autumn | severus snape

fifty

Ophelia stood in the wreckage, her breath uneven as she tried to steady herself. The sounds of the battle had faded, leaving only the occasional groan of the wounded and the rustle of movement as the Order tended to their own. Severus had gone to treat the injured. The acrid smell of burnt wood and singed cloth clung to the air, mixing with the damp scent of disturbed earth.

Her father was gone. He had retreated, vanishing into the night like a shadow once Severus had revealed his hand. But it wasn't over.

It was never over.

Ophelia's fingers trembled as she pushed her hair from her face, streaks of dirt and blood staining her skin. She forced herself to move, stepping over fallen branches and scorched ground, scanning the bodies around her. Most were still breathing. Most.

Her heart pounded as she searched for the only faces she could think about. She reached for the stone in her pocket, sending a message to Teddy. She never received an answer.

"Teddy?" Her voice cracked as she turned, dread curling in her stomach. "Draco?"

A figure stumbled toward her, disheveled but very much alive.

"I'm here," Draco rasped, his blonde hair darkened with soot. His gray eyes were sharp but filled with something that made her chest tighten. Relief. He reached for her, his hands gripping her shoulders like he needed to make sure she was real. "Are you hurt?"

Ophelia shook her head. "You?"

"No," Draco whispered.

"Teddy," she said again, more desperate this time.

Draco's expression faltered.

And then she knew.

"No." She shook her head, stumbling back, eyes darting across the clearing, searching, praying.

And then she saw him.

A few feet away, slumped against a tree, his wand still clutched in his hand.

"Teddy!"

She ran. She flew.

She dropped to her knees beside him, hands pressing against his chest as if she could hold him together, as if she could fix this.

But he was gone.

Ophelia's breath came in short, panicked bursts as she clutched at Teddy's still hand, her fingers numb with shock. Her vision blurred, the world around her shrinking, narrowing to this single moment, this unbearable, irreversible loss.

"What happened?" she choked out, her voice raw, desperate.

Draco knelt beside her, his face pale, his expression unreadable. But his voice, his voice was quiet, almost hollow. "Your father," he murmured. "He cast one curse tonight... and this was it."

Ophelia's mind raced, fragments of the battle flashing before her eyes. She had seen it, the streak of deadly green light slicing through the air, striking a group of Order members. She remembered watching, unable to stop it.

But now the realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.

"He could have sent it toward me," she whispered, her pulse hammering in her ears. "He had the chance... he should have. But he didn't." Her stomach twisted as she turned to Draco, her voice barely above a breath. "Why?"

Draco's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. "Maybe he wanted to hurt you more than he wanted to kill you."

Ophelia shook her head, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Her father had aimed carefully. Deliberately.

Draco put a steady hand on her shoulder. "Your father only cares about power. He doesn't want you dead, Ophelia. He wants to break you. He wants you to surrender. You can't give him that."

Ophelia's fingers curled into fists, her entire body trembling with rage and devastation.

Teddy had died because of her.

Her father had made sure of it.

𖠇

Teddy lay still on the hospital bed, his face too pale, too still. It didn't look like him, not really. He had always been so full of life, always moving, always talking, always there. And now... he wasn't.

Ophelia stood at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold herself together. Her breath came shallow, her heart aching with every second that passed.

Ana was curled up in one of the far beds, still deep in sleep, blissfully unaware of what had happened. Ophelia envied her for that, for the ignorance that came before the grief. She wished she could shield her from it forever.

Professor McGonagall sat in a chair near the door, her usual stern expression softened with quiet sorrow. Sprout stood next to her, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Even Severus was there, standing stiffly at the edge of the room, his face unreadable but his presence unwavering.

Alya clung to Andrew, silent tears running down her face. Draco stood beside Ophelia, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wasn't crying, but she could see it in his face, the grief, the anger, the helplessness.

No one spoke.

Ophelia brushed her hand through Teddy's hair before planting the gentlest of kisses on his head. She wanted him to laugh, to giggle, to say that it was all a big joke. No such luck.

Ophelia lifted her gaze, and across the dimly lit hospital wing, her eyes met Severus's.

A silent exchange.

She didn't know what she was asking him for, for comfort, for understanding, for some reassurance that this pain wasn't going to swallow her whole. But he held her stare, unwavering, as if he knew exactly what she needed. There was no pity there, no empty words of solace, only quiet acknowledgment. He knew grief. He knew loss.

A shaky breath escaped her.

"Theodore!"

Everyone turned to the big doors that Isaiah and Agnes Bentley rushed through. Agnes was crying hysterically, Isaiah looked unusually somber. The glint in his eyes and small smile that was always playing on his lips had left no trace on his saddened expression.

Ophelia stepped away from the bed, giving them space to say goodbye.

"Oh, no!" Agnes cried out, cradling her child in her arms.

Isaiah put a hand on his wife's head, running it through her hair soothingly. Ophelia could only watch the exchange, feeling helpless and guilty. And then Isaiah met her gaze, and Ophelia couldn't help but cry some more.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, not trusting her voice would hold.

Isaiah smiled, a terribly sad smile, before stalking towards her. She took a deep breath. But Isaiah caught her by surprise.

He put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her deep into an embrace. Ophelia's eyes widened as she froze in place, never had she known such comfort from a parent. And then she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, closing her eyes and holding on for dear life, not caring that she was staining his white dress shirt with her tears.

"You did your best, Ophelia," he whispered in her ear, "and that is all anyone can ever ask of you."

And then he cried into her hair.

The world shattered.