autumn | severus snape

forty nine

The forest was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt unnatural, pressing in from all sides. The moonlight barely filtered through the thick canopy above, leaving only shifting shadows to guide her. But Ophelia didn't hesitate. Her boots crunched against the frozen earth as she followed Severus deeper into the darkness, her heart pounding against her ribs. She had been right. The Order was gathering, Teddy and Draco splitting off toward the rally point.

She caught sight of his dark figure moving swiftly through the trees, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow untethered.

"Wait!" Ophelia's voice broke as she called after him, desperation clawing at her chest.

He didn't stop. He didn't even look back.

Her heart pounded in her chest, raw and frantic, as she pushed herself harder, her feet slipping in the snow as she ran after him.

"Severus!" She screamed again, her voice cracking.

This time, he paused, his shoulders stiffened, his steps faltering for just a second. But he didn't turn around. He didn't face her.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low, but she could hear the strain beneath it.

Ophelia stumbled to a stop behind him, chest heaving, her breath visible in the cold air.

"Neither should you," she shot back. "Tell me you're not doing this. Tell me you're not going to fight for him."

Still, he didn't face her. His shoulders tensed, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Severus," she pleaded, stepping forward, her fingers trembling as she reached for his arm.

"Go back to Draco, Ophelia," he said, his voice harsh.

Ophelia shook her head, her grip on his arm tightening. "I don't want to go to Draco," she said quietly. "I want to stay with you."

Severus closed his eyes, willing himself to be stronger, to be colder. But she was warmth in a way he had never known, and the heat of her presence chipped away at his resolve.

Severus exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "Let go, Ophelia," he said, but there was no real weight to the command.

She didn't.

"Please.. don't go."

Fate was cruel, indeed, Severus thought. Ophelia believed in him, she was willing to fight for him, and she was begging him to stay.. and he had to somehow refuse.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and distant. "You need to leave."

Ophelia huffed in frustration. "If that's what you really want, then you need to look at me and tell me you don't want me," she challenged.

Severus stood still, his breathing uneven. She was asking the impossible.

"Look at me," she repeated, her hand trailing down his arm, fingers slipping over his wrist, his palm.

His hand curled into a fist.

"Ophelia..." he warned.

"Say it," she dared. "Tell me you don't want me, and I'll leave."

Silence.

Severus could lie about many things, had built his entire existence on deception. But this, her, he could not.

He turned then, finally facing her, his face shadowed by the night. "It's done. I have to go."

Her breath caught in her throat, disbelief surging through her. Ophelia shook her head, her nails digging into the fabric of his sleeve.