Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Private Quarters of Professor S. Snape
27th of July, 1993

Once back in the privacy of his chambers, closing the heavy door behind him with a muted thud, Severus allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. The room was bathed in a dim, flickering light from the fireplace, as he made his way to his desk; the polished wood cool beneath his fingertips as he set down his wand with a sigh.

He sank into the chair, his mind racing with both memories and regrets. The image of Crux, of his cousin; terrified and clutching that stuffed back, flashed before his eyes - and he squeezed them shut, trying to push away the haunting image.

His fingers absently traced the edge of a small box that had always sat at the corner of his desk, a habit born of restless contemplation, as thoughts turned to that same boy coming to Hogwarts; a revelation that had shaken the wizard to his very core. His anger towards Lupin and Black had been a deceptive yet truthful veneer that had helped to mask the deeper, more painful feelings that had threatened to overwhelm him at the time.

However, and as the memories of that night continued to play on a relentless loop within his mind; the shattered home, the blood, the terror that had filled those pale-blue eyes, Severus couldn't help but wonder what the Headmaster's angle had been.

Had Dumbledore wanted him to reveal he'd known of Crux's existence?

Or-

"...it came as a surprise to many. Crux is an exceptionally gifted young wizard, and has shown remarkable resilience and potential, despite the hardships he has faced."

Was it possible the Headmaster had expected him to have encountered Crux that fateful night, to have 'finished the boy off' like he had his parents, and had held his tongue upon realising what he had done; forced or not? And, upon learning of Crux's existence through none other than Remus Lupin, had Dumbledore been waiting for Severus to reveal that he had, in fact, saved the boy instead?

The Potions Master pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture born of frustration and weariness. The weight of his responsibilities felt heavier than ever, the layers of deceit and secrecy tightening around him like a noose. He knew he had to protect Crux, but the complexities of his relationship with Dumbledore and the unsure nature of the Headmaster's interest in the boy made every decision fraught with peril.

As he sat there, lost in thought, a faint, almost imperceptible noise reached Severus' ears and he stiffened; senses immediately on high alert. The sound came again, a soft scratching at his door, and with a frown, the wizard rose from his chair, moving silently towards the entrance, his wand held ready.

He opened the door, peering into the dimly lit corridor beyond - and to his surprise, found himself staring into the familiar, amber eyes of Fenrir; Hogwarts' resident werewolf and familiar of one Miss Ren Smith.

Dark eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" Severus hissed, his voice low and wary; knuckles turning white around his wand as his eyes darted up the hall before returning to the beast. "Ren is not here, and I have no time or patience for your antics tonight."

The feral wolf simply stood there, his massive frame almost blocking out the light from the corridor, his expression - if one could call it that - almost... curious? Yet his eyes held an intensity that made Severus uncomfortable, making no move to enter or cause mischief; seemingly content to watch the Potions Master with a kind of silent contemplation that was entirely out of character for the usually bothersome beast.

Severus wand hand twitched, his suspicion towards the werewolf's presence only growing. "If this is some kind of prank, I assure you, I am in no mood..."

But Fenrir still did not move, and nor did he offer any indication that he was there to cause trouble. Instead, he seemed to simply... be there.

Severus stood eerily still, tense and uncertain. Fenrir's presence was unnerving, to say the least. He was used to the beast's pranks and mischief, but tonight, there was something different in his demeanour. Amber eyes held a depth of emotion that Severus had never noticed before, a strange mix of understanding and empathy.

"What do you want?" was repeated. Severus voice, however, was softer this time; tinged with a genuine curiosity that had his wand lowering if by the slightest of fractions.

Fenrir tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. The Potions Master could feel the intensity of the werewolf's stare, as if Fenrir was trying to communicate something beyond the limits of his form, and for a moment, Severus felt a strange connection, a bridge between their two vastly different worlds before-

The boy's heart was but a beating drum within his chest as he darted through the dense undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest, his senses heightened by the heady mix of blood and fear that hung heavy in the air - along with that of the rising of the full moon.

Fenrir knew that he had to keep moving, keep running, lest he be caught - or worse, succumb to the very beast within and lose himself to the darkness that had forever resided within his heart.

Though, as he stumbled and clawed his way through the woods, racing through the shadows and utilising everything he'd learnt growing up in Alba's wilds in order to evade capture, the Collectors were still managing to close the distance between them, and Fenrir suddenly felt a familiar sensation wash over him - a tingling, primal energy that did hint towards an untapped power and boundless freedom.

In his desperation, his very need to evade capture; hearing his pursuers closing in, the boy surrendered to the call, allowing the wolf within to rise to the surface and take control.

Severus could feel the boy's fear, the terror that had coursed through him as he ran.

He could almost hear the pounding roar of Fenrir's racing heart, his frantic gasps for breath.

The vision had been so vivid, so intense, so real, that it felt as though the Potions Master were experiencing it himself.

Fenrir's fear of capture had been palpable; a desperate, all-consuming dread. The boy had known full well what awaited him if he were caught. The Collectors were relentless, their cruelty unmatched, and primal instincts had screamed at him to run faster, to escape - even as his more human mind wrestled with the hopelessness of the situation.

It had been a complete act of desperation, of hope, that he would not be lost amidst the transformation, that had allowed Fenrir to let that primal energy surge through him, powerful and wild; had allowed the wolf within to take control and embrace the untamed force that lurked beneath the surface.

Severus could feel the transformation as if it were happening to him, the pain and the liberation intertwined; one agonising yet freeing sensation that tore at his very soul. He could sense the raw, animalist power coursing through Fenrir; the heightened senses, the primal instincts. Fear... it was still there, but it was different now - less human, more instinctual; for the wolf did not fear capture the way the boy had.

The wolf, he-

He knew only of survival.

Realisation dawned on the Potions Master even as the memory faded, leaving him breathless, disorientated, and utterly speechless. He blinked, trying to process what he had just experienced; the rage he had expected to feel at someone having breached his most secured sanctuary with such ease nowhere to be found.

Steadying himself against the doorframe, overwhelmed by the influx of raw, unfiltered emotions he hadn't been expecting, Severus looked at Fenrir with new eyes; seeing the werewolf not as a beast, but as a fellow soul burdened with suffering and survival.

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire in Severus' chambers. The connection he felt with Fenrir, though tenuous, was undeniable, and he took a much-needed breath - before realising that the doorway to his quarters was hardly the place for such an unexpected encounter.

"Come in, then," he said, his voice almost gentle as he stepped aside, allowing Fenrir entrance. "Before anyone sees you."

The werewolf hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the invitation, before padding silently into the room, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

To Be Continued...