I know you guys don't like Y/N right now, I don't either. But. Be patient, my loves. - G
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
Severus Snape stares at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, looking very enraged, very bitter, and very discouraged. His hands are gripped tightly at his sides, knuckles white, and his chest visibly moves as he breathes maddeningly. The office of the Headmaster is dim, poorly lit, how Snape prefers it as of late.
Term is resuming tomorrow - five weeks have passed since Severus Snape has spoken to or seen you. From what Narcissa has relayed to him, the Dark Lord is off with a handful of his followers, doing Merlin knows what. You weren't included. So, where are you?
"Well?!" Snape demands.
The portrait of Albus Dumbledore sighs. The late wizard leans back in his seat.
"I told you a long time ago, Severus, that Miss Reynolds shouldn't have distracted you. If she has truly chosen the path of darkness, you need to forget about her."
Snape scoffs, lurching forward and grasping his portrait. He yanks it off the wall and raises it above his head, fully intending to smash it agaisnt the stone floors of the Headmaster's Office.
Gritting his teeth, his shaking hands slowly lower the portrait and shoves it back onto the wall. He inhales, nostrils flaring, and paces to the desk.
Exhaustedly, he collapses, leaning back into the chair.
Where are the fuck you? Snape thinks.
Pursing his lips, he grabs the Daily Prophet and opens it, looking for any clues on where Harry Potter, No. 1 Most Undesirable, may be.
They've charged Potter with involvement of the murder of Albus Dumbledore. How ironic that it was Snape to kill Dumbledore and he is Headmaster of Hogwarts, while Potter is innocent and on the run.
Tolby, Snape's loyal castle elf, appears in the room whilst Snape finishes reading the paper. He walks to Snape slowly, stopping at the edge of his desk. Snape lowers the Prophet, arching a brow down to him.
"Headmaster Snape... a letter from Mistress Malfoy..."
Tolby you reaches into his tattered robes and pulls out a simple envelope. Snape grabs it and opens it with no hesitance.
Severus,
A few days after the Battle of the Seven Potters, the Minister of Magic was killed. Do you remember? I overheard the healer speaking with Cain in her room today. Apparently, Y/N was the one to kill him. She used her status as a member of the Order of the Phoenix to get to him. I'm unsure of the rest of the details. Have you heard from her? Cain has not and she is her father. I wonder what she is doing. She's making Lucius look worst, carrying out dutiful work for the Dark Lord. Write back when you can.
Narcissa
Snape swallows to wet his rapidly drying throat and then rereads the letter.
She'll go to Azkaban, if she makes it out of this war alive, Snape horrifically thinks.
No. You can't go to Azkaban. Snape will find a way to save you. That is, if you want to be saved. He wishes he had some way to contact you. Owls are out of the question.
Snape's lips part as he remembers the two way mirror he got for you at the beginning of last school year. Making haste to the Headmaster's chambers, which is connected through the office, he hurries to his trunk, opening it. He rummages through his objects - rare potion ingredients, herbs, gloves and scarves - until he reaches the bottom and grabs the mirror.
He sits down with his back against his trunk, staring into the reflection. All he sees is darkness. He taps on the mirror.
"Y/N?" Snape asks.
He swallows, waiting, intently staring down at the glass. With lips pressed tightly together, all he can feel is the overwhelming emotion of how absent you are in his life right now. Why are you ignoring him? Why are you seeking this separation with him? You wouldn't purposefully make him feel this suffering, so why?
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
With your hood over your head and wand up your sleeve, ready to be withdrawn if need be, you step through the gate of Ilvermorny School of Magic, in America.
It's the end of August. Just days after your freedom was given to you, the Dark Lord called upon you for a mission - to capture Rufus Scrimgeour. Using your status as a Member of the Order, you were granted an audience with him. You lied beautifully. He was lured out of the safety of the Ministry where you then captured him and brought him to the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort interrogated him. When he didn't answer, you tortured him with a variety of curses. When he wouldn't give in, you obeyed the Dark Lord's command to kill him. He died suffocating on his blood.
You feel agonized over it. But, in the moment, you enjoyed it. You haven't spoken to your father about anything, though he is likely to have good advice for you. Hannah, currently at Malfoy Manor whilst your away on this little trip, refuses to speak to you. You've been at her home in Toronto on and off with her. She looks at you, makes you eat with her, and even waits for you by the door when she goes on her evening walks. She never speaks to you though.
You deserve this. You had to kill or be killed. So, you became a killer. You are a killer. Perhaps that's why you've embraced it. There is no turning back for you. If it ever comes out you captured and killed the Minister of Magic, you're done for.
The only thing good out of this is that Voldemort trusts you. Actually trusts you. He admitted that he thought he would have had to kill you. But, now, he compares you to Severus, one of his most loyal servants. In the little amount of time you've been a Death Eater, you've gained favor with Voldemort, but also jealousy amongst several Death Eaters, especially Dolohov. You ignore him. You have better things to be concerned for.
You miss Severus. You were wrong about wanting to feel power. You aren't cut out to be a Death Eater. You haven't eaten or slept in weeks. But, when push comes to shove and you're commanded to do dark acts, you do it without hesitance. What is wrong with you?
The deputy Headmaster of Ilvermorny comes to meet you - Taylor. He was the professor of Charms when you worked here. He's on his way to Headmaster, no doubt. He's in his mid fifties, married with children. Too kind for his own good.
"Is that you, Y/N?"
You nod, removing the hood of your cloak, forcing a smile. He lets you into the castle, then shuts the large doors and begins to ward them. Even Ilvermorny is taking extra precautions.
"I need to speak with Fontaine." You explain.
Taylor nods.
"In his office. Wanting your job back, are you?" He asks.
You laugh.
"No. Just need to...ask him a favor." You explain.
Taylor smiles to you as you begin to walk down the golden corridor. You reminisce as you go through the corridors - pretty portraits, pixies flying around, students smiling at one another. You miss this place.
You take the shortcut to get through Fontaine's office - through the Portrait of Merlin in the general office. When you get to the end of the dark walkway, you knock.
"Enter!" Fontaine allows.
You push the door open and step in, shutting it behind you. Fontaine glances to you, then hops to his feet immediately.
"Professor Reynolds! What a surprise!!" He beams.
You smile warmly and walk to meet him. He embraces you tightly.
"Merlin, I am glad to see you in one piece! I hear that Potter was an accomplice in Albus Dumbledore's murder!" Fontaine exclaims.
He gestures for you to sit down. You get comfortable in the seat across from him as he takes his own seat. You notice his grey hair is longer, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes drift down your body, then back to your eyes.
"I can tell you that it wasn't him, Professor. I came here from Great Britain to ask something of you. I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I am seeking allies to help us. Mad Eye Moody predicted that there will be a final battle. One that will be very difficult and soul shattering. He tasked me with using my connections in America to seek people that will help us."
Fontaine leans back, running a hand through his hair.
"I do know quite a bit of witches and wizards that would be keen to help. With my muggleborn students at greater risk each and each day Voldemort gets stronger, I grow more concerned. I will see who will be agreeable. I'm sure most of them will be."
You lean up and smile widely. This is good. Better than good. This is fantastic. More competent wizards to help defeat Voldemort. This is a game changer. Fontaine himself was a strong dueler and auror back in the day. He, alone, is priceless.
"Thank you, Professor! Thank you! I will tell the order. They'll be thrilled! I'll tell them as soon as I get back to England!"
You stand, feeling a new wave of emotion wash over you. Perhaps the people you've killed will forgive you if you end up saving more lives in return. Yes, that is a good way of looking at things. Fontaine raises a hand, halting you from leaving.
"Miss Reynolds... do I not get to ask a favor in return?" He inquires, vaguely.
You look down at him, furrowing your brows. He smiles, meekly, then his eyes trail down your body. You swallow, an icy rush of unease going down your spine.
"You know I have fancied you ever since you started working here. Perhaps, with a little bit of...intimacy... I could win you over."
He's fucking bold, isn't he? You step back and cover yourself with your cloak. He wants you to have sex with him in exchange for his help. God, you hate men, all men, except for Snape.
"I'm...with someone." You grit out.
"Ah, yes, Headmaster Snape. Well, he doesn't have to know, does he?" Fontaine plays.
You glance to the side, shutting your eyes. You need Fontaine. The Order needs him and his allies. The fucking magical world needs him.
You inhale deeply and walk towards him, eyeing him carefully, unsure of your next move. He smiles widely and leans back, patting his thigh, signaling he wants you to sit there. Mustering up all of your courage, you wedge yourself between his thighs, wondering just what Severus will think of you now.
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
Snape gave up contacting you through the mirror. He tried for nearly an hour. Now, he's in his bed, in his bed clothes, staring into the mirror that he has propped up on his bedside table. It's nearly midnight. If he could just hear your voice. See your eyes. Gaze at your smile. If he just could see you, he'd be able to find sleep.
It tears him apart knowing you're alone. You weren't built for this. Yet, you're doing dark things. Maybe you are capable of this, but, goddamnit this isn't you! This isn't the girl with the pure soul he fell in love with.
Then, like a magical phenomenon, the mirror illuminates brightly. Snape winces, but sits up, the blanket sliding down his chest, his heart beginning to pound in his ears.
"Y/N?"
His voice is hoarse, dry, but you hear him. The light fades from the tip of your wand and you appear in the reflection. You're in a dimly lit kitchen - Snape thinks it's your godmothers.
"Sev." You breathe.
Snape swings his legs over the bed, clearing his throat, examining you. Surely, you wouldn't be contacting him this late for nothing.
"Are you okay?" Snape breathes.
He watches you wipe your eyes. You're tired, too, Snape can tell. He briefly wonders if you're crying. It's too dark to see. You have dark circles beneath your eyes and your cheek bones are more prominent. He wonders if you're eating. He hopes you are.
"I'm fine. You?" You whisper.
Snape doesn't reply.
"What's going on? Why haven't you reached out to me?" Snape asks for instead.
He watches you sit down - you are in Hannah's kitchen. You prop the mirror up against something on the table. Snape watches you lean back in your seat. Your head lulls back and your pretty hair falls over your shoulders.
"I did something terrible, Severus." You begin.
Snape furrows his brows.
"I know you...killed the Minister of Magic." Snape murmurs.
You sit your head up, nodding.
"Yes. I did. But...it is something else. Do you remember Headmaster Fontaine at Slughorn's Christmas party? My old boss."
Snape nods once. He feels a relief spread through him at the sound of your voice, even if it is filled with sadness.
"Is he...dead, too?" Snape asks.
You shake your head, frustratingly.
"No! Moody...Moody said it would be a good idea to get his help. For his support and connections. I went to Ilvermorny a few hours ago to ask him for help. He said...he'd help us. Help the Order. But..."
Snape frowns when your put your face in your hands.
"...he wanted me to fuck him for his help! He's always been flirtatious with me, ever since I was first hired!" You frustratedly reveal.
Snape sneers now. Did you do it? Did you give into that request? Did another man touch you? That disgusting pig will die. Snape will make sure of it. To blackmail you for sex disgusts Snape. For him to dare touch you...
You are his.
"What...happened? You...you did it...?" Snape breathes.
You lower your hands and stare back at Severus. Tears fill your exhausted eyes. Only from your interaction with Fontaine did you realize how much you miss Severus. How much you need him. How wrong you were to linger on the rush of power being a Death Eater enthralls.
Snape looks away from you, also disgusted by you. Don't you love him anymore?
"I...used the Imperius curse on him." You inform.
Snape's head shoots back to you. A wave of relief, then one of pain flurries through him. Another unforgivable curse under your belt.
"I couldn't sleep with him! Even if I tried... I love you too much to do that. I keep using dark magic on those who are innocent...I..." you trail off, voice cracking.
Snape, a wave of relief flooding him, looks at you firmly.
"You are doing what you must to survive, Y/N. Think of the people of our world. Besides, the bastard deserved it if he tried to manipulate you." Snape murmurs.
You look away, unable to hold his eyes. Why would Snape still love you after the terrible things you've done? Snape loved the old you. The good you. The kind, sarcastic, strict, whole woman you once were. Now, you're just a dark witch who kills and uses unforgivable curses. How could he love that? How?
"Darling, please, look at me." Snape requests, voice just above a whisper.
You shake your head, repulsed by yourself and actions.
"Do you still love me?" You choke out.
Snape's lips part. You look back at him, feeling sickened from his silence. Of course he doesn't love you anymore. You aren't intact. You aren't whole. You aren't how Lily Potter was - you aren't perfect.
"It's alright... I should have told the Dark Lord I wanted to teach again... I'm so sick of myself... I understand that you can't love me-"
"Shut up." Snape states, harshly.
Snape's eyes widen slightly. You stare at him, biting the inside of your cheek.
"You're asking me if I still love you? Listen to yourself. I have done much, much worse, cruel things, Y/N, and I am lucky enough for you to have accepted me and to love me."
You listen, motionless, hearing your heart beat through your ears.
"I have loved you since the moment you called me a daft dimbo inside Flourish and Blotts. I have loved you since the moment you stepped into my classroom. I have loved you since I taught you Occlumency. I have loved you since you held my hand at the Yule Ball."
Your breath catches in your throat. Tears silently fall down your face.
"I loved you before I knew I loved you, and I still do in this very moment, and will until my last breath." Snape intones.
You look down, your lips tugging upward, your lap staining with tears.
"I miss you." You breathe.
Snape stares at you, feeling his throat begin to close.
"I love you so much. I'm so stupid." You sigh.
Snape shakes his head.
"I once had a taste of power. I know it is tempting and compelling, but there are other things much more valuable than it. You just got lost. I did too, Y/N. You realized your mistakes early, unlike me. Go to the Dark Lord. Tell him you wish to be placed at Hogwarts." Snape instructs.
You swallow, nodding.
"'Kay."
Snape offers a small smile.
"It will be alright. We will be together soon and we can work to stop him." Snape whispers.
You nod again.
"I'm going to try to go to sleep..." you murmur.
Snape watches you grab the mirror, stand, head to your bedroom.
"Goodnight." You say.
You sit your mirror down, unclasping your cloak, letting it fall to the floor.
"Y/N."
You glance back to the mirror, hearing Snape almost plead your name.
"Hm?" You ask.
You reach down to it, picking it up. Snape's dark eyes stare at you intently, then trail down to your chest. You smile at him, then sit your mirror up, so he can see the full view of you.
"You...want to see me undress...?" You ask, in your best seductive voice.
Maybe this is what you both need right now - to just let go. Snape's lips press together. It's been so long since he's been with you. Even longer since you've slept together. Since you've been painfully absent, he can barely sleep, eat, or function. You are like a need to him. Like a vital organ he needs just to survive.
"Sev?"
Despite your depressing mood, this is perking you up. A smile plays at your lips as you see him battle within himself on what to respond. Is this a lewd request for him to make? You've made no stride in asking for your ring back from him. Do you still want to be his wife? You just said you loved him. Merlin, being with you is frustrating, but he would choose no one else.
"Only if you'd like to undress for me, Miss Reynolds." Snape replies.
You giggle, hands reaching down to grasp the hem of your shirt. You slowly pull it up, staring at him as you do.
"Are you going to touch yourself to the sight of me?" You breathe out.
He groans. You see him position himself against the headboard of his bed. He snakes a hand down, likely between his legs, then arches a brow to you.
"Continue..." Snape requests.
You stare at his eyes that are darting back and forth between your face and chest. You reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting the straps down your arms, but keeping the cups around your breasts. Snape runs his tongue across his lower lip, inhaling a shaky breath.
"You want it off?" You ask.
He cocks his head, looking at you warningly.
"Do not be coy, witch." Snape replies.
A rush of heat runs through every nerve at the dominance of his voice.
"Why don't you tell me what to do, since you're so good at it?" You offer.
Snape shifts, lifting his hips, grabbing his erect member.
"Get on the bed, then."
You grab the mirror and walk to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. You use your wand to levitate it in front of you.
"Bra off." Snape commands.
You tug it down, revealing your chest to him. He inhales through his teeth, nodding approvingly. You grab them without instruction, teasing your nipples until their hard. Snape shifts in bed again, lifting his hips, beginning to move his hand up and down vigorously.
"Hair down..." Snape breathes.
You reach behind you and pull your hair down from the loose pony tail it is in, a small smile still on your lips. You shake your locks out, sending them sprawling over your back and shoulders. He groans again, his head lulling back against the headboard.
"Are you going to touch yourself?" Snape asks, huskily.
You reach down and unbutton your jeans, pushing them down with your thong. You gently lower the mirror closer to the level of the bed, keeping it still in the air.
You slowly spread your bare legs, running your hands up your thighs, then back down to your knees. You slowly lay down onto your back, legs hanging off the bed, and bring your hand down to your silken core.
"Good girl." Snape murmurs.
You moan out loud at the praise. You shut your eyes and begin to rub your throbbing bundle of nerves until it's sensitive and swollen. You look at the mirror when a deep groan of pleasure escapes Snape's lungs.
Your hips buck on their own accord when you can hear Snape's hand go faster and faster around himself.
"Mmm...let me see..." you moan.
Snape shuts his eyes, brows knitting together, then grabs his wand off the nightstand. He waves it over the mirror and levitates it out in front of his waist. His black boxers are pushed down his thighs and his hand is grasping his thick, curved member, stroking it up and down quickly.
"Fuck..." you sigh.
"You like that, witch?" He teases.
You sit back up on the bed, bringing one leg up and parting yourself more, nodding. Gods, yes, you love his manhood. The girth and perfect length, curved to perfection, decorated with a large, throbbing blue vein. You drag your fingers up and down your wet core, then slowly press one into your opening. Snape's eyes shut when he can hear how wet you are.
You push your finger in and out at a languid pace, eyes on latched onto his erection. A rush of pleasure runs through you.
"Sev..." you sigh.
You throw your head back, sighing at hard this is - you have not had to masterbate in such a long time, Severus and you have always taken care of each other. Until recently, obviously.
"I wish I could be between your legs right now..." Snape sighs.
You swallow, seeing his forehead shine with sweat. He must be exerting himself, too.
"Ah...fuck...Sev..." you cry quietly.
He nods.
"Are you close?" Snape breathes.
You nod, your head dropping back. You insert a second finger now and grab at a breast with one hand, panting heavily. That deep pit of pleasure begins to form in your lower belly, that pleasure so longed for, so needed.
"You're so beautiful..." Snape sighs.
Your eyes roll back and you cum. You cry out Sev, Sev, Sev with each wave that passes through your body. Snape leans up, his hand going faster and out of control, staring at you while you continue to orgasm. He grunts, his hips buck, his lips part with each heavy breath. You slowly remove your soaked fingers, lips parted, catching your breath. Snape's jaw goes lax and he stills, shuddering as his manhood trembles with pleasure.
"Y/N...!" He grunts.
With his brows knitted together and lips slightly shaking, his hips thrust up, and thick ropes of cum spurt from him. He pants erratically and you whine quietly, watching him, wishing you could be with him, touch him, taste him.
Wishing you could love him, physically.
This was good, there is no doubt, but you miss being near Severus, being able to touch him. Snape runs a hand through his hair, then waves his wand, Scourgifying himself clean. He looks at you in a daze, cheeks flushed.
"When was the last time...?" You ask.
He inhales.
"Since...before Albus died." Snape breathes.
You nod.
"Yeah...me too." You reply.
You stand, grabbing the mirror from the air and sitting it down on your nightstand against the lamp.
"I'll be right back... just gonna rinse off in the shower."
Snape hums a response. You quickly dip out of your room, naked and sweaty, and enter the bathroom. You turn the shower on, wait for it to get hot, then slip inside. You quickly wash yourself, then step out, drying.
When you reenter your room, you pull on an old school sweater and shorts, then climb into bed. You look into the mirror, seeing Snape has settled into bed. The blanket rests over his chests and he's on his side, facing the mirror on his nightstand. You smile comfortingly at him.
This made you feel better. You still feel terrible about the things you've done. But, like Snape, you can and will be redeemable. You'll be back at school with him soon. Able to keep the children safe and work with Snape to bring down the Dark Lord.
Snape smiles back, then his lips relax, but they smile again against his will.
"I am relieved you've realized the right path. I was so sick with worry. I thought...you were lost indefinitely."
You nod.
"Me too, Sev. I am sorry."
He shushes you.
"Stop apologizing. What is done is done. We will work towards better. Now, sleep, you silly girl."
You nod, tugging the blanket over you. You mouth I love you to him. Warmth and contentment fill you when he mouths it back.
It seems Snape needs you to sleep more than you need him, because within what seems like seconds, his eyes are shut and quiet, heavy, slow breaths emit from him.
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
"No."
The word rings through your ears. You tense in your seat, hands gripping the wooden armrests of the table inside Malfoy Manor.
"But, My Lord, I killed Mad-Eye and the Minister. Am I not worthy to be back at Hogwarts?"
Voldemort leans back in his seat, red eyes staring at yours. You shield your mind instantly. There's a tug there, on your mind, but you fight it with every ounce of strength you have.
"Potter is still on the run. I have no idea where he is. No one has been able to capture a member of the Order for interrogations on his whereabouts. I need you to available to carry out these important duties when the opportunity arrives. Being of worth has little to do with thissss." He concludes.
You nod to him.
Fuck you, Tom Riddle.
"My Lord, I will be available to you, at all times. I swear it." You promise, trying anyway.
Voldemort regards you. He's treated you differently since you killed Mad Eye. Even more differently since you killed the Minister of Magic. He...respects you. Slightly. He isn't condescending nor rude. This has made several Death Eaters envious of you, especially Lucius and Dolohov. They glare at you during meetings and Dolohov even blocked you from leaving a meeting one day, staring at you warningly. Voldemort stands, shaking his head, almost apologetically.
You can see why he has so many followers. He is insane, but he is a very powerful wizard. And if he makes his other followers feel important, as he's done to you, you understand the will to do his bidding. Even if Voldemort treats his followers like he treats Lucius, they'll continue to follow him out of fear, or envy of power. You completely understand how he has so many people wanting to follow him. How he has so many people willing to kill, and be killed, for him.
"Until we have a lead on Potter's whereabouts, you will remain free of distractions, including Hogwarts. That is final, Y/N." Voldemort commands.
You stand, your chair squealing as you do, storming out. The black cloak around your shoulders billows as you do. You turn into the kitchen of Malfoy Manor, striding inside. Two house elves stop you.
"Miss Reynolds, can we help you?"
You stare down at a house elf you aren't familiar with. Ignoring her, you walk past her, towards the narrow stairwell that leads to the cellar. You slam the door behind you, pulling the string to turn the dim, yellow lights on, and pace down the aisle. You pass the abundant choices of wines and head straight to the liquors. You grab a bottle of whiskey and use your wand to uncork it. You plop down onto the hard floor and bring the bottle to your lips, knocking back a few gulps.
You lean back against the shelves, letting the alcohol rush through you. You reach into your cloak after a moment and pull out your mirror. You wave your wand over it, enlarging it to its normal size, tapping on it.
"Sev?" You whisper.
You tap and tap and speak his name for what seems like hours. You finish one bottle, then another, completely numb and utterly obliterated. This is the feeling you so much adored in your post school life. Why you became addicted to it. You've missed it.
Surely, two hours have passed by now. You're well intoxicated and Snape still hasn't answered his mirror. He's busy, you're sure of it, since he is the Headmaster now. Is he waiting for you to show up? How let down will he look when you tell him you cannot return to Hogwarts with him? Will his heart break? Will he stop loving you?
You bring your hand up and wipe your eyes, sniffling. You just want your mom. She would know just what to say to comfort you. To tell you that everything will be okay and not to worry so much. But, she is dead, thanks to a Death Eater. Thanks to someone just like you.
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
You're shaken awake. It's forceful, hard across your back. You force your eyes open, your vision blurred, wincing at the light coming in from the cellar door.
"Wake up."
You sit up, holding your throbbing head. A hand grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze toward them. It's Hannah. You're a bit shocked by the sight of her, given that she hasn't even looked at you for nearly two months.
"How long have you been down here? You're freezing...drunk too, by the look of those bottles." Hannah grits out.
You stare at her blue eyes, searching them. Her eyes are stern, upset, and filled with emptiness you no doubt put there. You look down at your lap and press your lips together, inhaling through your nose.
"Y/N, has something happened? What is wrong?" Hannah whispers.
You put your hands into your face, beginning to violently sob against your will. Hannah places a hand on your back instantly, beginning to rub it.
"I want mom." You cry, quietly, weakly.
This seems childish, crying for your mother, but you do want her. Hannah sighs, pulling you into her arms, shushing you. At least she isn't ignoring you anymore. Maybe it's because you're crying, but it doesn't matter - she is here.
"I want her, too, sweetheart." Hannah gently replies.
You sob out loud once, then turn into her chest to quiet down. You contain yourself after a minute. Hannah leans back, studying you.
You expect she is waiting for your explanation of why you've decided to drink excessively.
"The Dark Lord won't let me go back to Hogwarts! I can't be with Severus, after everything...after tearing my soul apart for him, the Dark Lord won't let me go..." You whimper.
Hannah eyes you hard, almost warningly, but you do not understand why. So, you keep talking - pathetically, desperately.
"I should have went after we tried to capture Harry Potter in July! Sev told me to ask the Dark Lord...after I killed Mad Eye...Sev said...he would have let me...but I was a fool. I'm so, so stupid..."
Hannah shakes you once.
"Shut. Up." She states.
You lean back, about to be hurt by her words, but now see why she is so intent on keeping you quiet. The door to the cellar is being held open by Narcissa Malfoy, who, no doubt has heard your pathetic crying. She's heard you call Snape by his nickname, alluding to your closeness with him. This isn't good, especially when you are taking the spotlight from her husband. You nod once to Hannah, then stand. You stumble, grabbing a shelf for leverage. Hannah wraps one arm around you.
"Let's go to sleep." Hannah soothes.
You nod. As you climb up the stairs, you stop, staring at Narcissa. She's in a more relaxed dressing gown and her straight hair is down.
"One of the elves told me you had been down here... I will not say a word about any of this." Narcissa states.
You hold her gaze for a long moment, then look down.
"Thank you." Is all you can manage.
She nods once, shutting the door behind her. When you turn into the kitchen, you see Draco Malfoy crouching on the floor beside Elwin, the elf you are familiar with here, at the Manor. Draco wears silk pajamas and his hair is messy. He glances up, his blue eyes tired with dark circles beneath, and a brief wave of surprise washes over him.
"Hello, Draco." You murmur, slurring the words.
You tilt your head when you examine a marble in his hand. He's playing gobstones with Elwin. It's so late. You suppose you and Hannah aren't the only who didn't want to serve the Dark Lord and are losing sleep because if it. Draco was just obeying his parents, who were likely ordered by Voldemort to force their son into serving him.
"Professor." He greets.
Hannah nudges you forward before you can say more - before you can embarass yourself. You both head up the stairs and to the housing wing. You glance to Hannah, who's arm is firmly around your waist, guiding you down the hall. You begin to pass her room, but she grasps your arm, halting you.
"My room." Hannah murmurs.
She opens the door for you. You walk in, holding the wall, the room spinning beneath your feat. But, being drunk isn't anything you're not familiar with. You walk to the bed and collapse onto it, face first.
"No, get up. Shower." Hannah commands.
You don't move. You don't want to shower. You want to pass the fuck out.
"Y/N, you need to get up-"
You grasp at the duvet on her bed, screaming into the mattress.
"Leave me alone!" You growl.
Hannah sighs, her lips turning downward. She rummages through her dresser, finding a large, cotton shirt she sleeps in occasionally. She throws it at you and it lands on top of your head. You sit up, drunkenly, looking at it boredly. Reluctantly, you stand, but begin to fall. Hannah groans, grabbing your shoulders, keeping you on your feet. Her brows raise and her eyes become serious.
"This cannot happen again. Understand? I doubt you even remember this in the morning." Hannah says, voice laced in disappointment.
You laugh, quietly, stupidly, regarding her angry face, or what she believes to be angry. Hannah shoots you an unamused look, which make you laugh out loud.
"You looked like mom, just now." You giggle.
Hannah's eyes soften as you drop your tunic to the floor. She glances away from you as you change. You pull the shirt on, which falls to the top of your thighs.
"There. Happy?" You murmur.
Hannah doesn't reply, she simply shoves you down into the bed.
"Sleep." She commands.
You sit up, wanting the two way mirror. You point at your cloak. Hannah sighs, kneeling, rummaging through the pockets. She finds the heavy mirror, engorges it back to its normal size, and hands it to you. You tap on it again.
"Hannah, you won't believe what Sev and I did over the mirror last night." You say, inebriated.
Hannah cocks her head, confused. You grin, your cheeks red with the buzz going through your body.
"We had like...mirror sex. We-"
Hannah puts her hands over her ears, grimacing.
"Oh - Y/N - ew - why - Sleep!" Hannah chokes.
You laugh. She snatches the mirror from you, sitting it down.
"No, sit it up, you meanie. Sev may check it."
Hannah rolls her eyes, but sits it up against the lamp on the nightstand.
"You'll be too passed out to talk to him, anyways." She comments.
She climbs into bed, sighing tiredly. She turns on her side, facing you.
"No more alcohol, Y/N. I'm serious." Hannah states.
You wave your have back and forth.
"Okay, Hannah, jeez." You reply.
She tugs the blankets over you, eyeing your hard, then she shuts your eyes.
"That is all we need - for you to become an alcoholic again, during this utterly fucked up war." Hannah comments.
You roll your eyes. If only Hannah knew that old habits die hard.
You don't want to drink. But, what else will help you through this? Snape isn't here. This is the first time Hannah has spoken to you in several weeks. You can't reach out to Order associates for help. You're a fucking murderer- you've killed human beings, two of which being Alastor Moody and the former Minister of Magic. You can scarcely be blamed for succumbing to it. You do hate the thought of becoming addicted to liquor again... only to have to withdraw from it all over again.
Your mother worked on you day and night for an entire week whilst you withdrew from alcohol. It was after your broom accident - you were in pain and in need of alcohol, but your mother refused to give into you. It was easily the hardest, worst, most miserable week of your entire life. You called your mother terrible names. Told her she was shit and that she was trying to kill you. You even wished her dead. She ignored your remarks and simply loved you, even though you were far from deserving it.
Then, you woke up. Came to your senses seven days later, practically brand new. The craving for alcohol ceased and you cried in your mothers arms for hours. Once you had finally stopped, she pulled out the application for Potion's Master at Ilvermorny.
She was too good for this world.
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
Hannah shakes you awake again. You jolt up, in a sweat, instantly feeling the throbbing in your head.
"The Dark Lord requires you. Now." She states.
You nod, hurrying out of bed, changing into your clothes and shoes from yesterday. You rub your hands through your hair and hurry towards the door.
"Thanks, Hannah." You breathe.
You don't give her the time to respond - you hurry downstairs. It's early morning, perhaps seven. What could the Dark Lord want?
When you enter the grand hall, the Dark Lord stands. Lucius and Yaxley are sitting beside him.
"Y/N! Come." He beckons.
You keep your head low.
"How may I assist you, My Lord?" You ask, graciously.
He gestures for you to sit, beside Yaxley, and you do.
"You are to go with Yaxley to the Ministry and keep an eye on Dolores Umbridge."
You tilt your head.
"I do not understand, My Lord. Are we to protect her?" You wonder.
Voldemort sneers.
"Not necessarily, no. Just...do not let her be near any undesirables. I have reason to believe Potter is...after something that belongs to me."
A Horcrux! Holy fuck, this is it, a Horcrux! It must be! You keep your excited thoughts off your features. How is Umbridge involved? You don't ask - you're sure you'll find out.
"I understand, My Lord. Today?"
He nods once.
"Yes. Until further notice." He commands.
You stand, bowing.
"Of course. I'll go at once."
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
Being back in the presence of Dolores Umbridge is less exciting than you thought it'd be. You sit in trials with the woman whilst she interrogates wizards and witches on their blood status. Half she sends home, but the other unlucky half ends up with their wands snapped and are given a holiday in Azkaban. She's even more heinous and it's because of that locket around her neck. It's an exact replica of what Potter brought to you after Dumbledore died. This one is the real one, though. Even if you could manage to get Umbridge alone, which is highly unlikely with Yaxley here, you can't just take the necklace. Voldemort would know it's missing from her. You'd be a prime suspect.
The Ministry is...forsaken. Stone muggles - real human people who have been turned to stone - decorate the entrance of the Ministry. Harry Potter Undesirable No.1 posters decorate the walls of each hallway and elevator. People use the word mudblood like they're talking about the weather. This isn't fun. It's stressful. So, you drink.
Surely, lunch must be soon - you need it to be. The alcohol in your flask is running low and you need to refill it soon. You eye the center of attention. A middle aged, dark haired woman sits in the chair now - Mary Catermole. What a weird last name. She looks scared. Innocent. Poor woman. You have no say. You're here as "extra protection" - at least, that is what Yaxley has made Umbridge believe.
You begin to doze off during the trial - this hangover is one bitch and your current buzz of alcohol just isn't strong enough. Your eyes snap open when you hear Umbridge raise her voice. You sit up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. New people are in here now - two men, a woman, staring at Umbridge. What the hell?
"I'm sorry, Professor, I must not tell lies."
Is this the voice of Harry fucking Potter? The first day you're here, you get this lucky? Here goes nothing! You stand as Albert Runcorn (Harry?) fires a spell at Umbridge. You assume the other man is Ron Weasley - he knocks Yaxley out now. An unknown woman - Hermione Granger? - rushes to umbridge. You run down the benches where the Wizengamot would normally be, looking around, seeing the dementors beginning to soar down from the ceiling. Now you're on a time crunch. Yaxley and Umbridge are knocked out, however. You're loyalties are still safely hidden.
You reach Umbridge before Hermione Granger can, aiming your wand down at her. They're changing back into theirselves - Hermione and Harry, at least are. They are, in fact, the three Gryffindors you just taught last school term.
"Professor...?" Hermione whispers.
The dementors are getting closer. You quickly pull the necklace over Dolores's head, handing it to her as you jump down. Potter, Weasley, and Granger all stare at you, in almost awe. They seen you here, just moments ago, believing you were bad, siding with Umbridge, with Yaxley. Were they shocked? Disgusted? To see you here? They should be. If only they knew you were hiding a Dark Make up your sleeve in this very moment. What would they think? You're students. Children you've taught for three years. Gods, a feeling of sickness runs through you.
"Run! All of you!" You command.
They don't hesitate - both Cattermole's and Harry and Hermione begin to book it towards the elevators. You follow them, keeping up, no pain in your hip. You actually outrun the dementors.
Thank you for healing me, Voldemort!
Okay, maybe not out run - the dementors are catching up with you quick and when you turn over your shoulder, you see Yaxley running towards you. Fuck!
"Harry! Harry, the fake! The fake necklace!" You beg.
You all slide into the elevator, waiting for it to shut, but the dementors are close. You have no time to think as the soul sucking monsters get close to you. Do you stay here and go with Potter, Weasley, and Granger? Or stay in the Dark Lord's good graces? Your body makes the choice for you.
You step out of the elevator and pull the door shut by force. Hermione slips the fake locket through the metal door. You grab it, but then feel a dementor on your back, sucking the soul from you - whatever soul is left.
"Professor Reynolds, come with us! To Grimmauld!" Potter says, pleadingly.
So, they are there, likely with Sirius Black.
"I can't. Run to the Floo's. Don't stop." You insist.
The elevator slings away, down its hallway, and vaguely you hear Granger call out for you. You turn and raise your wand, thinking of Severus, beginning for a memory to produce any sort of patronus to scare these dementors off.
Your mind, on its own accord, goes to the moment during your second year teaching at Hogwarts - during Harry Potter's fifth year. Umbridge was there, causing trouble. You were tasked with guarding the prophecy with Arthur one night before Christmas. You were attacked by Nagini and rendered unable to walk due to a nasty bite in your bad hip.
It was Severus who eventually helped you walk again. Despite you two being separated during that time, despite the lies and the arguments, he helped you finally walk again by sweetly suggesting you stand on his feet. You giggled and laughed and, gods, what a different time that was. He held you and smiled small and smelt so good and let you stand on his feet whilst he walked with you.
This is what causes blue light to burst from the end of your wand. It's bright and blinding - but you wince through it, seeing the dementors fly back, fleeing. When the light dims, a simple, pretty, silvery creature is left in front of you. It isn't a doe, like you hoped, but a small, thin Thestral. You have little time to admire it - Yaxley runs through it with anguish on his face.
"Stupefy!" You cast.
Yaxley gets hit square in the face and falls to his back.
"Ouch." You murmur, seeing him hit the floor hard.
You walk to him, kneeling, beginning to obliviate him. A small grin forms on your face as you stride to Umbridge. You slip the fake locket on her neck, then sigh, obliviating her as well. How are you to explain this?
𓆙▕⃝⃤ 𓆙
You lie beautifully to the Dark Lord about the attack. Stated people unknown to you broke into the Ministry, disguised with Polyjuice, and attempted to take Umbridge's life. The lie matched well enough - you stated Yaxley and Umbridge both were stunned, knocked out, and you dueled with them until they decided to flee.
Voldemort gets angry when you state you tended to Yaxley and Umbridge instead of going after the thieves. He believes it was Potter and co - he is right - but you assure him of everything but Potter. You deny it was Potter, nearly laugh. Deny he had anything to do with it.
You come close to pissing yourself as lie after lie flies from your lips. How does Severus do this? You would almost prefer death over lying to the Dark Lord, wondering when he'll catch you, wondering when he'll kill you - or worst, Hannah.
Voldemort let's you retire for the evening - you stop by the cellar for a bottle of liquor, not thinking twice about the consequences this will bring. You want to be numb. You want to feel nothing. You want to disappear. And alcohol will help you feel just those things.
You settle into your bedroom and tap on the two way mirror m for the next hour. Severus doesn't respond to it. You drink whilst thinking of your next move, if there even is one.
You're to go back to the Ministry tomorrow and continue to watch Umbridge, and subsequently, the fake Horcrux around her neck. How long will you be tasked with this? Days? Weeks? Months?
How long until Potter destroys the necklace and Voldemort traces the lie back to you? How long before the Dark Lord tortures the information out of you? How long before Voldemort finds out you're a traitor and kills you for it?
If Voldemort doesn't find anything out, how long will it be until you're past redemption? How long will it be until you fully embrace the Death Eater lifestyle and go behind a point of no return? How long?
More importantly, how long will it be until you can see Severus Snape again?
A/N: I proof read this time lololol don't point out any typos to me if and when you find them. Let me know what you think bbys 🖤