The flickering light of the dungeon lanterns cast long shadows on the cold stone walls. Severus Snape sat at his desk, the quill in his hand trembling slightly as he wrote. His heart was heavy, a weight that had grown unbearable over the years.
For as long as he could remember, the halls of Hogwarts had been a battlefield. The Marauders—James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew—had made it their mission to humiliate him at every turn. Every insult, every hex, every moment of mockery had chipped away at his defenses until there was nothing left but raw, aching vulnerability. Severus paused, staring at the parchment before him. His words were scrawled unevenly, the ink smudged in places where his hand had faltered. But he kept writing, pouring everything he felt into the letter. Severus set the quill down, his hand trembling as he folded the letter neatly. He placed it in an envelope, sealing it with a flick of his wand. The weight in his chest felt unbearable, but there was also a strange sense of calm. He was done.He stood and glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the few belongings he’d managed to hold onto over the years. Books, vials of potions, and the worn scarf his mother had knit him. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it did.With the letter in hand, Severus walked through the quiet, empty corridors of the castle. The shadows seemed to stretch endlessly, enveloping him in their cold embrace. He reached the Gryffindor common room, where he knew the Marauders would return later that night. Placing the envelope on the small table near the entrance, he whispered a charm to ensure only they would see it.
Then, he turned and walked away.
James was the first to notice them. His name, written in dark ink, sent a chill down his spine. “What’s this?” he muttered, picking up the envelope. Written in Severus’ neat, deliberate handwriting, The others looked up as he distributed the letters.“Why would Snivellus write to us?” Sirius sneered, though his tone was uncertain. Remus frowned. “We should read them.”
James,
You were the leader—the golden boy of Hogwarts. Charming, talented, and adored by everyone. It must have been easy for you, standing at the top, looking down on people like me. People who weren’t born into wealth or beauty or the warmth of friendship.
You could have used your power for good, James. You could have been the kind of person others look up to, not out of fear or admiration for your pranks, but because you were kind. Instead, you chose to make me your target. Was it fun, pushing me into the mud? Humiliating me in front of the entire school? Did it make you feel more powerful to see me broken, knowing no one would dare to stand up to you?
I used to think you were jealous of me—of my intelligence, my abilities in potions, maybe even my friendship with Lily. But now I think you tormented me simply because you could. Because you wanted to.
I hope you understand the cost of your actions now. You might have been the hero in everyone else’s story, but in mine, you were the villain.
-Severus
James sat frozen, his fingers gripping the parchment tightly. The words pierced through him like daggers, and for the first time, he felt the weight of the harm he’d done. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Sirius,
You were the worst of them all. Your cruelty had no purpose, no justification other than your own amusement. You were relentless, a predator who thrived on my pain. Every hex, every insult, every cruel laugh felt like a dagger in my back.
What was it about me that angered you so much? Was it my ambition? My loyalty to Slytherin? Or was it something deeper, something you saw in me that reminded you of what you hated in yourself?
I’ll never know, and I suppose it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you took my existence—my already difficult, lonely existence—and made it unbearable. You turned me into your personal scapegoat, someone to take the brunt of your anger and frustration.
But I’m done. You don’t have to waste another ounce of energy hating me, Sirius. I won’t be here to hate anymore.
-Severus
Sirius read the letter twice, his smirk wiped clean from his face. “I didn’t...” His voice faltered. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling. “I didn’t think... I didn’t mean for him to...” “You didn’t mean to what?” Remus asked sharply. “Drive him to this? Is that what you were going to say?”
Remus,
I expected nothing from James or Sirius. I knew what kind of people they were. But you—You were supposed to be different.
You were kind. Quiet. Someone who understood what it meant to be an outcast. I thought, for a fleeting moment, that you might step in. That you might tell them to stop, or at least refuse to join in their games. But you didn’t. You stood there, silent, watching as they tore me apart.
I don’t know what’s worse: the cruelty of James and Sirius or your silence. You were the one I thought might see me as more than a target. You were the one I thought might understand.
But you didn’t. And that hurt most of all.
-Severus
Remus closed his eyes, his face pale. “He’s right,” he said softly. “I didn’t do enough. I didn’t stop them.” “You didn’t start it either,” Sirius said defensively. “Does that matter?” Remus snapped, guilt heavy in his voice.
Peter,
I don’t have much to say to you. You followed James and Sirius like a shadow, never thinking for yourself, never questioning what you were doing.
You laughed when they laughed, threw hexes when they did, and stood by when they humiliated me. You didn’t even have the courage to make me your enemy on your own. You simply did as you were told.
I almost feel sorry for you, Peter. You were nothing more than a puppet, desperately clinging to people who didn’t truly care about you. But that doesn’t absolve you. You were part of it, just like the rest of them.
-Severus
Peter shifted uncomfortably as he read, his face flushing. “I didn’t mean to—” “No one means to,” Remus interrupted coldly. The room was silent as the Marauders sat with their letters, the weight of Severus’ words hanging heavily in the air. “We have to find him,” James said, standing abruptly. Sirius hesitated. “And if we’re too late?” James glared at him. “Then we’ll live with the consequences. But I’m not giving up on him.”
They found Severus in the Astronomy Tower, sitting on the ledge, staring at the night sky. The faint glow of the moon outlined his silhouette, and for a moment, none of them dared to speak. It was James who broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Severus.” Severus didn’t turn, but his shoulders tensed at the sound of James’ voice. “Come to gloat one last time?” he asked bitterly. “No,” James said, stepping closer. “We came to stop you.” Severus finally turned, his dark eyes hollow and filled with a quiet resignation. “Why? So you can drag me back just to humiliate me tomorrow? Or perhaps you need me alive to keep being your favorite punching bag.” James flinched, but he held Severus’ gaze. “We read your letters,” he said. “And... I can’t tell you how sorry I am. For everything.” Severus let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry. That’s rich. After all these years, you think a simple apology will fix this?” Sirius stepped forward then, his usual bravado gone. “It won’t. We know it won’t. But we don’t want to lose you, Severus. Not like this.” Severus’s eyes narrowed. “And why would that matter to you? All I’ve ever been to you is a source of entertainment.” Sirius looked away, his jaw tight. “Because we were wrong. About everything. About you.” Remus, who had been standing quietly at the back, finally spoke. His voice was steady but tinged with guilt. “We failed you, Severus. I failed you. I should have stood up to them. I should have been better.” Severus stared at him, searching for any hint of mockery, but there was none. Just raw, unfiltered regret. “Why now?” Severus asked after a long pause. His voice cracked, betraying the exhaustion he had been carrying for years. “Why, after everything, do you suddenly care?”
James took a step closer, his eyes earnest. “Because we didn’t see you, Severus. We saw what we wanted to see—a rival, a Slytherin, someone to knock down to make ourselves feel bigger. But reading your letters... I realized how blind we’ve been. You’re more than we ever gave you credit for. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re not here anymore.”
For the first time, Severus looked unsure. The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for so long wavered, leaving only the ache of betrayal and loneliness. “You can’t take back what you’ve done,” he whispered. “No,” Sirius said quietly. “But we can try to make up for it. If you’ll let us.” Severus turned away, staring out at the horizon. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: anger, sadness, doubt. Could he trust them? Could he allow himself to believe they were sincere? “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Severus said finally, his voice barely audible. James nodded. “That’s fair. But we’re not asking for forgiveness—not yet. We’re asking for a chance to do better.”
Severus didn’t leave the Astronomy Tower that night, but he allowed the Marauders to stay. They sat together in an uneasy silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. For the first time, Severus wasn’t their enemy. He was just... Severus.
In the days that followed, the atmosphere at Hogwarts shifted. The Marauders stopped their pranks, their laughter quieter, their confidence dimmed by guilt. Word of Severus’ letters spread, and whispers filled the hallways. Students who had once joined in the mockery now avoided his gaze, shame written on their faces.
James made a point to greet Severus in the corridors, his tone polite, his demeanor sincere. At first, Severus ignored him, but over time, the anger in his eyes softened. Sirius, though less direct, went out of his way to avoid confrontations, his guilt rendering him uncharacteristically subdued. Remus was the most consistent, offering quiet acts of kindness: a shared textbook in class, a soft-spoken “thank you” when Severus brewed a flawless potion. And while Severus didn’t respond immediately, he noticed.
One evening, weeks after the letters had been delivered, Severus found himself in the library. He was engrossed in a particularly dense potions text when James approached, hesitating at the edge of the table.
“Do you mind if I sit?” James asked, his tone careful. Severus glanced up, his expression guarded. After a moment, he nodded. They sat in silence for a while, James fidgeting nervously. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not going to pretend we can be friends overnight,” he said. “But I want you to know that I see you now, Severus. Not as someone to fight against, but as someone worth respecting.” Severus didn’t reply immediately. But when he finally looked at James, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that might have been hope.
Healing wasn’t instant, and forgiveness wasn’t easy. Severus carried the scars of their torment, and the Marauders carried the weight of their guilt. But small steps turned into larger ones. A nod in the hallway. A shared potion experiment. A conversation that didn’t end in insults. For the first time in years, Severus began to feel something he thought he’d lost forever: the faint stirrings of belonging.