Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟕𝟖 - 𝓞𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝔀

It had been four months since the final battle.

The reconstruction of Hogwarts had begun almost immediately. Witches and wizards from across the country—former students, parents, volunteers—had worked tirelessly, driven by a shared urgency: to ensure the school could reopen by September. Not just as a building, but as a symbol. A promise that hope still lived here.

Stone by stone, spell by spell, they had pieced it back together. Some scars remained—stubborn cracks in old walls, scorch marks that no cleaning charm could quite remove—but no one wanted them gone. They were part of its story now. Part of their story.

And they had done it.

Hogwarts opened its doors on the first of September, just as it always had. The Sorting Hat resumed its duty. The boats glided across the lake. And for many students who had feared they might never return, it was a chance to finish what had begun. To celebrate what they had survived.

Graduation had taken place in the very first week. It had been bittersweet—less formal than usual, held beneath open skies rather than in the restored Great Hall. But it had mattered. Harry, Hermione, Ron—all of them stood among the seventh-years, receiving their certificates not just as students, but as heroes.

At the head of it all stood Minerva.

Headmistress now.

Her robes were more severe, her hair pulled tighter, but her eyes had never been warmer. She had taken the weight of the school onto her shoulders without hesitation, guiding Hogwarts forward with the same unwavering strength she always had. A protector. A leader.

The Death Eaters had scattered like ash in the wind. Without their leader, their cause dissolved into whispers and shadows, too fractured to rise again. Some surrendered. Others vanished. But none dared move openly, not in a world that no longer feared them.

The Ministry—rebuilt under Kingsley's steady leadership—acted swiftly. Trials were held, testimonies heard, truths finally spoken aloud.

And when Harry stood before them, quiet and resolute, and spoke Severus Snape's name—when he told them everything—they listened.

The pardon was official. Unconditional.

Severus had been cleared of all charges.

But even now, months later, his name was still met with hesitation in some corners. Not everyone could forget so easily. Not everyone wanted to.

But that no longer mattered. Not to him. Not to me.

He was free.

And in the quiet that followed, life began again.

Morning light filtered softly through the old shutters, casting golden lines across the bed, the sheets, and the tangle of our bodies.

This was our chamber now. Not his. Not mine. Ours.

There were no longer two separate doors at opposite ends of the corridor. No more excuses, no need for whispered exits in the night. Just this space—quiet, shared, lived in. A small haven carved out of a world that had nearly destroyed us.

I felt him before I was fully awake—his steady breath against the back of my neck, the warmth of his chest pressed to my spine, one arm wrapped securely around my waist. His fingers had found the dip just below my ribs, resting there as if they belonged.

He was spooning me—closely, protectively. Not just out of habit, but with intention. His touch wasn't possessive, just... certain. Like this was ours. Like this was how it had always been meant to be.