Chapter Text
The dungeons of Hogwarts were never truly warm, but for Severus Snape, the chill had seeped past his skin and settled deep into his marrow. It was his sixth year, and the stone walls that once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a tomb.
Severus sat at a back desk in Potions, his fingers stained with the juices of shrivelfig and powdered moonstone. His eyes, dark and restless, were fixed not on his cauldron, but on the back of a dark red head several rows ahead.
Lily.
She hadn't spoken to him in months. Not since the "incident" by the lake. Not since he had let that foul word slip—a word born of humiliation and a desperate, fractured pride. But it wasn't just the word. It was the company he kept. He could feel the heavy gaze of Avery and Mulciber from across the room, their silent approval a weight he both craved and loathed. They spoke of a New Order, of the Dark Lord who recognized talent regardless of blood, provided that talent was wielded with ruthlessness.
"You’re staring again, Sev," Mulciber whispered during the cleanup, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips. "She’s a lost cause, a Mudblood through and through. Why waste your intellect on a girl who spends her weekends mooning over that fool Potter.
Severus didn't answer. He watched Lily laugh—a bright, silver sound that felt like glass grinding against his heart—as James Potter leaned over her desk to whisper something in her ear. Potter’s hand brushed her shoulder, a casual, arrogant intimacy that made Severus’s wand hand twitch inside his robes.
James Potter had everything: the wealth, the looks, the effortless charm, and now, he was systematically dismantling the only thing Severus truly owned-his friendship with Lily.
Later that evening, Severus cornered her in a secluded corridor near the Charms classroom.
"Lily, wait," he hissed, his voice cracking with a desperation he hated.
She stopped, but she didn't turn around immediately; her shoulders were tense. When she finally faced him, her green eyes—once his only source of light—were cold and tired.
"What is it, Severus? I have a Prefect meeting."
"I saw you with him. Potter," he spat the name like it was poison. "He’s a bully, Lily. He’s a hollow, arrogant. You’re better than that."
"At least he doesn't want to join a cult of murderers," Lily replied, her voice low and dangerous. "I’ve heard what everyone talks about you and those evil Slytherin boys you called friends, Severus. I’ve seen the books you’re reading. Dark Arts isn't just a hobby for you anymore, it’s becoming you."
"I'm doing it for a reason!" he stepped closer, his shadow looming over her in the torchlight. He smelled of old parchment and the bitter, metallic scent of cigarettes he’d taken to smoking in the Astronomy tower. "With that power, I could protect you, Lily. I could be someone, not just the poor boy from Spinner’s End."
"I don't need a protector, Severus and I’m sure I don’t need someone who smells of blood " Lily spat, her voice trembling. "James is... he’s changing, he’s becoming a good man and you’re just becoming more of what you always were. Don't follow me anymore, Severus. We aren't friends. We haven't been for a long time."
She walked away, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply against the stone.
Severus stood in the darkness, his heart a cold, hard knot in his chest. He watched her go, a possessive fury rising in him that felt more potent than any potion. He wouldn't lose her. He couldn't. If Potter wanted to play the hero, Severus would become the monster that tore the hero’s world apart.
He reached into his pocket and felt the scrap of parchment Avery had given him. It was an invitation, a meeting during the summer holidays, a chance to serve someone who would never ask him to apologize for his brilliance.
I will have you, Lily, he thought, his eyes narrowing as he watched the flickering shadows on the wall. By blood or by magic, you will be mine, with or without your consent…
The words lingered.
Twisted.
Final.
“You will come back to me.”