autumn | severus snape

sixty six

They barely slept the night before.

Ophelia had curled into his side as the fire dimmed in the hearth, their bodies tangled in silence more intimate than words. Neither dared say what they were both thinking, that this was the last night they'd fall asleep like this for a long time. Maybe ever.

She'd buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in as though it could tether her to the present. He had stayed still, one hand moving slowly through her hair, the other resting over her back like a warding spell.

Severus hadn't said anything when she cried.

At some point, they stopped pretending they could sleep. She made tea instead, and they sat at the small table by the window, watching the sky turn to ash and rose. He traced circles along the rim of his mug. She watched the steam rise and vanish.

She had packed the day before, meticulously, like the act of folding clothes and arranging vials could keep her heart from coming undone. But in the morning, she moved through the house like a ghost, memorizing every creaking floorboard and shelf, every shadow where the light hit just right.

She opened the drawer in their bedroom and looked at her medal next to Severus's. Order of Merlin. First Class. She thought that Professor McGonagall was right, it did remind her that they had made it. And that they would make it again.

He carried her bag when it was time. He opened the door. He took her hand.

The station was nearly empty in the early morning haze, fog curling around the platform like it wanted to hold her back. Ophelia gripped the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Severus was beside her, still and composed as always, but she could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

"This is it, then," she said softly, her voice catching in her throat.

He said nothing, only nodding once, his jaw set in that stubborn way she knew too well. She hated that nod. That calm, composed quiet. She wanted him to yell. To shake her. To beg her not to go.

Instead, she reached for his hand. He didn't pull away.

"Am I making a mistake?" she whispered.

Severus shook his head slightly. "No, Ophelia." His voice was steady, but his hand trembled slightly in hers. "It's like you said, this opportunity only comes once in a lifetime."

The finality in his tone nearly broke her.

"Maybe you only come once in a lifetime."

He looked away.

"Say something," she said, her voice cracking now. "Ask me to stay."

There was a pause. The kind that stretched across a lifetime.

"I cannot," he said finally. "You must go."

And she knew he was right. She had fought for this moment, worked tirelessly to prove herself. And yet, a part of her wanted to throw it all away if it meant she could stay by his side for just a minute longer.

"Why?"

His fingers tightened around her hand, his grip firm but not painful. "You know why," he said, voice rough.

"I want to hear it."

Severus nodded, slowly meeting her gaze. "Because I love you," he said. Quiet. Fragile. True.

A sob threatened to escape her lips, but she swallowed it down as she surged forward, crashing into him, her hands threading into his hair as she kissed him with everything she had left. He met her with equal intensity, his hands framing her face, his lips desperate, unrelenting. There was no patience in it, no softness, only need, only longing, only the cruel knowledge that this was the last time.