Work Text:
The fire crackled low in the sitting room of Severus's chambers, casting long shadows over the walls. You sat curled into Severus’ side on the worn sofa, your legs draped over his lap, his hand tracing slow, absentminded circles against your thigh. It was quiet, peaceful — rare.
Moments like this made hiding worth it.
Almost.
You sighed, feeling the thought rise in your chest before you could stop it.
"My love…," you said softly, tilting your head to look up at him. "Have you ever thought about... not hiding anymore?"
His fingers stilled, resting heavy and still against your skin.
He looked down at you, dark eyes unreadable. "Why would we change anything?" His voice was careful, almost cautious. "This is good. Isn't it?"
You shifted, sitting up a little, suddenly needing to move. "It’s good, yes. But… it could be better. I’m tired of pretending we’re just colleagues. I want—" You hesitated, heart pounding. "I want to hold your hand in the Great Hall. I want to kiss you goodnight without checking if anyone’s looking."
For a moment, Severus didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your leg.
"And why," he said slowly, "would you want that?"
You stared at him, confused. "Because I’m proud to be with you? Because I love you?"
He pressed his mouth into a thin line, looking away.
The hurt started as a flicker — a warning — deep in your gut.
"Severus," you pushed, voice shaking a little, "why are you acting like it would be some terrible thing?"
He stood abruptly, pacing toward the fire. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to grab onto something — or someone — but didn't.
"Because it would be," he snapped. "You know what they're like. Whispers. Judgment. Pitying looks. Mockery."
"You think I care about that?" you shot back, standing too now, your heart climbing into your throat.
"You should!" he barked, turning on you, eyes blazing. "You're foolish if you think this would end with anything but chaos."
You flinched at the venom in his voice. You opened your mouth — to say what, you didn't know — but he cut you off, voice dropping into something quieter. More dangerous.
"There is no need for anyone to know." he said. "it's better if people don't associate you with someone like me."
The room tilted. You staggered back a step.
And just like that, the tiny flicker of hurt exploded into rage.
"So that's it, then?" you said, voice trembling. "You don't want to be seen with me? Are you embarrassed by me? You don’t want people knowing because you don’t want them to talk about you?"
Severus' face twisted, frustration radiating off him. "Don’t put words in my mouth," he snapped. "You are not listening and twisting everything."
"Oh, I’m twisting it?" you laughed bitterly, crossing your arms. "You’re the one acting like being with me is some shameful burden you have to keep secret!"
"It’s not about you!" he thundered. "It's about—" He stopped, chest heaving, searching for the words. "It's about what this world does to things it doesn't understand. About how it breaks beautiful things just to prove it can."
"And you think keeping me hidden, like a dirty secret is better?" you shot back, tears burning your eyes. "You think locking us away in the dark is keeping this save?"
"You don’t understand," he hissed. "You never have."
"Because you don't let me!" you shouted, stepping closer. "You shove everyone out before they can even get close! Including me!"
For a moment, you both just stood there, breathing hard, the fire snapping between you like it could taste the anger in the air.
"I thought—" you choked, voice cracking. "I thought I meant more to you."
Severus' jaw clenched so hard you thought his teeth might crack.
"You do!" he said, low and furious. "But you are not listening to what I am trying to tell you"
"Then what the damn point of this!" you screamed.
The words hung there, too loud, too raw.
Severus stared at you, chest rising and falling fast.
You turned away before he could see you cry. You grabbed your wand, your cloak, your pride — and fled.
You didn’t see him sag against the mantel, fingers gripping the stone until his knuckles went white.
You didn’t hear the whispered, broken "I don't want you regret being seen with me..." he choked into the empty room once you were gone.
The slam of the door still echoed in your ears as you threw yourself onto your bed in your own chambers.
You still couldn't understand why he was so against it.
All you knew was that it hurt.
You both didn’t speak to each other after that night, not like you usually would after an argument.
Not the next morning when you passed him in the Entrance Hall. Not when you caught sight of him storming through the dungeons during break. Not when you both showed up at the staff meeting, sitting as far apart as possible at the long oak table, pretending the other didn’t exist.
Whenever you saw him, you turned on your heel and walked away — sometimes with your head high, sometimes with your hands shaking. And Severus, for all his scowling and glowering, never stopped you. Never said your name. Never pulled you back like you desperately, secretly wanted him to.
No words. No notes. A cold spot on the left side of your bed. You slept alone now, bundled in blankets that felt too big and too empty without him.
And Severus — well, Severus became a nightmare.
By day three, the students were whispering about it openly. He prowled the halls like a feral thing, robes snapping behind him, face like a brewing storm. Students scurried away at the mere sound of his footsteps.
He docked points for the most mundane things. His sarcasm, once almost entertaining, turned brutal. He barked at first-years until they burst into tears. He sneered at seventh-years until even the Slytherins ran out after class terrified.
You weren’t much better.
The life had drained out of you, like ink running out of a quill.
You barely spoke at meals anymore, eating quickly and escaping the Great Hall before anyone could corner you. When colleagues tried to chat — even sweet Pomona, even gentle Filius — you made polite excuses and left, claiming lesson plans or grading. You didn’t smile, not even once, and your laughter — usually a regular, warm thing filling the staff lounge — was completely absent.
You avoided Severus like he was a ghost haunting the corridors. But Merlin, you still felt him everywhere.
You passed each other sometimes — cold shoulder brushing cold shoulder — and though you never looked at him, you felt the way his gaze clung to you, desperate and guilty all at once.
Neither of you gave in.
Neither of you apologized.
Neither of you said a damn word.
The whole Castle noticed.
By the end of the week, the everyone felt the tension like a low buzzing in the walls.
Students started tiptoeing around the two of you like you were cursed artifacts. They whispered in corridors — "Have you seen Professor Snape? He's worse than usual." "Have you seen Professor (Y/L/N)? She looks like she’s going to cry any second."
They noticed you didn’t sit beside each other at meals anymore. They noticed Severus staring daggers across the Great Hall when you leaned a little too close to Lupin while laughing quietly at a joke — the first laugh you’d managed in days. They noticed you fleeing like a frightened bird the second you caught Severus looking.
It wasn’t a secret anymore. Not really. The castle practically reeked of heartbreak.
The fire crackled in the staff lounge Friday night, filling the room with soft light and the faint smell of burning wood. Minerva sat stiffly in her armchair, her tea untouched and forgotten in her hand. Her mouth was pressed into a tight, furious line as she glared into the flames.
Pomona sat across from her, sipping her own tea, looking equally grim. Filius perched at the edge of the sofa, fidgeting restlessly with his sleeves.
None of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Minerva slammed her cup down with a sharp clink, making both Pomona and Filius jump.
"Enough," Minerva hissed. "I've had enough of those two acting like bloody children."
Pomona nodded fiercely. "They’re absolutely miserable. And they’re making us miserable too!"
Filius sighed, shaking his head. "It’s gotten out of hand. Entire classes are on edge. The Hufflepuffs thought Severus was going to hex them into next week over a spilled cauldron."
"And (Y/N) barely even talks anymore," Pomona added sadly. "She used to light up the whole room."
Minerva scowled even deeper. "They're stubborn as mules. Both of them. Too damn proud to apologize."
At that moment, the door swung open and Remus walked in, carrying a book.
He stopped dead at the sight of the three of them, the heavy atmosphere hitting him like a physical force.
"...What's going on?" he asked cautiously.
Pomona immediately launched into it. "It's Severus and (Y/N)! They’ve stopped speaking! They're sulking about like heartbroken teenagers and it’s driving everyone mad."
Remus frowned, setting his papers down. "I thought they were just… keeping to themselves?"
Minerva gave him a look so sharp it could have cut through steel.
"Remus," she said, voice dry as sandpaper, "they're in a relationship. Or they were, until they both decided to be complete idiots about it."
Remus blinked. "Wait— they were together? Since when?"
"Since always," Filius said, throwing his hands up. "We’ve all known for months! It was about as subtle as Peeves with a megaphone! You'd have to be blind not to notice."
Pomona snorted into her tea. "Honestly, the way Severus looks at her — like she hung the bloody stars."
Remus raised his eyebrows, still trying to catch up. "Alright, alright, but maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they just need some space to—"
"Severus took fifty points from a Slytherin — his own house — for breathing too loudly and then another ten when they blinked at him" Minerva interrupted.
"And (Y/N)," Pomona chimed in, "cried while bottling Potions ingredients yesterday and tried to blame it on allergies."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Remus slowly sank into the nearest chair, dropping the book he was holding onto the side carelessly.
"What's the plan?" he asked simply.
They leaned in, scheming like a group of schoolchildren plotting a prank.
Minerva, the sanest among them, proposed simply trapping them in a room together until they talked. Flitwick eagerly offered to enchant the door to only open with a "sufficiently affectionate display".
It was decided — they were going to intervene.
One way or another, Severus Snape and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were finally going to talk.
If not on their own.
Then with force.
You were halfway through grading essays in your office the next day when a soft knock came at the door.
You looked up to see Remus leaning casually against the frame, a pleasant (and suspiciously innocent) smile on his face.
"(Y/N), could you help me with something real quick?" he asked. "Just a bit of sorting in my classroom."
You blinked, frowning slightly, but nodded. "Sure. I could use a break anyway."
You followed him down the corridors in comfortable silence, the castle humming around you with its usual low magic. When you reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Remus opened the door and gestured you inside.
"Hang on, I forgot something I need," he said, backing away before you could respond. "Just wait here a moment."
You watched him leave, the door swinging shut behind him, feeling a strange prickle at the back of your neck. Still, you shrugged it off and wandered slowly around the room, idly examining the new spells he had chalked on the blackboard.
As times passes you start to slowly wander around the room before nervously tapping against a desk.
That's when the door finally opened again.
You turned just in time to see Severus being shoved — unceremoniously and not gently — into the room by Remus and Minerva. Behind them, Pomona and Filius hovered, beaming.
Before you could react, the door slammed shut again with a thud, followed by an unmistakable click of a locking spell.
Remus' voice floated cheerfully through the door: "You’re not getting out until you sort it out. Talk."
You and Severus both stood frozen, staring at the door like two cats trapped in a broom cupboard.
The classroom seemed suddenly much too small. Much too hot.
You swallowed hard and slowly turned to face him.
Severus looked... wrecked.
His hair was messier than usual, shadows carved deep under his eyes, mouth set in a grim line. He stared at you like a drowning man seeing land for the first time in weeks.
You wanted to speak. You wanted to run.
Neither of you moved at first.
Seconds stretched into minutes, weighed down with everything unsaid between you.
Finally, you broke, your voice hoarse and trembling.
"I’m sorry," you whispered. "I shouldn’t have tried to force you into making our relationship public. I should’ve realized you didn’t want people to know about me."
That made Severus moved faster than you could blink. In three strides, he was in front of you, hands cupping your face, holding you like you might disappear.
"Stop," he said fiercely. "You’re wrong. This is not at all what it was about."
Your breath caught.
"I was never ashamed of you," he rasped. "Never. I was scared." He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice low and urgent. "Scared that you would start to agree with what they say about me and I didn’t want them to make you regret loving me."
Tears prickled at your eyes. "Severus—"
"I’m sorry," he murmured against your skin. "I’m so sorry for making you feel unwanted. I never...wanted to make you feel that way. I love you with everything I am and just don't want to lose you." He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, and there it was — the raw, aching truth written all over his face.
"I love you too," you whispered.
He didn’t hesitate — he kissed you, deep and slow, like he was anchoring himself to you, and you to him.
The door swung open mid-kiss with a loud creak.
You broke apart just enough to see Minerva, Sprout, Flitwick, and Remus peering in, all of them grinning like they'd won a prize.
"Finally," Minerva said briskly. "Took you both long enough."
Flitwick gave a little cheer. Sprout dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Remus chuckled looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
Severus didn't release you. If anything, he tightened his grip, scowling. You, however, laughed—a real, free laugh that you hadn't felt in days.
"You all knew?" you said incredulously.
"Obviously," Minerva said with a sniff.
"You two were about as subtle as a Hippogriff at a tea party," Flitwick added cheerfully.
Severus growled lowly, but you just leaned into him, grinning. He tightened his arms around you, glaring half-heartedly at your "rescuers."
"Well," Remus said, looking smug, "I'd say this mission was a success."
"Now," Sprout said with mock sternness, "no more moping around, you hear me?"
"Understood," you said, giggling.
"Will all of you kindly mind your own business from now on?" Severus drawled, though the tight way his mouth twitched, gave him away.
"You'll thank us later," Minerva said primly, before the four of them turned and strolled away, chatting like they hadn’t just staged an emotional intervention.
Severus kissed your forehead softly, murmuring so only you could hear, "Never letting you go again."
You smiled against his chest, heart full for the first time in days.
"You’re stuck with me" you teased.
He kissed the top of your head, holding you tighter.
"Good."
Neither of you moved for a long, long time.
On Monday the atmosphere in Severus Snape’s dungeon classroom was... tense, to say the least.
Students sat rigid at their tables, quills poised, eyes wide and terrified — ready to either flee or fake their deaths if necessary.
After the week they had just survived — a week of hex-level glares, unjust point deductions, and verbal lacerations sharp enough to wound egos permanently — no one knew what mood Professor Snape might be in today.
The man himself swept into the room, black robes billowing dramatically as always.
But something was... different.
He didn't slam his books onto the desk. He didn't immediately demand silence with a sneer. He... stood there.
Silent. Still.
And then he spoke.
"I owe you all an apology."
There was a collective gasp loud enough to echo off the stone walls.
A Slytherin at the front dropped her ink bottle, A Gryffindor in the back visibly recoiled like he'd been hit with a hex, A Hufflepuff almost fell out of her chair in shock.
Severus continued, voice unnervingly calm, "My behavior over the past week has been... unacceptable."
More stunned silence.
One brave Ravenclaw cautiously raised her hand.
"Sir?" she squeaked. "Are you—are you feeling alright?"
A muscle in Severus’ jaw twitched but to everyone's mounting horror, he nodded.
"I was... dealing with personal matters," he said stiffly. "Poorly."
Several students glanced at each other like they were witnessing a Dementor trying to sing a lullaby.
Severus took a slow breath through his nose, clearly regretting every moment of this.
"I will endeavor," he said, voice clipped and strangled like the words were physically painful, "to be less... insufferable going forward."
Complete silence.
Someone coughed nervously.
Someone else might have prayed for deliverance.
"That being said," Severus added, eyes gleaming dangerously now, "do not mistake this moment of mercy for weakness. You are still expected to perform at an acceptable level, or I will happily resume making your lives a living hell."
The students relaxed just a little — this at least was familiar territory.
Satisfied, Severus gave a sharp nod and turned to the board, flicking his wand to write out today’s lesson.
The class sat in a stunned, almost reverent silence for the next hour, not daring to speak above a whisper.
Later — much later — word spread like wildfire through the common rooms:
Professor Snape had apologized.
Voluntarily.
Without being cursed or Polyjuiced.
And then, just when the students thought the world couldn't get any stranger —
They saw it.
In the courtyard, right after dinner, with no warning at all.
Professor Snape — the walking embodiment of sarcasm and nightmares — was standing with Professor (Y/L/N).
And he was holding her hand.
He was actually leaning into her, his free hand brushing against her back in a way that was almost... affectionate.
At first, students just stared, unsure if their eyes were playing tricks on them.
Then it got worse.
Professor Snape said something — something soft — and she laughed. An actual laugh. Out loud.
And then He smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a sneer.
Smiled. A real, soft,
genuine smile.
Wide-eyed horror spread like wildfire.
A few students froze mid-step, staring like they’d witnessed a ghost duel.
Then — the final nail in the coffin — Professor Snape leaned down and kissed Professor (Y/L/N) in full view of everyone.
Slow. Soft. Real.
The courtyard exploded into silent, paralyzed chaos.
One student tripped over their own robes and faceplanted into the grass. Several first-years fled the courtyard, shrieking about love potions and dark magic. Some stared up at the sky as if expecting the sky to fall down any second. A small group of Hufflepuffs tried very hard to pretend they hadn’t seen anything. One tripped over a bench in the process.
A Slytherin immediately started writing a letter home, convinced the world was ending while their friend just sat down in the middle of the courtyard and muttered, "I'm dreaming. This isn’t real. I'm still in Potions class, someone wake me up."
Two Ravenclaws pulled out spellbooks, frantically flipping to the "Curses and Hexes" section.
For many students, it was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened at Hogwarts.
But you and Severus didn't notice.
All you could see was each other.