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Hiii So you know how Remus&Tonks met and fell in love with each other during the order meetings? And how he refused to acknowledge her feelings at first? Reader is an auror at the ministry(Her and Tonks are bestiesss). She has a crush on Severus since her school years and her feelings resurfaced when she met him at meetings. Reader confessed to Sev but he is in denial. So her and Tonks basically have to comfort each other because their crushes are so blind. The rest is really up to you (an happy ending if possible) Thankyou!
Hey!
Sooo basically I started writing and then I kept writing and then I realized it's gonna be another long oneπ
So here it is.
I hope you enjoy!
Blind Spots
You met Tonks your very first week at Hogwarts.
Not in a grand, fate-sealed way. You were both trying to get through the same too-small doorway between the main corridor and the Transfiguration stairwell and ended up elbowing each other in the ribs. She swore loudly. You apologized. She grinned and asked if you wanted to trade one of your Cauldron Cakes for her extra Sugar Quill. It was an uneven deal.Β
You traded without thinking about it.
From there, it was natural.
You were drawn to her like gravity. She had this energyβloud, impulsive, impossible to ignore. Always knocking over her ink pot or tripping up the stairs. Her hair changed color constantly, sometimes by accident. Sometimes on purpose. You found it fascinating. Not just the magic, but herβher fearlessness, her ridiculous jokes, the way she could light up a room just by walking in.
She liked that you were quieter. That you always carried extra parchment, and didnβt laugh when she asked you to help her charm her homework to sing. You balanced each other out. She got you into trouble. You got her out of it. By third year, people had stopped referring to you as individuals. It was always "Tonks and her shadow" or "You know, the one Tonks always follows."
Late nights in the library turned into whispered stories and half-written notes passed back and forth in class. You talked about everythingβteachers, spells, what it might be like to be grown up and away from all this. She wanted to be everything: a curse-breaker, a magizoologist, maybe a spy. You wanted to become an Auror since your second year.
It was in your fifth year that she found out your well kept secret.
It was after Potions class. Tonks was, once again, halfway through ranting about how unfair Snape was when you slipped up and said,
βBut heβs not wrong, really. His feedbackβs justβ¦ intense.β
Tonks tilted her head, smirking. βYou defend him a lot for someone who supposedly hates his guts.β
βI donβt defend him,β you said, a little too quickly.
βOh, you absolutely do. Merlinβs saggy leftβDo you fancy Professor Snape?β
βI do not!β
"You do! You are even blushing!"
Your silence was damning.
Tonks burst out laughing. βYouβve got a crush on the King of Scowls! This is fantastic.β
You buried your face in your hands. "He..isn't so bad...he just... he has this aura about him....β
She leaned back dramatically, hand to her heart. βYour secretβs safe. But Iβm never letting you forget this.β
And she didnβt. For the rest of school, it was a running jokeβher nudging you every time Professor Snape entered a room, or drawing little hearts next to his name in your notes. But behind the teasing was something steadier.
She never mocked you in front of others. Never crossed a line. And when she saw how your face fell after one of his colder comments, she was the first to hand you a chocolate frog and change the subject.
You were best friends in the truest sense: no ceremony, no drama. Just loyalty. Comfort. A quiet kind of love you didnβt have words for back then.
Even after school ended, you and Tonks never driftedβnot even for a moment.
If anything, you got closer. While others scattered to different departments, continents, or careers, you and Tonks made one unspoken decision: stick together. You applied for Auror training the same week, got accepted the same day, and started the grueling program under Alastor Moody with matching black eyes and bruised ribs within the month.
Moody was ruthless, paranoid, and brilliant. He didnβt care who your family was or what grades you gotβhe cared if you could think under pressure and survive being cursed in six different ways before breakfast.
Tonks thrived in chaos. You thrived by thinking three steps ahead. He hated that you came as a package deal, but even he had to admit: you worked well together.
Youβd train all day, then collapse back into the tiny, crooked apartment youβd scraped together rent for in the dodgiest corner of Diagon Alley. The floors creaked, the windows stuck, and your upstairs neighbor was most definitely raising something illegal, but it was yours.
Living together felt like an extension of schoolβonly messier.
Tonks left clothes in every room, sang off-key in the shower, and brewed experimental teas that occasionally exploded. You organized the spice rack alphabetically, hexed a laundry-folding charm into the sofa cushions, and always had healing balm stocked. She stole your socks. You stole her biscuits. She changed her hair color depending on your mood more often than her own.
It worked.
On the hard daysβwhen Moody tore you down in training or your legs ached from endless drillsβyouβd both sprawl across the living room floor, limbs tangled, laughing at nothing.Β
She never lets you spiral. Not for long. The second you start sounding even vaguely self-pitying, she cuts in with,Β
"Okay, but letβs not forget your ex once hexed his own eyebrows off because he thought you were flirting with a waiter."
You nearly choked laughing when she said that the first time. You still do.
She was your family.
β
Auror life is exhausting. Between endless paperwork, midnight patrols, and cleaning up after Ministry scandals, you barely have time to breathe.
One night, she arrives looking unusually serious. The door slams shut behind her, and she tosses her coat over the back of a chair before saying, "Moody pulled me aside after our patrol. Said he wants us both at a meeting tomorrow night. Confidential. Off the record."
You blink. "Order of the Phoenix?"
She nods. "Didnβt say it out loud, but come on. What else would it be?"
You stare at her, letting that sink in. You've heard whispersβof Dumbledore assembling people, of something bigger than what the Ministry's pretending to handle. You didnβt think youβd be pulled into that.
Tonks flops onto the couch. βTold him weβd be there. He grunted, which Iβm pretty sure was approval.β
With the flat dim and quiet, the weight of it settles in. You get up to make more tea. She adds some dragon brandy to both mugs without having to ask.
βWhat do you think itβll be like?β you ask.
She shrugs. βDunno. Moody said to βexpect people you wonβt like but will have to trust.β So... tense. Probably weird. Dangerous.β
You sit beside her, knees touching. βYou think itβs real? That this...war thatβs comingβitβs as bad as they say?β
Tonks doesn't answer right away. Her hair shifts to a darker shade, a sign sheβs thinking hard. Then she says quietly, βI think itβs worse. And I think weβre going to be in the thick of it.β
You nod. Sip your tea. Try not to let your hands shake.
βWhatever happens,β she adds, bumping her shoulder into yours, βyou and me? Still a team. We will go through it together.β
βAlways.β
You both fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch that night, the warmth of your shared blanket and mission stitching something fierce and unspoken between you.
The next night, you and Tonks arrive earlyβMoodyβs orders, of course. Grimmauld Place is a little more haunted-house than war base, all dim lighting, creaky staircases, and portraits that grumble as you walk past.
Tonks manages to trip over the umbrella stand before the front door even closes behind you. You grab her elbow just in time to keep her from face-planting into a side table.
βOff to a graceful start,β she mutters, fixing her hairβwhich shifts from a calm brunette to an agitated mustard yellow. βAt this rate weβll get kicked out before weβre recruited.β
βDonβt touch anything, the walls look like they will curse you otherwise.β you whisper, eyeing a snarling family tree on the wall.
Inside the drawing room, you find a loose ring of chairs forming around a big table. Most of the seats are still empty, but the few people already there give you a once-overβKingsley nods at Tonks and you briefly giving you a small thumbs up. Moody grunts and gestures toward two chairs.
You and Tonks drop into them immediately. She leans toward you. βWhoβs that?β
βPretty sure thatβs Emmeline Vance. See the robes? Old school dueling champion.β
Tonks raises an eyebrow. βThink sheβd train me? I want to win at something other than βmost likely to trip over her own wand.ββ
You stifle a laugh.
More people start to arriveβMolly and Arthur Weasley step through the door, Arthur spotting you and Tonks immediately.
He gives a warm, fatherly smile and says, βAh, good to see you girls here,β before settling into a seat beside Kingsley.
A moment later, someone you recognize from old newspaper clippings and reputation alone strolls inβSirius Black, all swagger and shadows, jaw clenched like heβs constantly daring someone to challenge him. Tonks elbows you excitedly. βThatβs my cousin. Heβsβ¦ complicated.β
Before you can answer her
The air shifts.
Severus Snape steps through like a shadow that decided to walk on two legs. Tall, severe, with his long black robes trailing behind him like smoke. His presence drags silence with it, unsettling and total. Heads turn. Conversations die.
You fall halfway out of your chair, catching your shin on the table leg and wincing loudly. Tonksβ hand darts out to yank you back into your seat.
βOh Merlin,β she breathes. βIs thatβoh, it is. Itβs him.β
You try to school your face into something neutral, something professionalβbut your ears are definitely hot.
βIt's actually him! It's Snape!β she hisses, kicking your ankle.
βI can see that!β
Severus sits across the circle, arms crossed, looking like every chair personally offended him.
Tonks leans in. βHe still looks like he bathes in vinegar and regrets. But I canβt lie, the hair works in this lighting.β
You glare at her. Before you can reply, the door opens again.
Remus walks in quietly, a book tucked under his arm, soft robes brushing the floor. His expression is mild, almost absent, until he sees Moody and nods and then takes the empty seat next to Sirius.
Tonks makes a sound between a cough and a hiccup. Her hair immediately floods pink.
You stare at her. βYou okay?β
She whispers, βWho is that? AndΒ Where has he been hiding all my life?β
βProbably reading somewhere with better lighting,β you murmur.
βI want to marry his jumper,β she breathes.
βYou donβt even know him yet.β
βI can dream.β
The meeting starts, but neither of you register more than every third word.
Moody launches into a gruff update about shifting patrol assignments, but your brain is too busy trying to process how Severus still looks more like a storm wrapped in robes than a man. Heβs scribbling something in a small, weathered notebook with quick, precise movements, and every so often he glances upβhe never looks at you, thank Merlin, but you canβt help flinching each time, just in case.
Next to you, Tonks is sitting bolt upright, hands folded like sheβs trying to behave. Her hair is still a bit too pink and her eyes havenβt left Remus for more than five seconds at a time.
βStop looking at him like heβs your Patronus,β you whisper sideways.
She whispers back, βHe probably is my Patronus.β
You bite down a snort. Emmeline Vance begins correcting the placement of some ward markers on a wall map, but all you see is how Remus rubs the edge of his thumb along the side of a parchment, brows furrowed in thought.
And then Severus speaks.
"They are shifting their operations to Wiltshire. Youβre wasting time watching Knockturn Alley."
His voice slices across the room like a spell. Cold, certain, unmistakably him.
You gasp, too audibly. Heads turn.
Tonks promptly kicks your shin under the table. "Subtle," she hisses.
You hiss back, βHe justβtalked.β
βHeβs allowed to talk!β
You sink lower in your chair. βDid you hear his voice? Itβs like dark velvet and guilt.β
Tonks makes a strangled noise. βOh Merlin, stop.β
βYou stop looking at Remus like heβs a dessert trolley.β
βAt least mine smiles. Yours looks like heβd rather be hexed than hugged.β
βYours literally has holes in his sleeves.β
βHeβs rustic!β
βRustic?!?β
You both clamp your mouths shut when Kingsley raises an eyebrow in your direction.
The next few minutes are spent pretending to jot notes while only half-listening to talk of safehouses and encrypted messages. Meanwhile, Severus licks a smudge of ink from his finger before turning the page of the notebook and you fall out of your chair again.
Tonks catches your expression and covers her mouth with her sleeve.
When Moody finally closes the meeting with, βGet some rest. Tomorrow, the real work begins,βΒ both you and Tonks almost jump up from your seats and bolt out of Grimmauld Place.
The moment your flat door slams shut behind you, she lets out a sound somewhere between a squeal, a gasp, and a tiny scream.
βOkay. Okay, what just happened?β she blurts, pacing like sheβs being chased by her own thoughts. βRemus isβHeβsβHe looks like a worn-out library book I want to press to my chest and never return.β
You drop your bag by the door and collapse onto the couch, your face still flushed. Tonks flops onto the couch beside you with all the grace of a flobberworm. βAnd then he spoke. His voice is like chamomile tea and rainy Sundays.β
βYour hair turned aggressively pink.β
βI panicked!β she whines. βI didnβt even say anything to him, just made weird eye contact and probably looked like I was about to confess to a crime.β
You let out a whine at the memory of the meeting βI actually almost fell out of my chair when Severus walked in. Thatβs so embarrassing! Itβs like my body decided to reenact Swan Lakeβhorribly.β
Tonks howls. βYou did jerk like he cast a silent spell at you. And your faceβpure panic. I thought heβd hexed you just by walking past.β
You throw a pillow at her. βSeverus Snape, Tonks! You know Iβve never really gotten over it.β
βOh, I knew, but seeing it live was ten times more dramatic than I expected.β
You sigh, flopping back with a groan. βHe still has that voice. That impossibly sharp, cold-as-ice, absolutely-donβt-talk-back voice. He spoke and I forgot what year it was.β
βHe licked ink off his thumb and you went into cardiac arrest,β Tonks snorts.
βI did not.β
βYou absolutely did.β
βWell Iβm not sorry about it!β
Silence stretched between you. Both completely lost in your own thoughts of what happened at the meeting.
After what seemed hours Tonks exhales dramatically and mutters, βWeβre going to die. And itβs going to be because we were too busy making heart-eyes to notice a hex.β
You nod still mentally recovering. βThis will be the end of us. But seriously how can you fall for someone you just saw and didnβt even speak to?β
Tonks covers her face. βHow can you still be crushing on a man who looks like heβd rather die than compliment anyone?β
βRemus probably owns exactly three shirts and thinks wool counts as formalwear.β
βWeβre both doomed,β she says, grinning.
You sigh dramatically.Β
Tonks leans her head on your shoulder. βI give it a week before one of us doodles hearts in our field report.β
βToo late,β you mumble.
She gasps, sitting up. βYou didnβt.β
You glance away. βJust initials. Maybe. Twice.β
Tonks lets out a scandalized squeal and whacks you with a cushion. βYou are hopeless.β
βCompletely hopeless,β you agree, laughing.
And the flat rings with itβrelief and giddy, schoolgirl chaos and something sweeter hiding underneath.
β
At all the meetings that came after that, you try to focus. You really do. But every time Severus speaks, you feel it againβthat familiar spark just beneath your ribs. His voice is still cold, deeper than you remember from school, tinged with exhaustion. But thereβs still that fire in it. A quiet, deadly fire that ignites something in you every time he opens his mouth.
You swore to yourself that youβre going to speak to him. You even rehearse it in your head. You even walked up to him after the meetings ended, only to chicken out and pretend to check a parchment on the wall. Or tie your boot. Or suddenly remember a nonexistent appointment.
Every. Single. Time.
Tonks, meanwhile, is thriving.
She starts chatting with Remus after meetingsβlittle things at first. Passing the sugar when they gather in the kitchen afterward. Asking him what heβs reading. Making him laugh with some absurd story from work.
You watch it all unfold with awe. Tonks, so bold and awkwardly charming, and Remus, who slowly stops avoiding eye contact and starts seeking her out.
βYou should just finally talk to him,β she whispers to you during one particularly long and boring debrief about apparition grid safety.
βI will,β you whisper back.
βYou wonβt.β
βShut up.β
She grins and nudges you with her knee under the table.
But she was right, at the rate you were going, you never actually going to talk to him.
Every time Severus meets your eyes, it's like looking straight into a Pensieve full of barbed wire. And no matter how many times you remind yourself youβre not a teenager anymore, your stomach still flips like one.
So you sit. And you listen. And you steal glances. And you wait.
"Youβre staring again," Tonks mutters one night, bumping your knee under the table.
"Was not."
She raises an eyebrow. "You absolutely were. Want me to spill my Butterbeer on him so you can swoop in with a napkin and a smile?"
"That is the worst plan Iβve ever heard."
"Worked on Remus."
You both glance across the table. Remus, is currently nose-deep in a book and doing a stellar job pretending everyone doesnβt exist, not even really bothering to listen to what's talked about..
"Worked?" you snort. "He's pretending you're part of the wallpaper."
"Because he's noble," she says, grimacing.
You laugh, but the ache lingers. Youβre women in waiting. Orbiting two emotionally unavailable men.
Suddendly the tension at the meeting turns thicker than dragonhide. Severus just brought up faulty recon near Malfoy Manor, when Sirius bristles like heβs been hexed.
βOf course youβd know all about Malfoyβs whereabouts,β Sirius snaps, leaning forward in his chair like heβs spoiling for a duel. βStill keeping in touch with your old mates, are you Snivellus?β
Severus doesnβt even look at him. βUnlike you, Black, I donβt rely on nostalgia and guesswork.β
Sirius laughs humorlessly. βRight. Because nothing says trustworthy like a Dark Mark and a superiority complex.β
βBetter a mark I chose to turn from than a name I hide behind while rotting in my familyβs attic,β Severus replies, voice razor-sharp.
Remus lowers his book finally and steps in, calm but firm. βAlright, letβs notββ
βNo,β Sirius cuts him off, eyes flashing. βLetβs. Why is he even here? Why should we trust a man who only shows up when itβs convenient and slinks back into the shadows the moment itβs dangerous?β
Severus turns to him slowly. βAnd what is it you do? Aside from pacing the floorboards and snapping at people who are actually risking something?β
Sirius shoots to his feet. βIβve fought for this causeββ
βFought?β Severus scoffs. βHiding in your parents house with a bottle of firewhisky isnβt fighting.β
Sirius sneers, voice rising, "Says the greasy little git who spent half his life licking Voldemortβs boots? You are not loyal. You'reΒ pitiful. Always hanging around in the corner like a curse no one bothered to lift."
Your chair screeches as you stand. βEnough!β
Everyone freezes.
Your voice rises, sharp and blistering. βHow dare you!? Severus stands in front of that monster alone risking his life every single second just so we have intel on what's going on! He could have run away but he doesn't and keeps risking being found out. While youββ your voice cracks with furyββyou sit in this house, barking like a chained dog, snapping at anyone who reminds you that the world kept turning without you.β
Sirius starts to speak, but youβre already on fire. βYou think sneering at him makes you brave? You think calling him names makes you useful? The only thing you've contributed to this war in months is your bitterness. At least Severus earned his place at this table. What exactly have you done, besides act like a schoolboy with a grudge?β
The air goes dead still. Even the walls seem to hold their breath.
βYou think you know himββ Sirius tries again.
βI know enough,β you snap. βI know he doesnβt get praise. He doesnβt get friends or thank youβs or a warm bed at night. He gets suspicion and scars. And he still shows up. While youβyou sit here and hurl insults like itβs a Quidditch match and youβre mad no one handed you the snitch. So unless you do not actually have anything damn useful to say. Sit your whiny ass down and shut up!β
The silence that follows is absolute. Even the portrait on the wall stops muttering.
Severus stares at you like youβve hexed the floor out from under him.
You sit back down, fists clenched in your lap, breath tight.
No one dares to speak up for a long time.
Sirius slowly sinks back into his chair, his jaw tight but silent. He doesnβt look at you. Or anyone. For once, his mouth stays shut.
Remus glances at you, something flickering in his eyesβsurprise, respect, maybe even a little awe. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling.
Tonks leans over and whispers, βYou mightβve actually broken him.β
Around the room, others are blinking. Molly and Arthur look like proud parents, whose child just won every trophy possible. Kingsley hides a smirk behind his hand. Even Moody tries not to smirk.
But Severusβhe doesnβt move. He just keeps staring at you. Not with his usual scowl or cold detachment, but with something harder to decipher. Like heβs seeing you properly for the first time. And thatβs when the heat crawls up your neck.
You suddenly realize what youβve done.
You look down, mortified. You just publicly annihilated the cousin of your best friend, defended the most controversial man in the Order, and now youβre being stared at like you grew another head.
You cough into your sleeve and mutter, β...Too much?β
Tonks snorts. βPerfect amount.βΒ
"Alright, back on track." Moodyβs voice boomed out, snapping the room back to order. The meeting limped along to its conclusion, mostly quiet, the usual sniping and debates subdued.
When it finally ended, you stood slowly, still feeling the echo of your own voice in your chest. Molly had cookedβan impressive spread of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pasties, and buttered carrotsβand people lingered more than usual.
To your surprise, Severus didnβt vanish like usually. He stayed and even took a plate.
You and Tonks found yourselves off to the side, standing half in the doorway, watching the group move about the kitchen.
βI still canβt believe you said all that,β Tonks said around a mouthful of roast. βYou basically put Sirius Black in his place and he just sat down like he was a child. A really quiet one.β
You rubbed your hands over your face. βHe just really pissed me off with what he was saying. I wanted him to shut up.β
βYou should be proud. It was art. Molly looked like she wanted to applaud. Remus definitely did mentally.
"I am never going to talk ever again.β
βThatβs a shame,β came a low voice behind you.
You jumped.
Severus.
Tonks blinked at him, blinked at you, then grinned so wide her cheeks dimpled. βRight. Iβll justβgo pretend I have something to do in the pantry.β
She disappeared with a wink, leaving you suddenly very alone.
Severus stood a few paces from you, holding a cup of tea. He didnβt look angry. Justβ¦ unreadable.
βI didnβt need you to stand up for me,β he said finally.
βI know,β you replied, meeting his eyes. βIt wasnβt about that. I justββ You hesitated. βI couldnβt stand hearing him yap through another meeting. Heβs like a howler that never shuts off. And what he was saying about you was just not okay.β
A pause. And thenβunexpectedlyβhis mouth twitched. Not a smile. But close.
He looked at you again, longer this time. βYou were alwaysβ¦ persistent.β
Your brain short-circuited. βWhat?β
βIn class,β his voice is calm but there is a hint of amusement in it. βFifth year onward. Asked more questions than most. Top marks. Except for that one explosion.β
Your face went hot. βThat wasnβt my fault. The instructions in the textbook were vague.β
He hummed lowly.Β βOr perhaps you were too eager to impress.β
You stared at him, flustered. βPotions was always my favorite subject. Even when you gave me detention for answering questions too quickly.β
His mouth twitched.Β βYou were never just quick. You were thorough. Meticulous. Determined to prove yourself. The detention was for yelling the answer and not raising your hand.β
Your breath caught.Β βYou noticed that?β
A pause. Then, very quietly:Β βI notice more than people think.β
For the first time, you were having an actual conversation with him. It felt strange. And strangely easy.
His eyes lingered. βYou were alwaysβ¦ precise. Focused.β
You swallowed, heart stumbling. βYou were always terrifying.β
That got the faintest curve from his lips.
And just like that, something shifted.
You start talking. Not muchβshort exchanges after meetings about potions techniques, obscure ingredients, or the ridiculousness of certain assignments. But he listens. And replies. Sometimes with a sarcastic edge. Sometimes with real curiosity.
Once, you ask about a text on defensive elixirs. He recommends three others, more advanced, quotes the page numbers without blinking, and mutters, βTry not to incinerate anything this time. Though I assume the eagerness hasnβt worn off.β
You grin. βOnly one cauldron ever died. And it died bravely.β
He almost smiles. Almost.
Sometimes, the conversations shift sideways. You end up snickering beside him when Sirius whines for the fifth meeting in a row about being left out of missions.
βI do wonder how he breathes between monologues,β Severus murmurs.
βBarely,β you reply, trying not to laugh into your cup.
He glances sideways at you. Itβs not warm, but itβs no longer distant either.
It becomes a rhythm. Something constant. A pulse through the chaos. Every meeting. Every snide comment passed between you. Every book you pretend to casually bring up, just to hear him talk.
Itβs not new. The crushβhis voice, the way he moves, the way his mind worksβyouβve carried all of that since you were fifteen. But now, itβs different. Sharper. Heβs no longer a distant figure behind a desk. Heβs someone real. Present. Willing to meet you halfway.
Youβre not just starry-eyed anymore. You care about himβhis silences, his scars, the exhaustion he hides under his sneers. You start noticing the quiet thingsβthe tension in his shoulders before he speaks, the way his fingers twitch when heβs trying not to show heβs anxious, the fact that he never forgets what youβve said, even in passing.
Every time he says your name, soft and precise like itβs part of a formula, something inside you twists. Because this time, it's not a crush.
It's love.
β
You just came home from a mission when you plopped down on the couch besides Tonks.
She is curled on the couch, hair dull and greyβnot from effort, but from mood. She stares at the ceiling, voice flat.
"I told him. Remus. I told him how I felt."
You sit up straighter. "Waitβwhat? You actually told him? When?"
"Last night. After the meeting. Just... blurted it out. Like a bloody idiot."
"And what did he say?"
Her laugh is dry and bitter. "Said I was too young. That it wouldnβt be fair. That I deserved someone who wasnβt... him."
You blink. "ButβTonks, are you joking? He watches you. Iβve seen it. He listens when you speak. He always lights up a bit when youβre aroundβ"
"Yeah," she cuts in, quietly. "I thought so too. But maybe I saw what I wanted to see. Or maybe heβs just scared of being happy."
Your heart twists. "Tonks... Iβm so sorry."
She shrugs, fighting back tears. "I donβt regret telling him. But I feel like I set myself on fire and he just stood there watching. But I am not going to give up even if that makes me an Idiot."
You take her hand. "You're not an idiot. You're brave. I wish I could be that brave."
She gives a weak smile. "You need to confess to your disaster man as well."
"Tonksβ"
"Nope. I mean it. Severus watches you the same way Remus watched meβexcept Snape is even worse at hiding it."
You shake your head. "He doesnβt feel that way. And even if he did, he wouldnβt say it."
"Then you say it," she says, fierce. "Be the one who jumps. Donβt wait like I did."
You stare at the fire.
Then nod.
The meeting that night is long. You barely hear a word of it. Your heart is pounding in your chest so loud youβre convinced someone will comment. You catch Severus glancing at you a few timesβshort, searching looks, like heβs noticed youβre not entirely present.
Tonks nudges your arm and murmurs, βStill on for after?β
You nod, throat dry. She squeezes your hand once under the table before drifting away to speak with Remus, who is lingering near the back of the room.
You watch them. Their heads are close together, voices soft. You canβt tell whatβs being said, but Tonks is smilingβhopeful and nervous all at once.
Then you spot Severus slipping toward the hallway, cloak already gathered in one hand.
You stand. Fast.
βSeverusβwait.β
He stops, slowly turning.
You inhale once, deep, and step toward him.
βI need to say something,β you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. βAnd I swear, Iβve been trying to talk myself out of it for weeks, but here we are.β
Severus stands there, watching you with that unreadable look. Your heart thuds hard enough youβre afraid he can hear it.
βI like you,β you say, quieter now. βI mean I like you. Iβve liked you for a while. Well actually I liked you since fifth year but then I thought I stopped but I think I knew I didn't the second I saw you walk into that Order meeting. And then we started talking andβMerlin, itβs not some passing thing.β
You force yourself to meet his eyes. βYouβre complicated and sharp and so much more than people ever see. And talking to you is the best part of my week, every time. So I thought maybeβif you wantedβmaybe we could go for a nice romantic dinner...?β
Silence stretches.
He doesnβt move.
Then, finally, he speaks.Β βYou shouldnβt want things like that from me.β
His voice is low, but not cruel. Just tired. Like heβs had this argument with himself already.
You swallow hard. βWhy not?β
βBecause Iβm not made for that,β he says. "I am not the man to go for candlelight...It wouldnβt suit me. It never has.β
He hesitates, eyes flicking to yours something you can't quite place flashing in them but only for a second.
He turns before you can say anything else, footsteps retreating down the corridor without a backward glance, his cloak trailing like smoke behind him.
And your heart folds in on itself as youβre left standing there in a very quiet, very final way.
Tonks and You barricaded yourselves into the apartment the whole weekend after that, armed with chocolate frogs and more bottles dragon brandy than the two of you could drink.
"Heβs a bloody idiot!" she says, plopping down beside you on the couch at some point after the third bottle.
"They both are."
You turn your head to look over at her grabbing the bottle and taking a swing before scrunching up your face at the burn.Β "Remus still pretending you donβt exist?"
"Like Iβm contagious."
You hand her the bottle letting out a sigh. "At least Remus kind of gave an actual reason."
Tonks musters you for a moment after taking a sip from the bottle herself. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed with brandy and frustration.
βTheyβre idiots,β she declares again, slamming the bottle down on the table. βGrade-A, Ministry-certified, emotionally-stunted idiots.β
You nod solemnly, sprawled sideways across the armrest. βAbsolute morons. Should be banned from having faces that make us feel things.β
βExactly!β she slurs. βYouβbrilliant, loyal, terrifying when angryβyou confess and he runs like a blasted dementorβs on his heels. And me? I practically proposed to Remus with my eyes, and he justββtoo young,β βnot safe,β blah blah, tragic werewolf poetry.β
You start laughing. It bubbles up out of you uncontrollably. Tonks joins in, snorting into a cushion.
Then her face goes serious. βWe need a plan.β
You blink. βWhat kind of plan?β
βA scheme. A plot. Operation: Emotionally Inept Men Realize Their Own Damn Feelings.β
You giggle. βThat acronym is awful.β
βIβm drunk. You fix it later,β she mumbles. βWe need to make them jealous. Or nervous. Or confused. Justβsomething.β
You snort. βLike what? Send each other flowers in front of them?β
Tonks gasps. βYES. And then we act super casual. Like, βOh, Remus, this bouquet? Just a little something from the hottest person I knowβnot you, obviously.ββ
You wheeze into your sleeve. βAnd Iβll just be like, βOh Severus, Tonks and I are trying this thing where we only date people who can actually say how they feel.ββ
βWeβll crush their fragile egos.β
βWeβll be legends.β
Tonks raises the bottle. βTo unhinged women and emotionally constipated men.β
You clink your glass to hers, grinning. βItβs our time to shine.βΒ
The both of you continue to drink until the alcohol takes it turn and you both fall sleep on the couch.
But life doesnβt bend to your drunk schemes and hopeful hearts.
The war escalates. Your missions grow bloodier. Darker. The laughter fades, and reality sharpens like a blade.
You and Tonks barely have time to breathe, let alone flirt. The Ministry's collapsing under the weight of fear and infiltration. Raids are more frequent. Casualties are no longer numbersβthey're names you recognize.
The Order meetings grow tenser. No more teasing from across the table. No time for exchanged glances or shared smirks. Just tactics. Intel. Survival.
You didn't speak with Severus again after he left you standing in that hallway. He kept glancing over at you during meetings but he never tried to speak with you. It felt like you pressed your heart into his hand and he let it fall, untouched.
You pretend it doesn't hurt. But it does. So you throw yourself into missions. You find dark corners and dangerous paths.
The air is thick with dust and disuse, the floorboards groaning under your boots as you move through the narrow hallway of an abandoned house on the edge of the Wiltshire countryside. The mission had come straight from Moodyβquiet, off the books, just you. A suspected Death Eater hideout, previously warded to hell, but recently showing signs of magical activity again.
You entered through a broken cellar door, wand raised, eyes scanning every shadow. Moody's briefing had been short:
check for signs of occupation, gather intel, and get out. If you could confirm who was using the place, even better.
The scent of burnt parchment and something foulerβblood, maybeβlingered in the air. You found remnants: a broken wand tip, a crumpled map of the Ministryβs upper levels, and a few strands of white-blond hair caught on a cracked mirror.
You were about to mark your findings and prepare to leave when you heard it.
Voices. Faint. Muffled. Two peopleβmen, you thinkβtalking in harsh whispers from a room at the end of the hall.
You edge closer, careful not to make a sound, wand held tightly at your side. The floorboards creak beneath you, but you move slowly, deliberately, step by cautious step, until you reach a slightly ajar door.
Inside, two cloaked figures stand near an old writing desk covered in parchment, open potion vials, and a magical map glowing faintly. One of them is holding a wand over the map, murmuring incantations. The other laughs under his breath and adjusts his hood.
Your heart pounds. Youβre close enough to make out part of their planβsomething about targeting a Ministry courier, something about tonight. You lean in, trying to get a better look, to see their faces, to hear more clearly.
Thenβ
CREEEAAK.
Your boot shifts ever so slightly on a warped plank.
The sound echoes like thunder in the tense silence.
Both men whip around toward the door, wands already raised.
βWHOβS THERE?!β one of them shouts.
The other spots you at the door, βAvada Kedavra!β
A flash of green light blasts through the narrow opening just as you dive backward, making it out of the way last second.
You scramble, raising your wand and firing back as you retreat, the doorway exploding in splinters behind you. The Death Eaters charge, spells slamming into the walls and floor. You fire a disarming spellβmiss. A stunning charmβconnects. One of them stumbles but recovers fast.
The corridor becomes a war zone. Shelves collapse. Dust blinds you. You roll over broken floorboards, casting Protego and ducking hexes.
You stagger into a corner and use the moment to hurl a curse that sends one Death Eater flying back into a crumbling dresser but the second one closes in, too fast, too brutal. He casts a slicing hex that tears through the wall inches from your face.Β
You twist to cast, wand rising, a spell burning on your tongueβ
But the red light surges faster.
It slams into your side like a battering ram.
White-hot pain detonates through you, sharp and immediate, tearing through muscle and bone in one vicious, blazing line.
You land hard on your back, your wand flies from your grasp with a clutter and rolls out of reach. Your body is seizing and ribs flaring with fresh agony. Your lungs refuse to expand. You open your mouthβbut no air, no sound. Just the thick, crushing pressure of pain locking you inside your own body.
Your vision blurs at the edges. Every heartbeat is a thunderclap behind your eyes.
You try to moveβcanβt. Try to breatheβfail.
And then footsteps. Closer. Fast.
Youβre exposed, defenseless, flat on splintered wood, blinking up at the ceiling as it twists and swims above you.
A sharp crack of Apparition splits the air.
A shadow cuts through the smokeβswift, dark, deliberate.
Boots crunch over shattered glass and splintered wood as a tall figure strides into the chaos. His face is hidden beneath the edge of a hood, but you know him.
Youβd know that presence anywhere.
Severus.
He moves without hesitation, stepping between you and the oncoming curses like a storm given form, his wand already raised. The air explodes with spellfireβgreen, blue, blood-redβand he counters each one with brutal efficiency. Every motion is sharp, practiced, lethal.
You can barely lift your head, but you watch himβhow he doesnβt falter, how he doesn't look away. A shield erupts from his wand, catching a blast before it can reach you. The recoil ripples through the room, shaking dust from the beams above.
Thenβwith a harsh word and a flick of his wristβhe sends one Death Eater crashing into the wall hard enough to splinter the plaster.
The second barely has time to scream before a nonverbal curse lifts him off his feet and slams him against a broken dresser. He crumples to the floor, motionless.
Only when the room has gone silent again does Severus lower his wand.
He turns toward you.
And pulls down his hood.
You try to speakβhis name, anythingβbut the pain anchors you in place.
βYou absolute moron,β he snaps at you, voice taut. Then heβs there lifting you up with such a gentleness and care that you are sure you are dreaming.Β
βDonβt even try to argue,β he mutters steadying his hold on you. You feel his hand under your back, the twist of Apparition.
Everything folds.
The house vanishes. The pain doesnβt.
The last thing you felt as you passed out is his heartbeat, loud and furious.
When you wake, youβre in a room at Grimmauld Place. The ceilingβs cracked. The sheets smell like dust.
Your chest aches. You blink slowly. Then you see him.
Sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed, coat discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up. Thereβs a faint streak of ash across his cheek.
He looks at you, jaw tight. βYouβre an idiot.β
Your voice comes out croaky. βYou have a terrible bedside manner.β
He stands, crossing to your side. Without a word, he begins applying a cooling salve to your ribs, his touch gentler than you expect.
βIf you die,β he mutters, βMoody will be buried in paperwork explaining why a promising Auror died on an off-the-books mission and be even worse than he already is.β
You smile weakly. βSo you came to save the parchment.β
He doesnβt answer.
But his hand lingers when he finishes wrapping your side. Just a moment. A pause heavy with everything unsaid.
Then he lets go.
"You should have went in took notes and left. Not go full on hero complex and investigate all on your own," he scolds, not bothering to hide the sharp edge in his tone.
You blink slowly, trying to gather your breath. βHow did you even find me?β
βI noticed you werenβt at the meeting.β His voice is clipped, his movements precise as he checks the bandages at your side. βI asked Tonks where youβd gone. She told me about the mission.β
You stare at him, still dazed. βSo... you left the meeting? Just to come find me?β
He straightens up but doesnβt meet your eyes. βThat particular location has been on my radar. It was used previously by known associates of Mulciber. It wasnβt a matter of coincidence.β
You study him. βThat doesnβt answer the question.β
His jaw tightens. βYou always were too eager to impress. Someone had to make sure you didnβt get yourself killed because of that recklessness.β
You raise an eyebrow, but before you can press further, he steps back. βYou should rest. Youβll need strength for the inevitable lecture from Moody.β
And just like that, he turns to leave, the tension in his shoulders betraying everything he couldnβt say.
"Wait," you croak, voice still hoarse but strong enough to stop him in his tracks.
He pauses at the door, head tilting slightly.
βI still feel the same,β you say, trying not to wince. βEven if you donβt like me. And I know that maybe I shouldnβt say this after you already clearly rejected me but itβs true.β
Severus turns back slowly. Thereβs a strange look on his faceβconfusion, maybe. Something softer than before.
βI didn't rejected you,β he says.
You blink. βWhat?β
He takes a few steps closer. βThat night, when you asked me. I didnβt reject you. I said you shouldnβt want that from me. I said I wasnβt the type to do candlelight dinners.β
You stare, heart hammering. βWhichβ¦ sounded a lot like a rejection?β
He moves a little closer now, arms foldedβnot in his usual defensive way, but like heβs holding himself still.
βI said Iβm not made for candlelight dinners because Iβm not,β he continues. βI meant I wouldnβt know what to do with that kind of romance. Not that I didnβt wantβ¦ you.β
You stare at him. βThen why did you just walk away?β
He scowls, and not at you. βI didn't...I told you the night before the meeting that I had to leave right after because I was summoned for another meeting and couldnβt stay to talk. I barely had time to get out and show up there without them getting suspicious.β
You feel your cheeks flush hot.
βI forgotβ¦β
Your brain feels like itβs short-circuiting.
βI thought you understood what I meant and left,β he says, voice quieter now. βBut you never brought it up again. And I assumed youβ¦simply didn't want it anymore. So I stayed away.β
Your mind is reeling, trying to make sense of everything heβs just said.
βI didnβt bring it up again because I thought you told me that you do not want to go on a date with me,β you say, incredulous. βI thought I embarrassed myself.β
βYou didnβt,β he says tightly. His voice is almost amused as he looks at you. βYou didnβt embarrass yourself. I was quite flattered.β
Your heart stumbles in your chest. You reach outβtentative, carefulβand take his hand. And for the first time, he lets his fingers curl around yours.
You look at him, heart thudding againβbut differently now. βSo... what now?β
Heβs quiet for a moment. Then he says, βPlease anything but candlelight dinners.β
You let out a breathless laugh. βYouβyou are infuriating.β
βIβm aware.β
βOkay so no candlelight got it.β You grin despite yourself.
βI do like you rather a lot and would love to spend more time with you if that's what you still want.β
Your smile softens. βYeah. Iβd like that.β
He looks at your intervened hands before gently lifting them and pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of yours. The two of you stay like that a little more in silence just enjoying the presence of each other.
And this time, when he turns to go, he pauses at the doorβ to glance back, eyes lingering just a second longer.
Youβre still sitting up in bed when the door bursts open without warning.
Tonks stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and breathless, hair a disheveled mix of pink and brown like she forgot to decide what mood to be in.
βOh thank Merlin,β she says, exhaling hard. βYouβre awake.β
She rushes forward and throws her arms around you before you can say anything. Itβs not gentle. Itβs not careful. Itβs Tonksβtight and warm and a little shaky.
βYou absolute idiot,β she mumbles into your shoulder. βI was two seconds from hexing Moody for sending you out alone after I heard Snape brought you here hurt and passed out.β
βIβm fine,β you croak, but you hug her back just as tight.
βYouβre not,β she says, pulling away just enough to glare at you. βYou scared the shit out of me. Again. We had a deal. No solo heroic missions.β
You give a weak laugh. βDidnβt feel very heroic, getting hexed like that.β
Her eyes scan your face, softening slightly. βHe got there in time, though that's all that matters.β
You nod, biting your lip.
βI knew he would.β She sits on the edge of the bed, legs bouncing. "The way he ran out the way he did after I told him where you had your mission. He just went quiet and ran. No questions. Justβgone.β
Your heart thuds at that.
βHe looked ready to tear the place apart,β Tonks adds, voice dropping slightly. βIβve never seen him like that.β
You sit in silence for a beat, the memory of his wand raised between you and those curses still vivid.
Then Tonks squints at you, eyes narrowing. βYou don't seem surprised by that and you're blushing. Why are you...Something happened, didnβt it!?β
You open your mouth. Close it.
βDonβt you dare lie to me.β
You sigh, looking at the blanket folded across your lap. βI stopped him before he left. After he patched me up.β
Tonks leans in, rapt. βAnd?β
βI told him I still felt the same. About him. Even after everything.β
Her eyes widen. βYou didnβt.β
βI did. He was halfway out the door and I just blurted it out.β
She grabs your hands. βWhat did he say?β
βHe turned around. Looked at me like I was the one whoβd been Confunded. Then saidβhe never rejected me.β
Tonks freezes. βWhat?!β
βI said the same thing!β
You start to laugh, almost delirious from it. βI reminded him of what he told meβthe bit about how I shouldn't want that from him, and how he doesnβt do candlelight dinnersβ¦β
βAnd?β
βHe said he only meant heβs not that kind of man. Not the kind of man who knows how do that kind of romance. That he didnβt say no. He thought I changed my mind when I didnβt bring it up again.β
Tonks lets out a sound thatβs part shriek, part groan, and shoves her hands into her hair. βI knew he liked you! The way he looked at you during meetings? The way he listened when only you spoke up? That wasnβt indifference. That was Severus Snape trying not to combust on the spot.β
You shake your head, smiling. βHe said he likes me a lot and would love to spend time with me.β
Tonks practically vibrates in place. βIt means youβre dating Snape! Youβre dating Severus Snape and Iβm going to explode.β
βYou are not telling anyone.β
βI am absolutely telling Remus.β
You laugh, then wince at the ache in your ribs.
Tonks sobers just a little, reaching for your hand again. βHe really came for you. Without hesitation. You know that, right?β
You nod, eyes burning a little. βI know.β
βAnd Iβm glad. Even if he is the most emotionally damaged man in Britain.β
You squeeze her fingers. βTakes one to fall for one, apparently.β
She lets out a long sigh, collapsing backward onto the bed. βI swear, if Remus doesnβt get his head out of his arse soon too, Iβm going to challenge him to a duel and make him lose on purpose.β
You snort. βHeβd probably thank you for it.β
Tonks looks at the ceiling, hair bleeding pink again. βYou and me. Falling for the most exhausting men alive.β
βAt least theyβre consistent.β
She smiles sideways at you. βWeβre going to be fine, you know.β
βYeah?β
βYeah. Weβve got each other. And you finally got your grumpy potions bat and I will eventually get piece of that sad werewolf.β
You grin. βCheers to that.β
Tonks reaches for a half-melted chocolate frog on the bedside table and raises it like a toast. βTo the worst taste in men and the best possible endings.β
You clink your teacup to it. βHereβs hoping.β
And the moment settles between youβquiet, loyal, real. Just two girls in a war, holding each other up and daring to hope for something good.
β
Remus sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, legs folded beneath him in one of the battered armchairs, a book resting in his lap. The fire crackled lazily, casting warm shadows against the cracked wallpaper and dust-choked bookshelves. He was half-reading, half-listening to the muffled sounds of Molly in the kitchen and the low groan of the old house settling.
The quiet was broken by the sound of footstepsβmeasured, unhurried, precise.
Remus glanced up, ready to offer the same cautious nod they always exchanged.
But something stopped him.
Severus, of all people, looked... different.
Not unrecognizable. Not exactly relaxed. But there was a distinct shift in himβlike he was carrying less weight across his shoulders than usual. His usual scowl was subdued. His mouth not pressed into it's habitual sneer.
There was a stillness about him that wasnβt edged with bitterness for once.
He looked content.
Remus blinked.
Severus, of course, noticed.
He paused at the threshold of the room, eyes narrowing faintly. βWhat?β he said flatly.
Remus tilted his head. βNothing.β
βYouβre staring.β
βYou looked... less miserable than usual,β Remus said mildly. βI was trying to figure out what caused it.β
Severus walked to the edge of the fireplace and leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms folding over his chest.
βI suppose I could ask the same of you on the days your hair isn't a mess.β
A pause stretched between them. Crackling wood. Pages shifting.
Then, without looking up, Remus spoke again. βI heard what happened. With the mission. It's because of your fast reaction that we do not have to bury (Y/N)β
Severusβs expression didnβt shift, but something behind his eyes flickered.
βTonks told me something interesting,β Remus continued, βthat youβve been spending quite a bit of time with (Y/N).β
Severusβs lip twitched faintly. βYouβve been gossiping, Lupin?β
βShe likes to tell me. Itβs hard not to listen when she talks.β
"Apparently.β
Remus looked at him fully now. βYou like her.β
Severus didnβt flinch. βYes and she likes me.β
There was a long pause as Remus processed that. "So...Have you figured out what you are going to do about it?"
"There is no figuring out," Severus added dryly, βWe are dating.β
Remus blinked again, still stunned. βBut...things as they areβthis war, the risksβand sheβs youngerββ
Severus turned his head, very slowly, and fixed him with a look so flat and unimpressed that Remus actually winced.
βI see,β Remus muttered. βNone of my business.β
βNo,β Severus said. βItβs not.β
Still, he didnβt look away. His voice lowered, tone quieter, more serious. βBut Iβll say this once.β
Remus looked up.
βIt would be idiotic to reject someone who cares for me like that especially in times like these,β Severus said evenly. βSomeone who sees every part of me and still bothers. Who stillΒ wantsΒ to bother. That doesnβt happen twice.β
Remus stared at him, unmoving.
Severus went on, voice calm but sure. βShe knows what she wants. And sheβs more than capable of choosing for herself. Who am I to push that away, for the sake of appearances or pride?β
Remusβs jaw clenched faintly.
Severus didnβt smile. But there was a finality in his gaze, a grounded certainty.
βIβm not a fool,β he said. βI may be many things. But I know what matters when itβs standing in front of me. And I will not waste the little time I might have left, wondering on what it would have been like if I can spend it with her and know.β
With that, he pushed off the wall and turned to leave, robes brushing the doorframe as he disappeared into the hallway.
Remus sat still for a long time, the fire crackling behind him.
Dinner at Grimmauld Place that evening is louder than usual.
Molly has outdone herself againβroast lamb, buttered veggies, fresh rolls, and enough potatoes to bury a man alive. Sheβs fluttering around you with the urgency of someone whoβs decided your brush with death was a personal insult to her kitchen.
βAnother helping, dear?β she says for the third time in as many minutes, already scooping more onto your plate before you can answer.
βIβreally, Iβm goodββ
βYou need to rebuild your strength,β Molly insists, ignoring your protests entirely.
Tonks, seated across from you, is no help at all. Sheβs already giggling behind her pumpkin juice, watching the scene like it's the best show sheβs seen in weeks.
βSheβs going to roll you back to the flat at this rate,β Tonks teases. βMerlin forbid you miss a meal. Youβd have to survive onβ¦ what do you even keep in our pantry? Seven varieties of tea and a questionable jar of pickled something?β
βI like variety,β you grumble, nudging your mashed potatoes half-heartedly.
Severus sits beside you, unusually quiet but very much present. He hasnβt spoken since the meal began, just calmly observing the chaos of the kitchen, his posture composed, his expression unreadable.
Until your arm tenses.
Itβs just a small motionβlifting your fork with your still-sore sideβbut the moment you reach too high, pain flashes across your face and you wince, hand faltering.
The moment is so small, so quiet, it mightβve gone unnoticed.
But before anyone else can reactβbefore even you fully register itβSeverus sets down his own fork, reaches calmly across, and takes yours from your fingers.
No words.
Just steady hands, practiced grace, and a flick of his wrist as he spears a piece of roast lamb and holds the fork out to you.
The entire table freezes.
Molly stops mid-pour with the gravy boat. Arthurβs eyebrows climb his forehead. Remus pauses with a roll halfway to his mouth, blinking like someone just flipped the room upside down. Sirius chokes on his Mulbery Wine so violently that Molly has to slap his back.
Tonks, meanwhile, looks like someone just handed her the keys to Honeydukes. Her grin is feral, gleeful, and practically glowing. Her eyes flick between you and Severus like sheβs already scripting the ballad sheβs going to write about this moment.
You donβt even notice.
You just beam, completely unbothered by the stunned silence, and lean forward to take the offered bite without hesitation.
βMmm,β you hum. βThank you.β
Severus doesnβt smile, but thereβs something thereβa twitch of his mouth, the softest exhale through his nose. His hand lowers back to your plate, calm and precise as ever, already gathering another bite like this is simply the most logical way to deal with a sore arm and not the social equivalent of dropping a bomb in the center of the Order dinner.
You take another bite from Severusβs hand, still grinning, completely unaware of how stunned the rest of the table isβuntil Sirius opens his mouth.
βAlright,β he says loudly, setting down his fork with an exaggerated clatter. βWhat the bloody hell is that all about?β
Tonks immediately glares at him, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. βDonβt start.β
Even Remus, usually the peacekeeper, glances at Sirius with a hint of disapproval. βNot the time, Sirius.β
But of course, Sirius barrels forward like a broom with no brakes.
βI mean, come on,β he says, gesturing broadly toward you and Severus. βSnivellus hand-feeding (Y/N) at the dinner table? This is weird, right? This is weird for everyone?β
Tonks opens her mouth, clearly about to explode.
But Severus speaks first.
Calm. Bored. Unbothered.
βIβm feeding my woman because she is in pain,β he says. βNot that you understand. You've never tended to anything that didn't stroke your ego.β
Flat. Dry. Like itβs the most obvious thing in the world.
Silence.
Absolute, floor-dropping silence.
You, still mid-bite, blink in surprise. Your heart skips an entirely unsafe number of beats.
Molly stares, eyes wide. Thenβslowlyβa small, knowing smile pulls at her mouth. She glances at Arthur, who lifts his eyebrows but smiles back with an approving nod.
Tonks actually squeaks.
Itβs small, barely a sound, but her whole face lights up and her hands slap over her mouth like sheβs trying not to scream into them.
Sirius stares.
Itβs the kind of stare that says heβs been hit with a Stunning Spell mid-chew. His mouth is open. But no sound comes out. Heβs blinking at Severus like heβs trying to read an instruction manual in another language.
You nudge Severus gently with your elbow, your voice low. βThat wasβ¦not subtle.β
βI donβt do subtle,β he says without looking at you.
You laugh under your breath and pick up your cup with your good arm, hiding your smile behind it.
Severus, meanwhile, continues eating his own dinner like he didnβt just casually claim you in front of half the Order.
Remus says nothingβbut heβs watching.
You notice the way his eyes shift toward Tonk as she glows and fidgets and looks like she might combust with happiness. Thereβs something in his expressionβpain, maybe. Or longing. Regret, even.
βWell,β Tonks says, trying and failing to sound casual, βIβd say that clears up a few things.β
Dinner resumesβsort of.
The food disappears from plates, the conversations return in hushed tones and sideways glances, but something has shifted. The air feels lighter. Not so sharp. And even if half the table is pretending they didnβt just witness that moment, the other half is definitely planning to tell someone else about it later.
And you?
You just let Severus brush his fingers lightly against yours beneath the table. Quiet. Steady. Real.
The house settles into quiet as the dishes are cleared, conversations fade, and the others retreat upstairs or into separate corners of Grimmauld Place. You manage to make it down the corridor on your own, stiff but mobile, with Tonks promising
βI will be back later, a certain emotionally terrified werewolf wants to talk to me urgently about something apparently.β
You find Severus upstairs, half-hidden in the shadowed end of the corridor by the old study door, arms crossed like heβs trying not to pace. He looks up when you approach, expression unreadable but his eyes soften when you approach him.
You donβt say anything at first.
You just step into his spaceβcloser than you wouldβve dared even days ago.
He doesnβt move away.
βAre you in pain?β
βA little,β you admit. βBut itβs manageable.β
He nods once. βYou should still be resting.β
You glance up at him, suddenly very aware of everything still unsaid. Of how different things feel now. You fiddle with the sleeve of your jumper.
βYou know," you speak softly βFor someone who claims that they are not the type for candlelight dinners you do know how to make a moment romantic.β
That earns you the faintest huff. Not quite a laugh. But close. βShould I have waited and made a formal announcement?β
You fold your arms, the ache in your side a dull throb. βSirius nearly chocked and looked like he aged five years on the spot.β
A flicker of smug satisfaction crosses his face. βThat part I did enjoy.β
That makes you huff a laugh before you can stop yourself. You stare at him for a moment, heart doing something uneven in your chest.Β
βYou meant it?β you ask finally.
He lifts a brow. βYou think I do things like that to amuse myself?β
A soft breath leaves youβnot quite a laugh, but something close. βYou know, you caused a small riot?β
βIβm aware.β His expression is unreadable again as he looks at you.
You hesitate. Then: βYou called me your woman.β
βWas I wrong?β He meets your eyes.Β
You open your mouth. Close it.
Thereβs silence for a moment, but it isnβt awkward. Itβs fullβsettled. Something has shifted and neither of you is pretending otherwise.
βI didnβt plan to say it,β he admits, voice quiet. βIt came out.β
You stare at him. βDo you regret it?β
He shakes his head once. βNo.β
You search his face. Thereβs tension there, yes, but also clarity. Heβs not performing. Heβs not trying to convince you. Heβs just telling you the truth.
βYou know,β You step closer. βI saw Remus look at Tonks after you said it.β
Severus tilts his head slightly. βAnd?β
βAnd it made me thinkβ¦ maybe what you said, did more than just surprise a room full of people.β
You smileβshy, warm, and completely real.
And then you lean in, slowly, your hand finding his cheek.
He doesnβt moveβnot at first. Just watches you like heβs still making sure this is real. Like heβs memorizing every second of it.
But when your lips meet his, itβs not rushed or hesitant. Itβs warm and sure, a little uneven at firstβbecause itβs new, and it means something. His hand rises to your waist, not possessive, just there. Grounding you.
He kisses you like itβs something he never expected to haveβbut wonβt let himself fear anymore. Careful, but wanting. His fingers slide along your jaw like heβs afraid youβll vanish if he lets go too soon.
When you pull back, heβs still looking at you like youβre the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
βCome on,β you whisper. βWe should go back before Tonks tries to sneaks up here and catches us.β
βSheβs already watching from the stairs,β Severus murmurs dryly.
You spin. βWhat?!β
But thereβs no one there. He smirks.
You groan. βYouβre the worst.β
βI know,β he says, letting his hand trail to your lower back and pulling you against him. βAnd yet, here you are.β
He slowly leans down and presses another kiss to your lips.
Neither of you think to stop but when you do pull back, just a little, your forehead rests against his.
The air between you stays chargedβgentle, electric.
You whisper, βI guess this is much better than a candlelight dinner.β
He exhales a quiet laugh against your cheek. βThis is much more...enjoyable.β
You smile, lips brushing his againβjust because you can now.
By the time you and Severus return to the main sitting room, the fireβs been rekindled and most of the Order has either gone to bed or wandered off. But the few who remainβwell, they paint quite the picture.
Tonks is curled up on the couch, tucked against Remusβs side. His arm is slung around her shoulders like it belongs there, and her head rests just beneath his jaw, her pink hair brushing his collar while her legs are draped over his lap.
Sheβs beaming. Glowing, really.
Remus looks half-relaxed, half like heβs still recovering from letting himself finally give in.
And then thereβs Sirius.
Sulking.
Heβs folded into one of the old armchairs like it personally betrayed him, arms crossed so tightly across his chest itβs a miracle heβs still breathing. Heβs scowling across the roomβspecifically at Remus and Tonksβwith the fury of someone who just found out his favorite pub closed down for good.
The moment you and Severus step into view, Siriusβs eyes dart toward you both, his expression contorting further into something between deeply betrayed and vaguely nauseous.
You donβt miss the way Tonks catches your eye across the room and grins like a smug cat. You grin right back.
She mouths, he is mine now.
You mouth back, I can see.
You turn to look at Severus over your shoulder. He gently places his hand on your lower back and presses a quick kiss to your lips before guiding you over to the free armchair. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap if it was the most normal thing to do.
Sirius groans, dragging a hand down his face. βOh, this is unbearable.β
No one acknowledges him.
He huffs louder, throwing his arms up. βFirst, itβs Snape feeding her like itβs some tragic romance novel, now Remus is cuddled up like a bloody pillowβwhat is this? The common room of poor decisions?β
Remus raises an eyebrow but doesnβt even blink. Tonks snuggles in closer, visibly delighted.
Sirius keeps going, gesturing wildly. βIt was bad enough having to accepting those twoββ he points at you and Severus, ββwill be snogging in doorways and making heart eyes over dinnerββ
βWe are notβ!β you start, but Tonks bursts out laughing.
ββand now this?β Sirius growls. βNow I have to watch my best mate fall for my pink-haired menace of a cousin who brews exploding tea and crashes into tables on the regular?β
Without a beat. No cue. No hesitation.
Everyone in the roomβTonks, Remus, you, and even Severus, flatlyβsays at once:
βShut up, Sirius.β
Sirius blinks like heβs been smacked with a rolled-up Prophet.
The fire crackles.
Tonks lifts her mug in a mock toast. βTo love, chaos, and Sirius suffering.β
Remus looks smug and entirely too comfortable where he is.
Sirius scowls deeper, muttering something about needing stronger firewhisky and better friends.
You rest your head on Severus's shoulder, who doesnβt say anything, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you closer.
And for the first time in what feels like months, the roomβdespite the war, despite the madnessβfeels full of something warmer than tension.
It feels like peace.
β
Months later, the war rages on.
The sky seems permanently gray these days. Grimmauld Place is colder. The halls quieter. People speak in hushed tones nowβnot just from caution, but fatigue.
But not everything is bleak.
Because even in the cracks of this crumbling world, youβve found moments that feelβ¦safe.
Your relationship with Severus is unlike anything you imagined.
Itβs quieter than you thought it would beβnot loud declarations but small things. Constant things.
He always makes sure you have tea after a mission, mixed with healing potions, even if itβs more bitter he insists itβs βmedicinal.β You bring him books he pretends not to need and lay with your head in his lap in silence while he reads, just being near each other.
He lets you lean against him after long meetings, his arm a constant, grounding weight around your shoulders. He strokes your hair gently until you fall asleep next to him.
You argue, of course. He can be sharp, cold, too used to pushing people away when they get too close. But he always comes back. Always shows up in the morning, coffee in hand, like itβs his way of saying heβs still here.
You love him for it.
And even though he rarely says the words, you never doubt them. Because when youβre bleeding, heβs there before the blood dries. Because when youβre gone too long, he paces the halls and snaps at everyone until youβre in his arms again. Because when everything seems to fall apart around him, you are the only place he truly letβs himself fall apart.
Because his love is not loud.
Itβs constant.
That afternoon, you and Tonks find yourselves at your flat for onceβno assignments, no alarms. Just a rare moment of stillness, wrapped in mismatched blankets and oversized sweaters, sipping tea.
Tonks stretches across the couch like she owns it, which she technically half does. Her hair is soft today, a dusky pink that fades toward her shoulders.
In the kitchen Remus is quietly preparing food while Severus is filling up the cabinets with actual food.
You and Tonks watch it unfold from your positions.
She grins over her mug. βRemus made me tea this morning. Loose leaves. Honey. He even brought it to bed.β
You raise your brows. βThatβs scandalously domestic.β
βI know,β she sighs dramatically rubbing her swollen bump. βHeβs ruined me. Iβll never settle for anyone who uses teabags again.β
You chuckle, swirling your own mug. βSeverus made me take a Pepper-Up Potion after I sneezed once. Called me βrecklessβ for standing too near a draft. He wouldnβt stop glaring at me until I had drunken itβ
Tonks bursts out laughing. βThat man shows love like a hostile letter.β
You smirk. βHe also charmed the door to alert him if I leave without my wand. Donβt tell him, but I think itβs sweet.β
She raises her mug in salute. βThatβs basically marriage.β
You clink mugs, leaning into each other with soft, tired laughter.
Thereβs a silence afterwardβcomfortable, layered with memory.
You stare at the two men in your kitchen. βDo you remember what we were like this time last year?β
She groans. βPathetic.β
βWe used to get drunk and cry about how theyβd never notice us.β
Tonks puts her hand to her heart. βAnd now mine makes me soup when I have cramps.β
You grin. βMine lectures me about sleep and then lets me drool on his shoulder.β
She eyes you sideways. βHe told Sirius to shut up the other day just because you sighed.β
βHe did not.β
βHe did. Heβs obsessed with you.β
Your cheeks heat, but you try to play it cool. βDonβt say things like that.β
βWhy not? Itβs true. He loves you.β
You go quiet. Not because you doubt itβbut because it still feels fragile sometimes, like something youβre afraid to jinx.
But then you think of the kisses and touches you had shared, how he is holding your hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
You smile.
βYeah,β you say softly. βHe does.β
Tonks leans her head on your shoulder. βWe really pulled it off, didnβt we?β
You grin. βWe made emotionally repressed men fall in love with us. Thatβs basically winning the war.β
You sit like that for a long timeβwarm tea, shared silence, the world outside be damned.
While the two men you loved silently moved around the kitchen like it was their own.
I Lowkey want an x fem!reader where she seems to be very close with the males often like a romantic gestures only for her to end up being a lesbian and collecting a female harem
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I had this idea for a while idk if I should write or not but yea whatever AHEM
We know the whole reborn into a different world trope right? I like these tropes and I also like when the main character/Reader is like super chaotic and now please hear me out
Imagine being a 12 years old who is an absolute menace literally everyone hates/annoyed by you, the teachers are afraid of you, your parents are done with you and just gave up and let you do what you want and you do just that
Whatever you want... it's not as satisfying you thought it would be. the only person you actually get along with is like your older siblings who introduced you to a show/game/book etc they like while you don't understand why they are so obsessed with it, you let them ramble about it hell you pay attention when they spill the word "this is a very important part"
And while coming back from school thinking about what's your mom is making for dinner you get hit by a truck...YAY
Instead of dying you get reborn into a different world
Not any world you know of
It's your siblings obsession
Now you don't want to be involved in the plot at all because β¨traumaβ¨. But you end up getting dragged anyway
And your making it EVERYONES problem bc ofc it's your specialty, and also your bored as hell
Could you write Two Time x Surge the Tenrec? I know it's an out there crossover ship but ive been obsessed with them π
THAT is one crazy ship holy cow
Two time is already insane with the spawn and you add surge to the mix??? Holy that's BRILLIANT
HOW DID YOU EVEN COME UP WITH THIS SHIP???
Bro I'm jumping in a rabbit hole
I'll see if I can write something about it I still haven't grasped surge character BUT I PROMISE ONCE I DO I'LL BE WRITING LIKE I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME
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me when i get asked why i suddenly dislike a character (i canβt tell them itβs because i read a fanfic where said character made y/nβs life miserable and now i have personal beef with them)