out damn spot
October 30th, 1975
The soft hum of the common room fire was the only sound filling the early morning stillness. Severina sat cross-legged on one of the worn, emerald armchairs, her eyes scanning her notes while her mind raced. The delicate scent of fresh parchment usually calmed her, but not today. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Isabelle and Nikolai, their letters from the week before folded neatly in her bag, yet occupying every corner of her brain.
She tapped her quill against her notebook, trying to focus. There was an essay due in Potions—a subject she was supposed to excel in—but her mind refused to cooperate.
The doors to the common room slammed open, jolting her out of her thoughts. She looked up sharply to find Isabelle stomping in, her expression a storm of fury and frustration. Severina’s heart sank.
“Isabelle?” she called, setting her quill aside.
Isabelle froze, her blue eyes—so much like Élodie’s—filling with tears she was clearly fighting to hold back. Severina’s gaze flicked to the way her sister clutched her robes tightly, as if shielding herself from the room around her. She could already guess what had happened, and it sent a slow wave of anger curling through her chest.
“What happened?” Severina asked, her voice sharper than she intended. She softened it, just slightly. “Did someone say something again?”
Isabelle hesitated. Then, like a dam breaking, the words tumbled out. “It was Lavinia and Roderick. They—they were laughing at me in the Great Hall. Lavinia said my robes were—were hand-me-downs, and that I’d be better off as a house-elf than a student.”
The anger curling in Severina’s chest flared into a spark of rage.
“And Roderick?” she asked evenly, though her tone was dangerously calm.
“He laughed. Said at least house-elves know how to keep quiet, unlike me.” Isabelle sniffled, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the hem of her robe.
Severina exhaled slowly, deliberately. She couldn’t let the fury show—not here, not now. Isabelle needed her to be steady, and losing her temper wouldn’t help either of them.
“Come here,” Severina said, patting the seat beside her. When Isabelle hesitated, Severina’s voice softened further. “Come, ma petite sœur.”
Isabelle shuffled over, perching stiffly on the edge of the armchair. Severina reached out, gently tugging her sister closer until she was curled up against her side. For a moment, they just sat there, the crackle of the fire the only sound between them.
“They’re fools,” Severina said finally, her voice low but firm. “People like Lavinia and Roderick—they’re shallow, mean, and too stupid to think of anything better to say. Their words only have power if you let them.”
Isabelle looked up, her lips trembling. “But it’s not fair. I didn’t do anything to them.”
“I know,” Severina said softly. “And it’s not fair. But you have to be strong, Isabelle. You’re a Snape. You’re my sister. And you are better than them, even if they can’t see it.”
Isabelle gave a shaky nod, her tears beginning to subside. Severina brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “You tell me if they bother you again, yes?”
“Okay,” Isabelle murmured.
Severina leaned back, though the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. It wasn’t just about Lavinia or Roderick—it never was. This was only the latest in a series of incidents that had plagued Isabelle since the start of term. And it reminded Severina far too much of her own first year, when she’d been the target of whispered jokes and cruel pranks.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the memory of her first week at Hogwarts. Her excitement at being sorted into Slytherin had been dulled almost immediately by the realization that she didn’t quite fit in. The girls in her dorm had been quick to point out the state of her patched robes, the way her accent slipped into Cokeworth’s rough edges when she was nervous.
Her throat tightened. It had taken her months to learn how to hide her vulnerabilities, to shield herself from their taunts. And now, seeing Isabelle go through the same thing—
Severina shook herself. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Not when her sister needed her now.
“Come on,” she said, giving Isabelle’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s get breakfast. You’ll feel better after some tea.”
Isabelle sniffled again but allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. As they made their way out of the common room, Severina’s mind was already racing with ways to keep her sister safe. She’d shield Isabelle from this cruelty, even if it meant standing alone against the rest of the world.
——-
The Slytherin common room was surprisingly quiet for the late afternoon, the usual hum of chatter replaced by the scratching of quills and the occasional crackle of the fireplace. Severina found Nikolai sitting at a table near the corner, hunched over his parchment, quill in hand but barely moving. His face was twisted in concentration—or boredom—Severina couldn’t quite tell.
She approached him, her arms folded tightly, the faint sting of irritation lingering from the morning. He’d been caught sneaking around with a few other second-years two weeks ago, a stunt that had landed him in detention.
"Nikolai," she said sharply, causing him to flinch and smudge his work. "Do you have a moment, or are you too busy plotting your next disaster?"
He groaned, leaning back in his chair and fixing her with a sulky glare. "It wasn’t a disaster. That was two weeks ago, Severina. Let it go."
"I’ll let it go when you prove you can behave yourself," she shot back, pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. "Do you think I don’t have enough to deal with without worrying about you getting into trouble?"
Nikolai rolled his eyes but wisely said nothing. Severina’s fingers drummed against the table, her sharp gaze making him fidget.
“I mean it,” she continued, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I already have to worry about Isabelle—”
She stopped short, realizing her slip too late. Nikolai’s eyes snapped to hers, his frown deepening. “What about Isabelle?”
“Nothing,” Severina said quickly, but her tone betrayed her. She sighed, leaning back and rubbing her temple. “She’s fine.”
“Severina,” Nikolai pressed, his voice sharpening with concern. “What’s wrong with her? Is someone—”
“She’s fine,” Severina repeated firmly, cutting him off. “She’s just... dealing with a few unpleasant people. That’s all.”
His jaw tightened, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Who?" he demanded.
"Nikolai," she warned, leaning forward. "You will not do anything. Do you hear me?"
"But if someone’s bothering her—"
"You will not," she interrupted, her tone icy. She switched to Russian, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. ""Веди себя, Niko. Don’t make things worse for her."
He scowled, his hand tightening around his quill. "I wouldn’t make things worse. I’d fix it."
"By getting yourself into more trouble?" Severina raised a brow, unimpressed. "Because that’s what would happen. You’re twelve, Nikolai, not invincible."
He flushed at her words, his defiance faltering. "I just... don’t like the idea of anyone messing with her," he mumbled.
"And neither do I," she said, her voice softening slightly. "But we can’t fix things by causing more problems. Let me handle it. Please."
For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression stormy. Finally, he slumped back in his chair with a defeated sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "But if they keep it up—"
"They won’t," she said firmly, though she wasn’t entirely sure herself.
She stood, brushing imaginary lint off her skirt as she prepared to leave. "And Nikolai?" she added, her voice calm but carrying a clear warning. "Stay out of trouble. I mean it."
He didn’t respond, instead glaring down at his parchment as if it had personally offended him. Severina hesitated for a moment, tempted to say more, but decided against it. She had enough to worry about without adding another argument to the list.
As she walked away, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. Nikolai’s protective streak was one of his better traits, but it also made him reckless. She just hoped he would actually listen to her this time.
——-
The room buzzed with anticipation as Professor Carrow entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Severina took her usual seat at the back, her hands immediately brushing the edges of her desk, aligning everything just so. The parchment was exactly parallel to the edge, the quill positioned just within reach, angled at a perfect forty-five degrees. She exhaled softly, her gaze darting to the blackboard, though her mind never fully left the arrangement in front of her.
"Today, we'll be focusing on the Impediment Jinx, or, Impedimenta," Professor Carrow announced, her voice sharp and commanding. "Pair up, and we’ll begin."
Severina immediately glanced around, dreading the inevitable pairing. Her stomach clenched, and she tried to shake off the anxiety as she turned her attention to the nearest student—Merrick Pryce. Of course. The smirk he gave her as he sauntered over did little to ease her tension. His eyes always felt too sharp, too scrutinizing, as though he could see every crack in her composed exterior.
As they settled into their practice, Severina felt the familiar pressure building in her chest. She glanced at the papers she’d neatly arranged just moments before, her fingers itching to straighten them again. No. Focus.
“Something wrong, Severina?” Merrick’s voice broke through her thoughts, his smirk widening. “You seem... distracted today. I’m sure your father would be proud of you, though, wouldn’t he? Such a sharp mind.”
The mention of her father—who was, of course, utterly disconnected from the magical world—felt like a punch to the gut. Why would he bring that up now? Her father, a Muggle with no connection to magic except for his family, had nothing to do with this class, with this world. The taunt felt misplaced, but it still stung. Her thoughts stumbled as she struggled to mask her discomfort.
“Not at all,” she managed to reply, her voice crisp but betraying an edge of tension she couldn't fully control. She willed herself to ignore it. Focus. Get it together.
Merrick seemed to take that as an invitation to press further, his voice lowering into a mocking drawl. “Well, I’m sure your father’s proud of your grades, though. Especially since you’re following the ‘right path,’ aren’t you?”
The words stung more than they should have. Severina felt her pulse quicken, but she ignored the tightening in her chest, the urge to shift her papers again, straighten her books. It’s fine, Severina. Focus on the charm.
They began their practice. Severina’s grip on her wand tightened, and she forced herself to concentrate on the steps. The incantation was simple, Expelliarmus, easy enough for even a first-year to master, but as she repeated the words in her mind, something felt off. The incantation slipped from her tongue as though it were foreign.
Her first attempt was too weak, a flicker of magic that barely moved the air between them. No, that’s not right. Her hand tightened on the wand again, but her movements were sluggish, hesitant. It has to be perfect. Her eyes darted to Merrick, who was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish the charm, to show that she could do this properly.
Her second attempt was only slightly better—a half-hearted burst of light that fizzled out before reaching him. No, no, no. It’s all wrong.
Her hand shook, but she quickly hid it under the table, pushing the fear down. Focus. Get it right.
Her thoughts scattered as she adjusted her wand, trying to recalibrate. Her heart was beating faster now, each movement more frantic, the pressure mounting. It has to be right. The tension in her chest was growing unbearable. She couldn’t look at Merrick anymore. She didn’t want to see the judgment in his eyes, the way he would surely make fun of her mistake.
“Try again, Severina,” he said, and there was no mistaking the tone this time—he was enjoying this, taking pleasure in her discomfort.
But when she performed the charm for the third time, everything fell apart. Instead of disarming him, the spell ricocheted off his wand, hitting the desk with a sharp crack that made several books fall to the floor with a loud thud. The jarring noise echoed through the classroom, and Severina felt her face flush with mortification.
Her mind reeled as she stared at the mess in front of her. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. I failed.
Her eyes flicked to the scattered books, her fingers twitching with the urgent need to fix them, to return everything to its proper order. She reached to collect them, but she was interrupted by Merrick’s voice, now dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, that was impressive, Severina,” he said, his tone far too loud, drawing the attention of a few students around them. "Maybe you should try a little less ‘perfect’ next time, huh?"
Her stomach twisted, a mixture of humiliation and frustration bubbling up. It’s not that hard. Why can’t I get it right? Why can’t I just... be perfect?
Severina straightened up quickly, her hands still trembling as she fought to control her breathing. Her gaze lingered on the books, just a little too long. There. It’s better now. It’s fixed.
——-
The Charms classroom was buzzing with the usual noise of students attempting to master the levitation charm, but Severina wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, swirling with the weight of her personal troubles. She stared blankly at her parchment, hands clasped tightly around her quill, trying to steady the nervous energy that ran through her.
Beside her, Lily was scribbling away with that trademark focus of hers, her quill moving as if it were an extension of her hand. Severina wasn’t sure if she should talk to her or if she should just continue pretending everything was fine. There was something off about today—too much pressure from too many angles—and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was about to unravel.
“Sev?” Lily’s voice was low, full of concern. She turned to Severina, her green eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure you’re okay?”
Severina gave her a tight-lipped smile, though it felt anything but reassuring. “Yeah, just tired. You know, classes.”
Lily didn’t look convinced but chose not to press further. She returned her attention to the levitation charm they were supposed to be practicing, muttering the incantation under her breath.
Severina’s thoughts drifted, her grip on the quill tightening once again. She felt restless. Tense. It was as though her nerves were about to snap, and she couldn’t figure out why.
It didn’t help that James Potter, who was seated in the back row with Peter Pettigrew, couldn’t resist making his presence known with his usual antics. Severina had heard their laughter, the rustling of parchment, and the soft hum of magic filling the air before she even realized what had happened.
She heard it before she felt it—a sudden splash of ink onto her paper.
The mess spread rapidly, dark blotches staining the carefully written notes she had taken that morning. Severina froze, staring at the ink, her breath catching in her throat. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach as she looked up at James Potter, who had that infuriating grin plastered across his face.
“Oh, whoops,” James said with an exaggerated look of innocence, though his voice was thick with amusement. “Didn’t mean to ruin your notes, Snape.”
Peter snickered beside him, clearly entertained by the whole thing.
Severina clenched her fists under the desk, her jaw tightening. The nerve of them. And Sirius was right there, leaning back casually in his seat, not even bothering to step in. He was always content to sit back and let his friends make trouble, just as long as it didn’t touch him.
Lily stood up abruptly, her face a mixture of disbelief and fury. “Potter, seriously?” she snapped, her voice rising as she pointed to the mess. “You’re still doing this?”
James raised his hands, feigning innocence. “What? It was an accident!” he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told another story.
“It was an accident the first hundred times, Potter,” Lily said, her eyes narrowed with frustration. “You’re doing it on purpose now.”
Severina tried to steady herself, but her breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. This wasn’t just a prank—it was the constant reminder that she was different, that she wasn’t like them. That she would always be the one targeted by their petty nonsense.
She turned away from them, hastily grabbing her wand to clean up the ink. It didn’t matter, though. The ink was gone from the paper, but the feeling of being marked, of being humiliated, stayed with her.
“I’m going,” she muttered, her voice tight with emotion. She couldn’t stay here any longer. She needed to get away before she broke.
Lily opened her mouth to call after her, but Severina didn’t wait. She grabbed her bag and hurried out of the room, not caring if the rest of the class watched her go.
The cold corridor greeted her as she left the Charms classroom, but it didn’t help ease the suffocating tension rising in her chest. Each step seemed heavier than the last, her mind clouded by the swirling thoughts of the prank, of the ink, of everything that had built up until now. Her hands trembled at her sides, wet with ink, and she could feel the edges of panic creeping in.
By the time Severina reached the bathroom on the seventh floor, she was already gasping for air. The door swung open with a harsh push, and she didn’t bother to check if anyone else was inside. The room felt like a sanctuary, even if it was just for a moment.
She went straight to the sink, turning on the tap and grabbing the soap. Her hands were still shaking, and as she stared at the dark ink staining her fingers, she felt the pressure in her chest intensify. She had to get it off. It couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t stand it.
The sound of her frantic scrubbing echoed off the tile walls, the water running over her hands in a futile attempt to wash away the ink. No matter how hard she worked at it, the stains wouldn’t fade. The ink spread more, clinging to her skin, mocking her.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else, the panic bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her. She scrubbed harder, her hands raw, her nails scraping against the sink as she desperately tried to erase the stain.
But it wouldn’t come off.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. Not now. Not here.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open with a creak, and Severina’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Isabelle stood there, her face a picture of worry, her hand still on the doorknob.
“Sev?” Isabelle’s voice was small, hesitant. “Are you alright?”
Severina didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She kept scrubbing her hands, her mind spinning. The sound of her ragged breath filled the air, and it felt like the room was closing in on her.
Isabelle stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Sev, stop! You’re hurting yourself.”
But Severina couldn’t stop. The pressure, the weight of everything, had built to a point where she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her hands were turning raw, red patches forming where the ink refused to leave. She barely registered the sharp sting as she continued, unable to tear herself away from the frantic motion.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the walls of the bathroom closing in. The panic was suffocating, and she couldn’t escape it.
Isabelle’s frantic voice was distant as she called for help, but Severina’s world was narrow, focused only on her hands, the ink, the overwhelming fear. And then—everything blurred.
——-
Sirius Black had just rounded the corner, his mind elsewhere as he tried to figure out where the hell James and Peter had gone off to. Lily had given them a right talking to after Snape had run out, and James had skulked off with his tail between his legs. He was thinking about going back to the common room when he saw mini-Snape rushing out of the bathroom, a panicked expression on her face.
“Help, please!” she gasped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s Severina... she—she’s—” Her voice faltered as her eyes darted back toward the door.
Sirius’ concern sharpened. “What happened?”
“She’s inside,” Isabelle said quickly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think she’s hurt.”
His instincts kicked in. He didn’t even think twice. He followed Isabelle into the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. He didn’t care about anything else, just about finding Severina.
When he saw her, a cold wave of dread washed over him.
Severina crouched, leaning against the counter, her body shaking with the kind of desperation he had never seen before. Her hair was disheveled, and her hands—God, her hands—were bloodied and raw, shoved deep into her hair. The ink had stained her skin, but it was the red smears, the flesh torn from her frantic scrubbing, that made his stomach churn.
Her eyes were wide with panic, and she didn’t even seem to notice him as he approached. The floor around her was a mess—papers scattered, her bag tipped over, and the remnants of broken objects surrounding her.
She was shaking uncontrollably, and Sirius immediately felt the urge to step forward, but he held back, watching her carefully. He had no idea what to do, but one thing was clear—she was breaking.
He crouched down beside her slowly, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Snape,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Look at me. You’re okay. I’m here.”
Her wide eyes flickered briefly to him before she looked away again, her breathing shallow, erratic. He could feel the panic radiating from her, but he didn’t move, just kept his hand gently on her.
“Severina. It’s alright,” he repeated, his voice soft but insistent. “Just breathe with me.”
Severina’s hands trembled as they clutched the sink, but she stopped scrubbing. Slowly, carefully, she met his eyes again, her breathing beginning to slow, matching his, though she still shook with the remnants of the panic. Her pink lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.
Sirius didn’t force it. He just stayed there, close, his hand never leaving her shoulder as he helped her regain some semblance of control.
After what felt like an eternity, Severina’s body went still. Her eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally overtaking her. The deep, shaky breaths came slower, and then—finally—her body relaxed, her head sinking into his chest.
Sirius held her carefully, his heart pounding. For once, he wasn’t thinking about anything else but making sure she was okay.