#snape x reader

[ellamylove]

Hear me out.....Harry Potter and HOTD crossover.....reader who's a Targaryen and has a dragon (either fully grown or just a little baby)

[outsidetherain6070]

Hmm...

I think it's time I finished that half-done Snape x Reader smut I've got sitting in the drafts... 👀

Update: it’s written! Chapter 1 of 4 is here. 18+ only, ob…viously. I would dearly love to hear your feedback. 💋

[bunnygirlreads]

Help me potterheads

okay this is a massive long shot but i’m trying to find a snape x reader fic i read years ago and i cannot find it anywhere 😭

i think it was only 3 parts and it was either on tumblr or possibly wattpad

the reader was a hogwarts graduate and i think she was a ravenclaw and she used to be one of snape’s best students when he taught her potions

it was a slow burn where they didn’t have feelings at first but grew closer because of the situation

i think dumbledore/the order recruited her for a mission where she had to go undercover with the death eaters and stay at malfoy manor

snape didn’t want her to do it because he didn’t want to put her in danger but trusted that she was strong enough

i remember snape teaching her occlumency so voldemort couldn’t get into her mind and he continued helping her while she was at malfoy manor

i specifically remember him teaching her while she was in her room there

narcissa helped dress her in nicer clothes at some point (i think part 2) and lucius was being creepy towards her lol

eventually snape and the reader started falling for each other and i think they both survived and ended up together

i feel like the title started with the word the and maybe had something to do with the order but i’m not 100% sure

i know this is vague but if anyone recognises this please let me know i’ve been trying to find it forever 😭

[vanishedpotions]

truly bonded to you updated

read on wattpad or below cut:3

time skip

last week certainly was a roller coaster with all the emotions I've been getting from Severus, i mean not that i don't mind it- it's just causing irritation in me.

I don't mean to cringe myself but sometimes i genuinely cannot stop falling for him — no like literally i fell down the stairs just from seeing him walk past the hallways. Great way to end up with a bump.

trust me it wasn't soothing.

Now that i got that behind me, i decided to go to The Three Broomsticks with a couple of colleagues after all who doesn't want to spend a Friday evening washing down your thoughts with butterbeer? Cause i sure did.

"Easy on the beer dear we wouldn't want you puking on us all now do we?"  Minerva's voice calms me as wash my face with the cold water in the restroom.

"I just..i don't want to think too much about anything of anyone i just wanted to have fun..you know." my voice echos in the empty bathroom.

Minerva pats my back "tch awh..now now, we didn't say don't drink, just don't go too heavy on it now y/n after all we do have a reputation for Hogwarts as professors after all."

"I guess.."  i responded as i finally leave after cooling off.

"You've been acting weird lately y/n is everything alright?" Minerva's voice cuts of the silence; i turn and frown

"Weird? I'm fine what has been going on?" I question

"Oh..nothing" she waves it off "my old brain just speaks for itself." She dismisses the whole situation before sitting back down.

As i sat down with the others my mind couldn't help but wander to Severus, i mean i wonder what he's doing right now.

After all a dungeon bat is a dungeon bat

"How come professor Snape never leaves the school?" I finally spoke up. Eveyone looked at me and dismissed it before one of them - Professor Flitwick speaks up.

"He's always on about potions and brewing as are much more important then getting drunk to not face reality."

U shrug your shoulders and nod

"Yeah i guess he is kinda right to be honest."

It's got me thinking... "then getting drunk to not face reality."

Have I been denying reality? I mean just weeks ago i was a clumsy professor falling heels for my colleague to being quite distanced..a moment or two flew til it hit me — that's why Minerva asked me if im alright once we left the toilet.

"...y/n?...professor y/n hello can you hear us?.."

"..earth to professor y/l/n"

Snap out of it!

"Huh?"

"Are you sure you're quite alright y/n?" - Minerva announced her brows furrowing

...a beat.. "no..I'm not."

I got up immediately and took my belongings without a question and left The Three BroomSticks.

"I've got to get it off my chest, i have too.."

I tell myself — i mean can you blame me? I can't have all this emotions building up on me till it explodes.

I got to hogwarts and went down to the dungeons where i knew he'd be..it was only 10:12pm so I'm certain he's awake.

I pressed my fist against his office and knocked...

"Severus?"

I breathed before opening the door..

it was empty ..no warmth or the slightest sound of him in here..

"What the hell?! Where could he be?"

I pant to myself — no way did i run all the way here to not see him. At. All.

The Three BroomSticks door opens with a ching of a bell as a figure walks in.

"Ah Severus you made it!" dumbledores voices echos with delight.

[nikolaos-drowned]

INTO THE PALE MOONLIGHT

Severus T. Snape x male reader.

Content Warnings: VANILLA ASF. The dove is alive and kicking. Body worship and overstim if u squint, kneeling, praise, r wants that man so bad. Implied aftercare.

Lazy asf bc it was written to get myself out of writers block so probably ooc. I PROMISE ILL GET TO UR REQS SOON

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!!

The kitchen of Spinners End was--and had always had been--an ugly, cramped space, just like the rest of the household. Mold sprouting on the corners of the walls, the physical manifestation of the bitter memories that plagued the rest of the property.

You had been visiting since you and Severus had gotten together in sixth year, and had only just recently moved in. Tobias and Eileen moved out because of the war, leaving Severus to inherit the property just in time for his graduation.

For two years now you had been sharing the property through the thicks of the war. Only recently had Severus's duties as a double agent--and your own duties as a member of the Order--dulled down a bit.

Which had led to you sneaking around similarly to how you used to do. Kissing in stolen moments, dates in town, sucking him off as he writes owls to god-knows-who.

It was roughly 9:23PM. You were standing between his legs, kissing him oh so softly, as he sat on the kitchen table. He was just so pretty like this, head tilting slightly up to meet your eyes. His lips met yours, his hands at your robes holding slightly. Your own hands were on his waist, touring. Neither of you seemed to notice, nor care, that they were inching lower towards his dick.

He made a sweet sound into your mouth,, and you could’ve sworn you were about to cream your pants then and there. You broke apart, both of you panting slightly. Your hands briefly touched his v-line and you could feel him pause for a second, but instead of doing his usual gesture of pulling slightly back to make your hands move to another part of his beautiful body, he leaned slightly into it.

“This okay?” You’d said. He nodded mutely, and you’d followed it up. “Words, love."

“…’s adequate,” he replied. To that, your hands travelled further, and you could’ve sworn he whined—whined, actually whined! He inched slightly closer, to get your hands to touch the spot he actually needed you because he was so jawdroppingly hard. You moved your hands under his trousers, inching closer to his cock till you touched the base.

“Does that feel good, Sev?” Were the next words to come out your mouth, not breaking your gaze from his pretty cock. He nodded, to which your hand halted its strokes. You’d reminded him so many times to use that pretty mouth of his. Honestly.

He paused. His head, which had been resting against your shoulder, came up as he glared at you and for a moment you could’ve sworn he was about to talk back. You knew he was never one for talking, and you'd been trying to break the habit. That is before his eyes darted downwards to your hand, as if calculating the options. “Keep going,” he said, as though he'd requested something completely unbelievable and not something you had done a hundred times.

“Are you in any place to be making commands right now, love?” You responded with a small laugh, even whilst obeying. Your hand moved again, jerking the boy off, thumb on his slit.

To that, his forehead went to rest against your shoulder once again, muffling his high pitched sounds that you so desperately wanted to hear. You kept going, pace gaining some more consistence and confidence, clearly more than enough by the look of him—well, at least what you could see of him. His forehead was pressed into your shoulder and he was making these pretty gasping noises with each stroke, each slight touch. His lips were pressed together, as if holding himself back. The moonlight striking his hair just right, giving you such a good view.

“So gorgeous, Severus,” you had said. He was so uncharacteristically quiet too. You wanted to stay here forever, his pretty pale cock in your hand, his face in your shoulder. Though, if you were going to spend eternity doing this, hopefully you could get used to it, because it was taking everything in you to keep a (somewhat) consistent pace. He was just so pretty.

But when his poor, already spent cock stuttered, shooting white cum into ur hand as his mouth let out the most gorgeous whimper, followed by an almost humiliated gasp? You were done for. You could’ve sworn you saw heaven, that you died, that this pretty thing sitting at your mercy was simply an angel. Your pace stuttered, throat letting out a moan. In short, you creamed your pants.

If this was in fact heaven, you wanted to die a hundred times to see that magnificent look on his face for the first. You needed more desperately, and, by the look of your angel’s cock, so did he.

“More?” You asked, trying not to let the hope jump into your tone.

“Please,” he replied, with an exhale.

Fuck yeah. Slipping off his trousers and boxers (which were now somewhat stained with his release), you spoke. “Can you lay down for me, love?”

“On the table?”

“Yes."

His ears turned a light shade of pink, but he complied nonetheless, lying back against the wood. He was so perfectly laid out, shirt riding up slightly to show off his waist, squirming almost, and his legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were closed tightly, hands in fists.

“So pretty, Sevs. You’re okay?”

To that, his eyes opened slightly and he nodded before seeming to remember to speak up. “Yes,” he replied. Wasting no time, you kneeled at the edge of the table just between his legs.

Looking up at him with dilated pupils, you began kissing upwards--starting at his knee and inching up his inner thigh, where you sucked a scattered trail of hickeys. Hearing him let out a soft whimper, you gently pull back, eyes looking upwards before fixating on his half-hard cock.

You smoothly take him in your mouth. His hands claw at the edge of the table as he whines, shifting into your mouth till his cock hits the back of your throat—almost making you gag. Your own free hand goes to his hip, pulling him up slightly. Not just to prolong the experience, but, to put it bluntly, make sure you don’t choke.

Just as he’s about to come once more, you pull off of him entirely. He sits up almost instantly, and throws a nasty glare down at you.

“Patience, Sev, patience,” you say, thumb caressing his thigh.

“I’ve had blubbering patience, [name]—“

To that, you let out a chuckle. “Exaggerating a bit there, love.”

His eyes roll to that, about to snark out a reply, but you continue. “Now, do you want me to get back to it?”

He huffs lightly, out of what you bet is exasperation and, rather ironically, impatience. Despite this, he nods, and you take him in once again. Licking his pretty slit before, of course, hands trailing over the path of hickeys you’d laid out prior.

Bobbing your head, you know he simply won’t last long. You look up, making eye contact, and to that, he closes his own eyes. Letting out the prettiest noise before releasing.

You take the taste in before swallowing and, after that, pulling off his now soft cock. You both stay like that for a moment, panting, before you speak. “D’you wanna get some dinner now? And clean up? Must’ve worn you out.”

[vrtualnecromancer]

UGHH I LOVE UR FRIENDSHIP HCS W SEVERUS >< I WAS HOPING U CAN DO FRIENDS TO LOVER HCS W HIM?? IF ITS OK W U ^^

Friends to Lovers HCs

𖤐 YA!Severus Snape x F!Reader

𖤐 SFW. Light angst + fluff. Insecurity. Resolved pining.

𖤐 1.8k WC

𖤐 A/N: I am so very sorry that this has taken over a month. I have no excuse ... unless you accept the summer homework one. Anyhow, thank you for the enthusiastic request, which I, of course, completed with joy and some stress (much harder to write heterosexual romance as a lesbian than I anticipated), but the post has been delivered nonetheless. Much longer than I initially intended! Forewarning, this is more buildup than it is actual romance, but I will create a third part, hopefully soon, focusing more on the lovers element. I say third because this post is more of a second part to my previous HCs than a standalone. Also, I am completely ignoring Lily's death and his allegiance to Voldemort. It was accidental, but I'm not going to make this post any longer by exploring either of those details right now. Enjoy and request away.

Assuming that your friendship with Severus has lasted into adulthood, it hasn't undergone any major changes in the past few years.

Well, perhaps undertaking the roles of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House might mess with it a bit. You've both barely graduated, and he's already returning. Without you, no less!

Severus has gone most of his life thinking that it cannot get any worse, just to be proven wrong each time, but now? He feels properly punished. He teaches students who know him as Snivellus and watched him suffer cruel "pranks." He is humiliated for hours on a daily basis, disrespected, has not a single person to whom he can turn. Dumbledore? Please, he's the reason Severus is in this mess. McGonagall? Not nearly close enough.

He turns to what has been his only source of comfort for the past few years—you.

At first, the letters are few and far between. The last things he wants is to look desperate or, god forbid, like he misses you too much.

Because of his demanding occupation, Severus feels more like an adult than he really is. He's ashamed and downright embarrassed when he does or feels anything that reminds him of how he behaved towards you when you were students. It's only been four years, and although he has somewhat changed and reflected on past behaviors, he's much harsher on and expects more from himself.

To some extent, he has grown out of shadowing you and obsessing over you. Still, old habits die hard, and he finds himself drafting future letters he'll owl you before you've even replied to the one he's most recently sent. The fact of the matter is that he does miss you, and he doesn't know what to do about it. He feels deep shame about this, like his teenage years are still in control of him.

Worse, Severus feels as though his father is doing the same from beyond the grave. He's already displayed some of the latter's heinous traits—intense, unfounded jealousy; possessiveness; and breaches of your privacy. He's frightened of what he could become and what else he could do to you. He wishes you no harm, but I wouldn't be surprised if, at first, he's relieved by the distance between the two of you. It gives him a chance to regroup and you, he assumes, to decompress from him.

Severus has a new reputation that he needs to cultivate and maintain—the severe (ha!) and unshakable Professor Snape. He is not letting himself be caught writing so many letters to one person, and he would rather die than expose any of their contents. A captain goes down with his ship as he will go down with his letters.

He's generally patient during the time period between his sending of a letter and your writing back. That only applies if you take the median amount of time that he's picked up on to reply. Otherwise, he'll be concerned.

What does concern him most often, however, is the idea that you've made a new best friend while he's been away. This insecurity permeates his thoughts and disrupts his sleep more than he is willing to admit to himself. He may subtly throw in a question or hint at his suspicion to see if it's true. You know him well enough to pick up what he's putting down. Subtle reassurance is key. He'll feel humiliated and shut down if the subtlety turns explicit.

He's never really happy, but your replies do make Severus's days better. He looks forward to them, as any friend would, and that anticipation is often times the only thing getting him through the week. He hates his job, is resentful of his life, and wishes to spend his days with you instead.

Severus has never had romantic feelings for anyone. The closest he's ever gotten has been with Lily, but it was more of a deep codependency than a crush. He thinks that his love and devotion for you have grown due to the unprecedented separation. There is no logical reason to assume otherwise.

His budding feelings for you remain stagnant so long as he's not seeing you in person. He's forgotten the sound of your voice, and your face is blurring, which distresses him. He feels as though he's betraying you despite this being a natural human response.

Severus hates surprises. He appreciates the notice when you mention visiting him for the holidays, but the appreciation rapidly dissolves into panic. Visit him? He hasn't seen you in three months, and now he has to force himself to act like he hasn't been desperately missing you? It seems like an impossible feat yet one he must nonetheless prepare for and complete.

His biggest downfall in relationships is his insecurity. Your reassurances wash over him like cold water and leave him shivering in their wake, meaningless now. Everything you have written up to this point is meaningless. Severus feels like he's in sixth year again—back at square one.

He's anxious up until the day you finally arrive. A feeling akin to awe washes over him when he sees you. Awe and ... is that an acceleration in his heart rate? His breath gets stuck in his chest, but he quickly forces it up. He's just missed you, is all.

He doesn't embrace you unless you initiate. If you try something like that publicly, he'll gently push you back and reassure that, once you're alone, you may hold him to your heart's content. Assuming that you do initiate, and you are sensible enough to do so privately, he'll secretly feel elated. Besides Lily and his mother—when he was much younger—you are the only other person he's ever hugged. It doesn't happen often, so he feels all the more relieved to have you back.

Severus has never been a fan of eating in the Great Hall; it's boisterous and crowded, less during the holidays but still unpleasant. He abandons meals there to eat with you privately in his chamber. It's an excuse to be alone with you as much as it is a chance to dissect the odd intrigue that has settled over him in your company recently. He hasn't felt such a thing since you were students, but even then, it didn't feel as warm as it does now. It makes him anxious all over again.

If you notice, he won't fess up. The feeling is private until further investigation has been conducted. If it turns out to mean something bad, he'll never tell you. Anything concerning you about which he feels negatively doesn't leave his mouth. He's horrid at communication, stemming from the fear that you'll leave him for being too picky or hypercritical.

The warm, fluttery feeling remains locked down tight and contained to his stomach, chest, and anywhere else he experiences the sensation. With the feeling comes more attentiveness to your eyes, your habits, your movements, your way of life—everything about you. He's paid attention you before, sure, especially when you were first getting to know each other and for a long time after that, but it's never been such intense devotion, just irrational fear. It scares him. He wonders if the obsession is returning, or worse, had merely been lying dormant.

For the rest of your visit, he avoids you and is more terse in his speech. It's not something unusual, per se, but it's as though it's intensified. Severus's goal is to extinguish the unfamiliar emotions he feels towards you, but being away from you just makes it worse. He spends Christmas with you exchanging small but meaningful gifts, then the New Year. He loathes loud noise and alcohol. The New Year is one of his least favorite holidays; not even you can make it better this time.

He eats regret for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It hits Severus instantaneously and fiercely when he sees you go. It's an epiphany, what the feeling has been all along, accompanied by a heat spreading throughout his body. He won't see you for another five months, and he's wasted the two weeks he had with you. He has honestly never hated himself more than in this moment. He likes you—properly likes you—and he'd been too dense to see it.

He acts as though everything is normal, like he hasn't had a life altering realization and a crashing wave of emotions beneath which he's drowning. He doesn't tell you through a letter, can't imagine waiting a week for a response to something like that. The stress would make his heart give out prematurely. So, Severus grits his teeth, swallows his feelings, and works through the gut-wrenching next few months, all while exchanging more letters with you. They drive him mad.

Once his summer holiday begins, he gives it a few days to mull over what he's going to say to you. He wants to rush it, wants to tell you what he's been keeping from you, but he's afraid of your rejection. If you say no, it'll ruin your friendship—his only friendship. He loves you, and Severus would rather die with his feelings untold than bare himself to you and ruin everything. Perhaps he's not as evolved as he thought. Days turn into weeks.

Your concern is palpable. He's not sending letters nor replying to yours. Surely, nothing life threatening has happened to him ... you hope. For someone who's never missed a letter exchange, it's enough for you to go to Cokeworth to see him. You grill him; you don't let him go until he confesses what has been bothering him for so long. You haven't been this worried about him in a while that it feels a little unnatural.

You have to kiss him first. Under no circumstances is he making the first move. It was stressful enough getting the words out—you didn't know Severus Snape could stutter so much—that he's had enough of this now. He can live his life just fine with the fact that he destroyed the best thing that's ever happened to him (lie) and that he can't be in a romantic relationship with you (bigger lie).

The kiss is surprising to both of you. Him because, well, duh, and you because you almost didn't kiss him. You almost rejected him. Your own feelings are a mess, had been a mess for the longest time, and now that the opportunity is right here, dangling in front of you, it's too good to be true, too good to pursue. You don't want to ruin this either, probably to the same degree as he.

Too bad that the kiss is really good, like, stupidly good. It's rushed, messy—both of you in a frenzy of pouring out your feelings—but simultaneously rhythmic. You've been on the same wavelength for years now that it's not too surprising to find yourselves matching in pace. The kiss tapers off and ends. It's quiet, but there is a concurrent decision between the two of you. This will happen again.

Thank you for reading :]

[vanishedpotions]

Truly bonded to you

Read on wattpad or below cut:3

time skip

last week certainly was a roller coaster with all the emotions I've been getting from Severus, i mean not that i don't mind it- it's just causing irritation in me.

I don't mean to cringe myself but sometimes i genuinely cannot stop falling for him — no like literally i fell down the stairs just from seeing him walk past the hallways. Great way to end up with a bump.

trust me it was soothing.

Now that i got that behind me, i decided to go to The Three Broomsticks with a couple of colleagues after all who doesn't want to spend a Friday evening washing down your thoughts with butterbeer? Cause i sure did.

"Easy on the beer dear we wouldn't want you puking on us all now do we?" Minerva's voice calms me as wash my face with the cold water in the restroom.

"I just..i don't want to think too much about anything of anyone i just wanted to have fun..you know." my voice echos in the empty bathroom.

Minerva pats my back "tch awh..now now, we didn't say don't drink, just don't go too heavy on it now y/n after all we do have a reputation for Hogwarts as professors after all."

"I guess.." i responded as i finally leave after cooling off.

"You've been acting weird lately y/n is everything alright?" Minerva's voice cuts of the silence; i turn and frown

"Weird? I'm fine what has been going on?" I question

"Oh..nothing" she waves it off "my old brain just speaks for itself." She dismisses the whole situation before sitting back down.

As i sat down with the others my mind couldn't help but wander to Severus, i mean i wonder what he's doing right now.

After all a dungeon bat is a dungeon bat

"How come professor Snape never leaves the school?" I finally spoke up. Eveyone looked at me and dismissed it before one of them - Professor Flitwick speaks up.

"He's always on about potions and brewing as are much more important then getting drunk to not face reality."

U shrug your shoulders and nod

"Yeah i guess he is kinda right to be honest."

It's got me thinking... "then getting drunk to not face reality."

Have I been denying reality? I mean just weeks ago i was a clumsy professor falling heels for my colleague to being quite distanced..a moment or two flew til it hit me — that's why Minerva asked me if im alright once we left the toilet.

"...y/n?...professor y/n hello can you hear us?.."

"..earth to professor y/l/n"

Snap out of it!

"Huh?"

"Are you sure you're quite alright y/n?" - Minerva announced her brows furrowing

...a beat.. "no..I'm not."

I got up immediately and took my belongings without a question and left The Three BroomSticks.

"I've got to get it off my chest, i have too.."

I tell myself — i mean can you blame me? I can't have all this emotions building up on me till it explodes.

I got to hogwarts and went down to the dungeons where i knew he'd be..it was only 10:12pm so I'm certain he's awake.

I pressed my fist against his office and knocked...

"Severus?"

I breathed before opening the door..

it was empty ..no warmth or the slightest sound of him in here..

"What the hell?! Where could he be?"

I pant to myself — no way did i run all the way here to not see him. At. All.

The Three BroomSticks door opens with a ching of a bell as a figure walks in.

"Ah Severus you made it!" dumbledores voices echos with delight.

yall this is my first update in a month🤯🤯🤯🤯.

[vanishedpotions]

Truly bonded to you

read on wattpad or below cut ྀིྀི

•first post in here only to promote my fanfic that i haven’t uploaded 3 years ago til since last year so apologies for the bad grammar and fiction wise imagination.

holidays went by fast i thought as i get on the platform back to hogwarts, christmas was celebrated so was new years aahh..I've had quite the holidays. a warm smile creeps my face.

i finally put my stuff on top of my seat and sat down, a huff escaped me as i rest my head and stared out the window looking at the stunning view in-front of me.

Summer had been kind.

For the first time in years, she had allowed herself to leave Scotland entirely—had taken a modest cottage near the coast of Cornwall where the sea air tangled in her hair and the mornings arrived slowly, wrapped in gold and salt. She had walked barefoot across cold sand, read novels she had abandoned in her youth, and written letters she never sent.

She had told herself she needed the quiet.

She had not admitted—to herself, or anyone else—that distance might soften the shape of a particular memory.

It had not.

Hogwarts rose from the landscape now like something summoned rather than built, its towers piercing a sky still brushed with late-August warmth. The windows caught the sinking sun and threw it back in glints of amber. Boats were already gathering near the far shore, the first-years chattering in tremulous excitement.

Home.

She exhaled slowly as the carriage slowed to a stop in the courtyard. The doors opened. The scent of old stone and approaching autumn met her like an embrace she had not realized she missed.

Staff members filtered in through the great oak doors—Professor Flitwick animated as ever, Professor Sprout brushing soil from her sleeves, and Professor McGonagall upright and composed, her sharp eyes scanning the arrivals with quiet approval.

Y/N stepped down, smoothing her robes. She had always taken care with her appearance at the start of term. It was, she believed, a subtle promise: that learning could be beautiful.

And yet beneath the familiar rhythm of return—trunks floating overhead, owls streaking across the dusk—her pulse betrayed her.

He would be here.

He never left long. Even during holidays, it was whispered that he preferred the solitude of the dungeons to any brighter company. She had once teased him about it in passing.

"You avoid sunlight as though it has personally offended you," she had said.

"It has," he replied dryly. "It reveals far too much."

She smiled at the memory despite herself.

Inside the Entrance Hall, torches flickered to life. The marble staircase gleamed faintly. Her footsteps echoed, measured and calm, though her thoughts were anything but.

The Great Hall had not yet filled with students; the Sorting would not begin until tomorrow. Tonight was reserved for staff—planning, schedules, the quiet reshuffling of another academic year.

She had almost convinced herself she would not see him until morning.

She was wrong.

The door to the staff room opened just as she approached, and he emerged as though conjured by her anticipation.

Severus Snape paused when he saw her.

It was the smallest hesitation. Barely perceptible. But she noticed.

His black robes fell in precise lines, immaculate as ever. His dark eyes flicked over her—assessing, unreadable—and for a fleeting moment something softer moved behind them. Something not meant for public view.

"Professor," he inclined his head slightly.

"Severus," she replied, her voice measured, warm but not intimate.

The corridor felt suddenly narrower.

"You have returned," he said, as though the possibility had been uncertain.

"I do believe that is customary at the end of summer," she answered lightly.

His mouth twitched. It might have been the ghost of a smirk.

"You enjoyed your holiday?"

There it was. A question that sounded perfunctory, but she knew better. He did not ask questions without purpose.

"I did," she said. "The sea is... restorative."

"Hmm." His gaze lingered for half a breath too long. "I imagine it would be."

Silence stretched—not uncomfortable, but charged with the weight of things neither would articulate.

He stepped aside, allowing her to pass into the staff room first. A small courtesy. Unnecessary. Noted.

Inside, the long table was already strewn with parchment and timetables. Professor McGonagall was discussing curriculum adjustments. A low hum of professional conversation filled the air.

Y/N took her usual seat.

She felt him settle beside her.

He always chose that seat.

It had begun by accident, years ago—an empty chair, a shared glance over some particularly absurd Ministry directive. It had become habit. Then expectation. Now it was something else entirely.

Their shoulders nearly brushed.

She could sense his presence as distinctly as if it were a spell humming at her side. The faint scent of crushed herbs and old books. The controlled stillness he wore like armor.

When Professor McGonagall addressed the room regarding inter-house collaboration, Y/N offered thoughtful suggestions. Snape countered with precise refinements. Their exchanges were seamless, almost rehearsed.

They did not look at one another while speaking.

They did not need to.

After the meeting dispersed, parchment gathered and candles dimmed, Y/N lingered under the pretense of reorganizing her notes. She heard the others depart one by one.

Footsteps remained behind her.

"You've rearranged your classroom," Snape observed.

She did not turn immediately. "I felt a change was necessary."

"You rarely indulge in unnecessary change."

"Perhaps I am learning."

She faced him then. The staff room was nearly empty, shadows pooling along the edges of the walls. Only a few candles remained lit, casting unsteady gold across his sharp features.

"Learning what?" he asked.

"That routine," she said softly, "is not always synonymous with safety."

His gaze sharpened.

"Safety," he repeated, as though testing the word.

"You prefer it."

"And you do not?"

"I prefer honesty."

The air shifted.

For a moment she wondered if she had gone too far. If the careful balance they maintained—this quiet orbit—had tilted.

But his expression did not harden. Instead, something almost vulnerable passed through it before he masked it once more.

"Honesty," he said evenly, "is frequently overrated."

"Only by those who fear its consequences."

A beat.

His voice lowered, no longer the cutting tone he reserved for students. "And you believe I fear consequences?"

She held his gaze. "I believe you fear... exposure."

The silence that followed was not empty.

It was full of unsaid things.

He stepped closer—not enough to breach propriety, but enough that the space between them felt deliberate.

"You mistake caution for fear," he said quietly.

"Do I?"

Their proximity was dangerous in its subtlety. Anyone walking in would see two colleagues engaged in earnest debate. Nothing more.

But beneath that veneer, something electric trembled.

A flicker of memory rose in her mind: late evenings spent grading essays side by side in companionable quiet; the rare dry remark that coaxed a genuine laugh from him; the way he had once, almost absentmindedly, corrected a smudge of ink on her wrist with the gentlest brush of his thumb.

Neither had acknowledged it.

Neither had forgotten.

A sound in the corridor broke the moment.

He stepped back instantly, distance restored as though it had never been breached.

"Term begins tomorrow," he said, composure seamless. "You should rest."

She almost smiled at the irony.

"And you?"

"I have preparations."

Of course he did.

She gathered her parchments. "Goodnight, Severus."

His eyes met hers one final time.

"Goodnight."

—

The castle shifted overnight.

By morning, the halls were alive with the rustle of robes and nervous anticipation. First-years stared at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as though it were the sky itself reborn. Older students reunited in loud clusters.

Y/N moved through it all with practiced grace.

Teaching grounded her. The structure of lessons, the spark in a student's eye when comprehension dawned—it was a rhythm she trusted.

And yet she found her awareness drawn, again and again, toward the dungeon corridor.

At lunch, she arrived in the Great Hall to find her usual seat unoccupied.

She told herself it did not matter.

He arrived moments later.

Their eyes met across the length of the staff table. A silent acknowledgment. A current passing invisibly between them.

When he took his seat, their sleeves brushed.

Accidental.

Entirely accidental.

She felt it anyway.

"Your third-years," he murmured without looking at her, "have already managed to ignite a tapestry."

She suppressed a smile. "Innovation should be encouraged."

"Arson is not innovation."

"Agree to disagree."

A faint huff escaped him—almost laughter.

Around them, conversation carried on. No one paid particular attention to the quiet exchange at the far end of the table.

But Professor McGonagall's eyes flicked toward them once, thoughtful.

—

That evening, rain lashed against the castle windows. The corridors emptied early; even the most restless students retreated to their common rooms.

Y/N remained in her classroom longer than necessary.

Old habits.

When a soft knock sounded at the door, she knew who it would be.

"Enter."

He stepped inside, damp at the hem of his robes from the storm.

"You left this," he said, holding out a slim book.

Her heart skipped.

It was the novel she had taken to Cornwall. The one she had meant to keep private.

"You found it in the staff room," she said carefully.

"I did."

He did not move to leave.

"Did you read it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

A pause.

"Yes."

Heat crept into her cheeks. "It was not assigned reading."

"I am aware."

"And?"

His gaze lifted to hers. "It was... unexpectedly hopeful."

She studied him. "You sound almost surprised."

"I was."

Thunder rolled outside, low and distant.

"Hope," she said quietly, "is not weakness."

"I never claimed it was."

"No," she conceded. "You merely distrust it."

Another stretch of silence—but softer now.

"You believe," he said at last, "that one should act upon every... inclination."

Her breath caught.

"I believe," she replied carefully, "that denying them does not make them disappear."

The candlelight flickered between them.

He stepped closer again—close enough that she could see the fine tension along his jaw, the restraint he wore like a second skin.

"And if acting upon them," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "invites complications neither party can afford?"

Her pulse thundered louder than the storm.

"Then," she said steadily, "perhaps the question becomes whether avoidance is truly less complicated."

They stood there—two professors, rational and composed—balanced on the edge of something fragile and undeniable.

He reached out.

Not to touch her.

But to set the book gently on her desk between them.

A barrier. Or a bridge.

"I will see you at breakfast," he said, retreating once more into propriety.

And then he was gone.

—

Autumn settled fully over Hogwarts in the weeks that followed. Leaves turned copper and gold. The lake darkened. The castle breathed in its familiar patterns.

They resumed their quiet orbit.

Shared glances across the Great Hall. Low-voiced debates in staff meetings. Occasional walks along the battlements under the guise of discussing curriculum revisions.

Nothing overt.

Nothing spoken.

But something undeniable.

One evening, as the sun sank behind the Forbidden Forest, they stood side by side along the stone parapet.

Students' laughter drifted faintly from below.

"You considered not returning this year," he said suddenly.

It was not a question.

She looked at him, startled. "How did you know?"

"You hesitated in your correspondence."

Of course he had noticed.

"I needed distance," she admitted.

"And did you find it?"

She met his eyes.

"No."

A long pause.

"Nor did I," he said quietly.

The admission settled between them like a fragile truth.

Wind tugged at her hair. His robes stirred beside her.

They did not reach for one another.

They did not need to.

For now, it was enough to stand there—two guarded souls who had found, against their better judgment, something steady in the other's presence.

Unspoken.

Unclaimed.

But entirely real.

Ok so this what my 13 old brain thought up a year ago. still trying to understand how to make it seem more than understandable then how it would sound in our heads. >_<