Name: Severus Benjamin Snape
Age & Birthday: 22, 9th of January
Gender & Pronouns: Cis-male & he/him
Sexuality: Bisexual
Occupation: Potion Maker
Blood Status: Half-blood
House: Slytherin
Affiliation: Death Eater
Family: Only Child
Languages: English and French
Residence: Lives in a concealed flat in muggle London
MAGICAL:
Boggart: Lily Dying
Patronus: Doe
Amortenia: tbd
OWLs: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Divination
NEWTs: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Dinvination.
Severus Snape is an only child, born to a muggle father, Tobias and pureblood witch, Eileen Snape. He was raised in the poor area of Spinner's End, a muggle dwelling, that was close to Lily and Petunia Evans. He met them when he was nine years old and instantly fell in love with Lily Evans, though only a friendship would be formed.
It was together they would attend Hogwarts, though the excitement was short lived when he was placed into Slytherin and she was put into Gryffindor. He rather excelled in his studies, potions and defense against the dark arts became his passion. This is also when he formed a hatred for the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black, tired of their constant bullying. Though over the years it did put a strain on his friendship with Lily, having them falling out in his fifth year when he took to a group of Slytherins who believed in a pure society. He was part of Slughorn's group for his talent's in potion-making.
The hardest part for Severus was losing Lily and he found himself going through a downward spiral where he would seek out the physical touch of others, but unable to form any meaningful connections, his heart still belonging to a certain redhead.
Shortly out of Hogwarts, Snape was recruited to be a Death Eater, soon after regretting his choices, unable to fully believe in what they had to offer. Though, he kept his head down and did what was needed of him, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
One had paid attention to his struggles and approached him one day about potentially moving to the side where he belongs. It was the years of conditioning and fear, that he refused the offer, finding that he drew more away from society and a bitterness took over his soul, even more so when he sees Lily with James Potter.
"You're always working." Nick said, his voice irrepressibly fond. Sev's work ethic always had been annoyingly fantastic. For as long as Nick could remember it had been like this. Sev worked and Nick annoyed him while he worked.
He could feel his heart skip a beat as their fingers brushed, a stupid uncontrollable reaction. It took a breath or two before he tangled their fingers together, almost but not quite holding hands. It made him feel electric in the best possible way.
"When have I ever minded my fucking language, Sev?" He asked, squeezing their fingers slightly. "You gonna start making me or something?"
Nicholas wasn’t wrong, Severus did bury himself in his work, more often than not. It was easier to focus on potions than deal with the world beyond his room. “I don’t imagine that’s going to change,” he muttered, eyes flicking briefly toward the window, as if the outside itself was something to be avoided.
His gaze dropped to where their fingers were now loosely laced together. He didn’t pull away, not quite yet. Nicholas had always had a soft spot for these small gestures. Severus could tolerate it. For now.
He glanced up, lips curling into something just shy of a smirk. “It’d be a shame if something... unfortunate happened to that mouth of yours.” His tone was dry, but unmistakably amused. “A potion mishap, perhaps. Something to keep you quiet.”
The streets were full of people who possessed private thoughts and live,s which is perfect for Max to extract. He took the position with his hands in his pockets and proceeded to casually walk. Max looked up in time to catch the gaze of a wizard. Then something he never felt surged through him and he stopped short, clutching his head. There was only one person who he couldn't attach his mind to, but this was different. It felt like he was hearing a combination of white noise and his inner thoughts projected back to him. That wasn't possible.
Max looked around the crowded and tunneled street, eyes searching for who could be cursing him. He doubled back, taking long strides until he found the wizard he had only passed moments before. Max grabbed the man by his robes and shoved him against the alley's brick walls. He was a man of strategy and chose the right target as the noise only grew louder between his ears. "Who the fuck are you?"
Severus moved along the familiar path with practiced ease, his strides precise, his focus inward. This stretch of street was one he could navigate without thought, which suited him. It gave him space to concentrate, to keep his mind shielded, and more importantly, to drown out the noise of others.
The sudden force of movement caught him off guard. In an instant, his back slammed against cold stone, fingers fisted in the front of his robes. His dark eyes snapped to the stranger’s, sharp and unreadable.
“Unhand me,” he said, voice low and more warning than request.
"That might be a first, I don't think he's ever gotten along with anyone." Besides maybe his wives but those didn't tend to stick around that long. She had no idea how her own mum was lasting so long. She tilted her head, trying to imagine what could possibly be inefficient about Marcus's cutting remark routine.
"It can always be both. He'd like to use me as some sort of social hierarchy chess piece so really it only seems fair to use him in turn." She didn't want to get married off like some medieval lady. "It definitely saves time, and they usually avoid me for a while afterwards. He's quite helpful when he wants to be, my stepfather."
Severus had no real interest in meeting the man, but he had to admit, he found the conversation oddly amusing. The whole pureblood family escapade was something he'd never envied, he was content with remaining on the outskirts.
“Ah yes, the noble tradition,” he said dryly. “Strategic marriages and carefully traded heirs. All for the illusion of power.” He took a slow sip of his tea, eyes steady. “Have you ever just told him no?” His tone wasn’t judgmental, more curious, like he was genuinely interested in how far she'd pushed back.
Beck was still grapling with own moral decisions, some less severe than sliding a death eater mask over his face as he followed Severus. Their mission was simple if it was as easy as Severus had described it. They had two different methods of being there, with Beck's presence being more of a cautionary one. He followed behind Snape until he saw someone on the ground. Beck was already dropping down to the potioneer's side, opening his bag for the quick things he put there before leaving. "What are you not telling me?" he asked Snape as he started on the wound. The mission was now feeling too simple, naked of any facts for Beck. He sparred a glance over to Snape as he got out vials. There was a small intersection of his own small medical knowledge and Snape's vast knowledge when it came to potions. "What are you giving him?"
Severus stuck to the only thing he could rely on: the orders he’d been given. He didn’t ask questions, had learned long ago that knowing too much often came with a price. Still, the more missions he was sent on, the more it became clear that he was being pulled deeper into the Dark Lord’s circle than he’d ever intended. He knelt beside the unconscious man, cool and efficient as he pulled a few vials from his bag. “I’ve told you everything I was told,” he said, the edge in his voice sharp but not entirely directed at Beck. His fingers pressed against the man’s throat until he felt a faint pulse. “He’s alive.” Beck’s question pulled his gaze sideways. He gestured subtly to the puncture wounds on the man’s wrist. “Poison,” he answered curtly. “This should slow it down, long enough to figure out the rest.” Without another word, he uncorked the vial and carefully tilted it past the man’s lips.
Nick wasn't sure exactly what they were, or what they were doing together. He lived in this weird giddy liminal space where everything seemed possible but he still wasn't sure what he could and couldn't get away with when it came to Sev. He was so fucking happy and yet he was still walking around on eggshells, afraid to break it all.
"Hey," he said as he entered the kitchen, reaching out to run his hand through Sev's hair as he passed. "You work later or nah? Trying to figure out if I should make dinner or just scrounge like a fucking feral raccoon."
Since that night with Nicholas, Severus had felt something shift between them, something unspoken, yet undeniable. Still, beneath the quiet comfort of waking up with Nick beside him was the weight of the war creeping ever closer, and the demands the Dark Lord placed on him.
He didn’t flinch when Nick’s fingers ruffled through his hair, though his response was characteristically understated. “I’m working,” he mumbled, not looking up, though the work would keep him at home today.
At Nick’s feral raccoon comment, Severus’s brow creased slightly, lips twitching in restrained disapproval. “Mind your language,” he said dryly, but not unkindly. As Nick passed, Severus’s fingers brushed against his in a quiet, subtle gesture, small, but deliberate. Something solid in all the uncertainty.
Magical in nature. Flick had been afraid of that. There was only so much she could do if it was some sort of disease or ailment. Her hand tightened into a fist at her side, but she refused to look even half as worried as she felt. He hadn’t turned her away yet. There was something she could do for Anthony.
“A comfort will be better than nothing.” She said, already planning a route from her house to here that didn’t involve too many crowds. “He’s a sweet child, he deserves a chance to experience the world. I’ll pay for whatever you need, I promise. How long will brewing the first batch take?”
Severus noticed the way her posture shifted, the tension in her shoulders, but he didn’t comment on it. He wasn’t one for false reassurances or soft words, he spoke plainly, always.
“He will experience the world,” he said, his tone firm with quiet certainty. “I’ll need three days to brew it.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a scrap of parchment and a pen, quickly jotting down his address. Handing it over, he added, “You can come by then to collect it.”
She could just about kiss him for dropping the subject of Caellum. Lydia wouldn’t, for one thing she was at work and for another Severus was entirely too smart to be the sort of person she usually dated. But she was still grateful all the same.
“Good, everyone should like their jobs. It makes the day go faster.” She paused to pour herself a cup of tea. “Oh, because Marcus — my stepfather — has scared off every single guy I’ve ever brought over to meet him. He’s like, pathological about it I swear. He does it on purpose too, because he thinks I have horrible taste in men and need ‘better standards’ so I ‘stop debasing myself’.” She said as she rolled her eyes. "So obviously I've just stopped bringing them 'round unless they're horrid and I want them gone anyways. No one ever sticks around after he's laid into them."
Severus arched a brow, but there was a faint glint of amusement in his eyes as he sipped his tea. “Sounds like Marcus and I might get along.” His tone was dry, but not unkind. “Though I imagine I’d find his methods… inefficient.”
He set his cup down with a soft clink. “Still, I can’t decide if that’s clever or deeply tragic. Using your stepfather as a filter for the unworthy.” He tilted his head. “Or the inconvenient.” A pause, then a smirk tugged at his mouth. “I suppose it saves time. No point dragging out what he’ll dismantle in under an hour.”
She didn't blink under his scrutiny, but the smile she wore grew crooked, amused. “Oh, Severus,” she drawled, “You wound me. As though I'd waste time peddling unicorn hair to someone with a pulse.”
She moved from behind the desk, past him brushing faintly against his sleeve -- a deliberate choice. Nothing in her shop was accidental. “But let’s humor the question, shall we?” Her tone turned almost clinical. “I have basilisk sinew -- three strands, one of which survived a duel with a cursebreaker. Infamously unstable, but very," there was a beat, "assertive. I also have chimera scale. Extracted under circumstances I won't bore you with, unless you're into screaming.”
Her fingers drummed against the edge of the counter, eyes narrowed in something close to appreciation. She leaned in, the air between them buzzing with unspoken risk. “So tell me. Are you just being dramatic, or are you actually ready to bleed for what you're asking?”
"You never know," he muttered with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder. He wouldn’t have bothered passing judgment, people had a way of surprising him, though he rarely cared enough to be affected by it.
Severus glanced down at his sleeve where she’d brushed against him, an offense in his eyes, then slowly turned toward her. "Is your center of gravity off, or are you always that clumsy?" he asked, voice cool and dry as ever. At the mention of basilisk sinew, his attention sharpened, his head tilting slightly in interest.
"I don’t bleed for anyone," he said flatly. "I’ll take the basilisk sinew." And with that, he saw no reason to say anything more.
Severus’s brow creased deeply, a flicker of disbelief shadowing his features as Nick confessed to dropping things on purpose. “Were you… trying to look at my arse?” he asked, tone dry and incredulous, as though the concept was so absurd he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or confused.
The truth was, Severus had never considered himself someone others looked at that way. He’d loved once, fiercely and foolishly. Lily had been the sun in his otherwise dim world, and he had lost her the moment he’d let the darkness speak louder than his heart. Potter had won, and the rest was history. And yet, even now, the ache lingered, a ghost of something that might have been.
His gaze shifted to the ceiling as his head settled back against the pillow. He didn’t look at Nick when he spoke next, voice quieter, more fragile. “You won’t lose me,” he murmured, the words a promise wrapped in hesitation. He didn’t know what this, they, would become, only that he didn’t want to ruin it. Not like he had before.
Nick adjusted himself so he could see Sev’s face. It was odd to think that Sev wouldn’t consider himself attractive. Nick had found him attractive for so long he hardly knew what to do with himself.
“Trying implies that it didn’t totally work.” He said with a smirk, “I’ll have you know that I successfully spent a lot of time looking at your arse.”
Nick’s face went soft, appreciating the gift Sev had just given him. He moved up just enough to reach Sev’s face and pressed a hesitant, soft kiss to his friend’s cheek. “Good.” He said before moving to kiss Sev’s other cheek as well. “Good.”
He settled back down again, pressing his face into Sev’s neck and just letting himself breathe. It would be okay. They had each other. They’d work the rest out. It would be okay.
Lydia could feel her ears going faintly pink. She knew Caellum's reputation, and she knew her own. It wasn't as if any of this sort of teasing was new to either of them. But it felt different coming from Caellum's friend.
"It's alright, I like his persistence." Her ears went even more pink and she coughed, changing the subject hurriedly. "You like your job though, don't you? I don't think I'm cut out for making potions, but you definitely have the patience for it. Don't worry, poison's not really my thing. If I really wanted you to leave me alone forever, I'd just introduce you to my stepfather."
Severus saw the sudden tint of colour in her ears, primarily rose, but he wasn't inclined to push it. He twisted in his chair and leaned back, looking at her. "I do." At least when he was among people he didn't know well, he was a quiet man. "Why would you do that?" Confusion written in the pinch of his brows.
“Oh, I do love when someone barges in and critiques my reading habits. Such charming manners.” She snapped the book closed with a dusty thump and placed it beneath the counter.
She rose from her chair with the kind of theatrical slowness. “Now,” she said, voice silk-wrapped sarcasm, “if you’ve managed to put your disdain on hold long enough to actually request something, let’s hear it. What rare, inconvenient, possibly illegal wand core are you in the market for today, Master Severus? Basilisk scale? Or -- and do stop me if I’m wrong -- perhaps something absurdly obscure that’ll require a blood pact and a midnight duel to procure?” She leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “Because if it’s unicorn hair, I might scream.”
Severus didn’t flinch at the sarcasm, nor did he rush to respond. Instead, he regarded her coolly, arms folded, as though weighing just how much of her dramatics he was willing to entertain this morning. When he did speak, it was with the slow precision. “Unicorn hair?” he echoed, tone dry and unimpressed. “Please. I have standards.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to match her theatrics with something quieter, darker. “If I wanted something mediocre, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” A faint, knowing smirk ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “And while I’m flattered by the assumption that I’d require some elaborated ritual for a wand core, I assure you, I can be very persuasive without theatrics. You, of all people, should appreciate discretion.”
He arched a brow, gaze steady. “I’m looking for something… with bite. Preferably something that hasn’t been touched by Ministry hands. Do you have it, or should I go back to being insulted by your hospitality?”
“In Cae’s defense, when I first figured it out I started dropping things just to watch you bend over to pick them up.” It had been worth it, even if it was embarrassing to say out loud. He wasn’t sure exactly when Cae had figured him out, but Nick knew he’d been a bit obvious at the start.
Why did he hide it? No point lying now. He’d been in love with this man since he was 15, wanted him since he was 13. They were here now. Sev might as well know. “I didn’t think you liked men. So I thought, y’know, what’s the point? I could say something but I’d lose you. I couldn’t lose you. I can’t. It wasn’t worth the risk.”
Severus’s brow creased deeply, a flicker of disbelief shadowing his features as Nick confessed to dropping things on purpose. “Were you… trying to look at my arse?” he asked, tone dry and incredulous, as though the concept was so absurd he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or confused.
The truth was, Severus had never considered himself someone others looked at that way. He’d loved once, fiercely and foolishly. Lily had been the sun in his otherwise dim world, and he had lost her the moment he’d let the darkness speak louder than his heart. Potter had won, and the rest was history. And yet, even now, the ache lingered, a ghost of something that might have been.
His gaze shifted to the ceiling as his head settled back against the pillow. He didn’t look at Nick when he spoke next, voice quieter, more fragile. “You won’t lose me,” he murmured, the words a promise wrapped in hesitation. He didn’t know what this, they, would become, only that he didn’t want to ruin it. Not like he had before.
“You come recommended.” Felicity said, pulling out the letter from her midwife. The woman was smart but potions weren’t her thing. She had recommended Snape as someone who could likely help. Flick just wanted her son to have some comfort, some relief from whatever it was that made groups of people so horrible.
“Something for anxiety, I think. It’s my son, he’s only two months old but there’s something … he can’t be in a room with more than two or three people. He’ll cry nonstop until it’s just a few of us again. I can’t take him to Mungo’s, I won’t put him through that. Do you think you can help?”
Severus regarded her with his usual calm intensity, eyes briefly scanning the letter before setting it aside with care. “A curious case,” he murmured, voice low. “Two months is young, but not too young to sense what others miss. Sensitivity to crowds, overstimulation, perhaps. Or something deeper. Magical in nature.”
He paused, studying Felicity for a beat longer, as though measuring her resolve. “I can craft something gentle, safe enough for an infant. A calming draught infused with valerian, passionflower, and a touch of chamomile. Nothing that will dull his senses, only ease them. But I’ll need to tailor it. I’ll need to see how he reacts. His magical signature may be more active than most.” A slight tilt of his head. “If you’re willing to return for a follow-up, I believe I can help him. But this will not be a cure. Merely... comfort.”
"He's very persistent." Lydia agreed, very fond. She was starting to like Caellum more than she ought to, more than was advisable for someone she was also sleeping with. Severus didn't need to know this but the point still lingered in Lydia's mind.
"We ended up getting a new cook a few months later, which definitely helped. So you don't need to worry too much about the quality of your food." She assured him. "Well, I'm not entirely displeased to have you here. And I'm glad that I'm better than whatever boring company you're usually stuck with."
Severus let out a low, sardonic hum, his fingers curling around the rim of his glass as he leaned slightly back in his chair. His eyes narrowed faintly in thought. The way Lydia spoke of Caellum didn’t go unnoticed. He knew exactly how the male worked.“Well, persistent does seem to be his theme,” he said dryly, setting the glass down.
There was the ghost of a smirk on his lips, faint, but there. Her last remark made it a little sharper. “Boring company tends to come with the robes,” he said with mild disdain. “Especially those that show up unannounced and want my help. That puts you leagues ahead.” He paused, then added, almost offhandedly, “And you haven’t tried to poison me. Yet.” He mildly teased.
Nick melted a bit further, letting himself relax into the knowledge that this wouldn’t get taken away. He could stay here as long as he wanted and Sev wouldn’t kick him out. What a beautiful, astonishing thought. What a fragile, tenuous thing growing between them.
“In your defense,” Nick said as he leaned into Sev’s touch, “It’s not exactly like I wanted you to. I tried hard to keep it to myself. Caellum figured it out, because he’s an arsehole. May have accidentally let it slip to Estelle while we were dating too. Those are the only two other people who knew.”
Severus let out a low hum, his thumb absently brushing the top of Nic's shoulder, as if grounding them both in the present moment. The fact that Nick was there, they both were, and trying to piece together what it meant for himself, a mix of emotion hitting him.
“Estelle, I can understand,” he murmured dryly. “Caellum, less so. Though I suppose even a broken watch is right twice a day.” A faint, smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t want to prod too much, didn’t want to shatter the fragile peace between them, but his curiosity stirred nonetheless. “Why did you hide it?” His voice was softer now, less guarded. “Was it just about me… or was it you?”
