Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟒𝟓 - 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼

I lay motionless, watching the faint light of dawn begin to seep through the window, casting a pale glow across the room. Morning had arrived, but the night's turmoil lingered, an unshakable weight pressing down on my chest. Each minute stretched into the next, the stillness around me almost suffocating, as though the very air conspired to trap me in this moment of grief and betrayal. The castle was silent, yet the memories of the previous night roared in my mind, each thought sharper and more painful than the last.

Finally, unable to endure the confinement of the room any longer, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, clutching my wand tightly in one hand as if it could anchor me. The bed beneath me felt cold, its comfort lost to the ache that had settled deep within my bones. I took a breath and rose, moving toward the door. The need for escape, for air, became a kind of desperation, urging me out of my room and into the castle's empty halls.

The corridors were cloaked in the dim, gray light of early morning, the stone walls cold and unwelcoming. Hogwarts, which had once felt like a haven, now seemed indifferent, its familiar passageways stretching before me like a labyrinth, shadowed and unkind. I wandered without purpose, lost in thought, each step heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken fears. The betrayal I felt was raw, a wound that refused to heal, and it took every ounce of strength to keep moving.

As I passed Severus's office, the soft murmurs of the morning silence were shattered by a sudden, violent crash—a splintering of glass, followed by a loud thud that echoed down the corridor. The sound jolted me from my fog, my heart racing. I froze, the hairs on my arms standing on end, as a wave of dread washed over me. My mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last.

Driven by a mix of fear and urgency, I hurried to the office door, my hands trembling as they closed around the handle. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped inside, bracing myself for whatever awaited me.

Severus stood at his worktable, his attention focused intently on a cauldron simmering with a potion that emitted a faint, acrid scent. His back was to me, and he didn't notice my presence at first. The room was in disarray—papers scattered across the desk, books toppled from shelves, and shards of glass littering the floor as if something had been violently shattered.

I scanned the chaos, my concern growing. "What happened here?" I asked, breaking the silence. Severus didn't turn immediately, but I saw the tension in his shoulders tighten. When he finally faced me, his expression was a mask of controlled anger, but beneath it, there was something else—pain. A deep cut on his hand bled freely, staining the hem of his sleeve.

For a long moment, he simply stared at me, his dark eyes piercing. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a growl. "Why are you here, (Y|N)?" The question was laced with an edge of frustration, as if he were struggling to maintain his composure.

I took a breath, steeling myself against his icy reception. My heart was still pounding from the moment I'd heard the crash, and though I had rushed here out of genuine worry, I couldn't bring myself to admit it. To reveal even a hint of vulnerability now felt impossible, a weakness I couldn't afford. Instead, I clung to the questions that had plagued me all night, letting them spill forth in a bid to cover my concern.

"I—I want the truth, Severus. All of it." My words were firm, though my voice wavered slightly under his intense gaze. "I need to understand what really happened between you and my father."

A heavy silence followed. His eyes bore into mine, filled with a deep, guarded weariness. For a moment, it seemed as if he might refuse. His jaw clenched, and he turned away sharply, focusing on the cauldron before him as if the conversation had ended.

"You already know enough," he said flatly, his voice clipped. "What difference does it make to hear the rest? It won't change anything."

His words stung, but I refused to back down. "It matters to me," I replied, my tone edged with frustration. "You can't just keep shutting me out. If you think I'll just walk away—"