#pro+snape

You linked your arm with his as you both wandered into The Three Broomsticks, seeking refuge from the chill autumn wind. His black cloak billowed dramatically behind him, as it usually does, before finally resting along his figure once he was out of the cool breeze. Madam Rosmerta acknowledged you both with her usual warm smile. “Ah, Professor Snape! And your lovely wife as well. Welcome back!” she greeted you as she wiped down the bar. “The usual table by the fire?”

Your steps faltered. Wife? You never told her that you were married before. Severus stiffened beside you, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. You glanced up at him, expecting a sharp correction like he would carry out to his students, but he merely nodded curtly. “Yes, that will do.”

Rosmerta hurried off, oblivious, while you slid into your seat at the table across from the brooding professor. As you admired the warmth of the fire, you couldn’t help but notice Severus’s expression. His brows were furrowed, his dark eyes distant in thought. 

“Wife?” you teased softly after the inn keeper had delivered you both a drink, nudging his knee under the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t correct her.”

He took a slow sip of his firewhiskey. “It seemed unnecessary. The woman prattles enough without encouragement.”

But there was something in his voice, a warmth beneath the drawl, that made your heart skip a few beats. You studied him, the way the firelight softened the sharp lines of his face, highlighting the stray silver strands in his black hair. “It didn’t bother you?”

He set his glass down with an audible clink. “Should it have?” he asked slowly, his gaze meeting yours. “We’ve been together long enough that assumptions are… inevitable.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you replied, finally taking a sip of your own drink. 

—

Severus barely closed the door of chambers before his lips were on yours, his kiss hungry and fierce. His hands pulled you closer, pressing you against him as he mapped the curve of your waist, the lines of your shoulders. In his mind, though, he thought about what it would be like to be married to you. To wake up to you each morning in his bed, to have your laughter echoing through these cold stone walls, a ring shining on your finger as a declaration of his devotion. The thought made him deepen the kiss, a low groan escaping him.

You smiled against his lips, your own hands reaching up to undo the ungodly amount of buttons he had along his robes. “You’re imagining it, aren’t you?” you asked, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. “Tell me, my love, what would it be like if we were married?”

He exhaled sharply, his dark eyes meeting your own as he busied himself with the fastenings of your own robes. “You’d be insufferable,” he said, but his tone was fond and tender. “You’d fill my shelves with unnecessary knick-knacks, beg that I leave my papers to come read with you only to wind up talking about my day instead, and overall, you’d be like an annoying bug that wouldn’t leave my office even if the door was left open.” 

You laughed softly as he slid your robes off of you. “You’d love every second of it, though.”

He didn’t deny it, instead, he finished undoing the rest of the buttons of his own robes, letting them meet with yours on the stone below. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring your taste, savoring the way your body arched into his. 

You guided him back, pressing him down onto the satin sheets of his bed, and he let you. He let your hands slide down his body and settle on his waist. He let you crawl your way over top of him and straddle his hips. He let you tease him by rubbing the fat head of his cock against your clit. And finally, he let you toy with his chest as you sunk down onto him, taking him inch by inch into your wet heat. His hands gripped your hips, gently guiding you as you rode him. 

“You’d make such a good husband,” you gasped out, nails clawing for purchase against his skin as he buried himself to the hilt. 

He groaned, low and deep in his throat, as his cock throbbed deep inside you. His own nails dug into the flesh of your hips, leaving small crescent marks in their wake. 

You teased him by sliding up, stilling when it was just his tip left inside you, before circling your hips down with a breathy moan. “Such a good husband,” you repeated, continuing your teasing. “Letting me have you like this, letting me take care of you like a good little wife.”

A breathless whimper escaped his lips as his hips bucked up to meet your own, hands guiding you to go faster. A loud moan slipped past your lips as he angled himself to go deeper, to press against the bundle of nerves that rested inside you with each desperate thrust. “That’s it,” he cooed, fucking up into you with a precision that left you breathless. “My beautiful wife, taking my cock like you were made for it.”

You swore your heart stopped when he finally called you his wife, heat gathering quickly in your core. You leaned down, bringing him into a sloppy kiss, his tongue clashing with your own. The sounds of your wetness filled the room with each thrust, only adding more fuel to the fire in your belly. “Severus,” you gasped against his lips, hands tangling into his hair and gripping desperately at his shoulder. 

“Yes, wife?” he hummed, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke, as if he knew the effect that one word had on you. Turns out, he did, for in the next moment he guided your hips as you came around him with a cry of his name. “That’s it, good girl,” he coaxed, gently guiding you through your orgasm as he picked up the pace, now chasing his own high as his thrusts grew sloppy. “You’re going to be a good little wife and let me fill you, yes?” he asked, titling your head up to meet his gaze, his aching cock throbbing against your pulsating walls.

You nodded, too blissed out to respond, but that was all he needed. He spilled into you, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go, a strained whine escaping from his lips. For a moment, you both stayed like that, joined together and breathless, basking in the afterglow. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your hips, before he pulled you up for another kiss, slow, sensual, but just as passionate. 

“You did so good,” he praised, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Gently, he slipped out of you, maneuvering you to rest beside him on the sheets. As if on instinct, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your chest. Your fingers ran through his hair, which was now tangled as well as greasy, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“You treat me so well, my dear, my sweet husband” you hummed contentedly, smiling down at him as you pulled him in closer. Severus sighed, relaxing into you and your touch. Perhaps the idea of marriage would be coming sooner than he had thought, because for once in his life, he finally felt cared for, loved, and, dare he say it, happy.

A flash of gold appeared near the Gryffindor goalposts, and without hesitation, Y/N shot forward, her broom slicing through the air. Snape leaned forward instinctively, heart pounding despite himself.

“Come on, Black,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the fabric of his robes as she closed in on the Snitch.

The Gryffindor Seeker, a wiry seventh-year, was just a few feet behind her, pushing his broom to its limit. But Y/N was faster. Snape had seen her fly countless times, had even watched her practice in secret when she thought no one was looking. 

He knew her style. She didn’t lunge blindly for the Snitch. She was patient, calculated. 

And then, just when it seemed like the Gryffindor Seeker might overtake her, she swerved at the last second, forcing him to adjust. That split-second hesitation was all she needed.

With a sharp dive, she stretched out her gloved hand, her fingers closing around the Snitch.

The stadium erupted into noise, but Snape barely heard any of it. His eyes were locked on Y/N as she straightened up, wind whipping through her hair, her triumphant smirk unmistakable even from a distance. She held the Snitch high as the Slytherin stands exploded in cheers.

Across the pitch, Sirius Black groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Bloody hell, Y/N! You’re supposed to be a Gryffindor at heart!” he yelled, though there was a grudging sort of pride in his voice.

Y/N turned her broom sharply toward the Gryffindor stands and, without missing a beat, flipped her older brother off.

Severus let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head. 

That was Y/N Black. She was unapologetic, sharp-tongued, and effortlessly brilliant. 

He found himself smirking as she landed, her teammates swarming her in celebration.

Part of him wanted to go down there, to congratulate her before the rest of Slytherin stole her attention. But instead, he simply watched from his spot in the stands, arms crossed, as she basked in her victory. She didn’t need his words to know he was proud. She would just know.

As Y/N landed, her teammates swarmed her, shouting, clapping her on the back, and ruffling her hair. She barely acknowledged them, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd instead.

Then, without a word, she pushed past them.

“Oi, where’s she going?” one of the Chasers muttered.

“She’s probably off to rub it in her brother’s face,” another laughed.

But they were wrong. 

Y/N wasn’t heading for Sirius. She wasn’t even acknowledging the rest of Slytherin’s celebration.

She was walking straight toward the stands, straight toward him.

Severus Snape sat frozen for a moment, his arms still crossed, before hurriedly schooling his expression back into indifference. His heartbeat, however, betrayed him.

Y/N reached him, standing just in front of where he sat, her broom still clutched in one hand, the Snitch resting in the other. She tilted her head at him, her smirk sharp and teasing.

“You gonna congratulate me, or are you too busy sulking about whatever it is that you sulk about?” she taunted, breathless from the match.

Snape rolled his eyes. “As if I care about Quidditch.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, please. I saw you watching me.” 

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You always do.”

Severus’s grip on his robes tightened, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You fly like an idiot. One wrong move, and you could’ve broken your neck.”

“Ah, so you were worried,” she teased, grinning.

“Hardly,” he muttered, but there was no venom behind it.

Y/N studied him for a moment before extending her hand, the one holding the Snitch. His brow furrowed in confusion as she placed it in his palm.

“A souvenir,” she said, shrugging. “For sitting through an entire match just for me.”

Severus stared at the Snitch in his hand, then back at her. His fingers curled around the cool metal, and for once, he didn’t have a sharp remark ready.

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Come on, Snape. Walk with me before the team kidnaps me for some over-the-top victory party.”

And just like that, she turned, expecting him to follow.

With a sigh, one that was far too fond for his liking, Severus tucked the Snitch into his pocket and stood, trailing after her.

As they walked away from the roaring Slytherin crowd, Severus fell into step beside her, hands shoved into his robes. The Snitch sat in his pocket, its tiny wings twitching now and then, but he ignored it.

Y/N strode forward with that effortless confidence of hers, broom over one shoulder, head held high like she owned the castle. And in some ways, she did. 

She was a Black, a Slytherin, a bloody brilliant Seeker. Everyone either admired her, feared her, or wanted to be her.

And yet, here she was. Choosing to spend her post-victory moment with him.

They reached a quieter corridor, the distant cheers fading behind them. Y/N finally exhaled, tilting her head back against the cool stone wall. “Merlin, I thought that match would never end.”

“You made quick work of it,” Severus muttered, leaning beside her. “Wasn’t even a challenge, was it?”

She smirked, eyes glinting. “Not even close.” Then, nudging him with her elbow, she added, “You enjoyed it, admit it.”

He scoffed. “I tolerated it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but let it slide. Instead, she turned to him fully, studying him with an unreadable expression.

“You know,” she mused, “you’re the only one I actually wanted to talk to after that match.”

Severus swallowed, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you don’t treat me like I’m some bloody trophy,” she said simply. 

“Everyone else is off celebrating me—but you just… I don’t know.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “You see me. Not just the captain, or the Seeker, or ‘Sirius Black’s little sister.’ Just me.”

Severus felt his throat go dry. He looked away, unsure what to say to that.

Y/N didn’t push him for an answer. Instead, she grinned, leaning closer. “So, since you’re such a dedicated fan now, you coming to my next match?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I must.”

She laughed. It was bright, unapologetic, and it was the kind of laugh that made even his cold, guarded heart warm just a little. 

“You must.”

Y/N pushed open the door to an empty classroom, stepping inside like she owned the place. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the stone walls, the only sound the faint echo of the ongoing celebration down in the dungeons.

Severus followed, closing the door behind them. “Skipping the victory party entirely, then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N tossed her broom onto an abandoned desk and hopped up onto another, swinging her legs. 

“Please. If I stay any longer, they’ll shove Firewhisky down my throat and make me listen to Mulciber’s tragic attempts at flirting.” She smirked. “I’d rather be here.”

Severus leaned against the opposite desk, arms crossed. “With me?”

“With you.” Her voice was softer now, less teasing.

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he looked down, pulling the Snitch from his pocket and watching it twitch in his palm.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to it. “Like it?”

Severus huffed. “You forced it on me.”

She tilted her head. “But you haven’t given it back.”

He hesitated, fingers tightening around the Snitch. The truth was, he liked having it. A reminder that, out of everyone in that bloody Quidditch pitch, she had chosen him to share her moment with.

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased with his silence. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Rolling his eyes, Severus flicked his wand at the candles, dimming them slightly. The atmosphere shifted into a quieter and more intimate setting. The usual playful edge between them softened, replaced with something unspoken but heavy in the air.

She watched him carefully, then sighed, leaning back on her hands. 

“You know, for someone who ‘doesn’t care about Quidditch,’ you sure looked invested today.”

Severus exhaled sharply. 

“I wasn’t invested—”

“You were leaning forward in the stands.”

“I was watching.”

“You muttered something under your breath when I went for the Snitch.”

“That doesn’t—”

“You were worried about me.” Her voice was light, teasing, but there was something searching in her gaze.

Severus clenched his jaw. “…You could have broken your neck.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered just slightly. “But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

She studied him for a long moment, then hopped down from the desk, stepping closer. 

“Sev.” Her voice was softer now, almost careful. “You do care.”

He swallowed hard. It was infuriating, the way she could see right through him.

“…You’re so annoying,” he muttered.

She grinned. “And you love it.”

Severus refused to dignify that with a response, but he didn’t move away when she plucked the Snitch from his hand, rolling it between her fingers before throwing it back at him. Severus put it back in his pocket.

Silence settled between them, warm and heavy.

After a moment, Y/N smirked. “So, since we’re skipping the party, what do you suggest we do?”

Severus glanced at her, at the flickering candlelight dancing in her eyes.

“…Stay here,” he said finally. “Talk. Until they give up looking for you.”

Y/N hummed in approval. “Sounds perfect.”

And so they stayed.

Severus sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed as he fixed Y/N with a sharp look. “Have you even read the new Advanced Potions textbook yet?”

Y/N, who had settled comfortably into the chair beside him, legs draped lazily over one armrest, snorted. 

“No, Severus, I thought I’d just wing it on my N.E.W.T.s.”

He sighed dramatically, pulling the book from his bag and flipping through the pages with an irritated sort of reverence. “Then you haven’t noticed the absurd number of errors in it.”

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Errors? In the Slughorn-approved textbook?”

Severus scoffed. “Slughorn wouldn’t notice an error if it exploded in his face. Which, frankly, some of these might.” 

He jabbed at a particular page with his finger. “Here. Draught of Living Death. Ridiculous instructions. If you follow them as written, the potion will be unstable and potentially lethal.”

Y/N leaned forward, peering at the text. “It says to stir counterclockwise seven times.”

“Exactly.” He flipped a few more pages aggressively. “And this one—Babbling Beverage? Why in Merlin’s name would they suggest stewing the rat spleens first? That ruins the consistency completely.”

Y/N grinned, resting her chin on her hand. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”

Severus paused, caught off guard. His fingers, which had been poised to flip to yet another grievous offense, hesitated over the pages.

“…It’s logical,” he said finally, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “Precise. Potions do what they’re supposed to if you follow the right process.”

Y/N studied him, something unreadable in her gaze. Then, she reached out and plucked the book from his hands.

“Oi—”

“Relax, Sev,” she drawled, skimming through the pages. “If you hate this version so much, why don’t you just rewrite it yourself?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You already know what’s wrong with it. Fix it. Make notes, change the instructions, do whatever you do with your creepy little personal experiments.” She smirked. 

“Merlin knows you’d probably make a better textbook than this rubbish.”

Severus stared at her, lips parting slightly in surprise. 

“…You might actually be onto something,” he admitted.

Y/N laughed, tossing the book back at him. “A rare moment of brilliance, I know.”

He rolled his eyes but tucked the idea away, running his fingers over the cover thoughtfully.

Maybe she was right.

Y/N smirked as she watched Severus flip furiously through the pages of the textbook, muttering to himself.

“This is completely wrong,” he grumbled, tapping the page with the tip of his wand. “They’re telling students to add crushed asphodel before the infusion of wormwood. That completely alters the reaction time. If anything, it weakens the potion instead of enhancing it.”

Y/N continued to rest her chin in her palm, watching him with amusement. “And what would you do instead, Professor Snape?”

Severus shot her a glare, but his irritation was undercut by the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’d start with finely ground asphodel. Not crushed, because consistency matters. Then, let it steep after the wormwood infusion. That way, the properties mix properly instead of counteracting each other like whatever idiot wrote this thinks they should.”

Y/N whistled. “You really do think this book is a personal insult, don’t you?”

“It is an insult,” he snapped, flipping to another page. 

“This is supposed to be advanced potion-making, not first-year-level incompetence. Look at this. Elixir to Induce Euphoria. The instructions say to stir clockwise the entire time. That’s idiotic. You need to alternate clockwise and counterclockwise to balance the infusion properly, or it’ll be too volatile.”

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. 

There was something fascinating about the way he spoke when he got like this. It was sharp, passionate, as if the entire world should care about potion-making as much as he did.

“I have to say, this is the most passionate I’ve ever seen you about anything that isn’t glaring at my brother.”

Severus sighed dramatically. “If I didn’t have to waste my time dealing with him, I could actually focus on things that matter.”

Y/N chuckled. “So potions matter to you, then?”

He hesitated. “…Obviously.”

She tilted her head, watching him thoughtfully. “Then why don’t you make your own notes? Your own version of the textbook? You know more than half the idiots who’ll be using this, anyway.”

Severus was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the cover. Then, slowly, he reached into his bag and pulled out a battered old notebook, its pages filled with scribbles, corrections, and improvements in his precise, slanted handwriting.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already started, haven’t you?”

Severus cleared his throat, flipping through the notebook as if he hadn’t just been caught red-handed. “I just thought it would be useful to have the right information written down. For myself.”

Y/N smirked. “And for anyone smart enough to steal your book.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d let anyone get their hands on it.”

She grinned. “You’re a genius, Sev. You know that, right?”

He faltered for just a second, gripping the book a little tighter. “…Hardly.”

But Y/N just shook her head, leaning back. “Well, I think so.”

Severus didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue, either.

Instead, he went right back to ranting about the next mistake in the textbook. This time, something about a disastrous bezoar dosage and Y/N just listened, secretly enjoying every second of it.

Severus was mid-rant about improper bezoar usage when he noticed Y/N staring at him, a slow grin tugging at her lips. Her head still rested on her palm, her elbow propped lazily on the desk, eyes bright with amusement.

He faltered. “What?”

Y/N’s grin widened. “Nothing. Just enjoying the show.”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not performing.”

“You are,” she teased, tapping her fingers against her cheek. 

“A very passionate, very angry performance about the dangers of incompetent potion-making. Quite riveting, actually.”

Severus rolled his eyes, closing the textbook with a sharp thud. 

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, ranting to me instead of to your cauldron in the dungeons,” she pointed out.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the desk. “Because you actually listen.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly. “Of course, I do.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Severus shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, not used to being looked at like that. Like he was worth listening to.

“…You’re staring,” he muttered.

“Observing,” she corrected.

He scoffed. “And what, exactly, are you observing?”

She tilted her head, studying him like he was a particularly interesting puzzle. “Just that you get this look when you talk about potions.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A look?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, lips curling. “Like the rest of the world disappears, and it’s just you and whatever ridiculous mistake you’re trying to fix.”

Severus hesitated, unsure how to respond to that. He’d never thought about it before. But the way she said it made his chest feel strangely tight.

Y/N smirked at his silence. “It’s kind of nice, you know. Seeing you actually care about something.”

He huffed, looking away. “You make it sound as if I don’t care about anything.”

“Well,” she mused, “besides potions, glaring at Gryffindors, and being thoroughly unimpressed with everyone else…” 

She tapped her chin. “No, can’t say I’ve seen you care about much else.”

He shot her a flat look. “Hilarious.”

She grinned. “I try.”

Another pause. The candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the old classroom.

Then, Y/N’s voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “I like when you talk about potions.”

Severus glanced at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone.

Y/N shrugged, still watching him. “It’s nice hearing you talk about something that makes you happy.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Because no one had ever said that to him before.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, looking back down at his notebook. 

“…It’s not happiness,” he muttered. “It’s just—logic.”

Y/N just smiled knowingly. “If you say so, Sev.”

And despite himself, Severus didn’t argue.

Severus sat back against the desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the cover of his notebook. 

After a moment, he sighed and said, almost begrudgingly, “You played well today.”

Y/N blinked, then grinned. “Was that a compliment from Severus Snape? Merlin, I must be dreaming.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” she teased, leaning back in her chair. “Go on, say it again. Just so I know I didn’t hallucinate it.”

Severus huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“Pity,” she sighed dramatically. “Would’ve been nice to have it burned into my memory forever.”

He shook his head, but his gaze lingered on her, something softer in his usually sharp eyes. 

“You were impressive,” he admitted after a moment. “Even Slughorn wouldn’t stop talking about how Slytherin finally has a proper Seeker.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Slughorn, huh? What about you? Were you impressed?”

Severus scoffed. “I’m always impressed by competency. And considering the rest of the team is mediocre at best, it’s fortunate you know what you’re doing.”

Y/N laughed. “High praise, coming from you.”

He glanced away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It was… entertaining. Watching you completely humiliate Gryffindor.”

Y/N smirked. “So that’s what you enjoyed.”

“Obviously.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, I am the best.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Y/N only grinned, nudging his knee with her foot. “Admit it, Sev. You liked watching me play.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I admit it, will you finally stop pestering me?”

“Maybe,” she teased.

Severus exhaled, looking at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “…You were good.”

Y/N’s grin widened. “Knew it.”

He shook his head again, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t quite hide the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

Severus pulled his hand from his robe pocket, the small golden Snitch resting in his palm. The tiny wings fluttered weakly against his fingers, as if reluctant to leave his grasp.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, holding it out to Y/N.

She looked at it, then at him, and instead of taking it, she just smirked and leaned back in her chair. “Keep it.”

Severus frowned. “What?”

“Keep it,” she repeated, her voice softer this time. “So you’ll always remember me.”

His fingers curled slightly around the Snitch as he processed her words, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “…Why would I need something to remember you by?”

Y/N grinned. “Because, Sev, someday I’ll be famous. Hogwarts’ best Seeker, a legend in the making. And when that happens, you’ll want to say you knew me first.”

He scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. 

Severus looked down at the Snitch in his palm, the tiny wings brushing against his skin. He could have argued. He could have insisted she take it back. But instead, he closed his fingers around it and slipped it back into his pocket, letting the weight of it settle against him.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll keep it.”

Y/N smiled. “Good.”

And for the first time that night, Severus didn’t have a single complaint.

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter, but Severus barely paid it any mind. He sat at the Slytherin table, absently picking at his breakfast, still adjusting to the idea of carrying a Snitch in his pocket. Her Snitch.

And then, like clockwork, Y/N slid into the seat beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Morning, Sev.”

He huffed, not looking up from his plate. “You’re awfully cheerful.”

“I did win a match yesterday,” she reminded him smugly, grabbing a piece of toast. “And, you know, got a very rare compliment from a certain grumpy Potions prodigy.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to regret it.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” She smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you sleep well? You and your new prized possession, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly, but kept his expression neutral. “It’s just a Snitch.”

“My Snitch,” she corrected, taking a bite of her toast. “Did you put it somewhere safe?”

Severus exhaled through his nose, reaching into his pocket and subtly showing her the small golden sphere resting in his palm before tucking it away again. “Satisfied?”

Y/N grinned. “Very.”

He shook his head, turning his attention back to his breakfast, but he didn’t push her away when she leaned comfortably against him. 

Narcissa Black sat gracefully across from them, her sharp blue eyes scanning Y/N with mild curiosity as she stirred her tea. 

“You weren’t at the victory party last night.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, one laced with subtle judgment.

Y/N smirked, casually buttering her toast. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Of course, I noticed,” Narcissa replied, arching a perfectly shaped brow. 

“You were the star of the match, and yet, no celebratory gloating? No basking in the glory of your own success?” 

She tilted her head slightly. “Very unlike you, cousin.”

Severus huffed quietly, hiding his amusement behind his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Narcissa’s eyes flickered between the two of them before landing back on Y/N. “You did disappear rather quickly after the match…”

Y/N smirked. “What can I say? Had better company.” She nudged Severus with her knee under the table, earning an unimpressed glance from him.

Narcissa’s gaze sharpened, her lips curving slightly. 

“I see.” She rested her chin on her hand, watching Y/N with something between amusement and suspicion. 

“So, instead of celebrating with your adoring fans, you spent your evening somewhere, locked away with Severus.”

Y/N gave an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, forgive me, dear cousin, for prioritizing meaningful conversation over drunken debauchery.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Please, you love the attention.”

“True,” Y/N admitted easily. “But I love annoying Sev more.”

Severus scoffed, not looking up from his plate. “How fortunate for me.”

Narcissa observed the two of them for a moment, then smirked. “Well, I do hope he made it worth your while.”

Y/N’s grin was immediate. “Oh, he did.”

Severus stiffened, glaring at her. “Don’t say it like that.”

Narcissa chuckled, sipping her tea. “Interesting choice of company, Y/N.”

Y/N just leaned back, perfectly unbothered. “Best choice, actually.”

Severus didn’t say anything but under the table, his fingers curled around the Snitch in his pocket.

“Anyways…Sirius came looking for you yesterday. Something about introducing you to his best mate, Potter. I think he fancies you,” Narcissa said, her tone light, but her gaze sharp as she watched Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N snorted, tearing off another bite of toast. 

“James Potter? Fancies me? Please, Cissy, don’t insult my intelligence.”

“I’m serious,” Narcissa pressed, twirling a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. 

“Sirius wouldn’t shut up about it. He kept saying how he thinks you and Potter would ‘get on brilliantly.’”

Severus, who had been silent up until now, suddenly gripped his fork a little too tightly. His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, staring at his plate as if it personally offended him.

Y/N sighed dramatically. 

“And yet, somehow, I doubt James Potter would be terribly interested in me, given the way he practically worships Evans.”

Narcissa waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, well, maybe he’s expanding his options. You are the Black everyone actually likes, after all.”

Severus scoffed, finally breaking his silence. “Potter is an arrogant, brainless git. You’d sooner find a Kneazle getting along with a Manticore than have an intelligent conversation with him.”

Y/N smirked at his tone. “Aw, Sev, that almost sounded jealous.”

His scowl deepened. “I don’t get jealous.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Right. And yet, you look like you’re about to hex your plate into oblivion.”

Severus set his fork down with deliberate care, clearly restraining himself. “I simply find it unbelievable that anyone would subject themselves to Potter’s presence willingly.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. 

“Don’t worry, Sev. If I ever lose all sense of self-respect and go anywhere near James Potter, you’ll be the first to know.”

His expression didn’t soften, but the tight grip on his robes loosened ever so slightly. 

“See that you don’t,” he muttered.

Narcissa just smiled behind her teacup, watching them both with interest.

“As if Potter has a chance…” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Did he really think I’d choose him over Severus? He’s literally a bully, just like that Gryffindor of a brother of mine.”

Severus, who had been gripping his goblet a little too tightly, stilled at her words. His dark eyes flickered to her face, searching for any sign that she was joking. But she wasn’t. She had said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Narcissa, however, only hummed, looking thoroughly entertained. “Oh? So you are choosing Severus, then?”

Y/N smirked. 

“Obviously.” 

She leaned into Severus slightly, her shoulder pressing against his. “Why would I waste my time with a Potter when I already have the best company?”

Severus swallowed hard, his face carefully blank but his fingers twitched slightly against the table. He knew better than to read into her words, but for the first time that morning, the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

Narcissa’s smirk widened. “Interesting,” she mused, tilting her head. 

“You’re lucky, Severus.”

Severus huffed, finally recovering enough to roll his eyes. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Y/N grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “It is.”

And despite himself, Severus didn’t argue.

Narcissa took a slow sip of her tea, her smirk never wavering. 

“Well, that settles it, then. I suppose I’ll have to break the tragic news to Potter—he never stood a chance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, please do. And be sure to tell Sirius that I’d rather hex myself than date his insufferable best mate.”

Severus let out a quiet breath, his fingers still curled around his goblet. 

“Speaking of your Gryffindor brother,” Narcissa continued, setting her cup down with a soft clink, “he was in quite the mood when I saw him last night. Apparently, he’s rather upset that you’re still spending all your time with Severus instead of ‘better company.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stealing a piece of fruit from Severus’ plate. 

“Right, because his definition of ‘better company’ consists of Potter and Lupin and that other friend of theirs. No, thanks.”

Severus sneered at the mention of them, his grip on his goblet tightening again. “Black should concern himself with his own miserable existence and stay out of yours.”

Y/N smirked, popping the fruit into her mouth. “Agreed.” 

She turned to Severus, nudging him with her knee. “But if he ever tries to drag me to the Gryffindor common room, do me a favor and curse me unconscious, yeah?”

Severus gave her a flat look. “I’d do it regardless.”

Y/N laughed, completely unbothered, while Narcissa shook her head in amusement. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Y/N said, resting her head on Severus’ shoulder, “you’re still sitting with us.”

Narcissa merely smirked, watching the way Severus stiffened at the sudden contact, his ears just barely tinged red. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Once Narcissa had finished her tea and had her fun at their expense, she stood gracefully, smoothing out her robes. “Well, I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” She shot Y/N a knowing look before glancing at Severus with the same amused expression. “Try not to let her get you into too much trouble, Severus.”

Severus merely scowled, but Y/N grinned. “No promises.”

With a quiet chuckle, Narcissa turned and left the Great Hall, her blonde hair swaying as she went.

The moment she was out of earshot, Severus finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. 

“You didn’t have to say that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”

Severus shifted slightly, his fingers brushing over his pocket where the Snitch still rested. 

“That you’d choose me over Potter,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t believe it.

Y/N rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. “But I would.”

He frowned, clearly skeptical. “It’s not a competition.”

“Well, if it were, you’d win.”

Severus looked at her then, really looked at her, as if trying to find the punchline in her words. 

But there wasn’t one. 

Y/N was being completely serious.

“…Why?” he asked after a beat.

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening just a fraction. 

“Because I actually like spending time with you, Sev.” She nudged his knee under the table, smirking. “And because you’re my favorite.”

Severus swallowed, looking away as a faint redness dusted his pale cheeks. He wasn’t used to being anyone’s favorite.

“…Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no venom in his voice.

Y/N grinned. “That’s me.”

And for the first time that morning, Severus let himself relax, the weight of the Snitch in his pocket grounding him as he sat beside the only person who had ever truly chosen him.

After finishing breakfast, Y/N and Severus stood from the Slytherin table, grabbing their books and making their way toward the dungeons for Potions class.

Severus walked beside her, his usual scowl in place, but Y/N could tell he wasn’t actually annoyed. If anything, he seemed more thoughtful than usual, his fingers idly drumming against the spine of his Potions textbook.

Y/N bumped her shoulder against his. “What’s with the brooding? Thinking of new ways to make Potter’s life miserable?”

Severus scoffed. “I don’t need to think of new ways. He’s miserable enough just existing.”

Y/N laughed. “That’s fair.”

They arrived at the dimly lit Potions classroom, where students were already filing in. Slughorn, ever the enthusiastic professor, was scribbling today’s instructions on the blackboard.

Y/N and Severus slid into their usual seats at the back, setting their books down.

“Another partnered assignment today,” Y/N observed, glancing at the board. “Think Slughorn will have the audacity to separate us?”

Severus smirked slightly, his dark eyes flickering toward the front of the room. “He wouldn’t dare.”

And, as if proving his point, when Slughorn finally addressed the class, he didn’t even bother reassigning partners.

“Excellent, excellent! You may stay with your current partners,” Slughorn announced. “Today, we’ll be brewing a Draught of Peace! A rather delicate potion. One mistake and it won’t work at all.”

Severus rolled his eyes as Slughorn droned on about the potion’s properties. Y/N, meanwhile, leaned toward him, grinning. “Bet I’ll finish mine before you.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You can’t even cut ingredients properly.”

“That’s slander.”

“That’s fact.”

Y/N huffed but still smirked as she flipped open her textbook. 

“Fine, Professor Snape, you do all the chopping, and I’ll handle the brewing.”

Severus sighed as if this was the greatest burden in the world, but he didn’t argue. He never did when it came to her.

And so, as the rest of the class struggled, Y/N and Severus worked seamlessly, the usual banter filling the space between them as they brewed yet another flawless potion—together.

As usual, working with Severus was effortless. While other students fumbled with their ingredients, misread instructions, or hesitated over their cauldrons, Y/N and Severus moved like a well-oiled machine.

Severus meticulously chopped the ingredients, his precise, practiced movements ensuring uniform slices. Y/N, despite her usual teasing, took the brewing process seriously, stirring at the exact pace and adding the ingredients only when Severus nodded in approval.

“Steady,” he murmured as she carefully poured in the powdered moonstone.

Y/N smirked. “You act like I’m about to botch the whole thing.”

“Because you would,” he replied dryly.

Y/N gasped in mock offense. “Rude.”

Severus merely shook his head, a rare, almost amused look flickering across his features. “Just keep stirring.”

They continued working, the soft bubbling of their potion filling the space between them. Around them, students groaned in frustration as some had cauldrons emitting faint purple smoke, while others had turned a worrying shade of green.

Slughorn made his way around the room, peering into cauldrons and offering words of encouragement (or, in some cases, looks of deep disappointment). When he reached their station, he beamed.

“Ah, exquisite work, as always!” he declared, clapping his hands together. “Perfect color, perfect consistency. Well done, well done!”

Severus merely inclined his head, while Y/N grinned. “Naturally.”

Slughorn chuckled. “I daresay, the two of you make quite the brilliant team. Perhaps I should have you brewing for me.”

Y/N nudged Severus. “Hear that, Sev? We’re brilliant.”

Severus scoffed, but his lips twitched slightly. “I am brilliant. You’re just lucky you sit next to me.”

Slughorn let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, you remind me of myself in my youth, Severus! Such confidence, such talent! If you ever have any interest in pursuing Potions beyond Hogwarts, I would be more than happy to offer guidance.”

Severus gave a polite nod. “Thank you, sir.”

Slughorn turned to Y/N. “And you, Miss Black. Remarkable work as well! Though I must say, I’m quite surprised you didn’t celebrate your Quidditch victory last night.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing at Severus briefly. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, well. More dedicated to your studies, I see! Excellent priorities, my dear.” 

He gave them both a final pleased nod before moving on to the next station.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Y/N turned to Severus. “See? Brilliant team.”

Severus exhaled, shaking his head as he began cleaning up their workspace. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

And for the rest of the class, while their classmates struggled, Y/N and Severus sat back, their potion already perfected—just as always.

Severus sat with his quill resting idly between his fingers, his gaze flickering between his parchment and Y/N as she leaned over to copy his notes.

She didn’t even bother asking anymore. She just slid his notebook closer, turned her own to a blank page, and began copying down his meticulous handwriting with lazy, fluid strokes.

Severus should have been irritated. Should have snapped at her to take her own notes, to pay attention instead of relying on him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched as she absentmindedly chewed the end of her quill, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. A few strands of her dark hair fell forward, brushing against the parchment, and every so often, she tapped her fingers against the desk in an offbeat rhythm.

She had done this a hundred times before. Stealing his notes, ignoring her own half-written ones, leaning just a little too close without realizing it. But for some reason, today, Severus couldn’t look away.

“Sev,” Y/N suddenly said, not looking up, still writing.

He blinked, straightening slightly. “What?”

“You’re staring.”

His grip on his quill tightened. “No, I’m not.”

Y/N smirked, finally glancing at him from beneath her lashes. “You are.”

Severus scoffed, shifting in his seat, his expression settling back into its usual scowl. “You’re copying my notes. I’m simply making sure you don’t ruin them with your atrocious handwriting.”

Y/N gasped in mock offense, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. 

“Atrocious? Excuse me, I happen to have flawless handwriting.”

Severus snatched his notebook back, flipping it shut. 

“It’s a disgrace.”

Y/N laughed, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed at him, entirely unbothered. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep taking notes for me forever.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly. It was just enough for Y/N to catch.

─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────

The Slytherin common room was quiet that night, the usual chatter of students fading as most had either gone to bed or were off doing Merlin-knows-what in the castle. The fire crackled softly in the dimly lit space, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Severus and Y/N sat side by side on the emerald-green sofa closest to the fireplace, books open on their laps.

Well, Severus was reading. Y/N was halfheartedly flipping through her textbook, occasionally tapping her fingers against the spine, clearly bored.

After a few minutes of silence, she let out a dramatic sigh, tilting her head to look at him. 

“Sev.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

Severus exhaled sharply, still not looking at her. 

“Then go to bed.”

Y/N ignored that completely and shifted to rest her head against his shoulder. 

“Nah. This is fine.”

Severus stiffened for half a second before forcing himself to relax. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, leaning against him like it was the most natural thing in the world, but it always caught him off guard.

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, eyes still on his book.

“I’m existing,” she corrected, smirking against his shoulder.

“Exactly.”

Y/N chuckled, and the sound was warm, familiar. She didn’t move away, though, and after a moment, Severus found himself leaning into it.

They sat like that for a while, the only sounds being the flickering of the fire and the occasional turn of a page.

“I’m stealing your notes again tomorrow.”

Severus sighed, closing his book. “Of course you are.”

And when she smiled, drowsy and content, Severus simply shook his head.

The common room grew quieter as the fire burned lower, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Severus had long since stopped reading, though his book remained open in his lap.

Y/N had gone still beside him, her head slipping from his shoulder. He glanced down just in time to see her shift, curling up slightly as her head now resting against his lap.

Severus tensed.

His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid as if moving even an inch would somehow wake her. But Y/N didn’t stir. She simply exhaled softly, her face peaceful, her arms tucked beneath her head as she settled deeper against him.

For a long moment, Severus just stared.

Her hair spilled over his robes, the firelight casting a warm glow on her features. 

She looked… comfortable. Completely at ease.

He should wake her up. Tell her to go to bed.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he swallowed hard and carefully set his book aside. His fingers twitched as if debating whether or not to move, to touch her, but he quickly clenched them into fists, keeping them at his sides.

Merlin, she was infuriating.

Did she even realize what she did to him? How she invaded his space so easily, so effortlessly, like she belonged there?

Severus exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to lean back against the sofa. He couldn’t (wouldn’t) wake her.

Not when she looked like that. 

So, instead, he sat there, unmoving, his heartbeat entirely too loud in his ears. And as the fire crackled beside him, Severus Snape did something he never allowed himself to do.

He let himself enjoy the moment.

Severus hesitated. His fingers hovered just above Y/N’s hair, as if touching her would shatter the quiet, fragile peace of the moment.

But she was there, asleep on his lap, her breathing slow and even. The firelight cast soft golden hues across her skin, making her seem almost unreal like something delicate and untouchable.

Severus exhaled, then, before he could think better of it, finally let his fingers brush against her hair.

It was soft. Softer than he expected. His movements were tentative at first, barely there, but when she didn’t stir but simply nestled deeper against him, he let himself continue.

He didn’t know why he did it. He had never been one for tenderness, never the type to comfort or soothe. But with Y/N, it felt natural. 

His fingers threaded through her hair again, and his breath caught when she shifted slightly, a faint hum escaping her lips.

Severus stilled, his heart hammering against his ribs. But Y/N only sighed in her sleep, her body relaxing further against him.

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he withdrew it, resting it tensely on the armrest.

This was dangerous.

She was dangerous.

Because if she kept doing this, kept looking at him like that, touching him like it meant something, falling asleep on him like he was someone safe, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend he didn’t want her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─

The wind was crisp as Y/N and Severus made their way down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, the chatter of students filling the air. 

It had been a few weeks since that night in the common room—since Y/N had unknowingly ruined Severus with her presence, her warmth, the feeling of her hair slipping through his fingers.

And now, here they were, walking side by side, the snow crunching beneath their feet as Y/N tugged on his sleeve.

“Come on, Sev,” she said, linking her arm through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You walk so slowly.”

Severus stiffened at the contact, his breath catching for just a fraction of a second.

She was touching him again.

And not just touching but rather clinging. As if she belonged there. As if she didn’t even have to think about it.

Y/N didn’t seem to notice his internal crisis, though. She simply grinned, leaning slightly into his side as they made their way toward Honeydukes.

“I don’t know why you even agreed to come,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. “You hate sweets.”

“I don’t hate them,” Severus muttered, keeping his gaze firmly ahead, pretending that the warmth of her arm against his wasn’t distracting him. 

“I just don’t see the point in wasting my money on sugar when I could buy something useful.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Sweets are useful. They’re essential, actually.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

Because Y/N was still holding onto him, and Merlin help him, he liked it.

The second they stepped inside Honeydukes, Y/N all but dragged Severus through the shop, pointing at various sweets with an excited grin.

“Oh, you have to try these,” she said, grabbing a handful of Chocolate Frogs. 

“And these—” She tossed a few Sugar Quills into her basket. 

“Oh! And definitely these.”

Severus sighed, crossing his arms as she piled more and more sweets into her basket. 

“You do realize I never asked for any of this.”

Y/N grinned, completely unfazed. “That’s the best part. You don’t have to ask. I just know what you need.”

Severus scoffed. “And what exactly do I need?”

“Sugar.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N grabbed a small chocolate and unwrapped it. Then, before he could protest, she held it up to his lips.

“Open,” she ordered.

Severus stared at her, unimpressed. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” She wiggled the chocolate in front of his face. “Come on, Sev. Humor me.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet…

He begrudgingly parted his lips just enough for her to pop the chocolate into his mouth.

Y/N beamed.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she teased, watching him closely.

Severus chewed, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he muttered, “It’s fine.”

Y/N gasped. “Fine? This is premium chocolate, Severus. Premium.”

Severus just shook his head, swallowing the chocolate. “Idiot.”

Severus sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. But when Y/N lifted the next treat to his lips, he didn’t resist.

By the time they left Honeydukes, Y/N had practically stuffed half a dozen different sweets into Severus’ mouth. Each time grinning triumphantly whenever he reluctantly accepted them.

Now, as they strolled back through Hogsmeade, Y/N happily munching on a Sugar Quill, Severus still tasted the remnants of chocolate and caramel on his tongue.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like you hated it,” Y/N teased, bumping her shoulder against his. “You ate everything I gave you.”

Severus shot her a flat look. 

“You shoved it in my mouth. What was I supposed to do? Spit it out?”

Y/N smirked. “You could’ve said no.”

Severus scoffed. “Like you’d listen.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the cold winter air crisp against their skin.

Then, suddenly, Y/N stopped in front of a small tea shop, peering through the frosted windows. “Oh, let’s go in here for a bit. It’s freezing.”

Severus followed her gaze, immediately recognizing the shop. Madam Puddifoot’s.

His face twisted in disgust. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because,” Severus muttered, glaring at the couples visible through the window, “this is practically a breeding ground for lovesick imbeciles.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You would say that.”

Severus crossed his arms. “I refuse to set foot in there.”

Y/N, still grinning, hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. How about The Three Broomsticks instead?”

Severus hesitated, eyeing her warily. “And what’s the catch?”

Y/N linked her arm through his again, smirking. “No catch. Just butterbeer. And maybe, maybe, I’ll stop feeding you sweets for the day.”

Severus exhaled through his nose, pretending to be completely unaffected by the way she clung to him so easily.

“…Fine.”

Y/N beamed. “Good choice, Sev.”

And just like that, she pulled him along once more, her arm still wrapped around his.

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with students escaping the cold. As soon as they stepped inside, Y/N led Severus toward a small table near the corner, away from the loudest groups.

She let go of his arm (much to his dismay, though he’d never admit it) and slid into her seat. 

“I’ll order for us,” she declared before he could argue, already making her way to the counter.

Severus sighed, rubbing his temples. He should’ve known letting her drag him here would mean losing every battle.

A few minutes later, Y/N returned with two steaming mugs of butterbeer, setting one in front of him.

“There,” she said proudly, sliding into her seat. “A drink and a break from my relentless generosity. You should be thanking me.”

Severus rolled his eyes but accepted the mug anyway. “I didn’t ask for your generosity in the first place.”

Y/N smirked. “Quit your whining, Snape.”

Severus huffed but took a sip of his butterbeer. It was warm, sweet, and undeniably comforting, not that he’d ever say that out loud.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the tavern settling over them. Every now and then, Severus found himself watching her like how her fingers curled around her mug, how she tapped her nails idly against the wood, how her lips pursed slightly as she took a sip.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

Y/N suddenly looked up, catching him mid-stare.

Severus immediately looked away, clearing his throat.

“What?” he muttered.

Y/N tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You were staring.”

Severus scoffed. “I was not.”

“Liar.” She grinned, leaning forward slightly. “See something you like, Sev?”

Severus choked on his butterbeer.

Y/N burst into laughter, her eyes shining with amusement as he coughed into his sleeve.

Severus opened his mouth but before he could, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Y/N turned in her seat, her smile vanishing as she spotted the person standing beside their table.

Sirius Black.

And behind him—Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew.

Severus clenched his jaw, already bracing himself.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, little sister,” Sirius drawled, his lips curled in amusement. “And with him, no less.”

Potter elbowed him. “Guess she has questionable taste.”

Severus scowled, but before he could snap back, Y/N spoke first.

“If you came all this way just to be annoying, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair.

Sirius chuckled. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You could be sitting with anyone—and yet, here you are, stuck with old Snivellus.”

Severus’ fists clenched under the table, his face carefully blank.

Y/N, however, just laughed.

“You’re so predictable, Sirius,” she said, shaking her head. 

“You think I care what you lot think?” She gestured between them lazily. 

“If I wanted to sit with idiots, I’d let you all join us. But I’d rather not lose brain cells, thanks.”

Sirius raised his brows, clearly surprised by her sharpness.

Lupin sighed, giving her a wary look. “Y/N, you really don’t—”

“I do,” she interrupted, her tone unwavering. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something.”

Sirius scoffed, but Potter pulled at his sleeve. “Leave it, mate. Let her sit with her pet snake if she wants.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed dangerously. “At least he’s not an arrogant, self-obsessed git,” she shot back.

Potter’s smug expression faltered.

Sirius let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t realize you hated us that much.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I don’t. But I hate this. The way you always think you can tell me what to do. Who to be around.”

“Sirius… I’m not you,” she murmured. “I never was.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He turned to leave, pausing only once. “Don’t come crying to me when he betrays you.”

With that, he walked away, the others trailing behind him.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Merlin.”

Severus, who had been deadly quiet through the entire exchange, finally spoke.

“…Why did you do that?”

Y/N looked at him, confused. “Do what?”

“Defend me,” he muttered, his voice oddly unreadable. “Against them.”

Y/N frowned. “Severus, I’d defend you against anyone.”

The words were so simple, so obvious to her. But to him…

Severus stared at her, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes.

And then, slowly he reached for his mug again, taking a long sip of butterbeer to cover the unbearable warmth spreading through his chest.

“…You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

Y/N grinned. “Maybe. But I’m your idiot.”

Severus scoffed, rolling his eyes.

But he didn’t argue.

Severus watched as Y/N slumped back in her chair, exhaling a tired sigh.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twirled the handle of her butterbeer mug between her fingers, her gaze distant. 

“I was just thinking…” She hesitated, then let out a humorless chuckle. “I wonder how long I have before my father pushes me to some pureblood boy.”

Severus stiffened.

Her words settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

It wasn’t surprising, really. It was expected for someone like Y/N, from a prestigious family like the Blacks. Arranged marriages, strategic unions, keeping the bloodline pure.

But no lie, the thought of Y/N being forced into a life she didn’t want, with someone she didn’t choose made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He swallowed, his voice carefully neutral. “…Do you have anyone in mind?”

Y/N scoffed. “As if it’ll matter. It’s not like I’ll get a choice.” 

She tapped her nails against the table, sighing again. “I’m sure my father already has someone lined up. Probably some arrogant pureblood twat who thinks he owns the world.”

Severus’ grip on his mug tightened. Of course he does.

“You don’t have to do it,” he said quietly.

Y/N gave him a knowing look. “You know that’s not how it works, Sev.”

He clenched his jaw. Of course it isn’t.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, with a wry smile, Y/N nudged his foot under the table. 

“Unless you want to marry me, Snape.”

Severus nearly choked on air.

Y/N burst out laughing at his reaction, but there was something in her expression like she was only half joking.

Severus forced himself to breathe. 

“You really need to stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” she teased. “Does it make you nervous?”

Severus huffed. “It’s infuriating.”

Y/N grinned. “Good.”

But as she took another sip of her butterbeer, Severus noticed how her fingers curled slightly tighter around the mug. How her smile, bright and teasing as always, didn’t quite reach her eyes.

And he hated that.

Hated that she felt trapped.

Hated that, no matter what she wanted, the world would still try to dictate her fate.

Without thinking, he muttered, “I’d rather it be me than one of them.”

Y/N stilled.

Slowly, she set her mug down, her eyes meeting his. 

“What did you just say?”

Severus hesitated. He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t even realized he’d said it aloud.

But now that he had…He didn’t take it back.

Y/N blinked at him, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no laughter.

Severus exhaled sharply and looked away. 

“Forget it.”

Y/N, however, did not forget it.

Instead, she just kept staring at him, something unreadable in her gaze.

Something dangerously close to hope.

Severus’ breath caught in his throat.

He turned to look at her, but Y/N was already staring at him with her eyes unwavering.

“No,” she said, voice quiet but firm. 

“Tell me, Severus. Because I swear… if I heard whatever it is that I think I heard, then…” 

She swallowed, her fingers curling against the table. 

“I’d give it all up.”

Severus’ heart stopped.

For a moment, all he could hear was the low hum of The Three Broomsticks around them—the chatter of students, the clinking of glasses, the distant sound of rain beginning to drizzle outside.

But right now, none of it mattered.

Not when she was looking at him like that.

Like he was something worth choosing.

Severus exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. 

“Y/N… don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” she challenged, leaning closer. 

“Because it’s impossible? Because you think I wouldn’t do it?” Her voice softened, gaze searching his. 

“Because you don’t want me to?”

Severus clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists beneath the table.

Of course he wanted her to.

But she was a Black. She had a future already planned—one that had nothing to do with him.

But then, she was here. 

Offering, choosing him, despite it all.

“Y/N… if you say something like that, you can’t take it back.”

Y/N gave him a small, lopsided smile. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want to.”

Severus hated how much that affected him.

Because the truth was—if things were different, if the world wasn’t what it was…

He’d choose her, too.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached across the table, his fingers barely brushing against hers.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, unsteady. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But she only turned her hand over, letting her fingers lace through his.

“Sev,” she murmured, “I do.”

Severus stared at their intertwined fingers, his breath unsteady.

She wasn’t letting go.

Did she understand what she was saying? What she was offering?

Giving up her family’s expectations—for him? Throwing away a life of power, wealth, and status because of a quiet, half-spoken confession he hadn’t even meant to say?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

His grip tightened slightly around her hand, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“You’d really do that?”

Y/N exhaled, something relieved in her expression. 

“I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Severus felt something in his chest ache.

“I don’t want you to regret it,” he murmured.

“I won’t,” she said immediately. “But you have to tell me, Sev… if I gave it all up—my family’s expectations, the stupid arranged marriage—if I walked away from all of it…” 

She hesitated, then asked, softer, “Would you want me?”

Severus inhaled sharply.

The answer was yes. Of course it was yes.

But admitting it and saying it aloud would make it real.

And if he let himself have this, let himself believe that someone like her could choose someone like him…

“I—” His voice faltered, thick with something he couldn’t name. “Y/N, this isn’t fair to you.”

Y/N let out a soft, exasperated laugh. “Severus, I’m the one making this choice. And I’d choose you. Every time.”

Severus felt his world tilt.

Every time.

He looked at her then and for the first time in his life, he let himself want.

Slowly, hesitantly, he raised their joined hands, pressing his lips lightly against the back of hers.

It was the smallest, softest thing.

But Y/N inhaled sharply, eyes widening because she knew. She knew what it meant.

Severus pulled away just slightly, his lips barely brushing against her skin as he whispered, “Then I’d choose you, too.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

He held her gaze, his fingers still curled gently around hers, his lips still tingling from where they had touched her skin.

Y/N swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Say it again.”

Severus exhaled shakily. He didn’t need to ask what she meant.

“I’d choose you,” he murmured.

Her grip on his hand tightened, like she was trying to ground herself. And then, without thinking, Y/N surged forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Severus stiffened but only for a second. Because as soon as he processed what was happening, he melted into it.

His arms hesitated before slowly wrapping around her, his hand coming up to rest on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair.

She smelled like fresh strawberry milk and ink and something inherently her, something warm and safe and entirely forbidden.

“I meant it, Sev,” she whispered against his shoulder. 

“I don’t care about any of it. I just—” She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping the front of his robes. 

“I want you.”

“Y/N…”

She shook her head. 

“No, don’t try to push me away again. You want me too, I know you do. So tell me, Severus Snape—do you want me enough to fight for this?”

He would burn the entire world if it meant keeping her.

His grip on her waist tightened as he exhaled, slow and deliberate.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’ll fight for it.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, eyes searching his. “You mean it?”

Instead of answering, Severus did the one thing he’d never allowed himself to do.

He leaned in, slowly and carefully, giving her a chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

And when their lips finally met, it was soft and tentative, like the two of them were still learning how to have this, how to believe in it.

But then Y/N sighed against his mouth, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer and suddenly, there was nothing hesitant about it.

Severus kissed her like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life and didn’t know if he’d ever get it again.

Because maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe the world would take this from him.

But not today. And maybe not ever. 

Today, she was his. Tomorrow, she’ll be his. 

Severus tightened his grip on her waist, searching her face as if trying to make sense of her words.

“You know you’ll get disowned for being with a half-blood,” he muttered.

But Y/N only laughed. A soft, amused sound, like the thought of it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“At least my mother would have the pleasure of blasting my face off that stupid family tree,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She’s been dying to do it for years, anyway.”

Severus frowned. “Y/N—”

“No, Sev.” She reached up, brushing a strand of his dark hair away from his face. 

“I mean it. My family doesn’t control me. Not my mother, not my father, not Sirius—no one.” Her voice softened as she cupped his cheek. 

“I choose you.”

Severus inhaled sharply.

He had spent his whole life being a second choice. An afterthought. Someone people tolerated but never chose.

But Y/N… she wasn’t hesitating.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he whispered, barely trusting his voice.

Y/N smiled. Smirked, actually. “I do.” 

She leaned closer, eyes flickering between his lips and his gaze. 

“Now, are you going to keep questioning my life choices, or are you going to kiss me again?”

Severus let out something between a sigh and a laugh before giving in.

He kissed her.

And this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Because, for once in his life, someone had chosen him.

As if she hadn’t just turned his world upside down, Y/N pulled away, settled comfortably beside him, and asked, 

“So, tell me about that new potion you were working on.”

Severus blinked. “What?”

She smirked. “You were ranting about it last week, remember? Something about stabilizing the Wolfsbane formula? I was listening, you know.”

Severus stared at her, still reeling from everything that had just happened. The kiss, the way she had chosen him so effortlessly. And now, she was acting like it was just another normal afternoon between them.

But that was Y/N Black. She had always been like this. Unshaken. Unbothered. Acting like she hadn’t just kissed him like she meant it.

And Merlin help him, but Severus loved that about her.

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N just grinned. 

Severus rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Fine. If you must know…” He turned slightly, getting into his usual lecture mode. “The problem with the Wolfsbane Potion is its volatility when stored improperly. The key is stabilizing the aconite concentration without diminishing its effects—”

And just like always, Y/N listened.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded in quiet interest, and let him speak.

And for the first time in his life, Severus felt like someone truly wanted to hear what he had to say.

They had been deep in conversation—Severus explaining the intricacies of potion stabilization, his voice passionate, his hands gesturing slightly as he spoke.

And then, out of nowhere, he said—

“And did you know, for the longest time, I have had my eyes on you and you don’t even realize that I’m so in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

She turned to him, eyes wide, searching his face for any hint that he was joking. But Severus was dead serious.

His dark eyes held hers, unwavering, like he had needed to say it. Like it had been clawing at him for years. And for once, he didn’t look like he regretted speaking.

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again, completely caught off guard. 

“You—” She let out a breathless laugh. 

“You just say things like that in the middle of a potions discussion?”

Severus smirked slightly, but his voice was softer when he said, “I suppose I do.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, a grin tugging at her lips. “Sev—”

“I mean it.” His fingers twitched where they rested against the table. 

“I have for a long time.”

Y/N’s chest ached.

Slowly, she reached over, threading her fingers through his. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m so in love with you, too.”

Something in Severus’ expression softened.

He squeezed her hand.

“Good,” he murmured.

Severus furrowed his brows as Y/N suddenly pulled away, tilting her head at him with a knowing smirk.

“Where’s my Snitch, Sev?” she asked.

Severus hesitated for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his robes, fingers brushing against the small, familiar golden ball. He had carried it with him every day since she gave it to him, unwilling to part with something so hers.

Wordlessly, he handed it back.

Y/N took it with a quiet hum, running her fingers over the cool metal before pressing it open with ease.

Severus watched as the delicate wings fluttered, revealing a small folded note inside. His stomach tightened—he had never opened it before. He hadn’t even realized there was something inside.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She simply pulled out the note, unfolded it, and turned it around for him to see.

Severus’ breath hitched.

There, in her familiar handwriting, were three simple words:

“I choose you, Severus Snape.”

His heart stopped.

And then it raced.

His lips parted slightly as he stared at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

But she only smiled, pressing the Snitch back into his palm. 

“Keep it for me, won’t you?” she murmured.

Severus swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around the Snitch, holding onto it like a lifeline.

He had never been given something so precious before.

And now, he swore he’d never let it go.

“…Always,” he whispered.