The dungeon corridors were empty this late at night, save for the flickering torchlight casting long, eerie shadows along the stone walls. Y/N L/N had spent the past seven years navigating these halls, but tonight, they felt different—dangerous, forbidden, intoxicating.
Much like the man she was walking towards.
Professor Snape’s office door was slightly ajar, a sure sign he was expecting her. She hesitated only for a moment before stepping inside, the scent of sandalwood, burnt herbs, and old parchment washing over her. He stood near his desk, long fingers curled around a goblet of something dark. His black robes, ever foreboding, seemed to merge with the very shadows of the room.
“You’re late,” he said, voice low and smooth.
“I had to be careful,” Y/N replied, closing the door behind her. “Filch is getting suspicious.”
He scoffed, taking a slow sip from his goblet before setting it down. “Filch is an imbecile. It’s not him you should be worried about.” His dark eyes flickered toward her, sharp, assessing. “If the Carrows catch wind of this—”
“They won’t.”
Y/N moved closer, stopping just shy of him, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent years admiring him, caught between fascination and something far more dangerous. But it wasn’t until the war had sunk its claws into Hogwarts that they had truly begun this—whatever this was.
A silent understanding. A shared darkness. A forbidden pull.
Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I needed to see you.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s precisely the problem, Miss L/N.”
Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, though she knew better than to show it. Instead, she took another step forward, close enough now that she could see the way the dim candlelight played across his pale skin, the tension lining his features.
“I know what you’re doing,” she whispered. “What you’re risking.”
His gaze snapped to hers, unreadable but intense. “And?”
“And I don’t care.” She hesitated, then let the truth slip from her lips like a spell she could never take back. “I—”
Before she could finish, Snape moved, swift as a gust of wind, his hand curling around her wrist—not painfully, but enough to make her breath hitch.
“Don’t,” he warned, voice raw. “Don’t say it.”
Y/N swallowed hard. “Why not?”
“Because there is no place for foolish emotions in war.”
But there was something in his expression—something breaking, something unraveling. And Y/N wasn’t sure who moved first, only that one moment there was distance, and the next, she was pressed against his desk, his lips barely a breath from hers.
“This is madness,” he muttered, his breath warm against her skin.
“I know.”
His fingers ghosted over her cheek, hesitant, as if torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. The world outside was crumbling, Hogwarts itself a battlefield waiting to ignite. But here, in the silence of the dungeons, there was only this.
Only them.
And when he finally gave in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that tasted of desperation and something dangerously close to devotion, Y/N knew there was no turning back.