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Chapter Text

September, 2000.

Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived-then-died-then-lived-again, was a magnet for trouble. It was an irrevocable and undeniable truth that where Harry went, trouble had a way of finding him. Fortunately, it was also true that he almost always had company during the michief filled missions bestowed upon him.

And so, how could he resist temptation when he learned something was strictly forbidden?

This time around, he was the only one to blame, because he did enter this bout of mad exploration of limits and rules of his own free will, and that would drive him insane for the rest of his working days.

It all went something like this.

Hermione, Ron and him had just gotten new, shiny, brilliant jobs at the Ministry of Magic. To no one’s surprise, Hermione had gone back to finish her seventh year at school, and now had the choice between multiple professions, but in the end her righteous nature chose for her. She was now Undersecretary of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, as she was the only one with a potential future vision for the mutual relationships between the wizarding world and said creatures – mainly House elves. Representing them and fighting for their rights had been in her line of sight since fourth year, and there was no stopping her now.

Ron and Harry had both become Aurors. It wasn’t in their interest yet to rise to the top of the pecking order, even if they could, as war heroes. They wanted the organic experience of slowly gaining favour within the department, and it was preferable that way. Tonks was now there to boss them around, much to their dismay, as she had a penchant for teasing them mercilessly at every turn about minor mistakes. Or, at least, what they thought were minor mistakes.

On one such occasion, Tonks literally lead them to it.

„Oh, I wouldn’t go through there if I were you,“

The trio halted, looking periodically from Tonks to the corridor in question, and back again. It seemed like a perfectly normal place, if a little eerie. Located in the Auror department, somewhere on the very outskirts, it had the faintest feel of being untouched for a long period of time. The carpeted floor, though clean enough, had a thin layer of dust; the candelabra hanging from the wall on their left, the only one lighting the space, had cobwebs woven on and around it.. Ron let out a disgruntled sound at the sight of a quite large, black spider on the ceiling above them.

„Why not?“ Harry said, brows furrowed in confusion.

Tonks smiled, „That, my friends, is the infamous Forbidden Corridor,“

„The what?“

„Hermione?“

„What? Honestly, I don’t know absolutely everything, Ronald, and I certainly haven’t heard of a Forbiddent Corridor!“

Their bickering was interrupted by Tonks’ thoroughly amused chuckle, „Ah, newbies. Never gets old,“

„There are many things I would attribute to your…unique character, Nymphadora, but being a sadist was certainly not one of them,“ a deep, sarcastic voice drawled, startling them all.

The four of them spun around, wands drawn – but it was only a portrait. However, it wasn’t just any old portrait. It was –

„Professor Snape!“

„Oh, right, I forgot you were here,“Tonks mumbled. Her hair morphed from the usual bubblegum pink to an angry red colour, „For the last time, if I hear that name from your mouth again I might just incinerate you,“

„Oh dear, however shall I cope?“

Harry couldn’t help but snort at that. Even as a painting, he was still the same, old –

„Something amusing, Potter? The fact that you didn’t finish your seventh year should also be quite amusing to you, considering how little attention you even paid to it – tell me, how well will the Wizarding world fare with its fate in your half-educated hands?“

 – slimy git. That’s it. He was still the same dungeon bat, as always. Harry didn’t take much offense to the jab, however. Instead, his attention was pulled back to the dingy corridor. It struck him that Snape’s portrait was the only one in sight.

„What are you doing here, Professor? I mean, this is apparently not a place people pass often,“

„Percisely – nobody to disturb the peace, and after that many years of teaching dim-witted brats…,“ he sneered at them, „it is quite enjoyable,“

„Well then, sorry to disturb your self-prescribed isolation, Professor – but, as their boss –„

„Not our boss, Tonks,“

„That’s what you think, Golden boy!“ Tonks’ hair began changin colours rapidly, making her excitement known,“Anyway, as their boss, I have the responsibility of showing them where to go and where not to go.“ She sniffed, looking very close to sneezing.

„By all means, waste your breath on the latter – Potter and his little friends could never obey even the simplest of rules at Hogwarts. By the looks of it, not much has changed,“ Snape said, his dark gaze narrowing at the trio.

 Ron scowled at the Professor, while Hermione coughed nervously into her hand. Harry resisted the urge to protest the statement – however true it might have been. Instead, his eyes rested on a rather interesting wallpaper pattern. An uncomfortable twinge of guilt pressed against his ribs just then.

„Not to worry, they’ve had their fill of trouble – haven’t they?“ Tonks’ eyes narrowed, giving them a pointed look. The three nodded vehemently in agreement.

„Brilliant! Now, then – the Forbidden Corridor is not to be entered for any reason, ever. Before you ask, it is highly likely that if you choose not to listen to my humble senior advice, you might just find yourself in many unlucky situations during the year – you have been warned!“

Hermione scoffed, „Honestly, Tonks, I didn’t take you for the superstitious type,“

Tonks frowned, „This is serious, Hermione. If any of you so much as step foot in here, it’ll be bad luck for you and your departments. Forewarned is forearmed, isn’t that right Professor?“

Snape rolled his eyes. „Unfortunately,“

…

Harry and Ron did not, in fact, listen to Tonks. That same afternoon, they went back to the Forbidden Corridor. Snape wasn’t there to see, his portrait void of the moody teacher, so they passed without incident.

Later, they would blame Hermione for convincing them it was all rubbish, just like Divination was, and that such things as bad luck and omens didn’t exist, even in the magical world. She was very rarely wrong, after all. How could they have known?

„This place is disgusting,“ Ron said, wincing at the dirt on his hands from touching the ods and ends they found there.

At first glance, it was ordinary – though it had a smaller number of rooms compared to other hallways in the Auror department. There were a total of two conference rooms, one decrepit training area with thoroughly worn out props and a tiny storage, stuffed to the brim with broken brooms, empty cleaning fluid containers and, strangely, potion vials. Every table, chair and surface in each room was dusty, the floors were unusualy grimy for being unused for so long, and spiders had taken over the decorating aspect of it all. Harry and Ron had to cast a Lumos, too, since there were no candles in sight other than the lone one at the beginning, near Snape’s portrait.

Snape hadn’t left Harry’s thoughts the entire day. Every time he had a free moment from work, his mind would inevitably drift to the portrait of his former teacher, and for some reason it filled him with unease. Harry had done all in his power to clear the Professor’s name, only sharing the necessary parts of his contributions to the War, and worked hard to convince anyone left who doubted Snape’s loyalty to the Light that he did, in fact, do good. Now, after all of that, it felt wrong to put his portrait in some dusty old corridor no one was allowed to go through. Did Snape request it himself? Though he was known for being a solitary man, it was unlikely he asked for it specificaly. He was surprised to realise that even if Snape did want his peace and quiet, Harry didn’t want him to be left there, never to be seen, his biting sarcasm never heard by anyone in the Ministry. Harry had an idea then. It might slightly anger the professor, but Harry thought it fitting – the man did basically save his life multiple times. He smiled to himself in the dark of the hallway.

„Harry, we should go, it feels…weird in here,“

„If you want. There isn’t much here, anyway. Don’t know what Tonks was on about,“

„You don’t feel that?“

„Feel what?“

„Like…kind of…unfortunate,“

Harry burst out laughing. The mirthful sound echoed down the length of the hall.

„You’ve been spending way too much time watching Muggle horror films with Hermione,“

At the indignant, half offended look his friend shot at him, Harry relented.

„Alright, let’s go then,“

Snape was now back in his portrait. Although it seemed like he was asleep, as Harry and Ron passed by, he opened his eyes and a mischievious smirk curled his lips.

….

„What did you two do?!“

„Nothing!“

„Well, it’s not nothing, considering the fact that neither of you can do anything right today! Honestly, it’s like you suddenly turned into the most unlucky people on Earth!“ Hermione said exasperatedly as he rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her frustration was palpable, and it was no wonder – her office had turned into a right mess. It wasn’t just her, either.

Harry and Ron literally couldn’t do anything. From their morning tea which exploded the moment their hands touched the mug, to a mission (though minor) that went terribly – which was an understatement at best; nothing was going well. Tonks had already dragged them around her office, fuming at the state of disarray in their own and due to their failed assignement, now it was Hermione’s turn.

„We did nothing wrong! We just walked in here, because you called us for tea, and everything just spontaneously combusted or something!“

Hermione sent Ron a vicious glare. Her head snapped to Harry, who stepped forward – only to trip on his own feet in the process.

„Really? It looks to me like you can’t even walk properly, let alone control your magic!“

„I- Well, that’s not my fault!“

„Whose is it, then?“

Silence ensued. In the stillness of the office, only faint crackling of fire from the hearth lingered, and it wasn’t a comforting sound at all , considering the state of Hermione’s singed robes, blackened documents strewn over the floor and ruined furniture. After a moment or two, Ron gasped. He turned to Harry, his eyes filled with fear that looked eerily similar to realisation.

„Harry, the corridor,“

„What corridor?“ Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion.

„The bloody Forbidden one!“

„Oh, shit,“

…

Tonks’ quiet giggles turned to full-blown, hearty laughter.

„I told..hehe…I told you not to go in there, didn’t I?“

„Yeah but, but we thought –„

„Let me guess, you thought Smartest Witch of Her Age over there,“ she gestured to Hermione, who looked vaguely affronted,“was right, and that superstitions are just a silly way to get a person to follow the rules?“

Harry fidgeted with his wand. Ron looked askance.

„Well…Maybe?..“

„Of course you did..“ She sighed, momentarily closed her eyes as if to calm herself (even though the stressed bloody red colour of her hair said otherwise), then proceeded to measure them with her beady eye,“ I assume, then, that you went through the Forbidden Corridor, that is strictly forbidden, by the way, only to come out and find that you actually are terribly unlucky now?“

„Er…yes,“

Tonks let out another sigh, rather accesively dramatic in Harry’s opinion.

„Well, I have no other choice then. I’ll have to let the both of you go,“

Stunned, Harry and Ron found themselves at a loss for words. Tonks’ hair morphed into a dark, inky colour, her eyes narrow and dark as The Black Lake at night.

„What!“ Harry finally snapped, „You can’t just fire us, we –„

„You’ll find that I can, Potter,“ her voice suddenly dropped to a low and icy tone, familiar in its seriousness,“You and Weasley deliberately disobeyed me, therefore the department and its rules themselves. It is truly a miracle, how you always find trouble where there usually is none – how grand it must be, to be the Chosen one…“

Harry gaped at her, and the serious expression on her face bloomed instantly into a wicked smile.

„Harry, is she –„Ron started, tone breathless from shock.

„You traitorous – you both planned this!“

Tonks appearance returned to her normal, jovial self as she howled with laughter.

„HAH – I can’t believe this worked! Merlin, I’ve got to give it to him, as someone who I thought had no sense of humor, this must be one of the best pranks I’ve ever done! He’s brilliant!“ her laughter faded, face turning serious once again,“ Don’t you dare tell him I said that, ’right?“

„But – But how?“

„Come on, Potter, have some faith in my abilites, eh? I did marry a Marauder, after all,“

„She has a point, Harry,“ Hermione said. Harry only now realised she’d been giggling behind them the whole time.

 Ron groaned,„You, too, Mione?“, his head burrowed into his palms, likely to hide his embarrasment. By the redness of his ears, it was still very visible.

„It was only a prank. Besides, you two need to learn that some rules are there for a reason, and that not following them can have dire consequences,“

Harry caught Tonks’ still amused stare,“Bloody hell, he’ll never let me forget this, will he?“

She barked a laugh,“I should hope not! I definitely won’t,“

Harry grumbled under his breath.

…

„What? Where in Merlin’s name did you move me?!“ Snape snarled, his furious gaze snapping from one corner of the room to the other, assessing his surroundings.

Thankfully, by the time Harry returned to his office the day before, he had just the idea of how to repay Snape for that little stunt he and Tonks pulled.

„Into my office, of course,“ Harry happily replied.

Snape obviously didn’t approve of the situation, which gave Harry all the more reason for being smug. His smirk caught the Potion Master’s attention and he sneered at his former student.

„It seems you harbour the belief that you are punishing me, Potter, but believe me when I say you will soon find yourself regretting this moronic decision, and that it will be more so a punishment for you than it is for me,“ he ground out.

Harry sighed. He would never admit this out loud, but he was tired of the back and fourth with the man. He wanted more than anything to just be civil, especially now that he is the only person alive who knows the reasons behind his actions.

„I might regret telling you where I moved your portrait, but I won’t regret actually moving it.“ He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, his eyes meeting Snape’s defiantly.

Snape’s black eyes flashed dangerously. „Really? How very noble of you, forever the sentimental Gryffindor as you always were.“ He leaned forward in his painted seat, „My reluctant advice to you, Potter, is to place Albus’ portrait in my stead, as the two of you have similar traits in that regard,“

„Would you rather I put you in Hermione’s office? She’d never stop asking questions, and we all know how much you despise those,“ Harry countered.

That earned Harry another sneer.

„Look, Professor, I know we never really got along, but I couldn’t let you stay in that dingy corridor. And – „he continued, stopping Snape from insulting him again,“I know you well enough to know that sitting idly in that portrait is not how you’d prefer to spend your time,“

„You know me, do you?“ Snape spat,“Of course it hasn’t crossed your brilliant mind that I actually want to be left alone, in peace! For that matter, Potter, you forget my other portrait is in the Headmistresses office, and that I have adequate enough company without your insistantly arrogant presence in my life!“

That shut Harry up for a second. Yes, he did forget his other portrait wa at Hogwarts, but that doesn’t mean he should be in some forgotten hallway everywhere else.

„I’m still not leaving you to rot in that corridor,“

A few quiet minutes passed. In that time, Harry took to arranging some documents on his desk. It gave him freedom to reflect, but also ask himself: Why did he put Snape’s portrait in his office?

The first thought that came to him, however, was so reminscent of his childhood that it almost stung.

He didn’t like being alone. The office, though full of his things and already comfortable didn’t feel quite safe yet. Since the Battle, it took him a while to realise that being alone turned into something quite unbearable. He didn’t need constant company, but another presence in his vicinity made him calmer. Snape was a convenient enough excuse, but also a person who wouldn’t hesitate to call him out when needed. Though bitter, Snape was reason-oriented, which was the perfect counter for Harry’s ’Gryffiindor recklessness’, as the Professor like to say.

„Why do you persist? What is it that you think you’ll accomplish with this, Potter?“

The answer was so simple, it was staggering.

„Because no one deserves to be forgotten, least of all the spy who turned the tide in the war,“

Snape raised a brow.

„I’m being perfectly serious, sir,“

„I’ll believe that when you stop being a reckless, insufferable Gryffindor,“

Harry huffed out a laugh. „You’re incorrigible,“

„Clearly, I am not the only one,“ Snape grumbled.

….

„That corridor never was Forbidden, was it?“

„Merlin, Potter, are you truly still that dense?“

…

Chapter Text

It really wasn’t her fault.

That was the lone thought floating around in her mind at the moment. Willow was elbow deep in a cauldron, her arms already uncharacteristically sore from attempting to scrub it clean. The grime stuck to the dark bottom with a vengeance. She, however, was just as stubborn, if not more. Her long, golden curls, now wet with sweat at her neck, drove her silently insane. Even in her usual high bun, it fell out in messy clumps and disturbed her focus. Each time one of her nails scratched the side of a cauldron made her wince. The smell of soap was overwhelmingly monotonous, the cold of the Potion’s classroom made her itch for the warmth of her common room, and all of this was not fair in the least. She scrubbed harder.

That strange, angry righteousness flared up again. The force of it burned in her gut so fiercely, she almost had to ask what she was going to turn into. Willow knew herself, and though she was a proud Hufflepuff, she couldn’t say she had much bravery to force her morals to the surface in the presence of other people. In fact, she considered herself a bit of a coward.

This time, she just couldn’t let herself be silent.

This is what it gets you, it seems. A detention. The unfamiliar, bitter thoughts permeated her mind.

„What’s the matter, now?“

Willow jumped. She’d been so preoccupied, so deep into her own little world that she completely forgot about her detention companion. She turned to him with a tight smile.

„Nothing, Severus, just…lost in thought,“

„Is that why you look like you might murder the next person who crosses your path?“ he drawled. Snape himself was scrubbing vehemently, though instead of a cauldron, it was the classroom floor. Though they were not the ones to make the mess, or cause a potion to explode – they were the one’s chosen to clean it up.

Willow’s blood boiled anew at the reminder.

„See, there it is again,“ he grumbled, curiosity seeping subtly into his voice,“I’ve never seen you this angry,“

The remark caught her off guard, and she huffed a nervous laugh. „I’m not angry – I mean, alright, maybe a little,“ she admited as she saw him raise a brow, “It’s just been a very long day and this is the last thing I want to be doing,“

Severus huffed in response. She saw him lean back to sit on his legs, and one pale hand reached up to wipe his forehead. Concern bubbled up in her ribs. He was thinner again, the bone of his wrist sticking out sharply. The last time he was this thin was right after fifth year.

The worry must have shown on her face, because he frowned at her and turned back to his work. Willow sighed softly and began scrubbing again, only to stop once again at hearing his voice.

„You do realise you could’ve avoided this,“ he hissed,“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone,“

The sudden shift in demeanor didn’t surprise her, but the insinuation stung. The cauldron fell from her hands with a loud, echoing CLANG, startling him into looking up at her.

„So, what you’re saying is I should have just let them possibly maim you with a failed brew?“

„No,“ he retorted, stood up and took a step towards her,“I’m saying that you shouldn’t give them reason to target you, and that no matter what you do they will never stop, so don’t bother!“

Willow couldn’t help but gape at him.

See, what had happened earlier that day was not just as simple as out-of-class bullying. By some miracle, Potter made it into NEWT level Potions, due to his wish of becoming an Auror after Hogwarts. Slughorn let him attend, of course, even though he technically didn’t do so well on his OWL. He, Lupin and Lily were the only Gryffindors in the Advanced class, and Merlin only knows how Potter survived this far.

Every class, Slughorn would give them a more difficult potion to brew. Volitile and delicate potions that required patience and focus far beyond the capabilites of the younger years. This time, however, the class ended on a sour note. Willow assumed Potter either got bored or simply wanted to get a laugh out of a sickly-looking Lupin, as he then stupidly decided to throw in an extra ingredient to Severus’ cauldron. The brew reacted almost instantly, as it started to bubble violently and spill out, its acidity so changed that it burned the table beneath. It could have hit Severus, as it prepared to explode, but Willow cast a containment charm just in time. The only harm done was to the floor and furniture. Professor Slughorn, who had his back turned throughout the whole exchange, gave the both of them detentions for being innatentive during the brewing process. He had this disappointed look on his face, while Potter snickered behind him. Willow couldn’t control the words that left her next. She’d insulted Potter, accused him of tampering with the brew, and even though she was in the right, Slughorn had no way of knowing that, and so he took 20 points from Hufflepuff.

It was an understatement to say that Willow was furious after that. It startled her, how easily the anger came, how powerful she felt as it forced her to stand up for her friend. She’d always been under the impression that she’d never have the guts to speak her mind.

Severus turned a little distant at that point. He hadn’t so much as looked at her the rest of the day. Only now, in the solitude of their shared detention could he be an open book.

That single fact only propelled her to be there for him in a greater capacity than before.

„You of all people know I hate confrontation, Severus, but I couldn’t just sit there and watch without saying something!“ She bit back, her tone severe and loud. Willow took a steadying breath and ran a hand through her hair. The lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

„Frankly, I don’t care if they target me, but I do care that they target you, and I will continue to bother. No one, not even you, can stop me,“ she finally said, bright hazel eyes boring into his inky ones.

„I don’t deserve your kindness,“

Her eyes widened. He looked away.

„I didn’t deserve it that day…at the Lake,“ he said thickly, staring at the floor,“And I definitely don’t deserve it now,“

Willow approached him with careful, slow steps. It didn’t take long for her to realise what he was actually doing. This wasn’t about kindness or righteousness. It wasn’t even about her personally.

He wanted to be left alone.

He felt he needed to distance himself from any and all who tried to breach the walls he’d constructed in order to protect himself. Now, after what happened with his only true friend, those walls became impossibly higher and thicker.

Willow could empathize with him, as she also had issues with letting people truly see her. She had friends, but they were all shallow, constructed on the basis of proximity and an effortless way to fulfill social needs. She never told anyone anything too personal, too emotional.

More importantly, she understood what it meant to be forced into certain groups of people, especially if they offered you something you never had – like power, protection, a way to exact revenge on those who harmed you.

It was because of that unique position that she reached out to Severus.

Willow also had a tendency to want to help others – whether it be her creatures, or a person.

She lowered herself to the floor in front of him. His gaze darted back to her, wariness and surprise swimming in its depths.

„Well, I believe everyone deserves a little kindness,“

„You’d be the only one, then,“

She chuckled softly. „That’s fine by me,“

„You’re impossible,“

„So are you. Do you see me leaving?“

Severus’ eyes rolled dramatically. „No, and I still don’t understand why,“

She blinked at him. „Because you’re my friend, Severus,“

The sound of shuffling footsteps interrupted whatever Severus was about to say next. Willow darted to the sink. She heard Severus’ cleaning brush scrape the stone floors once more, as she, too, started to scrub the abandoned cauldron. Slughorn sat at his desk with an approving „Ah, you’re still working. Good, good…“

Willow couldn’t help but smile when she glanced briefly to Severus. The remnants of shock still present in his expression gave her an extra hard time of surpressing a laugh. Scrubbing cauldrons was a breeze after that.

The warmth in her chest lingered well into the next day.

Chapter Text

Hermione Jean Granger, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Department head at the Ministry of Magic and a 30 year old woman, somehow managed to find herself in this very uncomfortable position.

For the second time.

Once again, she had no one but herself to blame. Naturally, she berated herself in the mirror for about an hour. Then, she went to get help.

„Now, Miss Granger, I can understand mistaking a dark long hair for a human girl’s – but do, enlighten me, as to how in Salazar’s name you could mistake a bright orange cat hair…“ Snape sighed, his hand reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“If this is the vigilance and precision with which you take on all your Ministry assignments, only Merlin knows how your department isn’t on the verge of collapse,“

If her cheeks were visible under the fur, they’d be a deep crimson right about now. All it took for her mind to regress back into her twelve-year-old self was a good exasperated reproach from Severus Snape. The embaressment which churned in her gut squashed her ability of conjuring a witty retort so thoroughly, it was mortifying. Over the years, he had become a trusted mentor. A guardian. A friend. With Hermione’s own parents still missing their memories, she’d always felt an intense need for parental guidence, or a substitute of sorts. Harry had slowly grown into a family dynamic with Snape, and with Hermione being like a sister to the Gryffindor, the warm cloak of familial relationships extended to her, much to her initial surprise.

She had grown accustomed to certain liberties in conversation with her former teacher, such as banter. Now she found she had no humour left to give. All she could do was marinate in disappointment and that inceasant flutter of shame. It propelled her back, like a Time-Turner, back to her Second year, when her first Polyjuice mishap occured. Hermione had had to face Snape then too, although with much more trepidation than at present.

Get yourself together! Honestly, you’re a grown woman! She hissed silently.

„I – You see, Ginny needed me to do something in her stead. She’s exhausted from work and taking care of the boys, so I offered to help…“ She fiddled with the hem of her navy shirt.

„So, you had the brilliant idea of Polyjuicing into her, how predictable,“ he drawled.

Hermione watched him stir the potion from his lab’s desk, meticulous and exact in every movement. The all-too-familar smell of herbs filled the air, medicinal yet comforting. Though his lab at home was warmer than the Hogwarts dungeons, it still carried that signature dark essence that was quintessentialy Snape. The thought sent a strange shiver down her spine, as she recalled all the harsh remarks he’d thrown at them all. Some of the shame finally subsided.

He was still the same old Potions Master. However, he did gain some signs of age since then. A good thing, too. It meant he was still alive.

Snape had recovered from his attack in the Shrieking Shack, though not without hardship. It took a while for him to adjust, mentally and physically, but all turned out well in the end. Even now, with greying temples peaking underneath the otherwise jet black, shoulder-length hair and a less pale, hollow appearance, it still made her feel like she was back at Hogwarts. Her hair remained wild and curly, her perfectionism still vehemently present.

At least she wasn’t swimming in her own tears like she had been back then.

„You didn’t answer my question,“

Hermione instantly broke away from her meandering thoughts. She must have wandered off for longer than she thought, for  the cauldron had been moved off the heat and the potion now left to cool. Severus began to clean his station.

She cleared her throat – Merlin and Morgana, was she about to get a hairball? To distract herself, she picked at her elongated nails, eyes fixed on a nearby shelf fully stocked with potions ingredients. Granted, it was a perfectly organized, beautiful dark-wood shelf.

Mentally, she set a reminder to ask him where he got it later.

„Well…I forgot to ask her for a hair, and since she was so busy, I didn’t want to bother her for something I might already have,“ she said flatly,“She left a hairbrush at my flat and I took a hair…Crooks probably got to it before I did,“

Her hands covered her face and muffled a miserable groan. Distantly, she figured it was more a cat-like yowl than a groan.

The Potions master turned to her fully, his eyes crinkled with thinly veiled mirth.

„That mangy beast of yours is still alive, is he? Merlin’s beard…“ Severus said, his tone carrying less bite than normal.

A dry chuckle escaped her. „Yes, but you knew that already,“

„How could I not? The evidence is all over your face,“

Hermione genuinely laughed this time. For someone people though had no sense of humour, the biting sarcasm Severus so frequently employed never failed to lift her spirits – even if the quips were usually at her expense.

He huffed at her amusement.

„All those sleepless nights must be damaging your brain, Granger,“

Severus laddled the now fully settled potion into a vial, then placed it in her partialy feline hand, now resting on her lap.

„Next time, you might injure something less curable than your pride,“ he grumbled, spitting the last word like it cost him something to say it.

Hermione swallowed the digusting concoction in one gulp. While they waited for its effects to take hold, Snape returned the many jars and vials back to their original place. It gave her the moment of peace to pull back the remnants of a smile off her face. Lest he notice.

Some things never change, and Severus Snape’s disdain for vulnerability and showing emotions truly never did.

Harry made him softer around the edges, though. It’s why she had the courage to give him a reassuring pat on her way out, now fully transformed to her normal, human self.

„Don’t fret, Severus, I can take care of myself just fine,“

The man sent her a withering glare. It didn’t have much effect on her at this point.

 „I do not. Fret.“

„If you say so,“

Chapter Text

„What do you think you’re doing?“

Harry jumped from the library floor, a dusty, leather-bound book clutched tightly in his hands.

„I –„

„I don’t want your excuses, and even if there were a valid one I hardly think it couldn’t wait until morning!“ Severus hissed, pitch black eyes flashing with thinly veiled fury.

The Potions Master sneered, as if the next harsh reprimand lay right at the tip of its tongue. Only, he remained quiet, his stare now darting from the thick, worn tome in Harry’s hands to the pajama-clad boy himself.

„Leave the book,“ he snapped and turned away,“Come,“

Harry knew not to argue. There was no point – even though his blood was boiling as he started after Snape. The gutteral, ugly emotion lingered every since the end of Fifth year – although even now it wasn’t directed at the man in front of him.

The thing that drowned out the anger, however, was exhaustion. A terrible numbness, swirling and mingling with icy dread. The dark circles under his eyes attested to the fact that he’d spent the last few hours in the library, reading all he could find on one single topic.

Unfortunately, there was very little to find, and it left him frustrated, tired and most of all – horrified. Fear now coiled around him much like the black sludge of Voldemort’s anger did last year, overbearing and all-consuming.

Horcruxes.

Voldemort had made Horcruxes.

And Harry’s only thought since learning that fact was that he was also one of them.

An accidental Horcrux. A product of Voldemort’s own magic.

Dumbledore, cryptic as ever, refused to confirm or deny the claim. Harry’s anxiously churning gut, paired with the sharp bitterness and anger at the wisened Headmaster, drove him to do things he hadn’t for more than a year.

Ever since Severus became his guardian, that is.

He’d grown accustomed to seeking the Professor's help, instead of sneaking off under his Invisibility cloak to do what he thought he must. When he though about it, all of his actions were justified. However, Harry knew Severus well enough to know that he wouldn’t accept any of the many believable reasons he could conjure – apart from the absolute truth.

But how could Harry tell him?

Severus was informed, naturally, about his and Dumbledore’s hunt for Slughorn’s memory and the items which could lead to Voldemort’s defeat, but Harry insisted that he keep the truth about his connection to the Dark wizard hidden. Dumbledore reluctantly agreed.

It hurt. Every day, it pained him to look Severus in the eyes knowing he was keeping this from him.

With a pang of sudden clarity, it hit Harry that he now knew exactly how his guardian had felt all those years ago when he’d struggled with telling Harry about his involvement in Lily and James’ deaths.

A bitter chuckle almost tore itself from Harry’s throat. Like father like son, he supposed.

Even if he did tell him, and Severus didn’t decide to leave Harry alone for good – how would the man ever forgive him for keeping that huge secret from him?

In that moment, the biting cold pushed him out of his reverie. They’d made it to the dungeons. The longer they trecked through the dark, silent corridors, the more Harry trembled. He rubbed his goose-flesh covered arms.

The moment that Severus’ office door appeared in their line of sight, Harry knew it had to be done. The truth had to come out. Fear and pain pulled sharply, savagely at Harry’s heart, one he felt didn’t entirely belong to him, anymore.  

He didn’t know who, or what he was. He just wanted to be normal. To be free.

And the truth tasted similar to freedom, right now.

„In,“ Harry heard Severus say, firm but flat – the tinge of disappointment and exhaustion in his tone another stab to Harry’s chest. Familiar buzzing filled his ears as he shuffled into the slightly warmer office. A lump formed in his throat.

The room smelled of herbs, dried flowers and candle-smoke. Small comforts. Reminders of home. A neatly folded, moss-green blanket Harry often used when he took tea with Severus, his favourite Gryffindor – themed mug still at the table, the scarf laying on the desk. He’d forgotten it last night, after a particularly heated game of chess.

Harry’s eyes stung, but he hadn’t the strength to stop the inevitable.

The slam of the heavy office door effectively brought him back to the present. Severus stalked to the desk, pivoted back to face Harry, and without pausing to look at the boy began to pace.

„What in Merlin’s name were you thinking? A midnight stroll through the Restriced section, hm?“ Severus barked, a viscious scowl plasterd on his face,“I thought we’ve been through this, Harry, it is an utterly moronic display of reckle – „

„Dad,“

Severus skidded to a halt.

Was it the way the word left his mouth, broken and raspy? Was it the bloodshot eyes, or now stubbornly escaping tears? Perhaps it was the title Harry hadn’t had the heart to use in weeks. Harry had little time to process what exactly Severus reacted to, but the man was upon him in seconds.

Warm hands grasped his subtly shaking shoulders.

Harry bent his head, desperately grasping at fleeting courage to just say it, even if his whole body shuddered with anguish as possibilty upon possibility jostled his mind into overdrive.

What if he leaves? What if he hates me? I’m not just Harry, anymore, I’m Voldemort, too! He deserves a normal life, a normal son without the sould of a Dark wizard corrupting his soul.

 He wanted to scream, to hide, to be left alone even if, at that very thought, his thundering heart begged not to be. Guilt gnawed at his thoughts.

He needs to know! Reason argued.

Harry’s lungs were on fire. Every attempt to breathe was a new lit match swallowed.

He’ll be furious, disgusted, and he’ll finally be sick of us! Emotion bellowed.

„…ry, Harry,…ook at…e,“

„C-can’t,“ he choked out.

„Please, tell me what’s wrong,“

The concern in Severus’ voice sent a tidal wave of something like grief surging through him. Gentle hands now cradled his face. Achingly familiar long fingers brushed away the salty tears in vain. The lingering scent of potions surrounded him like a thick blanket.

It was unbearable. He didn’t deserve it.

Old memories bloomed in his mind, distant enough to be unwelcome, but not enough to feel entirely wrong. The wounds were deep, and not quite entirelz healed yet.

Some blood still seeped through.

Freak.

Unworthy.

Ungrateful brat.

Orphan scum.

„Harry!“ a gravelly voice said, urgent and loud.

 Harry glanced up for just a moment. When his green eyes met black, heavily confused ones, what little willpower he had snapped like a tripwire.

„I’m a – „ His voice cracked, then finally: “I’m a Horcrux,“

Severus’ breath hitched. The worried frown deepened.

„What?“

„Please, don’t make me repeat it, I can’t – I just –„

„When did you…Is that why you were in the library?“

Harry nodded ardently. An unexpected impulse to snap at the man to hurry up with a reply, anything really. He yearned for a conformation – either of his worst fears, or of his most frail hope.

„I needed to know – to know more, but there was nothing,“ he sniffed miserably, face still firmly set in Severus’ hands, „And I’m so, so sorry! I should have t-told you earlier, but I thought  you’d…“

Leave.

Harry let the thought die on his tongue, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He couldn’t voice that pathetic assumption. Severus had been nothing but patient and stubbornly present in Harry’s life since he found out about his miserable situation at Privet Drive, and this regression to his younger mind and thoughts grated on him. It wasn’t fair to the man who’d taken care of him all this time!

Selfish.

Worthless.

Hypocrite.

Distantly, he heard Severus sigh.

„Foolish child,“

Gently, his father pulled him into his arms. It took him a moment to fully comprehend it, but when he did, he couldn’t help but melt into the hug. The comfort he needed but never asked for. Yet, Severus always knew – even without using legilimency. His hands gripped at the fabric on Severus’ back, head bent into the crook of his neck. It felt like homecoming. Most of all, it felt like safety.

A broken half-sob half-laugh escaped his lips when he felt a hand card through his messy black hair. With the gesture came a wave of calm they both desperately needed.

„I have said this before, and will say it again – I am never, ever going to leave. You are my son, and I will repeat it until it finally penetrates that thick Gryffindor skull of yours,“

„But, what about –?“ Harry started, voice muffled.

„Nothing,“ Severus said softly. A determined edge traced his next words: „That has not and will not change things. I will find a way to remove it, whatever it takes.“ His father’s embrace tightened.

It tightened, as if that single act could conjure protection more powerful than any spell in this world.

Relief sparked in Harry like warm, golden sunlight at the break of dawn.

He could only chuckle wetly when quiet grumbles of „Wandering around at midnight,“ and „…Restricted section..,“ made it to his ears.

Chapter Text

Selene was being tortured.

By her own body.

For days on end.

It was as if that single, natural action of the human body never fully absorbed into her. Like all creatures of the world, she also needed sleep. Yearned for it. Still, it never saw fit to grant her the power to do it with ease like all others seemed to have the ability to.

Frustration seeped into her veins once more at her newest vein attempt. The building ache in her spine encouraged the pent-up anger, the warmth under her blanket turned stifling, the softness of the matress below mocking her every endeavor to get comfortable. Bitterly, she reminded herself it was not the first time she went through this. Nor would it be the last. Only after some odd minutes of tossing and turning did she succumb to the feeble hands of slumber.

Soft bubbling reached her ears. Steam and combinations of scents flowed around her like a spring breeze – nostalgic and fragrant. She indulged herself one deep breath. Her fingers grazed lightly against the first surface in sight – a haggard, walnut-coloured desk. It was dry and rough beneath her fingertips. They moved, now gliding across the smooth, cool sides of glass bottles, jars and vials. Through the haze, she finally realized she was brewing.

 The idea that the senses could captivate ones attention so completely never truly ceased to surprise her. The way they could shift and change over time, bring back old memories in a single moment of recognition. The human capability of adaptation. How one could, in loosing one sense, gain significant power in another, as a substitute. How the human body could learn to adjust to its new form. How they could consume the mind. She often wondered how someone could endure the loss of such beauty and depth.

Selene moved with practiced grace. She sliced, minced, diced and crushed with little effort needed. The ingredients were all perfect, prepared in as meticulous and percise a manner as her father daily employed. To be able to brew was her pride and joy. It was everything. Potions were a difficult language she spoke fluently, and it never occured to her that one day she might loose the ability to communicate in it.

Sleep came slowly for Selene.

But the peace never lasted long.

Before she could even begin to process it, the potion in front of her let out an abrupt, ominous hiss. Not a second later – all hell broke loose. The fire beneath burned bright and wild, climbing up the sides of her cauldron. Its flames rose so high that it obscured the cauldron from view. Selene jerked back sharply to avoid the flurry. Her eyes flicked desperately from side to side with anxious hope that she’d find anything or anyone to help. She scrambled, reaching for this bottle or that vial. She turned to find bare, blurry walls. Only she and the deask floated in this infinite, dimly lit space that resembled a safe, familiar lab.

It was no use. She turned to see the fiery cauldron tremble violently, its contents spilling.

BOOM!

Selene woke with the beginning of a scream on her tongue. It tasted bitter, like smoke and ash. The ringing in her ears subsided just enough to bear witness to the thundering of her heart. It took her a while to catch her breath. Her chest felt tight. She felt tired.

Her eyes watered. Remnants of the bright explosion were now burned into her mind, never to be fully forgotten.

What caused it? She did everything right. She never trusted the dreams, but she trusted herself. Even in the vivid projections of her subcontious she had no doubts in her abilities.

The fire. What could it mean? Like her father, she didn’t believe in bad omens or tea-leaves. Divination was for weak-minded individuals who couldn’t rely on their true magical potential and had to seek guidence and assurance with such drivel. However, it was not the first time she’d made a bad brew in a dream.

It had to mean something. It just had to. Otherwise, it was something personal, vulnerable. A weakness in the waking hours she just wasn’t fully concious of yet. That pained her more than to admit there were such things as divine intervention and messages from the future.

She had to go see dad.

Chapter Text

Her footsteps echoed in the long, stone corridor. The steady click-clack of boots bounced off the cold, stone walls, just the same as she remembered. It was much quieter, though. No chatter filled the space, no endless complaining about homework or unfair detentions granted, no laughter. Barely any signs of life. Only the faint chitter of birds and sputtering of fire from the sconces bloomed in the silence.

To some it might have felt strange and dreary. Hogwarts, a school usually so vivid and characteristic in its liveliness – now almost hollow, a shell of what it used to be. Even though its ancient walls had been repaired, the cracks and scars remained visible. Some of the paintings had changed – their old, broken frames replaced by fresh ones, the tears in the dusty canvases glued back with a practiced hand. Even some new faces appeared, the closer her feet took her to the Headmistresses office: Fred, forever captured by delicate paintstrokes, jumped from one frame to another – annoying or endearing the original occupants. He and George had gotten their portraits done as a joke. It turned intoa bittersweet memory now; Cedric Diggory, painted at the insistance of Harry Potter himself. His kind, charming face stayed forever static, as he was painted post-mortem. Many more familiar faces shuffled about – but to her, it felt like opening old wounds. It was only a memory of people forever lost.

With all that said, though, the castle still felt like home to her. Magic, warm and inviting, pulsed like a heartbeat. Hogwarts was alive with it. It was like golden rays of sun striking the cold, wet earth in spring. Selene had always harboured a special appreciation for its unique essence, and she paused only steps away from her destination just to breathe it all in.

She placed a hand on the nearest wall and called for it. Instantly, comforting yet invisible tendrils pulled at her own magical core, as if the castle was saying ’Hello, again,’ to an old friend.

It had been three years since the Battle. Three years since she’d last stepped foot in the school. Three years since she’d even been in Britain.

Gods, how she missed this.

The smells, the sights, the noises of her childhood.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to be late. She had time to bask in the glory of being home later. She took the last few steps towards the Gargoyle.

„Godric’s Hollow,“

It jumped aside readily, and she ascended to the office.

„Enter,“ came the answer at her knock.

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, sat behind a desk overflowing in paperwork. However, even with stacks upon stacks of parchment, an ink bottle and multiple quills lying around, it was orderly and well-managed by the professor. Her appearance, as if fixed in time and space, sent a faint shiver of deja-vu through Selene’s spine. It was the same, old McGonagall, dressed in velvety green robes, greying hair tied tightly into a bun beneath her pointed hat, her eyes partialy hidden behind square spectacles.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

„Selene Snape, it has been far too long since I last saw you,“

The fondness in her tone made Selene’s breath hitch suddenly. Occlumency momentarily helped conceal the emotion.

„You look well,“

Selene smiled awkwardly. The past three years were dedicated to her health – mental and physical. Though she cared little for appearances, it still felt nice knowing that her hard work showed. Her hair, still long and black, but now glossier and fuller stood out to people the most. It was also the palor of her skin that had been replaced by a healthier shade, her eyes now less sunken-in and brighter.

„It’s good to see you, too, Professor.“ She sat in the opposite chair, clearing her throat, „How are things here, at school? It looks like you’re already quite busy…“

„Ah, that,“ Minerva sighed as her eyes followed Selene’s gaze, „Even during the Summer holidays there is work to be done – especially right before the new academic year,“

Selene hummed in acquiescence. After a moment or two of comfortable silence, she said:

„Professor, you –„

„Minerva,“

Selene barely held back her jaw from dropping. She hadn’t called her anything but ’professor’ since before her First year. ’Auntie Minnie’ was the official title back when Selene was a little girl, but it faded from use due to propriety.

„Pardon?“

„Well, I was rather fond of you calling me Minnie,“ she said, as if she read her mind jsut then,“but I suppose you’d be uncomfortable with the name. However, I must insist you call me Minerva – I am not your professor any longer. That title now passes on to you,“

Selene stared at her former teacher. This was not an unexpected development, but it certainly was something she felt entirely unprepared to take on.

„You’re offering me a job,“

„That is correct,“

„Potions?“

„Naturally.“ Minerva smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement and something Selene could only interpret as pride.

„You did, after all, manage to beat Severus – becoming the youngest Potions Master in a century,“

Selene huffed, something akin to a laugh escaped her lips. Grief struck her chest like a plucked cord – still too tight. Any mention of him felt like another jab at a still-healing wound. For this she was equally as unprepared.

„Yes, well, if he hadn’t taught me all his tricks before I turned 13, maybe I wouldn’t have succeded so quickly,“

Minerva’s head turned to the side – as it to meet someone’s gaze, only to turn back when there was no person to catch it. Selene followed the motion. Her inky black eyes landed on a large, empty portrait. A distant, almost forgotten ache returned to her gut.

„Albus?“

„Indeed. He’s delivering a message. I was hoping that he’d be along shortly, if only to see what I’ve also called you here for,“

Just because Selene was a Slytherin, capable of adapting to a myriad of situations and always cautious enough to suspect things upfront does not mean she had a clue what Minerva was talking about. The War had taught her self-preservation and wariness in all things – but peace had tuned those instincts down to embers. Mostly by force. Even her Occlumency dwindled these days, as she hadn’t had the strength to keep them as strongly as she did back then.

The confusion, therefore, must have shown plainly on her face, as Minerva continued.

„I did invite you here to offer you a job, Selene, but that is not the only reason. Now – before I reveal anything, I hope you understand that it was not mine to tell, and I could not convince him otherwise, the stubborn man…He wanted to wait for you to heal, to rest, though I disagreed –„

„Minerva, what in Merlin’s name is this about? Please, excuse me for being so blunt, but just say it already,“ Selene said exasperatedly.

„No need. I can show you,“ she said briskly. She turned to the door of the office with a stern experession. „Come in, now, you insisted on this. You don’t want to keep her waiting, do you?“

To Selene, it looked like Minerva was speaking to a wall. Of all the strange…

Just then, her brain short-circuted.

The empty space between the desk and dark doorway wasn’t so empty anymore. In it appeared a semi-transparent form, horrifying in its familiarity.

„Dad?“

„Hello, little one,“ Severus said softly. The low timbre of his voice made her heart skip a beat.

It’s been years since she last heard it. Through the haze overtaking her mind like winter fog, she stood from her seat and faced him fully.

„How..How are you a..?“

He floated closer.

Only then did it register why his appearence felt so wrong. It was so light. In life, Severus had only worn dark colours – mostly black. His hair and eyes, once also shades of obsidian, now almost uniform in colour – transparent, muted grey with only faint diffrences in value. The severe contrast left her almost speechless.

The guilty, pained look in his crinkled eyes made something in her chest squeeze. She then truly understood what McGonagall had meant.

„Wait…you’ve been here this whole time?..Three years…“

Selene’s gaze flicked back to Minerva, who seemed to, as Albus once had, age before her very eyes. Pity, regret, anger. Those were the swirling emotions behind the depths of her eyes.

Severus spoke, then, tone hollow and so unlike her father she almost questioned his identity.

„I’m so very sorry, Lena, for not telling you sooner. I…I only wished the best for you, and I thought that if you knew, you’d never leave the castle… Never experience a normal life. Minerva was painfully loud about how idiotic that sounded but…At the time, I wanted you to live, free of tethers to the past – unlike..“

Unlike him, Selene finished in her head. The initial disbelief and outrage at being kept in the dark shattered. Tears sprung to her eyes, the carefully packaged grief spilling from it’s glass container – glass shards tearing up her heart.

„No, you…you’re right. That is exactly what I would have done, but I wish – Gods, this might sound extremely insensitive and cruel – but I wish you could have just stayed entirely gone!“

Severus’ expression didn’t change, but she heard a soft gasp from behind her. Selene barged on, ignoring the lump that formed in her throat.

„I’m glad you’re here, I truly am – but dad, this is the most wicked thing I could possibly imagine your afterlife to be! I – I can see you, and hear you, but I can’t – Merlin, I want to be able to hug you, too! I can’t do that, though, can I?“

„Lena…“

„I miss you, dad – every single day! There isn’t a second that passes where I don’t think of you: what you’d do,“ She took a shaky breath,“..or say, or think –„

Salty, hot tears streamed down her face then. Selene felt horribly pathetic – especially because her walls used to be iron-clad. Now, they crumbled easily, as if made of sand. Every breath she took had to be slow, measured, in order to stay quiet. She smothered a sob with immense difficulty, and the more she tried the harder it became.

All the memories, the good and bad, played in her mind like looking in a Pensieve.

The most prominent one, however, was the most painful. Blood, puncture wounds, blank black eyes that stared but would never see again; Her screams, a lingering echo imprinted in her ears. It would fade, they said.

Selene didn’t believe it for one second.

„This – this isn’t you. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this…“ She chuckled bitterly.

A whisper of magic reached her senses. Then, icy water poured covered her body. Severus, now mere inches away, „held“ her face in his transparent palms. Each time his thumb slid across it in vain attempt to wipe the tears the frigid feeling returned. He didn’t seem to care. Selene knew she didn’t, even though she trembled violently from dicomfort. The gesture was bittersweet and warm, one he often repeated in her childhood. Her breath hitched halfway at each inhale as she struggled to calm down.

„Lena, my little one, I may not be living and breathing, but I still know you. You are the strongest person I have met in my short, miserable life, and… I am very proud of how far you’ve come,“ he said, eyes fervent.

The ache will linger, and it will be difficult, but I’m here for you, always. Even if, some days, you might hate me for leaving you, and then returning in this quite useless form,“

The sentiment startled a wet, raspy chuckle from her throat.

„Well…it has it’s charms,“ she muttered.

…

„So…what now?“

Their twin eyes met. His calm and sure. Hers brimming with unusual uncertainty.

„Now, you continue the legacy of the infamous dungeon bat,“

„Dad!“

„What? Can’t a dead man have a sense of humour?“