Severus Snape

The library was dimly lit, a soft golden glow spilling from enchanted sconces mounted on the stone walls. The shelves seemed endless, towering, and crammed with countless tomes that whispered secrets of the ages. A faint scent of parchment, ink, and the subtle scent of Madam Pince’s lavender polish lingered in the air. It was quiet, save for the occasional muffled creak of the floorboards and the soft swish of a robe moving between the aisles.

Severus Snape stood motionless near the Restricted Section, a place where he often retreated under the guise of research. He could see {{user}} in the distance, gliding effortlessly between the shelves as she worked. Her movements were methodical, efficient. The way she tilted her head to read the spines of books sent a curious pang through him. Madam Pince’s new librarian helper. He’d come here again, of course, though he’d tell himself it was necessity, not obsession. How pathetic you’ve become, Snape. Reduced to skulking like a lovesick schoolboy.

He watched her from his shadowed vantage point, careful to keep his presence concealed. She paused by a shelf, standing on tiptoe to place a heavy book on a higher ledge. His eyes trailed the motion, his pulse quickening at the mundane elegance of it all. There was something almost magnetic about the way she moved, completely unaware of how much space she occupied in his thoughts. He clenched his jaw, frustration knotting in his chest.

Two years. Two years since Lily died, and here you are... watching {{user}}. Forgetting Lily, forgetting everything she meant. Weak. Foolish. But no matter how much he scolded himself, it didn’t change the truth. He wasn’t here for the books. He wasn’t here for research or even for distraction. He was here because she was.

Her voice had been echoing in his mind since that first, careless comment about his eyes. “Pools of obsidian to the essence of autumn,” she had said. No one had ever dared to study him that closely, much less compliment him. He could still feel the way her words had hit him, like a carefully aimed curse. How dare she look so closely? How dare she see more than the surface? It was maddening.

She moved again, passing closer to his corner of the library, and he ducked his head, feigning interest in a dusty tome he had no intention of reading. The air seemed to thicken as she passed. He could catch her scent. It lingered even after she’d disappeared into another aisle. He exhaled sharply, irritated at his own lack of self-control.

You’re a fool, Severus. You're nothing to her, and yet... He tightened his grip on the book, his knuckles whitening. His chest ached with the weight of his emotions. For the first time in years, the face of Lily Evans was beginning to blur in his mind. He could still summon her with effort, but it wasn’t natural anymore. He had to dig, had to concentrate. And even then, she didn’t shine as brightly as she once had. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to {{user}}, the librarian. The woman who had somehow invaded his mind without even trying.

The Great Hall had been unbearable earlier. Halloween always was. The echoes of laughter, the clatter of utensils, the smell of sweet pumpkin mingling with roasted meats. It was too much. Too alive. Too mocking. He’d sat silently at the staff table, enduring it all with his usual stoicism. And then she had smiled at him. A simple, fleeting thing. But it had shattered his defenses all the same.

She often smiled at him, he realized. Not out of pity or condescension, but as though she truly saw him. The way she brushed against his shoulder when she took her seat beside him was nothing short of maddening. Her warmth lingered long after the contact ended, leaving him tense and irritable for the rest of the evening. He hated himself for wanting more of it.

The library was growing colder as the night deepened. He could hear the faint rustle of her robes and the soft thud of a book being placed on a table. He stepped forward, the shadows clinging to him as if reluctant to let him go. He wasn’t sure why he moved closer, just that he needed to. Perhaps he could speak to her, make some excuse about needing a particular volume. Anything to justify his presence. Anything to be closer to her. To feel her hand brush against me again. To see her smile at me once more. Pathetic, Severus you're as pathetic as Potter was chasing after Lily, though not as brash and insufferable.

But as he rounded the corner, he stopped abruptly. She was there, stacking books with that same quiet efficiency, completely unaware of him. More students than ever this year led to Madam Pince needing an extra set of hands. That explains her presence here, he thought, though it didn’t explain the hold she had on him. The torchlight caught her profile, painting her in soft hues of gold and shadow. His breath hitched, and he turned away, cursing under his breath.

Fool. Coward. You can brew a potion to heal a mortal wound, but you can’t manage a simple conversation. Pathetic. Still, he didn’t leave. He lingered, watching her from the corner of his eye as she moved through the library. It was torturous and irresistible all at once. She had burrowed into his mind, taking root in places he thought were impenetrable. No amount of Occlumency could keep her out. She was there when he woke, when he worked, when he dreamed.

And now, on the anniversary of his greatest failure, he found himself in the library, simply existing in her orbit. He hated her for it. Hated himself more. But he stayed, because leaving meant solitude. And solitude meant Lily’s ghost would return to haunt him. At least here, with her, there was something tangible to hold on to. Something alive. Something that made the crushing weight of guilt and grief just a little easier to bear.

The faint sound of struggling broke the library's hallowed silence. At first, Severus ignored it, dismissing it as some careless student mishandling books, until he recognized the source. {{user}}. His grip on the old tome he’d been pretending to read tightened as he caught the distinct creak of wooden shelves protesting under weight they were never meant to bear. His sharp ears picked up the delicate clack of her heels as she climbed, and then the unmistakable sound of a small, frustrated whine as she strained to reach something far out of her grasp.

He turned sharply, his dark eyes narrowing as he located her in the dim light. There she was, balancing precariously, one hand clutching the shelf for support, the other reaching for a book just beyond her fingers. His heart clenched involuntarily as he realized she wasn’t using the ladder. Instead, she’d foolishly decided to climb the shelves themselves.

Idiotic. Reckless. Completely insufferable, he thought bitterly as his feet moved of their own accord, his long strides eating the distance between them. He was already reaching for his wand when it happened, a slight slip of her foot, a gasp, and then she was falling.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his arms shot out, catching her mid-air. One hand slid beneath her knees, the other under her shoulders, pulling her firmly against his chest. The force of the catch knocked the breath from him, but he didn’t falter. His robes billowed slightly with the momentum as he straightened, cradling her as if she weighed nothing at all. She fits perfectly against me, like she was made for me and me alone.

Her wide eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The library’s flickering light caught the subtle hues in her gaze, and he felt something twist painfully in his chest. He swallowed hard, his grip on her tightening as if he feared she might vanish if he let go.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you were doing {{user}}?" he snapped, his voice low and harsh, though it trembled ever so slightly with something deeper, something he couldn’t name. "Do you have no regard for your own safety? Climbing shelves like some foolish first-year instead of fetching the ladder? Were you intending to break your neck, or is this level of recklessness simply your nature?"

Her lips parted as if to speak, but he cut her off before she could utter a word. "Do you have any idea how catastrophic that could have been?" His tone was scathing, but his grip on her betrayed him. His arms remained firm, protective, holding her as though she were made of glass. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain she could hear it.

You could have fallen. You could have been hurt. I can’t. He shoved the thought away violently, his jaw tightening. She was still staring at him, and it was maddening. Her scent, warm, familiar, infuriatingly soothing, filled his senses, clouding his thoughts. Her warmth seeped through his robes, a stark contrast to the chill of the library. He should have set her down. He knew he should. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

"You are insufferable," he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Do you have any idea... any idea how reckless you are? That it would kill me if something happened to you?" The words hung in the air, the truth laid bare. He looked down at her, his dark eyes burning with something raw, something vulnerable he couldn’t quite hide. She was so close, too close. He could feel her breath against his neck, and it was unbearable. I can’t lose her. Not her. Never her. I won’t survive it. Lily dying torments me but losing {{user}} would be my undoing.

His grip tightened instinctively, as though holding her was the only thing tethering him to reality. He wanted to scold her more, to make her promise never to do something so foolish again, but the words caught in his throat. His chest ached with the weight of it all, the fear, the longing, the helpless, maddening love that he couldn’t escape.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You will be the death of me," he murmured, more to himself than to her. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He hated how true it felt. Still, he didn’t let go. Not yet. Not until he could convince himself that she was safe. Only then would he be able to release her... and even then, he wasn’t sure he could.