where the shadows fall

September 15th, 1975

The clock on her bedside table read 6:59 AM when her eyes snapped open, her internal alarm never failing her. The dungeons were still cloaked in an oppressive chill, faint condensation gathering on the edges of the stone walls. The faint, rhythmic dripping of water somewhere far off was the only sound accompanying her as she swung her legs out of bed and planted them firmly on the cold floor.

By 7:30, Severina was seated at the far end of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She was hunched over it slightly, fingers curled possessively around the mug as if someone might dare to take it from her. Her expression made it clear: Severina Snape was not someone you spoke to before she’d had at least two sips of coffee.

The enchanted ceiling above reflected the pale blue of the early morning sky, streaked with faint traces of sunrise. Golden light was just beginning to trickle in through the high windows, casting a sleepy glow over the sparse collection of students already seated for breakfast.

On her plate sat a neat arrangement of sliced fruit—mostly apples and pears—which she picked at absentmindedly while her other hand held a well-worn book open in front of her. Beside the book lay a half-finished letter in her spidery, precise handwriting, the ink still glistening wet in places.

“Morning, Severina!”

She glanced up to see her younger sister, Isabelle, approaching with a cheery expression that should have been illegal this early in the day. The Ravenclaw blue of her robes was crisp and clean, her hair neatly braided down her back.

“You’re far too awake for this hour,” Severina muttered into her coffee mug as Isabelle slid onto the bench beside her.

“Some of us don’t need coffee to function,” Isabelle replied smartly, plucking a slice of pear from Severina’s plate with a sly grin.

Severina rolled her eyes, but the faintest twitch of a smile played at the corner of her lips. “How was your first night back?”

“It was fine,” Isabelle said, her voice lowering slightly as if sharing a secret. “One of the other girls snore. Like, really snore.”

Severina smirked into her coffee. “Welcome to shared dormitories.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before the Great Hall began to fill with more students. Charity Burbage swept in, golden hair perfectly arranged and her Hufflepuff robes neatly pressed. With a bright smile, she waved before making her way over to the Slytherin table and plopping herself onto the bench across from Severina without hesitation.

“Good morning!” Charity said cheerily, pouring herself some tea. “You two are up disgustingly early.”

“Some of us are creatures of habit,” Severina replied dryly, her fingers curling tighter around her coffee mug.

Aurora Sinistra joined them not long after, clutching her Astronomy textbook to her chest and looking faintly lost in thought as she carefully lowered herself onto the bench beside Charity. Her dark braids fell over her shoulders as she set her book down and glanced at the others with a small smile.

“Morning, Aurora,” Isabelle greeted her sweetly before spotting some Ravenclaw first-years and excusing herself.

Severina gave her sister a brief nod before turning her attention back to her friends. Charity had launched into a cheerful story about one of her summer adventures, her hands gesturing animatedly, while Aurora listened with her usual quiet attentiveness, occasionally chiming in with a thoughtful comment.

Lily Evans arrived a few minutes later, her bright red hair catching the light from the enchanted ceiling as she approached with a tired but playful smile. “You lot look very cozy over here. Mind if I join?”

“Of course not,” Charity said brightly, scooting aside to make room for her.

Lily sat down, dropping a stack of books unceremoniously onto the table. “Who needs this many textbooks for one day? Honestly.”

Their conversation settled into easy chatter—Severina mostly listened while the others talked, occasionally adding her own sharp remarks when prompted. It wasn’t until Remus Lupin appeared at the edge of their table that the conversation faltered slightly.

“Lily,” he said politely, his voice a little softer than usual as he addressed Lily directly. “Have you seen my Transfiguration homework? I think I left it in the library last night, but I can’t seem to find them.”

Lily frowned, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. “I don’t think I’ve seen them, Remus. Did you check the common room?”

“I did.” His gaze flickered briefly to Severina, and his expression shifted slightly—half awkward, half resigned. “Morning, Snape.”

Severina arched an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of her coffee before replying, “Lupin.”

The interaction was clipped but civil, the kind of exchange that existed in the liminal space between dislike and mild tolerance.

Charity and Aurora exchanged a glance, though neither said anything. Lily cleared her throat. “If I see them, I’ll let you know, Remus.”

“Thanks, Lily,” he said with a small, tired smile before giving the group an awkward nod and turning away, heading back towards the Gryffindor table.

“Well, that was… brief,” Charity said lightly once he was out of earshot.

“Better than usual,” Severina said under her breath, earning a smirk from Lily.

Their conversation picked up again after that, but the morning buzz of the Great Hall was growing louder as more students arrived. When Professor Slughorn began making his way down the Slytherin table with a stack of timetables, Severina grabbed hers and scanned it quickly, mentally mapping out her day.

“I’ll see you lot later,” she said, rising from her seat and gathering her things. “Time to prepare for another exciting year of academic drudgery.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, Severina,” Charity called after her with a grin.

Severina didn’t bother with a reply, her footsteps already echoing as she disappeared out of the Great Hall and into the shadowed corridors of Hogwarts.

—————

The room slowly quieted as Professor Slughorn swept in, his usual jovial expression fixed on his face. He motioned for everyone to settle, and as usual, Severina found her eyes instinctively scanning the room for her usual seating. The classroom had several familiar faces, though the number had thinned out this year. Bruce Mulciber Jr. was across the room, Evan Rosier was a few seats down, and Charity Burbage was further along.

Severina’s gaze flickered over to the classroom’s stone walls, lined with tall shelves that held various jars of ingredients, some glowing faintly in the dim light. The smell of brewing potions hung in the air—earthy, sharp, and familiar—reminding her of her childhood in Cokeworth, where the smell of chemicals in the air often mixed with the scent of dust and old books.

Her fingers absently smoothed down the front of her robes, a small unconscious motion, as she took in the warm glow of the fire crackling in the corner, the soft hiss of steam rising from the cauldrons that bubbled in every corner of the room. It was a place that demanded precision, focus, and order.

She sat down at her usual seat near the front, her sharp eyes skimming over the desk before her.

It was nearly spotless—neatly arranged with her equipment, a perfectly folded cloth beside her cauldron, and a carefully placed vial of powdered moonstone. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her desk, as if ensuring every inch of it was in place. After a moment of hesitation, she reached for her cloth and began gently wiping down the surface. There was no real mess—just the smallest traces of dust, perhaps—but it felt necessary, as though it needed to be perfect, or else something would be wrong.

Her hair was loose today, cascading over her shoulders, but she quickly reached up, tying it back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She always did this when she needed to focus, the simple action of smoothing her hair back helping her center her thoughts.

Severina took a deep breath, trying to steady her pulse as she reached for her textbook, flipping it open to the day’s potion instructions. Potions always required such careful attention to detail, and though she had mastered the art of balance and timing, something about today’s atmosphere set her on edge. The soft hum of conversation, the low murmur of students preparing their stations—it was all there, but it felt out of sync.

James Potter’s laughter rose from the back of the room, cutting through the low murmur of conversation, and Severina’s fingers twitched involuntarily as her gaze flicked toward him. She had learned long ago to tune them out—the constant disruption, the way they thought themselves entitled to attention. But today, it was harder than usual to keep her mind from wandering.

The tension coiled in her chest, the familiar discomfort that crept up whenever they were around. She glanced back at her station, her eyes scanning the ingredients laid out before her. Every vial, every jar, arranged just so. Everything in its place.

With a sigh, she pushed the distracting thoughts aside and focused on the potion in front of her. Her fingers worked deftly as she carefully measured the powdered moonstone, each precise shake of the bottle grounding her in the task. The swirl of the liquid, the delicate bubble of the cauldron, all calmed her, helped to push the rest of the noise out of her head.

Slughorn moved about the classroom, offering encouragement and praise. Severina focused, her attention honing in on the task in front of her. The world outside her cauldron faded, and everything became about this potion, this moment.

It wasn’t until the class drew to a close that the quietude was shattered.

“Hey, Snape, you missed a spot!” Sirius Black’s voice sliced through the air, loud and mocking. His words echoed in the room as if he had been waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known.

She slowly raised her gaze to the back of the room, where Black and Potter sat, grinning like they had just scored a victory. It took all her effort not to snap at them, not to respond with something sharp. She didn’t need them to be any more of a distraction than they already were.

But as she glanced down at the edge of her cauldron, the small smudge of a drop she had missed—a small imperfection—irritated her. She could feel her heart race, an itch at the back of her mind that told her something wasn’t right. The thought of leaving it, just leaving it as it was, felt impossible.

Her fingers twitched again, and before she realized it, she was wiping the spot away, making sure every part of the cauldron was absolutely perfect. Her movements were mechanical, as if the task had to be completed right now, or else something would be wrong—something she couldn’t explain but felt deep in her chest.

With a breath, she forced herself to calm down. It was just a spot. Nothing to get worked up over.

"Severina, you’re fine," she muttered under her breath, though the words didn’t quite soothe her.

—————

September 25th, 1975

The golden afternoon light filtered weakly through the tall, arched windows of the Ancient Runes classroom. Dust motes floated lazily in the beams as Professor Selwyn spoke about the significance of Elder Futhark inscriptions in protective enchantments.

Severina had been paired with Remus Lupin.

He sat across from her, his quill tapping idly against his parchment as he squinted at the set of carved wooden tiles scattered across the desk between them.

“So,” Remus said softly, breaking the silence, “you’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Severina glanced up, brow arching slightly. “Good enough.”

Remus offered her a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes. “Good. Because I’m not entirely sure I remember half of these runes.”

She studied him for a moment, taking in the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the pale hue of his skin. There was a quiet sort of exhaustion clinging to him, something fragile, though he did his best to hide it behind politeness and faint smiles.

Severina nodded to the scattered tiles. “I’ll do the translations if you can focus on structuring the analysis.”

Remus hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line, before nodding. “Deal.”

They fell into an uneasy rhythm, their quiet conversation restricted to the task at hand. Severina worked with sharp precision, her ink-black quill gliding smoothly over the parchment as she translated the runes one by one. Occasionally, Remus would lean closer, brow furrowed, and ask a question.

Severina didn’t dislike Remus Lupin. He was, by all accounts, polite, respectful, and didn’t seem to share the same biting arrogance as his friends—particularly Sirius and James. But she kept her walls up all the same. Friendships with Gryffindors rarely ended well for her.

No matter how kind they seem, she reminded herself. No matter how much they might mean well.

“Severina?”

Remus’ voice broke her out of her thoughts. He was watching her curiously, a slight crease forming between his brows.

“You paused for a moment,” he said softly.

She blinked, realizing her quill had frozen mid-air above the parchment. With a sharp inhale, she resumed writing. “Just lost in thought.”

He didn’t push her for more, and Severina was grateful. When the bell rang, Severina gathered her belongings briskly, her sharp movements betraying her tension.

“See you next class,” Remus said quietly as she walked past him.

She didn’t respond, her mind already elsewhere as she stepped into the corridor.

The corridor outside was alive with noise and movement as students spilled into the hall, their conversations overlapping in an indecipherable hum.

Lily Evans stood leaning against the wall, her arms crossed and an amused expression on her face. Beside her, Aurora Sinistra fussed with the strap of her satchel, and Charity Burbage was mid-gesture, recounting something enthusiastically to Evan Rosier, who stood a few paces away.

“Well, well,” Lily said with a smirk as Severina approached. “Paired with Remus Lupin, are we?”

Severina shot her a warning look. “Don’t start.”

“Did he faint halfway through the lesson?” Charity asked with a teasing grin, falling into step beside them as they began walking down the corridor.

Aurora gave Severina an encouraging smile. “He seems nice. Quiet, but nice.”

Severina adjusted the strap of her bag, her gaze fixed ahead. “He was… fine. Focused enough.”

“Fine,” Lily repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s practically glowing praise from you.”

Severina rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

As they turned a corner, Mary Macdonald appeared from a nearby classroom, her dark hair swinging as she caught sight of them.

“Severina!” she called, jogging up to the group. “I need to tell you something.”

Severina slowed her pace, and the others turned to look at Mary curiously.

Mary caught up with them, her voice dropping to a quieter tone as she leaned in. “It’s about Mulciber. In Defense—he asked about the Cruciatus Curse. Wanted to know the specifics of how it works, how it feels, what it does.”

Severina’s stomach dropped slightly, but her expression remained unreadable. “What did the professor say?”

“Made him drop it, told him it was an Unforgivable. But the way he asked—” Mary shook her head. “It wasn’t just curiosity. It was like he was planning something.”

The group fell silent for a moment before Lily cleared her throat. “Severina… be careful with him, okay?”

Severina offered them all a tight nod, her lips pressed together. “I’ll handle it.”

But even as she said it, the pit in her stomach refused to fade.

————

Bruce Mulciber stood leaning casually against one of the stone pillars, his arms crossed, speaking in low tones with Evan Rosier and a few other familiar faces—ones Severina had learned to avoid.

“Go ahead,” Severina said to Lily, Aurora, and Charity. “I’ll catch up.”

Lily hesitated, but Aurora gently touched her arm. “Come on, Lily.”

As her friends walked away, Severina squared her shoulders and crossed the courtyard. Bruce noticed her approach, his smirk sliding easily into place as he stepped away from the group.

“Severina,” he said lazily, tilting his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Bruce,” she said evenly. “We need to talk.”

The others began to disperse, leaving the two of them in the shadowed alcove.

“I heard about Defense the other day,” she said, voice low. “The Cruciatus Curse?”

Bruce’s smirk faltered slightly before returning. “It was academic interest, Sev. You know how it is.”

“It wasn’t academic, Bruce. It was… something else. And you know it.”

His expression darkened slightly as he leaned closer. “You act like you’re better than the rest of us, but you’re not. You’re here in this house, aren’t you? You know what’s expected of us. Of you.”

Her stomach churned, and she clenched her fists at her sides.

“I know where I stand,” she said quietly.

Bruce studied her for a moment, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable before he sighed and stepped back. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the shadows.

Severina walked towards a corner briskly, her head spinning from her conversation with Bruce. And, of course, she collided straight into Sirius Black.

“Watch it, Snape,” Sirius snapped, his brows knitting together as he steadied himself.

“Move, Black,” Severina said sharply.

But he didn’t. His sharp gray eyes flicked over her face, noting the tension in her shoulders and the tight line of her mouth. He glanced over her shoulder at Mulciber’s retreating figure, then back at her dark eyes.

“Did Mulciber upset you?” he asked, his tone shifting—no longer sharp, but still edged with something unreadable.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Right. Because you lot like to keep your little Death Eater club meetings private.”

Severina froze, her dark eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “You don’t know anything, Black.”

“And yet I seem to know enough to recognize someone making excuses for the company they keep.”

The words cut deeper than she’d admit.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had confronted her like this. Their relationship had been prickly since first year—insults exchanged across corridors, sharp words in classes, and arguments whenever they crossed paths.

But this felt… different. His voice lacked the usual sneer, and the sharpness in his eyes softened just slightly as he searched her expression.

She pushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his as she walked away.

Sirius stayed still for a moment, watching her fading form, his expression unreadable.

————-

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual when Severina slipped inside. Shadows flickered against the stone walls from the low-burning green flames in the fireplace.

Nikolai was seated on one of the emerald armchairs near the hearth, his dark hair falling into his sharp-featured face as he worked on a parchment. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up.

“You’re back late,” he said, his brows knitting together.

Severina exhaled, setting her bag down and sinking into the chair across from him. “It’s been a long day.”

Nikolai studied her carefully, his sharp blue eyes so much like their mother’s. “I saw you earlier. In the courtyard. With Black.”

Severina’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Were you spying on me, little brother?”

He frowned, his jaw setting stubbornly. “No. I just—he looked like he was bothering you.”

Severina’s smile softened. Nikolai was twelve, still growing into his confidence, but he already carried himself with the same protective stubbornness their father had instilled in them.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” she said gently. “Not in the way you think, at least.”

Nikolai didn’t look convinced. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Severina admitted with a faint sigh. “But it’s not something you need to worry about.”

There was a brief silence between them before Nikolai leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “If he bothers you again, you’ll tell me, right?”

Severina huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “What are you going to do? Challenge him to a duel?”

Nikolai’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into something softer, more serious. “You’ve got enough on your shoulders without worrying about me, Kolya. I can handle Sirius Black.”

Nikolai hesitated but nodded, the protectiveness in his gaze softening into something warmer.

The flickering light of the fireplace danced across their faces as they sat in silence.