Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s no way to explain it that doesn’t make you sound like a little bit of a menace.

The Great Hall was unusually loud for a Tuesday morning. Until the music started.

The enchanted ceiling cracked with the sudden sound of a Muggle rock anthem—loud, brazen, impossible to ignore.

Heads turned. Whispers rippled. And then… you appeared.

Strutting through the wide double doors of the Great Hall like it was your personal stage, flanked by your closest friends— Leona, Cassie and Nyra your self-declared girl gang, clad in regulation robes but every inch of you radiating mischief.

You climbed up onto the Gryffindor table without hesitation, flicking your wand once to amplify the song even louder. A grin stretched across your face, wild and unapologetic. And then, to the collective horror and awe of half the students… you started dancing. Giving the performance of your life.

Gasps rang out. Some boys cheered. Sirius Black nearly choked on his toast. Professor McGonagall stood up so fast her chair scraped back with a screech.

Boots on the bench, wand to your throat, charm amplifying your voice as you belt out the chorus.

Your ride-or-die girl gang are doubled over with laughter cheering you on. McGonagall looks like she’s about to pass out from sheer disapproval.

You finish the chorus with a dramatic spin and land with a bow. The clatter of applause and groans is delicious.

“Miss (Y/L) Get down this instant!” McGonagall hisses, striding toward you.

You leapt down before McGonagall could storm her way  completely over, laughing with your friends as you bolted toward the corridor, robes flying behind you. McGonagall shouted your name, but you just waved over your shoulder and disappeared.

You’ve always been a little too much for other people—too loud, too talented, too unbothered by what anyone thinks of you. That’s why your group fits together like a beautifully chaotic puzzle. Slytherins, every one of you,  you all met on your first year when placed into the same Dorm room. 

Leona was bold and no matter where she went she looked flawlessly glammed up which made people often forget just how fiercely protective she is of her Friends.

Cassie loved to be dramatic and no boy was safe from her constant flirting.

Nyra is the quietest of them you all but if you gave her a reason she would hex anyone or anything that moved.

People would not describe any of you as the typical Slytherin girls but more like… glitter-covered snakes with sharp eyeliner and sharper wands.

The thrill of that morning still buzzed in your blood as you strolled the corridor toward the library. Detention was given by McGonagall after she finally caught up to you but it had been worth it. You hadn’t seen the looks on everyone’s faces, but you had caught one.

Severus Snape.

The way he stared at you like he’d never seen a girl stand on a table before… priceless. Despite how others thought about him you always found him interesting and kind of cute. You smirked to yourself but then, as you turned the corner, voices carried down the hall—sharp, smug, and all too familiar.

The Marauders.

James Potter is grinning that smug, punchable grin. Sirius Black shoves Severus back against a stone pillar. Pettigrew laughs. Lupin is watching, not helping.

“Do you even wash that hair, Snivellus?” James Potter’s voice rang out first, thick with the usual blend of mockery and entitlement. Something crashed—books, maybe and Severus didn’t answer.

He was still pressed against the stone wall, shoulders tight, arms curled in close. Potter stood before him, wand lazily pointed his way. Sirius Black flanked him, lounging like it was a picnic rather than a public humiliation. Remus Lupin leaned against the wall nearby, eyes flicking away uncomfortably, while Peter Pettigrew, of course, giggled like a squirrel on fire. Your voice rang out like a whipcrack down the corridor. Sharp. Unafraid.

“Well, this looks like a deeply pathetic circle of Jerks. What is this? Humiliate-Someone-Smarter-Than-You Day?”

James blinks and turns to look at you. “What?”

“Sorry,” you said, voice sweet and venomous. “Was this supposed to be private? You seemed so desperate for an audience I assumed it was some sort of tragic performance.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you mind your business, sweetheart?”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Funny. Seeing you bullying someone who isn’t even talking is my business.”

Sirius straightened. “He’s not exactly innocent—”

“Neither are you,” you snapped, stepping closer. “But at least he’s not hiding behind a pureblood name like it’s a golden ticket. Or is that all you are, Black? A family disappointment with good cheekbones?”

There was a pause.

Even Remus looked mildly impressed.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Sirius muttered.

“And a wand to back it up,” you said coolly. “Want to test it?”

James glared at you getting more and more frustrated. “He was asking for it!”

You raised a brow. “Was he? Did he politely request to be cornered and hexed today, or was that just the delusion you whispered to yourself in the mirror this morning?”

Finally, James scoffed. “You’re defending Snape? Merlin, I didn’t realize you were into dark, greasy types.”

“I’m into people with brains,” you replied sharply. “So I’m definitely not into you.”

Remus stepped in before it could escalate. “Alright, alright. Let’s all relax.”

You turned your back to them without hesitation and looked over your shoulder once. “Next time you want to feel powerful, go work out or something instead being bullies.”

Without waiting for an reply you walked away. All that followed were just quiet footsteps trailing yours down the corridor and into the library.

The library was quiet — the kind of stillness that made even turning pages feel too loud. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long golden bars across the floor and shelves. The smell of parchment and old ink lingered, comforting and familiar.

You took a seat near the back, pulling out your Homework from your bag like you hadn’t just verbally eviscerated two of the most popular boys at Hogwarts.

Severus stood there a second longer, until you looked up and arched an eyebrow.

“You going to sit or just keep staring?” you asked, a little smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

You didn’t wait for a reply before going back to focus on your homework, then softly the chair was pulled back and Severus Snape sat across from you, a book open in front of him.

You had your transfiguration essay half way done when you noticed. His dark eyes flicked toward you every so often, quickly looking back down if you caught him.

Which you did. Every single time.

And now… you were curious.

He wasn’t like anyone you knew. There was something razor-sharp about him. Like he was always bracing for a blow that might never come. But he watched everything — read people in a way that made you feel like he saw things others didn’t.

Finally, you dropped your quill and leaned back in your chair.

“Are you going to sit there all afternoon staring at me,” you asked with a lazy smirk, “or are you planning to hex me eventually?”

His head jerked up slightly, startled — just for a second. Then his eyes narrowed, and he looked away.

“I wasn’t staring,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, chin resting in your hand. “Right. You’ve just developed a sudden interest in staring into space directly over my left shoulder.”

He stiffened but didn’t argue.

You tilted your head. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Mm, not like this.” You tapped your fingers on the table. “You’re acting like someone threw you into the common room during Yule Ball prep and told you to compliment everyone’s dresses.”

That made his lip twitch — just slightly. Not quite a smile, but close.

You grinned. “There it is.”

“There what?”

“Emotion. A whole one.”

His eyes flicked toward you, dark and unreadable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Frequently,” you said, unbothered. “But also charming. You’ll learn.”

He looked down again, but you saw the faint flush of red in his ears.

A pause.

Then—quietly—he said, “Why did you do it?”

Your fingers stopped tapping. “Do what?”

“In the corridor. With them.”

You shrugged. “Because they’re pricks.”

“That didn’t stop anyone else.”

You studied him for a moment. He wasn’t looking at you now. His eyes were fixed on the table. His voice wasn’t bitter — just… curious. Cautious.

Like he didn’t understand.

“Maybe I don’t like seeing people kicked while they’re already down,” you said softly. “And maybe… I think you’re smarter than all four of them combined. So why let them think they’re better?”

His gaze lifted slowly, meeting yours.

And there it was — the beginning of something.

Not quite friendship. Not yet. But the first thread of understanding. A flicker of interest.

“You’re not like the others,” he said after a moment.

“Thank Merlin for that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

And that was the very First time you talked to Severus Snape.

Chapter Text

You’re running late to Potions, boots echoing down the corridor as you curse the staircases for conspiring against you. Slughorn is already pairing people off when you burst in, windswept and unapologetic.

“Ah, Miss (Y/L/N),” he says, “you’ll be with Mr. Snape today.”

You freeze for half a second.

Your eyes flick to the station by the far cauldron. Severus is already looking at you.

You flash him a slow, deliberate grin and strut over.

“Room for one chaos gremlin?” you ask, sliding your bag down beside his.

“You’re late,” he says flatly.

“And you’re observant,” you shoot back.

His lips twitch. The faintest hint of a smirk. You count it as a win. 

You work well together.

He’s precise, methodical, deadly efficient. You’re instinctual, chaotic, somehow always right even when you don’t measure. The cauldron sings under your combined hands.

“I didn’t think you’d be so good at this,” he mutters as you stir clockwise three times, counterclockwise once.

“Because I wear glitter and cause mayhem?”

„Yes and you don’t seems as if you care about anything other creating chaos.”

You glance up. “I also created a non-lethal stun elixir in third year for fun. Just because I wear lip gloss doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe it—but also like he wants to.

While most other pairs fumbled with their instructions or argued over who mismeasured the dittany, you and Severus were already on step four, your cauldron simmering a perfect amethyst.

“You’re good at this,” you said under your breath, watching the way his hands moved — steady, assured. “Really good.”

He shrugged. “It makes sense.”

“What does?”

He glanced at you. “Potions. They follow rules. Logic. Patterns. People... don’t.”

You looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. “Still. You’ve got a talent.”

“You’re good at this too.”

You let out a laugh. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then: “It was.”

Something warm stirred in your chest.

Professor Slughorn meandered over, beaming. “Ah, wonderful work, you two! I daresay this might be the best brew of the day. Well done!”

You and Severus exchanged a quick glance, pride flickering between you.

As Slughorn waddled away, you leaned a little closer and whispered, “Not bad, partner.”

Severus didn’t answer right away. But then, quietly: “We were a good team.”

You blinked, surprised — not by the words, but by how gently he’d said them.

Something in his tone made you glance at him differently. Not as the boy you’d defended in a corridor.

But as someone who — perhaps — had begun to see you as something more than chaos and clever comebacks.

The moment hung between you like steam above the cauldron. Warm. Brief. 

Unspoken.

From that day on you both always worked together in Potions.

Later that week, you find him in the library. Hidden in a corner, a healing book open beside him, his lip freshly split.

“Them again?” you say, sliding into the seat across from him.

He doesn’t answer. Just lowers his head.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out a small tin. “Let me?”

He stiffens.

“I’ve seen worse. Leona once walked in with a broken wrist and tried to flirt with the mirror.”

That earns you a quiet huff of breath. Not quite a laugh.

You reach over gently, fingers tipping his chin. Your thumb brushes over the cut with salve. His skin is cold. He doesn’t move.

“There,” you say softly. “Better.”

He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t thank you either.

But when your pinky brushes his knuckles as you lean back, he doesn’t pull away.

Chapter Text

Defence Against the Dark Arts had never exactly been your favorite subject—mainly because the professors changed more often than the portraits in the corridors. But today's lesson promised something a little different. Something personal.

"Boggarts," the professor announced, clasping his hands together. "Shape-shifters that take the form of your worst fear. But remember, laughter is your weapon. Let it see joy where it expects dread.“

The class buzzed with anticipation, students whispering guesses about what they'd see. 

You leaned forward in your seat and tapped Severus lightly on his shoulder to get his attention. “Wanna bet yours is a cauldron exploding due to someone else’s incompetence?”

He snorted—barely, but it was there. “Yours is probably being forced to wear your uniform properly.”

You grinned. “Terrifying.”

The wardrobe in the center of the room rattled ominously.

Laughter scattered through the room—Gryffindors mostly. Potter, Black, and their loyal shadows. You, however sat half-sideways on your chair, one knee drawn up, your chin resting on it, wand spinning between your fingers. Casual. Detached. 

“So let’s show it what fools we are not. Please all form a line”

Everyone was eager to get up and in line but you and Severus stood toward the back. You watch how his arms crossed tightly over his chest as Professor paced in front of the class, his wand tapping sharply against the wardrobe that groaned with movement from within before opening the door.

It moved quickly One by one, students were walking forward. Shrieks and laughter followed—giant spiders, failing exams, even McGonagall yelling about homework. Each boggart was dealt with and returned to the wardrobe, waiting.

„Mr. Snape you are next.“

You watched him walk slowly to the front, his shoulders squared but tight. 

The wardrobe creaked open. In a breath, the room turned cold. A werewolf came out, Tall, gray, snarling, mouth dripping and the yellow eyes glowing.

Its eyes locked with Severus and he wasn’t moving.

You heard laughter at his reaction, heard Black’s bark of amusement, Potter’s snort.

And then—

“Get back.”

Before the professor could speak, you moved.

You stepped between him and the creature without pause. The Boggart paused… shimmered and then it changed.

Your blood ran cold.

Your parents stood there. Their faces twisted in disapproval. Your father’s voice thundered: “You are a true disappointment! A mistake!.” 

Your mother’s echoed after: “ You can’t do anything right! You are a disgrace to the family name.”

The class went silent. No one laughed.

They circled you slowly.

“Disgraceful.”

“A failure.”

“You will never be enough.”

No one dared to speak or even breathe even the professor seemed to be frozen in place but you didn’t move, didn’t flinch you just stood there, stiff silent until suddenly to everyones surprise and horror:

You laughed.

A sharp, raw sound that broke through the air like glass cracking under weight.

“That’s all you’ve got?” you said with a bitter grin. “Just the same bloody lines, over and over?”

The Boggart paused. That seemed to pull the Professor back into reality, who stepped forward quickly, his wand raised. A shimmer of light, and the creature was sucked back into the wardrobe with a snap.

But you were already walking toward the door not looking back.

Your laughter echoed behind you as if it wasn’t quite done.

The class was still dead silent.

The DADA professor cleared his throat. “Well. That will be… enough for today. Class Dismissed.”

You kept walking down the corridors until you reached the greenhouse and sit behind the Greenhouse tree and curled up on yourself and just started crying.

Thats how twenty minutes later Severus found you. You sat with your back against the stone wall, knees pulled to your chest, your robe wrapped tightly around you. Your wand was forgotten in the grass beside you. 

The tears were gone but the red eyes were there and he would know what happened.

Without saying a word he stepped over the roots and sat beside you. Not close but also not to far.

You didn’t look at him.

But after a moment, you spoke, voice thick, “They always say the same thing, you know. Every single time. Even when it’s not them. Even when it’s just a shadow wearing their face.”

Severus didn’t reply but he didn’t need to. You could see how he was slightly turned towards you. Listening.

“I hate that it still gets to me.” Your knuckles were white where they gripped your robe. “I hate that I laughed and I hate that it’s true.”

“It’s not,”

He said nothing more but weirdly enough those two words were enough.

 You let out a slow breath „I guess now you know the secret. I’m not actually made of steel and sarcasm.“ Severus tilted his head. 

“You didn’t have to be made of anything.”

You turned to him then, studying his face. The boy who had once seemed to belong to the shadows. Now sitting beside you, and comforting you.

“You’re not bad company, Snape.”

And for the first time since you’d met, there was no teasing. No smirk. No chaos in your voice.

You didn’t tell him to leave so he didn’t.

After a long silence, you spoke, voice low.

“That was really humiliating.”

“Maybe you have forgotten that you were the one who stormed into the Great Hall dancing on a table to a blaring a Muggle song. I think you are way past humiliating“ 

That pulled a soft laugh 

from you. “I was wondering when you’d mention that that was actually brilliant of me”

You both sat there, under the weak spring sun, the greenhouse glass casting mottled shadows across your shoes.

And in the quiet, something wordless passed between you.

After that you started to notice him more and more around Like he was almost following you every where you went.

In the corridor between classes. In the corner of the common room while your girl gang paints their nails and talks far too loudly about who’s shagging who. In the library, sitting two tables away but always… aware of you.

At first, you think it’s coincidence.

But then it becomes a pattern.

And you are so not the type to let that slide.

One afternoon, you whirl around in the corridor, catching him mid-step behind you.

“Severus Snape,” you say, arms crossed, “are you following me?”

He looks like he’s been caught stealing something forbidden. “No…?”

“Really? Because I could’ve sworn I saw you in the Astronomy corridor yesterday. And outside the greenhouse. And conveniently at the same bookshelf I needed in the library.”

He glares at you but it doesn’t affect you much. “It’s a public school.”

You grin. “So you are following me!”

He turns to leave.

You catch his sleeve before he can.

“I don’t mind,” you say, a little softer. “Just so you know.” 

Before turning around and just walking away from him.

Chapter Text

By the time the week ends, your friends have noticed.

You’re draped across the couch in the common room, Leona painting your nails, when she says casually, “So. Are you collecting strays now?”

You arch a brow. “Excuse me?”

She nods toward the far corner of the common room. Severus sits, half-shadowed, pretending to read. But his eyes flick up every few seconds—always toward you.

“Snape,” says Cassie, flopping beside you, “has been lurking.”

“He’s not lurking,” you reply. “He’s observing.”

“He’s brooding.”

“He’s interesting.”

Leona raises a brow. “Do you like him?”

You pause. “Not… not like that.”

“Not yet,” Cassie sings.

You toss a pillow at her face. She cackles.

„No need to become violent we all know you like them Tall, Dark and Mooody besides he actually is cute in a way I would totally try get a piece of that“ Nyra’s voice rang out into your little circle which made all of you howl with laughter.

It started with a bruise. A deep one, on the side of Severus’s jaw — blooming like dark ink beneath his skin. He didn’t mention it when you spotted him in the corridor the next morning. He didn’t flinch, didn’t avoid your gaze. He just kept walking, head low, like nothing was out of the ordinary but you weren’t just anyone anymore. You noticed.

You found him sitting by the lake during lunch, tucked beneath the arms of the willow tree where few dared to go. His fingers were curled in the grass. Silent. Still.

You dropped onto the ground beside him without asking and pulled out a healing salve from your bag and reached up to apply it to the bruise.

“Which one was it?”

He didn’t look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but at you. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me Snape they are hurting you”

He exhaled slowly, jaw tense. You were quiet for a moment. Then you pulled a wrapped toffee from your robe pocket and handed it to him.

He stared at it. “You’re bribing me with sweets?”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a good start.”

A breath of something that almost resembled a laugh left him, and he took it. You watched him unwrap it, roll the golden wrapper between his fingers.

After that it nearly became a daily thing. Severus would show up with new bruises and you would apply the salve and give him a toffee afterwards.

The bullying had gotten worse. It wasn't just James Potter anymore. Sirius Black had started chiming in more, loud and laughing as if cruelty was a joke. Even some of the students who used to stay quiet had started making comments.

And Severus — Merlin, he didn’t even fight back.

He just… stood there.

Took it with his hand clutched at his side looking down at the floor.

Once, you saw James hex his bag to explode with ink in front of everyone. Severus had just picked it up silently while the Marauders laughed. You watched it happen — lips pressed into a tight line.

But then one afternoon Severus doesn’t show up to Class which makes you just walk out of class and go look for him.

You find Severus behind the greenhouses after class his lip split and blood tricking down his nose. Wand arm shaking, hair half out of place. He looks like hell. 

You don’t even ask this time who it was, just grabbing his hand.

“I’m bringing you somewhere,” you said casually. “You don’t get to say no.”

That made him glance sideways.

He stiffens when you drag him through the common room. “Where are we—?”

“My dorm,” you say simply.

“You—what?”

But you have already dragged him along.

Your dorm room in Slytherin House was loud. Not in sound, but in presence.

Pillows were thrown on the floor. Posters were spelled to move. Candles floated midair. There was a faint smell of cinnamon and ink and the stubborn perfume of one of your roommates.

Clothes hang from bedposts. A record player spins a dreamy, slow Muggle ballad in the corner. There’s glitter on the floor, spellbooks open mid-rewrite, and a half-finished charmed ceiling illusion stuttering above your beds.

The girls were sprawled across the room — Nyra and Leona on the bed painting their nails while Cassie was upside down in an armchair, legs kicking lazily in the air while she read a gossip magazine.

When you stepped in, Severus lingering just behind you. Only Nyra looked up and gasped at the sight.

“Merlin’s beard,” said Nyra her hand slowly reaching for her wand. “What happened to him?.”

“…Is that Severus Snape?” Cassie asked, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god, it is,” Leona giggled, standing up on her bed. “What’s he doing here?“

You pulling Severus into the room you dropped your bag by your bed  and turn to look at your Friends

.

“Ladies, this is Severus. He’s being bullied by half the bloody school and doesn’t know how to tell someone to sod off properly. So I’ve decided he’s joining us.”

Severus tries to backpedal, but you tug him forward by the sleeve and plant him on your bed.

“He’s bleeding, because of those Marauder idiots and needs full pampering” you say, already reaching for supplies to clean Severus up with. “Be nice.”

“…You brought me here to humiliate me.”

“No,” you said sweetly. “I brought you here to fix you.”

The girls were already surrounding him — not too close, not unkindly, just curious.

Cassie gets up and moves over to your bed and stopping in front of Severus.

“You really should smack them or hex them into next week.”

“Yes maybe,” he says warily.

Leona plops down on the floor at his feet, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Did you know she talks about you?”

Your head snaps up. “I don’t.”

“Liar,” Nyra says sweetly. “Last week: ‘Snape may look like he wants to hex the entire student body, but he has better hair than James Potter and I stand by that.’”

Severus blinks. His face goes so red.

You smirk. “Okay I did say that and I stand by that.”

He’s still quiet, but you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes. You all take turns to tend to Severus. Nayra went to brush and fix his hair for him while Cassie and leona used spells to fix up his torn clothes. Your girl gang never once stopped asking questions.

“Do you always scowl like that or is it just a phase?” Leona chimed in.

“Your hands are really nice,” said Cassie. “Do you play piano or something?” But the questions didn’t stop there.

“Would you ever dye your hair purple?”

“How many potions do you know by heart?”

“If we curse Sirius Black to sneeze confetti for a week, would you help?”

Severus flustered beyond measure and not quite sure what to do with himself and with the whole attention he was getting. To which Leona giggled and turned to look at you.

„Can we adopt him?“

But when Nyra spoke she plopped beside him and poked his arm. 

“So what gives, Snape? Why do you let those absolute trolls walk all over you? You're tall, you're smart, you can hex someone blind if you wanted to.”

Everyone turned to look at him. 

“She’s not wrong,” Cassie nodded. “You’ve got that brooding thing going for you. If you just stood up straight and glared a little less, you’d be kind of… hot.”

“What—” he nearly choked.

You snorted.

“First rule,” Continued leona. “You do not walk with your head down. Ever. You’re tall. Use it.”

“Second,” chimed Cassie in again, “if you make eye contact with someone, don’t look away first. Let them get uncomfortable.”

“Third,” added Nyra, “you have to stop letting those toe-rags hex you in the corridors. You’ve got a wand. Use it.”

Severus looked at you like you’d dragged him into a lion’s den but only nodded along.

The girls fell into their chaotic rhythm immediately, tossing advice, teasing him and trying to convince him into giving him a new look.

You watched from the bed, leaning back on your elbows, a proud smile tugging at your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, Leona has put nail polish on Severus nails after arguing with Nyra about the color.

„I am just saying green would look so much better“ 

“Black is the best option obviously. We have a vibe to maintain” Nyra just said. In the end Leona painted one nail green and added a tiny charmed sliver snake to it.

Cassie was trying to bribe him into answering deeply personal questions in exchange for chocolate frogs.

He dodges most of them with biting sarcasm,

“You have resting glare face,” Cassie says thoughtfully. “But you’re kind of a marshmallow underneath, huh?”

“Hardly,” he mutters.

“You let Y/N drag you into a room full of girls with glitter wands. That’s not ‘hardly.’ That’s brave.”

“You’re the one who nearly cried when we put pink lip gloss on you” Leona points out.

Severus sighs. “That was dark magic.”

Leona jokingly threw a pillow at him, he caught it — and threw it back. 

Which—unfortunately—only makes the girls like him more.

You met his eyes, just once, from across the room with a Grin and one look at her friends you spoke

“Severus Snape you are officially adopted and one of us now.“

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long before everyone at Hogwarts noticed that Severus Snape had become a permanent fixture in your orbit.

Where you went, he followed — sometimes in silence, sometimes half a step behind, but always there. At first, it was like watching a cat tiptoe through a room full of barking dogs — tense, quiet, bracing for something.

Because you weren’t the only one keeping an eye on him.

Your friends had taken to him with an alarming amount of energy and enthusiasm. At first, he looked deeply unsettled by it — the way they looped their arms through his, how they smoothed his robes when they got wrinkled, How they keep asking if he eat enough and would feed him at the meals. 

They glared down anyone who so much as sneered at him in the corridors but when the bullying started up again, they didn’t just glare.

It was Wednesday when James Potter cornered him outside the library — again.

Severus had barely said a word before James flicked his wand and jinxed the book bag from his shoulder but he never got through the next spell.

Nyra, Cassie, and Leona — were on him before he even blinked.

“Langlock!” Nyra snapped, her eyes flashing.

James stumbled backward, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth, choking on his own insult.

Cassie cast a spell to make Remus and Peter trip over their own feet.

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “I Slipped.”

Leona took Severus’ book bag and handed it back to him, ignoring the sputtering Marauder trying to reverse the spells thrown at them.

“Honestly,” she muttered, “they never learn.”

Sirius came storming toward them — all bark, as always — and you stepped in that time, wand raised just slightly holding it straight up his face. The look on your face was calm. Too calm.

“Try it, Black. I dare you.”

He hesitated. Then cursed under his breath and stormed off, dragging James and the others with him.

Severus stood frozen for a moment, blinking between you and the girls like he wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or… amused.

“Did you just—?”

“Hex James Potter? Yeah,”  Nyra said, cracking her knuckles. “And I’d do it again.”

From that day on, it was known.

You didn’t mess with Severus Snape.

Not unless you wanted to face the wrath of three magically gifted, terrifyingly loyal Slytherin girls — and their ringleader, who smiled like sin and hexed like a saint.

And Severus?

He began to change.

Not all at once. It came in slow, subtle shifts. The way he stood a little straighter. The way he stopped flinching at loud voices. The way he started to push back — sharp words, sarcastic jabs, a dry wit that had you cackling when he finally started using it out loud.

It begins with a dare, as most beautiful disasters in your life do.

You and your girl gang are crammed together at the Slytherin table, whispering through bites of toast. Cassie slides a vial into your palm with a grin. “McLaggen’s goblet.”

You glance at the bright pink potion. “He’s going to have glitter in places glitter should never be.”

Leona leans forward giggling like a maniac. “Ten galleons says he screams.” Nyra grins and gives Leona a playful push.

You go to stand, grinning. “Watch me work.” but before you can stand, a pale hand plucks the vial from your fingers.

Severus.

“I’ll do it.”

You blink. So does your whole group.

“What?” you ask.

He stands smoothly, pocketing the vial like it’s part of his robe. “He won’t see me coming.”

And then he’s gone.

You and the girls stare at each other in stunned silence.

“Did… Snape just volunteer for a prank? All on his own?” Cassie whispers.

“He did,” you say, watching his retreating form with something dangerously close to awe. “He really, really did.”

Ten minutes later, McLaggen lets out a shriek that makes the entire hall go silent. His hands, face, and neck are covered in iridescent pink glitter. It pulses.

Slytherin erupts.

You’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Severus slips back into his seat like nothing happened.

The laughter holds on for longer even as Mclaggen was brought out by one of the professors. When the calm came back Cassie just stared at Severus starry-eyed. 

“I think I’m in love.”

You elbow her. “Oi watch it.”

Over the next week, things… shift.

You’re all still chaos incarnate, but now Severus is with you. He has gotten used to the constant hovering of you and your girls and he basically strides with confidence while you all walk down the corridors.

And the rest of the castle?

They definitely notice especially the boys.

“Why is he always with them? Its like he is some celebrity” some boys sneer from their table at breakfast. Watching how Cassie and Leona once again dot on Severus while feeding him. Nyra stands behind him softly playing with his hair.

“It’s like he’s royalty”

„How come he gets that treatment“

You glance at Severus, but he doesn’t seem to hear them.

Or maybe… he does. And just doesn’t care.

On one weekend, while you’re all lounging near the Black Lake, one of your old flings strolls by. A Ravenclaw with charm to spare. He lingers near your blanket, watching Severus as he flips through a book besides Leona. Nyra and Cassie are deep in focus on their essay. Your head was resting on his lap with your eyes closed just enjoying the sun.

“So its really true then. You really are close to him.  Snape doesn’t seem your type if you ask me (y/n)” he says.

You smile sweetly. “I always had a thing for Tall, Moody, intelligent with good cheekbones. Especially if they know how to be a gentleman unlike you who can’t keep his pants on whenever he is in a room with a girl. He is better looking than you so if you please move we are busy thank you.”

The girls all burst out in laughter and the Ravenclaw boy just flushes in anger and walks away. Severus pretends not to hear what you had said—but you see the tip of his ear go pink.

Later, you catch him glancing at his reflection in the lake water.

You don’t say anything.

But you think it’s the first time he’s ever let himself wonder what you see when you look at him.

Chapter Text

It’s a Friday night, and somehow the girls have turned the Slytherin common room into their own personal kingdom. Everyone else has gone to Hogsmeade for a drink in the Three broomsticks so you had the space all to yourselves.

Cassie and Leona are playing Exploding Snap on the rug, laughing too loudly. Nyra lays on the couch opposite yours and reads a book she recently bought. You’re upside down your legs dangling over the backrest of the couch, head thrown back in a dramatic groan.

“I’m bored. Someone do something illegal.”

“I already hexed the portraits to sing Muggle showtunes,” Nyra says without looking up from her book. “You missed it.”

You open your eyes—and spot Severus leaning against the wall, pretending not to watch you.

“Severus,” you say sweetly, patting the space beside you. “Save me from this existential crisis.”

He eyes the couch warily.

You pat harder. “Please come here.”

“Impossible” he mutters, but he crosses the room anyway.

When he sits you immediately spin and flop your legs across his lap.

His breath stutters. „Do you have to place yourself over me like that?“

You grin and wiggle a little as if to make yourself even more comfortable. 

“Why is it not Comfy? Because I am very comfortable right now”

“Hardly. Your legs are heavy and I feel trapped” he looks at you with a glare but you can see how he is anything but annoyed or actually mad.

“Well as you know suffering builds character. Get used to it I will keep using you as a pillow whenever I want”

He rest his arms on your legs with a snort. „Watch out I might actually get used to it and then you can’t run anymore“

Cassie tosses a pillow at both of you. “Get a room you two!”

“This is a room,” you shout back. “You are just jealous he is my pillow now and not yours.”

Cassie and you stick your tongues out at each other which makes the Five of you all burst out laughing. The Mood stays like that chaotic loud and with loads of teasing.

Severus shakes his head more than once at Cassie and Leona but he doesn’t move your legs and neither he takes his arms of them.

Later, when the other girls left to go to bed, you are still awake beside him. Over the curse of the night you had sat up on the couch and now your head rested lightly on his shoulder, both of you facing the fireplace.

“Why do you let me do this?” you ask softly.

His voice is quiet. “Do what?”

“This. Invade your space. Bother you. Drag you into glitter tornadoes.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, barely audible: “Because you took care of me and because you make me feel like I belong somewhere”

That stops your breath. You shift lifting your head and facing him more fully. “You do belong Severus…”

He meets your eyes and time just seems to stop. There’s a charge there now—something weighty. Something dangerous.

You could lean in. Just a little but you stay still. Botch of you keep sitting there like that not talking and just staring at each other. The silence is not uncomfortable but filled with this unspoken tension that has been brewing up since you two first started talking.

And it didn’t leave when the both of you finally separated to go to bed. Its didn’t leave the next weeks to come.

Whenever you and Severus were alone the tension seemed to rise and become almost unbearable. The teasing sounded more like flirting, The touches lingered longer and became more.

Even your Girl friends started to notice the change between the two of you. It didn’t take long for them to corner you on your bed in your Dorm room.

„Okay spill what is going on between you two“ Nyra sat on your bed, grabbed the book from you hand and carelessly threw it on the floor. Leona and Cassie joined all of them staring waiting for you to spill the beans.

„I dont know what you are talking about everything is as it always was…“

„Oh please you two are basically undressing each other with your eyes“ Leona scoffed.  

„And don’t get me started on how he seems to cling to you and touch you whenever he has the chance to“ Cassie’s voice was stern, making clear that she will not take anything but the truth from you.

You look at all of them and for the first time in long you do not know what to tell them. So you just kept looking at them before lowering you gaze.

„There is nothing going on between us or maybe there is…I don’t know okay?“ your voice is quiet more like a whisper than anything else but you know they heard.

Cassie and leona scoffed in sync and went on on pointing how obviously it was that there was something. But one set of eyes never left your form and when She spoke silence fell over the room.

„You have feelings for him.“ Nyra’s voice was soft, a statement not a question.

Your head snapped up at it. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide. 

„(Y/n) oh dont be surprised it was clear to me the second you brought him to us. The way you talked about him it was clear this moment would come so spit it out and admit it so we all can go on and plan how you can win him for you.“

All three girls stared at you waiting for you to finally speak.

„Okay Yes I have feelings for him but I swear if I hear any weird comments I will hex each one of you!“

Cassie and Leona screamed and giggled in excitement before tackling you and Nora just joined.

It didn’t take long to come up with a good idea.

“Come to the Astronomy Tower tomorrow night.” You told him before bed next day.

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Midnight sharp wear something comfy!” And you were gone.

Severus stood in the common room for a little longer watching you go with a soft smile playing on his lips, before going to bed himself.

He showed up exactly at midnight, dressed in his sleepwear looking confused. His gaze sweeps over the room before he catches on to what you have prepared.

A blanket was draped across the stone ledge on top of them a few pillows and some more blankets. A little box of Honeyduke’s best and other sweets stacked on the side.

„What…what is all this?“ His eyes turn to you his face soft.

„Well I kind of thought…I thought we could watch the stars? Together?“ 

The smile he sends your way at that stops your heart beating before racing in a speed that should be completely unhealthy.

„I would love to“

Thats how not a few minutes later the both of you laid down, completely comfortable on the pillows and a warm blanket protecting you from the breeze staring up at the stars.

The air felt light between the two of you. Your words only spoken softly and over time his hand found yours under the safety of the blanket and laced his fingers through yours. It felt perfect.

“There,” He whispers, pointing. “That star is yours.”

You smile softly. “Why?”

“Because it shines the brightest out of every other star.

And you swear you feel something break open in the space between you.

Chapter Text

The end of the year came too quickly.

Final exams passed in a blur of ink-stained fingers, last-minute spell reviews, and your girl gang raiding the library for every single Advanced Potions book ever written while Severus gave them inputs that weren’t in them. 

You and Severus sat side by side in every class, your elbows brushing occasionally, your eyes meeting more often than they probably should.

Trunks were packed. Final scrolls handed in. Teachers grew impatient and distracted, and even McGonagall had let a few minor rule-breakings slide.

Everything had slowed…

Except your heart.

You hadn’t said it aloud but you knew you are madly in love with Severus. He walked beside you now like it was second nature. He handed you your tea without needing to ask how you took it. He stood closer than he used to, like he’d forgotten what personal space means.

And when he looked at you…

It was quiet, Soft, Grateful and hungry in a way that makes your stomach twist.

One quiet night in the common room you and Severus sat on the couch side by side like you always did now. Most students were in bed early but you couldn’t sleep and neither could he.

The fire there had long since been banked to embers but none of you moved from your positions. You knew that the last Day here would come soon and with no turning back.

The silence was heavier between you two, of things unsaid and of everything that hovered between you, just barely touching the surface.

“Do you think we’ll see each other again I mean after we left and find our way in life?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

Severus liftet his head to where it was resting again the back of the couch, his dark eyes met yours. “I…I hope we do. I am not quite ready to say goodbye to you”

You nodded once, trying not to let the ache show standing up.

“Guess this is it, then,” you said lightly. “Up into the real world”

You turned to leave but before you could take a step his fingers curl around your wrist gently. He stood there, his expression unreadable. Like he was still waging war with himself.

“(Y/n),” he said — just your name, but there was something fragile in it.

You raised a brow, not letting yourself hope too hard. “Yeah?”

His hand tightened just slightly around your wrist. And then — like he was making the most important decision of his life — he stepped forward.

His hand came up to your cheek. His eyes searched yours for a heartbeat longer before his arms came around you pulling you in a warm embrace.

„I don’t want to say goodbye to you we will find a way to see each other again I promise“

„We better. Because I really don’t want to lose this“

And for that moment everything seemed to be perfect once again.

On the last night in Hogwarts The Great Hall didn’t look like it always did. Everything’s golden. The ceiling is enchanted to look like starlight streaking across velvet skies. Floating candles dip low over a wide, polished floor where seventh-years twirl in gowns and tailored robes. Music swells, soft and old.

You’re late. Intentionally.

When you enter, heads turn.

Your dress is deep emerald, off the shoulder, hugging your body like it was stitched to you by magic. You walk with fire in your eyes and glitter on your collarbones.

But none of that matters.

Because he’s the only one you’re looking for.

You find him in the corner of the hall, standing alone near the edge of the crowd. He’s dressed in black robes—clean lines, subtle embroidery. He’s watching you approach with that one look on his face that makes your stomach do flips.

You cross the floor like it belongs to you and stop in front of him.

“Dance with me,” you say.

He blinks taken aback by your absolute boldness. “What?”

You offer your hand. “I want to dance with you”

He hesitates but only a few second later he holds out his arm for you, making you beam at him. You grab his arm and pull him onto the floor.

To your surprise he isn’t stiff or awkward as you believed he would be. Quite the opposite.

His hand came to rest on your waist almost like he’s afraid he’ll break you, the other hands firmly in yours as he pulls you closer.

“You never cease to surprise me” you whisper. 

“Thanks Merlin for that or you would have burned the whole school down just out of boredom”

You laugh—loud and real. And just like that the mood was set between you.

He leads you with confident strides over the dance floor as if he had done this a thousand times before. You let him guide you through the rhythm. His hand stays grows firmer on your hip and his gaze… his gaze burns.

“I think,” you murmur as the music slows, “I wanted this more than I realized.”

“What?”

“This. You. Us.”

He swallows hard, his steps slowing down until coming to a halt.

“You’re not going to disappear after tonight,” you say softly. “Are you? You will write me letters won’t you?”

„I promise I will.“

Your hand  that rested on his shoulder slips down to his his chest, resting just under his collar. “There is something I want to try”

His breath is shallow. “Y/N…”

You lean in slowly and your noses brush briefly. The air is electric. His hand tightens on your waist.

“Kiss me” you whisper. “Please”

He closes the gap.

And then—

“Y/N! Sevy!” Cassie slams into the both of you, obvious to the moment she just interrupted. Behind her Leona and Nyra join.

„We so need to dance! This is our song come on!“

You couldn’t even react and you were dragged away by the girls you shared 7 years together.

„But I was…“ You turn back to Severus but the moment is gone and so was he.

Nyra had noticed that something was off when you didn’t dance with them as usual to which you spilled to them how Severus and you nearly kissed.

„Oh my god I am so sorry! I really didn’t want to break that up“ Cassie cried out in honor at herself.

„Its alright I will see him later.“

You didn’t see Him again after that not in the common room and not when you stepped onto the Hogwarts express back home.

Kings Cross station was packed. Everywhere you looked friends were saying farewell and wishing each other luck.

Your Girls are crying and laughing in waves, pulling you into hugs, promising letters, promising everything. Leona holds your hand too long. Cassie won’t stop talking and Nyra just smiles sadly at you.

One after the other they disappear into the crowd on their way into their own lives.

You can’t focus because you’re scanning the crowd hoping to see Severus so you can speak to him again and say goodbye and then you see him.

On the platform across from you. Alone.

Severus stands like a shadow against the silver mist of the train smoke. No trunk. No wand in sight. Just his dark robes, windblown hair, and that familiar weight behind his eyes.

He’s already looking at you and your breath catches. He watches you like there’s something he wants to say—needs to say—but doesn’t know how.

You take a single step forward as if you could reach him if you tried pulled in like a moth into the flame but so does he.

And for a split second, it feels like you might finally reach him.

A train moves in taking the sight of him from you and when it finally started moving again the moment’s gone.

And so is he.

You never heard from him again.

But you still remember the way he looked at you that day on the platform. You still think about it.

He looked like he wanted to ask you to stay.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape prided himself on being unshakable.

He could silence a room with a glance. Intimidate students with the lift of a brow. End a duel with a whisper and a flick of his wand. The world had bent and broken around him a hundred different ways, and still, he remained.

But the moment he read the name on the new faculty list—

Y/N Y/L/N, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

—he knocked over his teacup.

The sharp clatter against the stone floor startled even him. Minerva looked up shocked from the parchment she was reviewing.

„Everything alright Severus?“ Her brows were pulled together in concern.

Severus just turned and stormed out of the staff room, his robes trailing him like a shadow.

Sprout just chuckled and turned to look at Minerva. „He just saw the name on the Faculty list.“ 

That made Minerva laugh before she looked at the door where Severus stormed out of. 

„Oh that explains it. They did have some…Bond I might dare say.“

Flitwicks laughter echoed „I wouldn’t call it a Bond they were basically hanging off on each other. I remember how he even let (y/n) and her ‚snakes‘ put glitter on him“

„Yeah, yeah young love what can you do“ They all laughed together before continuing their work.

You arrived just before term began.

There was no storm of laughter, no boots stomping across the hallways, no perfume trailing chaos in your wake. Just a quiet knock on the front gates, and a lone figure in dark robes standing beneath the gray Scottish sky.

Minerva greeted you with a warm hug and asked how time has been treating you. Flitwick practically beamed with excitement and Sprout cried.

And Severus?

He simply stood there, silent and unmoving.

You offered him a nod. That was all.

No smirk. No quip. No “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brooding bastard.”

Just a polite nod and the smallest flicker of recognition in your eyes before it was gone and when you took your seat at the opposite end of the staff table without another word it was like you’d never known him at all.

He watched you shamelessly that night.

You smiled at Flitwick and discussed different spells, laughed softly at a story from Pomona about students, accepted pumpkin juice from Minerva even though you used to hate it— and yet, never once looked his way again.

Not even once.

You were wrapped in calm, graceful and composed veil. A professional in every sense of the word. If he hadn’t seen you once dance on the Gryffindor table while singing along to a Muggle song he could have sworn this wasn’t you sitting there.

This version of you was untouchable.

And worse — unfamiliar.

The first time you spoke to him again was two days later.

It was just outside the Great Hall, students buzzing past after lunch. Your posture was perfect, your voice polite.

“Professor Snape.”

He turned to look at you — sharply. Like hearing your voice still sent something warm curling beneath his ribs.

You met his eyes with steady disinterest.

“Professor?” he repeated slowly, a note of disbelief in his tone.

You tilted your head. “We’re colleagues now, aren’t we? Its only polite to address you accordingly.”

“Is that what we are?” His expression was unreadable. “Colleagues?”

“Unless you have another term you’d prefer.”

His mouth twitched. “I can think of several.”

You gave him a ghost of your old grin. “Let me guess. ‘Chaos incarnate’? ‘Nuisance’? Or the one who turned the Charms corridor into a glitter tunnel during sixth year?”

He blinked. “That was you?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t guess sooner.”

You walked away before he could respond.

He stood there long after you disappeared down the corridor, jaw clenched, fingers flexing at his side like there were words trying to claw their way out.

You didn’t look back because the truth was — it hurt. More than you cared to admit.

 You had checked your windowsill every morning that summer after graduation. Just one sentence would’ve been enough — “I miss you.”

One letter, just one word that he didn’t forget you but It never came.

So you had done what you had to do. You swallowed the ache. Buried the fire and rebuilt yourself with steel.

If he’d forgotten you, then so be it, you would forget him, too.

But it was harder than you expected because now being back and seeing him again it opened a wound you had believed to be healed. It also didn’t help that every time you passed each other in the corridors, he looked at you like he was remembering something — like your ghost still lingered on his fingertips.

And every time your eyes met, something flickered in him.

But he never said a word and neither did you.

Until you did.

The staff room was unusually quiet for a Monday morning.

Steam curled from mismatched mugs as the professors gathered around the long table. A fire crackled low in the hearth, its warmth doing little to ease the tight coil of silence that had settled after the first few agenda items. 

Professor Sprout hummed to herself while doodling sunflowers in the margins of her parchment. Flitwick kept sneaking sweets from the tea tray. Dumbledore for once joined the staff meeting but still seemed content letting Minerva lead.

Severus sat at one end of the table, arms folded, jaw tense. You were seated directly across from him, and though your eyes hadn’t met once this morning, your every word seemed sharpened like a blade.

Minerva cleared her throat delicately. “We’ve had another suit of armor hexed to sing Celestina Warbeck on loop in the second-floor corridor.”

“I believe that was the work of two of my fourth-years,” Flitwick piped up. “Nothing dangerous—though the armor now swears loyalty to Ravenclaw. Loudly.”

A few chuckles.

You didn’t smile.

“Well,” you said lightly, flipping your parchment, “at least someone knows how to clean up after their students. Pity not all houses can say the same.”

The air shifted.

Severus glanced up, eyes narrowing. “Is that meant to be a jab at me, Professor?”

You still didn’t look at him. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a jab. More of an observation. After all, someone’s Slytherins have a particular talent for leaving hex residue in every corridor they slither through.”

“A curious remark,” he said coolly, “considering you used to lead most of those parades.”

Your smile was faint. Icy. “Yes, I also used to spend time with ungrateful people. So I grew up.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed slightly. His tone turned flat.

“Forgive me, Professor, I must have forgotten we were on such familiar terms again.”

You didn’t flinch. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ve forgotten more important things before.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sprout coughed delicately. Hooch suddenly found something fascinating about her teacup. Flitwick looked back and forth between you like he was watching a particularly riveting Gobstones match.

Severus leaned forward slightly, voice lower. “If you have something to say,” he said quietly, dangerously, “say it.”

You finally looked up at him, eyes glittering and just like him you leaned forward.

“Why start now? Not like you ever gave a damn” you said, voice smooth and cold as ice.

He froze.

Dumbledore, from the head of the table, gave a thoughtful hum. “Ah. Tea, anyone?”

Minerva stood abruptly. “I believe that concludes today’s meeting. If you’ll all excuse me, I need to prepare my third-years to not transfigure their classmates into ferrets again.”

Chairs scraped. Mugs clinked. Professors scattered like spooked pixies.

You remained seated, fingers lightly tapping your parchment. Calm. Composed. But your chest burned.

Across the table, Severus hadn’t moved. His gaze stayed locked on yours, unreadable, like he was still trying to figure out what storm he’d just stepped into.

You rose without a word. As you passed, your voice was soft enough only he could hear.

“And once again he is silent.”

Then you were gone, leaving behind the scent of ink, tea, and the echo of things unsaid.

Chapter Text

You been back two weeks and already, Hogwarts had shifted.

It was in the way students spoke your name with a mixture of awe and intimidation. In the way Flitwick always saved you a seat in the staff lounge. In how even the portraits leaned closer when you passed — as if trying to remember the last time they saw you.

You sipped your tea in silence, sitting near the window of the staffroom, watching students bustle across the courtyard below. Your posture was perfect. Calm and Composed like always.

Severus hadn’t spoken to you since the staff meeting. He hadn’t needed to.

You could feel his eyes every time you walked into a room. He was always almost saying something. Always just one step from stepping forward and demanding to know why you'd turned into a stranger but he never did.

He just watched and you let him.

Because the truth still stung:

He never wrote. Not once. Not one letter.

After everything — the stolen moments, the almosts, the near-kiss — he vanished like you’d never meant anything. Like you were just another chapter in a schoolbook he'd closed.

So you wanted to return the favor. Sort of.

Minerva’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and sharp as ever. “You’ve taken to staff life quite well, Y/N.”

You smiled softly. “It’s quieter than I remember. Less glitter explosions.”

Flitwick chuckled into his cup. “That corridor was never the same after you enchanted it. I believe there is still some glitter on the ceiling”

Sprout gave you a look over her glasses. “My Greenhouse still sings during pollen season and my plants dance to it”

You opened your mouth to feign innocence, but the door opened, and in walked Severus, cloak billowing behind him. Your spine straightened slightly and you didn’t look at him but your tea suddenly tasted bitter.

“Severus,” Minerva greeted with a twitch of her eyebrow, “how lovely of you to join us. You’re almost early.”

He ignored the comment and sat — across from you, of course. Close enough that you could see the lines of tension carved into his shoulders. But still not a word.

You didn’t speak either.

The silence stretched, taut and glinting like a wire between you.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Pomona muttered finally, putting down her cup. “Would the two of you just talk it out already and put us out of our misery?”

You choked on your tea.

So did Severus.

Minerva arched a brow. “Pomona.”

“Well, it’s exhausting,” Sprout went on, waving her hand between you and Severus. “The staring. The tension. You’d think you two had some sordid past.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Flitwick said cheerfully. “Like a tragic play.”

“More like a painfully slow novel,” Minerva muttered.

You cleared your throat and stood. “I have class.”

Severus stood at the exact same time.

The entire room froze watching the two of you like a bomb that was about to explode.

Your eyes met for just a heartbeat — and you swore you could see the words in his eyes, the ones he still refused to speak aloud but you turned away first, because if he wanted to talk, really talk, then he could say it. Out loud. To your face.

Not with glances across tea tables and ghosted steps behind you.

That night, in the privacy of your quarters, you stood at the window, staring out into the dark grounds.

You remembered his promise to write.

You remembered your fingers hovering over parchment but not writing a single word willing him to write first.

You remembered waiting.

And waiting.

And nothing.

So now, here you were. Back where it all began. 

He was here. You were here and maybe the world had changed but your heart still ached in the same familiar place.

You wondered if he knew. You wondered if he cared.

And worst of all—

You still weren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

At the same time that evening, the staffroom was quiet—just a low crackle from the fireplace and the gentle clink of teacups. Minerva sat near the hearth, her tartan shawl draped over one shoulder as she stared thoughtfully into the flames.

 “They’re going to drive us all mad,” she said at last, voice low and dry. “Tiptoeing around each other like they haven’t already danced this dance.”

Flitwick glanced up from his biscuit. “Oh, they’ve danced. Quite literally. I still remember the Graduation Ball.”

Pomona made a face. “Merlin, don’t remind me. They were about to kiss right there on the floor. And then Cassie—was it Cassie?—came barreling in and ruined it.”

Minerva nodded solemnly. “I saw it too. I was standing by the orchestra pit. She looked at him like the whole castle could’ve burned down and she wouldn’t have cared.”

“They always had that kind of fire,” Pomona murmured.

“They were inseparable in seventh year,” Flitwick said. “Even Sprout's sunflowers noticed, and they’re not exactly observant.”

Minerva sighed and took a sip of her tea. “They’ve wasted enough time already.”

There was a pause before Pomona leaned forward. “I say they’ll stop pretending by the start of the next year. And I’m willing to bet on it.”

Flitwick’s eyes twinkled. “They will be done dancing before New Years. I’ll wager five sickles.”

Minerva arched an eyebrow. “You’re starting a pool?”

“I’m simply acknowledging the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Pomona said. “It’s been inevitable since she dragged him into that Group full of glitter and chaos”

They all turned their heads slightly as Severus passed the window outside—shoulders tense, robes billowing.

You followed a heartbeat later, walking in the opposite direction, chin high, expression unreadable.

Minerva didn’t blink. “They’re still moving in perfect counterpoint. Even now.”

“No wonder the students are all whispering,” Pomona muttered.

“They need help,” Flitwick said cheerfully.

“They need one very inconvenient seating arrangement at the next staff meeting,” Minerva corrected.

Flitwick raised his teacup. “To meddling?”

“To meddling,” Minerva and Pomona echoed, clinking cups.

“And perhaps,” Minerva added, almost to herself, “to a very overdue happy ending.”

Chapter Text

The seventh-years filed out of the Defense classroom, murmuring about their upcoming exams and the Transfiguration essay due next week. You stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, watching them go.

You didn’t look at him.

Even though you knew — felt — Severus lingering in the doorway.

“I thought we were alternating supervision,” you said flatly, eyes still on the parchment in your hands.

“I swapped with Sinistra,” he replied smoothly.

You finally turned, arching a brow. “Volunteering to monitor detentions now? I must’ve missed the apocalypse.”

He stepped further into the classroom, dark eyes unreadable. “You always were dramatic.”

You hummed. “And you always knew how to ruin a good exit.”

He didn’t rise to the bait this time instead, he walked past the rows of desks and stopped beside yours. “They seem to respect you,” he said after a beat.

You gave a noncommittal shrug. “They’re terrified I’ll curse them into frogs.”

A pause.

Then, carefully: “You were always fierce but never terrifying. I mean you used to dance on tables and hexed glitter everywhere.”

You smiled thinly. “Used to is the keyword.”

He didn’t answer, just looked at you. You hated how that silence still got to you. It wasn’t empty. It was loaded. Years and words and everything he never said.

“I’ve changed, Snape,” you muttered.

“I noticed.” he said softly and something about that — the way he said it, like it hurt — made you turn away.

You just left him standing there without another word.

The following afternoon, something odd was afoot in the staff lounge.

You’d barely made it through the door before Minerva stood and gestured to the seat beside her — which happened to be directly across from Severus. He glanced up from his teacup as you hesitated.

“I’m not sitting in your lap, Minerva,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be absurd,” she replied, perfectly composed. “Just thought you might prefer the view.”

You sat, ignoring the way Severus’s eyes flicked briefly to yours, then back to his book. The moment you lifted your teacup, Flitwick appeared at your elbow. 

“Professor Y/L/N, your input would be most appreciated on an upcoming dueling club revision. I was hoping to schedule a short meeting—perhaps with Severus as well?”

Severus didn’t look up. “I’m not interested.”

“Pity,” Flitwick sighed. “I do love a reunion.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “You’re all very bad at being subtle.”

“Subtle?” Sprout said from the corner, casually watering the lounge plant — which definitely did not need watering. “Whatever do you mean?”

“It’s like watching first-years sneak off to the Astronomy Tower,” Minerva murmured behind her cup.

“I heard that,” you said.

“I meant for you to,” she answered.

Severus didn’t say a word, but you saw the twitch of his brow. A flicker of restrained irritation—or amusement. Possibly both. You left before anyone could trap you in a joint lunch invitation, but not before hearing Pomona mutter something about “Project Unresolved Tension” to Flitwick. You ignored it.

Mostly.

Until the next morning when you arrived at your classroom to find an entire set of your lesson plans had been “accidentally” delivered to Severus’s office instead.

“Clerical mix-up,” Minerva had said with a straight face.

Then the night after that, you found your patrol shift had been swapped… and now coincided with his. You stared at the schedule. Your name, neatly inked in beside his. 

Your scowl, not so neat.

“I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, stuffing the parchment into your coat.

You were halfway down the corridor before realizing that part of you didn’t mind.

Not entirely.

Later that week, Sprout intercepted you outside the staffroom.

“Y/N! You’re helping with the Potions inventory this evening, yes?”

“I—what?”

“Severus asked for assistance.” She smiled, far too innocently. “I thought it would be good for both of you. To… catch up.”

You stared at her. “Was this your idea or McGonagall’s?”

“Minerva bets on who storms out first,” she said brightly, patting your shoulder.

So that’s how you ended up in the Potions storeroom at dusk, standing beside the one man you’d tried very hard not to remember in candlelight.

You worked in silence, noting ingredients, checking labels, marking expiration dates.

His voice broke the stillness. “Do you remember the first time we brewed this together?” he asked, lifting a vial of Bloodroot Elixir.

You didn’t look at him. “Yes.”

You didn’t say you’d kept that vial — dried out, long faded — in your room all these years because it was the only thing you could say was part of him.

“You’ve barely spoken to me,” he said after a moment. “Why?”

You stopped. Finally met his eyes.

“Why didn’t you write?” you asked quietly.

He blinked. “What?”

“After graduation. After that night. After we almost…” You exhaled, biting back the heat in your throat. “I waited but you didn’t say anything. So go on explain.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t look at you.

So you stepped back, letting the distance settle in again.

“That’s what I thought,” you said quietly.

That night, a student passing by your classroom door paused as she caught sight of you tidying scrolls with an uncharacteristically wistful look.

Her friend peeked in beside her. “I heard she used to be loud and a little crazy in her school years here.”

“Yeah. My brother said she used to be close with Professor Snape.”

“Seriously?”

“She said it herself. ‘He was someone once, but I guess some people forget.’”

The words drifted through the empty corridor like smoke.

And down the far hall, where he stood unseen, Severus stopped in his tracks.

Later that evening, the staff lounge buzzed with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of teacups. Most professors had retired early, but a core few remained — Minerva, Pomona and Flitwick— seated around a floating game of Wizard’s Chess and an opened tin of shortbread.

“I passed by the Defense corridor not ten minutes ago,” Minerva said, not looking up from the chessboard. “Caught the tail end of something quite... revealing.”

“More brooding and yearning from Severus?” Pomona asked dryly.

“No,” Minerva replied. “This time it was (Y/N). I heard two students talk about how  she told them that ‚Severus used to be someone but some people forget,’”

That silenced the table for a beat.

Flitwick frowned. “How tragic. Sounds like Act III of a doomed lovers’ play.”

“More like Act I of a meddling professor’s intervention,” Pomona muttered, sipping her tea.

Minerva finally looked up, eyes glinting over her spectacles. “We need to do something.”

“We’ve tried subtle,” Pomona reminded. “Seating charts. Shared patrols. Convenient schedule overlaps.”

“They need a shove,” Minerva agreed. “Preferably off a broomstick. Together.”

“I’m still holding out hope for the glitter corridor again,” Flitwick sighed. “It softened him, you know. He laughed.”

Chapter Text

The staffroom was unusually warm.

Not from temperature — the castle was always cold — but from laughter. Someone, probably Flitwick, had charmed the kettle to sing opera. Minerva had rolled her eyes but hadn't reversed it. Even Pomona had been caught humming along.

You sat in the corner, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone lukewarm, your eyes drifting occasionally toward the fire. You weren’t really part of the conversation. Not entirely and then he walked in.

You didn’t look. Not right away. But you felt it. That shift in the air. That awareness that settled between your shoulders.

“Late, Severus,” Minerva noted, glancing at the clock.

“I had to prevent a second-year from attempting to pickle a Puffskein in formaldehyde.”

Flitwick made a horrified sound. “Oh, dear—again?”

He swept into the room, robes trailing like a storm cloud, and—because fate had a twisted sense of humor—the only empty seat left was across from you.

He sat slowly, long fingers wrapping around his teacup. You didn’t meet his eyes, not until he spoke.

“Still drinking it black, I see,” he said quietly. You blinked then finally looked at him.

“I don’t trust sugar cubes,” you replied, voice even. “They always look like they're hiding something.”

He huffed. A barely-there sound then he added, softly, “You used to say that.”

You nodded, letting the quiet wrap back around you but it didn’t stay that way.

Not for long.

Later that afternoon, a rainstorm had cancelled all outdoor classes. The halls echoed with the groans of students and the sharp scolds of Filch.

You were walking toward the library when you turned a corner—and ran straight into Severus.

“Merlin,” you muttered, “do you float now?”

“Some would say slither,” he replied smoothly.

You snorted. Actually snorted.

He tilted his head. “Was that a laugh?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sounded like one.”

“I have a cold.”

“Did your cold also cause your mouth to curl upward slightly?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Careful. People might start thinking you have a sense of humor.”

“Oh, the horror.”

You smiled — a real one — before realizing it, and the second you did, your face shuttered. You stepped back. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.” You turned to leave, heart hammering for reasons you didn’t want to name, but before you could disappear around the corner—

“Was it really just because I didn’t sent a damn Letter?” he asked, voice low. “Is that why you’re… like this now?”

You stopped, but you didn’t turn.

“Yeah. Let’s pretend that it was just the letters that never came.” you said quietly. 

„You have really no idea do you?“

Your voice cracked—just barely—but you straightened, spine like steel.

“Maybe that’s the problem. You never did.”

He didn’t answer. And you didn’t wait for him to try. 

Severus stood in the corridor long after you were gone, the echo of your footsteps louder than anything he'd heard all day.

Down the hall, just around the bend, a tapestry depicting the Hogwarts Founders in Disagreement twitched suspiciously — specifically, over Helga Hufflepuff’s glowering embroidered face.

It twitched again, and then with a soft hum, it parted.

Minerva McGonagall stepped out from behind it, arms crossed and lips pressed into a line. Behind her, Flitwick shuffled forward on his tiptoes, spectacles askew, and a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Well,” Minerva murmured, “that was certainly… illuminating.”

“I wasn’t the only one who heard that, was I?” Flitwick whispered, voice squeaking slightly. “You heard it too, yes?”

“I’m not deaf, Filius,” she muttered. “Though this is quite more serious than we thought.”

Before either of them could say more, the suit of armor across the hall gave an abrupt clank and stepping from behind it Pomona Sprout emerging with a clump of sneezewort still stuck in her hair and a deeply scandalized look on her face.

“Pomona?” Minerva blinked.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was checking on the west corridor’s soil enchantments,” she sniffed. “But then I heard voices — and naturally, I stayed very still like any responsible adult would when sensing drama.”

Flitwick gasped. “She waited and he never wrote!”

Minerva said quietly, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “All these years. And he just… didn’t.”

Pomona’s jaw tightened. “I ought to hex him. Or lock them both in a closet and let them work it out. Or hex him and lock them in a closet.”

“They were so close at the end of seventh year…” Flitwick murmured, half to himself. “I remember thinking they were inevitable.”

Minerva tilted her head, calculating. “Clearly not as inevitable as we’d hoped. But perhaps... inevitable still.”

There was a beat of silence. Shared thought. Brewing chaos.

Then Pomona clapped her hands once. “Well. If we weren’t already meddling, I’d start now.”

Minerva gave her a pointed look, eyes glinting. “Pomona, we are woefully behind schedule.”

Flitwick perked up. “Do we… do we make a chart?”

“I already have one,” Minerva said crisply, drawing a small roll of parchment from her sleeve and unrolling it. It was labeled: ‘Project Just Snog Already’ — complete with betting columns and tallies. Pomona stared.

 “...Is that a moving bar graph?”

“Yes. Severus’s resistance is plotted in red. Y/N’s passive-aggression is in glittering teal.”

“I love everything about this,” said Flitwick.

The three professors stood in the empty corridor, plotting in the hush of the castle as the rain lashed softly against the tall windows above.

That night, in the solitude of your office, you sat staring at a half-marked essay, your quill forgotten in your hand. The walls were quiet. The fire crackled and for the first time in years, your chest ached in that old, familiar way — the kind that reminded you of moonlit towers, whispered promises, and hands that nearly touched but never held on.

You closed your eyes and let yourself remember what it felt like to be looked at like you were the brightest thing in the room.

Chapter Text

The first snowfall of November arrived overnight.

By morning, the castle looked like a snow globe — all soft white rooftops and glittering frost-laced windows. Students squealed with delight, slipping on the flagstone floors with armfuls of scarves and cloaks. Even Peeves seemed oddly festive.

You sat at the staff table, hands wrapped around your tea, watching the flurry outside as if it held answers.

“Professor Y/L/N,” came Minerva’s voice — brisk, but with that ever-so-slight curve of amusement.

You blinked. “Yes?”

She handed you a rolled parchment. “You and Professor Snape have been assigned to supervise today’s inter-house dueling demonstration.”

You stared at her. “Why?”

“We’ve found the older students respond better to joint supervision,” she replied smoothly.

“And” added Flitwick, peering up from his seat beside her, “We thought it would do you both good to… collaborate again.”

You looked toward the far end of the table. Severus was already watching you.

He quirked a brow.

You didn’t roll your eyes, but it was a near thing.

The dueling chamber had changed little since your school days.

Same arched ceilings. Same echo of footsteps. Same charged air, thick with anticipation and teenage nerves. You stood beside Severus as students filed in.

“You take the Slytherins and Gryffindors,” you said coolly. “I’ll manage the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.”

“No faith in my ability to wrangle thirteen-year-olds without poisoning them?”

You glanced at him. “You’re many things, Severus. Gentle isn’t one of them.”

He smirked. “Still so complimentary.”

“I try.”

As the students paired off, you moved through the groups — correcting stances, deflecting badly aimed spells, adjusting wand grips. Every so often, you felt Severus’s presence at your side — a brush of robes, the heat of his voice close to your ear as he offered a low comment or sharp remark.

At one point, a fifth-year accidentally aimed too high, sending a Stinging Hex arcing toward your face. You raised your wand to deflect — but didn’t need to.

Severus blocked it mid-air with a smooth flick of his wrist, the hex dissipating into soft golden sparks.

You turned, surprised.

He didn’t look at you. Just said, coolly, “Try aiming with your eyes open, Mr. Macmillan.”

But his hand lingered, ever so slightly, at your elbow before he walked away.

After class, the students filed out in a whirlwind of cloaks and chatter.

You remained, reorganizing the dueling mats with a flick of your wand. Severus stood a few feet away, examining a burn mark on the floor.

“You didn’t have to step in,” you said finally.

“I know but you were distracted,” he replied.

A pause.

“Thanks,” you added, softer. That made him glance at you. It was the first real silence between you that didn’t feel brittle.

You took a breath, then asked — before you could change your mind—

“Why didn’t you write?”

He stiffened.

You didn’t look at him, just kept tidying as if the question had been an afterthought.

“I mean,” you continued, voice steady, “you said you would. That night. Before we left.”

“I…”

You turned to him now.

His eyes didn’t meet yours. “Everything changed faster than I expected and I wasn’t sure—didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“I did,” you said simply, a long, weighted pause.

Then he nodded once. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything else.

You just nodded, turned, and walked out of the chamber, heart full of the ache you’d thought you’d buried years ago.

A soft cough echoed from the shadows near the chamber door.

Severus turned sharply—only to find Minerva McGonagall, arms crossed, leaning casually against the stone archway.

“How long were you standing there?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Long enough to see that Miss Y/L/N still duels better than you,” she replied smoothly. He scowled at her as if she just told him that he is stupid.

Behind her, Flitwick popped his head around the corner, beaming. “Was that progress I witnessed? Emotional and magical?”

“You’re spying now?” Severus asked, deadpan.

“We call it monitoring staff morale,” Pomona chimed in as she joined them, brushing snowflakes from her cloak. “And your morale looked very interested in Professor Y/L/N’s wellbeing, I might add.”

“She could’ve been hexed in the face, I just stopped something bad happening” he snapped.

“She had it under control,” Minerva said mildly. “But you jumped in faster than a Hippogriff to a liver steak.”

Severus muttered something under his breath.

“Oh, lighten up, dear,” Pomona grinned, pulling a small scroll from her pocket. “Flitwick says you’ll both kiss before New Year’s.”

“I stand by it!” the tiny professor chirped.

“Sprout’s betting on a mistletoe incident,” Minerva added, “and I expect it to happen to an emotionally charged argument.”

“I am not discussing this,” Severus snapped, stalking away in a flurry of black robes.

That evening your quarters were lit only by a single enchanted lantern and the soft hum of the castle’s winter wind pressing against the windowpanes as you entered. You’d barely kicked off your boots and loosened your robes when—

Knock knock knock.

You frowned. “It’s open.”

The door creaked open… revealing Minerva, Flitwick, and Pomona standing like a trio of very dignified intruders.

“…Am I being sacked?” you asked.

Minerva sniffed. “Hardly. Though I’m tempted, after watching you two dance around each other like a pair of dizzy Thestrals.”

“Tea, dear?” Pomona asked cheerfully, holding up a basket. “We brought biscuits.”

You stared at them. “Why does this feels like an ambush?”

Flitwick nodded, already pouring tea. “More like a concerned intervention.”

Minerva took the chair by the fire with all the solemnity of a general. “We saw what happened in the dueling chamber. And before you argue—yes, we were eavesdropping. No, we don’t regret it.”

You crossed your arms but didn’t sit.

“I’m fine” you said flatly.

“Oh, darling,” Pomona said gently, “We know that you are not fine”

You glanced away, jaw tight. Minerva set her tea down. “Y/N… We know he didn’t write and you believed it meant he didn’t care.”

“Don’t he?” you whispered.

Flitwick tilted his head. “Have you looked at him lately? He is like a lost niffler”

You let out a breath before letting yourself fall on the couch. “I don’t know what hurts more — thinking he forgot me, or realizing he might not have, and still said nothing.”

The silence that followed wasn’t judgmental. It was… soft. Knowing.

Rising with a small smile Minerva spoke up, “I am still betting on you outdueling his emotional repression before spring.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We’re old,” Pomona shrugged. “And invested.”

They left with the kind of smiles only meddling professors could wear — the ones that said we’re watching, we’re rooting for you.

And later, as you stood by your window watching the snow fall gently against the glass, you found yourself wondering…

If he’d ever did think about you too.

Chapter Text

You had a theory: the Hogwarts staff had collectively decided that your emotional life was now their side project.

First, it had been the “accidental” joint patrol schedule McGonagall issued—your name linked beside Severus Snape's in elegant script across every Thursday evening for the rest of the term.

Then, Flitwick started leaving marking rubrics in the staff lounge with your and Severus’s papers side-by-side.

Most recently, Pomona Sprout had delivered an innocent smile while assigning the two of you to supervise a group of third-years repotting venomous tentacula — 

“Just in case one of them needs a dual shield charm,” she’d said, far too cheerfully for the situation.

You were onto them. Unfortunately, you were too tired to fight it.

That Thursday, you found yourself once again walking the long, winding hallways beside him — just the two of you, the torches casting flickering shadows against the stone.

“Third time this month,” you muttered. “I’m beginning to think Minerva’s doing this on purpose.”

Severus didn’t look at you, but there was a ghost of a smirk in his voice when he said, “She’s subtle as ever.”

You walked in silence for a few moments, boots echoing softly.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you said after a beat. “Being back here. Walking these halls like we never left.”

His eyes flicked to you. “You walk like you’re still trying to conquer the place.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Old habits.”

“Some of them,” he murmured, “are still... endearing.”

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone but he’d already looked away.

Later that night, you found yourself in the staff lounge grading essays — again, somehow across from Severus. The fire crackled. Tea cooled beside you. Your shoulders ached.

You reached for your quill, so did he.

Your fingers touched and you both froze at the contact. You looked up — and found him already watching you. There was something unreadable in his expression. Not guarded, not sharp just… waiting.

Your hand slowly drew back. You cleared your throat and focused on the parchment again. Silence stretched, but it wasn’t cold. It felt familiar.

You flexed your fingers slightly, still aware of the warmth where they had brushed his. Across from you, Severus had returned to his essays, quill in hand — but the parchment remained untouched.
He wasn’t reading. You weren’t either.

You could feel it again — that pull. That ghost of something unfinished humming between you like a spell that had never been properly cast.

Neither of you said a word but something shifted, so subtle it might’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. Not to you.

You were still thinking about it the next morning when you walked into your classroom. Your steps slowed.

The desk in the back corner — the one with the cracked leg you’d been meaning to repair for weeks — now stood perfectly level. The wood had been smoothed, sanded, and fixed with an enchantment so precise, you knew exactly whose work it was.

A small, folded note sat atop it.

Couldn’t bear the thought of it collapsing mid-monologue. – S

You rolled your eyes. But the smile that pulled at your lips lingered longer than it should have. You kept the note. Tucked it into your pocket, fingers brushing the parchment more than once during your lectures that day.

And later—when the castle had quieted, when the hallways felt more like echoes of old memories than stone—you found yourself walking the long path down to the dungeons. You didn’t knock. Just slipped a note into the narrow gap beneath his office door.

Don’t get too smug about the desk.
I still remember the time your cauldron exploded in third year.
– Y/N

It was ridiculous. Petty. Childish, even.
But the next morning, when you walked past him in the corridor, you saw it—

The tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Like something inside him remembered how to smile.

And just like that, the old rhythm began to slip back in. One step at a time. Quiet. Unspoken. But real.

That evening you were walking back from a shared supervised detention (two fourth-years had tried to levitate a bench across the lake and failed spectacularly), your robe tugged tighter around your shoulders, hair damp from the wind. He walked beside you in silence.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I never forgot you.”

You stopped. He had said it so simply, without preamble, like it had been carved into his chest for years.

Your breath caught. “What?”

Severus looked at you now, really looked — and his expression was not unreadable anymore. It was open. Raw. Careful.

“I wanted to write. I just… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

You stared at him, a million things roaring through you at once.

“I thought you forgot,” you said quietly. “I thought I’d made it all up in my head.”

“You didn’t.” He exhaled, like the truth had cost him something.

“I thought of you more than I ever let myself admit.”

You searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then why did it feel like I never existed once we left?”

“Because I didn’t know how to reach you and I was a coward.”

You swallowed, heart thudding. “I would’ve answered.”

The air between you felt different — heavier, charged. You didn’t say anything else.

You just nodded and for the first time in years, you didn’t feel entirely alone in your remembering.

What neither of you noticed — lost in the weight of your long-overdue words — was that you weren’t alone.

Around the corner from where you and Severus stood, Three of the Hogwarts staff were huddled in silence.

Minerva was perched in front, clutching her tartan shawl like a lifeline. Sprout stood behind her, practically vibrating with excitement. Flitwick was attempting to peek over Minervas shoulder floating on a charmed Book.

“Did you hear that?” Pomona whispered. “He said he never forgot her.”

Minerva shushed her. “Of course he did, now quiet—!”

“I told you he was in love with her,” Flitwick hissed.

“I still can’t believe she asked why he didn’t write” Pomona whispered. “She said it, out loud!”

“And he’s actually responding,” Flitwick breathed, clutching the edge of the armor’s leg for support. “Look at his posture—he’s doing the vulnerable shoulder slump!”

“They’re standing too far apart for a kiss,” Minerva said, eyes narrowed. “Someone nudge them.”

Then—suddenly—another voice, low and amused, came from behind them.

“Should I be worried about this particular gathering of Hogwarts’ finest?”

The entire group jolted as one. Flitwick nearly fell off his book. Pomona squeaked. Minerva whipped around, wand half-raised.

Dumbledore stood there, eyes twinkling, hands calmly folded behind his back like he’d just stumbled across a garden party. He tilted his head.

Minerva cleared her throat sharply, stepping out with as much dignity as she could gather. “We were merely… ensuring the corridors were secure.”

“Secure the corridors you say…” Dumbledore looked down the hall toward where you and Severus are talking, an unmistakable glint in his eyes before speaking.

“Do carry on… securing the corridors.” Dumbledore turned around and spoke up again.

„Five Galleons on a kiss by the end of this month.“

And with that, he strolled off like he hadn’t just shattered the composure of three very accomplished professors. Minerva stared after him.

“…That man is infuriating,” she muttered.

“Well I bet Five galleons that he’s right,” Pomona said.

Flitwick groaned but didn’t disagree.

Chapter Text

Snow tapped softly against the tall, arched windows of the staff lounge, catching the flickering torchlight and making it look like the castle itself was breathing silver. Somewhere near the hearth, a kettle puffed steam in quiet intervals while the fire cracked gently in the grate.

It was late afternoon, and most of the staff had gathered for what Minerva liked to call “end-of-day civilised recovery” — which translated to tea, biscuits, and the occasional passive-aggressive jab depending on who was seated beside whom.

You sat curled in one of the velvet chairs, legs crossed, cradling a steaming cup between your hands as if warmth could settle the tangled unrest in your chest. It had been a long week. A longer month. A long everything.

Across from you, Minerva glanced over the rim of her glass with all the serenity of a seasoned general.

You could feel her staring. Which meant she was building to something.

“I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose,” you said, sipping your tea.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

You blinked at her. She didn’t blink back.

“I’m just saying,” you muttered, “that assigning Severus and me to every bloody shared committee, late-night supervision, and emergency corridor patrol feels… intentional.”

“Of course it is,” Pomona Sprout chimed in from her seat near the fire, cheerfully knitting a small scarf that looked suspiciously Slytherin-themed. “You two are terribly inefficient at staying apart.”

“Pomona,” you warned.

“Oh, don’t pout, dear. It’s charming in its own way,” she said, waving you off. “Besides, we’re tired of watching the dance. You were never afraid to say when you fancied someone.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Minerva simply smiled and sipped her brandy.

Your stayed even after the others left for the night. The castle was long asleep. Candles flickered low in their holders, casting golden shadows across your parchment-strewn table.

You were making last-minute notes for the next week’s curriculum when the door creaked open.

And of course, it was him.

Severus paused in the doorway, expression unreadable. “I was told we were both assigned to review the student dueling rosters before tomorrow.”

You stared at him for a beat. “Let me guess. Sprout?”

He nodded once. “With suspicious enthusiasm.”

You snorted. “They’re conspiring.”

Severus crossed the room and sat beside you with the same elegant restraint he always carried — a man built from tension and ironed lines. But tonight… he looked tired. Not just physically. Somewhere deeper.

“I’ve missed this,” you said softly before you could stop yourself.

He looked over, surprised.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I mean… the stillness. The fire. Late-night scheming. Planning chaos.”

His lip twitched. “You always did have an affinity for the night shift.”

You shrugged. “Less risk of being scolded by Flitwick for replacing corridor torches with glitter candles.”

“That was also you?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

A long pause. Then:

“Subtlety was never your strong suit,” Severus murmured.

“Please. My glitter charm work was practically invisible,” you replied with mock offense.

“Except for the glitter.”

“Minor detail.”

Somewhere between reordering dueling brackets and reviewing hex regulations, you reached for a quill.

So did he.

And once again — your hands touched but unlike last time, neither of you pulled away.

His fingers brushed yours briefly, barely, like an apology wrapped in hesitation. This time, it lingered — just long enough to make your heart stutter.

It wasn’t the brush of fingers that undid you. It was that he didn’t flinch and neither did you.

Without thinking, you reached up and brushed a speck of lint from his shoulder — just there, near the seam of his robes. His breath hitched.

“I—” you started, but he was already speaking.

“You still do that.”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Fuss over people.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “You did it back then too. You always said it was just habit, but I noticed.”

Silence bloomed again. Heavy. Meaningful. And then—

“I still remember the look on your face that night.” His eyes didn’t leave yours. “At the dance. Before everything slipped away.”

You didn’t breathe. Not for a second.

“I thought I was the only one who remembered,” you whispered. “That maybe… you just forgot. Let go.”

His gaze was steady. “I tried.”

Your breath caught.

“But I still see you every time I walk past the corridor where you hexed the Marauders,” he said. “Still expect to hear you singing Muggle rock from the Great Hall on a Tuesday morning.”

You swallowed hard. The words stuck in your throat — but he continued anyway.

“I thought you hated me for leaving without saying anything.” He looked down. “I hated myself for it.”

The fire crackled behind you. The parchment on the table remained untouched.
There were no clever comebacks now. No sharp retorts.

Only two people, sitting far too close, pretending not to tremble under the weight of a connection that had never truly gone quiet.

And still—neither of you moved.

By the next morning, everything was the same — on paper.

Same castle. Same breakfast. Same endless chatter of students but everything between you and Severus had shifted.

It was in the way he passed you books without being asked, and the way you bumped his elbow when he grumbled about the Daily Prophet’s grammar.

It was in the way he glanced at you during meals now — not sharply, not guarded — but like he was remembering who you were. Like he wanted to know who you were now. Even your banter had changed.

“Your handwriting is illegible,” you muttered one afternoon, glancing at his notes during a shared planning session.

“Forgive me for prioritizing logic over calligraphy,” he drawled.

“You write like a crow with a wand.”

“At least I don’t dot my i’s with hearts.”

You blinked. “I don't do that anymore!.”

“I noticed.”

You didn’t bother hiding your grin — and neither did he.

Across the room, Madam Hooch narrowed her eyes from her seat in the corner of the staff lounge. She watched the exchange between you and Severus for a full minute before speaking.

“Are they… flirting?”

Minerva choked slightly on her tea. “Don’t you dare—”

“I’m just saying—”

Pomona appeared beside her and smoothly looped her arm through Hooch’s. “Walk with me, Rolanda.”

Flitwick floated up beside them on a stack of books, looking far too pleased with himself. “We’ve been gently encouraging them for months.”

“Some of us placed bets,” Pomona added with a whisper-sharp grin.

Hooch blinked. “You’re telling me this now?”

Minerva glanced back toward you and Severus, who were now deep in discussion — your shoulders almost touching. “We didn’t want to jinx it,” she said dryly.

“They’ve danced around each other for years,” Flitwick chimed in. “But last night… I think something cracked open.”

Rolanda smirked. “Count me in, then. What’s the plan?”

“Subtle encouragement,” Minerva said primly.

Pomona grinned. “And mild interference.”

Flitwick wiggled his fingers. “And perhaps a few magically timed coincidences.”

“Welcome to the team,” Minerva said, clinking her teacup against Hooch’s with a smirk.

Across the lounge, Severus handed you a scroll, and your fingers brushed. You didn’t pull away.

He said something too quiet to hear — and you laughed.

Madam Hooch looked thoroughly delighted. “Oh yes,” she said. “They’re doomed.”

Chapter Text

Winter break brought with it a strange kind of hush over Hogwarts — like the castle itself had exhaled.

The corridors were quieter. The classrooms dimmer. Snow piled high on the windowsills, and even Peeves seemed too lazy to cause trouble. Most students had gone home for the holidays, leaving the remaining staff to enjoy a rare stretch of calm.

Which was precisely why Minerva had insisted on hosting a “small, quiet” staff dinner in the Great Hall. It was neither small nor quiet.

Someone — probably Flitwick — had enchanted the ceiling to show falling snow in soft spirals. A fire crackled in the hearth at the far end of the hall. The long staff table was littered with half-drunk wine goblets, scattered napkins, and the fading remains of an enchanted trifle that had exploded fifteen minutes prior.

You were seated across from Severus — of course — and the wine had made you dangerously relaxed. Not that you were flirting.

Absolutely not.

You were arguing. Obviously.

“If you’d just admit that your memory of that potion is slightly incorrect—”

“I will do no such thing,” you interrupted, waving your fork like a weapon. “I remember it perfectly. You, however, were too busy brooding into your cauldron with your handsome face to notice the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane—”

“They’re the same plant, you absolute menace.”

You gasped, offended. “I told you that! and you hexed my notes!”

“Only because you wrote them in glitter ink!”

“It was Beautiful!”

Severus rolled his eyes — but the corners of his mouth twitched. “You’re impossible.”

“And you are insufferable. You’re lucky I find you charming when you are wrong.” You raise your goblet to take another sip of the wine.

That earned a snort from Minerva, who was nursing a brandy a few seats down. Hooch nearly spit out her drink. Flitwick dropped his Goblet.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Pomona muttered, throwing down her napkin. “Just snog already.”

You choked on your wine. The room went still.

Severus, without missing a beat, calmly dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and said, “Maybe later.”

You were still coughing into your sleeve when laughter erupted around the table. Minerva actually giggled.

You glared at him. He had the audacity to sip his drink with the smallest smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered.

“You already said that.”

“Yes, well, it bears repeating.”

The teasing had turned dangerous lately. Flirtation masquerading as banter. Heated looks that lingered too long. Hands brushing, breaths catching, excuses to be close that no longer made sense. It was maddening.

It was perfect.

It was late when finally silence came into the Castle. The corridors empty save for the soft crackle of torches. Most professors had retired to their chambers, their bellies full from wine and laughter. You’d left the staff dinner with your pulse still fluttering from the chaos — from him.

From the way his voice dipped low when he teased you. From the way his fingers brushed yours when reaching for the wine. From the look he gave you when Pomona had said, too loud, “Just snog already”

You had choked on your wine. Mortified. Coughing into your sleeve while the entire table laughed — and he, infuriating as ever said words that probably been your downfall 

Maybe later.

You needed air after that. Or maybe just… him.

So when you found yourself outside his chambers after the castle had gone still, you told yourself it was just to return the book on defensive wards. A lie. But a comfortable one.

He opened the door looking like he hadn’t even bothered to sleep. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt undone at the collar, and his voice soft with surprise.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

You held up the book. “Thought I’d return this before I forgot.”

He stepped aside to let you in without another word. His chambers were quiet, dim, lit only by a few hovering candles. The walls were lined with shelves of worn books and meticulously labeled vials. You have never been in here, but somehow… it felt familiar.

Safe.

“I think I left the other volume in my study,” he said, already turning to head into the other room. “The one with the counter-curses. I will get it for you.”

You nodded, and as his footsteps faded, your eyes roamed the room. You didn’t mean to snoop.

Truly.

But there was something about the stillness — about standing there surrounded by the pieces of him he never showed anyone — that made your hands twitch. Your eyes caught on a drawer in the writing desk. It was open. Just slightly.

You hesitated. Then you stepped closer. He was still gone.

You checked.

Only then did you reach forward and ease the drawer open.

A stack of parchment sat inside. Not loose papers — but letters.

But what got you attention was that they all were addressed to you.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled the top one free and unfolded it. The ink was faded, the parchment yellowed with time.

July 29th, 1978

Y/N,

I saw you in my dreams again. You were standing on the Gryffindor table, barefoot, laughing — singing that ridiculous Muggle song I never learned the name of.

I think I miss your laugh the most.

It’s only been a month and already everything feels colder.

—S

Your breath caught.

You picked up and read another.

September 1th, 1981

(Y/n), 

Its my first day teaching at Hogwarts.

Merlin, you would’ve howled. The students are insufferable. I nearly lost my temper at a third-year who mistook bat spleens for newt tails.

I almost looked for you in the corridor outside the dungeons. I had to remind myself — again — you’re not here. 

You would have hexed me for how quiet I’ve become. Maybe that’s why I never sent this. Maybe I was afraid you’d forgotten me…

I hope wherever you are, you’re raising chaos and glitter.

I miss you.

—S

You could barely breathe. The letter you picked up now was newer. Less yellowed. The ink was sharp. The date…

A week before you started at Hogwarts.

August 25th, 1994

(Y/n),

I saw your name on the faculty list today.

I read it three times. I dropped my tea. I don’t know what to do with my hands anymore. I don’t know what to do with my heart either.

I hoped no one would see how my hands shook.

How do I look at you after all this time? Will it be like always or will I have to  pretend we were nothing?

Merlin I missed you so much.

—S

The paper trembled in your hands. Your chest felt tight. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

Your fingers trembled as you lowered the letter. The stack slipped from your hands, falling soundlessly to the floor. You stood there, stunned, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Looking for something?” His voice came from the doorway.

You turned sharply. He stood in the archway, book forgotten in his hand, eyes fixed on the letters at your feet.

You held your breath trying your hardest not to fall apart. “You did write me…”

He swallowed hard. “Every day…” A pause. Then, softer

“…until you were back.”

Your lips parted. “Why didn’t you send them?”

He looked down. Exhaled.

“Because I thought… I thought you’d moved on. That you’d laugh. Or worse… not answer at all.”

You stepped toward him, slow, deliberate. Your eyes never left his.

“You thought I forgot you.”

His gaze flickered up. Raw. Fragile. “Didn’t you?”

You shook your head, blinking fast against the tears. “No. Not once.”

The silence that followed cracked something open in the room.

The book fell from his hands and you both moved.

Your lips meet in the middle in a kiss that felt way to long overdue. It was desperate. Quiet. Trembling. A kiss made of years lost and words unsaid.

His hands clutched your waist like a man who’d been drowning for years. You held his face between your palms like you were afraid he’d disappear.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, your breath shared.

“So,” you whispered through a teary smile, “was that the ‘maybe later’?”

He smirked — just barely. “Yes I think it was.”

A pause.

“But I’d very much like there to be a now, too.”

You nodded. “Then don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

And he didn’t. Not that night.

Chapter Text

The morning after was quiet. Not awkward. Not tense. Just quiet.

A soft kind of quiet, like the world was still waiting to see what would happen next.

You woke slowly, still wrapped in the warmth of Severus’ chambers, the blanket smelling faintly of parchment, herbs, and something that was just him. The fire had burned low, casting amber shadows across the stone walls. You sat up, stretching lazily.

The space beside you was empty but still warm.

You padded out of the bedroom, barefoot and draped in one of Severus’ shirts, drawn by the clink of a teacup. He stood at the little counter near the hearth, sleeves rolled to his elbows, quietly steeping two cups.

He looked over his shoulder at your approach. „Morning."

You gave a sleepy smile. "Is that for me?"

"Of course.“

You took the cup from his hand and settled beside him on the sofa, legs tucked beneath you. You sipped. It was your favorite blend.

You raised a brow. "You remembered.“

"I never forgot.“

You gave him a look, but it softened quickly. "I want to read every single one of those letters.“

He didn’t meet your eyes. "I figured you might.“

"The ones I read yesterday were… dramatic.“

"I was young," he said dryly. "And pathetically in love.“

"Still are, maybe," you teased.

He looked at you, and in that moment, everything unsaid curled between you like smoke. You leaned in. He met you halfway.

The kiss was soft. Familiar. Like a thread that had never truly frayed.

The peace lasted exactly three hours.

Just as Severus was about to steal another kiss before breakfast, there came a 

rap-rap-rap at the door.

"Severus! Staff meeting in five minutes!" squeaked Flitwick from the hallway.

You jumped apart like teenagers. Severus muttered something venomous under his breath. You adjusted your collar and slipped out the back passage as Flitwick entered.

His eyes flicked to the rumpled blanket, the still-steaming tea, and then to Severus’ flushed ears.

He said nothing but grinned when he walked out the chamber again.

The staff meeting was already underway when you slipped into the staff room, cheeks still a little flushed. Severus followed close behind, his expression blank but the faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth.

You took the only two remaining seats—conveniently side by side.

Minerva arched a brow as you sat. "Late night, Professors?“

You didn’t answer. Severus didn’t even blink.

Pomona coughed discreetly and muttered something about finally.

The meeting dragged on with the usual business of corridor patrols and upcoming Hogsmeade weekends, but you felt the glances. Shared smirks. The air practically crackled with suppressed amusement.

When the meeting ended, Flitwick stood on his chair grinning from ear to ear 

„So pay up my dear friends!“

You blinked. "Excuse me?“

Minerva passed Flitwick ten Galleons before looking at you almost disappointed. 

"You should’ve kissed him in October. I would’ve won.“

Pomona and Rolanda went to pay Flitwick as well with grimm faces.

"Just a little betting pool when you two would finally get it together. I was sure you wouldn’t get it together for another 3 months at least.“

Severus scowled. "You… you placed bets on us?"

"Of course," Pomona said, utterly unapologetic. "We’re not blind you two had it coming for years.“

„Oh I betted that you two would kiss right before New Years" Flitwick said in a almost proud voice, „never thought I actually win though“

You groaned. „Unbelievable."

"You have no idea," Flitwick said cheerfully.

After that day you and severus tried to go on proper dates.

Emphasis on tried.

First attempt: a dinner beneath the stars in the Astronomy Tower. Peeves crashed through the window with a bucket of glitter.

"LOVERS IN THE TOWER! HOW SWEET, HOW SOUR!“

You spent the evening picking glitter out of Severus' hair.

Second attempt: tea in your office. Hagrid burst in, bleeding and breathless.

"Professor Snape! One o' the Nifflers bit me again!“

Third attempt: a quiet walk in the gardens. Interrupted by a panicked second-year with a bloody nose.

"Professor! I think I'm dying!“

By the time you collapsed into the empty staff lounge, both winded and slightly glitter-speckled, both of you were frustrated to no end.

Your fingers brushed his, and you sighed. Loudly.

"We're cursed.“

"We're employed," he said. "Same thing.“

"We are adults, we live in a literal castle, and we can’t even find fifteen minutes to snog properly.“

You dropped your head back against the cushions. Severus chuckled before pulling you closer and just as you leaned in to kiss—Sprout and Rolanda swept in mid-conversation. Behind them Minerva and Flitwick.

"And then the Mandrake screamed like my mother-in-law—oh! Hello!“

You and Severus froze.

"Honestly," you sighed, standing. "What does a woman have to do to just be able to make out with her boyfriend in peace?"

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Flitwick burst out laughing. Minerva arched a brow over her spectacles.

"Trying for some alone time, are we?"

Severus deadpanned, "Trying being the operative word."

After that, you and Severus learned to be creative.

You snatched moments in corridors pulling each other to private alcoves between classes To make out like teenagers. A brush of hands beneath the staff table. A stolen kiss behind a stack of cauldrons.

By the time dinner rolled around one evening, Severus cornered you just outside the Great Hall.

„Did you tell the Girls yet?“

You blinked. „Not yet no I was busy with other things why?“

"Because they’ll want to know from you before from anyone else. You could even invite them for the weekend“

You grinned at him and pulled him closer. „Oh yeah you have a good point but are you sure you want to invite them for one weekend?“

He leaned in, ghosting his mouth just shy of yours. „Yeah why not“

You kissed him and then laughed. "I’ll write them tonight and tell them but if they scream and cause chaos, you’re handling it."

That night, after dinner, you curled up in your quarters and penned a single letter:

Dear Cassie, Leona, and Nyra,

It’s happened. It’s real. No, I’m not hexing you. This is not a prank.

We kissed. It was glorious. He’s mine now. Prepare yourselves.

Bring drinks.

Love,

Y/N (and your Slytherin Prince)

You sealed it with a grin and handed it to your owl.

Far away in a flat filled with glitter and chaos, three witches read the letter.

Silence reigned for all of three seconds.

Then they screamed in perfect harmony.

Chapter Text

It began, as most memorable moments in your life did with noise like for this time: a broom hitting the ground.

You and Severus had been sneaking through one of the lesser-used corridors—a hidden passage that led to the Astronomy Tower—to have one of your make out sessions between classes. It didn’t take long before Severus had you pressed up on the wall and kiss you senseless in the empty corridor.

Or so you thought.

"Merlin’s bleeding socks," came a horrified gasp.

The two of you jerked apart to find Filch standing slack-jawed, his broom clattering to the floor. His face was pale like he’d witnessed a crime scene. “Professor Snape?! Professor (Y/L/N)?!”

You blinked. Severus straightened his robes with a barely repressed scowl.

“I need to—clean something,” Filch muttered, backing away like he’d seen something unholy. "Anything. Else. Anywhere. Else."

As the echo of Filch’s horrified footsteps faded, you and Severus leaned into each other, breathless with suppressed laughter. He brushed a curl from your cheek. 

“We need to be more careful,” he murmured. 

“We need to be faster,” you corrected, grinning before you pulled him close to you again.

„Sooo continue?“

He answered by kissing you again.

That afternoon, after sneaking out of the hidden passage undetected (well, aside from Filch), you and Severus finally got a few quiet moments together. 

Small things. A hand held under the table in the staffroom. Shared smirks across breakfast. A brush of fingers while passing in the hall.

You didn’t need grand gestures.

You had each other. At long last and with that the weekend arrived and with it the chaos of the past.

The sound of loud laughter echoed through the Entrance Hall before the doors even opened. Cassie, Leona, and Nyra entered like a well-rehearsed performance—Cassie twirling her wand, Leona in heels far too tall for castle stairs, and Nyra looking quietly amused but unmistakably smug.

“Y/N!” Cassie screamed and tackled you with a hug that nearly knocked you over.

Leona was next, inspecting you like a rare gem before smacking a kiss on each cheek. “You look too sober. Fix that immediately.”

Nyra gave you a knowing smile and pulled you into a gentler, longer hug. “So how was the snogging?”

You blinked. “How—?”

“We could tell from the walk,” Cassie said, tossing her hair. “You have the ‘just got kissed by a tall and grumpy man and loved it’ glow.”

Then they spotted him.

“SEVY!” Cassie cried out and dashed toward him.

Severus looked momentarily alarmed before she threw her arms around him. “Our Slytherin prince is alive and well! Merlin I missed you!”

Leona smirked and crossed her arms. “Well well look who got even more dark and Grumpy than before. What’s with all the black?”

“I could tell you but you probably wouldn’t understand” he muttered, but there was the faintest upturn at the corners of his mouth.

Nyra didn’t say a word, just patted his shoulder as if to say, Good to see you.

They fell into old rhythms instantly. Cassie was already grilling him about his current potions experiments. Leona was asking if he still used the same shampoo because “the softness is criminal,” and Nyra? She was eyeing the corridors like she was already planning her next prank.

Severus didn’t just tolerate it.

He leaned into it.

Your quarters exploded into chaos the second the door shut behind you.

Cassie threw her bag onto the couch like it owed her money. 

“Alright, what the hell is this domestic elegance, Y/N? Throw pillows? Coordinated drapes? Are you nesting?”

Leona kicked off her heels and made a beeline for your bed. “This is suspicious. Where’s the chaos? The floating candles? The questionable posters from our dorm room?”

Nyra wandered to your bookshelf, running a finger along the spines. “At least she’s still hoarding obscure spellbooks and old hex manuals. Some things never change.”

Before you could reply Severus stepped inside, one brow raised as he took in the scene: Cassie dramatically flopped across your armchair, Leona sprawled on your bed with one sock half-off, and Nyra holding a book titled Hexes You Can Laugh At (But Probably Shouldn’t).

He blinked once. “Should I be concerned?”

“No,” you said immediately.

“Yes,” said all three girls in unison.

Cassie turned to him with a grin. “Well our broody bat of the dungeons, want to make sure Y/N survives our love bombing?”

“Or steal her back,” Leona added, crossing her arms.

Severus sighed and muttered, “Merlin help me,” but he stepped fully into the room, walking toward you. His fingers brushed yours — a small thing, but the way your girls all immediately exchanged looks didn’t go unnoticed.

“You look tense,” you teased him under your breath.

“I’m in a room with four of the most dangerous witches I’ve ever met,” he murmured back. “Of course I’m tense.”

Cassie cooed. “Is that fear in your voice, Sevy?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “Just healthy survival instinct.”

Nyra set the book down and gave you a knowing smile. “Alright, now we need to talk.”

“We literally just got here,” you said, exasperated.

Leona smirked. “And yet, somehow, we’re still behind on details. You owe us everything.”

Cassie pointed at Severus. “Starting with how that finally became yours.”

“She tackled me in the corridor and declared me property,” Severus said smoothly, arms crossed.

“I did not!” you hissed, smacking his arm.

He smirked. “Well. Not in those exact words.”

The girls laughed, and within seconds the room was filled with loud voices, overlapping chatter, and someone (probably Cassie) conjuring firewhisky with a suspicious wink.

You and Severus exchanged a glance across the room — one filled with history, warmth, and maybe just a little disbelief at how naturally this chaos had returned and when you finally managed to corral them toward the Great Hall for dinner — Leona retouching her lipstick mid-walk, Cassie trying to link arms with both you and Severus, and Nyra humming some Muggle pop tune from your school days — you leaned closer to him and whispered:

“Welcome back to the circus.”

He glanced down at you, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I never really left.”

The Dinner that followed was nothing but mayhem.

The four of you took up half the staff table, with Severus sitting comfortably between you and Cassie as if no time had passed at all.

Cassie talked Severus’ ear off about her dramatic love life. Leona kept slipping glitter into everyone's drinks with subtle wand taps. Nyra hexed a spoon to levitate into Trelawney’s hair and Severus nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

And you—

You just sat there, watching the madness with a warmth in your chest you hadn’t felt in years.

Even the other professors were entertained. Minerva tried to look outraged but was stifling laughter behind her napkin. Sprout leaned toward Flitwick, whispering, 

“They’re all exactly the same.”

“What did you expect” Flitwick whispered back. “Even growing up has its limits”

“Lets just hope the castle halls stay Glitter free” Rolanda chuckled into her goblet.

After dinner, the real chaos began.

As the group slowly made their way from the Great Hall, the laughter echoing down the corridor, you fell into step beside Severus.

He glanced sideways, voice low. “They haven’t changed.”

“No,” you smiled. “But neither have you.”

He gave a soft snort. “I’d argue the opposite.”

You nudged his shoulder. “You belong into it. All of this. Us.”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just walked beside you, steps steady, close. Then he murmured, “I never thought I’d have this again.”

You turned to him, catching the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“You always had us, Sev and you will have this in the future.”

He didn’t answer—not in words—but when his fingers found yours in the corridor and laced them together, you squeezed his hand in return.

Behind you, Cassie whispered something scandalous that made Leona shriek with laughter, and Nyra muttered something about getting the firewhisky ready.

The sound of them made something warm swell in your chest.

The five of you spilled into your chambers in a swirl of laughter. Cassie collapsed onto the nearest armchair like a queen returning to her throne conjuring music with a lazy flick, Leona dropped to the floor with all the grace of a toppled statue, and Nyra summoned a tray of glasses of fire whisky midair with a casual flick of her wand. While Severus lit the fireplace before pulling you to sit on the couch with him.

It felt like back in seventh year in your old dorm room.

Nyra passed each one of you a glass before raising her own.

„To a quiet evening!“ She toasted which made Severus smirk and raise his eyebrow.

“Is this what you call a quiet evening?”

“This is quiet,” Nyra replied matching his smirk. “You should’ve seen us in fifth year when we smuggled five bottles of Dragon Barrel Brandy into our dorm room”

Cassie clinked her glass against yours laughing. „(Y/n) hexed the green house to sing, Nyra tried to brew a glitter potion and the cauldron exploded, Leona and me were just a mess.”

“And we still are” Leona added, lounging dramatically across the rug.

Severus laughed and pulled you closer.

You grinned before toasting

“To old habits, near expulsions, and the glorious mess we used to be.”

One glass turned into three and soon there was no way of actually telling just how many you all had. 

You were already leaning into Severus’ side when Cassie slurred out

“Honestly I still can’t believe you actually ended up with him. I mean I get it he is hot but still” 

“I’m right here you know,” Severus said dryly.

“I know,” Cassie replied with a smirk. “And I think you’re missing something.”

“Dignity?” he deadpanned.

You choked on your drink laughing as Cassie stood up with purpose.

“You know what you need Sevy? A makeover!”

She lunged for Severus with Leona’s lipstick. “Glitter lips for the broody prince!”

He actually laughed—head tilted back, proper amused. “Absolutely not. Try it and I hex you into next week.”

“But you would look so good!” Cassie grinned. „Just a little bit? Pleeease”

Leona laughed before falling off the couch „He doesn’t need lipstick he needs more color! We need to paint his nails again!“

That turned into and argument between Cassie and leona, while Severus just laughed at them both.

Nyra sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a faint, fond smirk before turning her eyes on you. “We should celebrate.”

“You mean—?”your eyes sparkled with mischief. You knew what she meant. Of course you did so you stood up and flicked your wand.

And the music started.

The same Muggle song from your infamous Great Hall performance all those years ago.

That took everyones attention. Leona and Cassie screamed while Nyra started whistling.

You climbed on the coffee table and started singing at the top of your lungs while dancing like all those years ago. Cassie soon joined, dragging Nyra and Leona along. 

The four of you danced like you were seventeen again.

Severus didn’t join the dancing—but he didn’t look away either. He sat there with his elbows resting on the back of the couch, his eyes locked on you, laughing quietly whenever one of your friends twirled too fast or stumbled into a chair or when you missed a step and tried not to lose balance.

When you finished, breathless and glowing, You walked straight up to him and pulled him up from the couch.

He didn’t hesitate and pulled you flush to his chest.

And then he kissed you. Properly. Slowly. Like he’d waited half his life.

Nyra whistled. Leona cheered. Cassie swooned dramatically onto the floor.

Later, when the bottles were all empty and the girls lay tangled on the floor in a mess of giggles and pillows, Nyra stood and walked over to Severus.

He was watching you, brushing your hair from your face as you laughed at Cassie’s story.

Nyra rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You two were always meant to find each other,” she said softly. “Don’t mess it up again. For the both of you.”

He met her gaze and nodded once.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Nyra left him with that quiet promise, drifting back toward the others, who were now sprawled across the cushions in various states of sleepy disarray.

Severus stayed where he was a moment longer, watching you—your head tilted back in laughter, cheeks flushed from drink and joy, your fingers lazily playing with the hem of your shirt as you teased Cassie about her terrible singing.

It hit him then, in that still moment between noise and quiet. This was what peace looked like.

This was what home felt like.

Eventually, the night pulled its weight. Cassie had curled up on the rug, mumbling something about needing a broom closet to nap in. Leona and Nyra were tangled on opposite ends of the couch, still bickering about glitter with slurred voices.

You were still trying to fight sleep when Severus gently took your mostly empty glass from your hand.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Time for bed.”

You blinked up at him, smiling like he’d just told you the moon was made of chocolate. “You're so handsome.”

He snorted. “You're drunk.”

“Still handsome though,” you mumbled as he helped you up. “Tall. Broody. Probably an excellent cuddler.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he muttered under his breath, arm steady around your waist as he guided you to your bedroom.

Once there, he helped you change and then lie down and kicked off his boots before climbing in beside you.

You immediately curled into him, arms wrapped tight around his middle. “You smell like potion books and sin.”

Severus huffed a laugh, brushing your hair back. “Go to sleep.”

“M’trying,” you mumbled, already halfway there. “But your face is distracting.”

He smiled into the dark. “Ridiculous woman.”

Chapter Text

You woke up to the soft glow of early morning, the castle still and quiet.

The blanket was warm, the air cool, and Severus—

Severus was fast asleep beside you. Your head was on his chest. His arm was curled protectively around you. One of your legs had tangled with his sometime in the night, and you were too comfortable to care.

You turned slightly, just enough to glance through the open doorway into the lounge—where Cassie had now rolled off the rug entirely, and Nyra was sprawled on her back, still wearing one shoe. Leona groaned something incoherent into a pillow.

You smiled despite the growing headache coming and simply tucked your head back against Severus’ chest with a happy sigh.

“Still handsome,” you whispered sleepily.

He stirred faintly, eyes still closed, one arm tightening ever so slightly around you as though he’d heard you from the edge of a dream.

You closed your eyes again, safe in the warmth of him, and let the morning linger a little longer.

Eventually, the inevitable came knocking—literally.

A loud bang echoed from somewhere in the lounge followed by a very groggy Cassie yelling, “Who put a table there?!”

Nyra groaned from the floor. “That table has been there since last night, you menace.”

Leona whimpered from under a blanket, “Someone make the sunlight stop existing.”

You and Severus exchanged a look. You were still curled against him, hair a mess, his shirt barely hanging off your shoulder.

He raised a brow. “Shall we?”

You sighed dramatically. “We probably should make sure they don’t burn the place down.”

The castle echoed with groans as the five of you made your way into the staff lounge.

Cassie lay facedown on the long table like she'd been hexed into unconsciousness. Leona sipped her pumpkin juice like it personally offended her. Nyra wore sunglasses indoors, her head cradled delicately in her hands.

Even you couldn’t deny the hangover that hit you full force the second you stood up. So you sat with your head on the table, eyes squeezed shut, every movement sending shockwaves through your skull.

And Severus?

He was infuriatingly chipper, handing out hangover draughts with a smirk that made you want to hex him out of sheer principle.

“I hate you,” Cassie groaned.

“You’re welcome,” he replied smoothly.

You lifted your head and gave him a narrow look. “How are you even upright? I feel like death.”

Nyra winced. “I think he’s immune. Or secretly drinking pepper-up potions on the side. I really wish we didn’t had the last sip of fire whisky“

Leona gagged in the corner. “Please don’t say potion and Fire whisky or I will lose all my dignity”

Severus settled beside you and gently rubbed your back, still fighting back laughter.

“Next time,” you muttered into your tea, “we’re drinking pumpkin juice.”

“Next time?” he teased, leaning in with that low voice of his. “Merlin help us all.”

You smirked despite yourself. “You say that, but you love it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I never said otherwise.”

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of hangover draughts, quiet groans, and half-hearted laughter.

Eventually, the girls peeled themselves off the furniture one by one. Cassie made a dramatic show of collapsing onto your bed again, Nyra muttered something about “the floor being her destiny,” and Leona managed to brush her hair while sipping water like it was a potion for survival.

You and Severus stole brief glances through it all—those small looks that said everything without needing words. His hand brushed yours when you passed him a mug. He tugged your sleeve gently when you looked like you might collapse back into bed instead of drinking the tonic he brewed just for you.

Later that afternoon, the castle felt quieter. Softer. A gentle kind of still.

You and the girls wandered the halls together once more, your arms linked. You paused outside old classrooms, traced initials still faintly carved into the wood of the Astronomy Tower steps, laughed until you couldn’t breathe at memories that used to feel so far away. Severus walked beside you through it all—quiet, observant, a shadow that never left your side. 

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t intrude. He was just there, where he always should have been.

In the late afternoon, you all ended up on the back lawn near the lake, bundled in cloaks and scarves as the wind swept gently across the water. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting everything in a soft gold.

The girls told old stories—of pranks, of near-expulsions, of dances and duels and everything in between. McGonagall joined you briefly, perched on a stone bench with a rare smile as Cassie recounted the time you turned the entire Slytherin dorm silver for a week.

Severus had his arm around your shoulders, your fingers loosely linked in his lap. Every once in a while, he'd murmur something in your ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and you'd laugh—genuinely, openly, like you hadn’t in years.

When the sun began to set, the girls finally stood, brushing snow from their cloaks.

Nyra hugged you first, firm and silent, her words caught in the crease of her brow.

“You’re safe here,” she said softly. “And you’re happy. That’s all I needed to see.”

Cassie nearly crushed you with her embrace, whispering dramatically, “If you don’t invite us to the wedding, I will hex you.”

Leona rolled her eyes but kissed your cheek anyway. “You know where to find us when you need chaos.”

They hugged Severus, too. Cassie gave him an actual kiss on the cheek. Nyra squeezed his arm. Leona smirked and muttered, “Don’t screw it up, Snape.”

And just like that, they were gone—vanishing through the gates with laughter on the wind.

The castle quieted again.

You and Severus stood in the fading light, hand in hand, breath mingling in the winter air and when he looked at you, everything that had once been uncertain… was no longer.

The castle felt slower after they left. Not emptier—just quieter. Like it was exhaling.

You and Severus stayed mostly in the dungeons, in that little corner of Hogwarts where the walls had begun to feel like yours. It was in the way your coat now hung beside his near the door, your books stacked beside his favorite chair, your laughter echoing softly in spaces that once only knew silence.

There was no chaos just you and him, falling into the rhythm of something real.

One evening, a soft snow began to fall outside the high, narrow window when you moved the last of your things into your now shared quarters. 

You sat on the floor by the fireplace, wrapped in one of his oversized jumpers, your knees drawn up as you idly stirred a mug of hot chocolate with your wand. Severus sat behind you, legs on either side of yours, his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You were both quiet, watching the fire flicker.

"Do you regret it?" you asked suddenly, voice low. „That we didn’t have the courage to speak up sooner?“

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and whispered, “I regret not being braver but never you”

You turned to look at him, heart soft. “I guess we’re here now.”

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “And I intend it to stay.”

The clock ticked softly in the background. The fire crackled. You leaned into him more fully, letting your head rest against his chest.

“I used to imagine this,” you said. “Not just us… but the quiet. The warmth. I thought I lost it for good after graduation.”

He tightened his arms around you.

“You never lost me,” he said simply. “Even when I was far away… you were the only thing I remembered clearly.”

You blinked, trying to smile through the ache in your chest. “Sap.”

He huffed, but didn’t deny it.

You reached for him before you could think, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then finally his lips. Slow and soft. Grateful.

The dungeons had a way of silencing the world. Down here, no one expected laughter or softness or warmth. But in the quarters now shared between you and Severus, the silence was different.

It was gentle. Content. Full of unsaid things and everything left to feel.

It was only a few days later when you found yourself in a very similar position like when you first moved in.

You sat curled on the couch in a soft jumper, legs tucked beneath you, the fire throwing golden light across the stone floor. Severus had just finished marking a stack of dreadful third-year essays, his brow furrowed in quiet frustration that slowly eased the moment he looked at you.

He set the quill down and walked toward you, the shadows of the room flickering behind him.

You looked up. "You done judging hormonal eleven-year-olds on their terrible potion choices?"

"Barely. One of them confused fluxweed with dandelion root. I'm contemplating resignation."

You smiled, leaning over to grab something from the satchel beside the couch.

"I have something for you," you murmured, suddenly unsure. "I… was going to wait. But it felt like tonight."

He raised a brow, curious, and sat beside you. You handed him the box. Small. Wrapped in soft green ribbon.

He looked at it like it might bite.

"Go on," you said.

He opened it carefully. The moment the lid lifted, his breath caught.

Letters. Dozens of them.

His own handwriting stared back at him, familiar and slanted.

"These…"

„Are yours," you said gently. „I finished reading them all but that’s not the gift“

Severus didn’t move for a long moment. Then slowly, he lifted one and opened it.

His eyes scanned the page. Then another. And another.

He looked up, stunned. "You… answered them?“

„I started reading them and I kind of felt sad when I was done" you said. „So I started writing back. I thought… they deserved to be answered even if its been way to long"

He pulled another letter free. He read silently, a faint shimmer behind his eyes.

"You didn’t had to do that" he whispered.

"I know but I wanted to."

You moved closer, shoulder to shoulder, warmth pressed between you. Letter by letter, you read pieces aloud, laughter breaking through between them, some quieter. More tender.

"You wrote about the Astronomy Tower," you murmured, touching one page. "How you kept going back even after I left. Just to see the stars like we used to."

"It was the only place that still felt like you."

You looked at him then, your heart aching.

He set the letters back in the box. But something else slipped between the parchment.

A small page old and faded. Severus reached for it—but paused.

He hadn’t written this one.

The words were scrawled across it in your handwriting:

July 3rd, 1978

Severus,

I love you.

- yours (y/n)

He stared.

You reached out, brushing your fingers over his.

„This is the only letter I never sent" you whispered. "It was always you."

Severus leaned in before he even registered it. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow. Deep. Unapologetic.

Years collapsed into seconds. All the near-misses, the heartbreak, the distance, the ache — it poured into the press of his lips against yours.

When he pulled back, his voice cracked with something fragile.

"I love you."

You smiled, eyes glassy. "Always have."

He kissed you again, softer this time, forehead resting against yours. You sat like that for a while, the fire crackling quietly around you.

Eventually, your hands found each other again, fingers twining as if they’d never been apart.

The castle corridors were quiet when you stepped outside.

You and Severus walked hand-in-hand through the dim torchlight, past moving portraits and sleepy staircases. The hour was late. The halls were empty.

Except for a few lingering professors.

Flitwick passed you in the Entrance Hall and beamed so hard you thought he might combust. Sprout caught your eye and gave you a sly wink. Even Hooch exchanged a knowing glance with Minerva and muttered something about finally.

As you passed the Great Hall, you paused, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling. Stars glowed faintly in the dark velvet sky above.

You smiled, voice soft with memory. "Still think I’m chaos incarnate?"

Severus looked down at you. His hand tightened gently in yours.

"Yes," he said. "But now you're my chaos."

And as the stars shimmered above, you leaned into him, your forehead against his shoulder, laughter caught in your chest, and finally, everything felt like home.

Between you, a simple ring glittered on your finger.