Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟒𝟒 - 𝓑𝓮𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓪𝓵

I awoke to darkness, my head throbbing with a dull, relentless ache. The air was cold, thick with the scent of damp stone and something else—something sharp and metallic. As I blinked, trying to adjust to the gloom, I realized I could see almost nothing. The room was nearly pitch black, save for a faint glimmer of light seeping through cracks in the walls, just enough to make out the vague outlines of my surroundings. The walls were rough, unforgiving, and the ceiling low, oppressive. A wave of dread washed over me, and I instinctively tried to move, only to find my hands bound tightly together. Panic surged as I struggled against the restraints, but they held fast, unyielding.

My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and my thoughts scrambled in every direction, desperate for answers, for an escape. But all I could feel was the cold bite of the restraints digging into my wrists. My breath came in shallow, rapid bursts as the horrific realization settled in—I was defenseless. My wand was gone.

This has to be a nightmare, I thought desperately. Any moment now, I'll wake up in my bed, and this will all be over.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up, to escape this suffocating darkness. But when I opened them again, nothing had changed. The cold, the darkness, the fear—they were all real. A sickening dread crept over me, chilling me to the bone. This wasn't a dream.

And then, from somewhere in the shadows, I heard it—a low, mocking laugh, dripping with contempt. My blood ran cold. I knew that laugh. It was a sound I had prayed I would never hear again.

"Some things never change," a voice drawled, laced with cruel amusement. It was a voice I had convinced myself was gone forever, a voice that haunted my nightmares.

My breath hitched in my throat, and for a moment, I was paralyzed with fear. Slowly, I turned my head toward the source of the voice, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

From the darkness, a figure stepped into the faint light, and as his face came into view, my stomach twisted with a nauseating mix of terror and disbelief. It was him. The man who was supposed to be dead, the man who had died in Azkaban. My father.

It was really him. And yet, it wasn't. The man before me was a twisted version of the father I had once known, his features hardened, distorted by years of hatred and bitterness. His eyes, once cold and calculating, now burned with an unhinged fury. His lips curled into a sneer as he looked down at me, and in that moment, all the memories I had fought to bury came flooding back.

"Surprised to see me?" he taunted, his voice low and venomous. "You thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you? Thought you were free of the father who haunted your nightmares?"

I could only stare at him, my mind reeling. How could this be happening? How was he alive? My thoughts spiraled out of control, but I forced myself to stay calm, to focus on the immediate threat. But all I could manage was a weak, trembling whisper. "You're supposed to be dead."

He laughed again, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the walls. "Dead? Oh, how I wish I could have seen your face when you heard the news. But as you can see, reports of my death were... greatly exaggerated."

He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. I could see him more clearly now, the dim light casting harsh shadows across his gaunt face. He was older, more haggard than I remembered, but the cruelty in his eyes was unmistakable. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and I found myself instinctively shrinking back, desperate to distance myself from the man who had caused me so much pain.

"You're still that pathetic little girl," he hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Still as weak and insignificant as ever. Did you really think you could escape me? That you could hide from the truth of who you are?"