How Could You?
Hogwarts, 1997 – The Corridor Outside the Headmaster's Office
Minerva had sworn she wouldn't seek him out.
She had promised herself - stay away, do not give him the satisfaction, do not look at him, do not speak his name - but then she saw him.
Severus Snape.
Walking these halls as though he still belonged here.
Her rage rose, hot and sharp, burning through her like wildfire. Before she could stop herself, her wand was in her hand.
"Severus."
He stopped.
Turned.
His face was unreadable, his eyes black and empty.
"Minerva."
Her breath trembled with fury. She took a step forward, her grip tightening around her wand. "You dare." Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady. "You dare walk these halls after what you've done?"
His expression didn't change.
"They are still mine to walk."
Something inside her snapped.
Her wand rose - not to curse him, not yet, but to make it clear that she could.
"You disgust me," she hissed. "You coward. You traitor. How could you?"
Severus said nothing.
Minerva's breath came harsh and uneven. "He trusted you," she whispered. "And I - " She swallowed hard. "I trusted you."
He exhaled, slow and deliberate.
"You shouldn't have."
Her stomach twisted.
She had spent years second-guessing him, warning Albus, protecting Albus. And Albus had sworn - had insisted - that Severus was on their side.
But in the end -
She had been right.
And Albus had been wrong.
Minerva's voice was barely above a whisper. "I hope you rot in that chair."
Severus didn't move.
She turned on her heel, her robes sweeping the floor as she stormed past him, her heart hammering against her ribs.
But she didn't leave.
Not yet.
Instead, she turned sharply - took the staircase in long, angry strides—and pushed open the doors to the Headmaster's office.
Hogwarts, 1997 – The Headmaster's Office
The office felt wrong.
It had always been warm, cluttered with Albus's odd little silver instruments and teetering stacks of books, his voice teasing as he offered her a lemon drop. But now -
Now it was hollow. Cold.
Minerva stood in front of the grand desk, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Behind the desk, in his chair, sat Severus Snape.
He had followed her. Of course he had.
Minerva stared at him, unblinking. "Do you feel powerful?" she asked, voice tight. "Sitting there?"
Severus didn't answer.
She took a slow, measured step forward. "Tell me," she whispered. "Did it feel good? Raising your wand and striking him down?"
Severus's fingers twitched against the desk.
She saw it.
And she hated him for it.
"Say something," she snapped.
His gaze flickered to hers. "What do you want me to say?"
Minerva's breath hitched.
She wanted to hear him beg.
She wanted him to suffer.
She wanted him to hurt. The way she was hurting.
She took another step forward, until she was close enough to see the deep shadows under his eyes, the lines that had carved themselves into his face. "You murdered him," she whispered. "You stood on that tower and you killed him."
Severus exhaled. "Yes."
Her stomach twisted.
That was it? Yes?
Minerva's voice cracked. "How dare you speak so easily of it - "
He cut her off, his voice quiet. "You think I do not suffer for it?"
Minerva froze.
Something in his tone - something raw, something wrecked - made her hesitate.
She swallowed. "You do not deserve to suffer."
A bitter smile curled at his lips.
"I agree."
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.
At last, Severus sighed. "Would you be half as angry if it had been someone else?"
Minerva stilled.
Something cold slithered down her spine.
"What are you talking about?"
Severus's expression didn't change. "You thought no one knew," he murmured. "You and Albus." His gaze flickered, searching her face. "But I did."
Her breath caught.
He knew.
He had always known.
Minerva's lips parted, but no sound came.
Severus let out a slow breath. "He never told me. But I saw it." His fingers drummed against the desk. "And I knew."
She swallowed hard.
"You didn't tell Him."
Severus's face was blank. But his fingers twitched.
"I did not."
Minerva exhaled shakily, barely aware of the way her hands had started to tremble. She pressed them together, willing herself to stay composed.
Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again. "Why?"
Severus stared at the candle on the desk, watching the flame flicker.
At last, he spoke. "Because I was not always a monster."
Minerva's chest ached.
She didn't know what to say.
For the first time since she had stormed in here, she looked at him truly—not as the traitor, not as the enemy.
But as the boy she had once known.
A boy who had spent his whole life trying to prove himself. A boy who had made a terrible mistake. A man who was now -
Alone.
Her hands clenched in her robes.
It would be easier to hate him.
It would be safer to hate him.
But she had lost everything.
And so had he.
Finally, she whispered, "Do you regret it?"
Severus's face was unreadable.
But his fingers twitched.
The answer, she realized, was yes.
Something inside her cracked.
Her hands trembled as she turned, each step away from him feeling heavier. But just before she reached the door, she stopped and turned.
Her voice was shaking, raw.
"You could have saved him."
Severus flinched. Not outwardly - never outwardly - but something inside him twisted.
He wanted to look away, but he didn't. Couldn't.
Her eyes burned into him, sharp as a blade - the same shade of green as Lily's. And Harry's.
It was unbearable.
Minerva saw only a traitor before her. But he saw something far worse.
He saw judgment.
He saw loss.
He saw every choice he had ever made, staring back at him through eyes he had already failed once before.
And this time—this time, there was no redemption.