autumn | severus snape

AUTUMN

It was the first of August when they had last seen each other. He had told her about her father's plan to assemble death eaters, those who had managed to flee after the war, anyway. Severus had returned to Hogwarts after that, leaving both parties disappointed with one another. His days consisted of meetings at Malfoy Manor and preparing his class syllabus, which usually ended with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand.

Mr Delisle was slightly more lenient with physical punishment than his previous master, and so, thankfully, these meetings didn't take the same toll on his body. Still, he was exhausted. He had barely had a year to recover before being thrown back into some game once more. Kingsley Shacklebolt, current Minister of Magic, caught wind of Tom Delisle's overseas communication and had paid Severus a particularly unpleasant visit. Asking, no, demanding Severus' services in exchange for being pardoned of all crimes he'd committed in the last war, and was most likely to commit in the future. Of course, this meant no one else could know where his true loyalties lie, forcing Harry Potter to never speak a word of what he had seen in the pensive in the Headmaster's office.

Severus found it irritating to not be vindicated against all those who openly sneered at him, called him a coward. Minerva McGonagall was one of few who knew his real part in the war, otherwise she wouldn't have let him within ten miles of the school. However, he was coming back to teach students who had once known him as their Headmaster, and he was well aware that it was going to be difficult for everyone involved.

If Severus, for once, could be in control of his own life, he would have liked to live in solitude. Perhaps purchase a house by the coast, open an apothecary. Of course, he knew it could only ever be wishful thinking, having everyone's lives in his hands but his own. Resentment became his defense mechanism, putting the world and everyone in it behind fifty feet of glass. Feeling unprotected brought out his survival mode; cold and indifferent.

Severus was always strategic and prepared, but not when it came to Ophelia. There was no plan in which he could have ever imagined having to factor her in. There was a constant tug between solitude and her company, the desire to be loved and the fear of being left behind.

Now, without her, neither in promise nor bodily presence, there was a hole inside him. And so he built his walls a bit taller. Caring came with strings and responsibilities to protect. However, autumn arrived like a storm and he cared for her deeply anyway.