autumn | severus snape

fifty three

The castle halls felt emptier than ever, though Ophelia knew it was only in her mind. The grief still sat heavy in her chest, pressing against her ribs with every breath, and no amount of cold winter air or whispered reassurances could ease it. Crossbreeding the hybrid plant offered a temporary distraction, but now when she could do nothing but wait, the walls seemed to close in again.

She hadn't spoken to Severus since the battle. Not since he had walked past her in the corridor, his dismissal sharp enough to cut. She had told herself she wouldn't go looking for him, that when he was ready he would come to her. But as she wandered through the dim corridors, searching, she knew she couldn't stay away.

Ophelia stopped outside his office door, her heart pounding in her ears. She hesitated, fingers curling into a fist at her side before she forced herself to knock.

No answer.

She knocked again, firmer this time.

Still nothing.

Her frustration flared. He was avoiding her. He was always avoiding her.

Ophelia reached for the handle, pushing the door open without permission. The room was dark, save for the flickering candlelight illuminating the piles of parchment on his desk. And there he was, standing by the shelves, his back to her, stiff as though he had sensed her presence the moment she entered.

"You don't knock anymore?" he said, his voice quiet, tired.

"I did," she shot back. "You just didn't answer."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Severus exhaled slowly, his shoulders rising and falling. "I heard they took him back to England."

Ophelia swallowed, her voice a quiet whisper. "Yes."

He slowly turned to face her. "Why are you here, Ophelia?"

She clenched her jaw, stepping further inside. "You know why."

His expression tightened. He looked away, staring at the flickering candle as if it held all the answers.

"Ophelia, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," she cut in, stepping closer. Her voice was quiet but steady,  filled with a raw desperation that tightened something in his chest. "You already did. In the forest."

Severus's jaw tensed, his breath coming a little too sharply at the memory of that night, the battle, the moment he had thought he'd lose her, the way he had not been able to stop himself from reaching for her, from saving her.

She took another step forward. "You said you didn't want to play a game anymore, so why are you still playing?"

His gaze snapped back to hers, something flickering in the depths of his eyes, guilt, longing, something dangerous.

"I'm not playing," he murmured, though even to his own ears, it sounded like a lie.

Ophelia shook her head, frustrated. "Then be honest with me. I need to know that I'm not chasing a fantasy."

His throat tightened. She was asking for something he didn't know how to give, words had never been his ally. Actions, sacrifices, unspoken devotion... that was all he knew. But she deserved more than that.

He had always been so careful, so precise, so willing to push her away in order to protect her. But she wasn't giving him that option anymore.

Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers unclenched. He exhaled shakily, his gaze flickering over her face, the determination in her jaw, the heartbreak in her eyes, the unwavering belief that somewhere, beneath all his self-inflicted torment, there was a man capable of choosing love over fear. And at last, his restraint shattered.