the day before you came - severus snape x reader

Chapter 5 - The Day Before You Came

It's half past two when you quietly close the door of your flat behind you. Climbing down the stairs, you reach into the pocket of your coat and your fingers fish out a cigarette – your seventh, you think.

At this time of the night, the waves of sadness normally hit the hardest, but tonight you don't even notice that you're blue.

The last year went over in a blur of sleepless nights and busy days. It helped to keep yourself occupied with college work, but the nights were the worst. Once your mind came to a halt, the memories returned, and your shattered heart started to prick your insides painfully, night after night.

You dragged yourself through the business of the day, with no aim but to survive long enough to hopefully fall into a deep, dreamless slumber at nightfall.

You couldn't say that your essays became exceptionally better, in fact they became worse, because you just wrote. Wrote until your fingers felt numb and your brain mushy, not focusing on the task your professors gave you, but simply keeping your mind busy.

You didn't wrote about him, for you didn't allow your mind to wander far enough off to him at day. You fought to hide that part of you away, struggling to keep the cage closed, but still, it crept out of it under the cover of the night.

Your professor's attempts to talk to you died down rather quickly. The walls you built managed to keep them out and their worries never fully subsided, but they gave up on you after a few weeks of futile effort and increasingly snarky responses on your part. You knew it wasn't right to take out your anger and demise on them, but you've realized that attack was the best form of defence for you.

You light your cigarette. The canopy keeps you sheltered from the rain that rattles monotonously on the roof and the hot smoke burns your lungs, but it's a welcoming feeling – feeling anything at all makes you not want to die, you discovered a few months ago, and exchanging the heartbreak with physical pain allowed you to take off your mind a bit.

You hated the fact that he made you reach for alcohol and cigarettes so much you sometimes didn't recognize your own face in the broken mirror of your flat, but then again -

it became a matter of routine and it was your own decision to leave him.

For your own good, you remember yourself, because at these times you sometimes forget and long for him so deeply you cry yourself to sleep on the bathroom floor.

The smoke escapes your lungs, startled, when a blue glimmer flashes before your eyes.

The rain starts to soak through your thin coat – you remembered to put something on, at least – as you walk towards the unfamiliar glow, your eyes fixed on the figure that dances in the far back of the old playground across your street.

Your steps quicken and you seem to make out a form in the blue hue. It looks like a big dog, maybe a wolf, its ears perked up attentively, nose on the ground like it's trying to pick up a scent.

You trip over the kerbstone and onto the street, curiosity growing inside of you.

You feel a strange prickling sensation in your fingertips and a cold shiver runs over your body. The wolf jerks his head up, a low growl escapes his throat, and he stalks towards you, his eyes fixed on something behind you.

An icy breeze runs through your hair, your vision blurs a bit and you start to shiver. Strange, you think, as it's only late August. The swing creaks softly in the night air.

"Oi! Watch ya step!"

You swirl around, startled at the sound of squeaking breaks and a sharp and shrill voice.

You squint at the sudden burst of glaring light hurting your eyes. An intimidatingly large, dark silhouette towers over you – a bus? You squint harder.

"Hop on or pave the way, lad!", commands the voice with no particular emphasis. A talking bus?

"We haven't got all evening."

"You sound awfully bored for someone in such a hurry", you answer, slightly out of breath, but terribly irritated by the speaker.

Talking to a bus, you're officially mental now, you mock yourself – but then again, you just imagined a blue, glowing wolf. You start to turn around again, to check if it's still here, but the voice screeches out a short laugh and then there's movement, although the bus-like form stands perfectly still, and you're startled and alert.

"Can't see a damn thing in this light", you mutter annoyed, as you try to make out the new silhouette that shuffled to the sidewalk. A tall, lanky boy, couldn't be older than 17, stands before you and grins into the darkness. You throw your burnt cigarette to the ground, quickly crush it with your foot and walk closer to the stranger.

"I'll try again: Get on or sod off."

You snort at his coarse words, but can't help to return the grin. This feels like an odd reason to smile again.

"Why should I get on that decayed thing?", you ask and point to the bus. It sure looks like it could use some mending, to be fair.

A shriek comes out of the inside of the vehicle.

"Aw, he's deeply insulted. Don't think I can get you a ticket anymore, luv", he feigns disappointment, but sticks out his hand nonetheless.

"Stan Shunpike. Pleasure."

Entering the bus, it feels like a weight lifts from your shoulders. You let out a deep breath and turn to look back out of the window. Your flat looks strangely irrelevant between the crouched houses. Across the street, the playground lays dark and quiet before you. Stan closes the doors.

You fall onto one of the beds there are instead of seats. A sudden wave of tiredness overcomes you and you can't be bothered to wonder about your seating situation – or the situation in general. You don't know where this wondrous vehicle brings you, you haven't got a single belonging with you but your wallet and keys and this whole wolf-and-drop-in-temperature-thingy is still on your mind.

But despite it all, you are not scared. There burns a kindling flame deep inside your stomach and it feels, against all odds and logic, like hope.

A shuffling noise behind you snaps you awake again, and you turn around.

A man stands before you. His brown hair falls into his curious eyes and his features look soft despite the scars that faintly mark his face. You don't know him, but you still feel strangely content.

"Nasty creatures, hm?", he asks gently and plops down onto the bed across you. You frown at his question.

"What do you mean? Stan?"

He laughs quietly, then reaches into the leather bag he carries. "Here, eat." 

You take the chocolate bar out of his hand, still madly confused.

"Don't worry", he goes on. "I'm still not used to them, even though they are quite common, unfortunately."

You nibble on the chocolate and hum, not knowing which reaction he expects from you.

"Are you feeling better?"

You just worked out a snide remark – it's just chocolate, Sir – when you stop yourself. You do feel better, weirdly. He laughs at the astonished look in your eyes and leans back.

"My name's Remus Lupin by the way. Professor at Hogwarts", he offers with a sly grin.

You're still chewing the chocolate when you finally find your words again: "Excuse me, Sir, but I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

A.N.: Aaand off we go besties! I hope y'all like it so far xx