the first crack
Dear Severina,
I hope this letter finds you well, ma fille. The house feels quieter with you, Isabelle and Nikolai both away at school, though Élodie chatters enough for the three of you combined. She misses you dearly, and I think she’s trying to fill the space you’ve left behind.
How is Belle settling in? She writes to me, but her letters are short and filled mostly with excitement about the Great Hall’s ceilings and how the staircases move when she’s not looking. Has she made any friends yet? Please do look after her, Severina—you know how sensitive she can be.
As for Nikolai… well, I’ve received an owl from Professor Slughorn. Something about a prank gone wrong and a cauldron that won’t stop producing smoke. I do hope he’s not causing you too much trouble. He’s clever, that boy, but he lacks your sense of… restraint.
Élodie has been keeping me company. She’s been spending more time inside lately—the weather is turning, and she’s developed a bit of a cough. It’s nothing serious, just the chill settling in, I think. But you know how stubborn she is; she refuses to rest and insists on helping me with the garden.
Take care of yourself, my Severina. I know Hogwarts can be… difficult. Please write back when you can, even if it’s just a few lines. I miss you terribly, and so do your siblings.
All my love,
Maman
Severina folded the parchment with careful precision, her fingers lingering on the edges as if the ink might smudge beneath her touch. Her mother’s letters always carried the scent of home—of lavender soap, worn parchment, and faint traces of the herbs Élodie would press into the folds when she wasn’t looking.
“Take care of yourself, my Severina.”
The words clung to her chest like a phantom ache, warm yet heavy. Her mother had always been like this—soft-spoken but sharp-eyed, a quiet force of nature who stitched broken things back together with steady hands and tender care. Severina wondered if Élodie’s cough was truly just the chill or if her mother was sparing her the details, trying to keep one less weight from pressing on her eldest daughter’s shoulders.
She glanced toward the common room window, where the faint glow of jack-o’-lanterns flickered somewhere in the distance. Halloween was drawing closer, but the usual giddy anticipation felt muted this year, like the castle was holding its breath.
Her siblings’ faces flashed through her mind—Nikolai, likely grinning through another detention slip, and Isabelle, wide-eyed and earnest, clutching her quill as she scribbled a reply home. They were her responsibility here, and Eileen’s letter was a reminder of just how tightly their world was stitched together by fragile threads.
With a sigh, Severina tucked the letter safely into her pocket, her thumb brushing over the creased edge one last time.
The soft hum of chatter and distant footsteps filled the dimly lit corridor as Severina made her way towards the library. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and her brows furrowed in deep thought as her fingers absently fiddled with the corner of one of her textbooks. It wasn’t until she turned a corner that the faint sound of snickering caught her attention.
Severina’s sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on a couple of older Slytherins surrounding her younger sister, Isabelle. The 11-year-old stood in the middle, her shoulders tense, her face flushed with both anger and embarrassment. Around her, Roderick Goyle and Lavinia Carrow, both sixth years, towered, their smirks bordering on malicious.
“You should know better than to mess with us,” Lavinia sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as she and Roderick pushed Isabelle a little too forcefully, making her stumble.
Isabelle, her magic still volatile, was standing as still as she could, her fingers twitching by her side. Severina could feel the magic crackling in the air—Isabelle was on the verge of a burst of wild, uncontrolled power.
Roderick chuckled darkly, “What, are you going to start crying now, little firstie?”
Severina’s footsteps echoed sharply as she approached, her presence immediately making the older students pause. Her gaze was cool and unwavering as she looked at them, and her voice was deceptively calm, low but firm. “Step away from her.”
Lavinia raised an eyebrow, as though testing her. “And if we don’t?”
“You will sorely regret it,” Severina replied coldly. There was no hesitation in her words.
The threat in Severina’s tone was enough to make the older students falter, though neither of them would back down easily. But what really made them hesitate was the fact that Severina’s words were backed by the unmistakable confidence of someone who knew how to wield their power. She was not some fragile first-year—she was a force to be reckoned with.
Roderick gave a half-hearted laugh, but even that sounded hollow as Severina continued to advance, her cold stare pinning them in place. The magic in the air around Isabelle was starting to feel more volatile, like it might explode at any moment. Severina could see the way her sister was clenching her fists, struggling to keep her composure.
"Enough." Severina said sharply in French, her voice softening as she turned to Isabelle. “Sabine, breathe. You’re safe.”
Isabelle’s eyes were wide, her face pale, but she looked at Severina with a mixture of gratitude and trust. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” Severina interrupted gently, her hand brushing against her sister’s shoulder. “I know, Sabine. Just breathe.”
Turning back to the two older students, Severina added, her voice dripping with cold venom as she let her eyes burn into theirs: “If either of you ever even think about threatening her again, I will make sure you regret it. And that is not an idle threat.”
The boy hesitated, glancing at his companion, before sneering slightly. “Relax, Snape. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Leave.” Severina’s voice dropped, cold and final. “Now.”
She took a single step toward them, and the air seemed to crackle with her power. Roderick and Lavinia looked between each other, realizing that Severina wasn’t just bluffing. There was something in her gaze that sent a chill down their spines.
“Come on,” Lavinia muttered, nudging Roderick as they slowly backed away, the intimidation finally getting through. They had picked on enough people to know when to cut their losses.
As they left, Severina turned to Isabelle again, her expression softening. “Are you alright?”
Isabelle nodded quickly, but her voice wavered slightly as she spoke. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to get upset like that. I just...”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Severina interrupted, her tone more comforting now. “You didn’t cause any trouble. They did. They always do.”
Isabelle’s eyes flickered with a mix of relief and guilt, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “But... I shouldn’t have let them—”
Severina pulled her into a tight hug, cutting her off. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. And I’ll always have your back. No one gets to push you around, understand?”
Isabelle nodded fervently, burying her face in her sister’s robes. “Thank you, Severina. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Severina held her for a moment longer, her heart aching at the weight of her younger sister’s words. Finally, she pulled back slightly and cupped Isabelle’s face gently in her hands. “You don’t have to do anything without me. You’ve got me here, always.”
Isabelle’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude, but she smiled, wiping her eyes quickly. “I wish I could be as brave as you, Severina.”
“I know you do,” Severina said softly, her voice almost too gentle. “But you’re stronger than you think, Sabine. Don’t forget that.”
Isabelle smiled a little more brightly, her spirits lifting from the heavy encounter. “I won’t. I promise.” She held up her pinky, and Severina hooked her own on it.
Severina glanced briefly in the direction the older students had gone, her lips curling into a sharp sneer as she muttered under her breath in Russian—a string of sharp, venomous curses directed at them.
But when she turned back to Isabelle, her expression softened.
“Come on, ma chérie. What’s your next class?”
Isabelle grimaced. “Potions.”
"Potions, huh?" Severina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a small smirk. "You could always ask me for help, but I’m not sure you’re ready for the expertise of a true potions connoisseur. It’s not for the faint of heart."
“I’ll take my chances,” Sabine replied with a small grin, shaking her head.
Together, they walked away from the scene, Isabelle tucked protectively under Severina’s arm. She would go to the library later, but right now, her thoughts remained on her little sister.
———
October 6th, 1975
The classroom for Study of Ancient Runes was colder than the rest of the castle, its high arched windows letting in the weak autumn sunlight. Severina sat at her usual spot near the front, her quill poised above a parchment already filled with tidy rows of notes. Across from her sat Remus Lupin, his ink-stained fingers drumming lightly against the side of his desk as he squinted at a set of carved runes etched into a slate tablet between them.
Professor Selwyn, an older witch with sharp eyes and a stern jawline, glided through the rows of students, occasionally pausing to offer brief, cutting feedback. The subject was not one many students excelled in—it required patience, sharp wit, and a meticulous eye for detail. All qualities Severina possessed in abundance.
Runes were… orderly. They had rules, systems, and if one understood them well enough, they revealed themselves in patterns of startling clarity. It was a comfort to Severina, whose life rarely allowed for such predictability. Magic was wild, people were chaotic, and the world—well, the world was cold and sharp-edged. But runes? Runes made sense.
“Runes are not merely words, but intention crystallized in stone,” Professor Selwyn announced. “They require understanding, not memorization.”
Severina’s quill scratched against her parchment, transcribing the professor’s words as she glanced up at Remus. His brow was furrowed, a faint sheen of sweat glistening at his temple despite the chill in the room.
“Are you going to stare at it until it solves itself, Lupin?” she asked, arching a brow.
Remus huffed a quiet laugh, but it was tired. “If only. Some of these runes seem deliberately cryptic.”
“They are deliberately cryptic. That’s the point.” Severina leaned closer, her voice low enough to remain unheard by others. “It’s a protective inscription. The first rune represents guardianship, the second… a binding, I believe. And the third…”
Remus’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he gestured for her to continue.
“See?” she said lightly. “It’s like reading a story. The intention is right there if you bother to look closely.”
Remus stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple,” she corrected. “It’s just… orderly. Runes are predictable. People aren’t.”
There was an edge to her voice, sharper than she intended, but Remus didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he rubbed his temple, his pale skin standing out starkly against the dark bags under his eyes.
Severina’s gaze lingered on him briefly. He looked… worn. Too worn for someone so young.
“You look exhausted, Lupin,” she said, keeping her tone neutral, her gaze fixed on the parchment.
“I didn’t sleep well,” he admitted softly, his voice tight. “The moon was—” He cut himself off sharply, clearing his throat. “Never mind.”
The moon.
Her quill paused briefly before continuing its smooth movements. She didn’t look at him, but she filed that detail away neatly in the corner of her mind, alongside the countless other observations she collected without meaning to. Severina had always been good at noticing things. It came from years of watching, listening, anticipating. Survival had made her observant; academia had made her sharp.
Professor Selwyn swept past their desk, her long emerald robes whispering against the stone floor. She glanced briefly at Severina’s parchment before giving a small nod of approval.
“Excellent work, Miss Snape,” Selwyn said curtly. “Your translations are precise, as always.”
The praise was minimal, but from Selwyn, it was worth its weight in gold. The professor didn’t waste words, and compliments from her were rare enough to be treasures.
Severina felt her lips twitch into the barest ghost of a smile as the professor moved on. For all the woman’s cold demeanor, she saw Severina. She saw her effort, her precision, her capability—and acknowledged it. In a world where Severina often felt she had to carve space for herself with sharp edges and harsher words, it felt like a quiet validation.
Remus tilted his head, watching Severina for a moment. “She likes you,” he said quietly.
“Professor Selwyn doesn’t like anyone,” Severina replied dryly, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
They worked in silence for a few more minutes before Remus hesitated, glancing sideways at her. “Severina… can I ask you something?”
She looked up, dark eyes sharp. “You just did.”
He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Right. Do you… ever get tired of having to always have the right answers? Of being the one who seems to have it all together?”
The question caught her off guard, striking a little too close to something she didn’t want to examine. Her hand stilled over her parchment as she considered him.
“No,” she said carefully. “Because if I’m not… then who will be?”
Remus nodded slowly, as though he understood something she hadn’t said aloud.
The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence, save for the occasional rustle of parchment or the scratching of quills. Severina worked with practiced efficiency, her notes meticulous, her translations flawless.
Remus, despite his evident fatigue, managed to follow her lead, his parchment slowly filling with neat, albeit slightly hesitant, translations.
As the class came to an end, Professor Selwyn dismissed them with a curt nod, her gaze lingering on Severina for a brief moment before she turned away.
Severina gathered her things methodically, her movements precise and deliberate. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, Remus hesitated beside her.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "For the help."
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "It was nothing."
But as they stepped out of the chilly classroom and into the bustling corridor, Severina couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity about the boy with the haunted eyes and too many secrets. Secrets, she thought, that might be closer to unraveling than he realized.
——-
October 27th, 1975
Midnight
The forest was alive with whispers. Leaves rustled overhead, branches creaked in protest against the wind, and somewhere far off, a faint, ethereal glow flickered between the trees. Severina moved carefully through the underbrush, her wand tip glowing faintly with Lumos. The pale light illuminated her sharp features and the faint shimmer of the delicate plants she’d been collecting—Moondew Leaves, rare and fleeting, only harvestable under the waning moonlight.
She crouched low, her gloved fingers trembling slightly as they hovered above the slender stems. Each leaf had to be cut precisely at the base—any tear, any jagged edge, and the entire plant would lose its potency.
Steady, she told herself. Her movements were meticulous, deliberate. She adjusted her grip on the silver shears, aligning them just right before snipping the stem cleanly. She inspected the cut, holding the leaf up to the light. It was perfect. Good.
Carefully, she tucked the leaf into a silk-lined pouch within her satchel. It sat nestled among the others, all carefully arranged in a precise, uniform pattern. Rows and rows of pale blue leaves, their edges perfectly aligned.
Her mind wandered as her fingers worked, the crisp night air sharp against her skin.
"You’re no fun, Severina!" Charity’s voice flitted across her thoughts, bright and teasing. It had been earlier in the week, in the library, when Charity had planted herself across from Severina with a conspiratorial grin. "Hufflepuff’s throwing a party this Saturday, you should come. I’ll save you a drink. Or two. Or three!"
"I don’t drink, Burbage."
"Oh, who cares about that? You can stand in the corner and scowl at everyone if you like. But at least come and scowl there instead of here, with your nose buried in dusty books."
Severina smirked faintly at the memory, the corner of her mouth twitching upward as she placed another moonflower into her satchel. Charity was relentless in her cheerfulness, as persistent as a summer storm. Still, the idea of squeezing herself into a room packed with loud, excitable Hufflepuffs had made her stomach turn. She'd declined, of course, despite Charity's exaggerated sigh and dramatic flopping onto the library table.
Her thoughts shifted again, this time to Lily.
"It wouldn’t kill you to come to one game, Severina," Lily had said, arms crossed, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. They’d been walking together across the courtyard, the sun setting behind them in a blaze of orange and pink. "It’s just Quidditch. You might even like it."
"I highly doubt that," Severina had replied dryly. "Quidditch is chaos in the air. Broomsticks, bludgers, people flinging themselves at high speeds? It's a wonder they don’t all plummet to their deaths every match."
"Oh, come on. It’s fun!"
"It’s foolish."
Lily had huffed out a laugh, bumping Severina’s shoulder as they walked. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
The corners of Severina’s mouth twitched again as she reached for another moonflower. Quidditch. Flying. They were wastes of time, she still believed that. A lot of noise and spectacle over a ball and some hoops in the sky. There were far better ways to spend her time, ways that didn't involve dangling herself precariously over a hundred feet of open air on an enchanted twig.
But Lily had smiled at her that day, green eyes gleaming, so bright and full of life, and for a moment Severina had almost considered it. Almost.
She let out a slow breath, her exhale misting in the cold night air. The moonflowers were fragile things, their soft petals trembling as she carefully added another to her growing collection.
The night around her was still. Peaceful.
But her mind wasn’t. It buzzed with echoes of voices, fleeting smiles, and words left lingering in the spaces between breaths.
"You should come."
"It wouldn’t kill you to try."
Severina shook her head slightly, refocusing on the task at hand. The moonflowers would wither if mishandled, and she couldn’t afford distractions now.
Still, the echo of Lily’s laughter and Charity’s teasing smile followed her as she moved deeper into the shadows, her bag growing heavier with silvery blooms.
She exhaled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
A sound—a faint crack of a twig somewhere to her left. Severina froze, her heart stuttering in her chest. Slowly, she turned her head, eyes narrowing into the darkness.
There was something—someone—moving through the trees. A pale figure glided between the shadows, silent and graceful, its shape elongated and barely solid in the faint moonlight. It wasn’t walking, nor was it running—it was simply there.
Severina held her breath. Her grip on her wand tightened until her knuckles went white. For a brief moment, the figure turned slightly, and she thought—hoped—she saw something gentle in the way it moved, something not quite predatory.
But before she could take a step forward, before she could even breathe out, the figure vanished behind a cluster of trees, and the forest fell silent again.
Her stomach churned uneasily. She took one slow step back, then another, her boots barely making a sound against the mossy ground. You’ve got what you came for, she reminded herself. Time to go.
She turned, clutching her satchel to her chest as she made her way back toward the castle.
It was colder at night, and every sound—the creak of stone, the soft drip of water—seemed amplified tenfold. Severina moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows, her steps precise and measured.
She rounded a corner near an unused corridor and—
Crash.
She collided hard with something—someone—and her satchel slipped from her shoulder. Its contents scattered across the cold stone floor, fragile Moondew Leaves fluttering down like pale, broken wings.
“Watch where—oh, brilliant. You.”
Sirius Black stood before her, wand already drawn, grey eyes sharp and unforgiving. His hair was tousled, his tie loose, and his expression set in that infuriating mix of superiority and suspicion.
“Snape,” he said lowly, his tone venomous. “Out for a midnight stroll, are we? Or are you brewing something unsavory in the dungeons? Practicing curses in the moonlight?”
Severina bristled, her eyes flicking to the leaves scattered at her feet. Her chest tightened at the sight of them—so fragile, so vulnerable, out of place on the cold, dirty stones.
She dropped to her knees instantly, her gloved fingers trembling as she began gathering them up. Each leaf had to be inspected—carefully, carefully—before being placed back in her pouch. Some were crumpled. Some were bent. Her breath quickened as her mind raced.
Out of order. Damaged. Wrong.
“Merlin, do you ever stop fussing?” Sirius said, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.
“Shut up,” she snapped, her voice tight as she smoothed out one of the crumpled leaves with careful precision. “These plants are worth more than your entire year’s academic effort.”
Sirius crouched down across from her, though he didn’t help her collect anything. His wand was still gripped loosely in his hand. “So, you are brewing something dodgy, then.”
Severina looked up sharply, her dark eyes narrowing. “If you must know, Black, I was collecting potion ingredients. Something far beyond your comprehension, I’d wager.”
“Oh, so you’re not out here carving hex marks into trees or summoning spirits with the blood of—”
“Enough!” Severina snapped, rising to her feet with her satchel clutched tightly to her chest. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the strap. “You’re one to talk, skulking about in the middle of the night like some self-important shadow. What are you doing out here, Black? Chasing ghosts? Or just trying to find another way to inflate your oversized ego?”
Sirius smirked, though the sharpness in his gaze didn’t fade. “Touchy, aren’t we?”
Before she could retort, the faint sound of footsteps and the tell-tale wheezing of Argus Filch echoed down the hall.
Severina’s breath caught, and Sirius’s smirk vanished.
“Filch,” they said simultaneously.
Without another word, Sirius grabbed Severina’s wrist and yanked her into the nearest cupboard. The door slammed shut just as Filch’s lantern light washed over the corridor outside.
The space was impossibly small, filled with cleaning supplies, stacks of old parchment, and the faint scent of mildew. Severina was pressed tightly against Sirius’s chest, her breath shallow as they both froze in place.
“Don’t move,” Sirius whispered, his voice barely audible.
His head was tilted down toward her, their faces inches apart. Severina could see the faint flicker of gold in his grey eyes from the light filtering through the cracks in the door. She could feel his breath against her cheek.
The seconds stretched into eternity. Outside, Filch’s grumbling voice grew louder, then faded again as he shuffled further down the corridor.
But neither of them moved.
Severina’s heart was beating impossibly fast. She was hyper-aware of Sirius’s hand still gripping her wrist, of the space between them—or rather, the utter lack of it.
“You’re standing on my foot,” she said quietly, her voice sharp despite the softness of her tone.
Sirius blinked, then smirked again. “Right. Sorry, your majesty.”
“Get off,” she hissed.
He shifted slightly, but the motion brought them even closer together. His nose nearly brushed hers, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
“Do you always smell like flowers, Snape?” Sirius said suddenly, his voice soft and unfamiliar. It was though the words has slipped from his mouth unbidden.
Severina’s breath hitched, but she quickly schooled her expression into one of irritation. “Do you always smell like trouble, Black?”
Sirius chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm in the confined space. But before either of them could say another word, Filch’s footsteps grew distant enough for safety.
Sirius released her wrist, his warmth leaving her skin with goosebumps, and slowly cracked the door open. Light spilled into the cramped space, and Severina pushed past him with as much dignity as one could muster after being trapped in a cupboard with Sirius Black. Her hand came up to grab her own wrist in a soothing gesture.
“Not a word of this, Black.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Snape.”
But he was still smirking as he walked away, hands shoved into his pockets, leaving Severina standing in the empty corridor—her face warmer than she’d ever admit.