Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

𝟕𝟗 - 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮

Severus and I sat near the far end, sharing a quiet breakfast while the soft hum of post-war life stirred around us. Students murmured, staff exchanged updates, and somewhere, Filch grumbled about a cursed broom refusing to sweep.

I stirred my tea absently, then glanced sideways at him. He was reading The Daily Prophet, naturally, with his usual scowl of disapproval.

"I've been thinking," I began carefully.

He didn't look up. "Dangerous habit."

I nudged his leg under the table.

"That we should consider living... elsewhere," I continued. "Outside of Hogwarts. At least partially. Somewhere off the grounds."

That got his attention. He folded the paper with exaggerated slowness and arched an eyebrow. "You're suggesting we abandon our charming dungeon suite?"

"I'm suggesting we avoid daily interrogations from eleven-year-olds," I replied flatly. "Do you know how many first-years asked me this week if professors also have to share rooms?"

He smirked. "And how did you respond?"

I sighed, leaning back a little. "I panicked and said it was for... budget reasons."

Severus blinked. "Budget reasons?"

I shrugged. "Would you rather I explain the complexities of our emotional entanglement and the lasting consequences of a blood bond to a child who still sleeps with a stuffed Puffskein?"

He paused. "Fair point."

There was a beat of silence. Then, gently:

"You want some distance from this place."

"No," I said quickly, turning to face him fully. "I want a home. Our home. I wonder what it would be like. Life a little quieter. Away from corridors full of Chaos."

Severus sipped his tea slowly, then arched a brow.
"Quieter? From you, that sounds suspicious."

I laughed under my breath. "Not... too quiet. Just enough. A little noise now and then. Something real. Something ours."

He regarded me for a moment, then asked—almost too casually, though his eyes watched me carefully:
"Are you planning something I should be aware of?"

I smiled, playing along. "No. Nothing like that. Not yet."

A pause.

His gaze softened just slightly, voice low.
"Good. I'd... like to be aware. If you ever did."

I didn't answer with words. Just looked at him.

Severus glanced at me, something unreadable flickering behind the dry curve of his mouth.

"So you picture me... in a garden. Tending roses. Perhaps mowing the lawn, while you organize the spice rack and curse dust out of the curtains?"

I barked out a laugh. "Oh, absolutely. You in an apron, grumbling over basil and tea leaves. Sounds about right."

He was quiet for a moment, fingers tracing the rim of his teacup.

And then he nodded.

A small, warm flicker sparked in my chest—relief, surprise, something tender that unfurled softly beneath my ribs. I hadn't expected him to agree so easily, but I should have known better. This version of Severus—the one who no longer needed to hide everything behind sharp words and cold silence—had started to surprise me more often.

I smiled, brushing my fingers lightly across the back of his hand. "Just... keep your ears open," I said gently. "If you hear about something lovely, let me know."