Mount Greylock, Massachusetts. Ilvermorny
Life without magic wasn't hard by any means. Severus had spent countless summers and early years without it, so adjusting to a magic-free existence felt almost second nature. The quiet stillness of non-magical life was familiar and oddly comforting.
What truly gnawed at him, however, was the constant reminder of the magical world surrounding him at Ilvermorny. It was suffocating to be in a place brimming with enchantment while being bound by restrictions, unable to use the very power he had been trained to wield. Every spell he saw casted, every potion brewed, was a reminder of what he could not touch—the one thing he was forbidden to embrace until his core showed no more signs of 'darkening.'
Being put on a magical cleansing regimen was an experience he'd never imagined enduring. The potions were vile, a concoction of bitter herbs and peculiar ingredients designed to purge him of any taint. Each dose left a metallic taste in his mouth and a lingering sense of resentment in his heart.
Severus sat in the courtyard, watching his peers laughing and practicing spells. Their voices filled the air like music, a tantalizing reminder of the freedom he craved. He clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. The weight of their joy felt like a physical burden, pressing down on him.
"Just a little longer," he muttered under his breath, willing himself to remain patient. The promise of release loomed ahead, a distant light in an endless tunnel of shadows. But the waiting was torture, and the ache of being sidelined in a world he belonged to was nearly unbearable.
He wasn't allowed to mirror-call Bellatrix as the healers didn't know how his magic might react. A month had passed since the coma—if you could even call two or three days of unconsciousness that—but he was still bound by the same strict 'No Magic' rules.
With little else to do, Severus threw himself into physical training. The constant overworking had taken its toll on his body, wearing him down rather than building him up. Still, he pushed forward, trying to recover the strength and form he'd fought to achieve all summer. Every muscle screamed in protest, reminding him that his efforts were slowly undoing the progress he had made.
The frustration was suffocating. Each rep, each lap, every stretch felt like a desperate attempt to claw back what he'd lost, but it was never enough.
"Severus, why don't you go into town or maybe just go home?" Chris's voice cut through the steady rhythm of his push-ups. Severus paused mid-motion, chest hovering inches from the ground, and glared at him. Chris sat comfortably on the edge of a rock, casually munching on a Muggle cookie while reviewing a pile of papers.
"What? Why would I leave?" Severus snapped, rising to his feet. His muscles ached from the exertion, but the irritation burned hotter.
Chris raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Severus's tone. "I don't know... maybe because you're wearing yourself thin for no reason? You're not going to get your magic back by torturing yourself. A little break won't kill you."
Severus clenched his fists, the words hitting harder than intended. He knew Chris had a point, but the thought of leaving—of stepping away from the only thing keeping his mind busy—made him uneasy. "I don't need a break," he muttered, brushing the dust from his hands. "And going home isn't an option."
Chris shrugged, taking another bite of the cookie. "Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me when you collapse again."
"I didn't collapse."
"You were close," Chris said, nonchalantly. "Your body's screaming at you, and you're pretending not to hear it."
Severus turned away, unwilling to admit how exhausted he truly was. The idea of slowing down, of stepping back from the endless grind, felt like giving up. If he wasn't pushing forward, what was he doing?
"I'm fine," he said flatly, returning to the push-ups. The pain in his arms felt more bearable than the emptiness he'd feel if he stopped.
"If you wanna train like this, at least do it right." Chris's voice broke through again, his tone casual as he shoved another cookie into his mouth. "You've got a boxing champ as your uncle or something, right? Go train with him instead of out here like you're trying to punish yourself."
Severus glanced over his shoulder, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "And what exactly would that accomplish? Boxing lessons aren't going to help me get my magic back."
Chris rolled his eyes, leaning back lazily on the rock. "You're missing the point. It's not about boxing or magic—it's about not wasting your energy on workouts that are just wrecking you. You can't train if you're burnt out."
Severus scowled, pushing himself up from the ground and wiping sweat from his brow. Before he could respond, a familiar voice echoed from the top of the hill.
"Sev! Severus!"
He looked up just in time to see Nia barreling down the slope, arms flailing wildly as she struggled to keep her balance. She nearly tripped twice, her boots skidding over the loose gravel, but she kept going, waving her hands frantically in the air.
Chris snorted, watching her clumsy descent with mild amusement. "Looks like someone's got news."
Severus frowned, feeling a sudden pang of concern. Nia wasn't the type to run around unless something was urgent. He stepped forward, his exhaustion forgotten for a moment, as she finally stumbled to a stop in front of him, panting heavily.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.
Nia took a moment to catch her breath, hands on her knees as she bent over. "You… God, I need to start running again," she gasped, fanning herself. "Rocky's on the phone for you. Said something about a fight."
Severus froze. A fight? He'd won his last one and had taken a break since then, especially after the truth about his lineage came out. Everyone knew he was a 'Snape' now, and with that came a flood of expectations—expectations he had no interest in living up to. The pressure to follow in his father's footsteps, to prove himself worthy of the name, was suffocating.
But Rocky never called him at school. Ever. They only communicated through letters, brief and to the point. The fact that Rocky had phoned meant something serious was happening.
"What did he say?" Severus asked, his voice low, trying to keep his calm despite the rush of emotions swirling inside him.
Nia straightened up, still a bit out of breath, but her expression was serious. "He just said it's important. Something's going down, and they need you back—fast."
Severus glanced at Chris, who had stopped eating and was now watching with raised eyebrows. A fight? He thought he'd left that world behind, at least for a while. The pressure of being a Snape, the expectation to perform, had driven him to the edge once before. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that again, not now, not while his magic was still being suppressed.
But Rocky wouldn't have called unless it was urgent.
"Did the headmistress say I could go?" Severus asked, already mentally preparing himself for what was coming.
"Yeah. She made it very clear that it would do you good to get away from magic," Nia urged, her face softening.
Severus nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow one last time. He wasn't sure what was waiting for him, but there was no escaping it now.
Los Angeles, California. Creed Estate
Severus stared at the TV, his hands trembling slightly as the sports news droned on.
He had hoped the drama had died down, that people had finally moved on. But they hadn't.
"The boxing world is excited to have another Snape in the ring—"
His view was abruptly cut off as his mother, Mary-Anne Creed, stepped in front of the screen. She crossed her arms, looking down at him with that familiar mix of concern and frustration.
"Why are you watching this stuff?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "It's not gonna do you any good." She reached for the remote, but Severus was quicker, snatching it up and pressing it to his chest protectively.
"I'm still gonna watch it," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I can either watch it here in the living room, or I'll go down to the basement. Either way, I'm still gonna watch it."
Mary-Anne sighed, her shoulders drooping as she placed a plate of cut-up fruit on the coffee table. She sank down next to him, eyes lingering on the TV for a moment before she turned to him. "Sev, you know how this is going to go. You've seen it before. They're always going to drag you into it because of who your father was."
Severus clenched his jaw. "I know. But pretending it's not happening doesn't help either."
Mary-Anne reached over, placing a hand on his knee. "It's not about pretending, love. It's about protecting your peace. You don't owe anyone an explanation, especially not them." She glanced at the screen, where highlights from Tobias's old fights played on a loop. The pressure of legacy weighed heavily between them, unspoken but ever-present.
"I'm not him," Severus muttered under his breath, almost as if trying to convince himself.
"No, you're not," Mary-Anne agreed softly, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. "You're better."
He let out a harsh chuckle, shaking his head. "Ma, no need to joke. I've got one pro fight under my belt, while Dad... he—" Severus paused, his voice faltering. "He was a heavyweight champ."
The words hung in the air like a weight neither of them wanted to acknowledge. His father's legacy wasn't just a shadow; it was a mountain, and Severus felt it pressing down on him every time his name was mentioned in connection to the ring.
Mary-Anne sighed, her fingers tightening ever so slightly on his knee. "Your father's career, his title—it doesn't define you. You're not him, and you don't have to be. One fight, ten fights, no fights—you're still my son, and I'm proud of you."
Severus looked down at the remote in his hand, the TV blaring commentary about the latest buzz in the boxing world. "Proud of what? That I'm trying to outrun something I'll never live up to?"
"You're not running from anything, Severus," she said firmly. "You're finding your own path. And you don't have to live up to anyone but yourself. Your father's journey was his, and yours is yours."
Severus swallowed, his chest tightening. His mother's words were meant to be comforting, but the weight of expectation still lingered, gnawing at him.
The creak of the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Rocky step into the room, his expression serious as always. The air seemed to shift with his presence.
"Mary-Anne," Rocky said, nodding in her direction. "I think you should step out while me and Severus talk to Tommy."
"What? No!" Mary-Anne shot back, standing up immediately. "I'm not leaving my baby's side!"
Severus winced at the word "baby," but he knew his mother's protective instincts well. She wasn't one to back down when it came to him, especially not when Rocky was involved.
Rocky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mary-Anne, this is about the fight. It's... complicated."
"I don't care how complicated it is," she replied, crossing her arms. "Severus doesn't need this right now. He just got back on his feet."
Severus stayed quiet, caught between them. He could feel the tension building, his mother's fierce loyalty clashing with Rocky's businesslike demeanor. He wasn't sure he was ready for whatever news Rocky had brought, but there was no avoiding it now.
"Ma... please, just step out," Severus said softly, his head hanging low. He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes. "Rocky's not gonna let me get into some bum deal. I'll be fine."
Mary-Anne looked at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to argue, to stand her ground, but the weariness in Severus's voice made her hesitate. After a long pause, she sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"You better be," she murmured, her voice filled with both worry and affection. She gave Rocky one last, pointed look before turning to leave the room. "I'll be in the kitchen. Don't make me regret leaving."
As soon as the door closed behind her, Severus let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He glanced up at Rocky, who now stood with his arms crossed, eyes serious.
"What's going on?" Severus asked, trying to steady himself for whatever was coming.
Rocky sighed, stepping forward and sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. "Tommy Holiday is outside. I'm gonna bring him in here, and we're gonna talk business. You sure you wanna do th—"
Severus didn't give him the chance to finish. "I'm a Snape, I don't overthink." His voice was sharp, almost automatic, like he was reciting a line he'd heard a thousand times before.
Rocky let out a chuckle as he stood. "You Snapes overthink, just not so obvious."
Severus watched as Rocky walked over to the door and opened it, revealing the man outside. Tommy Holiday—white, bald, with a salt-and-pepper beard that gave him a hardened, no-nonsense look. His eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on Severus.
The tension in the air thickened as Tommy stepped inside, his heavy boots making a dull thud against the floor. He wasn't particularly tall, but his presence was commanding, his face showing the scars of too many fights and too many grudges.
"Rocky," Tommy greeted, his voice gravelly, almost like a growl. He didn't offer a handshake, just a nod as he sized Severus up.
"Holiday," Rocky replied, his tone cool, trying to match the man's intensity.
Rocky closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed, while Tommy took a seat in the armchair, his eyes never leaving Severus.
"Thanks for taking the time," Tommy began, his voice low and direct. "I'll get right to it."
Severus's eyes flickered briefly toward the hallway leading to the kitchen, wondering if his mother was listening in. He knew she wouldn't stay away for long, especially not with Tommy Holiday in the house. But his attention snapped back as Tommy spoke.
"My guy needs to fight in the next six months," Tommy continued, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "And we've beaten everybody."
Severus blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as the pieces clicked together in his mind. He could almost see where this was going, and it wasn't what he expected.
"You want me to fight Conlan?" Severus asked, his voice laced with both disbelief and challenge.
Tommy's expression remained stony, but his eyes gleamed with intent. "I think it would be a very wise move." His eyes darted briefly to Rocky, then back to Severus. "You've been down in Mexico doing pro fights, eh?"
Severus's heart skipped a beat. His gaze immediately shot toward the hallway, a spike of anxiety shooting through him. If his mother was listening, she would've heard every word, and that was the last thing he wanted. He and Rocky had agreed not to mention those trips to her. After all, they were supposed to be nothing—just quick bouts when he was home after getting expelled from Hogwarts.
"I've got you 12-0 down there," Tommy continued, leaning back in the chair, his voice smug. "And with the Sporino fight, that makes you 13-0."
Severus's skin prickled as he caught the gleam in Tommy's eyes, the man savoring every bit of leverage he had.
"Now, nobody needs to know those fights were in some hole in the wall, do they, eh?" Tommy's voice was smooth, but the underlying threat was crystal clear. He was offering Severus a way to make a name for himself—but only if he played along.
Severus felt his stomach tighten further as he glanced at Rocky, hoping for some kind of reassurance. "You think I'm ready?" he asked quietly.
Rocky let out a long sigh as he came to sit next to him, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sev, this man came here because he knows you're a sure thing. Right? It's a sure victory."
Tommy immediately shook his head, giving Rocky an incredulous look. "That is not true."
But Severus caught the way Rocky subtly nodded, as if silently saying, Yeah, it's true.
Tommy sighed, eyes darting between the two men as he tried to salvage his pitch. "Okay, look," he started, leaning forward, his tone growing more urgent. "This is my guy's last fight, and I wanna make it count." His gaze landed squarely on Severus, his voice firm. "And on that note, we'll need you to change your ring name to Snape. It's a formality."
Severus felt a cold wave wash over him. The Snape name was more than just a legacy—it was a weight, an expectation he had spent years trying to escape while simultaneously trying to live up to.
"And what if I say no?" Severus asked, his voice low, challenging.
Tommy blinked, his demeanor shifting. "Then there's no fight. No name, no fight."
The words hit Severus like a punch. It wasn't about his skills, his training, or his record—it was about the Snape name. The fight wasn't for him. It was for his father's ghost, and that reality burned.
Severus glanced at Rocky again, his mentor's silence confirming what he already knew. He could walk away. But if he did, the chance to prove himself—on his own terms—would vanish along with it.
"Why don't you two take a day to think it over, and we'll see what you say, yeah?" Tommy's tone was casual, but the pressure lingered in the air as he stood up and made his way to the door.
Severus didn't reply, just watched as Tommy left. The moment the door clicked shut, it was like a switch had been flipped. Before he could even take a breath, his mother stormed in, her face a mix of frustration and concern.
"Mexico?" Mary-Anne's voice was sharp, her arms crossing as she stopped in front of him. "You've been sneaking off to fight in Mexico?"
Severus winced, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. He stood, hands stuffed into his pockets as he braced himself. "Ma—"
"Don't you 'Ma' me!" she interrupted, her voice rising. "You said you were done with this—done with trying to prove yourself like your father. Now I find out you've been running off to fight in secret?" Her eyes flashed, the hurt visible beneath her anger.
Rocky, sensing the tension, stood and quietly excused himself from the room, leaving Severus to face his mother alone.
Severus's frustration boiled over, his fists clenching at his sides. "I was expelled with nothing better to do!" he snapped, standing to pace the room. "So I did the one thing that makes me feel... like him!" His voice cracked, and he hated it. He hated how raw and exposed he felt.
His mother took a step closer, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and compassion. "You are not your father, Severus," she said softly, reaching out to him. "You don't have to follow the same path. You can be more."
"I don't want to be more!" he shouted, turning to face her, his chest heaving. "I just want to be enough. Enough for you, enough for him, enough for my fucking self!" His voice broke, and he fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
Mary-Anne stood there for a moment, her heart aching for her son. Then, slowly, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. "You've always been enough," she whispered into his hair, her voice gentle. "You just haven't realized it yet."
He couldn't hold it in anymore. The weight of everything—his father's legacy, the expectations, the fear of never being good enough—it all came crashing down. It hurt to try and be strong when all he really wanted was to let go. So that's what he did.
Severus buried his face in his mother's shoulder and let the tears fall. He clung to her like a lifeline, all the pent-up frustration, anger, and sorrow spilling out in waves.
Mary-Anne held him tightly, her hands gently rubbing his back as she murmured soothing words. "It's okay, baby. Let it out." Her voice was soft, filled with the unconditional love only a mother could give. "You don't have to carry this alone."
For the first time in a long time, Severus allowed himself to be vulnerable. The years of trying to prove himself, to live up to the Snape name, to be more than what people expected—it all came pouring out as he collapsed into his mother's arms.
He was a mess. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, still clinging to her as if letting go would cause him to shatter completely. The tears came harder now, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He buried his face into her arms, the sobs wrenching from his chest, raw and unrestrained.
Mary-Anne knelt beside him, holding him tightly, rocking him gently as he cried. She didn't speak this time—she didn't need to. Her presence, her warmth, was enough.
For so long, Severus had been trying to hold it all together, to be strong, to carry the weight of his father's name. But here, in his mother's embrace, it was okay to fall apart.