Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟓𝟐 - 𝓛𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵

A sound. A faint dripping. The echo reverberates through an emptiness where walls should be, but there are none. My breath comes in shallow bursts, every step creaking on an unseen floor. Before me, a narrow path stretches into an impenetrable fog. The air smells of metal and cold stone.

I follow the path because there is nothing else to do. Shadows shift on either side, murmuring, but their words are too quiet to make out.

Suddenly—a light.

It flickers weakly, like a candle struggling against the wind, and illuminates a figure ahead. A man, tall and cloaked in black. Severus. His back is turned to me, rigid and unyielding, as though carved from the very stone beneath our feet.

"Severus?" My voice echoes unnaturally, too loud in the oppressive silence. He doesn't move.

I step closer. The light grows brighter, harsher. It reveals the ground beneath us—a pool of something dark and viscous spreading outward. Blood. My heart pounds as I notice the crimson stain seeping from Severus' chest, his shoulders sagging under the weight of unseen hands.

A second figure emerges from the shadows. Albus. His face is hollow, pale, his piercing blue eyes devoid of warmth. He stands on a raised platform now visible through the fog. Severus is below him, his wand raised, his arm trembling.

"It must be done," Albus says. His voice is steady, yet so devoid of emotion it sends a chill down my spine. He steps closer to Severus, who lowers his head, a look of anguish crossing his face.

"Do it," Albus commands.

"No!" I shout, but neither of them reacts. I'm not truly there—I can only watch, powerless.

Severus' hand tightens around his wand, his lips forming a single, quiet word.

Avada Kedavra.

The green light bursts forth, and Albus collapses, his body falling as though in slow motion. His outstretched arm reaches toward Severus even as he hits the ground, the life draining from his body. The light fades, and all that remains is the sound of Severus' ragged breathing.

I rush toward him, but the scene shifts violently. Albus' body disappears, and now Severus is the one lying on the ground, blood pooling around his throat. His lifeless eyes stare up at me, piercing and accusing.

"No!" I cry again, but my voice is swallowed by the shadows. My feet won't move.

A hand grabs my wrist—thin, bony, ice-cold. I turn, and Albus is there once more, his face inches from mine. "He knew his fate," he whispers, and his voice is not his own—it is Severus', low and rich and full of pain.

The world twists violently. I am falling. Faces flash before me: Severus, Albus, my own reflection, distorted and screaming. I hit the ground, but it feels like water, pulling me under, suffocating me in its cold embrace.

And then—silence.

I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. My chest heaves, my hands trembling as I clutch the sheets. The warmth of Severus' body beside me anchors me to the present, but the images still linger in my mind. The blood, the shadows, his lifeless eyes.

(Y/N)?" Severus murmurs groggily, his voice tinged with concern. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, I can't speak. I can only stare at him, alive and breathing, yet haunted by the vision of his death. "It was just a dream," I whisper finally, though the words feel hollow.

That dream. It still haunted me, lingering like a shadow in the back of my mind. Time passed quickly since then. The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the grounds of Hogwarts in a serene, quiet stillness. It was midwinter, and the castle's corridors were icy cold, but my chambers were warm, the fire crackling in the hearth. Every time I closed my eyes, fragments of it resurfaced, leaving me with a chill that not even the warmth of the fire could chase away.