the threshold. “Say you had no reason to stay.”

His breathing slowed.

Y/N arched a brow, waiting. Daring him to lie again.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped aside.

A silent invitation.

Her heart pounded.

Slowly, deliberately, she crossed into his quarters.

The door shut behind her with a soft click.

And in that moment—she knew.

There was no going back. The silence between them was deafening.

Severus stood rigid, his hands curled at his sides. Y/N could feel the tension rolling off him, the weight of everything unsaid pressing into the space between them.

She was done waiting.

“Severus.”

His gaze snapped to hers.

She stepped closer, slow and purposeful. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

His breath hitched.

Y/N reached for him—not touching, not yet, but so close. Her fingers hovered near the fabric of his robes, waiting, giving him the chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispered.

Nothing.

Silence.

His breathing had deepened, his jaw tight. But he still didn’t move.

Didn’t stop her.

Didn’t walk away.

Y/N swallowed, her voice softer now. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Still, nothing.

And then—

Ever so slowly—

Severus lifted a hand.

For a moment, she thought he was going to push her away.

But instead, his fingers ghosted against her wrist.

A silent permission.

And that was all it took.

The restraint that had held them apart for months finally snapped.

Severus moved first.

One sharp, deliberate motion—his hand grasped her wrist fully, pulling her forward.

Y/N barely had time to gasp before his lips were on hers.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t slow.

It was fierce, desperate—a collision of built up tension, of stolen glances and unsaid words. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.

Y/N responded just as fiercely, her fingers gripping the front of his robes, pulling, needing more.

He groaned against her mouth, deep and low, his hands sliding down her back, gripping her waist, anchoring her against him.

She had wanted to win.

But he had wanted to lose.

To her.

The thought sent a thrill through her, and she broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “I knew I’d win.”

Severus exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against hers.

Then, in a voice rough with restraint, he murmured, “You haven’t won yet.”

Her breath caught.

Because that wasn’t a rejection.

That was a promise.

And as his lips found hers again, as he backed her toward the nearest surface, as his hands slid beneath the edges of her robe, fingertips burning against her skin and she realized they had both lost.

They had both lost.

And they had both won.

Because finally, finally—

They weren’t pretending anymore.

[thatfatbitxch]

Hi! I just read you're taking requests and I love your writings, so I was wondering if you could write something about Reader being a new teacher at Hogwarts, and she's just as dark and gloomy as Severus? You can choose where to go from there, sorry if it's too vague!

Kindred Shadows

Pairing: Severus Snape x prof reader

Note: I tried my best to make the reader dark and gloomy but that’s not typically what I write so I hope this is okay and what you wanted.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The first whispers of Y/N’s arrival at Hogwarts spread through the castle long before the term began. A new professor—stern, enigmatic, and as unapproachable as the dungeons themselves.

The students, ever eager for gossip, speculated wildly.

“She’s worse than Snape,” a Gryffindor declared in hushed tones.

“No way,” a skeptical Ravenclaw shot back. “No one’s worse than Snape.”

Yet when Professor Y/N arrived, their doubts turned to wary silence.

She strode into the Great Hall during the Start-of-Term Feast, a figure wrapped in shadows, her dark robes trailing behind her like a wraith. Her expression was unreadable, her presence quiet yet suffocating. She did not fidget, did not seek conversation. Instead, her sharp eyes flickered over the students, dissecting them as if they were pieces on a chessboard.

At the staff table, Severus Snape watched her. He was not pleased.

A new professor was bad enough. A professor who mirrored his own presence—his own reputation—was far worse.

Albus Dumbledore, ever the orchestrator of chaos, introduced her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Professor Y/N will be joining us as the new Ancient Runes professor. I trust you will all extend to her the same respect and courtesy you show your other professors.”

A few students exchanged knowing glances.

Snape smirked at the irony.

Y/N inclined her head in acknowledgment but spoke nothing.

The feast continued. She did not engage in small talk with her colleagues. Instead, she observed. She was used to being alone, to building walls high enough that no one could breach them. And yet, across the table, she felt the weight of Snape’s gaze on her. Calculating. Measuring.

She met his stare with equal intensity.

No fear. No admiration. Just… understanding.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Her classroom, deep within the castle, was a reflection of herself—dimly lit, filled with the scent of parchment and ink, lined with ancient tomes that whispered secrets long forgotten. She demanded perfection.

She ran her lessons with an ironclad discipline, leaving no room for foolishness.

When a Gryffindor laughed during a translation exercise in the first week, she fixed them with a stare so sharp it could cut steel.

“Do you find something amusing about misinterpreting a warding rune and accidentally locking yourself in a room for the rest of your life?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with quiet menace.

The student swallowed hard and shook their head. “No, Professor.”

Word spread quickly.

Unlike Snape, she did not belittle students, nor did she play favorites. She was fair, but she was strict. She did not tolerate cruelty, nor did she tolerate incompetence.

She did, however, tolerate silence.

Perhaps that was why she and Snape fell into an unspoken understanding so quickly.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Late at night, Snape often prowled the halls, ensuring students were where they ought to be. He expected to be alone.

Until he wasn’t.

One evening, he turned a corner and nearly collided with her.

She did not flinch.

Nor did she apologize.

Instead, she merely regarded him with those piercing eyes of hers before stepping aside, allowing him to pass.

For the first time in years, Severus Snape found himself momentarily unsettled.

He found her again in the library.

Seated in a secluded corner, surrounded by tomes most wizards had long forgotten, she read with the quiet intensity of someone who belonged in the company of books more than people.

“Professor Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low as he approached.

She did not look up. “Professor Snape.”

His lip curled. “You are quite the enigma.”

She finally closed her book with a soft thud and met his gaze. “And you are predictable.”

His brow arched. “Am I?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You think yourself the only one who understands solitude. The only one who walks the halls unseen except when necessary.”

He said nothing.

“You’re not.”

The silence stretched between them, long and unyielding.

Yet, for the first time, it was not uncomfortable.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

It was now November.

The rain pounded against the castle windows, the sky dark and brooding.

The students had long since retreated to their dormitories, and yet, Y/N remained in the corridors, walking alone.

Snape found her there.

“You enjoy the cold?” he asked dryly, arms folded across his chest.

She didn’t turn to face him. “I enjoy the quiet.”

A pause. Then—

“You’re avoiding something.”

She finally turned to him. “And you’re prying.”

His lips twitched in the closest thing he had to amusement. “Touché.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple. “The staff insists on socializing. Minerva invited me for tea. Dumbledore for chess. Even Hagrid suggested a trip to see his… creatures.”

Snape smirked. “You sound as though you were asked to suffer the Cruciatus Curse.”

She exhaled sharply. “I prefer to be alone is all.”

Another pause.

Then, with quiet understanding, Snape turned on his heel and began walking.

To her own surprise, Y/N followed.

They walked in silence, side by side, shadows trailing in their wake.

It became a habit.

Snape and Y/N often found themselves in the same places at the same time—never planned, never spoken about, but always… expected.

A silent presence at the staff table.

A quiet nod in the corridors.

A book exchanged without words in the library.

Neither sought conversation, yet neither avoided it.

The other professors noticed.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Flitwick whispered to Sprout one evening. “I daresay Professor Y/N and Severus seem… to be friends.”

McGonagall merely sipped her tea. “Two solitary creatures will always recognize each other, Filius.”

Dumbledore, ever the observer, merely smiled.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

It wasn’t until a staff meeting in December that something shifted.

The discussion had turned to disciplinary measures. A group of Slytherins had tormented a young Hufflepuff, and Y/N was the first to demand action.

“This should not be tolerated,” she said, voice cold and sharp. “Favoritism should not dictate consequences.”

Snape stiffened. “You believe me to be biased?”

“I believe you to be blind,” she countered.

Silence fell over the room.

The two professors stared at each other, tension thick in the air.

Snape’s jaw tightened. He expected her to be like him—calculated, logical. He did not expect her to challenge him so openly.

But Y/N did not back down.

It was, perhaps, the first time someone had ever met his glare without fear.

And for the first time in years, Severus Snape felt something unfamiliar coil in his chest.

Intrigue.

Respect.

Something deeper.

But beneath that, something far darker stirred, something more intense and difficult to ignore.

Lust.

He caught himself staring at the way her lips pressed together, the slight curve of her figure, her unyielding presence in the room. His pulse quickened, a tight knot forming deep in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else—something dangerous, something… uncontrolled.

The way her eyes locked with his—sharp, knowing—made his body feel warm in a way that was far more intense than any reaction he’d ever had before.

It unsettled him.

She stood there, calm and unflinching, but there was something in the air, something that made the space between them heavy with unspoken things. The longer their gaze lingered, the more his mind lost focus.

He quickly masked the heat rising in his chest, though it was useless to try and erase it. He knew she saw it, the shift in his demeanor, but he didn’t care.

It was a fleeting moment, but it lasted long enough to change everything.

For a split second, Severus Snape was left standing at the edge of something darker than he had ever known—something far more consuming than anything he’d ever been prepared for.

The meeting eventually moved on, the conversation shifting away from them. But Snape barely listened. His mind was elsewhere, replaying her words.

By the time the meeting ended, she had already left.

Snape remained seated, unmoving.

It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize something uncomfortable:

She had been right.

That night, Y/N found something walking intoher office.

A book.

She recognized it immediately—it was one she had been meaning to borrow from the library, one she had mentioned offhandedly weeks ago.

Beside it sat a single cup of tea, still warm.

And tucked beneath the book was a small piece of parchment.

She picked it up, her fingers brushing over the familiar, sharp handwriting. The note read:

“Perhaps I do have favorites. A wise person once said, however, that even the blind can be made to see. Drink the tea before it grows cold.”

There was no signature.

No explanation.

But she knew.

Y/N’s lips quirked slightly at the unspoken apology. It wasn’t much—no grand gesture, no flowery sentiment—but it was enough.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a mix of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place.

As she settled back into her chair, her thoughts turned to the note and to Snape. There had been a shift—something between them had changed. It was subtle, but it was there, in the way he had looked at her during the meeting, the way he hadn’t been able to hide his reaction when she challenged him.

Her mind wandered. The attraction that had flickered between them was undeniable, even if neither of them had acknowledged it aloud.

Y/N set the cup down, the warmth spreading through her chest, and leaned back in her chair, considering the note once more.

She had always been careful with her feelings—guarded, independent, unwilling to let anyone in. But Snape… He was different. Something about him made her feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

And now, with the note, that unspoken connection between them felt even more potent.

She knew Snape wasn’t the type to reveal his emotions easily. His pride and detachment were legendary. But she had seen through it—just as he had seen through her.

The thought of him, however reluctantly, acknowledging something more than their usual interactions made her pulse quicken.

There was something dangerous about it, about him. But in a way, that only drew her in further.

Y/N’s lips parted as she took another sip of the tea, the warmth settling deep within her, but her thoughts remained a swirl of uncertainty.

What did this mean? Would he act on it? Or was this just another of his cryptic gestures, meant to test her without revealing anything concrete?

She didn’t know. But she couldn’t ignore the feeling that things were changing. And the more she thought about it, the harder it was to push it aside.

Meanwhile, in the shadowed halls of Hogwarts, Severus Snape lingered in his own thoughts, trying to ignore the simmering tension rising within him. The note he had left her—it had been a gamble, but he couldn’t help himself. The pull he felt towards her was far too strong, and for the first time in years, he didn’t want to hide it.

His desire for control, for distance, was slipping. He couldn’t hide the growing fascination, the undeniable need for something deeper. The way she had looked at him earlier that day… He could still feel the weight of her gaze, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

The question now was whether or not he could resist it.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

In the classroom, Snape turned just as the door creaked open. His gaze met hers instantly, that familiar, intense look flickering in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken words and hidden tension.

Then, Snape broke the silence, his voice low and measured.

“I trust you found the tea… to your liking?”

Y/N met his gaze, her heart racing, and nodded.

“It was… perfect,” she replied, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart.

Their eyes held for a beat longer than either intended, the space between them charged with something neither was willing to fully acknowledge.

But for once, neither of them looked away.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like an electric current in the air, making it almost impossible to breathe. Snape’s gaze held hers, the weight of his eyes seeming to dig deeper, as if he were seeing straight through her—into the places she kept hidden even from herself.

Y/N’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening as she fought the urge to speak. She didn’t know what to say. The words felt stuck in her throat, like they’d all been twisted together into something she couldn’t untangle. The connection between them was undeniable, and it was starting to feel suffocating in its intensity.

Snape’s voice broke the silence once again, this time a touch softer, though still laced with the same authority.

“You didn’t need to take my tea, you know.” His words were clipped, but there was an edge to them that hadn’t been there before—a vulnerability barely masked by his usual cold composure. “I merely… thought you might appreciate it.”

Y/N stood still, holding his gaze, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk behind her. She wasn’t sure what to make of his tone. There was something in it, something raw that she hadn’t expected from him. Something that matched the storm swirling inside her.

She took a step forward, her body moving of its own accord. The gap between them seemed impossibly small now, her breath catching in her throat as she closed the distance. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it felt like it reverberated through the very air between them.

“Why did you leave it for me?” she asked, her words both a question and a challenge. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She wasn’t about to back down. Not now.

Snape didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering briefly to the floor before returning to her eyes. The cool, detached persona he wore seemed to waver for a moment, and in that brief instant, Y/N saw something more—something that was so stark and raw it left her breathless.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, his voice quiet, as if he were reluctant to speak the truth. “Perhaps I thought… you would appreciate the gesture.”

His words hung in the air, the vulnerability in them stirring something in Y/N that she hadn’t felt in years. It was strange, this delicate shift between them. It was new, uncharted territory for both of them.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped closer to him. The space between them was now so small that she could feel the warmth of his body, a heat that seemed to mirror the rapid pulse in her chest.

Snape’s lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes flickered down to her lips, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, and Y/N felt as if the very air around them was charged with something unspoken.

Her mind screamed at her to step back, to stop whatever this was before it spiraled out of control. But her body betrayed her, taking another step closer, until their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the lingering tension between them.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

But the tension was unbearable.

The moment stretched, and Y/N could feel the magnetism between them pulling her in. It wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper, something more primal. She had spent so long keeping her emotions in check, but now, with Snape standing so close, the walls she’d built seemed to crumble. Her heart raced, her breath shallow as she struggled to make sense of the storm that had been set in motion between them.

Finally, Snape spoke, his voice barely a rasp.

“Y/N…” he began, but the rest of the sentence died on his lips. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t sure he could say it, even if he tried. The words felt like a weight on his tongue, too heavy to speak, too dangerous to acknowledge.

Y/N inhaled sharply, her mind in a whirl of confusion. Her fingers twitched, longing to reach out to him, but she held herself still. If she moved now, she knew there would be no going back.

His breath was warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming. She could feel the tension between them, thick and suffocating, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“I should go,” she said, her voice barely audible, though it wavered. She wanted to leave before either of them did something neither of them could take back. She stepped back, but she didn’t make it far. Snape’s hand shot out, almost instinctively, his fingers brushing her wrist.

Y/N froze, her body stiffening at the contact. The shock of it, the sheer electricity that seemed to course through her at his touch, nearly made her heart stop.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the classroom seemed to fall away, and all that remained was the space between them—charged, dangerous, and more intimate than anything either had experienced in years.

“I don’t want you to go,” Snape muttered, his voice low and rough, though there was an unmistakable urgency to it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up into his eyes, and for the first time, she saw something more than the cold, aloof mask he wore. There was a flicker of something raw—something unguarded.

And in that moment, Y/N made her choice.

She didn’t step back. She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she took a step forward, closing the gap between them once more. And as she did, she saw Snape’s breath catch, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

Whatever this was, whatever had shifted between them, it was undeniable. And neither of them was ready to walk away. Not yet.

Without a word, Snape moved, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek, his touch almost tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Y/N’s breath hitched, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself leaning into him, her eyes fluttering closed.

The kiss came suddenly, without hesitation. It was fierce, hard—an explosion of pent-up emotions that neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. The taste of him, dark and familiar, overwhelmed her senses, sending a jolt through her entire body. His lips were demanding, taking control as though he could no longer fight the pull between them.

Y/N responded in kind, her hands reaching up to grip the front of his robes, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The years of silent tension, the guarded walls they both had built, seemed to vanish in an instant.

It wasn’t just desire that filled the space between them—it was something deeper, something unspoken. Their lips moved together urgently, as if they both realized that this was the only way to truly understand the shifting current between them.

And as they finally pulled back, breathless and wild, neither of them spoke. The silence was deafening, but it didn’t need to be broken. The connection was clear now, undeniable.

The room was still, the air between them heavy with the weight of what had just happened. Y/N’s breath was unsteady, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin, but she didn’t waver. Neither did he.

She had always been different—sharp-edged, cold, a force that others avoided. She was not soft, not delicate. She did not giggle or blush or shrink beneath the weight of a man’s gaze. And Snape—he was the same.

Unyielding.

Perhaps that was why they had found each other in this strange, silent understanding. Two shadows in the same storm, drawn together not by warmth but by something deeper—something carved from the same jagged edges of solitude and restraint.

She met his gaze, unwavering, as if daring him to take back what had just happened.

He did not.

Instead, a slow smirk—just the barest hint of amusement—ghosted across his lips.

Something in her chest tightened.

Yes, she thought. He understood.

And perhaps, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t alone.

[thatfatbitxch]

Masterlist

I have a lot of pieces saved on my phone that I haven’t posted yet. I’m currently going through them, editing, and finishing them before sharing. Most of my work is Harry Potter-related (mainly Snape), but I also have a few for Marvel, Supernatural, Star Wars, and a few other fandoms!

Severus snape:

The Mirror’s truth: Severus Snape has always prided himself on control, but when he stumbles upon the Mirror of Erised and sees you by his side, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, he is shaken to his core

Snape’s not so secret admirer: reader is a new professor at hogwarts. She’s always smiling at Snape and always stumbling on her words when they talk, often caught day dreaming. One morning Snape was curious about her and went into her mind.

Field trip: y/n and Snape have been secretly seeing each other for months, keeping their relationship under wraps. When a field trip to the Muggle world is planned, she convinces Snape to join her. As the trip unfolds, their secret becomes harder to hide.

The muggle wife: part one, part two: Snapes muggle wife comes to work with him for a day.

The Muggle Wife prequel: Y/N, a muggle nurse, stumbles upon an injured Severus Snape in an alley. Despite his gruff demeanor, she insists on helping him.

I was made for loving you: Snape catching you dancing in your chambers.

A date by the fire: Y/n and Snape have been dating in secret and y/n wants to go on a romantic date and asks Snape plan it.

Kindred Shadows: Reader being a new teacher at Hogwarts, and she's just as dark and gloomy as Severus

Teen Snape: request: May I have a teen Severus x muggle reader but they know about the wizarding world from him

A healing bath: You are sick and Severus surprises you with a bath to make you feel better

Remus Lupin:

A Ray of Sunshine: Remus Lupin finds himself drawn to you, a bright and outgoing professor who refuses to let him hide in the shadows.

Paws and Moonlight: Remus and Y/N have been dating for a few months, and for the first time, he’s coming to her place. But there’s one small complication—her dog

Bubble bath: Remus surprises you with a bubble bath

Sirius Black:

Bubble trouble: He surprises you with a bath.

Requests: I’m happy to take requests! Since I’m in school and working a lot, it might take me some time, but I’ll always try my best. At the moment, I don’t write smut—I’ve tried, but I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. Maybe in the future! Otherwise, I’m open to just about anything.

[thatfatbitxch]

The Muggle Wife

Pairing: Severus snape x muggle reader

Summary: Snapes muggle wife comes to work with him for a day.

Word count: 3800

Warnings: None

Prequel Part two

Note: I am a nursing student so I couldn’t help but make y/n a nurse. I wrote this mostly for myself but decided to share. Let me know if you guys want a part two.

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The soft patter of rain against the window was the first thing Y/N noticed as she stirred awake, still nestled beneath the heavy warmth of the blankets. The second was the comforting weight of her husband beside her. Severus was rarely still in the mornings—he was always up before her, always already halfway through a book or preparing for the day ahead. But today, he remained in bed, his breath slow and steady, one arm draped loosely across his stomach.

Y/N turned onto her side, propping herself up slightly to look at him. He was still asleep, his dark hair slightly mussed against the pillow. The deep lines of his face, usually so tight with concentration or irritation, were softened in rest. It was a rare sight. She smiled to herself, taking the moment to admire him.

Outside, the grey sky stretched endlessly, the steady drizzle promising a slow, quiet day. Sundays were one of the few days they had together, uninterrupted. No work, no obligations—just the two of them. Y/N treasured mornings like this, where she could pretend that their lives were simple, that they weren’t so often pulled in different directions.

She reached out, running her fingers lightly over the back of his hand.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Severus’s voice was rough with sleep, his eyes still closed.

Y/N grinned. “Maybe.”

He let out a low sigh but didn’t move away. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward her, finally cracking open one dark eye. “That’s unsettling.”

“You’ll survive,” she teased, brushing her fingertips up his arm.

He hummed, letting his eyes fall shut again. “What time is it?”

Y/N glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “A little after eight.”

Severus exhaled heavily, his fingers flexing against the blanket. “Too early.”

She laughed softly. “For what? You’re usually up by now.”

“It’s Sunday,” he muttered. “Even I am entitled to a moment of peace.”

Y/N tilted her head, amused. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

He let out a low scoff, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips.

She took the opportunity to shift closer, tucking herself against his side. His body was warm, and despite his usual complaints about being smothered, he didn’t push her away. Instead, he lifted an arm, allowing her to rest against him properly.

For a long moment, they simply lay there, listening to the rain.

It was Severus who eventually broke the silence. “Are you working today?”

Y/N sighed. “No, I have the next few days off.”

“Hmm.”

She smiled, recognizing that small sound for what it was—a quiet acknowledgment that he was pleased.

“Which means,” she continued lightly, tracing a slow circle on his chest, “we can actually spend the day together.”

Severus let out a noncommittal noise, but Y/N could tell he wasn’t against the idea.

They spent so much time apart during the week. Between his responsibilities at Hogwarts and her long shifts at the hospital, their days often blurred past one another. It made moments like this—lazy mornings wrapped in each other’s warmth—all the more precious.

She hesitated for a second, chewing her lip. She had been thinking about something for a while now, and if there was ever a moment to bring it up, it was now.

“Severus?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

He opened his eyes again, glancing at her. “What is it?”

She bit the inside of her cheek before speaking. “Can I come with you to Hogwarts tomorrow?”

There it was—the immediate tension in his body, the subtle stiffening of his shoulders. His expression shifted, dark eyes sharpening with caution.

“No,” he said flatly.

Y/N sighed, but she had expected this. “Just hear me out.”

“There is nothing to hear,” he muttered, shifting to sit up slightly. “You do not need to be there.”

“I want to see where you work.”

“I work in a dungeon surrounded by idiotic children. There is nothing remotely appealing about it.”

She huffed, sitting up properly now. “Severus, I’m not asking to stay forever. I just want to visit. I want to see the castle, your classroom—I want to understand what your life is like when you’re not here.”

He ran a hand down his face, clearly agitated. “It is entirely unnecessary.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Is it really that bad? That I want to know more about your world?”

Severus let out a slow, measured breath, rubbing his temple. She could see the internal battle written across his face. He wasn’t just being difficult for the sake of it—he genuinely disliked the idea.

Y/N softened slightly. “Look… I know you like to keep your work and home life separate. I respect that. But I spend all this time telling you about my day-to-day life and I know almost nothing about yours, it’s a huge part of your life. I mean, I spend most of my days at the hospital, and you know everything about my job.”

Severus exhaled through his nose. “Yes, and I like hearing about your day, there’s not much about my job.”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, please, Apparently you got staircases that move, a giant squid in the lake, and ghosts floating around like it’s normal.”

Severus gave her a look. “That is normal.”

She smirked. “Exactly. And yet, I’ve never seen it.”.”

He glanced at her but said nothing.

She reached for his hand again. “Just one day. You don’t even have to introduce me to anyone. I’ll just sit quietly in the back of your class and watch.”

Severus let out a low groan. “That is worse.”

Y/N smiled. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll make you look soft?”

His scowl deepened. “No.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue,” he said through gritted teeth, “is that my students are insufferable, and the last thing I need is them seeing me with my wife.”

She blinked. “So… they don’t know you’re married?”

Severus hesitated before looking away, his expression unreadable.

“Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth with a laugh. “You never told them?”

“There was no reason to,” he muttered.

She gaped at him. “Severus! That’s kind of a big thing to leave out!”

He glared at her. “It is none of their concern.”

“Oh, I’m definitely coming now,” she said, grinning. “I have to see their reactions.”

Severus let out a low sigh, rubbing his temple. “That is precisely why you should not come. It is hardly a place for—” He hesitated before finishing the sentence.

“For a Muggle?” she supplied, arching an eyebrow.

His expression darkened. “For anyone with an ounce of common sense,” he corrected. “Hogwarts is not a place for idle visits. It is a school, not a spectacle.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Severus. Please.”

He turned his head slightly to look at her, his dark eyes scanning her face. He saw the sincerity in her expression, the soft crease of her brow as she studied him, waiting for a response. She wasn’t asking just out of curiosity—she genuinely wanted to understand him better. And damn it, she knew he had a hard time saying no when she looked at him like that.

He exhaled sharply. “You will hate it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Severus scowled, his mind already running through all the potential disasters that could unfold. His students were incompetent enough on their own—throwing Y/N into the mix would only invite chaos. And worse than that, it would invite questions. His students had no idea he was married. He preferred it that way. He had spent years crafting an image of himself as the cold, unapproachable Potions Master, and the presence of his Muggle wife would shatter that illusion in an instant.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Please, Severus?”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. He should say no. He should put an end to this ridiculous idea immediately.

“…Fine,” he muttered begrudgingly.

Y/N grinned, squeezing his hand. “I knew you’d say yes.”

He scowled. “You are infuriating.”

“And you love me for it.”

Severus didn’t respond, but the slight twitch of his lips gave him away.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

An hour later, after a quick breakfast and much grumbling from Severus about how she would regret this decision, they stood near the fireplace in their home, preparing to Floo to Hogwarts. Y/N smoothed down her scrubs, glancing down at them with a small frown. “Maybe I should’ve worn something different.”

Severus eyed her attire critically. “You look perfectly fine.”

“I don’t exactly scream ‘Professor’s wife,’ do I?”

“You certainly don’t scream anything remotely intimidating,” he deadpanned.

She smirked. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh before grabbing a handful of Floo powder. “Just stay close to me and, for the love of Merlin, do not engage with the students more than necessary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but nodded. “Got it. No making friends with your little minions.”

“They are not minions,” Severus growled. “They are reckless, imbecilic—”

“Children,” Y/N interrupted with a pointed look.

Severus sneered but didn’t argue. Instead, he tossed the Floo powder into the flames, watching as they roared emerald green. He stepped inside and held out his hand. “Come.”

Y/N took a deep breath before gripping his hand tightly. “Hogwarts, here we come.”

And with that, they disappeared into the flames.

There was a rushing sensation, the world blurring around her as they were pulled forward at an almost impossible speed. The swirling green light engulfed them, and before Y/N could even catch her breath, they landed in a grand, dimly lit room.

She stumbled slightly, but Severus’s grip on her arm kept her upright.

“Jeez next time, warn me about what that feels like” she muttered, brushing off imaginary soot from her coat.

Severus ignored her, instead glancing around to make sure they hadn’t landed in the middle of some unwanted company. The office they arrived in was old and regal, lined with countless bookshelves and moving portraits. An enormous wooden desk sat at the far end of the room, and a fire crackled warmly in the hearth.

Y/N looked around in awe. “Wow. And this is just the entrance?”

“This is my office,” Severus corrected. “We are in the dungeons.”

She blinked, glancing at the dark stone walls. “Your office is in the basement?”

Severus gave her a dry look. “Dungeons.”

“Right, dungeons,” she said, barely suppressing a smirk.

“Come.” He gestured for her to follow him toward a narrow doorway leading to a long corridor.

Y/N stepped out behind him, and the first thing she noticed was the cool, musty scent of the stone walls. The hallway stretched on, lit only by torches flickering along the sides. It was eerily quiet, save for the soft echo of their footsteps.

“This is… very ominous,” she observed.

Severus merely hummed in response, leading her through a series of winding hallways. As they walked, the silence of the dungeons slowly gave way to the distant sounds of the castle waking up—muffled voices, the occasional burst of laughter, the clatter of footsteps on stone.

Y/N’s eyes wandered everywhere. The moving paintings, the candlelit chandeliers, the impossibly tall ceilings—it was like stepping into another world.

Severus, of course, was entirely unfazed, walking with the same long, purposeful strides he always did.

She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked. “Are you really that miserable working here?”

Severus glanced at her. “I never said I was miserable.”

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “It is… tolerable.”

She smirked. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about your job.”

“I am attempting to maintain my patience with you,” he muttered.

Y/N only laughed.

As they ascended a stone staircase, the sound of students became louder. The moment they stepped into the main hallways, the atmosphere shifted entirely.

The castle was alive.

Students in robes moved through the corridors, chatting and laughing, their voices echoing through the massive stone halls. Some carried books, others had cauldrons or parchment in their arms. It was a chaotic yet strangely organized scene, and Y/N found herself grinning as she took it all in.

However, as soon as students caught sight of Severus, the energy changed. Conversations hushed. Students moved aside instinctively, pressing themselves against the walls to avoid crossing his path. Their gazes flickered nervously between Severus and—

Her.

It was subtle at first—just a few curious glances. But as they walked, the stares became more blatant.

Y/N could practically hear the thoughts running through their heads.

Who is that?

Why is she with Snape?

Wait—Snape has a wife?!

A few students even whispered to each other behind their hands, their expressions ranging from confusion to outright shock.

Y/N bit back a laugh. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Severus, on the other hand, was clearly unamused. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. He didn’t acknowledge the students gawking at them, though Y/N could tell he was very aware of it.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Do they all think you’re a celibate vampire or something?”

Severus shot her a sharp look, his mouth pressing into a firm line.

She grinned. “That’s a yes.”

He inhaled slowly through his nose, as if summoning every ounce of patience he had. “Do not engage.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said sweetly.

Severus led her through the halls, ignoring every wide-eyed stare and hushed whisper. It was clear that the sight of him with someone—let alone a Muggle—was an event in itself.

Y/N, however, found it thoroughly amusing.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to the Potions classroom. Severus paused before pushing the heavy wooden door open, casting her one last warning glance.

“Sit in the back,” he instructed. “Do not speak to the students. And under no circumstances are you to distract my class.”

Y/N placed a hand over her heart in mock sincerity. “I would never.”

Severus narrowed his eyes but said nothing, instead stepping into the classroom.

This was going to be interesting.

The moment Y/N settled into her seat at the back of the classroom, she felt the students’ stares practically burning into her.

It was obvious they were dying to know who she was.

Even as Severus swept into his usual lecture—his voice sharp and commanding—the students kept sneaking glances at her. Some whispered behind their hands, others tried to subtly turn in their seats.

Y/N smiled to herself.

Severus, of course, pretended not to notice. He moved about the room, giving instructions in his usual crisp, no-nonsense tone. “Your Amortentia samples are to be completed by the end of this period. Any foolishness will result in immediate expulsion from my classroom.”

A few students gulped.

Y/N had to resist laughing. Merlin, they’re all terrified of him.

As the students got to work, the room filled with the bubbling of cauldrons and the soft scribbling of notes. The scent of Amortentia—the powerful love potion—lingered in the air, a strange mix of everyone’s most beloved smells.

Y/N sat quietly at first, watching.

But it wasn’t long before one of the students—Hermione Granger, if she recalled the name correctly—turned in her seat and whispered, “Excuse me, miss, but… who are you?”

Immediately, all the students nearby went silent, their attention snapping toward her.

Y/N smiled, leaning forward slightly. “I’m Y/N. Severus’s wife.”

The effect was instant.

A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the room. Several students exchanged wide-eyed glances, some looking downright baffled. A few even turned to gawk at Severus, who was currently occupied with examining a student’s potion.

“Wife?” Ron Weasley whispered, looking scandalized. “Snape’s married?”

“Since when?” someone else asked.

“Wait—how does that even work?”

Y/N chuckled, resting her chin in her hand. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you just look so… nice,” a Hufflepuff girl said hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure whether she should be saying it out loud. “How do you—um—how do you get along with Professor Snape?”

Y/N grinned. “Sev is an absolute sweetheart once you get to know him.”

A collective wave of disbelief washed over the students.

“Sweetheart?” Seamus Finnigan repeated, looking as if he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

Several students immediately turned to look at Severus, as if trying to reconcile this new information with the man they’d known for years.

Y/N laughed at their stunned faces. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise you, once you get past all the scowling and dramatic cloak billowing, he’s actually really kind.”

A few students stifled their laughter at her description.

At that moment, Harry Potter—who had been unusually quiet—spoke up. “How did you two meet?”

Y/N’s smile softened. “Ah. That’s a story.”

That got their attention.

The students leaned in, completely abandoning their potions in favor of hearing whatever ridiculous story had led to their feared Potions Master getting married.

Y/N rested her elbows on the table. “Well, it happened one night when I was walking home from my shift—”

“Shift?” Hermione asked.

“I’m a nurse,” Y/N explained.

That sparked more interest

“A Muggle nurse?” Dean Thomas asked.

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I work in a hospital.”

A few students whispered among themselves. Clearly, this was fascinating information.

Severus, who had been preoccupied with monitoring cauldrons, finally seemed to sense something was amiss. He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing when he saw his students sitting in rapt attention—not to him, but to his wife.

“What,” he asked slowly, his voice low and dangerous, “are you all doing?”

Silence fell over the room.

Then, almost simultaneously, every student turned back to their potions, stirring frantically as if they had been paying attention the whole time.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Severus narrowed his eyes, then shifted his sharp gaze to her.

Y/N only gave him an innocent smile.

With an exasperated sigh, Severus turned away, resuming his usual rounds through the classroom.

The moment he was far enough away, the students subtly turned back toward her.

“So?” one of them whispered eagerly.

Y/N smirked. “Where was I?”

“You were walking home,” Hermione reminded her.

“Right,” Y/N said. “So, I was walking home after my shift, and I found Severus lying in an alley.”

Gasps.

“An alley?” Ron whispered in horror.

Y/N nodded. “He looked like a homeless man.”

That was too much. A few students actually gasped again, while others smacked their hands over their mouths to stifle laughter.

“Wait—so, what did you do?” Dean asked, his eyes wide.

“I went to help him, of course! He was hurt. I assumed he was a regular person, and I’m a nurse—I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“So, you had no idea he was a wizard?”

“None at all,” Y/N confirmed. “He was just some grumpy, half-conscious man bleeding on the pavement.”

Seamus covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

A Ravenclaw girl raised her hand slightly. “And… what happened next?”

Y/N smirked. “I patched him up, brought him home, and he tried to be all moody and mysterious about it. But I wasn’t having it. He was injured, so I made him stay.”

The students listened, completely enthralled.

“What did he say?”

“He mostly just glared at me.”

“Did he at least say thank you?”

Y/N snorted. “Of course not. But, eventually, I found out he wasn’t just some random man. He was—well, him. And, for some reason, he kept coming back.”

“And now you’re married,” a Hufflepuff boy said in amazement.

Y/N smiled. “Crazy how life works, huh?”

The students exchanged looks, still struggling to comprehend this new reality.

Before any of them could ask more, Severus’s voice cut through the air.

“Get back to work.”

The students instantly snapped to attention, scrambling to focus on their cauldrons.

Y/N bit her lip, glancing toward Severus. He was giving her a very pointed look, his dark eyes filled with something between exasperation and why did I let you come here?

She only winked.

Severus inhaled slowly through his nose, then turned away, resuming his lecture.

The moment he wasn’t looking, one of the students whispered, “You have to come to every class.”

Y/N grinned.

After the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, the students took their time packing up their things. Usually, they were eager to escape the dungeon and their intimidating Potions Master, but today, they lingered.

They weren’t ready to say goodbye to Y/N just yet.

“That was the best Potions lesson I’ve ever had,” Ron muttered to Harry as they gathered their books.

Harry nodded in agreement. “Who knew Snape’s wife would be so cool?”

Meanwhile, a group of students had gathered around Y/N’s desk, talking to her in hushed, excited voices.

“You have to come back,” Seamus insisted.

“Yes! Please?” a Ravenclaw girl pleaded.

Y/N laughed. “I don’t think Severus will allow it.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “It’s educational, isn’t it? Learning about Muggle medicine? I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would approve.”

Several students nodded eagerly.

Y/N smirked, glancing toward Severus, who was currently rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

“You’re being dramatic,” Y/N teased, standing from her seat. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

Severus gave her an unimpressed look. “For whom?”

“The students loved her,” Dean interjected. “Honestly, sir, she should come to every lesson.”

Severus fixed him with a cold stare. “Would you all prefer detention?”

Silence.

Dean shrank back slightly. “…Noted.”

Severus exhaled, clearly exhausted, and turned to Y/N. “Come. We’re leaving.”

Y/N grinned, then turned back to the students, who still looked hopeful.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see,” she said.

A chorus of disappointed groans followed.

“Please?” a Hufflepuff girl begged. “Even just one more time?”

Y/N gave her a knowing look. “I doubt it will be just one more time.”

“Exactly,” Seamus said. “That’s why you might as well keep coming back!”

Y/N chuckled.

Severus, however, was at his limit. He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door. “Enough. We are leaving.”

Y/N let herself be led away, throwing a final wave to the students as they called after her:

“She’s coming back, right?”

“She has to!”

“She makes you bearable, sir!”

That last comment made Severus stop in his tracks.

The students froze.

Very slowly, Severus turned his head toward the direction of the voice.

Silence.

Then—

“GO.”

The students scattered, grabbing their things and rushing out of the dungeon in a chaotic blur.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer.

“You love them,” she teased, squeezing his hand.

“I loathe them,” Severus corrected, his voice dripping with irritation.

Y/N only smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but Y/N didn’t miss the faint pink dusting his ears.

Oh yes.

She was definitely coming back.

[thatfatbitxch]

Snape’s Not so Secret Admirer

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Y/n is a new professor at hogwarts. She’s always smiling at Snape and always stumbling on her words when they talk, often caught day dreaming. Snape just thinks she’s dumb doesn’t think much . One morning at breakfast snape was curious about her and went into her mind to learn a little bit about

Warnings: subtle sexual innuendos 

Masterlist

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Severus Snape prided himself on being an observant man. It was a necessary skill for him. So, when the new professor arrived—Professor Y/N—he was quick to assess her.

She was young, bright-eyed, and entirely too cheerful for his taste. She smiled too much, stumbled over her words whenever they spoke, and seemed to have the attention span of a particularly dim-witted Hufflepuff. He had already dismissed her as just another incompetent hire, someone who would be gone within the year, unable to handle the pressure of teaching at Hogwarts.

Y/N had arrived at the start of the term to teach Charms, and Snape had dismissed her almost immediately. Too young, too bright-eyed, too smiley. She was not suited for Hogwarts, and he had no doubt she would crumble under the weight of her responsibilities within the year.

Yet, much to his irritation, she remained.

And worse, she seemed utterly fixated on him. He couldn’t figure out why.

Every time their paths crossed, she would fumble her words, looking at him with wide, dazed eyes as though caught in some sort of trance. Her smiles were ever-present, unshaken by his cold demeanor, and she had a habit of staring at him for entirely too long during meals.

At first, he assumed she was simply intimidated by him—a common enough reaction from new staff. But that didn’t explain the dreamy looks, the flustered stammering, or the way she seemed utterly absorbed in her thoughts whenever he caught her unguarded.

And so, on a particularly mundane morning in the Great Hall, he made an uncharacteristically reckless decision.

It started as an absentminded observation—his gaze flickering toward her as she sat a few seats down, absently stirring her cereal. Her lips were slightly parted, her brow faintly furrowed as though lost in thought.

What on earth is going through that empty little head of hers?

Without truly meaning to, Snape let down his mental barriers and reached out with Legilimency, brushing the surface of her mind with practiced ease. A quick glimpse. A harmless curiosity.

He regretted it instantly.

The images flooded in at once, vivid and startling in their intensity. Him.

Not as he was now, stiff and scowling at the breakfast table, but him in the dim candlelight of her quarters, his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips ghosting over her throat.

Her mind was an unchecked storm of want, filled with fragmented, breathless thoughts—

His hands would be rough, but careful—

I wonder what he’d sound like if I—

What would his lips feel like pressed against my neck, claiming me as his—

Gods, last night—

Snape’s breath hitched.

The scene shifted, and suddenly, it wasn’t just idle fantasy—it was memory.

A replay of the night before.

Y/N was in her bed, twisted in her sheets, her skin flushed with heat. She was gasping softly, her body arching as she whispered his name—his name—into the quiet of her room.

Snape choked.

The taste of tea turned acrid as it went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed violently, drawing the attention of the entire staff table.

Minerva glanced at him in mild concern, while Dumbledore’s ever-twinkling gaze lingered just a moment too long.

Y/N turned toward him as well, blinking in surprise. “Professor Snape? Are you alright?”

Her voice was too sweet, too innocent, too unknowing of the absolute carnage she had just unleashed upon his mind.

Snape wrenched himself back into the present, setting his cup down with a shaking hand. He forced himself to nod, his throat still burning. “Fine,” he managed hoarsely.

She smiled at him—of course she did—her cheeks tinged pink.

The very sight of her now felt different, dangerous, attractive almost. She had no idea what he had seen, no idea that her most intimate thoughts had just seared themselves into his memory.

Severus Snape had survived war, Dark Lords, and years of relentless suffering.

But this?

This was an entirely new kind of torture.

Y/n had a crush on Snape and he didn’t know how to feel.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Y/N’s thoughts still lingered there, unwanted and unshakable. Every time he blinked, he saw flashes of the memory he had glimpsed—her body, flushed and writhing in her bed, his name falling from her lips like a sinful prayer.

It was utterly unacceptable.

She was a colleague.

She was a foolish, starry-eyed girl.

And most importantly, he shouldn’t be so turned on by her.

He would put this entire debacle behind him. He would bury it deep in the recesses of his mind, where it would never see the light of day.

And if she continued to smile at him? If she kept stumbling over her words and looking at him with those wide, adoring eyes?

Well… that was not his problem.

With renewed determination, he pushed open the doors to his classroom, his robes billowing behind him as he strode to the front of the room.

The students immediately quieted.

“Page two hundred and thirteen,” he said curtly, barely glancing at them as he flicked his wand toward the blackboard. “I expect silence.”

For once, his students obeyed without question. The only sound was the rustle of parchment as they flipped to the assigned page.

Good.

This was what he needed—structure, routine, something to ground him.

And then—

“Professor Snape?”

The voice sent a jolt through him, and he knew before even looking up.

Y/N stood in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her, wearing that same flustered, hesitant smile.

Merlin’s bloody beard.

His grip on his quill tightened. Thinking about we he saw in her little mind. “Professor Y/N,” he said smoothly, his voice carefully controlled. “To what do I owe the interruption?”

If she noticed the sharp edge to his tone, she ignored it.

“Oh! I—um—I just needed to borrow something from the potions stores,” she said, shifting on her feet. “If that’s alright?”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Fine,” he bit out. “Make it quick.”

“Of course! Thank you, Professor.”

She practically skipped toward the storeroom, her robes swishing around her ankles as she disappeared behind the shelves.

Snape clenched his jaw, forcing himself to return his focus to his students, though his ears remained attuned to every faint rustle and movement from the storeroom.

It was infuriating.

She was infuriating.

And worst of all—he could still hear her voice from her memories.

Breathless. Desperate.

“Severus…”

His quill snapped in his hand.

Several students jumped at the sudden sound, looking up in alarm.

Snape inhaled sharply, composing himself. He set the broken quill aside, steepling his fingers as he leveled the class with a withering glare.

“Well?” he drawled. “Did I suddenly instruct you all to stare at me like imbeciles instead of completing the assigned reading?”

They hastily returned to their textbooks, not daring to utter a word.

The storeroom door creaked open again, and Y/N reappeared, clutching a small vial of powdered moonstone.

“Got it!” she chirped, giving him a bright smile. “Thanks again, Professor Snape.”

His responding glare was colder than the dungeons themselves.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for a flicker of uncertainty to cross her features—but then she dipped her head and hurried out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Snape exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He needed to get her out of his head.

Immediately.

Because if he didn’t…

He was going to lose his mind.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Severus had very little patience for frivolous conversation.

The Hogwarts staff, unfortunately, did not share his sentiment.

It was late afternoon, and he had just left his classroom, intent on heading to his office for some much-needed solitude. The day had been exhausting—made worse, of course, by her.

Y/N had spent the entire morning unknowingly testing his already frayed nerves. The way she smiled at him. The way she tripped over her words when they spoke. The way she lingered just a second too long when she passed by him in the corridors.

It was intolerable.

He needed distance.

Yet, as he strode past the partially open door of the staff lounge, a familiar voice caught his attention.

Y/N.

He should have ignored it. He should have kept walking, pretended he heard nothing, and continued on with his day.

But then—

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” said a voice he recognized as Professor Sinistra’s. “You have to play. It’s just a silly game.”

“I don’t know…” Y/N sounded hesitant but amused.

“Oh, don’t act innocent. We all know you have opinions,” said Professor Hooch.

Snape frowned, curiosity getting the better of him. He took a silent step closer, positioning himself just outside the doorway.

“What are the options again?” Y/N asked.

“Fuck, Marry, Kill,” Sinistra repeated, barely containing her laughter. “You have to choose one person for each.

Snape’s stomach twisted.

They were playing that game?

He had heard students whispering about it before—some ridiculous, childish activity meant for gossip and nonsense. But for the staff to be engaging in it? It was absurd.

Even so… he didn’t move.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N sighed. “Who are my choices?”

“Well, we thought we’d make it interesting for you,” Hooch said slyly. “So—Lockhart, Snape, and Dumbledore.”

Snape stiffened.

Oh, absolutely not.

There was a moment of silence, and then Y/N groaned dramatically. “Oh, you would pick those three.”

The other professors laughed. “Come on, Y/N. You have to answer,” Sinistra teased.

Snape waited, his jaw clenched.

“Well,” Y/N said slowly, “I think we can all agree that killing Lockhart is the only acceptable option.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

At least she had some standards, Snape thought dryly.

“And?” Sinistra pressed.

Y/N hesitated again, and for a moment, Snape thought—hoped—that she might refuse to answer altogether.

But then—

“…I guess I’d marry Dumbledore?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, he’s wise, powerful, and honestly, I think he’d be really fun to be around. He’s got a great sense of humor,” Y/N reasoned. “I could see myself living a peaceful, happy life married to him.

There was a chorus of laughter. “So that means…”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh. “…I guess I’d fuck Snape.”

Snape felt his entire body go rigid.

The room erupted into laughter and scandalized gasps.

“Oh my God,” Sinistra cackled. “You guess you’d fuck him?”

Y/N was laughing too now. “What?! I mean, come on. Look at the other options! Lockhart? Absolutely not. And Dumbledore? He’s sweet, but—no, I’m not his type.”

“And Snape is your first choice for a fuck?” Hooch teased.

Snape could practically hear Y/N’s blush.

“I mean,” she said hesitantly, “he’s got to be good at something, right?”

The other women howled with laughter.

Snape felt heat rise to his face, an unfamiliar mix of mortification and something far more dangerous curling in his stomach.

“Well, well, well,” Sinistra teased. “Someone has a thing for our dear Potions Master.”

“Shut up!” Y/N groaned, but she was still laughing. “I was just playing the game!”

“Oh, sure you were.”

Snape had heard enough.

He turned on his heel, stalking away from the staff lounge before he could hear anything else.

It should have been infuriating. It was infuriating.

But worst of all—

As he stormed down the hallway, Y/N’s words echoed in his head.

“I guess I’d fuck Snape.”

A dangerous thought, indeed.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Snape had spent his entire life mastering the art of self-control.

It had kept him alive during the war, allowed him to endure years of servitude under both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and, most importantly, it had ensured that no one—not a single person—ever saw what lay beneath the surface.

But this?

This was testing him in ways he had not prepared for.

For days, Y/N’s voice haunted him.

“I’d fuck Snape.”

It echoed through his mind at the most inopportune moments—during meals, in the middle of lectures, when he was grading essays and found himself scrawling across the parchment with unnecessary force.

It was intolerable.

And she wasn’t helping.

Y/N still smiled at him in the halls, still stumbled over her words when they spoke, still lingered just a moment too long when they passed one another.

She had no idea what she had done.

And he—he was coming undone.

That evening, Snape retreated to his classroom, hoping for some semblance of solitude. The dim glow of candlelight flickered over the rows of empty desks, and he inhaled deeply, reveling in the quiet.

He needed this.

Needed to regain control.

Then—

The door creaked open.

He knew who it was before she even spoke.

“Professor Snape?”

His grip on his quill tightened. He didn’t look up. “What is it?”

Y/N hesitated at the threshold, feeling like one of his students. “I—um, I left my book here earlier. For my third-years.”

“Then retrieve it quickly and go.”

Silence.

She didn’t move.

Instead, she shifted on her feet, studying him. “You know,” she said slowly, “you’ve been acting really weird lately.”

Snape continued grading, pretending he wasn’t aware of her every movement. “Your powers of observation astound me.”

She ignored his sarcasm.

“I mean it,” she pressed. “You won’t even look at me.”

He finally glanced up, leveling her with an icy glare. “And yet, here you stand, interrupting my work with baseless observations.”

That should have been the end of it.

But Y/N had never known when to quit.

She exhaled, stepping closer. “I know you’re mad at me.”

Silence.

“Did I do something?”

More silence.

“Severus.”

His jaw clenched at the sound of his name.

Y/N took another step forward, the candlelight casting a warm glow over her face. “Okay, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’m just going to keep guessing.”

Still, he said nothing.

She sighed. “Fine. Is it because I borrowed ingredients from the storeroom without asking? Because I did ask, and you said yes—granted, you looked like you wanted to strangle me, but still.”

Nothing.

“…Did I say something offensive in our last conversation?”

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Is it because of the ‘fuck, marry, kill’ thing?”

Snape froze.

Y/N gasped. “It is!”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh my God, that’s what this is about?”

“It is not about that,” he snapped.

“Oh, it definitely is.” She stepped even closer, tilting her head at him with a slow, teasing smile. “Let me guess—you didn’t like my answer?”

Snape’s hands curled into fists beneath his desk. “I suggest you drop it.”

“Why?” she pressed, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Are you upset that I said I’d marry Dumbledore instead of you?”

His glare could have turned her to stone.

She bit her lip, barely containing her laughter. “Or…” she continued, feigning deep thought, “…are you upset because I said I’d fuck you?”

Snap.

In an instant, Snape was on his feet.

Before she could register what was happening, he had crossed the space between them, backing her against the edge of his desk.

Her breath caught, eyes wide as he loomed over her.

His voice was low, lethal.

“I know exactly the kind of fantasies you have about me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Snape leaned in slightly, the scent of parchment and spice surrounding her. “You think I don’t know?” he murmured, his tone silk and steel. “You think I haven’t seen?”

She swallowed. “S-Seen what?”

His lips curled into a dark smirk.

“Your mind,” he said softly. “It is utterly shameless, Y/N.”

The way he said her name—low, deliberate, dripping with something dangerous—sent a shiver down her spine.

She exhaled shakily. “I—”

But before she could finish, his mouth crashed against hers. He couldn’t help himself.

The kiss was fierce—hot, demanding, filled with frustration and something deeper, something raw.

Y/N gasped against his lips, but she melted into him instantly, her hands gripping the front of his robes, pulling him closer.

Snape groaned against her mouth, his hands finding her waist, gripping tightly as if he was losing himself. He should be liking this so much.

For weeks, she had smiled at him. Teased him. Dreamed of him.

And now, here he was—kissing her like he had been on the edge of breaking for far too long.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing hard, the space between them charged with unspoken words.

Snape’s dark eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable.

Y/N blinked up at him, lips still parted, utterly dazed.

“…Well,” she breathed. “That escalated quickly.”

Snape groaned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Merlin, shut up.”

Y/N just grinned—and pulled him back in for another kiss

[thatfatbitxch]

Field trip

Pairing: Severus Snape x Prof!reader

Word count: 4,400

Summary: Y/N and Snape have been secretly seeing each other for months, keeping their relationship under wraps. When a field trip to the Muggle world is planned, Y/N convinces Snape to join her. As the trip unfolds, their secret becomes harder to hide.

Note: I had a dream about this and decided to write about it because I thought it would be fun. Not sure if I like it or not yet but oh well. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: subtle sexual innuendos

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The dim candlelight flickered against the stone walls of the dungeons, casting long shadows across Severus Snape’s private quarters. Outside, the castle was silent—everyone asleep in their beds, unaware of the secrets unfolding beneath them.

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be here.

She was supposed to be in her own chambers, sleeping like the rest of the professors, preparing for the staff meeting in the morning. Instead, she was sitting on Snape’s desk, wearing his shirt, watching as he paced across the room. His usual composed expression was intact, but she could tell he was annoyed—though whether it was at her or himself, she wasn’t sure.

“You’re scheming,” he muttered, not bothering to look at her.

Y/N smirked, swinging her legs idly. “Me? I would never.”

Snape shot her a pointed look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

She stretched her arms lazily, letting his oversized shirt fall off one shoulder as she tilted her head. “Fine, you got me. I do need something.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course you do.”

Y/N hopped off the desk and closed the space between them, sliding her hands up his chest. “I want to take some of the seventh-years on a trip,” she said sweetly.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“And I don’t need to.”

She pouted, leaning up to brush her lips against his jaw. “I want to take them to the Muggle world,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “A few days to experience Muggle life before they graduate.”

Snape scoffed. “How utterly foolish.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Some of them want to live in the Muggle world after Hogwarts. Would it kill you to be supportive?”

Snape didn’t answer, though his expression was one of clear disapproval.

She pouted. “You don’t even know where yet.”

Snape scoffed. “I assure you, that is not my concern.”

She stepped even closer, pressing against him, her lips barely brushing his as she whispered, “I need another professor to come with me.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Y/n tilted her head, trailing her fingers down his torso before slipping her hands beneath the waistband of his trousers. He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her hips.

“You’re manipulative,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“I’m resourceful.” She kissed him again, slowly, deeply, until she felt him relax beneath her touch. When she pulled away, she smiled triumphantly. “So, you’ll come?”

His grip on her waist tightened. “You infuriate me.”

“But?”

Snape sighed heavily, his forehead resting against hers for a brief moment. “If I agree to this ridiculous excursion… I expect compensation.”

Y/n smirked. “I think we can arrange something.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The next morning, Y/N sat in the Hogwarts staffroom, confidently addressing the gathered professors.

“I’d like to propose a trip for our seventh-year students who are interested in integrating into Muggle society after Hogwarts,” she announced. “It would be a short excursion—just a few days—where they can experience Muggle life firsthand.”

McGonagall pursed her lips. “That would require significant supervision.”

“And resources,” added Flitwick.

“I’ll take care of the arrangements, I have a lot of muggle contacts who are willing to help.” Y/N assured them. “I just need another professor to accompany me.”

Silence.

No one volunteered.

Y/N suppressed a smirk. Perfect.

“Well,” she said, glancing toward the other end of the table where Snape sat with his arms crossed, looking utterly uninterested. “Professor Snape has graciously agreed to accompany me.”

Every head turned toward Snape. His dark eyes snapped to hers, glaring.

“I—”

“Yes, Severus?” McGonagall prompted, amused.

Snape clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the table. Y/N flashed him an innocent smile.

“…Fine,” he bit out.

Y/N beamed. “Excellent.”

As the meeting continued, she leaned back in her chair, feeling his heated gaze burning into the side of her face.

Oh, he hated her right now.

She couldn’t wait for him to get her alone later.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The moment Y/N and her group stepped into the Muggle world, the energy shifted. The students, a mix of excited and nervous seventh-years, looked around in awe as they took in their surroundings—bustling streets, honking cars, and the ever-present hum of Muggle life.

Snape, however, looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

Y/N had chosen a charming little town just outside of London for the trip. It wasn’t overwhelmingly large, but it was busy enough to give the students a proper taste of Muggle life. The cobblestone streets were lined with small cafés, bookstores, and shops, making it the perfect place for them to explore.

Fred and George had been thrilled from the moment they arrived, immediately elbowing each other and whispering about all the “Muggle mischief” they planned to get into. The rest of the students were more cautious, adjusting to the idea that they were, for the next few days, just another group of ordinary young adults.

Snape, meanwhile, stood rigidly by Y/N’s side, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the street as if someone would jump out and hex them at any moment. He had agreed to dress in Muggle clothing—but only if he was allowed to wear all black.

Which meant that, instead of looking like a normal Muggle, he still looked exactly like himself, just without the billowing robes.

Y/N had tried to convince him to loosen up, even choosing clothes that might make him look a little less… well, Snape-like, but he had refused. So now, he stood in a black wool coat over a black button-up and fitted trousers, looking every bit as menacing as he did at Hogwarts.

“You do realize Muggles don’t usually look like they’re heading to a funeral every day, right?” Y/N teased as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

Snape shot her a glare. “I compromised.”

“If that’s what you call this, sure.” Y/N smirked, tilting her head as she gave him a once-over. “Honestly, if you grew some facial hair, you’d look like John Wick.”

Snape’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Never mind. Muggle reference. But trust me, you’d fit right in as a brooding action hero.”

Snape sneered. “I have no desire to resemble some ridiculous Muggle.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Dark, mysterious, always dressed in black, terrifying yet strangely attractive? You might have more in common than you think.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “If you continue down this line of conversation, I will deduct points.”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “From whom, exactly?”

He hesitated, clearly annoyed by the flaw in his threat. “I’ll find a way.”

Y/N chuckled, falling into step beside him. “Whatever you say, Professor Wick.”

She, on the other hand, had no trouble blending in. She had picked out a casual but stylish outfit—jeans, a cozy sweater, and boots that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Unlike Snape, she actually enjoyed this.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, turning to the students. “Remember, for the next few days, we are Muggles. That means no magic, no talking about Hogwarts, and no trying to pass yourselves off as wizards.”

A few of them nodded seriously, while Fred and George exchanged mischievous grins.

“I mean it,” Y/N added, pointing at them. “Behave.”

“We always behave, Professor,” Fred said, all innocence.

“Yes, impeccably,” George added.

Y/N sighed, knowing full well that was a lie.

Beside her, Snape muttered, “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Relax,” she murmured back. “Try to have a little fun.”

Snape sneered, but before he could argue, Y/N clapped her hands together and gestured toward the street. “Let’s get checked into the inn, and then we’ll go over the itinerary.”

The inn was small and cozy, tucked between a bakery and a bookshop. It had the charm of an old-world Muggle establishment, complete with floral wallpaper and creaky wooden floors.

At the front desk, a kind older woman greeted them with a warm smile. “Welcome! You must be the group I spoke to on the phone.”

“That’s us,” Y/N said, returning the smile. “We have enough rooms for everyone, correct?”

“Of course. Two students per room. And for the professors…?” The woman looked between Y/N and Snape, hesitating.

Before Y/N could answer, Snape spoke in a sharp tone. “Separate rooms.”

The woman blinked at his tone, but nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Y/N fought back a laugh. Snape had spoken way too fast, and it wasn’t lost on Fred and George, who were already whispering behind them.

Once they received their room keys, Y/N turned to the students. “Alright, everyone pair up. Unpack, settle in, and meet back in the lobby in an hour.”

As the students grabbed their keys and headed to their rooms, Fred and George lingered, watching Y/N and Snape with far too much interest

“You two sure do hate each other,” Fred mused.

“Yes,” George nodded. “One might say you despise each other a bit too much.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What exactly are you implying?”

Fred smirked. “Oh, nothing at all.”

Snape leveled them with a dark glare. “Get. To. Your. Room.”

The twins grinned at each other before heading off, whispering as they went.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “They’re onto us.”

Snape scowled. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

Y/N just smiled, reaching over to straighten his collar before heading to her own room.

This trip was going to be very interesting.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Y/N had planned a full day of Muggle activities for the students, and she was absolutely thrilled about it. Snape, on the other hand, looked like he was suffering through some sort of medieval torture.

“Alright, everyone,” Y/N said, clapping her hands together as they stood outside a quaint little café. “We’re starting off with something simple—ordering food and drinks like proper Muggles.”

The students nodded, and Fred elbowed George. “D’you think they have pumpkin juice?”

George grinned. “If not, I suppose we’ll have to survive on whatever it is Muggles drink.”

Snape muttered something under his breath about insufferable Gryffindors.

Y/N ignored him and led the group inside. The café was warm and smelled of coffee and pastries. The students hesitated, unsure of what to order, so Y/N helped them read the menu.

“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” she murmured to Snape as he stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed.

“This is ridiculous,” he hissed back. “I have no interest in—”

“Here’s your coffee, love,” the barista said, handing Y/N her drink.

“Thank you,” she replied with a bright smile before turning to Snape. “What about you? You do drink coffee.”

Snape sneered but muttered, “Black. No sugar.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Shocking.”

He glared at her, but a few minutes later, when the drinks were ready, she was surprised to see Snape hand over the money for hers along with his own.

The students noticed too.

A few of them exchanged glances, and one Ravenclaw, Sophie, raised an eyebrow. “Professor Snape just bought you coffee?”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but Snape beat her to it. “She’ll find some way to make me regret this later,” he drawled, taking a sip of his own drink.

That seemed to satisfy the students, but Sophie still looked suspicious.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The museum was grand, its high ceilings and marble floors giving it an almost regal feel. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement as they entered, the scent of aged books, polished wood, and history filling the air.

“This place is amazing,” she said to the group. “It covers everything from Muggle history to science, but the art section is my personal favorite.”

Snape gave an unimpressed glance at the museum map she held. “Of course it is,” he muttered.

Y/N ignored his sarcasm and turned to the students. “Everyone, take a map. You have an two hours to explore—stay in pairs at the very least. Meet back at the entrance hall when you’re done and remember, no wizard business.”

The students dispersed, some heading toward the history exhibits while others whispered excitedly about the dinosaur skeletons they had glimpsed down another hall.

Y/N, however, had only one destination in mind—the art gallery.

She turned to Snape, grinning. “Come on. You’re going to love this.”

“I highly doubt that,” he replied dryly, but he followed her nonetheless.

The gallery was quiet, filled with soft lighting that made the paintings glow as if they were alive. Y/N inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of oil paint and aged canvas. This was her favorite place in any museum—the heart of human creativity, emotions spilled across canvas in brushstrokes and color.

Snape, predictably, looked bored.

Y/N elbowed him. “Don’t look so miserable. This is beautiful.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s paint on canvas.”

She scoffed. “It’s more than that, and you know it. Look at this one.”

They moved through the gallery together, Y/N eagerly pointing out various styles—Baroque, Impressionism, Realism—while Snape, though reluctant at first, listened with mild curiosity.

When they reached a large abstract piece—a swirl of chaotic brushstrokes in deep reds and blacks—Snape finally spoke up.

“This,” he said flatly, “is absurd.”

Y/N laughed. “It’s abstract expressionism. It’s about emotion rather than realism.”

“It looks like someone accidentally knocked over their paint.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Severus. You understand potions. You know the way different ingredients come together to create something meaningful. It’s the same with art—though if I’m being honest this one isn’t one of my favourites. ”

He exhaled sharply, clearly not convinced, but there was something amused in his gaze.

Y/N smirked. “I bet you’d love the Dark Romanticism section.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Dark Romanticism?”

“Dramatic, brooding, full of suffering and existential dread?” She grinned. “It’s basically you in art form.”

Snape scoffed, but she didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth almost twitched upward.

As they neared the end of the gallery, Y/N reached for a museum guidebook from a nearby shelf. It was heavier than expected, and she awkwardly tried to juggle it alongside her bag and coffee.

Before she could struggle further, Snape effortlessly took her drink and bag from her so she could grab the book.

Y/N blinked up at him smiling in surprise, but before she could say anything—

A student saw.

A Slytherin boy, Adam, was standing a few feet away, watching them with narrowed eyes.

Y/N cleared her throat, taking the book as casually as possible, with little space between then y/n backed up. “Thanks.”

Snape gave a nonchalant shrug, but the damage was done. Adam’s gaze lingered for a moment before he walked off, suspicion evident in his expression.

Y/N sighed. “You’re being too nice.”

Snape smirked slightly, voice low. “Then perhaps I should let you struggle next time.”

“Rude.”

They continued through the gallery, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that their little secret was getting harder to keep.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Their last stop before dinner was a shopping district, where the students had free time to explore Muggle stores.

Y/N and Snape walked together, keeping an eye on everyone, when she noticed something. “Sev, look at this.”

It was a slip of the tongue—she had gotten so used to saying his nickname in private that it just… happened.

Snape froze. The students definitely noticed.

Sophie, ever the observant Ravenclaw, turned around. “Did you just call him Sev?”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It’s just—”

“She’s gotten into the bad habit of calling all the professors nicknames,” Snape cut in smoothly, his tone sharp. “She finds it quite amusing but I don’t enjoy it. I wish you’d stop with that honestly.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes, but before she could question it, Fred and George reappeared, loudly declaring their victory in finding the worst Muggle clothing possible.

The subject was dropped—for now.

But Y/N knew they weren’t done being watched.

And, judging by the barely-there smirk on Snape’s face, he knew it too.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The small Muggle inn was quaint, with narrow hallways and creaky wooden floors. After a long day of navigating Muggle London, the students had finally settled into their rooms for the night, exhausted from walking, shopping, and—most amusingly—watching Snape suffer through every moment of it.

After supper, Y/N had bid the students goodnight, acting every bit the responsible professor. But the moment she was certain everyone was settled, her mind drifted elsewhere.

To him.

It wasn’t unusual for her and Snape to sneak around, stealing moments behind closed doors, but tonight, it felt riskier. The walls were thinner, the students only a few doors down, but the thought of being alone with him—even just for a short while—was irresistible.

So, she waited.

Once the inn had fallen into silence and the hallways were still, she slipped out of her room, her bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. She didn’t bother knocking when she reached Snape’s door—just slipped inside and locked it behind her.

Snape was standing by the small window, his long black coat draped over the chair, his usual scowl in place.

“You’re reckless,” he muttered, though his eyes darkened as they met hers.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. “And yet, you still let me in.”

Snape exhaled slowly, watching her as she moved toward him.

“You looked miserable today,” she teased, reaching up to undo the top button of his crisp black shirt. “I thought I’d come cheer you up.”

His lips quirked. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Her fingers trailed down his chest, undoing another button.

Snape’s hands found her waist, pulling her against him. His breath was warm against her skin as he muttered, “This is a terrible idea.”

Y/N only grinned, tilting her head up to kiss him. His grip on her tightened, his lips rough but eager against hers. The air between them grew heated quickly—her fingers tangling in his hair, his hands wandering lower. He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the door as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Then—

A noise.

Footsteps. Voices.

Y/N froze.

Snape, always sharp, pulled back immediately, his eyes narrowing as he listened.

The voices were muffled but unmistakable.

Fred and George.

They were sneaking out.

Y/N scrambled out of Snape’s grip, nearly tripping as she grabbed her discarded shirt from the floor and yanked it over her head. Snape muttered something about damn Gryffindors as she hastily straightened her clothes.

“You owe me for this,” he murmured, amused despite his annoyance.

Y/N shot him a look before cracking open the door.

Sure enough, Fred and George were tiptoeing down the hallway, whispering excitedly about a late-night Muggle adventure.

Y/N stepped out into the hall. “And where exactly do you two think you’re going?”

The twins froze.

Fred turned first, eyes widening. “Professor Y/N! What are you doing out here?”

George smirked. “More importantly, why are you coming out of his room?”

Y/N’s mind raced. “I—uh—”

“We were… discussing disciplinary measures,” Snape’s smooth voice cut in as he stepped into the doorway behind her.

Fred raised a brow. “In the middle of the night?”

“With the door locked?” George added, grinning.

Y/N forced a sigh. “Yes. Because some of you cannot be trusted not to sneak out.” She folded her arms, trying to appear stern. “Clearly, we were right to be concerned.”

Fred and George exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, this is brilliant,” George said.

“Absolutely brilliant,” Fred agreed.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Go back to bed before I make you have a disciplinary meeting with Snape.”

Fred raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But just so you know—”

George grinned. “We’re definitely telling everyone.”

Y/N groaned as they hurried off down the hall. She turned back to Snape, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well,” she muttered. “That could’ve gone better.”

Snape smirked. “It could have gone much worse.”

Y/N sighed. “I should go before they actually wake up the others.”

She hesitated, glancing at him.

Snape reached for her wrist, pulling her back just enough to press a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Next time,” he murmured, “just ignore them and stay with me.”

Y/N grinned, slipping away.

It was going to be very difficult denying things in the morning.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The last day of the trip had gone surprisingly well. The students had enjoyed their time in the Muggle world, and despite his usual grumbling, Snape had survived it. But as the trip neared its end, Y/N found herself itching for just one last stolen moment alone with him before they returned to Hogwarts.

So, when she caught Snape lingering near the back of the inn entrance, away from the others, she saw her opportunity.

“We have a few minutes before we leave,” she whispered, tugging him into a quiet hallway near an old stairwell.

Snape sighed, but there was no real resistance as he allowed her to press him against the wall. “You are reckless,” he murmured, but his hands were already on her waist.

Y/N smirked. “And yet, you’re still here.”

His lips were on hers before she could tease him further. The kiss was slow, deep, filled with everything they could never say aloud. Y/N melted into him, fingers curling into his robes as his hands slid up her back.

They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

Didn’t hear the whispering.

Didn’t hear the muffled snicker until—

“OH MY GOD.”

Y/N and Snape ripped apart.

Fred and George stood in the doorway, identical expressions of sheer delight plastered on their faces.

“SNAPE HAS A GIRLFRIEND?” Fred practically shouted.

Snape’s face contorted in horror. “Lower your voice!”

George, still grinning, turned to Fred. “This is historic.”

Fred nodded. “This is unbelievable.”

Y/N, still breathless, held up her hands. “This is not what it looks like.”

Fred and George exchanged glances.

“Ohhh, so you weren’t just snogging our professor against a wall?” Fred asked innocently.

“No, no,” George said with mock seriousness. “I’m sure we imagined it.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the twins bolted.

Snape swore under his breath. “They’re going to tell everyone.”

Y/N groaned. “We are so screwed.”

By the time they returned to the group, the damage had already been done.

Every single student was looking at them differently.

Some smirked knowingly. Others whispered to their friends, stealing glances at Snape and Y/N. The buzz of hushed excitement was almost unbearable.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Lee Jordan grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just discussing a very interesting development.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“We’re just curious,” Angelina said, barely holding back a smirk. “Because rumor has it—you and Professor Snape—”

“Are madly in love,” Fred finished dramatically.

Snape made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a strangled groan.

Y/N crossed her arms. “That is ridiculous.”

“Sure,” George said, grinning. “It’s totally normal for two people who hate each other to disappear alone all the time.”

“And for Snape to buy you coffee,” Alicia Spinnet added.

“And to call each other nicknames,” Katie Bell chimed in.

“And to be caught full-on snogging,” Fred finished triumphantly.

The entire group burst into laughter as Y/N felt her face burn.

Snape’s expression darkened. “This is utterly—”

“So how long have you two been secretly dating?” Lee interrupted.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed. “We—we aren’t.”

“Oh, of course not,” George said, grinning. “You just happened to be ‘discussing disciplinary measures’—”

“—with your tongues down each other’s throats,” Fred finished.

The group howled with laughter.

Y/N turned to Snape, wide-eyed. “Do something.”

Snape’s scowl deepened. “Detention. All of you as soon as we get back”

Fred wiped away a fake tear. “Oh, Professor, you wound us.”

Y/N groaned as Fred and George slung their arms around each other and started theatrically re-enacting what they imagined the kiss had looked like.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I loathe them.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

The trip back to Hogwarts was filled with an air of tension, but the awkwardness mostly came from the students’ constant whispering and knowing glances. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of their stares, even though she kept her gaze down, trying to avoid catching anyone’s eye. The train was quiet, save for the occasional murmur of students making theories and comments that were just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Every time she glanced toward Snape, he was staring out the window, his usual scowl in place. But this time, it seemed even more pronounced, as if he was trying to block out everything around him. Y/N’s stomach flipped, the embarrassment of getting caught still fresh on her mind.

Then Fred’s voice broke the tension.

“So, Professor Snape, when’s the wedding?” he called from a few carriages ahead, clearly loud enough for the whole group to hear.

Y/N’s face went beet red, and she quickly dropped her head into her hands, groaning. She could feel the heat of Snape’s stare, but when she looked up, he was still staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging Fred’s comment. He didn’t say anything, but Y/N could see the tightness in his jaw. Despite everything, there was something almost… amused about his reaction. Maybe he didn’t care as much as he seemed to. Y/n was surprised to see snape let them talk to him this way at all.

“Did you make her a love potion?” George added with a mischievous grin, and Y/N could feel Snape’s gaze flicker toward her for a moment, though he didn’t respond.

She couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. The teasing was non-stop, but it wasn’t just the twins—it was the whole group now. The students had their theories, and the awkwardness was palpable. As the carriage trundled on, it seemed like no one could stop themselves from whispering about the unexpected turn of events.

Finally, as they neared Hogwarts, Y/N decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She walked over to Snape, who was still resolutely staring out the window, trying to pretend like he was unaffected.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Y/N said quietly, leaning toward him. “What should we do? This is… a disaster.”

Snape turned to look at her then, his gaze unreadable. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he smirked just a little.

“Nothing. Who cares what they think?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why we were hiding it in the first place.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, and before she could say another word, Snape leaned in and kissed her right in front of the entire carriage. The students, who had been watching from every angle, went absolutely silent. Y/N could feel the shock and surprise from all sides, but she didn’t care.

When they finally pulled apart, she looked at him, a little stunned, but Snape just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well, that should clear up any confusion,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

As they disembarked from the train, the students were whispering among themselves, but this time it didn’t bother Y/N. With Snape by her side, nothing else mattered.

[thatfatbitxch]

The Mirrors Truth

Pairing: Severus x reader

Summary: Severus Snape has always prided himself on control, but when he stumbles upon the Mirror of Erised and sees you by his side, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, he is shaken to his core.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The dungeon halls were empty, the torches flickering low as Severus Snape strode through the corridors, his black robes billowing behind him. His mind was a mess of contradictions—thoughts he had spent weeks trying to suppress, emotions he had no business entertaining.

It was you. Always you.

He had done everything to push you away—cold remarks, dismissive glances, and harsh words meant to cut and wound. And yet, you persisted. You were kind to him, patient, offering warmth where he had only ever known cold. That alone was dangerous. He could not afford to let someone in, not after a lifetime of loss and regret.

And so, as he wandered deeper into the castle, seeking solitude in the quiet depths of Hogwarts, he stumbled upon something unexpected.

The Mirror of Erised.

Snape had seen the mirror before, long ago, but he had never dared to look into it for long. He knew its power, its deception. Dumbledore’s words rang in his mind: “It shows not your face, but your heart’s deepest desire.”

What was left for a man like him to desire? He had spent years convincing himself that he wanted nothing. That he needed nothing.

But before he could turn away, something compelled him to step closer.

The surface of the mirror shimmered, and then—there you were.

Standing beside him.

But this was no ordinary reflection. No, this was something far worse.

The version of you in the mirror was radiant, your expression soft with affection, eyes gazing at him as though he were worth something, as though he were enough. And then, just as he thought the vision couldn’t torment him further, you lifted a gentle hand to his face, brushing his cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss there.

Snape stumbled back. His breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded so loudly that he swore the walls could hear it.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands clenched into fists. “No. This is not real.”

The image did not change. You remained, smiling at him, your warmth unshaken by his denial.

Panic surged through him, thick and suffocating. This was not supposed to happen. He was not supposed to want this.

But his heart, traitorous as it was, had spoken.

With a swift turn, he tore himself away from the mirror, his breathing uneven. He needed to get away, to bury this deep where it could never resurface.

But the problem was—you were not just a figment in a mirror. You were real. And that meant this feeling, this longing, was real too.

And that terrified him more than anything.

The next day, Snape avoided you.

More than usual.

You had grown accustomed to his cold demeanor, but today, it was different. His avoidance was deliberate, almost frantic. He refused to meet your eyes in the halls, his words clipped and impersonal. Even when you lingered around his classroom after his lessons were over, hoping for a rare moment of conversation, he disappeared before you could utter a word.

It wasn’t like him to run.

But Snape was a man at war with himself, and for the first time in years, he was losing.

That night, you found him in the library. He was hunched over a book, his fingers gripping the pages too tightly, as though trying to anchor himself to something solid.

You hesitated before stepping forward. “Professor?”

His shoulders tensed. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, and for the briefest moment, you saw something raw flicker in his dark eyes.

But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. His expression hardened. “You should not be here.”

“I was looking for you,” you admitted, tilting your head. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He let out a sharp breath. “Nonsense.”

“Is it?” You crossed your arms, your tone laced with challenge. “Because it feels like you’re running from something.”

Silence.

His lips pressed into a thin line. You knew better than anyone that Severus Snape was not a man who offered explanations freely, but something in the way he gripped the edge of the desk told you that he was unraveling.

You softened your stance. “Did I do something wrong?”

He flinched. As if the very idea of you blaming yourself pained him.

“No,” he said, too quietly. Then, as if realizing how much he had given away, he pushed back his chair and stood, towering over you. “You should not concern yourself with me.”

You frowned. “That’s not your choice to make.”

His jaw tightened. “It is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, the distant rustle of pages from some students at the far end of the library.

And then, very quietly, he said, “I cannot—”

But he stopped himself, shaking his head as though furious at his own weakness.

You stepped closer. “Can’t what?”

His breath hitched. He looked at you then, truly looked at you, as if searching for something—doubt, hesitation, fear. But there was none. You were simply standing there, waiting for him to tell you what he already knew.

And that was the most terrifying part of all.

He stepped back. “Leave.”

“Severus—”

“I said leave.” His voice was colder now, harsher. A wall slammed down between you. His hands clenched at his sides as though physically restraining himself from reaching out. “Forget this. Forget whatever absurd notions you have.”

You recoiled as if struck. “Is that what you really want?”

He did not answer.

Because if he did, if he said what he truly wanted, it would break him.

And so, with a final glance, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving you standing there, heart aching with something unspoken.

Something unfinished.

But as he disappeared into the shadows, his mind echoed with the memory of the mirror. Of your touch. Of your lips against his cheek.

And he knew, no matter how hard he fought it, that he could not escape you forever.

——————

Severus Snape was a man who prided himself on control.

Control over his emotions, his words, his very existence.

And yet, when he passed by the dimly lit corridor outside the library and saw you sitting on the cold stone bench, your arms wrapped around yourself, your expression drawn with hurt—his resolve cracked.

He told himself to keep walking. To leave you be.

But his feet betrayed him.

He slowed, lingering in the shadows, his heart a traitorous thing in his chest. He had done this. He had pushed you away, thinking it was the right thing, the logical thing. And yet, seeing you like this… It twisted something deep inside him.

He let out a slow, measured breath.

And then, against his better judgment, he spoke.

“You should not waste your tears on me.”

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice but didn’t look up right away. Instead, you exhaled, shaking your head. “I wasn’t crying.”

Liar.

He could hear the weight in your voice, the frustration laced within it. And yet, you sat there, as if waiting for something. As if hoping he would stay.

Foolish girl.

Foolish, stubborn, wonderful girl.

After a long hesitation, he stepped closer, his usual distance forgotten. “You are upset.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You’re very observant, Snape.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He deserved that.

He should have left. He should have walked away and let the silence stand between you as it always had. But something about the way your shoulders slumped, the way your fingers clutched at the fabric of your robes—he couldn’t ignore it.

“…I did not mean to hurt you.” His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. The admission tasted foreign in his mouth, as if he had never uttered such words before.

Your head lifted slightly, your eyes meeting his. “Then why did you?”

His breath hitched. You always did that—forced him to confront things he would rather bury.

For a long moment, he said nothing. He wasn’t sure how.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply and sat beside you on the stone bench.

It was foolish. Reckless. But he did it anyway.

“I find myself…” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He had spent a lifetime swallowing down his feelings, convincing himself they did not matter. That he did not matter. But you had made that impossible.

His fingers curled into a fist on his lap. “I find myself drawn to you. More than I should be.”

You stilled.

The world around you seemed to quiet. The distant footsteps of students, the flickering of torches—it all faded.

It took you a moment to process his words, as if you weren’t sure you had heard them correctly. “…More than you should be?”

He clenched his jaw. “It is wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because I am not the kind of man you should want.” His voice was sharp, almost angry—but not at you. At himself.

You studied him for a long moment, your gaze searching his as if trying to find the truth hidden beneath all that self-loathing.

And then, softly, you said, “I think you let yourself believe that.”

He turned away, his black eyes staring at the opposite wall. He could not bear to look at you, not when you said things like that. Not when you saw something in him that he could not.

“…I have spent years ensuring that no one gets close to me,” he admitted, voice low. “And yet, despite my best efforts, you…” He exhaled sharply. “You refuse to be pushed away.”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe I just see something worth staying for.”

His breath faltered.

For a moment, he forgot how to speak, how to move, how to exist.

And then, you leaned in slightly, not enough to scare him away, but enough to make sure he couldn’t avoid your gaze. “I’ve always had a thing for you, you know,” you admitted with a small, nervous laugh. “Even though I never quite understood why.”

His heart lurched.

His fingers twitched as if tempted to reach for you, to pull you closer, to let himself have something for once in his life. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he shook his head, though there was no real conviction in it. “You are too young. Too kind. Too—”

“Too what?” You tilted your head. “Too willing to care about you? And five years younger at that.”

He flinched.

You weren’t supposed to say things like that. You weren’t supposed to make it so damn difficult to pretend he didn’t feel the same way.

Silence stretched between you. And then, before he could stop himself, he murmured, “You deserve more.”

You smiled. It was soft. Genuine. “Maybe you do, too.”

Severus swallowed hard. His walls were crumbling, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to let them fall completely.

But for the first time in his life, he wondered…

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

The silence between you was thick, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. Snape’s breathing was uneven, his dark eyes searching yours as if looking for a way out of this—out of you.

But there was no escape.

Not when his heart was racing. Not when your words still lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a spell he could not break.

Maybe you do, too.

Your voice echoed in his mind, soft yet powerful, tearing down every excuse he had built to keep you at arm’s length.

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides as if restraining himself from reaching for you. But then—slowly, hesitantly—you lifted a hand to his cheek, your touch featherlight, just as it had been in the mirror.

He froze.

It was barely a touch, yet it set his entire body alight with something foreign and overwhelming. He should pull away. He should stop this. But he didn’t. Instead, he let himself lean into your palm—just slightly, just enough to betray everything he had been trying to suppress.

Your lips parted as if to say something, but before you could, Snape did what he never thought he would have the courage to do.

He closed the space between you.

The kiss was hesitant at first, as if he didn’t quite believe he was allowed this, as if he expected you to pull away at any moment. But you didn’t. Instead, you melted into him, your hands slipping to his collar, your fingers curling into the fabric as if anchoring yourself to him. And that was his undoing. A low, desperate sound rumbled in his throat as he deepened the kiss, one hand moving to cup your jaw, the other sliding to your waist. He kissed you like he had spent years denying himself this—because he had.

You gasped softly at the intensity, and he almost pulled back—almost. But then you pressed closer, your fingers tangling in his robes, and whatever restraint he had left shattered.

He poured everything into the kiss—his longing, his frustration, his fear. Every moment he had spent fighting this, every time he had told himself he shouldn’t, couldn’t,—it was all meaningless now. Because you were here, kissing him like he was something—like he was worth it.

And Merlin help him, but he wanted more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, his grip on you still firm, as if afraid you might disappear.

Your lips were slightly swollen, your eyes bright, and when you whispered his name—Severus—in that soft, breathless way, he closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“This is dangerous,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

You smiled. “I don’t care.”

His lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile back, but instead, he sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“…Neither do I.”