It was early October at Hogwarts, and the autumn weather caused the castle hallways to bite any passerby with a chill. Late at night Snape walked the dark, candle lit corridors on patrol looking for stragglers. The castle was mostly silent, and the halls were filled only with the sound of Snape’s heels hitting the floor. The day had been dreadfully boring, and this night's patrol was faring the same fate. Rounding a corner in the West Wing he spots something against the far wall. Excitement rises in his chest with the idea of filling the dull night with reprimanding a student. Snape increased the speed of his stride as he watched the mass make its way slowly along the wall. As he came up to it, he slowed his pace again, realizing it was you.
“Professor?” Snape questions, only slightly disappointed. You startle for a moment at the break of silence. You shoot a wild look in Snape’s direction before recognizing him.
“Snape! I’m glad to see you,” You push yourself off from the wall that you were hugging to stand awfully close to Snape. “It seems that I’ve gotten myself lost.”
“Lost?” He looks down his nose at you, and does not look amused. Though you had been working at Hogwarts for not much more than a month, it should have been plenty of time to become acquainted with the castle’s layout. Even first years know how to make their way around by this time.
“Yes, I’m not sure what part of the castle I’m currently in.” You laugh, glancing down the hallway. “I don’t recognize anything.” In your close proximity he notices a strong smell coming off you.
“Are you drunk?” Snape questions, scowling at you, and taking a step back.
“Ha! Yes.” You say, turning back and smiling up at him.
There is a beat where Snape stares unbelieving at you. Irritation rising with each passing second. Sighing, Snape begins to instruct you on how to make it back to your room from where you are, but stops as your smile drops. You stare blankly at him, and it’s clear that none of the information is sinking in. It is most likely that if he left you alone you would end up wandering the halls for a few more hours, maybe even till morning. A student could see you in your drunken state and you’d be setting a poor example.
Snape rolls his eyes and stifles a groan. “I’ll escort you to your chambers.”
“Really? Oh thank you, I was scared I would be wandering for hours.” And you most likely would have had Snape not stumbled upon you.
Snape begins walking down the corridors and you return to the walls, balancing yourself as you walk. “What were you doing wandering the halls while inebriated?” Snape asks, not bothering to look back at you as he spoke. “What if a student were to see you?”
“I was in the Astronomy tower.” Snape pauses to look back at you. Drinking in the astronomy tower wasn’t the safest thing someone could do, and you were a considerable distance from the tower. You must have wandered extremely far. “I go there sometimes to have a drink and admire the view. It’s beautiful up there, you can see so far. Guess I just drank a little too much tonight.” You laugh again. Snape briefly considers himself lucky that you appeared to be a happy, carefree drunk. He uncomfortably imagines for a moment running across you while angry, yelling, or emotionally distraught. How much more difficult this whole venture could be. He didn’t have the energy to fight a fully grown drunken man back down to his chambers.
The two of you continued down the halls of Hogwarts in silence. The only sound being that of your footfalls. That was until the pair of you reached a stairwell. Snape began to descend before realizing that he could no longer hear your footsteps. He turned around and looked up to you. You were standing at the top of the stairs looking down seeming troubled.
“Why have you stopped?”
“I can barely make it up and down these steps sober, I don’t even want to attempt going down them drunk, even with the hand rail.”
This time Snape did audibly groan as he rescinded the stairs to stand beside you. Without meeting your eyes he offered his arm to you. Quickly taking hold you continue your descent down the stairs. After making it to the bottom you didn’t let go of Snape’s arm. In your drunken state you used Snape’s body to steady yourself. He cast his eyes down to look at you, shooting you a confused look. One that you couldn’t see, for your eyes were cast downwards towards the ground. A look of concentration on your face, your sight fixated on the ground as if it were to sprout roots meant to trip you at any moment. Both your hands were wrapped around his arm, hands that were strangely stained with dried ink. Suggesting that you had been working quite hard on something earlier in the day, or perhaps you had just stupidly spilled a jar while writing. Snape didn’t quite know you well enough to accurately guess the right answer.
A short period of time passes before Snape comments “Don’t cling to me like that, I’ll trip.” At that point you silently let go of his forearm and return to the wall. Running your hand along the cold tiles to keep yourself steady.
It isn’t long from there that the two of you make it to the door of your classroom. “Oh! I have something for you. Come in for just a moment.” You pull Snape into your classroom by his robes. Addressing the back wall with a password, a door appears and you pull it open to drag him into your chambers. Leading him to the middle of the main room before letting go. You turn your back to him and begin rummaging loudly through cabinets and drawers. Snape wonders to himself why you hadn’t just come into your dorms yourself, and asked Snape to wait out in the classroom. Perhaps you thought if you didn’t keep an eye on him he would slip away, and he supposed he would have.
Snape takes the moment to soak in the state of your room. He had been invited here a few times for tea, but he had refused every offer. It wasn’t like he disliked you, but he wasn’t particularly interested in making small talk with you either. The room was medium sized, a sofa and a coffee table sat on top of a light green rug in front of a small fireplace on the far side of the room. Against the left corner was a neatly made bed with too many pillows and a large headboard. A few empty vials littered a bedside table, along with a couple of full ones that had a dark purple liquid in them. Snape recognized the potion inside as Sleeping Draught. Your chambers were relatively clean which made the desk placed up against the right wall covered in papers stick out like a sore thumb. There was no puddle of ink to explain the stains on your hands, but from a quick glance Snape could see that the paper was full of scratches and hastily written words. Snape didn’t find himself to be a particularly nosy man, but he was slightly intrigued with what you were working on so thoroughly. He strode over to the desk quietly, and leaned slightly forward to more easily read what was written.
On closer inspection Snape could tell that the papers that were strewn about the top of the desk were letters. The one placed on the top was addressed to Albus. The majority of the letter was scratched out, or the writing was so poor it was illegible. Skimming the letter Snape read: “I’m sorry that I can no longer fulfill my duties at work-” the sentence that followed couldn’t be deciphered. “I hope that no students are negatively affected by my actions of-” a large scratched out section followed.
As he read on, it dawned on Snape that what he was reading was a resignation notice. Which surprised him, you had only started working at Hogwarts this past year, but you seemed to be doing a relatively good job. Students from multiple years spoke quite highly of you. From what Snape had heard you were a kind and forgiving professor. Albeit terrifying when you reached the end of your rope and snapped at children.
“Ah ha!” You stated with triumph, holding a small jar slightly above your head and to the side. Your exclamation made Snape snap his attention back to you, afraid you’d reprimand him for snooping. You didn’t appear to care, or at the very least were too drunk to realize he was reading your letters. You turn to face Snape and shove the jar into his hands. Looking down, Snape read the faded label printed on the jar. Powdered Graphorn horn, a relatively rare and expensive substance.
Looking back up from the jar, Snape watches as you clamber onto your bed with your shoes still on. You tuck your feet underneath you, sitting on your knees, and pat the space next to you. Snape hesitates for a second before joining next to you on the bed. Though with his feet still on the ground and much closer towards the edge.
“It was given to me as a gift a long time ago. I hold onto hoping that I can find a use for it, but with each passing year it just collects more dust. From what I hear you’re quite the potions master. I figured it would do best with you.” You explain gesturing towards the jar clutched in Snape's hand, your gaze wandering around the room as you spoke. You seemed more and more out of it with each passing moment.
“Well, I,” He pauses for a moment considering what to say. “Appreciate the thought. This isn’t very easy to come by.“ Snape wasn’t one to turn down potion ingredients. Especially ones he didn’t get to use very often.
You smile at him then flop over laying in your bed. Snape watches you for a second, wondering if he should now take his leave. He decides to question you before heading out.
“Are you planning on resigning?”
“What-? Oh, no, sorry to disappoint, sometimes I get overly dramatic.” You glance towards Snape for a second without sitting up before turning back towards the wall. You lift your arm up and jab your thumb towards your desk. “There’s all sorts of letters in that pile, I’m sure if you looked hard enough you’d find something addressed to you. I’ll work here until the day I die.”
Snape pauses for a moment, mulling your words over in his head. “It’s not a disappointment.” He looks at the jar in his hands. “The students seemed to like you well enough, it just surprised me. I believe they would be disappointed if you left.”
“That’s an awfully kind sentiment.” You say giggling a little.
A silence laps between the two of you again, and this time Snape decides he should step out. Not sure if you had passed out yet or not, he stands from your bed and silently makes his way towards the door. After pulling it open, he stands in the doorway before turning his head to the side and saying “Thank you for the gift. You should at least take your shoes off before you sleep. Good night.” You hum a response, and Snape closes the door quietly as he leaves.
A few days later you make your way down to the dungeons after the last class of the day. As the last few students filed out of the potions classroom you brushed past them to enter. A couple of students excitedly greeted you on their way out. “I wanted to thank you for the other night. I don’t remember a whole lot, but I do remember you making sure I made it back to my dorms safely.” You say to Snape as you smile and wave, watching the students leave. You leaned on the frame of the door, and looked back at Snape. He wasn’t looking at you, instead he walked around the room collecting papers off of students’ desks.
“Better I escort you back than a student discovering you wandering the halls in a drunken state. It would be best if you assured you don’t drink as much as you did the other night. Least you inconvenience me again.” Snape spoke as he finished collecting the last of the papers. He sat down at his desk, picked up a quill, and began marking the work the students from his previous class had left for him.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Snape hummed in response, not once looking in your direction. After a minute he felt your eyes still upon him, and he looked up to meet your gaze. You gave him a lopsided smile as you cocked your head to the side and pounded your fist lightly on the door frame. “Join me in my chambers for tea?” You ask. This was the fifth time you had an extended invitation sense you had started working at Hogwarts. Snape marveled for a moment, wondering how you could still ask so excitedly after being rejected so many times.
“How about,” He put his quill down, placing his hands atop of each other, a blank expression on his face. “I join you for a drink in the astronomy tower?” Despite Snape’s wording, it didn’t feel like a question. His tone made it feel like a statement, like he expected you to lack the ability to say no.
Your smile grew larger. “Yeah,” You lean back, still holding onto the door frame. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Then began a regular routine.
After the last class of the day, during meal times, or occasionally passing each other in the hallways you would invite the potions professor for a drink later that night. Snape would first come to your chambers before walking with you to the astronomy tower. Some days the two of you sit in silence for hours and watch the stars above and the forest down below. Some days, when you drank more than usual, you would ramble on for hours, and Snape would listen. On occasion Snape would tell you about what kind of potion he was working on for class or otherwise. You seemed very well attuned to whatever Snape was in the mood for. Leaving comfortable silences in between casual, easily flowing conversations. Never pushing him to talk more than he’d like to. The two of you would talk about the students, and joke about the houses. Snape found you had a similar preference towards Slytherins, finding that they often got a ‘bad rap’. More than once Snape brought along a drink he favored to share with you, and you reveled in the idea of him sharing private parts of himself others didn’t often see.
Snape noticed one night that on occasion, after a lapse of silence, or after staring off into the stars for too long, you would ask peculiar questions.
One night, in November, you pulled your robes closer towards your body. The tower had been cold for a few weeks now, but you still weren’t used to the chilly weather. The height of the tower didn’t help its warmth. In the twilight you could see the remnants of Halloween being pushed out of the courtyard and being replaced by a christmassy atmosphere. As decorations of pumpkins were being swapped out for holly and poinsettias.
After Snape had finished a long rant about his most recent concoction (He was working on using the Graphorn horn you had given him), you turned to him and asked “Can you overdose on potions?”
The question took Snape by surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, potions that are meant to help you, like Wiggenweld or Sleeping Draught.” You begin gesturing with your hands in the air as you spoke, the more you drank the more animated your conversations became. “If you drank too much of it could it possibly kill you?” You answer nonchalantly. It appeared as if it weren’t an extremely heavy question to you. Yet it could be considered mildly concerning.
“Too much of anything is a bad thing, but to overdose on a potion like Wiggenweld you’d have to drink quarts of the stuff. Why?”
“Just curious, there are certain questions I never asked my potions professor when I was still in school. Sometimes I get nervous taking two of the same potion back to back.” Your answer made sense, and the conversation naturally moved on. Snape couldn’t bring himself to worry about it any further.
On another night in early December, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, leaning on the railing in the tower, looking off in the distance. The courtyard and forest down below were now coated in a thin layer of snow. You had become accustomed to the cold weather at this point, but the Ogden’s Firewhisky you had been frequenting recently certainly wasn’t hurting. The castle was full of an excited buzz for the upcoming holidays. Snape didn’t appear to be very keen on the giddy attitudes coming from the students, and seemed more irritated as of late. The two of you were spending many more nights in quiet contemplation rather than rich conversation. Tonight, though he did not do it often, Snape held a cigarette in his long thin fingers. When students were particularly grading on his nerves he had a tendency to smoke.
Snape took a long drag, and blew out through his nose. Taking a sip from your drink, you sighed, your breath mimicking the smoke coming from Snape’s cigarette. Looking down at the Forbidden Forest you asked without turning towards Snape “Are there truly dangerous creatures in the forest?”
Snape looked to you from the corner of his eye, watching you observe the forest below. “Yes, if you're not careful.”
“I’ve heard there are werewolves and giant spiders. Has a student- has anyone ever been seriously hurt in there?” You ask never taking your eyes off of the tree line, a concerned look passing across your face.
“I do believe it’s called theForbidden Forest for a reason.”
You hum in response, look away from the trees and down to your drink. “That makes sense.” A silence falls between the two of you once more and the night continues on.
A week later the pair of you meet and make the climb up the astronomy tower, discussing the school's festivities. Snape becoming increasingly annoyed with the joyfulness of the year. You found it humorous how scrooge like he became during the holidays. When reaching the top of the stairs you make a beeline for the railing and look over.
“Ha, I’ve been noticing that the Willow has been more excited lately, look.” You turn back to Snape while pointing down at the tree. When Snape came to stand by your side and look down onto the grounds below he could see the Whomping Willow shaking vigorously.
“Has the Willow ever killed anyone?” You ask abruptly, still intensely watching the tree.
“Other than small birds, no.” Snape pauses before asking. “Why do you ask so many questions about death?”
“Oh do I? I didn’t even notice.” When you look at Snape you realize that he is no longer looking at the Willow, and is giving you a confused look. “I'm sorry, I’ll try not to do it so much.” You shake your head and smile awkwardly.
“It’s not an issue. I was simply… curious. As I am assuming you are. Being new to the school I’m sure you’re interested in its history, and that curiosity is simply forming as macabre questions.” Snape reassures you. In response you give him a more genuine smile, feeling much more comfortable around him. The pair of you spend the rest of the evening observing the Willow, and theorizing the reason for its unusual state.
It was February, shortly after valentines. The castle walls are adorned with love hearts and pink, red, and white ribbons. Students were still busy focusing on being romantically involved with one another. You kept finding love notes and candy wrappers shoved into desks after classes. The romantic holidays were quickly becoming an inconvenience to you, and you were beginning to understand Snape’s unabashed hatred and irritation towards this time of year.
You had broken up more couples from one another then you could count. On this particular night, a few hours before meeting with Snape, you had discovered two seventh years snogging each other in a dark hallway. The boy, a Gryffindor, had one of his hands shoved up his partner’s, a Hufflepuff, skirt. They both reddened and separated from each other as soon as they realized they had been caught. You chastised them, took away a few points for being out after curfew, then shooed them off.
Though it was slightly traumatizing to catch two of your students borderline shagging each other, there was something slightly comedic about it. When you met up with Snape later that night you couldn’t help telling him about what happened, snickering though the entire story. That’s when you realized that Snape had a surprising ear for gossip amongst the children. Most likely due to his silent, paranoid nature.
“Well have you heard?” You ask, still giggling lightly, leaning forward on your elbows.
“About what?” Snape asked. The more time the two of you spent together the more comfortable with your presence he became. Though he was often still curt and sarcastic with you, it was clear that he was teasing most of the time. A whisper of a smile ghosted his face which hinted at his enjoyment.
“The rumor on us?” You continue, smirking slightly.
A confused look twitched across his face and replaced the smile. “No?”
“Seems a few students have seen me stopping by your office after class, or us speaking to each other during meals. They’ve been passing around the idea that were involved.” Snape gave you an indecipherable look.
“Don’t look so upset or else you might hurt my feelings!” You laugh, but a panic crosses through your chest. The fear of making Snape uncomfortable, or disgusted fills your mind. Though he had never shown any hint of it, homophobia was always an option. You worry for a split second that telling him about the rumor would cause him to stop coming to the tower with you. You admittedly wish that the students were onto something, but they were only picking up what you were putting down for Snape; which was ironic because he himself couldn’t see the signs. Your feelings for him making the idea of him being homophobic that much more terrifying.
“It’s not quite that- I’m surprised I haven’t heard this.”
“I think the students become hyper aware of their surroundings when spreading rumors about you. You seriously scare the shit out of most of them. Mine on the other hand are much too comfortable around me. The only reason I know about it is because a student outright asked me. In the middle of class! ‘Why do you meet with Snape after classes so often?’ Chatter exploded after that, they were all talking at once. I couldn’t pick up half of what they were saying. I swear I heard one ask if we were shagging!” You couldn’t stop the flood of words coming out of your mouth. You could feel your face heating up the longer you went on, but you tried your best to play it off as casual.
Snape explodes in laughter, and you’re taken aback for a second before joining him. After Snape manages to collect himself he asks. “What did you tell them?”
Becoming more confident you deadpanned. “I told them we were.”
“What?!”
“I’m joking, Snape, I’m joking!” You put your hands up in defense beginning to laugh again. “I just told them that I’m abysmal at potions and you’ve been helping me.” A silence passes for just a second, and the panic returns ten fold.
Snape chuckles lightly, and looks out towards the courtyard. You had expected the conversation to quickly move on after that, but you didn’t expect what Snape said next. “You’re a professor, not a student. After all this time, you can call me Severus.” And you were glad he wasn’t looking at you, because you knew that the redness on your face could be seen easily, even in the low light of the tower. Maybe he truly did enjoy your company.
“Has a student ever committed suicide?” You had been uncharacteristically quiet this night. Staring off into space, drifting off, not noticing when Severus attempted to strike a conversation, or conversations falling short. A rare instance of Severus being in the mood to chat, but not being met halfway.
Severus paused, a funny feeling had settled into the base of his stomach when you had asked the question. “We’ve had a handful of attempts, but none have been successful. Are you worried about a particular student?” He had had issues with students in the past. Slytherins being his responsibility, there would come times when he had discovered that a certain student was doing less than alright. There was a possibility that a student opened up to you, you seemed popular amongst the students and Severus wouldn’t be surprised if a student decided to entrust you with their problems. There was also the possibility that you were just picking up the signs from a student.
“No I just- It seems so easy with our magical abilities. With secondary school being some of the toughest time developmentally, I thought maybe.” You trailed off slightly. Your answer did not quell Severus’s worries, and the idea that you were just asking to ask made him feel uneasy.
“... Do you think about that often?” Severus was devoting his whole attention to you, turning to face you. You glanced towards him before grimacing a small bit, stuffing your hands into your robe’s pockets, and leaning back slightly.
“It’s a passing thought, I want to be prepared if something does happen.” Severus was able to tell through your body language that you didn’t want to take this conversation much further. You had wanted a simple yes or no answer, and if the answer was yes you might have asked a few more questions; but with the ‘no’ you were content on leaving the conversation there. Severus decided not to push it, and the two of you contemplated in silence before parting ways half an hour later.
There were a few other peculiar, eyebrow raising questions and conversations here and there. Ones about the ghosts (Moaning Myrtle and the Bloody Baron specifically), past professors, and dangerous potions, but none were as alarming as the suicide question.
One night the two of you hadn’t agreed to meet in the tower, but Severus found himself yearning to see you. He’d hate to admit it, but he thoroughly enjoyed the time you spent together. It was a nice break from the incessant whining of children during the week. Though the spring months were well in swing, the nights were still cold, and Severus wanted to avoid the chill of the dungeons for once. It had always been you who had initiated the meet up, but he decided on swallowing his pride, and ask you himself if you were up for it tonight. He may even be willing to just drink tea with you in your chambers.
Pulling his robes closer together Severus made his way towards your classroom. The corridors were deserted. With the N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s quickly approaching every student was hidden away studying, there was no time to sneak out after curfew. Stepping inside your empty classroom, Severus approached a spot in the back and uttered the password to the wall, causing a door to appear. He knocked on the chamber door, but was met with silence. When checking the nob he found the door unlocked, and chose to let himself in. This had happened a few times, but in those instances he had already been invited, and you were expecting him. You had assured him that he could let himself in whenever he pleased, that if you ever didn’t want someone in your room you’d lock the door.
Stepping into your room Severus found it barren, he called out, but once again he was left unanswered. It occurred to him that you could have gone up to the astronomy tower by yourself. He wondered a few times if you did that, chose to go alone rather than invite him. Despite the fact that the two of you could comfortably sit in silence.
Severus turned on his heel to leave when your overflowing desk caught his attention for the second time. He stood for a moment, too far from the desk to read the contents of the papers set on top, contemplating whether or not to indulge himself in your business. Your words from that first night echoed in his brain, 'If you look hard enough I’m sure you’d find one addressed to you.’ At the time you didn’t appear angry that he had read the letter, curiosity overcame him and Severus strode over to stand behind the chair pushed in underneath the desk. Looming over the papers he noticed the top letter was once again addressed to Albus, and the contents were relatively the same. Still full of scratches and scribbles, half of the text being indecipherable.
Slowly Severus shuffled through the letters. First taking the haphazard pile and sticking the parchment into a straight stack before leafing through them. Only reading who they were addressed to before flipping to the next page. Amongst the pile were letters addressed to Minerva, Hagrid, a name of specific student Severus recognized as a sixth year, and a general letter of “To whom it may concern” that Severus filed in the back of his brain for later just in case. Severus halted when coming across a letter addressed to himself. There were still many pages he hadn’t gone through, but those were of no concern to him.
Pulling the letter from the stack, Severus placed the rest of the papers down. Scrawled at the left corner top of the page was simply the name “Severus”, no ‘dear’ just his name and the second line went straight into the meat of the letter. “I’m sorry.” He was slightly taken aback, Severus wasn’t sure what he expected when he started reading. Perhaps he thought the letter addressed to him would be extremely similar to the one meant for Albus. What he wasn’t expecting was what was written. He reread the first line, not liking the weird feeling it made swoop in his stomach. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth (I’m sure not much) I enjoyed the time we spent together. Every night we drank in the astronomy tower was-” the words were lopsided and Severus couldn’t make out what they were supposed to say. He read on.“- I wanted to let you know that-” A good portion of the letter after that was scratched out. The last bit Severus was able to read was: “With my death I hope-” With that final line everything clicked. None of these messages were resignation letters, they were suicide notes. Severus’s vision swam, and he placed his hand on the desk to steady himself.
With a sudden rush he realized he had no clue where you were, and could only guess. Shoving the letter into his pocket he quickly makes his way to the door, wrenching it open, and speeding down the halls. Severus traveled as fast as he could to the astronomy tower. With every step his worry grew. He felt angry with you, with himself. At you for not asking for help, at himself for not noticing the signs earlier. He felt as if now it was glaringly obvious. Your conversations were being shown in an entirely new light.
Another part of your conversation from that first night crosses his mind. ‘I’ll work here until the day I die.’
‘Idiot,’ He chastised himself. ‘Fucking idiot of course that’s what he meant.’
Severus arrived at the base of the astronomy tower and felt like he was all too late. As he ascended the stairs his head was flooded with a multitude of scenarios. Severus imagined you swinging from the ceiling, and imagined being the one who had to take you down. He imagined not finding you there only to look over the railing of the tower to see your body sprawled out on the ground below. He imagined finding you surrounded by potion vials, ones you had brewed yourself for this occasion, completely unresponsive. He wanted to vomit.
Severus tore the door open and spotted you immediately, standing behind the railing leaning slightly forward on it looking down. Without taking a moment to think he ran up to you, his robes billowing behind him, gripped your wrist, and tore you away from the edge.
You whip around and wordlessly stare into his eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. There’s a moment of silence as Severus breaths heavily. Both exhausted from running and panic. Your wrist is held in his hand, out to the side, his height making your hand hover slightly above your head; as if Severus was a parent reprimanding their child for acting out. “Sev-?“ You start but are quickly cut off.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The question comes out harsh and sharp. You had never seen Severus look so angry, or at least never had that anger directed towards you. It was more than slightly terrifying, you suddenly understood why so many of your students were uneasy around him.
“I was just enjoying the view- I- I’m sorry I thought- I didn’t know you wanted to meet tonight.” You try to add a light tone to your answer, but slight panic is setting in as you try to piece together where this anger had suddenly sprouted from. You tug very slightly at the hand holding you in place, only to find Severus’s grip unwavering.
“‘Just enjoying the view’? Then what, pray tell, is this?!” With the hand not holding you he pulls the letter from his robes, showing it to you. Severus tugs your wrist as he speaks, pulling you closer towards him. You violently wince and hiss through your teeth involuntarily. Severus instantly lets go, something curling in the base of his stomach as he watches you quickly pull your arm back and hold it to your chest. Only then, as cold air hits his hand, does Severus realize that his hand is slick, crimson red with blood.
Your eyes never fall from the page in Severus's hand, even as you cradle your arm. “Where did you-? Have you been going through my things?” You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry.
Severus doesn’t answer as he stares down at his hand, a new emotion flitting across his face. One that reads as angry, confused, and scared all simultaneously.
Looking up from his hand his gaze fixates on the arm you have clutched to your chest. “What did you do?” Severus asks, blatantly ignoring your question, anger dominating his face once more.
“This isn’t what it looks- I’m not- this wasn’t an attempt.” You say desperately, shaking your head, and taking a step backwards. Releasing your clearly wounded wrist to put your hands up in defense. Your dark robes hid any hint of bleeding, besides a slightly darker, damp spot on the cusp. The hand you used to hold your arm was now also slightly smeared with blood.
“Then what was it?” Severus takes a step forward, leaning toward you slightly. His words still felt harsh and aggressive, but there was a clear sense of caring in the meaning of them.
“It’s the opposite.” You begin to explain as calmly as you can, voice wavering slightly. “A halfway point, a way to tide myself over. It was either this,” You gesture towards your arm. “Or that.” You gesture towards the letter then to the ledge.
“Then why write the letters if you aren’t going to go through with it?” He says through clenched teeth. A frustration beginning to edge on Severus's questions. His bloodied hand is held open in a claw, while his other hand is clenched in a fit around the letter addressed to him.
“It’s just an outlet or- or just for in case.”
“In case what?!” Severus yells, throwing his arms out in emphasis. Clearly furious, taking another step towards you. “In case you get the courage to throw yourself from the tower?!”
“Yes! Okay?!” You explode, beginning to shake uncontrollably. “Yes, it’s for if I make it all the way up the stairs, finally stop being such a goddamn coward, and finally kill myself! So that I don’t leave everyone in confusion, so that there’s some kind of explanation. Even if you have to piece it together at least I won’t leave everyone to wonder what the hell happened!”
Unable to keep yourself together anymore, a sob erupts from your throat. You bury your face in your hands, and sink to the floor. Severus’s anger quickly fades away, becoming increasingly uncomfortable and worried. Being concerned about you, while not knowing what to do to comfort you while you cry. Putting the letter back into his robes, Severus runs the hand not covered in your blood down his face as he deeply breathes, trying to calm himself. He chooses to crouch in front of you and reach out to place a hand on your shoulder. You immediately tense and flinch away from his touch, a barely audible whimper escaping from you. Severus takes the hint and backs off, leaning back and placing his hands in his lap. He stares at his lap, only glancing up occasionally to check on you, allowing you to cry without forcing you to feel watched.
Your cries were scarily quiet, the only clues to your tears being the occasional strangled sound coming from your throat, brief quiet, almost silent sniffs, or the shake of your shoulders. Severus lets you cry in peace, only supporting you with his physical presence, knowing he was there if you needed him. This went on for several minutes, up until he watched from the corner of his eyes as you dug your nails into the skin of your face attempting to further stifle your cries.
“Stop.” Severus said quietly, gently placing his hands on your wrists, now aware of the wounds that were there, and pulled your hands away from your face. “Please, stop.” You still shied away from his touch, shoulders tensed, face turned slightly to the side, eyes closed, leaning as far away from him as you could. You tugged slightly, trying to free yourself from Severus’s grasp. Opening your eyes when you were unable to break free, seeing the worry etched on Severus’s face made your breath hitch. You let yourself fall forward onto Severus. He let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around you. You bunched your fists in the front of his robes, holding on as tight as you could. Severus places one hand on the back of your head, quietly assuring you with an amalgamation of ‘It’s okay’s and ‘I’ve got you’s. Whether they were empty promises or not didn’t matter, the words calmed you all the same.
An indiscernible amount of time passes before you calm down and lean back, holding yourself up with shaking arms. You wipe your face with the sleeve of your robes, the one not caked in your blood. You mutter out an apology without making eye contact. Wordlessly Severus stands, and holds out his hand for you. You take it and he pulls you upward, only to not let go after helping you stand. He begins to swiftly pull you towards the door, and you don’t ask questions. You briefly register that you are being led to the dungeons, but you’re so emotionally drained that everything is passing in a blur.
Severus only lets go of your hand when the two of you enter the potions classroom, and you immediately miss the warmth. He stands by a wall and whispers a password to the tiles there, revealing the entrance to his chambers. He ushers you inside of his room, and you quickly abide. Stepping inside his private chambers you subconsciously take note of the state of your surroundings.
Every inch of the walls were lined with shelves. On one side of the room the shelves were full of jars, potions, and plants. You assumed these were potions of his own creation, or ingredients for personal projects. On the other end of the room the shelves had many books. Some old and used, others crisp and new. The only portion of the room that didn't contain shelves held a fireplace, with a couch and coffee table much like your own. A large oak table sat in the middle of the main room, on top was a cauldron with a potion simmering quietly inside. Though cluttered, it was clear everything had a place. The entire room was well organized, and comparatively your room must look like a pigsty.
Severus motions for you to take a seat at the table, then begins to rummage through potion vials lined up on the back wall. He finds what he’s looking for almost immediately, his room most definitely more organized than your personal quarters. Severus disappears briefly into a room further off into his quarters only to show back up with what appeared to be a first aid kit clenched in his fist. His hands now clean of your blood from grabbing you earlier.
Severus sits across from you, potion vial in hand, and reaches for your arm. Your first instinct is to pull away, to hide your shame, but you’re weak and tired; and Severus already knew what you had done. You allow Severus to pull the sleeve of your robe upwards. The blood having glued the cloth to your skin, the fabric reluctantly tore away from your skin with a sick ripping sound. As the cuts were re-exposed they began to bleed again for the second time tonight. Severus mutters something under his breath, and wandlessly casts a spell removing any dried blood from your robes and palm. Severus reached for the vile and generously poured the purple potion over your wounds. The blood cleared, but the skin didn’t magically seal itself back together. You realize that Severus used a wound cleaning potion rather than a healing one. A sick wave of relief passed through you, knowing you got to keep your wounds. You assumed this was due to your dilemma you posed earlier in the tower. Choosing between cutting and ending your life.
“Did you,” Severus began, speaking to you for the first time since you were in the tower. He pauses as he carefully considers his words. “Did you do this the first night I found you?”
“I- yes I did.” You kept your eyes fixated on your arm as Severus worked. “But it was before I made my way up to the tower. Same as tonight.” You see out of your peripheral vision as Severus nods to your comment. The two of you fall quiet once more.
Severus pauses after cleaning your cuts, taking a moment to notice the other scars that littered your wrist. The varying degree in thickness, length, and pinkness showing age. Before he got too caught up in the lines you had carved into your skin, he forced himself to begin wrapping your arm in the bandages.
“Do you use magic to hurt yourself?” Severus asks, breaking the tense silence.
“No.” You answer truthfully, watching Severus’s handy work. He was surprisingly good at dressing wounds, and you briefly wondered why.
“Then you have blades hidden in your chambers?” Unlike his earlier questions in the tower, this one came out softer, but the accusation was strong.
“...It seems I've painted myself into a corner.” You laugh wryly.
“It seems so.” Severus’s voice sounds tense, and the strained silence returns to the room. You’re once again filled with a weird panicked feeling with idea of Severus intruding your living space to take one of your only comforts away.
Severus sighs, completing bandaging your cuts. “I won’t take anything from you,” A second wave of relief washes through you. “Just do me the courtesy of dressing your wounds, lest you bleed through your robes again.” Even though Severus had finished helping wrap the lacerations on your arms; he still held onto your arm fast. One hand held your own, while the other was placed atop of the bandages.
“They weren’t bleeding before you agitated them. I rarely bleed through my clothes when I do this. I tend to wash the blood away and-” Looking up from your arm you falter. Though Severus’s hair curtains his face as he looks downward, you can make out a pained expression etched into his features. Realizing the weight of your words you quickly finish. “And they're fine.” You had planned on elaborating further, but the weight of hearing how mad you must sound sat heavy on your mind. Seconds felt like minutes as Severus holds his position and doesn't say anything, but the look on his face softens.
Severus looked up from your arm for the first time since he started the cleaning process. Your eyes met, and something in that deep black gaze lit a spark inside you. You surged forward to push your lips against Severus’s. He pulls back so quickly that it lasts for mere milliseconds. The knee jerk reaction had you sitting up straight again, and staring into Severus’s face.
“I’m sorry I don’t know what I was-.“ Before you could vomit more words out Severus cuts you off.
“No, no, it’s fine.” As soon as the word fine exits his mouth you’re filled with a weird sense of dread. You can’t tell if Severus is saying it’s fine because he believes you’re still sensitive from the breakdown earlier. If he’s worried that if he rejects you that you’ll leave from the dungeons to make your way up the tower steps for the second time, this time not making your way back down. You avoid eye contact by staring down at your hands, one of which Severus still had clenched in his own. Your face was hot and red, and a dizzying feeling of regret for the entire night lingered in the back of your brain.
Severus must have been able to see the wheels turning in your head, the worry clearly etched on your face, because he calls out your name pulling your attention back to him. “Stay here, allow me to watch you, at least for tonight. If not to keep yourself safe, then to subdue my worries.”
Intrusively, the idea that Severus didn’t care entered your mind. That if you denied his request he would allow you to leave, and feel relief that he didn’t have to watch over you like some overgrown toddler. That he didn’t want to fight about it, and if you did leave here and go back up to the tower, or drink copious amounts of potion, or hang yourself, or cut deeper after making it back to your chambers, that Severus didn’t want to be blamed for your death. That he didn’t actually care for your safety. That before he had blatantly ignored all of the signs of your suffering, and now that the evidence was glaringly obvious he couldn’t turn a blind eye. That this entire process is just for in case you do die, he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing he could have possibly stopped you somehow.
You nod once, trying to keep any feeling from appearing on your face. In that moment Severus stood, still holding your hand he forces you to stand with him. He pulled you forward suddenly, swiftly across the room, and the surprising yank conjured up an involuntary ‘Whoa!’ as you stumbled over your own feet. The two of you toppled over each other before you landed in Severus’s arms, upright in his bed. You feel as Severus pulls you into a tight embrace and reclines backwards to lay down. You’re in your day clothes, with your shoes still on, and it’s ridiculous; but you can’t bring yourself to pull away to become more appropriately dressed for sleep. Your hands are on his chest, and he’s cradling you in a calming manner.
Severus let go with one hand, digging in his robes to retrieve his wand. He casts a spell and the lights dim greatly. He places his wand on a side table before allowing his arm to join the other on your back once again. There’s a long pause of silence, and you’re not any closer to falling asleep; but all the while enjoying Severus’s company. You then feel him press his face to the top of your head in a silent kiss. Taking a calming breath, the smell of parchment, potions, and the distant aroma of smoke fills your senses. It’s weirdly comforting in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. The idea that his smell is comforting because it’s him passes through your mind. You push the thought away, desperately trying not to embarrass yourself further.
You feel hot in the face and slightly nervous. The lack of light in the room gives you a surge of confidence. “I admit that when I first started inviting you for tea it was only because I found you attractive, but after you walked me back to my chambers that first night it’s like I fell face first into my feelings for you.” You feel the confession bubble out of you before you could stop it.
“Really?” There’s a self-deprecating, doubtful tone to Severus’s reply. You yearned to shower him with all the ways you found him attractive. About how he made you feel comfortable, safe, and the evenings you spent in the towers with him were the highlight of your week. Every. Damn. Time. But you knew all too well what he was feeling, and how a showering of compliments would only result in spiraling thoughts and an uncomfortable atmosphere. You were also sure that a spurt of compliments from you directly after you had just told Severus how you felt about him would be more than a little peculiar.
“I- You- I really like you Severus.” Is what you decide to go with, stumbling through your words.
“... I thoroughly enjoy your company. I would be sorely disappointed if anything were to happen to you.” It’s as close of a confession Severus can muster up. Though your heart had been forcibly put on display all night, Severus couldn’t bring himself to be equally as vulnerable.
You lift your head from his chest, leaning on your forearms. Despite the potion used on your arm earlier, your cuts still burned lightly as you put pressure on them. You ignored the irritation in favor of completing what you started. In the low light you can only make out the vague outline of Severus’s face. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his lips. You still feel like it’s a leap, despite the conversation that just unfolded. Severus sighs through his nose and moves a hand from your back to the back of your neck. Carding his fingers through your hair he pushes forward and deepens the kiss before leaning back and pulling you into a tight embrace. Severus takes a deep breath and you can feel an anxiety radiating off him, as if he were afraid that if he let go you’d never come back.
You’re feeling warm and comfortable when Severus asks a question that must have been weighing heavily on his mind for the past few hours. “Why did you never share it? All those nights drinking in the tower you never let it slip once.” He didn’t need to specify what he meant.
“I didn’t find it important.” You answer immediately. You could try and explain yourself more. Yet the short statement revealed more than what was on the surface. You didn’t find that you were important enough to stress over. So many things left unsaid, but still hinted at. You silently hoped Severus didn’t expect you to follow up on your comment. You could continue the conversation on a later date when you aren’t so emotionally raw.
Severus hums quietly, and the rumble in his chest it causes soothes you in a very particular way. He doesn't push you any further for the night, and you’re extremely grateful. Involuntarily you nuzzle your face into the side of Severus’s chest, wrapping your arms around his middle. The potions master ran his fingers through your hair gently, and you started to nod off. You fall into a dreamless sleep, clutched to Severus’s chest. Being with him may not fix things, but having someone who knows your secrets could make the journey easier.