Chapter 4
It is almost the end of the first day back after the holidays, and so far he has successfully evaded the feline stealth of one Minerva McGonagall, who he is avoiding like the dragon pox after not responding to her that fateful night.
He is pathetic, he thinks, to be this muddleheaded. To be stunned at the revelation of her identity, yet disgusted at it at the same time.
How could such a witch be his soulmate? She, who was his student, who he had eviscerated time and time again in his classes.
The familiar ache of regret squeezes his ribs as he returns to his office. What would she say if she knew that he is her soulmate? The reprieve is a relief. What would she think, given what she knows of him?
As both he and Minerva are confined to Hogwarts, she has little chance of finding out. Unless Minerva contacts her, which she will not do—at least not yet. The days have passed in a trance, he cannot help but wish for the walls of indifference he once used to pull himself together.
But he is no longer the bitter, broken man who loved a dead woman and wished for his death at every waking moment. He is alive. Alive and alright, perhaps even content.
Recalling Minerva’s pride in the achievements of her favourite witch, he finds himself relieved that so is she.
Sometimes, in fleeting thoughts on the darkest nights, he had feared that his soulmate had died in the battles. That she had been a child, avada’d in her cradle, or a fellow death eater, reflecting his own villainy.
Would she think him a villain if she spoke to him now?
Pushing open the door to his office, he freezes at the sight of the witch he had been so studiously avoiding sitting behind his desk. She leans back in his chair when she spots him, with an expression that he could only attribute to a cat that got the cream. Except a cat would not be twirling her wand in her hands, subtly threatening the Head of Slytherin and all of Hogwarts itself.
Schooling his expression, he opens his mouth to retaliate— but of course, she greets him first.
“Hello, Mr. Snape.”
Well, that takes him back to being a firstie, when she was his feared Transfiguration professor.
“Minerva,” he answers. He does not sit, instead making his way to the table where the alcohol is. He’s going to need it; and he only has to wait out the minutes until the witch in his office makes her intentions known— even if she already had, in an impressively Slytherin way— but there’s no reason for her to know that he knows that. “Your usual?”
“Is that all you have to say to me, young man?” she scolds, abandoning her perch and rounding his desk as he turns to face her. “It has been quite a few years since you’ve turned tail after seeing me in the halls.”
“It has been a busy day back—”
“Oh, bollocks.”
Severus clenches his fists. “Must the subtlety always be lost on you?” he growls, stepping forward until she is close enough to see his anguish. “Do you not comprehend the magnitude of what you’ve seen? She carries the same marks as I do— she is my soulmate— mine! ”
“And what of it? You have not been her Professor for a long time, Severus…”
“That is the least of it!” He falls into the visitor’s chair, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. “I was a Death Eater, a true follower of the Dark Lord. I have killed and tortured, and she deserves more than the spite and pettiness that I have to offer her! I may not announce it, but even I know that she is an exceptional witch, and with how close she is to Potter, the son of my worst enemy—”
“And your dearest friend,” Minerva interrupts, sitting in the chair across from him. “It is precisely because of who you are that she is yours, Severus— not just a Death Eater, but a spy for the Light— a most powerful wielder of magic, just like her. Have you forgotten that you also buried your head in books for most of your life, as so few of her contemporaries do?”
He sighs, shaken from his outburst, and she takes his silence in stride as she continues.
“I know you, and I know her. No one else, after all this time— no two people could be more suitable.”
“Minerva, I am not worthy—” he pleads.
“Are you saying that she is not worthy of you, dear man?” She tuts.
“A witch like that— She deserves— I do not know much of her anymore, but after everything she’s done—”
“Indeed, after everything you’ve done, magic has made you for each other.” She grasps both of his hands in hers, a small smile curling in the corner of her lips. “Write to her, Severus, as I did you. Let her decide for herself, as you know she would want to.”