Hogwarts
Severus Snape, seventeen years old, sat alone in the damp, shadowy corner of his dormitory. He perched on the edge of his bed, though resting was far from what he was doing. His mind churned relentlessly, consumed by a cycle of regret so deep it left him breathless. Words he could never unsay, actions he could never undo — they all replayed endlessly in his thoughts, gnawing at him like an insatiable parasite.
Every night, his dreams offered glimpses of better outcomes — fragments of a life where he hadn't made those mistakes. But morning always shattered the illusion, leaving him face-to-face with the bitter reality of his failures. He didn't want to run from them. He just wanted to make them right. Yet the path to redemption seemed impossibly unclear.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry… I'm so very sorry…" The words slipped from his lips in a whisper, a mantra of desperation. No one was there to hear him, and the silence only amplified the hollow ache in his chest. He exhaled shakily, pulling himself upright. It was time for class, whether he felt ready for it or not.
He rubbed at his arms and brushed off his wrinkled robes, which he'd slept in — or rather, not slept in — the night before. There'd been no point in changing; when sleep evaded him so thoroughly, dressing for the next day felt trivial. Everything felt trivial compared to the weight of his regrets.
Severus stepped out of the Slytherin dormitory and made his way through the dungeons, ignoring the murmurs of his housemates heading toward breakfast in the Great Hall. Hunger was nothing compared to the gnawing void inside him. He walked straight to Charms, arriving early for once.
The sight of Lily Evans hit him like a gust of wind. She was there, sitting at her usual spot near the front of the classroom. His chest tightened painfully. Normally, he would have slid into the seat beside her, laughing or chatting as they waited for class to begin. But that was before. Before he'd ruined everything. Now, that seat might as well have been a mile away.
He averted his gaze, his stomach twisting as though she might catch him looking and demand to know why. Without hesitation, he took a seat near the middle of the room, close to the door, as if he might need a quick escape.
As he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a thought struck him like a cruel joke. Lily was early. She never used to arrive early; they had always walked in together, sliding into class just before the bell. Was this what her life looked like without him? Punctual. Focused. Better.
'Ah… I must've been holding her back,' he thought bitterly, folding his hands tightly in his lap. The truth of it stung far more than he expected.
Severus felt the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes, a sensation that threatened to betray the steely front he worked so hard to maintain. He clenched his fists under the desk and forced his thoughts elsewhere, anything to avoid the humiliation of being caught crying. Especially by Lily. Or worse, by someone like Potter or Black, who would gleefully turn his pain into their entertainment.
He steadied his breathing, focusing on the mundane details around him. The flickering light of the torches. The faint, acrid smell of spilled ingredients that lingered in the dungeon air. The steady murmur of students filing into the room. Slowly, his tears receded, though the lump in his throat remained.
The classroom began to fill. Lily hadn't looked his way — not once. Of course, she hadn't. Why would she? Severus stared at his desk, tracing the etched grooves in the wood with his finger, pretending to be preoccupied as Professor Slughorn entered the room with his usual jovial air.
"All right, settle down, settle down!" Slughorn called, clapping his hands as he made his way to the front. "Today, we'll be working on Veritaserum. A challenging brew, but one I'm confident many of you can handle!"
A few students groaned, but most seemed intrigued. Severus barely reacted. Normally, he'd take pride in being the first to perfect the potion, but today, even brewing felt like a distraction. He knew he could do it, but what did it matter?
"Pair up, everyone! Let's get started," Slughorn announced, gesturing to the supplies on the side benches.
Severus froze. Pair work. He hated pair work. More than that, he dreaded who might be left once everyone else paired off. He glanced around, hoping he could secure a partner quickly and avoid any snide remarks from his peers. His gaze accidentally darted toward Lily, but she had already partnered with Mary Macdonald, laughing softly at something Mary said. It was a sound he hadn't heard directed at him in what felt like a lifetime.
"Snivellus!" James Potter's voice broke through the low hum of conversation, and Severus stiffened. He didn't look up, but he could hear the grin in Potter's voice. "You lose your partner? Guess no one wants to brew with the dungeon bat."
The classroom erupted in muted laughter, and Severus's stomach churned. Before he could muster a retort, Slughorn intervened.
"Mr. Potter, that's quite enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Severus, if you don't have a partner, you can work with Mr. Avery."
Avery. Of course. Severus gave a stiff nod, gathering his things and moving to join his fellow Slytherin at the next table. He kept his face blank, refusing to let anyone see how much the moment stung.
Avery barely acknowledged him, muttering something about handling the base ingredients. Severus didn't mind. The less talking, the better. He let his hands work on autopilot, measuring out precise amounts of powdered asphodel and crushed sopophorous beans. The familiar rhythm of brewing brought a faint sense of calm, like slipping into an old habit.
But his thoughts betrayed him, wandering back to Lily. He could still hear her laughter, light and unburdened, like he'd never existed at all. The weight of it pressed down on him, sharp and unrelenting.
"Focus, Snape," he muttered under his breath. But it was no use. The mistakes he'd made weren't content to stay buried, not even for the length of a class. They clawed their way back into his mind, leaving him wondering if he'd ever feel free of them.
Severus stared down at the uneven pieces of valerian root he'd diced instead of minced, the realization striking him like a jolt. A small curse escaped his lips, sharp and bitter. He couldn't afford to make careless mistakes like this. Gathering the ruined pieces, he pushed back from the desk and headed toward the supply closet to retrieve a fresh batch. His movements were quick and precise, his mind focused on correcting his error.
What he didn't notice, as his back was turned, was the hand that darted over his cauldron. In one swift, deliberate motion, someone dropped a handful of random ingredients into the bubbling potion, their actions quick enough to avoid detection.
By the time Severus returned, the tampering was done. He placed the fresh valerian root on the table and began mincing it meticulously, unaware that the potion before him had already been sabotaged. Avery, who had been idly leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow at the cauldron but said nothing, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Severus added the properly minced valerian root to the cauldron and stirred it counterclockwise, as instructed. Immediately, the potion gave a soft hiss, the color shifting from pale silver to an alarming shade of green. Severus froze. That wasn't right. His brows furrowed in confusion as he quickly scanned the recipe.
"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice low but filled with tension as he glared at Avery.
"Me? Nothing," Avery said with a shrug, looking far too pleased with himself.
Severus's eyes darted around the classroom, his instincts screaming that someone had interfered. The laughter at a nearby table was a dead giveaway. Potter and Black were hunched over their own workstation, whispering and snickering, their eyes flickering in his direction every so often.
His jaw tightened. He could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of anger and humiliation. He wanted to call them out, to march over and demand they explain themselves. But he knew how it would go — Potter would deny it, Black would mock him, and Slughorn would laugh it off as harmless fun.
The potion before him began to bubble ominously, thick plumes of smoke rising from its surface. Severus cursed again under his breath, grabbing a vial of antidote base from the shelf to neutralize it before it could explode. The cauldron hissed violently as he poured the base in, the smoke dissipating with a loudpop.
"Mr. Snape," Slughorn's voice cut through the commotion, drawing the attention of the entire class. "What's going on here?"
Severus turned, his heart sinking as he realized all eyes were on him.
"Someone tampered with my potion," he said through clenched teeth, casting a sharp glance at the Gryffindor table.
Slughorn frowned, his gaze sweeping the room. "Now, now, accusations won't solve anything. Let's focus on moving forward, shall we?"
A ripple of stifled laughter echoed from Potter's table, and Severus's hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Start over," Slughorn said kindly but firmly. "There's still time to finish by the end of class."
Severus gave a curt nod, swallowing his frustration. As he dumped the ruined potion and started anew, his mind raced. They thought they could humiliate him and get away with it. Again.
Severus barely managed to re-measure his first ingredient when the shrill ring of the bell cut through the dungeon. Students began bustling around him, sealing their completed potions into labeled vials and handing them to Slughorn. A knot of frustration tightened in his chest. His potion, sabotaged and now abandoned, sat unfinished in his cauldron.
He looked up at Slughorn, hoping for some kind of reprieve or understanding, but the professor merely shrugged, a cheerful smile on his face.
"No worry, my boy. You'll simply finish it in detention tonight," Slughorn said offhandedly, as though he hadn't just added another weight to the pile already crushing Severus. The professor busied himself sorting the completed vials, paying no mind to the stunned silence from his student.
"But sir—" Severus started, his voice edged with desperation.
"Ah, ah! No arguments, Severus," Slughorn interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure you'll have it ready by the end of the evening. A good learning experience, hmm?"
The words stung, not because of their dismissal, but because of how little Slughorn seemed to care about what had just happened. He didn't care that someone had tampered with Severus's work. He didn't care that Severus would spend the evening cleaning up someone else's mess.
Severus bit back his retort, knowing it would do no good. With a resigned sigh, he began packing up his station as the other students filed out of the dungeon.
"Have fun in detention, Snivellus," Potter's voice rang out, mockingly cheerful as he passed by, Black at his side.
Severus kept his head down, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. He heard Black's laughter echo down the corridor as the two disappeared, leaving the dungeon uncomfortably quiet.
Detention. Again. He had a sinking feeling Slughorn's "good learning experience" would be anything but.
As the rest of the class cleared out, Severus grabbed his bag and headed for the door, his thoughts heavy. He barely noticed Lily leaving with Mary Macdonald, her red hair catching the light as she turned the corner. For a moment, he thought he saw her glance back at him, but he quickly dismissed it. Why would she?
The dungeons were cold and dimly lit as he made his way back to the common room, his shoulders slumped under the weight of the day's events. He had detention to face that evening, and beyond that, the ever-present realization that nothing in his life seemed to be getting better.
Walking through the halls felt like treading on burning eggshells. Every step was a trial, each one measured and deliberate, as though the wrong move might crack the fragile shell beneath him. Eyes followed him from every corner, their gazes sharp and predatory, waiting for the smallest mistake. It was as if the entire school thrived on his misery, like leeches eager to latch on and drain him dry until all that remained was a hollow boy, stripped of dignity and worth.
He kept his head down, his black hair falling in a curtain over his face, shielding him from the worst of the stares. Still, he could feel them—those silent judgments, those cruel whispers that trailed in his wake like specters.
"Look at him," someone muttered, their voice low but pointed.
"Bet he's off to cry in the dungeons again," another snickered.
His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to whirl around and yell, scream at them to leave him alone. But he didn't. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him break, not here, not now.
Turning down an empty corridor, Severus allowed himself a small moment to exhale. The relative quiet was a relief, though it did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. He leaned against the cool stone wall, his eyes closing as he tried to steady his breathing.
This couldn't go on. He couldn't keep living like this—trapped in a cycle of ridicule and regret. His thoughts flickered back to the detention waiting for him tonight. Hours spent under Slughorn's indifferent watch, brewing a potion he should have completed during class if not for Potter and Black's interference.
And Lily...
His chest tightened at the memory of her fleeting glance earlier. Had she looked back at him? Or was he imagining it, desperate to cling to any shred of hope that she might still care?
Before Severus could spiral further into his thoughts, a voice shattered the fragile silence around him.
"Snape."
He snapped his head up, startled, to find Avery standing a few feet away. The boy's expression was unreadable, his lean frame draped in casual confidence, but his sharp gray eyes carried a coldness that sent a chill through Severus.
"What do you want?" Severus demanded, his voice harsher than he intended, though a tremor betrayed his unease.
Avery didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head, scrutinizing Severus with a calculating air, as if deciding whether it was even worth speaking to him.
"You make Slytherin look bad," Avery finally said, his tone cold and clipped. "All this attention you draw. The pity. The stares. It's pathetic."
Severus stiffened, the words hitting harder than he cared to admit. His jaw clenched, but before he could muster a response, Avery stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
"So, I suggest," he continued, his lips curling into a smirk, "you take a trip to the Astronomy Tower. And don't bother coming back."
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath Severus's feet. His breath hitched, his chest tightening as the words echoed in his mind.
Take a trip to the Astronomy Tower. Don't come back.
The implications were so stark, so brutal, that they stunned him into silence. He stared at Avery, his mouth slightly open, but no words came.
"You heard me," Avery said with a cruel chuckle, clearly enjoying the stunned expression on Severus's face. "What's the point of dragging this out? No one would notice if you were gone. Least of all her." He gestured vaguely down the hall where Lily had disappeared.
Severus's knees felt weak. The cold stone floor beneath his feet seemed to blur as his heart pounded in his ears.
Would they notice? Would they care? Would she?
The thought gnawed at him, pulling at the frayed edges of his mind. His legs began to move, almost without him realizing it. One step. Then another. He wasn't even sure where he was going—his body seemed to act on its own, propelled by the weight of Avery's words and the turmoil brewing inside him.
You don't have to listen to him,a part of his mind argued, desperate and 's just trying to hurt you. He doesn't mean it.
But another voice, colder and darker, whispered if he's right? What if no one does care? What if it would be easier?
Severus found himself turning down an empty corridor, his legs carrying him closer and closer to the Astronomy Tower. His mind fought against the tide, but the pull was relentless, an almost magnetic force dragging him forward.
He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. "No," he muttered under his breath. "No, this is ridiculous."
But his feet didn't stop. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the stone floor itself were dragging him down.
By the time the winding staircase of the Astronomy Tower loomed into view, Severus realized where he was, and panic clawed at his chest.
"What are you doing?" he whispered harshly to himself, his voice trembling. He grabbed the cold stone wall, as if physically anchoring himself might stop the pull. "Stop it. Stop."
His mind was a battlefield, torn between the desperate need to turn back and the crushing weight of Avery's words, which echoed louder with every passing second.
Take a trip to the Astronomy Tower. Don't come back.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut, his nails scraping against the rough stone. He felt the tears burning at the edges of his vision, threatening to spill over. He couldn't do this. Not like this. Not forthem.
And yet, his legs didn't move to retreat.
One part of his mind couldn't help but think,maybe this is for the was so simple, so perfect. He could escape all of it—the things he had done, the things that had been done to him. No one would bat an eye. No one would even notice.
His mother would finally be free of him, free of the disappointment he'd become. She could live her life in the delusion that his father loved her, without him there to remind her of the truth. After everything, wasn't it what he owed her? For birthing him? For enduring his pathetic tears every time his father's drunken nights turned violent? He should have been stronger. He should have taken it silently, like she did.
The shame twisted in his chest like a knife, each memory sharper than the last. Every slap, every shouted insult, every quiet, empty apology he whispered into the darkness as a child—they all rushed back at once.
You've never been good enough,the darker part of him for her. Not for anyone.
His legs kept moving, one step at a time, up the narrow staircase of the Astronomy Tower. The air grew colder with each step, the draft biting at his skin through his robes. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his chest tight with something he couldn't quite name. Fear? Guilt? Relief?
He didn't want to think about it. Thinking only made the pain sharper, more unbearable.
But what about Lily?
The thought came unbidden, cutting through the haze in his mind. He stopped in his tracks, his hand gripping the cold, worn stone of the staircase.
Lily.
She'd moved on, hadn't she? She had James Potter now, laughing and smiling with him in ways she never had with Severus. But there was still that tiny part of him that clung to hope, that wondered if she'd ever think about him again. Would she even care? Or would she breathe easier knowing he was gone?
His chest heaved as tears threatened to spill. He hated how much he still cared, how much her opinion mattered, even .
The wind howled as he reached the top of the stairs. The open platform of the Astronomy Tower stretched before him, the cold night sky endless and uncaring. Stars blinked faintly overhead, their distant light offering no warmth, no solace.
Severus stepped forward, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the stone balustrade. The ground below seemed impossibly far, yet strangely inviting. He leaned forward slightly, the cold wind stinging his face, pulling at his robes.
His mind waged war against itself. One side screamed at him to climb over, to let go, to end it all and finally escape. The other side whispered of unfinished business, of regret, of a life that still had the faintest spark of possibility, however dim.
This was it. His gift to the ones he owed.
To his mother, for enduring seventeen years of disappointment. For birthing him and carrying the weight of his existence, no matter how much of a burden he had been.
To his father, for tolerating his pathetic, sniveling cries, for putting up with his begging every time the kicks and blows rained down. For staying, even if it was out of cruelty instead of care.
To Lily, for tainting her light with his shadow, for darkening her beautiful life with his ugly face. For every moment of friendship she had offered him, even though he'd never deserved it.
To the Marauders, for seven years of torment. Seven years of fists and taunts and humiliation. For teaching him what he really was.
This was his gift, his thanks to all of them. So why was it sofuckingscary?
His hands gripped the cold stone railing of the Astronomy Tower as his chest heaved. The night air was sharp, cutting into his lungs with each breath, yet he couldn't stop trembling. His knuckles turned white as his fingers tightened their grip, as if trying to ground himself against the pull of his own thoughts.
He'd convinced himself this was right. This was freedom. A clean slate. A way to stop being a burden. And yet...every fiber of his being screamed at him to step back, to stop.
Coward.
The word sliced through his mind like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn't Avery's voice this time. It was his own.
He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently, trying to drown out the chaos in his mind. His legs felt like they were locked in place, trembling and rooted to the spot, unable to move forward or retreat.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he whispered hoarsely, the words barely audible over the wind.
"Kid."
The voice was rough, distant, yet undeniably real. It jolted Severus so hard that his knees nearly buckled beneath him. His head whipped around, his tear-streaked eyes locking onto the ghostly figure hovering near the stone wall.
The Bloody Baron.
His translucent form shimmered faintly in the moonlight, his hollow, sunken eyes fixed squarely on Severus. He looked as imposing as ever, but there was something different about him tonight—a heaviness in his demeanor, an eerie solemnity.
"What do you want?" Severus croaked, his voice breaking as he swiped at his tear-streaked face with his sleeve.
The Baron floated closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though each inch required careful thought. "I could ask you the same thing," the ghost replied, his tone devoid of its usual cold detachment. "What are you doing here, Severus Snape?"
Severus tensed, his grip on the railing tightening again. "It's none of your business," he spat, though the words came out more like a plea than a command.
The Baron tilted his head, studying him with those hollow eyes that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. "You think I don't know what you're about to do?" he asked, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. "I've seen it before. I'vedoneit before."
Severus froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The Baron's gaze darkened, his form shifting slightly, as if weighed down by invisible chains. "You think death is an escape?" he asked, his voice echoing softly against the stone walls. "You think it's freedom? Let me tell you something, boy—it's not. It's a cage. A cold, endless void where regret is all that remains."
Severus swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you mean?" he whispered, the defiance in his voice replaced by fear.
The Baron moved closer, his ghostly face mere inches from Severus's now. "I chose this," he said bitterly, his voice trembling with something Severus couldn't quite place. "I thought I could end my pain. Stop the shame, the guilt. But all I did was chain myself to this castle, to my mistakes. Forever."
Severus shook his head, taking a shaky step back. "I'm not like you," he muttered. "I'm not—"
"You're exactly like me," the Baron interrupted, his voice rising. "Young, desperate, drowning in guilt. Thinking the world would be better off without you." His form flickered, his expression twisting into something anguished. "Do you know what it feels like to spend centuries reliving every mistake? To have no way to fix them, no way to move on? Because that's what awaits you, Severus Snape."
The words hit Severus like a physical blow, his chest tightening as he stumbled back against the railing. "I just want it to stop," he choked out, his voice breaking. "The pain, the shame—it never stops."
The Baron's expression softened, the harshness in his eyes giving way to something almost like pity. "It won't stop if you do this," he said quietly. "You'll only carry it with you. Forever."
Severus's legs buckled, and he sank to the cold stone floor, his head in his hands as sobs wracked his body. The weight of everything—the guilt, the shame, the overwhelming sense of failure—crushed him all at once.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered between sobs. "I don't know how to fix it."
The Baron hovered silently for a moment before lowering himself to Severus's level, his voice gentler now. "You keep going," he said simply. "You take each day, one at a time. You face the pain, the mistakes, and you find a way to make them right. It's not easy, and it's not quick. But it's the only way."
Severus looked up, his tear-filled eyes meeting the ghost's once more. For the first time, the Baron didn't look cold or intimidating. He looked...human.
"Why are you telling me this?" Severus asked, his voice barely audible.
The Baron's expression grew somber, his form flickering faintly. "Because I wish someone had told me."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Slowly, the Baron straightened, his gaze never leaving Severus.
"Go," he said softly. "Leave this place. And don't come back here again. Not like this."
Severus nodded weakly, his body trembling as he pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt unsteady, his mind a storm of emotions, but he managed to take a step forward.
And then another.
As he descended the stairs, the Baron's final words echoed in his mind, lingering like a faint glimmer of hope:
"Life may be pain, but it's also possibility. Don't throw it away."