In all ways, he was glad to be back at the castle for once in his life. It would mean that the tasks for the Dark Lord would slow… he would not be required at the meetings which had exploded in frequency over the past few months… he would have a new role to distract himself with…
And he would be with her for longer than two seconds a week.
Severus would freely admit (well – to himself) that his entire existence for thirty-six years on this planet had not been completely void of troubles. He would be less likely still to admit that there been particularly dark moments where he had been so close, teetering right on the edge, of ending this miserable reality once and for all. There had been dark moments, very dark moments, when he had forgotten completely why he was fighting in the first place… but most of that had been before the Astronomy professor had confidently strutted into his life – smirking all the way as she did.
Now, though. This year in particular. Things had taken a drastic turn for the worst.
He was firmly seated back in the Dark Lord's closest ranks. Only this time, the seat coexisted with being Dumbledore's right hand man simultaneously. He could never have fathomed, even with the life he had lived up until this point, the amount of weight every inch of his bones would be feeling every second of every single day this year.
And the only thing that made that excruciating ache slightly more bearable was currently sitting opposite him at the Head Table of the Great Hall, shooting Dumbledore and Slughorn simultaneous glares over her string beans.
Severus could not help but fail to stifle a small smile at the very sight.
Borealis. Glorious, infuriating, maddening Borealis. What would he do without her?
It was either that thought, or everything in general, that made Severus push the entire plate of food away. He hadn't eaten anything remotely like food in months. He had mainly lived off a diet of bread and half cans of cold baked beans; Wormtail scurrying around him every single day for the last six weeks. He had kept himself mostly to his bedroom unless on some sort of mission from either the Order or the Dark Lord… well, the bedroom that had once belonged to his parents at least, before Tobias had perished at the hands of the Death Eaters and his mother at the hands of the Dementors of Azkaban – falsely accused of his murder.
And so, their utter failure of a son, had taken up residence in the master bedroom of the house that had once been full of shouting, screaming, crying and the smashing of various dinnerware. It was not a place he had ever imagined languishing in for the rest of his life, particularly not with Wormtail in tow in his old and tiny second bedroom, but it seemed more and more likely that Spinner's End would be the one and only poor excuse for a refuge he would ever receive.
These six weeks had been a purer kind of hell than ever before, because with Wormtail keeping a guileful eye on all of the proceedings in his abode: Severus had been forced to evict the one person who had finally managed to soften the harsh edges of the old, dilapidated house on the edge of the street next to the industrial mill. Aurora had only just begun to call Spinner's End her home, deciding to make the move from her brother's comfortably warm flat in London to Severus's cold, derelict ruins in the North West two years ago. Her telescopes, charts, planetary calendars, astrophysical quadrants, West African relics – had formed a perfect balance with his books, cauldrons, jars of herbs, magical artefacts and long-dead organisms.
The shithole had finally become something remotely like a home. And it had been their home and Severus would never have managed using that sentence in his entire life. But if the woman was utterly berserk enough to actively choose to keep him in her life – who was he to object? He certainly was not going to let on that he felt she could do an infinite amount better than settling for him; what if it made her finally realise it? What is she packed up and left immediately for a man who was generous, kind, physically appealing, and not riddled with bitterness and insecurities that ate him up inside every second of every day? A man who ventured even slightly into the realm of deserving her?
No, that wouldn't do. He would keep her for as long as he was capable thank you very much.
He barely even heard Dumbledore announce his name to the entire faculty and school body during his yearly speech on staff changes. He only managed a weak wave toward the only House applauding him (no points for guessing who they were) on his new position as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He managed a sly side look at the Astronomy mistress after they had settled down, and she was still glaring in Dumbledore's direction which such intent that Severus was surprised the Headmaster didn't spontaneously burst into flames. Fuck. At least he had her in his corner.
How long would he prepared to keep her in his corner, though? Knowing what was to come. What he had to do.
No. No he could not think in it. Live each day minute by minute – that was the only thing enabling his survival at present; forbidding him to end it all when the prospect of the future became too much. When the prospect of how much Borealis would hate him became too much… how she would never love him again and believe that he had never loved her at all.
At least she had loved him once.
And he couldn't let her go, not even when betrayal and murder was on the horizon. It would have been for her own benefit if he could simply end everything with her… end it now and spare her the pain, or least most of the pain… but he couldn't. He couldn't do it. His selfishness in wanting to belong to her was too strong: a spell too potent to break. He would be hers until the very last moment, the very last second he could manage… and the fact that he knew she would be torn apart made him hate himself more viciously than he had ever done before. It was no easy feat to hate himself more than he already had done all his life.
Without even realising it, the Great Hall had begun clearing after everyone had finished dessert. The sound of the hundreds of clueless students clamouring to get back to their dormitories was what had finally shaken Severus out of his depressing trance.
Severus's eyes scanned the staff table once again to see if Aurora would be willing to invite him over tonight. For privacy's sake they had never officially combined sleeping quarters. It was much easier to hide things this way, and they did very much enjoy their own space; but tonight… tonight… after finally returning to the only sanctuary offered to them at the moment, every nerve in him was on the edge of begging to not be left alone tonight. He wanted her marks on him. For such sweet, relieving pain to be delivered by the only one who loved him and who truly cared if he lived or died. He would wear those bruises and cuts and burns with pride upon his skin coming from Her hand.
But the opportunity of spending the evening at the bottom of her feet and worshipping every ounce of her had slipped away from his fingers. Aurora was currently storming out of the Great Hall with what appeared to be desperate intention to get away from everyone as quickly as possible, she was wearing black robes and a cloak tonight, just like he, and they shadowed her like a storm had been stitched to her back.
Severus caught the Headmaster's eye and hastily pushed all ache and emotion back into the bottomless pit of his stomach before Dumbledore's concerned gaze could get any more palpable.
"Severus…" he said quietly over the dispelling sounds of stragglers and the chattering of the staff who had remained. Snape allowed himself to be beckoned over and arrived at the older wizard's side.
"Headmaster" he replied as civilly as he could.
Dumbledore followed the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's contemplation toward the end of the Great Hall before the hems of a black velvet cloak swept around the doorframe before continuing.
"I require your presence in my office for a few moments before you retire tonight," Dumbledore said calmly, "if it's no trouble."
"Of course," Severus answered on autopilot. As if he could refuse either his puppet masters at this point.
When Dumbledore had started to walk ahead of him a few paces, he had once again turned around and added quietly to the younger man: "it is rather urgent, Severus…"
His name shook him out of his painful contemplation even just for the briefest moment for him to keep up with the Headmaster. He walked silently, side-by-side next to him, although it felt much more like he was following, as always.
After he had met with Dumbledore that night – Severus would make a very conscious effort to distance himself from Aurora as much as possible, with hope that she could ever forget his existence; with hope she could go on to live a life he could henceforth never imagine for himself.