GOLDEN | Severus Snape Fanfic

by evanescentofvalen

Summary:

She is beautiful, extraordinary, soft, and gentle - everything he is not, a living contrast to his own darkness, his cold restraint, his rough edges and carefully sharpened cruelty, as if the world itself had carved them from opposite elements and then, with quiet cruelty, set them on the same path.

He told himself not to linger, not to listen, not to remain where her light touched him, and yet every time he failed, something primal, something instinctive and dangerously alive stirred within his chest, urging him to step closer, to stay, to surrender to the impossible comfort of her nearness.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Severus leaned on his chair as he graded all the parchments laid out in front of him. He let out a sigh before reading once again. He could not help but frown—these children are sixteen years old, for Merlin's sake, but they write an essay like goddamn six-year-olds.

He had been sixteen once, but his essays were precise, meticulous, and organized. Each word, each syllable, was concise, on point, always flawless. Reading these essays gave him a headache.

There were tolerable ones—very few that he could consider great, but not perfect.

Hours passed, and before he knew it, he was done.

Just before he thought he could relax, a soft knock came from behind the door of his office.

Oh, wonderful.

"Come in."

The door slowly opened, revealing an old man whom he hadn't seen for a straight two months because of whatever, heaven knows, he had been doing.

"Albus," he said, acknowledging the old man. He gestured for him to sit, and so Dumbledore did.

"I'm sure you're curious why I've been away for quite some time."

Two months is surely quite some time.

"No."

The old man laughed under his breath. He leaned comfortably in his chair as Severus watched him carefully, observing his actions, trying to read his unpredictable mind.

This man surely knew how to surprise and keep everyone on edge. Severus had been, for years, trying to figure out whatever ran through that thick head of his, but somehow, he knew he couldn't.

Well, not completely, of course.
"I've been... handling some affairs lately," Albus started, his eyes shining through his lenses, "and I want you to oversee something."

Something?

"What games are you playing, Albus?" Severus' tone was sharp, a hint of warning.

"I'm no player, Severus. Just a spectator," he mused, and Severus snorted.

He knew this act so well—the pattern, the words, the humor. This happened when the old man asked for a favor he could not turn down. A favor he knew he couldn't ignore.

Because who was he kidding? That's Albus Dumbledore, and he promised to do anything for him.

Even if it cost him everything.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, his voice cold, bored, and somehow tired.

"Oh, would you look at that—Christmas is almost here!"

What the fuck.

"Albus, what—"

"Tomorrow, a new student will arrive. I need you to welcome them," Albus exclaimed. Severus barely processed what he had just said when the old man stood up.

"Tomorrow?"

Albus looked at him with a smile on his face.
"Yes, tomorrow. Early, 7 in the morning!" He beamed, and without another word, he walked straight to the door, leaving the dumbfounded Severus in his office.

Shit.

Chapter 2: Prologue

Summary:

The special students that Albus specifically told Severus to escort has finally came

 

JAKKALAKSKSSJDIENDINCKZMEKDE

December 20, 1987

Severus woke as early as five.

Well—truthfully, he had not slept properly at all. Albus had dropped the bomb at one in the morning, and Severus had not been able to find the right side of the bed since.

Only a few students remained at Hogwarts during this time of the month, as most had gone home to celebrate the holiday with their families. The castle was far quieter, something Severus found himself appreciating more than he cared to admit.

Then it struck him.

He had to escort a student.

Apparently, Severus had no idea who this student was. Albus, who had left early without providing any details about their arrival, had sent a note thirty minutes later—stating that the student would be at the front gate exactly at seven a.m.

Severus groaned in annoyance. He was in no mood to entertain anyone at the moment, but he had no choice but to comply with the Headmaster's order.

When the clock ticked to six forty-five, he finally stood, walking through the silent corridors of the castle. He inhaled deeply, allowing the cold morning air and the stillness to settle his restless mind.

Exactly at seven, he arrived at the front gate.

Severus frowned when he saw no one. He stood there, his back to the gate, arms folded across his chest. He waited in silence, motionless, like a phantom of the night slipping into the pale rays of morning.

"Hello, are you Professor Snape?"

The gentle voice startled him. For a split second his body went rigid, his eyes widening as he turned to find a young girl standing behind the gate. She smiled sweetly when their eyes met.

"Good morning!" she beamed, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

Severus nearly rolled his eyes.

"Greetings, Professor," another voice spoke.

Behind the girl stood a tall young man. Despite his height, Severus had not noticed him at all—until he spoke.

Severus opened the gate for them. Rubeus Hagrid usually handled the gates of Hogwarts, but under specific orders from Albus, Severus had taken the keys from him for the moment.

The pair entered with bright smiles on their faces. Severus watched them as their eyes wandered over the towering walls and snow-dusted grounds. The girl then turned back to him.

"Priyatna poznakomit'sya (nice to meet you in Russian), Professor! I am Aria Nexus, an exchange student from Koldovstoretz," she introduced politely. Her transition between accents was so smooth it quietly impressed Severus, though he would never admit it aloud.

"Teší ma — (nice to meet you in Slovak), Professor. I am Xantheus Nexus, an exchange student from Durmstrang," the boy added with the same effortless shift in tone.

"I am Professor Snape," he replied.

The pair exchanged a glance before smiling at him.

"Follow me."

And they did.

Severus led the way. Xantheus carried their suitcase while Aria observed everything with wide-eyed awe, her steps light despite the long journey.

"Ah! You two are finally here!" Minerva exclaimed when she saw them approaching with Severus.

"Greetings, Professor," the pair said in unison.
Minerva smiled warmly.

"Greetings. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House."

They introduced themselves once again, and this time Minerva's amazement was not masked at all. She marveled at their seamless shifts in accent and tone.

"I must apologize, Mr. and Ms. Nexus—I have urgent matters to attend to. Once again, welcome to Hogwarts" She offered them a brief nod and swiftly departed in the opposite direction.

Severus huffed quietly as the old witch disappeared, leaving him alone with the pair.
Xantheus turned to him.

"I apologize, Professor, but may we request a little rest? Our travel was quite... a hassle."

"All right. Come," Severus replied curtly.

Xantheus breathed in visible relief.

Severus had no idea where he ought to take them, so he decided on his classroom—at least until Albus appeared or sent another order.

"This is my classroom," he said. He had briefly considered his office but decided it would be better for them to remain here.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Xantheus said.

Severus watched as the boy guided the girl—whom he assumed was his sister—to a seat. Xantheus then placed a gentle hand against her forehead, checking her temperature with practiced care.

Severus sat quietly, observing them.
Xantheus retrieved a small vial from his pocket, and Severus frowned in curiosity.

The boy handed it to the girl, urging her to drink. She did, and only then did Xantheus sit beside her, his shoulders relaxing, his expression finally calm.

"Headmaster Dumbledore told us you would show us around, Professor. We apologize for taking your time," Xantheus said, his smile soft but sincere.

"We could have waited until the next term," Aria added, her voice gentle, "but Headmaster Dumbledore said it was all right to start early."

Severus swore he had never heard such an angelic voice before.

He would never admit that.

"It is not your fault," he said slowly. "The old wizard has his own... ways of making others' lives difficult."

It was not meant as a joke—simply an honest observation. Yet Xantheus and Aria chuckled. Despite the gloomy aura of his classroom, their bright expressions brought forth something Severus could not quite name.

"You are funny, Professor," Aria said, clearly amused.

Their eyes met.

He found himself studying her features: soft skin, small dimples, round eyes—and her hair is wavy silver-white.

"Professor, if you do not mind us asking—do you teach Potions?" Xantheus asked upon observing the room, his tone respectful and gentle, so unlike most boys Severus encountered who usually give him dirty or judgemental looks.

Odd.

"Yes. I am the Potion Master of Hogwarts."
Their faces lit up immediately.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" Aria said, almost bouncing with excitement.

"It truly is," Xantheus agreed with a soft chuckle.

For someone who studied at Durmstrung, he sure doesn't act like one. Severus had once visited that school for some personal reasons, and Merlin help him because being in that school with full of self-centered students is one of the most excruciating experience he had.

"I presume," Severus said, watching them carefully, "that Albus is keen to have you here for some... unexplainable reason."

Aria quickly spoke, eager to clarify.

"I met Professor Dumbledore two months ago," she said with a smile. "We were studying at different schools, so he visited us separately. My brother and I were not regular students—we stayed at different schools for two years to learn."

"Durmstrang specializes in Dark Arts and Martial Magic," Xantheus added. "That is why I studied there. Aria went to Koldovstoretz for their complex spellwork, aerial dueling, and elemental magic."

"We did not study in different schools merely to expand our knowledge," Aria said excitedly, "but to understand how each culture approaches magic. So when Headmaster Dumbledore found out about us, he happily told us to join Hogwarts."

Their enthusiasm stirred something unfamiliar in Severus. Their hunger for knowledge—so pure, so hopeful—reminded him of himself as a child.

Yet their reasons were different.

Severus had craved knowledge because it was the only shield he had, the only thing he was good at.

These two learned because the world had opened itself to them.

"And you came to Hogwarts for what, exactly?" Severus asked. "After such training and learning, surely you already possess what Hogwarts offers."

They both shook their heads.

"Each school has different priorities," Xantheus said. "Though many share common courses, not all excel in them."

Aria nodded. "And unlike the schools we've been, Hogwarts offers the broadest magical education of all."

A loud knock echoed through the room.

They all turned.

Then the door opened.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

Chapter 3: Gaze and Thoughts

Summary:

I MIGHT BE BUSY FOR A WHILE BCS COLLEGE IS NO JOKE JSOWOQKSKSKSKS

Aria could hardly believe she was finally here.

She could not remember how long she had been dreaming of standing inside this very castle.

Her family used to live in Dublin, so their father — who had once attended Hogwarts — filled her nights with wonderful stories of his days as a student. She had dreamed of coming here too.

Hogwarts, for some reason, even though she had never set foot within it before, had already become her second home. She had always felt like she belonged here, right within these ancient walls.

When she was six and her brother was eight, their family moved away. They stayed in France until Beauxbatons Academy formally invited them to enroll at the ages of nine and eleven. Though hesitant, their father assured her that Beauxbatons was just as magnificent as Hogwarts.

They studied there for four years. Their advanced and accelerated learning did not go unnoticed by their father, who eagerly taught them even more — things Beauxbatons could not offer.

Her brother, Xantheus, always wanted to learn more, so she stayed with him constantly, reading, studying, and occupying every quiet corner they could find, isolating themselves with books.

Eventually, Xantheus asked their father if he would allow them to travel to another school to expand their education further.

Though anxious and worried, with their mother's reassurance and encouragement, their father agreed and supported them.

"How are you?" Xantheus' voice broke the silence.

They were standing inside Dumbledore's office. Xantheus grew slightly nervous upon entering when he noticed the many portraits of former headmasters watching them closely.

"I'm quite well, brother. How about you?" Aria teased.

She was remarkably calm, knowing these portraits were great witches and wizards who had once served Hogwarts. Though she disliked prying eyes and attention, she knew she would be fine. Her brother, on the other hand, was visibly unsettled.

It almost made her chuckle.

"Are you two ready?" Dumbledore asked, his tone sounding as if he were preparing them for battle.

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"This is the Sorting Hat," the old wizard said, lifting the weathered hat with its face-like creases. "You will be sorted according to what the hat decides. We have Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin."

"Which of you would like to go first?"

"I will," Aria said softly, her excitement barely concealed.

Dumbledore chuckled at her enthusiasm.

She sat on the stool, and he gently placed the hat upon her head.

"Ah... a wonderful mind... such ambition you have, hmm," the hat murmured. "Too organized, too precise... you crave wisdom above all else... oh yes! Cunning indeed..."

Behind Dumbledore, Severus Snape stood utterly still, absorbing every word that described the girl.

"Well, aren't you a blossom?" the hat continued. "Creative, yet unwavering of heart... so much determination... but kind. You will do whatever it takes to achieve your goals, yet you would never bring harm to others... ah yes..."

The silence stretched. Too long.

Aria's palms began to sweat.

Why is it taking so much time?

"Your soul... you possess a strong heart... HUFFLEPUFF!"

Aria exhaled, her shoulders sinking in relief.
Dumbledore removed the hat and placed it on her brother's head.

"Ah... aren't you a little wicked? Brave, charming... but your mind is strong... your soul longs for peace, hmm..."

That dreadful silence again.

"Ravenclaw, yes, you would fit in just ri— no? Oh, I see..." the hat chuckled. "Determined, eh? Very well. HUFFLEPUFF!"

Xantheus sighed as he lifted his head and found Aria grinning at him.

He would never leave her side.

He would always be there.

"Professor Sprout, your Head of House, is currently away on personal matters. Professor Snape will guide you for now," Dumbledore explained.

Severus scoffed. "I did not agree to that."

"But what choice do you have, Severus?"

Aria and Xantheus exchanged glances before awkwardly coughing.

"It's alright, Professor," Aria said gently. "It is holiday. We shouldn't trouble ourselves too much. We can continue tomorrow, perhaps explore a little on our own today."

"Right," Xantheus added, his eyes meeting Severus' with understanding. "Everyone should probably rest."

Their arrival had been rushed and sudden. For Merlin's sake, this was supposed to be the holiday — weeks meant for rest and renewal before the students returned.

They understood.

"We are not in a hurry," Aria said. "We are very grateful for your hospitality, Headmaster, Professor."

"Very well," Dumbledore smiled. "You must be hungry. Let us go to the Great Hall, shall we?"

As they walked, Aria hummed softly.
So this is what Hogwarts feels like during the holidays.

Inside the Great Hall, only a few students sat at their respective house tables, enjoying the quiet morning.

They were led to the Hufflepuff table, where at least five students were seated. The siblings thanked them and took their places, filling their plates with graceful, careful movements. Beauxbatons had drilled etiquette into them, and they carried it with them naturally.

At the High Table, Severus sat beside Hagrid, Dumbledore, and Flitwick.

He did not eat.

His gaze remained fixed on the Hufflepuff table.

He noticed their posture, their manners, the respect in every word they exchanged. The way Xantheus walked just slightly behind Aria, protective yet unobtrusive. The way Aria constantly sought his input, valuing his perspective even in the smallest matters.
They were in perfect sync.

Severus, by nature, studied students the way he studied potions: patiently, critically, memorizing every detail.

And now, Aria, though appearing immersed in her meal, was quietly studying him in return. Her eyes flicked toward the High Table whenever she believed no one noticed.

She observed his posture, his stillness, the calculating way his eyes moved. She catalogued him the same way she catalogued lessons, already curious about the mind behind the title of Potion Master.

It did not escape him.

Their lives, in contrast to his own, must have been... gentle.

Not that he was bitter — merely intrigued.

He saw potential. Great potential. It was written plainly in their eyes, their voices, their composure. He found himself wanting to know more.

He could hardly believe he already wished to compete with Professor Sprout for their instruction.

He wanted to draw out everything they could become. He wanted to give them knowledge no textbook could offer. He wanted to shape them into something formidable.

Such minds should never be wasted.

"Ms. Nexus has a very keen interest in Potions," Dumbledore said brightly.
Severus turned at once.

"She is the top student of Koldovstoretz," Dumbledore continued. "While her brother excels in offensive magic, Ms. Nexus is remarkably gifted in defensive work."

Severus nodded, listening closely.

"I once witnessed her duel during a practical exam," Dumbledore said. "She fought with grace and perfect stillness — all while flying mid-air."

Aerial dueling, Severus recalled.

"I have heard of it, quite impressive, she must've practiced riding a broom all day," he stated with sarcasm.

"Koldovstoretz students fly with entire trees, Severus. Not brooms."

Severus stiffened.

"A... tree?"

"Quite extraordinary." Dumbledore was laughing.

Hmm.

"She was thrilled when I told her we had an exceptional Potion Master here who could teach her everything she wished to learn."
Severus scowled faintly, though something stirred beneath it.

"How charming," he muttered. "And Mr. Nexus?"

"He favors Dark Arts and Ancient Runes, but he is equally eager to learn Defense and Potions. I believe," Dumbledore paused meaningfully, "you are precisely the one to guide them."

Perfect.

Severus would take his time. He would test them. And if they proved worthy...

"I shall count on you with this, Severus."

Chapter 4: Burden and Books

Aria lay down on her bed.

With the uneven number of students in their year, she had been given her very own dormitory—separate and alone. Much to her brother's dismay, he, on the other hand, had to share his with two other students.

She eventually sat up, pulled out her suitcase, and began organizing her belongings with careful hands, placing each item where it belonged.

It was already afternoon when they had first arrived at their common room. Earlier, they had walked around a portion of the castle together with Professor Snape.

Aria was surprised that he had agreed to accompany them at all, even though he looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. Still, she appreciated the effort.

From what they had heard from Dumbledore, Professor Snape was strict, cold, quiet, and possessed a very sharp tongue. She had not been frightened when Dumbledore told them this, after all, the teachers at Koldovstoretz were far scarier.

And it was true.

The professors of Koldovstoretz were far worse than Snape, and she was certain of that.

Yet, Aria had never been in trouble at her previous school. With her kindness and respectful behavior, the teachers had always been rather lenient toward her.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Potion Master.

He was mysterious to her, the way he spoke, the way he observed everything, the way he responded, the way he walked, the way he carried himself. Everything about him was filled with quiet enigma. She was intrigued, curious, and undeniably fascinated.

She could tell he was a very wise man, and she knew she would learn so much from him.

'Is he married?'

Aria shook her head sharply, startled by the sudden question that had appeared in her mind.

What was she thinking?

Aria had never allowed herself the luxury of being in love or carefree. At such a young age, she valued knowledge more than anything else. Hence, she spent most of her time reading and seeking her brother's insight on nearly everything.

She believed love was nothing but a distraction, a shimmering fantasy that could easily ruin someone.

A friend of hers from Koldovstoretz, Sophia, had once told her to date a boy in their year. Aria had refused immediately.

Sophia had asked how she could be so cold, especially when her parents were the very definition of storybook romance.

But Aria was not cold.

She simply knew the right time would come. For now, her focus was entirely on shaping her mind and strengthening her magic. She wanted to be so much more than she already was.

And the only way to achieve that was by absorbing lessons and devouring textbooks.
Once she had finished arranging her things, she left her dormitory and found her brother sitting by the fireplace in their common room, the soft glow of the flames reflecting in his eyes.

"Theus," she called.

"Hello, sweet girl," he replied with a smile.

"Let's go to the library," she said, earning a look from him.

"You should rest, sweet girl. We've had a long journey. You can't get yourself all worked up already."

Aria sighed.

"But I'm bored! Aren't you curious what their library looks like?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Xantheus let out a quiet laugh, ruffling her hair before gently pinching her cheeks.

"Ow!"

"Take it easy, sweet girl. The term doesn't start until next year."

Aria rubbed her cheeks and pouted.

Xantheus was always calm, never in a hurry when it came to his studies. He took his time with everything.

Aria, on the other hand, was always eager and impatient—a trait her brother constantly reminded her to control.

He often warned her that pushing herself too hard would only lead to academic burnout, which would ultimately make her studies worse.

But Aria had never felt that.

So she continued to push her limits.
It was no wonder her physical health was in such poor condition.

Back in Koldovstoretz, she practiced riding a tree broom endlessly to improve her flying and sharpen her skill in aerial dueling.

Without her brother's constant reminders to rest and slow down, she exhausted herself every single day.

It was only when she injured herself during an evening practice that she realized she had taken her luck too far.

Yet she did not learn her lesson.

After a week of rest, she did it all over again, earning a deeply disapproving letter from both her parents and her brother.

Since Xantheus refused to join her, she would go to the library alone. Aria stood and walked toward the door.

Xantheus shook his head and sighed as he watched his sister's stubborn determination. He often questioned whether he was putting too much pressure on her when it came to their studies.

He was only two years older, yet he knew he was far wiser than she was.

Because he had to be.

He had to be wise so he could protect her.

He had to be smart so he could teach her.

Their family was happy.

Their father had once been a Hit Wizard, but now he had settled into a quieter life as a barista, while their mother worked as a doctor.

Yet despite that happiness, each passing year seemed to pull their family apart.

Their mother had been diagnosed with brain cancer. At first, they had not thought much of it. She had assured them she would be fine, after all, she was a doctor.

But a few months ago, their father had told Xantheus that it had already progressed to stage three.

He had insisted on returning home, but their parents had refused.

He had not told Aria.

He knew she was already pushing herself too hard.

He knew she was being cruel to herself.

He did not want her to carry the weight of their mother's illness as well.

Their father had made the same decision, to keep the truth from Aria, so their dearest daughter would not overthink or break beneath the burden.

As much as possible, their parents wanted both of them to focus on their studies. Only once they reached their goals, they believed, could they finally breathe.

Their mother's illness was also one of the reasons Xantheus had accepted Dumbledore's offer to attend Hogwarts.

Originally, he had planned to enroll in a different school to search for cures—or at least to learn more about potions, medicine, and healing herbs, while Aria attended Hogwarts alone. But when Dumbledore mentioned a certain Potion Master who excelled beyond expectation, Xantheus knew he could not let such an opportunity pass.
He rubbed his forehead.

An exhausted sigh left his lips, followed by a quiet, broken sob. He was alone. He did not care who heard.

For a moment, he simply needed to let it all out.

The corridors are almost empty, but the atmosphere is still light, welcoming, as if the school has a mind of its own and warmly opened its walls to those who came to seek home.

Aria walked through the tall doors of the Hogwarts library with quiet awe.

The scent of parchment, ink, and old magic immediately wrapped around her like a memory she did not know she had. Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, filled with centuries of knowledge.

She simply stood there, heart pounding, absorbing everything.

So much books she has never seen before.

Her feet carried her straight toward the section on herbs, plants, and magical botany, her fingers trailing along the spines of books as her eyes scanned the titles.

She searched for anything that mentioned medicinal plants, rare fungi, potion ingredients, anything that might hint at cures, treatments, or forgotten remedies.
Her mind was already working, connecting fragments of knowledge from Koldovstoretz with what Hogwarts might offer.

She reached for a thick, leather-bound volume lodged high on the shelf.

Too high.

Aria stood on her toes, stretching as far as she could. Her fingers brushed the corner of the book, but it would not budge.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

With a frustrated huff, she was just about to search for a step stool when a shadow fell across the pages.

A hand—long, large, and pale, reached over her shoulder and pulled the book free with effortless ease.

Aria turned.

Professor Snape stood behind her. He handed the book down without a word.

She took it, startled but grateful. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape's eyes drifted to the title.

Compendium of Magical Illnesses: Symptoms, Causes, and Experimental Treatments.

He paused.

Then he looked at her.

There was confusion there... and something else. A faint flicker of amusement, quickly buried beneath his usual composure.

"You arrived this morning," he said slowly. "Classes do not begin for another year. And yet you have chosen to begin with a very advanced medical theory?"

Aria blinked, clutching the book a little tighter.

"Yes, sir."

Snape's gaze lingered on the thick, complicated text in her arms.

"This book is typically reserved for seventh-year students pursuing medical field."

Aria hesitated. Then, quietly, she said, "I like learning difficult things."

That earned her another look, this time sharper, more assessing.

For a moment, Snape studied her as though she were an unsolved riddle.

Then, to Aria's surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched.

She once thanked him again and went to the nearest table, leaving Snape standing, watching her as she opened the book in a hurry, already skimming the first pages, her eyes lighting up with interest.

He just watched her read, how quickly her gaze moved, how focused she became, how the world around her seemed to vanish.

She had just arrived at Hogwarts.

And already, she was studying as though the castle itself might disappear if she did not seize every moment.

Snape shook his head faintly.

Then he walked away with lingering confusion and reluctant curiosity.

This girl was unlike any student he had ever met.

And he had the distinct feeling she would become impossible to ignore.

Chapter 5: Private Lessons

December 21, 1987

Severus spent his whole day reading and annotating his new personal collection of potion books.

Severus very much liked writing personal opinions and suggestions in the margins of his books, especially those that contained a great amount of knowledge.

It was already four in the afternoon when he finally stood from the couch, placed the books neatly on his desk for later, and left his private chambers. He made his way through the corridors, heading for the potion storeroom to retrieve a few vials.

After gathering what he needed, he closed the storeroom door silently, only to hear the door of his potion classroom open.
He frowned.

Then a girl stepped out.

Aria was shocked to find the Professor standing there. She jumped abruptly, stumbled backward, and landed rather painfully on her backside with a loud gasp.

Severus, to his own surprise, watched in amusement instead of irritation.

She groaned softly and tried to avoid his gaze while steadying herself. Her smile was shy, her eyes wandering around the room instead of meeting his.

“Uh… I’m sorry, Professor… for my sudden arrival.”

“Where are your manners, Miss Nexus? Knock before you enter,” he said coolly.

Aria pouted. “I did, but you weren’t answering.”

“So you assumed it was better to enter my classroom?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“I thought I could wait for you here.”

Severus raised a brow, then shook his head. He had no idea why this girl insisted on bothering him during the exact hours he reserved for his own research. As much as he desired solitude, he knew he could not simply push her away.

He was tasked, specifically from Dumbledore, to look after the siblings and aid them when they seek help. Severus wanted nothing more than to slammed his head on the wall. 

He was told to perform his best behavior for them as they are not just students that came from far place, but they are also their guest. A very special one too.

“What do you want?” His tone came out colder than intended.

She noticed.

“Oh.” She inhaled slowly. “I was wondering if you could help me get started?” she asked quietly, lifting the stack of books she had chosen from the library.

He scoffed when he saw the familiar covers. Advanced potions. Advanced brewing methods. Advanced herbology. Texts that most students would not dare to touch for years.

“We had potions at Beauxbatons,” she explained, “but they only taught the basics.”
She seemed ready to say more, but he already understood.

“I know its Holiday and you should be resting, but I just hope you can help—” Severus cut her off.

“You don't have to explain yourself, silly girl,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers, “I understand your eagerness, nevertheless, I will help you because after all, you are our student.”

Aria smiled.

“I'm really sorry for the interuption, Sir.”

Genuine and Sincere.

“Very well.”

Aria found her place near the teacher's table, she always like to take spot on front because this provide her so many advantages.

For example, getting closer inspection of your handsome Potion Professor while he grades your barely passing potion.

Aria almost giggled at her own thoughts.

It was the first time she had found a Professor so strikingly handsome and she won't deny that.

“What are you working on, Sir?” she asked politely, her eyes studied his figure and gave a curious look on the vials in his hands.

He placed them all carefully in his desk. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he handed her the parchment of paper he has.

She took it from him, skin brushing accidentally that immediately sent electric waves in her. She bit her lip at the feeling but she never look at him.
Severus felt it too and he didn't miss the way she bit her lower lip at the sensation, but she never bother to look up nor talk about it.

It relieves him.

The paper contains his handwriting

Severus felt it too.

He noticed the subtle tightening of her breath, the way she reacted, the way she deliberately kept her gaze lowered. And strangely… he was relieved that she did not speak of it.

He cleared his throat.

“Sit.”

She obeyed at once.

He began explaining the basic structure of potion preparation, ingredient alignment, brewing order, the importance of intention and precision. His voice was calm, controlled, almost hypnotic as he demonstrated the proper way to handle the vials, the correct angle of stirring, the discipline of patience.

All the while, he watched her.

The way she listened.

The way her brow furrowed in concentration.

The way she leaned forward without realizing.

“Your task,” he said, “is an essay. Describe the brewing principles I’ve explained and why each step matters. No hands-on work today.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

As she wrote, her thoughts began to wander.

Not far.

Just… quietly.

How composed he looked when he taught.

How effortlessly precise every movement was.

How that brief contact of their hands had made her chest feel strangely warm.

She shook her head lightly and returned her focus to the parchment, determined to finish it as soon as possible.

Across the room, Severus watched her write.
Watched her concentration. Watched the slight curve of her lips when she found the right words. Watched something inside himself shift, subtle, unsettling, and completely uninvited.

When she finally placed the parchment before him, he read it in silence.

It was flawless.

He did not look up immediately.

Because for reasons he could not explain, something in that quiet moment was undoing him.

The essay was… exceptional. Clear, structured, perceptive beyond her years.

He felt something tighten in his chest.

“Impressive,” he said at last.

Aria’s shoulders loosened, just a little.
Then, almost hesitantly, she slid another parchment across the desk.

He blinked.

It was his own parchment.

The one containing the list of vials he had retrieved, measurements, properties, and the small notes scribbled in the margins. His personal work. His research.

He took it, and his eyes paused on a particular phrase.

Somnus Animae.

A near-forgotten theory.

While the Draught of Living Death mimicked death by stilling the body and the senses, Somnus Animae was far more complex: it preserved the soul’s awareness while the body remained in near-total stasis—suspended between existence and oblivion.

He looked at her.

“You read this." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew she did.

She nodded. “Not all of it… but enough.”
There was no accusation in his voice, only quiet surprise.

She quietly stood there, hands on her back. “At Koldovstoretz, they teach us that no potion exists in isolation. The intention of the brewer, the atmosphere of the room, the magic you weave while stirring… it all matters. If Somnus Animae truly preserves awareness, then the emotional and magical state of the caster becomes part of the potion itself.”

Severus leaned back slowly.

He had not expected that.

“Go on,” he said.

Encouraged, she continued, “they taught us the everything can be bound and blend, no matter what it may be. Magic is blended in potions, astronomy, theory, history, and many more. Sometimes they would have us whisper binding charms into the brew, not incantations, just focused magic.”

For a long moment, he said nothing.

He studied her.

Then his gaze lifted, slowly, to her eyes.
He had noticed them before, of course. But not like this.

They were gold.

Not dull or pale, but burning—warm and bright, catching the candlelight of the room until they seemed almost luminous.

Something in his chest tightened again.

“You are remarkably observant,” he said quietly.

Aria swallowed.

The room had gone very still, the candles flickered and the shadows stretched.

Neither of them seemed eager to break the moment.

For a second, just a second, his eyes lingered on hers longer than was necessary.

Then he looked away.

“You may go,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "We will discuss this again in some other time.”

"Yes, Sir.”

She nod her head, went to her table and gathered her books, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit.

As she reached the door, she hesitated.

“Professor?”

He looked at her.

“Thank you… for today. Goodnight.”

Something unreadable crossed his face. “Good evening, Miss Nexus.”

She left.

The door closed softly behind her.

Severus remained where he was, staring at the parchment in his hands, at the golden candlelight still lingering in his vision, and at the quiet disturbance she had left in the room with him.

Chapter 6: Unknown Feelings

Summary:

Hello! I hope u guys are enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!

Severus had gone back to his private chamber, the familiar silence of the room greeting him as the door closed behind him with a soft, final click that seemed louder than usual in his ears.

After Ms. Nexus left, he had remained in his classroom for several more minutes, standing by his desk with her parchment in hand, re-reading her essay slowly, carefully, his dark eyes scanning each line as if he expected to find an error he had somehow missed before finally, and with a faint reluctant huff of approval, marking it with a bold O at the top.

He was amazed, to say the least.

Her mind was open, brimming with curiosity and restless thought, yet the precision and clarity of her writing stood in quiet contradiction to the scattered focus she claimed plagued her, as though her brilliance lived somewhere deeper than conscious effort, emerging naturally, effortlessly, and that unsettled him in a way he could not name.

She shaped words into sentences as if she had already learned her way around literature long before ever setting foot inside a classroom, writing with the quiet confidence of a painter who already knew the portrait would emerge perfect beneath their hands.

Severus removed his long black robe and draped it over the arm of his chair before moving to the couch, lowering himself onto it with a weary exhale as he stared into the fireplace, the flames dancing and flickering in the reflection of his obsidian eyes, his breathing far too measured, his awareness fixed on the memory of her presence beside him while he tried, unsuccessfully, to untangle the strange sensations tightening in his chest.

He had no idea why being around that girl made him feel things he could neither define nor control.

He felt… lighter, somehow, and beneath that unfamiliar sensation lay a faint warmth he had not felt in years, one that unsettled him far more than anger ever could.

She respected him.

She saw him.

And dear Merlin — she was obedient and careful.

He liked it.

He liked the way she listened as though every word he spoke mattered, the way her quill followed his instructions without hesitation, the way she bit her lip and nodded when he clarified a method, the way she smiled at his sharp remarks about incompetent students, not with amusement alone but with understanding, as though she recognized the exhaustion behind his irritation.

Her reactions, her quiet focus, the unguarded curiosity in her eyes when she looked at him — all of it slipped past his defenses and loosened something he had spent years building walls around.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back against the couch, his shoulders stiff with tension.

Then he remembered her eyes.

They were… beautiful, tantalizingly mesmerizing, their golden hue so rare and striking that he could not deny how perfectly they suited her, no matter how much he wished he could dismiss the thought.

They lingered in his mind longer than they should have, their color warm and strange and far too alive, and the realization that he wanted to see them again sent a low, frustrated growl from his chest.

Whatever the fuck was happening to him had to stop.

With an irritated huff, Severus pushed himself to his feet, scowling as he strode into his bathroom.

A cold shower.

That would do it.

It had to.

Aria, on the other hand, had stopped by the library after her private lesson with Snape, the quiet atmosphere settling over her as she took her seat by the window with parchment spread before her while her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on Snape and the paper he had given her, the one containing his beautiful handwriting and personal invention of Somnus Animae.

The more she thought about it, the more captivated she became, a soft, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips as admiration filled her chest.

She admired him, deeply, sincerely, his passion for potion-making impossible to ignore, his discipline commanding without being cruel, his presence steady and unyielding in a way that made her feel strangely safe.

His intellect and discipline were honestly fascinating, and she could not help drifting back to their earlier lesson, where he had explained everything with such care and precision, never rushing, never dismissing her questions, ensuring she understood not only what to do but why she was doing it.

The way he spoke, the way he explained, the way he pointed out every small detail and offered quiet advice, she relished all of it.

He was amazing, truly.

And then there was the touch.

Brief.

Accidental.

Impossible to forget.

The shock of it had raced through her like lightning, her breath stuttering, her skin burning where his fingers had brushed her own, and the memory of it made her stomach twist even now.

She had forced herself not to look at him.

Not to react.

Not to acknowledge it.

Because there was no reason to.

No place for it.

No future in it.

None.

Aria shook her head and released a quiet breath, forcing her attention back to the parchment as her quill finally touched the page, though her heart refused to slow, her thoughts still tangled in the echo of his presence.

His invention was brilliant by all means, but there were a few missing points, and she believed that perhaps she could help him refine it.

With her time at Koldovstoretz, she had learned many things, especially regarding the deeper use of magic.

Koldovstoretz’s approach to magic was broader and more vast, its teachings of energy, mind, nature, and balance uniquely distinguished, and the school had taught her both the limits and boundaries of magic as well as her own maximum and minimum strengths.

Perhaps she could help Snape.

After all, he intended to create a potion that preserved astral awareness and consciousness, something she had been studying for quite long time, and something in which she quietly excelled, maybe she can offer him something valuable.

And perhaps that was the most dangerous thought of all.

Chapter 7: A New Friend

December 22, 1987

Xantheus and Aria spent the morning slowly memorizing the castle's endless halls and shifting staircases, their steps unhurried, their excitement barely contained, because every stone beneath their feet carried the history of the place where their father had once laughed, learned and grown.

Aria kept touching the cold walls as if they were sacred, whispering little facts she remembered from their father's stories, while Xantheus listened with a soft smile that never quite left his face, his eyes moving across the ancient architecture as though he were trying to picture his father as a boy running through these same corridors.

By the time they finally settled in the Great Hall for lunch, the noon light had already begun to soften through the tall windows when an owl suddenly swooped toward them, wings fluttering with familiarity.

It was Midnight, Xantheus' owl.

Xantheus paused mid-bite, carefully wiping his mouth with the handkerchief their mother had embroidered for him, the one she had personalized with small silver threads because she had grown fond of making things that would always remind them of home.

His fingers lingered against the fabric for a moment before he reached for the letter, and the instant he opened it, Aria leaned closer to peek, until he subtly shifted away, turning his shoulder and hiding the parchment from her view.

She froze, surprise flickering across her face, her eyes darkening with confusion and a quiet sting of hurt.

Xantheus swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He didn't know what to say. The memory of the last letter from a month ago pressed heavily against his chest.

The news of their mother's illness.

Aria still knew nothing about it.

Before he could gather himself, another owl descended between them.

Stardust, Aria's owl, holding a letter addressed neatly in her name.

Xantheus forced a smile, a little too wide, a little too quick, the kind Aria recognized as nervous. He gently nudged her arm and pointed at her own letter.

"Looks like we have separate mail now," he joked, his voice light. "Don't read mine."

She pouted, straightening in her seat, but reached for Stardust affectionately, whispering thanks before sending the owl away. When she finally focused on her own letter, Xantheus allowed himself to breathe again and unfolded his.

To my dearest son,
I am very much glad that you have arrived at Hogwarts safely. I know how adamant you are about coming home, but I don't want you to hold yourself back just because of me.

Mom is doing quite well, especially knowing that my two beloved children are doing something amazing every day. I have been taking good care of myself, my son. Your dad is always by my side whenever I need him, so you don't have to worry so much.

I know you carry a lot on your shoulders as the eldest, but don't forget to look after your sister, alright? You know how impatient and stubborn that child can be — just like your father.

And while you're at it, take care of yourself too. I don't wish for my first baby to live under too much pressure. Rest when your body asks for it, not when it finally forces you to.

With all my love,
Mom

Xantheus smiled, a fragile mixture of relief and sorrow. He was grateful she had support, grateful she wasn't alone, but the words on the page couldn't erase the ache coiled in his chest.

He worried about their father, about how he would sacrifice himself without a word, smiling through the pain, pretending it didn't touch him.

Xantheus had grown up watching that quiet kind of love, and he knew that seeing their mother in pain hurt their father more deeply than he would ever admit.

He folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his pocket, shifting in his seat as his eyes returned to Aria who was now smiling brightly at her own letter, completely unaware of the storm he carried.

When Aria finished reading, a girl approached their table and sat across from them.

"Hi! I'm Lucelia Sherwood, Sixth-Year Ravenclaw," she said, her smile as warm as sunlight.

Xantheus stilled instantly.

"Hello, I'm Aria Nexus, Hufflepuff," Aria replied politely.

"I haven't seen you before. Are you new here?"

Aria nodded. "We arrived two days ago."

Lucelia's eyes softened. "Are you regular students?" she asked in a careful manner, something familiar to Xantheus whenever he ask for uncertain things but still wanted to be polite as much as possible.

"Not exactly. We're... exchange students, in a way. We studied in different schools to expand our knowledge."

Lucelia's eyes widened. "That's incredible! Which schools?"

Aria leaned forward, excited. "First and fourth year at Beauxbatons, then three years at Castelobruxo, and two years at Koldovstoretz!"

Lucelia listened with wonder shining in her blue eyes.

"I should have graduated already," Aria added with a laugh, resting her chin on her hands. "But we wanted to learn more and we have decided to settle our studies and finish here at Hogwarts."

The girls continued talking, but Xantheus barely spoke. Aria noticed everything, the way he nodded when Lucelia spoke, the way his gaze never drifted from her, the soft bite of his lower lip when she laughed, the genuine smile that curved his mouth whenever she made even the smallest joke.

Aria saw it all.

As their plates slowly grew cold between them, Lucelia tilted her head curiously at Aria.

"So... how exactly did you end up stopping for two years?"

Aria hesitated only for a heartbeat, then smiled softly. "After Castelobruxo, I became a private apprentice under a master practitioner," she said, her voice lowering with something close to reverence. "It wasn't part of any school. More like... personal tutelage."

Lucelia's eyes lit up. "In what field?"

Aria's fingers traced invisible patterns on the table as she thought. "It's difficult to name properly. The discipline blends astrology, spiritual theory, consciousness studies, soul magic, and mindcraft, all woven together under what my master called Psychospiritual Arcana." She laughed quietly. "Basically... energies, divination, soul pathways, perception of the unseen, things like that."

"That sounds incredible," Lucelia breathed.

Xantheus listened in silence, fork resting forgotten in his hand. Aria noticed the way his shoulders subtly eased when she spoke about it, the faintest sign of pride, of reassurance, as if hearing her explain it so clearly reminded him that those two years of her learning had been worth it.

"It wasn't easy," Aria continued, more softly now. "But it taught me how everything is connected; thought, spirit, emotion, even destiny. How the mind isn't just in the head and the soul isn't just in the heart."

Lucelia stared at her in awe.

"And your brother just... supported all that?"
Aria glanced at Xantheus, catching the slight shift of his eyes, the small tightening of his jaw.

"He always does."

Xantheus said nothing, only resumed eating slowly, but Aria saw the way the corner of his mouth lifted, just a little, and knew he was glad she had said it.

"I actually love Astronomy," Lucelia said, her eyes brightening as she spoke, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the table.

"Most students think it's dull or pointless, but I think it's beautiful. The way the stars move... the way their patterns change and yet somehow remain constant. It makes you feel small, but in a comforting way."

Aria leaned forward, intrigued. "Not many people take it seriously."

"They should," Lucelia replied, smiling. "The stars influence tides, magic flow, even emotional cycles. Divination is similar — everyone thinks it's all tea leaves and guesswork, but it's about perception. Pattern recognition. Listening to things others don't bother to hear."

Xantheus found himself watching her instead of his plate, the worry that had weighed on him all morning slowly unraveling, replaced by something lighter, something warm and unfamiliar, curiosity.

Aria nodded eagerly. "Yes. Divination is misunderstood. It's not prediction; it's interpretation of probability and energy. My master always said the future isn't written, only suggested."

Lucelia's eyes shone. "Exactly! That's what Professor Ainsworth says too."

Xantheus listened, fascinated, as the two of them exchanged thoughts, theories, tiny bits of knowledge that overlapped and expanded each other. He had never paid much attention to those subjects himself, his world had always been logic, discipline, survival, but hearing the girls speak about them with such focus and quiet passion made them sound... important and real.

"You know," Lucelia added, after a pause, "my favorite subject is actually History of Magic. Everyone groans when they hear the name, but I love knowing where spells come from, why certain traditions exist. Magic feels more... alive when you understand its story."

Aria smiled. "I feel the same. I think that is something many witches and wizard forgot that in our world, magic takes shape in every form and in every form has its own story to tell."

Lucelia agreed to her, the two witches became really engrossed with their own world.

"And Herbology," Lucelia continued, laughing softly. "That's the one that made me decide what I want to become. A healer. Plants don't just mend the body, they calm the mind, stabilize magic, even influence the soul."

Xantheus's breath caught slightly.

A healer.

He studied her face — the sincerity in her expression, the gentleness in her eyes — and something inside him shifted. He admired the way she listened to his sister, the way she spoke with certainty but without arrogance, the way she cared about knowledge not for prestige, but for purpose.

For the first time since receiving the letter, his mind was not trapped in fear.

It was simply... full.

Chapter 8: Sketchbook

Summary:

I DRAW THE PHOTO BELOWWWW! HSHSHSHSHS WHAT DO U GUYS THINK?

December 23, 1987

After yesterday's encounter with Lucelia, she had offered to be their tour guide around the castle. Lucelia spoke with the confidence of someone who knew Hogwarts not merely as a school, but as a living organism, breathing with hidden corridors and forgotten staircases, and she had promised them secret places most students would never find - pockets of quiet tucked between stone walls where the world seemed to pause, places made for solitude, for reflection, for the kind of silence that allows a person to finally hear themselves think.

By late afternoon, when the golden light of the sun had begun to soften into amber and stretch long shadows across the corridors, Aria decided to part ways with her brother and Lucelia. The noise of companionship, though warm, had begun to press against her thoughts, and she craved stillness. She carried her sketchbook against her chest as she made her way toward the library, that familiar sanctuary of hushed voices and floating dust motes caught in the sun.

She returned to the same seat where she had sat the day before, the same wooden table where she had spent her remaining hours drafting what would become a valuable contribution to Snape's research work that still lingered in her mind.

The mere thought of Snape sent a sudden warmth rushing to her face, as if her own thoughts had betrayed her. He had been occupying her mind with unsettling persistence, weaving himself into her focus when she least expected it, and she had no idea how to banish him from her thoughts or if she truly wanted to.

It was nothing improper. It was the quiet curiosity of someone standing at the edge of a storm, wanting to understand the thunder rather than fear it. She wanted to unravel the darkness that lingered in him, the cruelty and sorrow he concealed behind the walls he had spent years constructing, brick by emotional brick. It fascinated her, that mixture of shadow and ache, the contradictions stitched into his being. And somehow, inexplicably, she wanted to reach toward that darkness, to show him that she saw it, that she understood him, that she did not measure him by the echoes of his past but by the truth of who he was beneath it.

Lucelia had spoken of him the night before with an almost theatrical disdain, telling them how vile and cruel Snape could be with students, especially children. How he always found a way to insult them, whether by mocking their struggles in class, dismantling their confidence with sharp words, criticizing their intelligence, their behavior, their very presence. Lucelia's stories were vivid, laced with frustration and fear, and meant to warn them.

Yet Aria had found herself quietly amused.

Not because cruelty amused her, but because people were never as simple as the stories told about them.

Aria had never been comfortable with the idea of hurting children through words. Raised with gentle voices and soft-spoken guidance, she was unaccustomed to being insulted, unprepared for being diminished. When she had first arrived at Beauxbatons, the transition had been difficult. There was one professor, sharp-tongued and unyielding, who had once told her that she possessed intelligence but lacked the ability to use it properly. The words had struck deeper than the professor probably intended.

She had not cried, but the sentence had lived in her mind for weeks, repeating itself like an echo in an empty room. Two weeks later, that same professor had summoned her for a private conversation. There was no apology, only explanation: that the cruelty had been meant as challenge, as encouragement. Aria, still young, had not understood the logic behind such a method, but she never forgot it.

That moment became the beginning of her fascination with the human mind, how one could wound and heal with the same voice, how kindness and cruelty could coexist, how affection could hide behind sharp edges, how coldness could sometimes be nothing more than love wearing armor.

As she grew older, she learned to read people the way others read books, noticing the pauses, the glances, the unsaid words between sentences. She often wondered whether her studies shaped her into this observer of hearts, or whether this sensitivity had always lived within her, waiting for the right language to express itself.

Aria released a long sigh and slumped back in her chair, the weight of her thoughts settling heavily against her chest.

And speaking of Snape, he had not summoned her since their last lesson. The realization brought with it a small, unwelcome ache. She had been looking forward to their next private session, eager to learn more, eager, though she barely admitted it, to see him again.

She almost groaned when she realized how much of her mind he had consumed.

Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps hope, but Aria believed Snape was not as terrible as people claimed, nor as monstrous as he allowed himself to appear. Somewhere beneath the sharpness, beneath the bitterness and thorns, she was certain there was care.

She had seen it in his eyes.

In the way his silence sometimes spoke louder than his words.

She knew nothing of his past, nothing of the roads that led him here, yet she sensed that his concern manifested in strange ways - warped by grief, disguised by harshness, hidden behind cruelty. He was a riddle most people never bothered to solve.

But nothing escaped the eyes of someone who could still find light, even in the deepest shadow.

Aria straightened her posture, sharpened her pencil, and finally turned to the purpose that had brought her here. It had been far too long since she had sketched. Her days were always overflowing with obligations and studies, leaving little space for this quiet form of breathing. Yet charcoal and ink gave her something books never could, the ability to capture the invisible, to freeze feelings, to translate emotion into shape and shadow.

Each stroke of her hand felt like a confession.

Each line carried a fragment of her thoughts.

Time slipped away unnoticed, until her sketchbook was filled with drawings, plants, herbs, intricate roots and leaves, and finally, without quite realizing when it had happened, Severus Snape.

Aria stared at the last page. She had drawn him exactly as she remembered him that night: seated behind his desk, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable, unaware of the quiet attention with which she had studied him. The likeness unsettled her. It felt too honest.

Outside, darkness had fully claimed the sky. Dinner would soon be served. But instead of packing her things, Aria rested her head on the table, folding her arms beneath her like a pillow.

Just a little rest, she told herself.

Just a little nap.

But time did not merely pass, it slipped away from her.

The small nap Aria had promised herself stretched quietly into something deeper, heavier, until her thoughts dissolved and her body surrendered fully to sleep. The candles in the library dimmed, one by one, until the soft silver of moonlight replaced their glow. When the great clock in the hall finally chimed eight, its echo rolling faintly through the ancient stones, Aria did not stir. Her head remained resting upon her folded arms, her sketchbook tucked beneath them like a secret she refused to part with even in dreams.

It was at that hour that Severus Snape entered the library.

His purpose was simple - for research. The kind that consumed him nightly, the kind that left no room for distraction. His robes moved like shadows between the shelves as he searched for a particular volume on advanced potion stabilization, his mind already sorting ingredients and margins of unfinished theories.

Then, through the tall windows, moonlight spilled across the floor, and caught upon something pale.

His eyes followed the brightness without conscious intention, drawn to the window alcove where a girl sat sleeping, her white hair glowing beneath the moon's quiet blessing as though it were spun from starlight itself.

Aria.

Severus stopped.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, watching.

She looked impossibly young in sleep, the lines of worry and thought that so often danced behind her eyes finally at rest. Her breathing was slow, steady, peaceful - the kind of peace he had long forgotten how to carry. Beneath her folded arms lay a notebook.

A faint smirk touched his lips before he could stop it.

Studying, even now.

It was... oddly endearing. That relentless hunger for knowledge. That stubborn devotion to learning.

He moved closer, intending to wake her, but the nearer he came, the clearer his view became, the gentle curve of her lashes against her cheeks, the softness of her expression, the way moonlight painted her hair with silver until she looked less like a student and more like something out of a dream.

A sleeping angel.

The thought unsettled him.

For one irrational heartbeat, he considered letting her sleep.

But reality, as always, reclaimed him.

"Miss Nexus," he said quietly.

She stirred at once, breath hitching as she woke too quickly, eyes flying open in startled confusion. When she saw him, her shock turned instantly to flustered color blooming across her cheeks. She straightened, nearly knocking the notebook from beneath her arms.

Severus's gaze dropped, just briefly, to the open page.

He froze.

It was only a glimpse. A single breath of an image. But he recognized it.

It was him.

Aria quickly noticed at the same moment and snapped the sketchbook shut with hurried hands, clutching it to her chest as though it were suddenly fragile.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Severus mastered his expression with years of discipline. He knew better than to leap to conclusions. Artists sketched many things. Faces overlapped. Memories blurred. It could have been coincidence.

And yet...

The possibility lingered.

He turned away as if he had seen nothing.
"It is eight o'clock," he said, voice once again cool and measured. "You will pack your things. I will escort you back to your dormitory."

"Yes, sir," Aria murmured.

They left the library together, her footsteps soft, his silent behind her.

Severus observed the way she held her sketchbook now, tight against her chest, arms wrapped around it protectively, as though afraid someone might take it from her. The moonlight followed them through the corridor windows, trailing silver between them, and for reasons he refused to examine too closely, Severus found himself watching her far more carefully than the path ahead.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

How are you finding the story so far? T T

Chapter 9: A Gift

A Gift

 

December 24, 1987

Xantheus had woken earlier than he usually did, the kind of waking that came not from rest but from restless waiting, the echo of yesterday still lingering in his chest like unfinished music. He had fallen asleep in the common room after waiting for Aria to return, her absence gnawing at him with quiet unease.

She had slipped away sometime in the afternoon, murmuring that she needed to do something, and he had let her go without protest, trusting her words. The hours passed, he had spent the evening with Lucelia, talking in that careful, meandering way he always did, about books he loved, ancient spells he found fascinating, obscure theories of magic that most students dismissed as tedious.

He expected her eyes to glaze over, expected polite boredom, but instead Lucelia listened as if he were telling the most thrilling story in the world. She laughed at his dry remarks, leaned closer when he grew thoughtful, and in return told him about herself, the things she loved, the things she avoided, how she would much rather sit in a corner discussing forgotten magical principles with him than lose herself in noisy parties that left her feeling empty.

And somewhere in that quiet exchange, something in him shifted.

He was fascinated with her, the way she spoke with such gentle care until excitement made the words spill from her lips like starlight, the way her eyes brightened when she spoke of things she loved, the way her brows furrowed whenever something irked her, the way she could be so easily riled up, passion flashing across her face like sudden fire. He found himself memorizing her expressions without meaning to, as though his heart had begun writing its own secret language.

With a groan, Xantheus finally stirred from the couch, realizing he had fallen asleep there. He rubbed his eyes, trying to recall why he hadn't gone back to the dormitory, and then memory rushed in: Aria, the waiting, the quiet night. He stood abruptly, worry snapping him fully awake, and hurried toward the girls' dormitory.

Just as he rounded the corner, Aria walked straight into him.

They collided.

"Oof!" Aria gasped as she lost her balance, landing hard on the floor.

"Sweets!" Xantheus exclaimed, instantly kneeling and helping her up, his hands gentle but urgent. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, brushing her robes. "I'm fine, Theus."

"Where have you been all night?" he asked, his voice thick with concern, eyes searching her face like he might still find traces of danger lingering there.

Aria frowned at him, then softened, amused.
"Didn't I tell you I was going to the library?" she said, a teasing note in her voice.

"Honestly, you were probably too busy with Lucy to remember."

He froze, then gave a sheepish little smile.
"Oh... yeah. Right." That smile said everything.

She laughed quietly, the sound easing the tension in his chest.

Aria glanced at the small watch on her wrist, a gift from their father last Christmas, one of her most treasured things, its ticking like a heartbeat she carried with her always.

"Breakfast is starting," she said. "Shall we?"

Xantheus nodded and offered his arm. Aria slipped her hand through it, and together they walked the long stone halls of the castle, their steps echoing softly beneath the towering arches, winter light spilling through the stained glass like pale gold.

When they arrived, Lucelia was already seated at the Hufflepuff table. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw them, and she waved enthusiastically, motioning them over as if afraid they might disappear if she blinked.
Xantheus sat across from her, and Aria took the seat beside Lucelia.

It hadn't even been a week, yet somehow Ari and Lucelia had already become inseparable, like kindred spirits finding each other in a crowded world.

"Have you two ever been to Hogsmeade?" Lucelia asked, her voice bright with excitement.

"No," Aria replied. "What's that?"

"A small village nearby! We always go during the holidays. Do you want to come with me later?"

Aria smiled warmly. "We'd love to."

And then, as if pulled by instinct rather than thought, her gaze lifted.

She caught her breath as she found the eyes of the man she's looking for was already staring at her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her heart stuttering like it had forgotten its rhythm. His face was unreadable, dark and still, but instead of looking away, she held his gaze. The moment stretched, delicate and dangerous, like a thread drawn too tight between them.

Yearning stirred where it had no right to exist.

Aria remained still, as though even the smallest movement might shatter whatever fragile, invisible thread now bound the moment together. Around her, the Great Hall breathed with life, the low murmur of voices, the clink of cutlery, yet all of it seemed to blur, fading into a distant hush that existed beyond her awareness. Her thoughts folded inward, circling him, returning again and again to the same quiet truth she never dared to say aloud: that she admired him with a devotion both reverent and aching.

She admired the way he carried himself, like someone shaped by storms yet unmoved by them. She admired the discipline in his posture, the severity that hid a depth no one else seemed to notice, the mind she sensed behind his eyes; sharp, intricate, endlessly alive. There was something in his presence that felt older than the castle walls, something solemn and commanding that stirred her heart with both awe and longing. To her, he was not merely a professor. He was a mystery written in shadow and ink, and she wanted, desperately, to read every page.

And as she studied him, her heart softened, the admiration deepening into something warmer, heavier, more dangerous. A quiet ache settled behind her ribs, an emotion that bloomed slowly, like frost spreading across glass, beautiful and impossible to stop. She told herself it was respect, curiosity, inspiration, anything but what it truly was. But her pulse betrayed her. Her breath betrayed her. Her eyes betrayed her.

Across the hall, Severus Snape remained unmoving, though the world within him was anything but still.

His gaze rested on her without his permission, drawn there as if by some ancient law of gravity. He told himself he was merely observing, noting her focus, her composure, the way she held herself so attentively despite her youth. Curiosity, he insisted. Academic interest. Nothing more.

Yet his thoughts did not seem to agree with him.

They wandered, unguarded and treacherous, toward the light in her expression, the softness of her presence, the unsettling calm she seemed to bring even from across the room. Something about her unsettled him in a way he had not felt in years, not since the world had taught him the cost of feeling too deeply. The sensation stirred old memories, old wounds, and a dangerous familiarity he refused to name.

He denied it, firmly and relentlessly. He had learned long ago the futility of longing. He had built his life upon restraint, upon silence, upon burying the heart so deeply that it could no longer wound him.

And yet, beneath the discipline, beneath the denial, something stirred.

A feeling he knew too well, and would not, could not, allow himself to touch.

So he remained still.

So did she.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to erase her in his vision and mind.

With a quiet huff, he stood up from his seat and walked out.

After finishing their breakfast, Aria and Xantheus returned to their dormitory to wash up and change into warmer clothes for their small excursion to Hogsmeade.

Lucelia was already waiting outside their common room, her breath puffing into soft clouds in the cold air. She had secured their permission slips ahead of time, clutching them triumphantly in one gloved hand.

Aria immediately laced her fingers with Lucelia's as they stepped out, while Xantheus followed behind them at an unhurried pace, his hands tucked into his coat.

It was bitterly cold outside. Snow lay thick upon the ground, glistening like scattered diamonds, and the entire village glowed with the quiet magic of the holidays, lanterns burning warm gold, wreaths hanging from every door, the air scented with pine and spiced sweets.

Aria's lips curved into a gentle smile as they passed the shops Lucelia enthusiastically recommended, the girl recounting small stories of her past visits with gestures and bright laughter.

Then, one particular shop caught Aria's attention.

"What's that, Cy?" she asked, pointing to the narrow storefront ahead of them.

Its window display overflowed with peculiar objects, shimmering trinkets, strange vials, worn relics, things both beautiful and rare, some unlike anything she had ever seen.

"I'm not entirely sure," Lucelia admitted, squinting at the display. "But a friend told me you can trade with them here, or purchase things normally. Either you pay in gold, or you offer something of equal value to whatever you want."

"Can we go inside?" Xantheus asked, his curiosity plainly written on his face.

Both girls nodded, and together they stepped through the door.

A small bell chimed overhead.

"Welcome to Sea Trades! Buy or offer for the things you desire!"

Aria wandered deeper into the shop, her eyes moving slowly over shelves heavy with mystery. Lucelia soon drifted off when a collection of ancient jewelry captured her attention, while Xantheus followed her, clearly just as fascinated. Their voices faded into quiet discussion near the front.

Meanwhile, Aria found herself drawn toward the back of the shop, where the light dimmed and the air felt older somehow, thick with quiet and secrets. Here lay shelves of ancient books, unusual potion, and rare items, half-hidden as though the shop itself wished to protect them.

Compared to the lively front, this section seemed almost forgotten. Instinctively, Aria sensed that the items here carried far greater worth.

"Amazing how you managed to find this place so easily," a man's voice spoke behind her.

She turned slightly. "Pardon?"

"This part of the shop is enchanted," he explained, smiling with quiet intrigue. "A very rare kind of magic. It only reveals itself to those who possess both keen intellect and remarkable talent, qualities I suspect you do not lack."

The implication made her laugh softly, a little embarrassed yet pleased. They shared a light chuckle before Aria turned her attention back to the artifacts.

"Could you tell me about these?" she asked.

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

She picked up an old book, its spine cracked, its pages yellowed with age, a relic that seemed to breathe history. Each sheet whispered of decades, perhaps centuries, of hands that had turned it, eyes that had studied its secrets.

"What is this about?"

"Magnum Somnium: De Arte Potionalis et Animae," he recited reverently. "That book is, in essence, a diary."

Her brows knit with curiosity.

"Long ago, a witch sought to explore her unconscious while remaining awake. She wished to unravel the spirit world, to wander the vast domains of dreams and soul. She read until her eyes bled, researched until sleep became a stranger, and eventually created her own system of magic, spells to tether the mind, potions to anchor the body, charms to guard the soul, and rituals to weave them together in that book."

Aria listened in quiet awe, the book growing heavier in her hands, as though it now carried the weight of another life.

For a moment, Aria felt as if the book were watching her back.

Not long after, Xantheus and Lucelia approached the counter with their purchases. Aria joined them.

"What did you get?" Lucelia asked.

"Just a book I found interesting," Aria replied casually, carefully tucking it away, unwilling to reveal more just yet.

As evening settled in, the trio finally made their way back to Hogwarts, weary but content. The castle welcomed them with warm torchlight and familiar silence. When the others weren't looking, Aria slipped away.

She moved swiftly through the corridors, heart pounding, until she reached the dungeon where the Potions classroom is located. She inhaled deeply before knocking, silently hoping Professor Snape was inside.

"Enter."

She eased the door open and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her. Nerves fluttered in her chest as she approached his desk.

"What have I done to deserve the honor of your presence, Miss Nexus?" Snape drawled without lifting his gaze, quill still moving.

Severus did not wish to see anyone.

Not after what had happened earlier, the unspoken tension, the fleeting moment of weakness, the look in her eyes that had unsettled him far more than any potion accident ever could. He had retreated to his classroom precisely to escape it, burying himself in work as if ink and parchment could smother thought.

And yet here she stood.

Her presence stirred something deeply unwelcome, a disquiet he refused to acknowledge, a sensation too close to vulnerability. He told himself she was merely another student, merely another interruption, and yet his mind betrayed him, lingering on the way her gaze had lingered on him longer than necessary.

He despised that it mattered.

"For you, Professor," Aria said, extending the small brown-wrapped gift.

When she extended the item toward him, time itself seemed to falter. Severus's quill halted mid-stroke. His breath caught, subtle but unmistakable.

No one gave him gifts.

Not students.

Not colleagues.

Not anyone who truly knew him.

Except for Dumbledore who would give him two packs of different flavor of candies.

He lifted his gaze slowly, dark eyes meeting her golden ones.

Her voice was soft and sincere.

"Happy Christmas, Professor Snape."

The words fell upon him not as sound, but as impact, gentle, yet devastating. And for the first time in many years, Severus Snape did not immediately know what to say.

Chapter 10: What the Silence Knows

Severus stared at the unopened gift lying on his desk, his eyes never once leaving its silent presence. He had not touched it since Nexus had handed it to him, not after the long, wordless moment when he had merely sat there, staring at her in mute disbelief before finally, almost mechanically, accepting it.

When he had placed the gift upon his desk, he had not moved again. He simply remained there, still as stone, staring, observing, thinking, as if the object itself were a riddle he was not yet prepared to solve.

He thinks what did he do to deserve such gestures, he thinks what kind of trick the universe is playing at him, he thinks...of her.

Severus told himself she must be pretending, pretending to be kind, pretending to be a diligent, respectful student, perhaps seeking his favor, attempting to earn his approval through calculated politeness. Surely this was merely strategy.

But then he realize, why would she even want his approval anyways? The girl had crossed borders and oceans, studied in different schools, in different countries, expanding her horizons in ways few ever dared. That alone marked her as no ordinary witch. She was capable, intelligent, perceptive, and sharp, so much so that Severus would go far by acknowledging that she might be his equal, perhaps even his superior, though he would never allow such a thought to leave the privacy of his mind.

He sighed and slumped back in his chair, closing his eyes as his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, weariness threading through his bones.

There was no reason for her to do this unless

Unless she was actually genuine.

He doesn't want to admit it, Merlin help him, but he couldn't think of any reason for her to be this kind and considerate to him.

Opening his eyes, he reached for the gift and, without further hesitation, tore away the wrapping, his movements rougher than intended, frustration coiling in his chest.

Perhaps this was a joke, a entertainment to her, surely beneath that gentle façade and innocent face hid something far less pleasant.

But the moment Severus saw the cover, he froze. His breath caught and his eyes widened.

The book lay in his hand, papers old as history, pages ancient like sands, the rough surfaces and edges shows decades of stories and studies.

He hasn't seen anything like it, it was beautiful despite of its worn out displays. The words written on the cover can still be read, still crystal clear, as if those who had held this made sure to take care of it as much as they can.

The book lay in his hands, pages old as history, paper aged like desert sands, its rough surface and worn edges bearing decades of knowledge, of careful study, of countless unseen hands that had treasured it. He had never seen anything like it. Despite its age, it was beautiful. The title upon the cover remained perfectly legible, as though every previous owner had guarded it with reverence.

Severus turned the pages slowly, almost reverently, his fingertips gliding across the ancient paper. Wonder flooded his mind. His heart, to his great annoyance, fluttered with something dangerously close to excitement. Each line he read sparked ideas, theories, possibilities, his research unfolding before him like a long-locked door finally opening. Then his thoughts drifted back to her like a wave of the ocean.

She gave this, a gift, because she knew this would help him.

She saw his studies, his theories, his personal work, and she read it and remembers it. She took careful note of his work and offer what useful to him.

He closed the book, opened one of his drawer on his desk and put it inside. He knew how helpful that book will be for his research and theories, he knew the value and worth of its knowledge, he knew and that's why it's dangerous.

Severus Snape could not indulge in the dangerous luxury of being seen and appreciated so willingly, so genuinely.

He commanded respect through strictness.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Severus remained seated long after the drawer had closed, his fingers still resting on the wood as though the book’s presence could be felt through it. The office had grown unbearably quiet. Even the torches along the walls seemed to flicker more softly, as if the castle itself were listening.

He had lived his life building walls, stone upon stone, each one raised from disappointment, betrayal, and the cruel education of experience. He trusted no gesture that came without condition. Kindness had always been a transaction. Affection, a weapon. Care, a weakness that the world eagerly punished.

And yet she had offered him something without asking for anything in return.

He rose from his chair and began pacing the office, black robes whispering against the floor like restless shadows. His mind dragged him backward through years he had long since sealed away.

Promises broken. Loyalties misplaced. People who had looked at him with warmth once, before the world taught them better. He had survived by learning one rule.

Do not hope.

Hope led to attachment.

Attachment led to loss.

Loss led to ruin.

And yet, her image slipped into his thoughts again. The way she had stood there, calm but uncertain, offering him the gift with a quiet sincerity that had no place in his world.

She did not belong in the life he had built.

Meanwhile, Aria fled through the stone corridors of the castle, her footsteps echoing until she reached the girls’ bathroom. She pushed the door open and leaned over the sink, breathing hard and uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she had run from something far more dangerous than distance.

When she finally lifted her head, she met her reflection, her cheeks flushed red as a fresh tomato.

Just what was she thinking anyways?!

Aria tried to calm her wavering heart, she run her fingers through her soft and long silver-white hair before clasping her hands through her mouth as if she had said something so stupid.

He won't think she has some sort of fascination towards him, right? It was just a gesture to respect and gratitude, the gift was merely a tool to help him with his research because she knew it would be valuable to him.

Professional and purely educational.

Right?

The longer she stared at her reflection, the more it seemed to mock her. For someone who had spent years understanding others, she could not make sense of herself. Her thoughts contradicted her heart, and her heart defied her mind.

The irony burned.

Aria bit her lower lip, turned on the tap, and washed her face with cool water, trying to soothe the heat in her cheeks and the storm inside her chest. When she finally calmed, she slipped from the bathroom and made her way toward the Hufflepuff common room.

Xantheus was nowhere in sight, and she was grateful for it. She was not ready to face anyone.

She entered her dormitory and collapsed onto her bed.

Everything had happened too fast. Her actions, her feelings, all of it had surged beyond anything she recognized in herself. Weeks ago, Aria would never have believed she was capable of behaving this way.

Though naturally lively, she had always been composed, cheerful yet restrained, polite and careful in everything she did.

The gift itself had been gratitude.

But the feelings that led her to buy it were something else entirely.

The night continued to stretch across the castle, silent and watchful, as if the stones themselves were holding their breath.

Not far from Severus’s classroom, soft but deliberate footsteps moved through the corridor.

Xantheus had not intended to come here.
At least, that was what he told himself as he stopped before the familiar dungeon door, his hand hovering just inches from the wood. The torches along the wall cast thin ribbons of light across his face, catching the faint crease of worry between his brows.

He had said goodbye to Lucelia a while ago, he had notice Aria leaving but didn't say anything. Xantheus knew that girl would be at the library, she had a habbit of slipping away since they've arrived here, he find it amusing than odd. The little sister who always follows him around, afraid of leaving his side, is now constantly finding ways to separate with him.

Xantheus knocked once, firm but respectful.
Inside, Severus’s pacing halted.

The sound cut through the thick web of his thoughts, sharp and unwelcome. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, returning to the safety of his solitude and his discipline, but the knock came again, softer this time, persistent.

With visible restraint, Severus crossed the room and opened the door.

Xantheus straightened immediately. His gaze was steady, though there was determination and quiet begging in his eyes.

“Professor,” he said. “May I speak with you?”
The silence between them tightened, heavy with things neither of them yet named.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Nexus?” Severus asked, his voice controlled but edged with unmistakable exhaustion, as though the very act of speaking required an unreasonable amount of patience. The evening had already drained him of enough strength, and now here stood yet another complication, knocking on his door like fate with an unfortunate sense of humor.

How, in Merlin’s profoundly questionable wisdom, did he keep becoming entangled with these two? Did the castle possess some malicious instinct that directed every inconvenience straight into his path?

Not long ago, he had actually been… keen—to teach them, to guide two minds that were sharp, disciplined, and dangerously promising.

That had been before the tension.

Before her.

Before every shared glance, every quiet moment, every impossible awareness that now haunted him like a poorly brewed potion that refused to settle.

Now the mere thought of spending time with them both felt like volunteering to step into a cauldron that might explode at any moment.

“I wanted to discuss the reason we came here, Professor.”

Ah. Yes.

That reason.

Dumbledore’s cheerful face floated into Severus’s mind, all twinkling eyes and catastrophic decisions. He had assigned him to guide and assist the siblings as though Severus’s life were not already a chaos of battlefield.

Excellent.

Absolutely excellent.

Soon he would be brewing antidotes while simultaneously managing emotional tension that had no business existing in his classroom.

“Alright. Come.” Severus stepped aside with measured reluctance and allowed Mr. Nexus into his office, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

Once the door closed behind them, he gestured sharply toward the center of the room.

“Speak.”

“I did not intend to attend Hogwarts, Professor. In fact, I was meant to be somewhere else entirely. But when I met Headmaster Dumbledore, he told me there was a certain professor teaching here who excels beyond imagination in the field of Potions,” Xantheus explained with calm precision, his voice steady, respectful, almost rehearsed. Severus listened in silence, arms folding slowly across his chest, his expression unreadable, though one brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Beyond imagination? Dumbledore truly enjoyed exaggeration almost as much as ruining his life.

“And I wanted your help, Professor.”

Severus lifted his eyebrows, his dark eyes locking onto the boy’s golden-brown ones. The contrast between them felt like night pressing against dawn, neither willing to retreat.

“Help for what?” he asked.

The pause that followed was small, but it carried weight, as though the air itself leaned closer to hear the answer.

Severus felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavy and cold. He remained perfectly still, but something inside him shifted. He had agreed to teach these two because of their potential. Their minds. Their discipline.

‘Merlin preserve me,’ he said to his thoughts darkly, 'If this continues, I may require a cure of my own.'