A life rewritten.

Hadrian stepped over the threshold into the grand, quiet space of Severus Snape’s manor, his senses immediately flooded with the layered scents of polished wood, old parchment, and a hint of something herbaceous—perhaps potions ingredients stored somewhere nearby. Beside him, Severus Snape, his dark robes blending seamlessly with the shadowed interior, closed the heavy door and gave Hadrian a brief, appraising look. His tall, lean frame was imposing against the rich darkness of the entry hall, his expression guarded yet somehow softer here than in other settings. It was as if the manor itself provided him with a sense of peace he rarely displayed elsewhere. “Welcome,” Severus said, his voice a smooth, low rumble that matched the atmosphere of the house. “This is where you’ll be staying, and I expect you to respect it as is your own.” At the far end of the dining room, directly behind the head of the table, stood a grand fireplace that seemed to command the entire room. Framed by an intricately carved stone mantel, the fireplace was massive, it's dark stonework contrasting against the polished wood and tapestries surrounding it. The mantel was adorned with twisting vines and delicate, each line and curve meticulously crafted to appear both natural and deliberate. Within the hearth, logs crackled and glowed warmly, casting a flickering orange light that danced across the room, adding an almost hypnotic rhythm to the quiet, grand atmosphere. Shadows from the flames played over the table, causing the carvings on the high-backed chairs to seem alive, their patterns shifting as if moving to some silent music. Above the mantel hung a large mirror in a dark, ornately carved frame, reflecting the room’s soft glow and creating an illusion of even more space. The mirror’s frame was carved to match the intricate design of the chandelier and chairs, with curling vines and delicate feathers entwined around its edges, giving it a sense of continuity with the rest of the room. The fireplace gave the room an added layer of warmth and presence, grounding the space with its steady light and soft crackling, inviting anyone who sat here to linger, perhaps even to find comfort within the dining room’s imposing elegance. It was more than a simple fixture—it was a focal point, lending a feeling of ancient, steady warmth to the room, as if it had watched over countless meals and quiet gatherings, keeping its secrets and memories in its timeless glow. High-backed chairs, each with elegantly carved arms and slender legs, surrounded the table. The backs of each chair were adorned with intricate carvings of vines and leaves, almost as though the wood itself had grown naturally into these shapes. Hadrian ran his fingers lightly over one of the chairs, feeling the smoothness of the carving, the craftsmanship evident in every tiny detail. The chairs, though imposing, held a certain grace that balanced their stately presence. Above, a wrought-iron chandelier hung suspended from the high ceiling, its metal twisted into graceful, looping spirals, giving the impression of dark, curling vines frozen mid-dance. From each curl dangled candle-shaped lights, casting a warm, golden glow that softened the shadows and brought the entire room into a cozy, almost magical light. The flickering illumination created shadows that played gently over the polished wood and stone, giving the room a feeling of timelessness and mystery. Severus’s gaze traveled the room, his tone almost reverent as he continued. “The dining room, as you can see, serves as both a place for meals and gatherings,” he said, though a subtle undertone in his voice suggested such gatherings were rare, perhaps even nonexistent. His voice seemed to blend into the room, faintly echoing off the stone walls, which were adorned with tapestries that hinted at warmth despite their dark colors. The tapestries themselves were works of art, woven with muted but rich hues—deep greens, burgundies, and blues—that added a sense of depth to the space. Each one depicted scenes of nature intertwined with fantastical creatures and ancient symbols, as if to remind those dining here of the mysterious world beyond. Intricately detailed, the woven images appeared alive in the warm glow, their textures casting shadows that made it seem as if they were watching quietly, ever-present yet patient. Severus’s voice interrupted Hadrian’s thoughts. “Meals will be taken here when we’re not in the kitchen,” he added, his tone calm but precise, suggesting a balance of formality and practicality in this grand space. Hadrian could almost imagine quiet meals here, with the flickering candlelight and the soft murmur of voices blending into the solemn, embracing atmosphere of the room. It was a room that demanded respect, yet held a quiet sort of intimacy beneath its grandeur. Severus led Hadrian out of the dining room, his footsteps echoing softly down the long corridor. The manor felt both imposing and strangely alive, as if it held secrets within its walls, secrets that observed and absorbed all who passed through. Severus walked with a quiet authority, his presence fitting seamlessly into the house’s stately atmosphere. “This is the parlor,” Severus said, pausing at an open door to their right. Hadrian stepped inside, finding himself in an intimate room filled with plush chairs and a deep leather sofa arranged around a low, glass-topped coffee table. Shelves lined the walls, filled with well-worn books and peculiar artifacts. The gothic-style lamps cast a warm, muted light, making the room feel cozy despite its dark decor. Severus’s gaze swept the room. “You may use this room to read or for any personal time,” he said, his tone indicating that he allowed little idle time but that the room was available for quiet reflection. They moved on to the living room, a larger space filled with a more formal arrangement of seating around an expansive stone fireplace. Above the mantel hung a large, elaborate mirror, its dark wood frame intricately carved with twisting vines and feathers. Tall windows lined one wall, overlooking the sprawling gardens outside, while tapestries adorned the opposite wall, each depicting scenes of ancient forests and mythical creatures. Severus said little about the room, only gesturing briefly around as if it spoke for itself. Next, Severus led him down a smaller hallway, opening the doors to a room Hadrian hadn’t noticed earlier. As they entered, Hadrian’s eyes widened in awe. The room was a vast library, lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books of every size and age. The scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air, creating an atmosphere that was both reverent and enchanting. Dark wooden ladders on rails were attached to the higher shelves, and there was a small seating area in the middle of the room with overstuffed leather armchairs, a few side tables, and a small fireplace that cast a gentle glow over the space. “This is the library,” Severus said, his tone softened just slightly as he looked over the collection with what almost seemed to be pride. “Here, you will find books on nearly any topic you may need. Potions, herbology, history, magical theory... Use it wisely, and ask if there’s something specific you’re searching for.” Hadrian’s fingers itched to reach out and touch the spines of the books that lined the walls, and he nodded eagerly, realizing that this room alone held more knowledge than he’d ever had access to before. Severus’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he continued the tour. They moved through a set of glass-paned doors to the gardens outside. The grounds stretched far, a blend of formal, sculpted hedges and wildflower beds, with ancient statues wrapped in ivy and moss. Stone paths wound between the garden beds, leading to secluded nooks where wrought-iron benches waited, tucked into the greenery. A small fountain gurgled in the distance, its soft sound adding to the garden’s serene atmosphere. “These are the gardens,” Severus said, his voice softer, as if he too felt a sense of peace in this space. “Explore them if you like, but mind the path—certain plants here are used for potions, and not all are friendly to the unwary.” After a long look at the gardens, they returned to the manor, making their way up the grand staircase. Severus led Hadrian down a long corridor lined with dark wood paneling and amber-lit sconces. Each door they passed seemed to hold a different world within, but Severus made no motion toward them until they reached the end of the hallway. “This will be your room,” he said, opening the door with a slight nod for Hadrian to step inside. Hadrian entered, taking in the sight with a mixture of surprise and awe. The room was spacious yet cozy, with a tall, wrought-iron bed draped in dark green linens that matched the muted tones of the tapestries on the walls. A stone fireplace on one side cast a warm glow, illuminating a small desk and a wardrobe set against the opposite wall. The high, arched windows were framed with heavy curtains in a deep emerald, giving the room a sense of quiet seclusion. “Before dinner, I expect you to shower and prepare yourself,” Severus instructed, his tone calm but firm. “You’ll find the bathroom through that door.” He gestured toward a smaller door on the side of the room. “Once you’re ready, meet me back in the dining room.” Hadrian hesitated, glancing at his worn clothes. “I, uh… I don’t have anything else to wear,” he admitted, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment. Severus gave a brief nod, as if anticipating the question. “Some of the clothes we ordered from Madame Malkin have already arrived,” he said, indicating the wardrobe. “You’ll find them inside. Use whatever you need.” Hadrian nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “Thank you, Professor.” Severus inclined his head slightly, his gaze steady. “Dinner will be served soon,” he said, turning toward the door. “Do not keep me waiting.” With that, he exited, leaving Hadrian alone in the quiet, welcoming space. As the door closed softly behind him, Hadrian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He crossed the room to the wardrobe, opening it to find several neatly folded garments in his size, fresh and soft to the touch—a world apart from what he was used to. With a new sense of gratitude and curiosity about this life unfolding before him, he selected a set of robes and made his way to the bathroom. The anticipation of dinner with Severus filled his mind as he prepared, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he began to feel as if he were part of a place that offered comfort, mystery, and perhaps even a sense of belonging. Hadrian pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside, only to pause and take in the room’s unexpected grandeur. The bathroom was spacious and elegant, far more luxurious than anything he had ever known. Against one wall stood a large, ebony clawfoot tub, its deep, dark body gleaming under the soft glow of the sconces. The silver claws that held the tub aloft were intricately crafted, each resembling the coiled body of a serpent, heads curving up toward the rim with jaws slightly open, as if poised to guard the bath. The snake’s scales were detailed and caught the light, giving them an eerily lifelike presence that added a mysterious charm to the room. Beside the tub, a standing shower with a glass enclosure sat off to the side, with black marble tiles lining the walls and a rainfall showerhead overhead. The space felt like something out of a storybook—darkly elegant, sophisticated, and entirely Snape. At the far end of the room, double sinks sat beneath a large mirror with an ornate, gothic frame. The countertops around the sinks were smooth and polished, adorned with an array of bottles and jars. Curious, Hadrian approached, eyes lighting up as he saw the neatly arranged collection of soaps, washes, and bubble mixtures. There were small, dark-glass bottles with labels written in careful script, as well as more ornate jars with scents he could already imagine: lavender, eucalyptus, sandalwood, and some unfamiliar, musky notes that seemed entirely fitting for the manor’s atmosphere. I’ll have to try that tub later, Hadrian thought, a flicker of excitement running through him at the thought of sinking into warm, scented water and letting the day’s events melt away. But now was not the time; he knew Severus was expecting him soon, and he didn’t want to make him wait. Resolving to keep it quick, he moved to the shower and turned on the water, adjusting it until it was just right. The warmth of the water and the luxurious scents of the soap were both strange and comforting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a relaxing shower—one where he wasn’t rushed or worried about using too much. Here, in this grand bathroom, he felt an odd sense of freedom, as if he was finally allowed to indulge in a bit of comfort. When he was done, Hadrian stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel that had been set out for him—a thick, soft towel draped neatly over a small stool by the sink. He froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He was certain the towel hadn’t been there when he’d come in. Had someone—Severus?—come in while he was in the shower? The thought made him uneasy, and he cast a quick, nervous glance around the bathroom, as if expecting someone to be lingering nearby. But the room was empty and quiet, just as he had left it. He swallowed, feeling a mix of vulnerability and discomfort. Still, there was something oddly reassuring about the neatly arranged towel, as though someone had thought to make sure he was comfortable. Shaking off his unease, he dried off quickly and reached for the clothes he’d brought in from the wardrobe. The fabric felt smooth and perfectly fitted, settling on him with a snug warmth that helped ease his nerves. Taking a final glance at the room, he steeled himself to head downstairs, telling himself that he was safe here—even if everything was new and strange.For now, he was ready to face Severus in the dining room, feeling more at ease and, perhaps, just a bit more at home. Hadrian descended the grand staircase and made his way to the dining room, the polished wood floors cool beneath his feet. As he entered, he saw Severus seated at the head of the long mahogany table, waiting with his usual composed, unreadable expression. Hadrian hesitated for a moment before taking a seat across from him, glancing around the room’s flickering candlelit glow before gathering his courage to ask, “Professor… were you in the bathroom earlier? There was a towel waiting for me, and I don’t remember seeing it when I went in.” Severus looked at him, raising a single brow. “No, Hadrian,” he replied evenly. “I did not place a towel there. It was likely the work of my house elf, Sable.” “House elf?” Hadrian repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one of those.” Severus gave a slight nod, as though expecting the question. “House elves are magical creatures that serve wizarding families, tending to various household needs. They are bound to their homes and masters, carrying out tasks that are typically kept unseen.” As he spoke, Severus raised a hand, and with a soft pop, a small, slender figure appeared in the doorway. The house elf named Sable stepped forward, bowing deeply to both of them. He had large, round eyes and long, delicate fingers, and he wore a neat, simple garment that matched the gothic elegance of the manor. Sable straightened, his eyes keen and polite as he looked at Hadrian. “Good evening, Master Hadrian,” he said with a slight bow. “I am Sable, Professor Snape’s house elf. I placed the towel for you, sir, as well as any other items you may need during your stay.” “Thank you, Sable,” Hadrian said, a bit taken aback by the elf’s formality and poise. “It was… very thoughtful.” Sable inclined his head with a gentle smile, then turned to Severus. “Dinner is ready, sir,” he announced, his voice quiet but confident. “Excellent,” Severus replied, gesturing to Hadrian to settle into his seat. “Then we are ready to eat.” With a wave of his hand, Sable snapped his fingers, and the food appeared magically on their plates. Hadrian’s eyes widened as he took in the spread before them—a generous serving of roasted meat, golden-brown potatoes, carrots glazed with herbs, and thick slices of garlic bread, fragrant with butter and parsley. Alongside his plate, a tall goblet of a strange orange drink shimmered in the candlelight. “Thank you, Sable,” Severus said with a nod, and Sable disappeared with a soft pop, leaving them to their meal. Hadrian took a tentative sip of the orange drink and found it to be unexpectedly sweet, tasting of mild spices and a faint earthiness. “Is this… pumpkin?” he asked, glancing up at Severus. “Yes, it’s a common drink in the wizarding world,” Severus replied, taking a sip from his own goblet. “You’ll find it at every Hogwarts meal.” Hadrian nodded, taking another sip as he began eating. The roast was perfectly cooked, tender and rich, while the potatoes and carrots were roasted to perfection, each bite full of warmth and flavor. The garlic bread was crisp on the outside and buttery within, a comforting contrast to the savory meal. The meal continued in silence, broken only by the soft clink of silverware, yet the room seemed to hold a warmth Hadrian had never experienced before. Each bite was rich and flavorful—the roast tender and savory, the potatoes and carrots cooked to golden perfection, the garlic bread buttery and crisp. It was unlike any meal he’d ever had, and a quiet sense of wonder washed over him as he savored each bite. This place, with its grand walls, flickering candlelight, and silent, attentive house elf, felt like something out of a dream. A good dream. But that was the part that made him nervous. Nothing good had ever happened to him before without a price, without something lurking underneath that he hadn’t seen coming. So he ate slowly, tasting the warmth and richness of the food but feeling a guarded sense of trepidation. What’s the catch? he wondered, casting a cautious glance across the table at Severus, who ate with calm composure, as if he were unaware of the weight Hadrian carried. Even though Severus had rescued him from the Dursleys, Hadrian couldn’t shake the idea that any moment, this new world might crumble, exposing something harsh or demanding in return. The memory of the Dursleys’ house was still too fresh, a reminder of what life had been—nothing good came without strings. But here he was, safe, warm, and treated with care. Was it really that simple? He took a sip of the strange pumpkin drink, and found himself wanting to believe. This magical place, this mysterious man seated across from him, and the delicious food on his plate—it felt almost like a fairytale. Yet he couldn’t fully relax, couldn’t let himself believe it was all real, not when everything good in his life had always come with a hidden cost. As he took another bite, trying to quiet his doubts, he stole another glance at Severus. For now, he would tread carefully, enjoy this piece of the magical world he’d only just begun to discover, and try to convince himself that perhaps, just perhaps, he really could be safe here. Dinner wound down quietly, the comforting warmth of the food settling as Hadrian finished the last bites on his plate. Severus sat across from him, his expression thoughtful and calm, and the silence between them felt easy, though Hadrian’s mind still buzzed with questions he hadn’t dared to voice. Severus set down his fork and looked at Hadrian with that same penetrating gaze. “It’s been a long day,” he began, his voice measured. “You should get-”But as he spoke, the flames in the fireplace flared a vivid green, casting an eerie glow around the room. Both Hadrian and Severus turned toward the hearth, and a thick envelope flew out of the flames, landing directly in front of Severus. He picked it up, his expression instantly shifting to something guarded and serious as he opened it. As he read, a slight furrow appeared between his brows, and his face went still. A tense silence lingered for a moment as Severus held the letter in his hand. Under his breath, Hadrian barely heard him murmur, “I thought I had more time.” Hadrian’s curiosity sparked, his eyes lingering on the letter with a quiet wonder about who it could be from and what it meant. But instinct told him not to ask, and he simply nodded when Severus set the letter aside and looked back at him. “It’s late,” Severus said, his tone as composed as ever. “You should head to bed. We’ll continue our discussion in the morning.” Hadrian rose from his seat, giving Severus a small, polite nod. “Goodnight, Professor. I’ll… see you in the morning.” Severus nodded, his gaze lingering on Hadrian with a hint of something unreadable. “Goodnight, Hadrian.” Turning, Hadrian made his way up the staircase, his footsteps quiet in the manor’s hushed corridors. As he entered his room, he couldn’t shake the feeling of mystery surrounding the letter, nor could he fully dismiss his underlying sense of caution. His eyes drifted to the door as he closed it, and a wave of his earlier apprehension returned. He locked the door, then pulled a chair over and wedged it beneath the doorknob—a small precaution, but one that gave him a sense of control and security in the unfamiliar space. Satisfied. As he climbed into bed, his body relaxing in an unfamiliar way, drawing the blankets up around him as he let his mind drift. The warmth and quiet serenity of the room felt strange but comforting, a mixture of safety and uncertainty. As his eyes closed, he told himself that, perhaps tomorrow, things would begin to make more sense. And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep. Severus’s plan for the next day had taken a significant turn since receiving the letter. The weight of what lay ahead solidified his decision: Hadrian could not attend Hogwarts—not yet. The boy needed far more than a standard education or the chaos of being thrust into the wizarding world unprepared. He required careful guidance, a shield against the dangers Severus knew would soon emerge. The letter had only confirmed his fears: time was not on their side, and there was much work to be done. With his course of action clear, Severus called for his house-elf, Sable. A quiet pop announced the creature’s arrival. Bowing slightly, Sable addressed him in a steady tone, “Sir.” “Fetch me a quill and ink,” Severus instructed. With another pop, Sable vanished, reappearing moments later with the requested items. Severus took the quill and ink from him without a word. He placed the items carefully on its smooth surface, alongside the letter he had received earlier. Drawing his wand from his robes, Severus aimed it at the original parchment and muttered, “Geminio” A soft glow enveloped the parchment as a perfect duplicate appeared beside it. Satisfied, he set the original aside, ensuring it remained untouched, and positioned the duplicate in front of him. Dipping the quill into the inkpot, Severus began to craft his message on the copied parchment with deliberate strokes. The rhythmic scratching of the quill filled the otherwise silent room, the sound steady and purposeful. Each word carried weight, the sharp lines of his script reflecting the seriousness of the task at hand. When the letter was complete, he folded and sealed it before handing it to Sable. “Deliver this,” he commanded. “Ensure you are not seen. Wait until he is alone before you reveal yourself. Once you’ve delivered it, return here and prepare one of the guest rooms.” Sable gave a low bow. “As you wish, sir,” he said before vanishing with another quiet pop. Left alone once more, Severus sat back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on the letter’s original parchment. The task ahead was immense, but there was no room for hesitation. The boy’s safety depended on it.