Loud

by 1ts_cr0w

Summary:

Y/N is autistic, and started Hogwarts a few years late. They especially struggle with loud noises. Unfortunately, Hogwarts is full of them.

Severus Snape overcomes personal bias, and pride, to see Y/N for who they are. Then, you both push yourselves out of your comfort zones...and into eachother.

Note: I hate JK Rowling and don't support anything she is associated with currently, I myself am Trans (Nonbinary). I only engage with fan works and so should you. Also, this is based on my personal experiences being autistic and may not reflect the experiences of everyone.

Chapter 1: Blooming

 You were a few years older than most students. You often felt embarrassed at this fact, but it wasn't your fault you started school late. You had been a late bloomer, as it were, due in part to your autism and having muggle parents who did not believe the Hogwarts letters were real…until strange things started happening.

 You could recall your first day easily. You, 15, were positively mortified to be standing around with 11 year olds waiting to be sorted. People gave you odd looks. 

 When you entered Snape's classroom for the first time, you felt an immediate shift in energy. The rest of the castle was warm, inviting despite its winding corridors and architecture that dwarfed even Hagrid. The castle felt alive, like the millions of students who had called it home still lived there, not as ghosts but as memories. Laughter seemed to stick to those walls.

 However the potions classroom was alive in a very different way. It felt like the creatures in jars on the shelves were looking at you, scrutinising you. The darkness of the room was lit by candles of green flame that seemed to flicker in linguistic patterns, whispering secrets. The sounds of bubbling cauldrons filled the room, and a thousand different aromas and stenches caught your nose.

 …Yet, despite the sensory cacophony, you were not overwhelmed. Here, you felt the magic of this world most of all.

 You entered the potions room for the first time and you quickly found your seat, the front row. You didn't want to miss a thing. As other first years filled in though, you realised you were taller than all of them. Oh, right. You had nearly forgotten the age gap.

 After sitting in the back row instead, you set up your desk. Your textbook and notebook were placed parallel. Your ink and quill in the top corner-

 Slam!

 You jumped, and your inkwell clattered as you fumbled it…but luckily it didn't fall. You'd been startled by the dramatic entrance of one Professor Snape. He flew through from the back of the room to the front, his steps heavy and quick. His cloak brushed against your arm as he passed you, and you looked up to see a blurry vision of his profile before it instantly became his black velvet hair.

 Snape stopped at the front of the room, eyeing the students with a piercing, frozen gaze. His eye lingered on you a moment, due to you being quite out of place. You saw his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, with judgement, you supposed. He began the lesson.

 Snape had to admit, he was judgemental at first. He thought you'd be…slow. However, he would learn better quite quickly. He observed your behavior in class closely, expecting to hover over your desk and brewing station. Yet, during the lesson, he was surprised.

 You were permitted certain accommodations. You had extra time for assignments, although you soon proved that you did not need this for potions. You were allowed to use stim toys in class, so long as they were quiet ones. Snape observed you fidgeting with an odd little object he overheard you call a ‘Tangle’ to a student who asked about it.

 While fidgeting with the object, you took notes diligently.You seemed focused, interested in the lecture. Snape was impressed, you actually looked to be the only student who was genuinely engaged.

 And you were.

 You copied down the fundamentals of potion making safety as he explained them. To the other students, safety rules were just boring, dull filler until they could try making a potion themselves. You, however, saw the value in it. You saw the structure of rules as important, especially for things like safety.

 Snape's voice, you found, was very easy to listen to. It was a deep and sonorous baritone, and even when he was irritated it had a gripping, almost…enchanting quality to it. In another context you might have been lulled to sleep, but the words he was saying were far too interesting for that. 

 The first potion you brewed was just as surprising to Snape as your studious demeanor was. He hovered over your station for just a few minutes to be certain you weren't about to make the cauldron blow up, but he quickly had to reexamine his biases again. He saw your open textbook and open notes. Your notes were detailed and had a fly-away quality to them, as if your mind had been working faster than your hands.

 You tried to brew while Snape loomed, his presence like a dark cloud over you. You could guess why he was doing it. You minded your own business though, determined to do well. Snape observed the way you held your hands up in dainty poses, your fingers slightly dancing as you looked for whatever you had to grab next. The mortar and pestle was quite enjoyable for you, and you were observed making a bit of a scrunched up face as you ground up herbs. You liked doing it, if you weren't being watched you'd probably make silly growling sounds. There was something you found kind of amusing about pounding and grinding things into dust, why that was, no one could guess. You felt like a cave man or something.

 Eventually Snape realized he was lingering too long, and he was satisfied by your proper technique. He had his doubts still, but at least you weren't going to cause a dangerous mishap.

 At the end of that class, when he inspected each potion, yours was the best. “Hm, well done L/N. Keep up this effort.” Snape nodded, expression stoic.

 That moment of him nodding in approval, of you presenting a successful potion, made something click. The process of brewing was incredibly satisfying to you, and producing something that gained approval from such an intimidating authority figure was very validating. You smiled as you tidied your station.

 From then on, you were a bit obsessed with potions. It was just so fun to learn about, and so fun to brew. You continued to do well, very well in fact. You might have been a late bloomer in magic, but once you began, bloom you did indeed. 

 In subsequent years, you didn't really make many friends. The students who were your age were in different classes so you never really had a chance to talk to them, and the younger ones were not mature enough for you to have anything in common with.

 You had been dreading being behind so many years, because you thought those who were your age would make fun of you. However, soon you discovered that the ones you had to worry about were actually the younger ones. Some in your year took every opportunity to tease you. You supposed that it was due to you giving them a chance to feel power over someone older than them, you were an easy target in general after all.

 There was one boy in particular who picked on you. He had a knack for knowing exactly how to upset you, exploiting your struggles with social cues and sensory issues. One thing he liked to do occasionally was scream in your ear when you were distracted by something else.

 One day in potions class, in your third year when you were 18, he tried it. 

 You were working hard on your potion, it was going well as usual. You poured a slimy liquid into your cauldron, watching how it caused the brew to change colour and become effervescent. Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you stirred the potion.

 Snape was nearby, looking over at you every once in a while, as he found himself doing a little more this year. He saw you in your own world, brewing with that unique grace…your hands always up and dancing as you thought about your next step, the sound of your soft humming.

 The professor's observation of you was interrupted when that boy turned towards you, right by your left ear, and screamed.

 “Aaaaahhh!!” His voice felt like a fist to your ear, your heartbeat jumped up to your eardrum for a moment and hurt you. Your hands shot to your ears as you staggered away a couple steps and whimpered in distress. The boy laughed.

 “Mister Warren.”

 Snape's voice, frighteningly firm yet not shouting, cut through. The boy froze, his laugh dying and face dropping to the floor. “Uh…y-yes sir?” The boy stuttered. He knew he was in trouble.

 “Just what on earth do you think you are doing? Hm?” Snape spoke with a dangerous calmness. He wasn't raising his voice at all. He wanted to make sure he didn't upset you further, so despite his irritation he controlled his volume. “Upsetting a fellow student intentionally by screaming in their ear?”

 The boy fumbled, unable to think of a good excuse. How could he? His actions had been so blatant. You watched, hands still loosely on your ears, as Snape scolded him. You noticed how Professor Snape kept his volume low. You decided that his tone was far scarier this way, though. You would have pitied the boy if it weren't for him tormenting you. With every passing moment, he shrank more and more.

 “You think it's funny to exploit the struggles of your classmate, do you? Then perhaps I will exploit your struggle to be a mature, sensible person and have you scrub cauldrons every evening this week.” Snape doled out his punishment and started to walk away, leaving the boy looking defeated.

 However, the professor was not finished yet.

 You watched him move to the front of the class and snap his fingers. He used to slam a book shut or shout to get the room’s attention, but not anymore. You didn't know why…

 “Quiet.” He waited until every eye was on him and every mouth was shut. “It has come to my attention that some of you find it…amusing…to bully fellow students who have different experiences and needs than you.”

 Eyes flickered towards you and you looked at the floor, a bit embarrassed. You were glad to be defended, but you'd never really get past the attention it placed on you.

 “This is unacceptable. I will not tolerate any bullying in this classroom, are we clear?” Snape said, scanning the room like a bird of prey scanning the ground for small creatures to catch and devour. No one said anything or moved. “I said, am…I…clear?” He seeks a response.

 Everyone murmured a ‘yes’. You did too, even though you were the only one he wasn't addressing.

 Nobody bullied you when he was around. You still got picked on occasionally outside of his class, but at least you weren't tormented quite so aggressively anymore.

  In fifth year (You were 20 by now, and most students had started to look up to you, even sixth and seventh years), Professor Snape started to notice just how bloody interesting you were.

 Once, he was on a walk on a Saturday, enjoying the warm spring air. Making his way down the dirt path, he spotted a figure under a tree. The figure was you, he learned, as he got closer. Snape tilted his head and frowned in confusion when he saw you alone, face up.

 You were just standing there, looking up a tree. Snape approached you, unable to suppress his curiosity. You felt his presence manifest beside you, heavy and solid. He looked up at the branches, trying to figure out what you were looking at. He couldn't see a damn thing worth staring at.

 “What…are you looking at, L/N?” He said in a low, curious voice.

 “Bees.”

 “Bees?”

 “Yes.” You replied, turning and facing him. “They are making a beehive.” A small group of bees had coagulated on a branch, building the first structures of a hive. Their buzzing became the ambient noise to your interaction with Snape.

 Snape could only nod in agreement at your simple statement. He looked you over, observing how your pockets were stuffed with wildflowers and your hair had a leaf tangled in it. He felt an odd clench in his chest that he quickly tried to erase from his memory. “Surely you have something more interesting to do than…watch bees.”

 “Well, actually I was out here to pick flowers.” You explained, swaying on your feet. “I noticed the bees when I saw the violet patch under this tree.”

 Snape felt that awkward clench in his chest again as he saw you away from side to side. He often saw you do that…swaying rhythmically. It was almost hypnotic. “Ah, yes…flower picking.” He nodded, trying to squash whatever that odd feeling was. “What will you do with them?”

 “I want to press them and keep them.” You replied, still swaying.

 “You like to press flowers? What for?” Snape asked. For some reason, he couldn't quell his curiosity. He usually wouldn't converse with a student this way but…every question you answered only summoned more. He tilted his head, looking down and you with his hands clasped behind his back, listening.

 “Just to have. Sometimes I use them in crafts…but I like to keep the flowers I find so I have a collection of my local flowers.” You explained.

 “Like a…catalog of local flora? Do you keep them anywhere?” Snape asked. You took a violet out of your pocket, fidgeting with it in your fingers. He found himself fixating on the repetitive movements of your hands, the way the stem and petals of the flower slid across your skin.

 “I stick them on cardstock with clear tape, label them, and put them in a box.”

 “I see…interesting.” Snape nodded. The thought of you archiving flora, labelling them and storing them, was very charming. His eyes again darted to the leaf in your hair. “You have a…”

 Snape reached out and gently took the leaf from your hair. He didn't even think about it, his hand moved on its own. His graceful fingers pulled the leaf from your hair, barely brushing against the strands. You moved your head away slightly, not a fan of being touched without permission, although your reaction was less strong than it would usually be.

 Snape noticed your movement, which sobered him and he realized it was the wrong thing to do. “I apologize, that was disrespectful.”

 “It's…alright.” You looked away for a moment, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You then changed the subject with suddenness, returning to the earlier topic of watching bees. “Did you know that there is a species of bee that kills invading wasps by swarming it and buzzing so fast it cooks the wasp alive?”

 Snape stared at you for a second, processing the subject change and your fact. His mouth very nearly twitched up at the corners but he managed to stop it. “...I did not know that.”

 “I have to go inside now.” You said, and abruptly left the conversation. You walk away, towards the castle.

 Snape was left to watch you and recall the conversation you had, however brief, while the sound of bees was all there was to hear. You were not merely a great potion student, nor were you merely odd. You had a love for nature and engaged with your interests in such an interesting, personal way. He admired your quirks, and he found that building a more complete concept of you in his mind was…rather delightful.

 Meanwhile, you were happy he had listened and asked questions about your interest in flowers. People didn't often engage with you like that. You smiled to yourself, feeling like he actually cared about what you had to say. Even him touching your hair to remove the leaf was… kind of nice. However, you rationalised that last detail by the fact that you've always liked your hair being touched or played with anyway, so your aversion to touch must have simply been aggravated less from it.

 After that day, you and Snape often found yourselves talking outside of class whenever you encountered one another. You'd do or say something that interested him and he'd ask about it, or you would go up to him to deliver a random fact. He came to recognize that you had a working knowledge about…perhaps everything.

 You told him about crows, about foraging for edible fungi, about art history. He got snippets from you about so many subjects, he could fill a roll of parchment with all of your Did-you-know’s. He took in everything you said, and started to find himself looking forward to more...

Chapter 2: Blossomed

 A day came in your sixth year, when you were 21, when Professor Snape was in a particularly bad mood. This happened occasionally and there was no telling why. On this day, the students were more difficult for him to deal with than usual. 

 “You idiot! You can't stir the potion until after the initial bubbling has subsided from adding the powder, you will burn yourself. I will not repeat myself again. Five points from Gryffindor.” He growled at one student. He then turned and immediately barked at another. “Clean up your bloody station immediately, you're scattering things about like a Cornish pixie for God's sake! Five points from Hufflepuff."

 You were minding your own business as the chaos moved around you. You had on earmuffs on loan from Professor Sprout, the ones they use to protect ears from mandrake cries. With the aid of the ear muffs, you could work peacefully even while a grouchy, testy Snape verbally beat down student after student.

 However, eventually, you started to get bothered. The constant confrontation was getting to you, especially when a student got chewed out for an honest mistake when they just needed help. You saw the girl next to you struggling with her mortar and pestle, trying to grind some herbs by pressing and moving the pestle back and forth. Snape was on his way, and with his mood, he'd certainly scold her rather than show her the right technique.

 “...Hey, Nora?” You addressed the girl. “You seem to be struggling with that, can I give you a tip?” 

 Nora nodded, sighing with exasperation. “Yes, please…I'm lost. These herbs just won't break down.”

 “Yeah, it can be tricky. Here…see how I do it? You have to use a circular motion to grind them properly. If you press them, they just flatten. You need to add movement for the friction that will break it down properly.” You explained, demonstrating with your own mortar and pestle. She took in your advice, nodding.

 “Thanks, Y/N…” Nora took your advice and mimicked you, finding success.

 Snape saw the exchange and sighed, honestly rather relieved that you took over. Yet he also felt a little perturbed by you basically teaching better than him. He knew he had a harsh approach, especially on days like this where he had a sour mood…yet his pride refused to let up.

 While you resumed brewing, another student came to you. “Can you…help me figure out where I went wrong with my potion? It's green.” He asked.

 “Oh, sure.” You nodded. You looked at his potion. It was indeed green. It should have been blue. You could tell the problem quickly. “You added too much wormwood. Here, let me show you how to fix that…you have to add an opposite ingredient to counter it. But it has to be the exact right quantity to not affect the potion negatively. How much wormwood did you add?”

 You helped the boy, adding in some of a counter ingredient. Snape was impressed, that was a rather advanced technique. That being said, you'd grown exponentially in skill throughout your tenure at Hogwarts. When it came to potions and herbology, you probably could have skipped to seventh year last year already. Yet, you couldn't with your other classes.

 Snape appeared near you, looking over your shoulder at your potion. Part of him wanted to follow his usual instincts and chide you for helping other students. “L/N.” He said.

 “Yes, sir?” You looked up at him with an inquisitive expression. He felt his heart jump and blinked a few times to clear it out.

 “You were assisting other students. Why?”

 You were confused. Why not? Wasn't that the right thing to do? “Well, because…they needed help? And I knew how to help.”

 You absolutely should not help other students, L/N. I am the professor, not you, understood? Focus on your own work. That is what Snape wanted to say. It is not what he said.

 “Very…altruistic of you. Don't let your own work suffer, though, alright?” He spoke to you in a softer tone than he had used all day. You understood. You diligently stirred your potion. Snape gave you an approving nod as he saw that your potion was high quality, as he had come to expect from you. “Good work as always.”

 As he walked away, you swore you heard someone mumble “Teacher's pet” under their breath, but when you looked up you saw Snape silence them with a frosty glare. You're going soft, Severus.

 From them on, Snape could depend on you to help other students on his bad days. Not only that…but he took note of your gentler, more understanding approach and slowly but surely tried to mimic it. It didn't come naturally to him though, as was evident in the very next day.

 A Ravenclaw boy struggled to crack a nut. His knife kept slipping, because he was unable to put enough force behind it. It was potentially dangerous for the knife to slip like that. “Mister Clay, you moro-” Snape cut himself off, much to the boy's surprise, and yours. You were at the very next station.

 Snape had the boy stop and paused before speaking, trying to be a bit…less harsh. “...You struggle putting enough force behind the knife.” He stated. It was more to remind himself that the student was not being negligent or lazy, he simply lacked the ability to crush the nuts the regular way. The boy nodded.

 “Yes…I'm too weak.” The boy pouted. Snape actually found…he could relate to him. He'd been rather scrawny as a younger teenager. He nodded in understanding.

 “Put it in your mortar and pestle and use your body weight behind the pestle to crush it.” Snape said flatly before moving on to the next person. It was delivered with a rigid tone, but it was better than insults. Way better.

 After class, you wanted to express that you were glad to see him being nicer and more understanding. However…you were a little too socially anxious. How do I even approach him? Will he find it condescending? You fidgeted as you stood by your station post cleaning up.

 Snape did paperwork at his desk, glancing at you as you fidgeted. You were looking around, avoiding his eyes and clenching and unclenching your hands as the rustling papers and ink scribbles were the only sounds heard. He wanted to just say “Spit it out, already.”

 Just as he was about to say something, you finally walked past his desk. He watched you go, a phantom smile leaving its trace on his face. Then he noticed something on his desk that you had left there on your way…a pressed daisy on black paper, stuck on with clear tape and labelled with white ink. He stared at it for a long time.

 Snape picked up the pressed flower and looked at it, feeling the paper and the smooth tape that was raised ever so slightly above the preserved flower. You'd given him this, a piece of your collection. Why would they give me this? Snape puzzled over it for a while. He felt his heart rate pick up, a warm fuzzy feeling making its home behind his sternum.

 The flower feels like a token of appreciation. He'd seem you watch him interact with that student earlier, and he quickly put two and two together. Is this for me being…nicer? Alone in the room, he permitted himself to smile, his expression softened as he stared at the daisy. He tucked it into a secure pocket to keep safely in his quarters later.

 While Snape tried to push himself out of his comfort zone, so did you. The next day was a Quidditch game. You had avoided them, getting permission to hang out in the common room during them because you were afraid the noise and excitement would be too overwhelming for you. Today was the day you gave it a try.

 You managed to get through the crowd without too much contact. You found a place to sit near the front but not quite in the front rows. Everyone was buzzing with excitement, ready to watch a good game. It was sure to be heated, Slytherin vs Gryffindor.

 “I'm going for Gryffindor, you?” A Hufflepuff asked a Ravenclaw, who scoffed and replied that obviously they were also going for Gryffindor. You never connected with the house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Perhaps because you never connected with Slytherin, your house. Regardless of your neutrality, the game was going to be intense.

 As soon as the game began, it was loud. The sounds of broomsticks zipping around, balls flying and being hit. The announcer yelling, the crowd cheering. That, combined with the busy sight of players zooming by and balls getting a bit too close for comfort…

 You felt yourself get uncomfortable very quickly. Suddenly everyone felt too close, and you were sweating. Just try to handle it…try to have fun. You fidgeted with the hem of your robe and smiled when anyone scored, regardless of what team they were on.

 In the nearby staff stand, Snape looked over and saw you cheer when Slytherin scored. You were clapping lightly and calling out. He lost focus on the game, his attention fully on you. He couldn't help it, especially when he saw you cheer for Gryffindor too. Ordinarily, seeing a student in his House cheering for Gryffindor would earn an irritated stare, a narrowing of his onyx eyes.

 Seeing you cheer for both teams, Snape accidentally let out a chuckle and smiled, which McGonagall next to him caught and she exchanged a knowing glance with Dumbledore. Snape didn't notice though, watching you. They are just…so…

 As you occupied Snape's focus, you were slowly losing enthusiasm. The chaos of the sights and sounds were getting to be too much. Plus, the person next to you was too close, their thigh and knee kept brushing against yours. Your ears started to hurt and the bright sun prevented you from looking at the game. You stopped cheering, instead using your hands to shield your eyes from the sun and trying to just focus on anything besides the noise.

 Snape noticed how deflated you seemed now, how irritated. Concern wormed its way into his mind. He leaned forward a bit as an attempt to see you better, although in a separate stand it did next to nothing.

 Over the next ten minutes your condition grew worse. Everything was blurring together into a mass of painful noise and sensation, you were too warm and everything was too loud. The person next to you moved their leg, which made their knee touch yours.

 Stop touching me! Stop! You snapped at them, but only in your mind. The sound that came out was a whimper. You felt pathetic. You could no longer keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut as you covered your ears. At every angle, everything was closing in on you. Heavy, cacophonous. Your breathing grew faster, your head began to ache. You wanted to run out of there, to just leave and go somewhere quiet. You could if you would just get up, if you could make your legs move. I have to go, I have to go, I have to-

 “Y/N.”

 A familiar voice cut through the din, baritone and with an unmistakable texture. You managed to open your eyes and look up at Snape. He had made his way down from the staff stand and up to yours, having seen your descent. He stood in front of you, blocking out the sun.

 “Come with me.”

 You followed him down the aisle silently. As you descended the stairs behind Snape, the noise gradually subsided. However, your sensory overload remained. As you were led away from the Quidditch pitch and all the way back to the castle, you were quiet.

 Snape opened the door for you. You leaned against the wall, trying to recover, but it was hard. It had taken everything in you not to cry…but now, you felt the brine roll down your cheeks. It stung the membranes of your eyelids.

 “You…became overstimulated, yes?” Snape asked, speaking softly. You nodded, unable to speak. “You're experiencing a verbal shutdown.” Snape stated, you nodded again. He knows that term? As if answering your thoughts, Snape explains “The…headmaster had me learn about autism your first year, as I'm your head of house.”

 This was a lie. He'd actually done research on it just two years prior after he started wanting to understand you more. No way he was telling you that, though.

 You hugged yourself to try and calm down, your breathing still laboured. The pressure in your head was high, and you kept closing your eyes. Snape tried to think of a way to help. They look so upset…think, Severus, you bumbling git…

 “Do you…” Snape debates with himself, wondering if his idea is too out there. He had read that deep pressure can help. Although, the way he'd have to give it to you was…intimate. Get over yourself, idiot, the worst they can do is shake their head at you. “Would deep pressure help?”

 You gave him a nod of confirmation. Yes, that would help.

 “A…hug?”

 Oh. You realized what he was offering and blushed a bit. After a brief internal deliberation, you nodded one last time to give him permission. Is he really going to…hug me?

 The answer was yes. Professor Snape moved forward and opened his arms, waiting for you to step forward before he wrapped them around you. His arms were strong and his cloak enveloped you, he held you tightly against him. The side of your face pressed against his chest, and the rest of the front of you pressed against his stomach. He was bigger than you, broad. It made the embrace so much more comforting.

 Your eyes fluttered shut as he held you close. It was tight, his hands on your back pressing you to him, trying to provide that comforting deep pressure you needed. He, too, felt comforted and warm. It was a moment of connection that woke up feelings that had been budding, about to blossom.

 The remnants of your previous overstimulation disappeared, the discord of the previous sensory overload forgotten…but a new noise replaced it. One that did not bother you, but still made your pulse quicken.

 It was Professor Snape's heartbeat. It was pounding, a thunderous beat against your cheek. It simultaneously calmed you and made butterflies dance in your stomach.

 “Loud…” You said softly, getting your voice back.

 “What's loud, Y/N?” Snape said just as softly, a note of concern in his voice. His hand moved up and stroked your hair.

 “Your heart…it's very loud.” You didn't want him to think it was upsetting you, so you add, “It's calming.”

 Snape's arms tightened around you slightly as he allowed himself to rest his cheek on your hair, turning his head so that his chin wouldn't dig into your skull. He nearly sighed as he felt the solidity yet delicate softness of you in his arms. Between holding you, and your words, and all that you were…

 Merlin, they are going to kill me.

Notes:

This is a two shot for now, but if people like it I may add more. :)

Chapter 3: Pruning

 Once the hug broke, you stepped back. You heard the sound of your sleeves running over his as your arms came untangled. You felt much better now, thanks to the pressure of his embrace. You felt oddly cold, though. My heart is loud too… “Thank you, sir…I'm sorry I'm making you miss the game.” You avoided direct eye contact, rocking on your heels.

 “It's no trouble. I am not missing anything more important than…” Snape began, then trailed off. He continued his thought after a brief pause. “...My duties as head of house.”

“Alright. I'm going to go to the common room.” You twiddled your fingers together and then, with some effort as you felt awkward, thanked him. “Thank you for helping me.”

 Snape nodded shortly, attempting to regain his stoicism. “It was…my responsibility to make sure you were alright. No need to thank me.” He looked away and cleared his throat. He willed his heart to forget the feeling of holding you, at least for the time being.

 “Thanks anyway…” You said softly. Snape glanced down at you, nodded, then walked away. You felt very alone all of a sudden, but you had no issue going to the common room alone. You watched Professor Snape walk away. His cloak billowed behind him like a pair of black wings, as if he were a raven taking flight.

 Snape disappeared around a corner, his dark form so opaque that it looked almost unreal when he turned that corner, like he had stepped out of reality. You didn't like the feeling of being alone in such a big hallway, so you quickly turned away and walked to the Slytherin common room. 

 Your footsteps echoed on the smooth, hard floor. You replayed the events that had just taken place over and over. Snape had made his way all the way down one stand and up another to get to you, you realised he must have been watching you and paid close enough attention to see your distress. He had gone out of his way to help you get out of the situation, even soothing you by hugging you tight…

 You found yourself plagued by the pounding of your heart as you walked. This is like ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’, except I'm not a murderer, and my secret is that I…

 …That you what, have feelings for Snape? Did you?

 As you finally arrived at the common room and took a seat on a rather cold leather sofa, you considered the idea. Professor Snape was quite brilliant, and he always seemed to be looking out for you…he was very handsome too, and his voice was so attractive. Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice that often crept into your head, the voice that had held you back from connections before, although usually platonic ones.

 You're too weird, stupid, and annoying to even think about having a crush on someone.

 That is what you thought. You felt a sharp metaphorical sting in your chest, like a sewing needle had gone through your heart. You acted nonchalant and got up from the couch. You entered your dormitory, slumped onto your bed and sighed.

 When you thought about it logically, you knew your insecurities lacked solid ground. You were weird, but some would call it charming. You weren't stupid, you just struggled to process things sometimes. Sure, perhaps some found you annoying, but surely there were also many who didn't. 

 Rationality doesn't always work on such negative thoughts though. They whisper in your ear like a spirit, and can continue to haunt you regardless of the prayers you say or the exorcisms you perform. You battled with the notion that you don't deserve nice feelings like love quite often.

 You picked up a book and opened it, but you couldn't focus. That thought was still gnawing on your brain. What was worse was that you were fuelling it, repeating it. You believed it. Sometimes it almost felt like the initial pinprick was not a spectre placing the intrusive thought in your head, but you pushing it in yourself.

 What stopped your spiral was the memory of Snape holding you. Whatever happened next, at least you got to have that.

 The next day, you entered the potion classroom with conflicting feelings. When you walked by Snape's desk, you felt your stomach flutter. He gave you a short hello, which you returned with a half smile.

 You sat in the front row, which has been your preferred seat since you stopped being taller than all of your peers a couple years previously. You set up your desk, placing everything meticulously like always. The lecture soon started and you were lost in the sounds of Snape's resonant voice.

 “Today we will be brewing…Draught of Living Death.” Snape said as he made his way across the front of the room, pacing back and forth in a slow rhythm that had become like clockwork to you. The sound of his footsteps was a metronome to the lecture, keeping it in time in a sense. “Can anyone tell me what effect this potion produces in the imbiber?”

 Your hand shot up. Someone else was called on, however. “It's a potion that kills you if you drink it?” The girl guessed.

 “Incorrect. You would do well to read your textbook. Five points from Ravenclaw." Snape said with a dry tone. You stretched your hand up further and felt your arm muscles pull tighter. “...Yes, L/N?”

 “Draught of Living Death is an extremely powerful sleeping potion that causes the drinker to seem dead, but they aren't actually dead unless the potion was incorrectly brewed. If too high of a dose is given, the drinker could sleep indefinitely.” You answered with eagerness.

 “Exactly right, detailed answer.” Snape nodded. He never gave out points for anything. It bothered you, as a rule follower. Every other professor gave points for correct answers, so why not him?

 You looked up at him expectantly, but he moved on. You huffed a sigh of disappointment, a bit too loudly perhaps. Snape paused, hearing you. He looked down his nose at you and one of his eyebrows arched upwards. You thought you were about to be scolded for attitude but he continued his pacing, and the lesson, instead.

 After class, you gathered your things. You took your inkwell and quill and put it away, along with your textbook. You slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way to the exit of the classroom. Snape stepped in front of you, looking down at you with his hands clasped behind his back. He had that raised brow again.

 “L/N. Stay a moment, I wish to discuss something with you.” He said. He stepped to the side and went to his desk, gesturing for you to approach it. You did so, placing your fingers on his desk and tapping them briefly before removing them, not wanting to be irritating.

 “What is it, sir?” You asked.

 “I noticed you seemed frustrated earlier, when you answered that question. Is there any particular reason why?” Snape asked in return, tilting his head.

 You waffled for a moment in your head about whether or not to be honest. Should I tell him? Will he take it as disrespect? “...Well…” You hesitated.

 “Go on.”

 “I think it's…unfair that you never give any points to us when we get a correct answer or brew a good potion.” You admitted, and inhaled a breath that you held until he replied.

 Snape threaded his fingers together and leaned slightly forward. He spoke in that somewhat gentler tone he always used with you, although it still held an air of authority. “And what makes you believe you have a say in how I run my classroom?”

 “Well…it's just that…” You looked down at the floor, trying to knit your thoughts into a response. “With the way things are organised here, a precedent is set that if you do well, you get points as a reward for your house. Every other professor follows that except you. You don't follow the rules.”

 Snape tilted his head and hummed in thought. “You're upset because…I don't follow the rules.” He repeated, then continued. “Did you think for a moment that, perhaps, I have a good reason for this?”

 You had figured he did. Saying you have a reason was not the same as giving one. “I would assume so, what is it?”

 “My reasons are my own-”

 That sort of answer did not work for you. You were hasty, and interrupted him. “That's not fair, you can't just say you have a reason and not give it!”

 You recognised your error in cutting Snape off as you did it and folded your hands tightly together in front of you, and looked anywhere but at him. Snape, however, merely raised his eyebrows at you. He almost wanted to smirk at your outburst, finding it very…

 Not cute, Severus, focus. Snape hardened up his gaze, he steepled his fingers and propped his elbows up on his desk. “Very well. Sit.” Snape was prepared to explain. You pulled up a chair, which dragged against the floor with a texture of sound that made you almost wince. You sat. “I will explain to you why I don't give points, if it will sate you.”

 You sat quietly, rocking side to side a little. Snape gathered his thoughts and arranged them into a suitable explanation, which took several seconds of him just staring at you. Finally, he spoke.

 “The House cup is detrimental to learning, I have discovered over the years.” Snape began. You tilted your head, curious as to where this explanation was headed. “Education is not about winning or losing, it is about taking in the knowledge given and applying it to the very best of your ability. The points system causes students to be divided, even among their own house. Those who earn points are usually more popular, yet sometimes also are treated as bothersome teacher's pets. Those who lose points are socially punished.”

 You saw the sense in this. You did not point out how often he himself caused that division and contributed to it with his favoritism towards Slytherin and against Gryffindor. However, he did only take points, never giving any even to his own house. Snape continued. “Students who get points will only do what is necessary to get them, and students who don't get points will stop trying. You become reliant on them for validation, rather than on your own academic achievement. These are the reasons I don't give points.”

 After a brief pause where you processed what he said, your eyes widened in realisation. “Oh, I was doing the same thing…wasn't I?”

 You saw a subtle up turning of the corners of Snape's mouth as he smirked, seeing that you figured it out. “Yes, you were.”

 “I used to just like being told ‘good job', but I got frustrated today and felt invalidated by not getting points…” You crossed your arms, frowning at yourself. You tended to hold yourself above petty things like that, or at least tried to.

 “You don't need an artificial number to go up to feel accomplished in my class. You are my best student.” Snape said. He then gestured for you to leave.

 You felt your heart do a little jig in your chest and smiled. Best? “Thank you, sir.” You left the classroom with your head held high.

 Snape had trusted you enough to give you an explanation you doubted he had offered to anyone else. That meant he thought you were worth telling it to. Plus, he had said you were the best in his class, as he must have believed you were clever enough to understand his thought process.

 Even if you were weird, perhaps annoying at times, at least you probably weren't stupid according to Professor Snape. That mattered to you.

Notes:

This chapter is shorter than I'd like but I hope it tides you over until the next one :)

Chapter 4: Planting Seeds

After your conversation with Snape, you felt closer to him. There was still a distinct line dividing you as professor and student, but you saw the potential for friendship. You had to continuously monitor your thoughts so as not to add ‘maybe more' to that.

 Snape was feeling it too. He saw something in you. He thought it was potential, potential to be a great potioneer. He was correct in this, but that was not the full extent of his feelings towards you. There were roses in his heart for you that he did not allow himself to stop and smell.

 Focusing on the potential you had, your prowess when it came to potion making, he asked you to stay after class one day. “L/N, stay for a moment please.” He spoke up as you were on your way out.

 You approached his desk and held the shoulder strap of your bag. “Yes, sir?”

 “I have something I would like to ask you.”

 You felt your stomach flip as your over-active mind started running through all the things you secretly wished he would ask you. “Okay, what is it?” You sat in a chair Snape had already positioned next to his desk. He turned in his seat, which rotated to accommodate the motion. He seemed to look you over in appraisal, which made you nervous.

 “You have spare time after classes and on the weekends.” He stated the obvious as context for his suggestion. “Would you be willing to part with some of that time to…assist me in various tasks? Grading, brewing example potions, fetching things, and other such tasks.”

 It was a surprising offer, yet one you answered with no hesitation. The loss of free time meant nothing to you. “I would like that very much.” You said, trying not to smile too wide. You hoped you didn't look too eager.

 Snape, too, fought a smile. He was better at it than you. “Good. You will start tomorrow. Come to the classroom after you have finished your classes for the day.”

 “Yes, sir. Thank you.” You were pretty sure you were grinning like an idiot. “I'll do my best to learn from you and help you however I can.” You pulled and adjusted the bag strap across your chest. You lost the fight against your face muscles and smiled broadly.

 Snape felt a tight squeeze around his heart when he saw your bright smile. He swallowed a gulp and retained his control, although his voice came out a bit quieter than usual. “I know you will.”

 He dismissed you, and you left the room with a small hop on your step. He thinks I'm good enough to be his assistant…he wants to work closely with me. You were riding high, feeling validated and excited to start on this new journey.

 The next day after your classes, you raced to the potion classroom. You rushed down the hallway and as you passed McGonagall, you were reminded to slow down. “For heaven's sakes- No running in the hallway!” She said with exasperation.

 “Sorry professor, sorry…!” You slowed down from a jog to a fast walk. As you did so, you twisted your ankle, it wasn't too bad but you winced.

 You entered the potion classroom, a lift in your stride as you nursed your ankle. Snape noticed this as he looked up from the papers he was grading and his brow furrowed. “Do you have a pebble in your shoe?” He asked, sitting up straighter.

 “No, sir, I twisted my ankle on the way here.” You answered, stopping in front of his desk.

 Snape observed the way you were still catching your breath. “...Running in the halls, are we?” A shrewd smirk danced along his features. You did not answer. You looked sheepish. Snape sighed and took half the papers he had been grading, setting them in front of you along with a spare quill and ink. “You'll start by helping me grade these second year essays. I trust you will not hold back for the sake of kindness?”

 “I'll be tough but fair.” You answered truthfully. You took the first essay and started marking it. It was fairly easy work, though tedious. It didn't take long before you got into a groove.

 The room was silent except for the sounds of your quills scratching and gliding across the parchment. The dim candlelight made the room feel warm and cozy, despite the chill of the dungeons. The many scents that had caught your nose the very first time you entered here had melted together over the years. Now all you could smell was a mossy, herbal scent, uniform and singular in its specificity to the room.

 Soon, the monotony of grading elicited idle humming from you. It was distracting to Snape. Not through the lens of annoyance, but rather through one of…fondness, perhaps. “Please try to remain silent.” He asked. The sound had been more pleasant than he believed it had a right to be.

 You stopped humming. You hadn't even realised you were doing it until he pointed it out. You continued to grade, remaining silent as requested. It was impossible not to get restless though and your free hand started tapping on the desk. This created another distracting noise.

 Snape tried to ignore it, knowing that you could sometimes get restless when sitting still for too long. He could not prevent himself from looking at your hand every few seconds as your nails repeatedly made contact with the wood beneath them. He sighed with frustration as your incessant tapping prevented him from focusing on his task.

 You were temporarily lifted out of your flow state when you felt a smooth object press into your palm. Your eyes flicked up to see Snape looking at you, placing the object in your hand. It was a paperweight shaped like a little cauldron. Cute, you thought. “...To keep that noisy hand of yours busy.” Snape said before returning to his work.

 You turned the cauldron over in your hand, and both of you were able to work quietly and without distraction until the essays were all graded. You sighed with relief as you pushed your finished stack forward. “Finished…”

 “Good. Now, we can move on to our second task.” Snape got up from his desk. You followed suit, rising from your seat. “We must now clean the measurement vials from today's classes. Take a box to one of the sinks and use the brushes. There are different sized vials, and brushes to match them. Use the correct size brush.”

 You did as he said, taking a box of vials to one sink while he took the other one nearby. You both began scrubbing, and for this task it seemed Snape was less insistent on silence. “You didn't take a double potions this year, despite the fact that you are more than capable of it. Is there a reason?”

 “I didn't want to hyperextend my potion making joints.” You replied.

 Snape paused, squinting at you as if what you said was a little bug he was trying to identify. “Hyperextend your…potion making joints.” He repeated, trying to decipher the meaning of the phrase. He had a decent idea of what you meant, but needed clarification.

 “Yeah. I didn't want to do so much potions that I got burnt out, is what I mean.” You explained. Snape understood, his eyes un-crinkling.

 “A practical decision.” He said with an approving tone.

 You kept sweeping the inside of each vial with a wire brush, watching grime disappear from the crystal. You didn't look up from the task as you spoke again. “Do you think…an autistic person could become a professor?”

 Snape also didn't look up from his work when he replied. “I shouldn't answer that.”

 Your heart sank. It's not like you had settled on teaching as a career yet, but you'd thought about it. It hurt that your favorite teacher lacked faith in your ability to pursue such a path. You wilted, your scrubbing becoming more sluggish…until he spoke again.

 “I shouldn't answer, because any opinion someone could have on that matter should not factor into your decision. Negative, or positive. Don't ask others for permission to take your desired path.” Snape said in a firm, advisory tone.

 You smiled. “Yes, sir.”

 Snape looked over at you, his gaze lingered for a moment before returning to the vial and brush in his hands. You hardly noticed, you were lost in thought. You were thinking about Snape's advice and his thought process. 

 “The way you think reminds me of Stoicism.” You remarked. 

 Snape put down the vial he was cleaning and looked over at you, eyes slightly wide. Did they just reference Hellenic philosophy? Snape stared at you for a moment and felt his heart beat faster. For once, he was caught off guard. “...Is that so?” He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

 “Yes, you seem to focus on what you can control…your actions and reactions, not other people or the things that happen around you. You seem to be a promoter of virtue and resiliency.” You elaborated, drawing connections between Snape and Stoic philosophy.

 Snape couldn't deny that he felt incredibly flattered, not something that happened to him often. Or ever, really. He tilted his head up slightly, feeling prideful. “I am quite partial to Stoicism. I did not expect you to have an interest in philosophy.”

 “I do. I study it a little bit, when I have the time.” You smiled, glad to talk to him about your interests. “I like stoicism too, but it often gets misunderstood. Lots of men think it is about repressing emotions, but that unhealthy attitude goes against its principles.”

 “Quite right.” Snape nodded, impressed by your understanding. Although in truth, he knew he often shut down his emotions. For him though, it wasn't related to his masculinity so much as it was personal, connected to a tumultuous past and isolated adulthood. 

 Silence fell once more as you both focused on your task. You scrubbed vial after vial. You felt encouraged by his earlier advice, and you had noticed how impressed he looked when you spoke about philosophy. I don't usually get to talk about things like that.

 Meanwhile, Snape was finding it difficult to stop his eyes from wandering over to you. Aren't you just full of surprises.

 It was nice to be busy, even with something like cleaning. You took the mindless repetition as an opportunity to think, running through the current ideas that had been on your mind. Your future had the monopoly on your brainpower. Becoming a professor would be very fun, you thought. You already showed a talent for explaining things to your peers, helping them out during class. The trouble was whether a position would be available for you. 

 Your first choice of subject would be potions, but Snape wasn't even close to old enough to be throwing in the towel yet and you wanted to work with him anyway, if you ended up teaching at Hogwarts. Herbology was your second choice, but Sprout still seemed to be going strong. You didn't want to teach anywhere else, but you also couldn't wait around for a job.

 What if I work on that potion book I thought of? I could make money off that while I work some smaller job for a while. I wonder if Professor Snape would take me as a teaching assistant, since I'm already almost doing that. You imagined standing by his side during classes, helping him teach lessons, spending every day working with him…

 Don't be so obsessive and weird. He doesn't need any help anyway. You cut yourself off on that train of thought. Another voice argued with the negative one, but he wanted your help with tasks outside of class, didn't he?

 “Ah-!” You yelped as a vial abruptly popped in your hand and shot shards of glass against the sides of the sink. You realised what happened immediately. The brush you used for that vial was too big…you should have paid attention to how you were forcing it in more than the other ones.

 “Are you alright?” Snape was next to you in what felt like less than a second, his cloak brushed against you.

 “I think so…” You scanned your hands and fingers. Snape took the brush and broken glass from you and dropped them in a trash can. As he did, you saw that you were unharmed. “I'm sorry.”

 Snape reached forward and gently took your hands, examining them. You knew you were fine, but you let him check anyway. “I told you before, use the correct brush. You should have stopped as soon as you noticed that it was not going into the vial smoothly.”

 “Sorry, sir. I was neglectful…” You felt bad for breaking a piece of equipment.

 “Your head was in the clouds, silly little fool…” Snape muttered as he let go of your hands. “Focus, focus.”

 You tried to help remove the rest of the broken glass from the sink, but Snape waved you off and took the pieces himself, discarding them. The both of you resumed your task. Snape heard you repeat him, not just in words but in affectation as well. “Focus, focus.”

Notes:

I hope this Y/N isn't so much of an author insert that it's not enjoyable ;-;

Chapter 5: Watering Sprouts

 You had been thinking lately, and you realised that you didn't really have any close friends at Hogwarts. There were people you helped out in class, and people you got along with, but no one you really…hung out with. It was difficult to connect with those in your year, when you were 21 and they were all 16. The seventh years weren't your age either.

 There was one problem. You had no idea how one goes about making friends. It appeared to you that friendships just happened, that no intention or strategy was involved.

 You were contemplating this in your dormitory while getting your uniform on, and as you sheathed your arms in your sleeves you sighed. It was time to set those thoughts aside and get to class.

 Entering the greenhouses for Herbology always refreshed you, it was bright but not searing, and smelled fresh. The plants that lined the walls were lush and dewy, and you were always early to see Sprout trimming something or filling a watering can. You would greet her, and she'd say something like “Good morning, dear.” She was maternal, yet fun as a professor.

 If making a potion was your flow state, Herbology was your relaxed one. Interacting with nature always provided you time for reflection and allowed your busy mind to breathe. You entered the room, and saw a tray of little pots with little sprouts.

 The students gathered, and Sprout began the lesson. “Today, class, we are going to begin raising Sopophorous plants. You will raise them from sprouts to fully grown, producing bean pods.” She explained the processes necessary to raise the plant, and everyone wrote their own page of instructions for themselves based on what they heard.

 You tried to copy down the things Sprout said word for word, as you thought that preserving the integrity of how someone delivered information was important. As Sprout ceased giving directions, she had everyone select a sprout.

 Most people just grabbed the first sprout they saw. Some tried to grab ones that looked further along, wanting a head start. You saw one that was small, just barely poking out of the soil. It was starting behind…like you did. Feeling a sense of kinship, you took that one. 

 Sprout then added a detail that excited you further. “Once your plant produces beans, we will be using them to supply our potion master's stores.”

 That meant that you, or Snape, could end up using the beans from your plant. I'll give so much love to my plant that its beans are better than any he could buy. You held the small terracotta pot in your hands, smiling down at the tiny plant. You labelled your plant with a strip of tape and put it with the others on a shelf. Yours was by far the shortest when lined up with the others. You thought it was cute.

 After your classes were completed for the day, along with your duties with Snape, you went to the library. The library was always imposing upon first entry, with its looming shelves and wide aisles. It was beautiful too. The dark wood of the tables cradled notebooks for study like no other, and the cozy chairs beckoned you to sink into them and fall into other worlds through the vehicle of a book.

 You did just that. You combed the shelves until you found something interesting, pulled the book down and dropped your weight into the nearest seat. The book you had chosen was about local herbs, plants, and fungi. It was important to you that you could forage for ingredients if needed.

 Looking around the room occasionally, you saw groups of students studying together or trying not to laugh too loudly in the spacious library. Friends talking and collaborating. The camaraderie of peers. You felt jealousy creep up on you.

 There was a group of seventh year students hanging out, sitting around a round table. They looked like fun people, one had dyed hair and another had piercings. They looked cool, and accepting of others. You decided to try and be social. Come on, you can do this. After summoning all the courage you could, you placed your feet on the floor and stood up. You walked to the table where there was an empty seat.

 The group didn't notice you at first. You stood there, listening for an opportunity to join the conversation. They were talking about the worst mistakes they ever made trying a new spell. “One time I used a shrinking spell on my secret stash of sweets, to hide them from my mum, but I couldn't unshrink them so I had to eat them like that. Terribly unsatisfying, might I say.” One boy said.

 You wanted to try and join, but you did not do so very smoothly. You chimed in with your own anecdote…

 “One time, I attempted a wound cleaning potion in second year and I ended up scalding my hand. I had to cool the potion quickly to use it to disinfect the burn it had caused. My skin looked like bubble wrap.” You said. The group went quiet, giving you odd looks.

 Oh. I'm not welcome. I interrupted them.

 You had been…rude. Not to mention your rather gross description of your injury. Six pairs of eyes bore holes through you. You felt your heartrate pick up. You wanted to apologize but no words came. You opened your mouth and a short, unintelligible sound escaped before you turned and left.

 The walk back to your dorm was rough. Your face was on fire and you felt absolutely humiliated, by your own hand no less. Stupid, stupid. You were moving too fast through the halls, you knew it, but you wanted to get to your bed as soon as possible before you embarrassed yourself further by crying.

 I don't know how to make friends, all I know how to do is look foolish.

 A wall suddenly prevented you from moving forward. A dark, tall, solid yet warm wall. You stepped back and looked up at Snape, blinking back the traces of moisture that had formed in your eyes. He smoothed out his cloak and adjusted his sleeves. “Running in the halls again, L/N?”

 “Sorry, I…didn't mean to run into you.” You bit your cheek.

 “I wouldn't think you did.” He stepped around you. He looked busy. “Slow down, yes?”

 “Right.” You kept going.

 Snape paused about a meter down the hallway and turned back. Their eyes looked shinier than usual, and their face was red. I should- Snape gritted his teeth, conflicted. You turned a corner and he sighed. He went on his way.

 Seeing Snape reminded you that you were not stupid. Just awkward. Just socially anxious. This understanding did not fix your problem, however. You strode into your dormitory and kicked off your shoes before climbing into bed. You stared at the ceiling.

 I'll try to make friends again another time.

 You focused your energy instead on your plant in herbology. The little sprout was supposed to be at least a centimeter taller within the week, Sprout said. Yours remained small. “Hm. It seems that you've got a shy one.” Sprout remarked during the weekly check-in on the Sopophorous plants.

 You frowned at the tiny green tendril, staring at it. You whispered to the plant, or to yourself. “I've done everything right. Why won't you grow?” It stood there in its pot like it was mocking you. 

 “Sometimes they just take their time, don't worry.” A voice said beside you. You looked over to see a boy you recognised, Neville Longbottom.

 “Yours is so tall already, the tallest in the class…” You admired the proud sprout in his pot that already had a second branch. “How are you so good at Herbology?”

 Neville shrugged. “I guess I just have a knack for it. You're not bad either though, I'm sure you'll have yours twice as tall as mine in no time.” He smiled. He was always nice, not that you talked much before.

 “Thanks Neville…say, would you ever want to hang out or something? Or just study? I can help you with potions if you want.” You were surprised by how easy that was to ask when you were already talking to him.

 “Yeah, sure…Merlin knows I need the help.” He shook his head, no doubt thinking of his bitter battle with potion making, and all the times Snape had nailed him to the wall about it. 

 You exited the greenhouses that day with a smile. Maybe you could make friends after all. Feeling encouraged by your successful interaction, you hoped to be more social in the Slytherin common room. Upon crossing the threshold into the room, you greeted a girl, Nora, who you had helped with a potion before. “Hi, how are you?”

 She gave you a blank look. “Um…fine?”

 “I'm good too.” You said. Nora gave you a sarcastic expression, a big exaggerated grin and a thumbs up. Oh. She did not care how you were. She walked away and met up with another girl.

 “What a weirdo.” Nora's friend whispered. She laughed and replied just as quietly.

 “Yeah, they think we're friends?”

 You had helped her. Why would she talk about you like that? You felt that awful, sinking feeling again. The one that made you feel like an idiot for ever trying to talk to anyone. You sat on a cold leather sofa, the unmistakable chill of the Slytherin common room only amplified your solitude.

 I don't understand…

 You slumped on that sofa, watching others chat and move about the room. You grew more and more upset. Your brief exchange with Neville was not a consolation at the moment. No one seemed to like you in your own house. Those you interacted with only wanted potion help, dropping you as soon as they grasped whatever it was they were struggling with.

 You opened your notebook, the one you carried with you everywhere. You turned to a blank page and wrote a quick entry;

 I am worth more than what I can give. I am worth connecting with. I deserve to be cared for. 

 You had picked up writing affirmations recently, on the back of your conversations with Professor Snape. He made you want to gain confidence. Yet, despite your efforts to soothe yourself, a lump began to form in your throat. Sure, you were worth befriending perhaps, but your self image did not change the fact that others didn't see that. You could be the most confident person in the world, and people would still take advantage of you or dismiss you.

 It was just like back home. You tried not to cry, but the tears forced their way from your eyes anyway. You simultaneously hoped that no one would notice, and dreaded it. You pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around yourself, lowering your head and hiding as you cried.

 Nobody asked if you were okay. Well, no one until you went back to the library to pick up the book you had abandoned there earlier. 

 You found the seat you had occupied, and were relieved that the group you interrupted was gone. The book was exactly as you left it, haphazardly open and draped over the arm of the chair. You picked up the book and made your way to the checkout desk. It had been a good read, before your time in the library was spoiled. You wanted to learn more about the local flora and how to forage for it.

 You were still sniffling, but by now you had dried your tears and made an attempt to soothe the swell of your lids with a light dab of cold water. Still, your previous upset was evident enough to someone, who entered the library as you exited.

 Neville stopped you in the threshold. “Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You look upset.”

 You were surprised. He noticed? “I'm okay…well, just a little bummed out.” You replied, avoiding eye contact.

 “Do you want some company maybe? I'm not great with encouraging words or anything like that, but…” Neville trailed off, his tone was open and demonstrated a desire to help you feel better. You smiled.

 “That sounds nice.” You answered.

 “Is that a book about local flora?”

 You held it up, showing him the cover. “Yes, I'm interested in foraging.” Neville smiled too.

 “Maybe we could study it together?” Neville suggested.

 You agreed that this was a good idea. The two of you sat together in the library and studied the book, with both of you adding knowledge you had gathered. Neville retrieved other books he had read, adding more information. It was nice. It wasn't a situation of you helping him study, it was a collaboration. You shared an interest and you were exploring it together. 

 The two of you studied together until the sun was about to set and the librarian was giving you pointed stares. You left and walked down the hallway together until you had to part way to go to your separate common rooms.

 “That was fun, thank you for hanging out with me.” You said.

 Neville was momentarily caught off guard when you thanked him as if he had done a favor. “I had fun too. I hope we can do it again, yeah? Not just…studying though.”

 You nodded happily. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

 Neville was nice, genuine, and you had common interests. You felt good about offering to help him with potions too, as you could tell he wasn't the type to take advantage. You felt better about your social issues now. You had successfully made one friend, and one was higher than zero.

Notes:

Sorry, less Snape in this one. But the plot must begin plotting at some point.

Chapter 6: Sunlight

 The weather was chilly now, and you couldn't go outside as much. The snow was pretty, but the sensory nightmare of frosty ears, nose, and fingers was too much. Not to mention, the way winter gear felt was very annoying.

 Not everything about winter was bad. Christmas, for one thing. Hogwarts felt even more magical during this time, with the decorations and buzz of Holiday excitement. The world outside was frigid and very bright from the sun reflecting on the snow, but inside was warm and cozy. You were looking forward to staying at the castle over the holidays, you always did. It was quiet and peaceful. Although, walking around when it started to get dark was rather scary…

 When you entered the potion classroom for a Saturday session assisting Snape, you were glad to wear casual clothes. A cozy sweater and denim overalls were far more comfortable than your uniform. “Hello, professor.” You greeted Snape with a small smile. You were told the previous day to bring warm clothes, that you'd be going out today. Tucked in your arm was a long overcoat, a scarf, gloves, and a hat.

 “Good day.” Snape replied, tugging on some gloves. He had earmuffs on, which you thought looked rather endearing on such an imposing figure. “We need to go to Hogsmeade and replenish a few ingredients. Then, we need to purchase a new set of stirrers to replace a set that has worn out.”

 “Okay.” You were excited to go on an outing with your favorite professor. You put on your overcoat and threw your scarf over your shoulders as Snape gave further instructions.

 “Do not wander. Stay close. It will be somewhat busy, however less so than it is in nicer weather.” He warned you. You would do your best to stay by his side, any crowds would likely encourage you to do just that anyway.

 Snape watched you tug your hat on, and saw that it had cat ears. He couldn't look away for a moment, feeling his heart rate increase from a steady walk to a skip. He wasn't normally the type to find something like that appealing in the least, but on you…

 That damned hat. He frowned, it was quite irritating to him. Cute.

 You put your gloves on. “I'm ready to go, sir.” You rocked on your heels, practically itching to start walking.

 “Let's be off, then.” Snape said. The two of you set off, leaving the dungeons and taking the nearest exit.

 The cold air tapped your nose quickly, painting it pink. You pulled your scarf up to cover your nose, but your eyes got fogged up with each breath you took. You had to walk quite fast to keep up with Snape's long, determined strides. He was walking almost at your jogging speed.

 Snape looked down and could only see a blurry, hopping figure slightly behind him. You clearly struggled to keep up. An amused smirk visited his lips for half a second before it was banished. He slowed down a bit for you to keep up. “Don't slip, it's icy.”

 You looked down, seeing a few spots here and there of shiny ground. You quickly looked back up, trying not to focus on the snow too much. Your eyes were already hurting a little bit from the sun bouncing off the tiny crystals of ice. You trusted the tread of your boots to cling to the ice if you couldn't look down enough to see it coming.

 “It's bright…” You shielded your eyes as the two of you turned on the path, walking more towards the sun now.

 “It is, isn't it…” Snape agreed softly. He sped up a little, just enough to start walking in front of you. He blocked out the sun, allowing you to look forward. You were grateful, and wanted to thank him, but stayed quiet.

 Soon enough, you entered the town of Hogsmeade. It was bustling, but not packed. You stayed close to Snape's side. He made it easy for you by keeping his pace slow. You never lost him in the crowd once. The few times a person or two stepped between you, you could close the gap before it became a problem as Snape's height made him a beacon. A sort of living, moving, shadowy lighthouse.

 You followed him into the first shop. He gave you a piece of parchment and a pen. “This is our shopping list. You are responsible for checking off each item and telling me what is left.”

 To be honest, it sort of felt like he just gave you a task to keep you busy. Actually, when you thought about it for a second, it came to you that there wasn't much reason for you to be there at all. He could easily have done the shopping alone, aren't I just extra weight? You were glad to be there regardless.

 You tailed him throughout the store. It was a simple apothecary, one room with shelves on the wall stacked with jars and boxes of various herbs and ingredients. You tried to stay focused, checking off powdered unicorn horn. It was a room full of interesting things to look at though, and you kept getting distracted by the various items. You became enamored by a jar of leeches, live ones. You watched them wriggle and swim.

 “We are not here for leeches, L/N.” Snape drawled. You were jolted out of your lapse in focus. “Knotweed.” Snape stated, reminding you to check off that ingredient on your list when you looked his way.

 “Focus, focus.” You murmured. Ever since Snape had said that, you had occasionally repeated it to yourself. Snape's ears perked as he heard it, recognising the tone you used, as it mimicked him.

 You were feeling hungry just as Snape paid for the ingredients. It was lunch time. You were very distracted by your stomach, which tingled with emptiness. You both exited the shop, each carrying a fabric bag of items. You almost spoke up, when Snape beat you to it.

 “We should stop for a meal, I suppose.” He said.

 “Yay!” You were so relieved that you cheered. You then tried to temper yourself, blushing with embarrassment and clearing your throat. Snape did not look at you. Just keep walking, Severus. Do not look. You will laugh.

 Snape led you past the Three Broomsticks, the fabled tavern you had lingered outside of many times. You had never entered for fear of the noise and the crowd. He stopped in front of a door. He opened it, gesturing for you to enter.

 You looked around and shook off the cold. It was a humble establishment, a restaurant and bar. It was quiet. The bar was empty as it was midday, and only a few tables sat diners. You and Snape took a booth, sliding in.

 “Do you…come here very often?” You attempted conversation.

 “I do. It lacks the irritating chafe of people that the Three Broomsticks has.” He answered.

 You looked at the menu. The prices were fair. You saw that they had butterbeer. Being from a muggle family, and never being able to handle the loud environment of any tavern, you had not had a chance to try it yet.

 A waitress came by and took your orders. “Butternut squash soup with bread, and a black coffee.” Snape ordered. You hadn't even looked at the food yet, but the soup sounded delicious and perfect for a winter's day. 

 “I'll have the same thing, but with a warm non-alcoholic butterbeer please.” You ordered. The waitress left after writing your orders down. You were excited to try the sweet beverage for the first time. “I've never had butterbeer before…”

 Snape was surprised by this as he looked at your smiling, anticipatory expression. “Really? And I thought all young people guzzled the treacle stuff.”

 “The taverns, especially the Three Broomsticks, are way too busy…”

 “Ah. I see. That makes sense.” Snape understood. He knew how difficult such an environment would be for you. He had in fact chosen this establishment for that very reason, along with the fact that it was his usual spot, not overrun with teenagers.

 Your meals arrived. Your soups had to cool, so you grasped the handle of your mug. Snape couldn't help but watch closely as you raised it to your lips and tasted your very first sip of the beverage. Your reaction was strong, exaggerated. 

 Snape had to use all his strength not to react as you placed your mug down and flapped your hands with joy. The beverage was so sweet, warm and frothy. It was unlike anything you'd ever tasted. Your hands flapped and you shimmied in your seat. “Mm!”

 Snape lost his battle and a half grin was briefly spotted on his face. “Very…expressive reaction. You enjoy it, I take it?” He quirked an eyebrow up at you as he sipped his coffee.

 “Yes, it's so good…mm.” You took another big sip, holding the mug with both hands as you tipped it back.

 “You'll give yourself a stomach ache.” Snape chided.

 You set the mug down and frowned, narrowing your eyes at him. “I'm an adult, I can decide how fast I drink my butterbeer.”

 “Very well.” Snape smirked, amused by your assertion but respecting your autonomy. You were correct, after all.

 You both began sipping your soup. It was warm, spiced and seasoned perfectly. The butternut squash soup was absolutely the right choice for the cold weather. You felt it stoke your stomach like adding wood to a comforting, roaring fire. You kept shimmying in your seat with each bite, it was so delicious. Snape tried to focus on his food, but his attention was split between it and you.

 “I have a question for you. About something I have noticed.” Snape spoke up between bites.

 “Yes? What is it?” You tilted your head.

 “I notice that you often…repeat things. Things I say. Why?” He asked, clearing his throat and placing his chin on his hand.

 You didn't expect him to notice that. Though, in hindsight it was rather obvious. You had repeated him many times in his presence, both one-off echoes and phrases that had entered your usual repertoire. “It's called echolalia, it's an autistic trait. Basically, it's just the repetition of words and phrases either said by others or yourself. It's semi-involuntary or sometimes fully involuntary.”

 Professor Snape took in your explanation with interest. There was so much about you to learn and to understand. It seemed endless, but not in a negative way. “Is there any…rhyme or reason to the phrases you repeat?”

 “Kind of. It's often just something I find satisfying to say, or something that stuck in my mind.” You added further detail, more than happy to teach him something about yourself. “I repeat the words of people I admire, in particular.”

 Snape felt a little waver in his breath when you said that. “Is that why you say… ‘focus, focus’ so often? That is something you picked up from me, yes?”

 You smiled, looking down with a nod. “I find it useful, it helps me stay grounded and…focus.”

 The two of you fell silent and resumed eating. Snape felt rather proud that something he said, even as simple as a word said twice, was in your daily speech. Not only did you pay close attention to him in class, but things he said beyond the confines of a schedule block were held in your mind as well.

 The meal was satisfying and you both felt renewed. The waitress came by to ask about the bill, and both of you got your wallets ready. The waitress asked who would cover it. Snape spoke up quickly. “I-” Or, he attempted to.

 “We'll split it, please.” You cut him off. You didn't want him to pay for you. He gave you a stern look as the waitress went off to arrange the bill. You gave Snape a neutral look in return, not crumbling under his gaze.

 “I was fine with paying.” He said flatly.

 “I don't really like people paying for me.” You replied, standing your ground. Snape conceded, knowing it was too late to change your mind. 

 You both paid your half of the bill, then left for your final stop, a store that sold equipment for potion making. You followed Snape to the stirrer shelf. You saw stirrers of all shapes and sizes. Oak glazed with resin, obsidian, copper. There were little ones and huge ones, and ones with elaborate carved designs. All of them were in divided containers, or cases if they were higher end. A few very pretty ones caught your eye.

 Snape sought the ones you came for, a standard set of selenite. They were coated of course, as selenite dissolved in water. He was discerning, taking his time to select the best value set. You took the opportunity to discreetly pick something up, a Christmas present. You paid for it, and were back before he noticed you had left his side.

 Snape exited the store with you in tow. You left Hogsmeade behind you and made your way down the path back to Hogwarts. The sun was behind you, and didn't bother you quite as much.

 The closer you both got to the castle, the more people you saw playing in the snow. Many snowmen were being built, and snowball fights were commencing. You must have looked envious, because Snape spoke up. “Are you disappointed to be running errands instead of gallivanting in the snow with your friends?”

 You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from the jubilation around you. “No. I only have one friend, and Neville says he avoids snowball fights because he's targeted a bit too aggressively.”

 “Only one friend, hm? Longbottom?” Snape asked, but he didn't sound judgemental despite his track record with Neville. This was most likely due to his improvements in potions…and perhaps in part because of you unknowingly encouraging him to be less harsh.

 “Yes.” You replied simply.

 “Incorrect. You have two.” Snape said unexpectedly. Even he was surprised by his correction. He felt vulnerable in an odd way to say something like that. What was that for? He glanced down to the side at you, taking his sight off his forward trajectory for just a moment.

 “...Oh.” You were not sure how to respond, although you knew what he meant. He was saying that he was your friend. You smiled up at him, eyes aglow with how happy that made you. “I have two friends.”

 Snape almost ceased walking because of the expression on your face. That smile was so…sweet, so genuine. So like the sun itself with all its enlightening rays. They are just so beautiful. He blinked away that thought, or tried to.

 Snape looked away, staring straight ahead and continued to walk. He said nothing more all the way back into the castle, and into the potion room to put away what had been purchased that day.

Notes:

Oh, to go shopping with Severus Snape...

Chapter 7: Roots

 It was the final day of classes before the Christmas holiday. You were standing next to Neville, comparing Sopophorous plants. Neville's was tall, with lush leaves. It was just about ready to produce pods. Yours was a few inches shorter, with just a few leaves.

 “It's grown a bit since last week.” Neville said, trying to be encouraging.

 “Mine's the smallest in the class…” You sighed. You still had to transfer pots like everyone else. Your plant's roots were getting too crowded in such a small pot.

 You were careful with the spade as you pushed it into the pot. You kept the spade flush against the terracotta, and then lifted the plant out. Your gloved hand cradled the soil and roots, and the mass was fixed into the shape of its original pot even when you placed it into the new one. The fresh soil you added settled around the plant, and you added water to quench its dryness.

 Neville set his next to yours on the shelf occupied by your class. His Sopophorous plant was the furthest along in the class, and yours was the most behind. The contrast was stark. You still liked yours, you just hoped it would thrive soon.

 Sprout wished the class a good holiday. You were going to stay at the castle, so you'd definitely be handling your plant's upkeep yourself. Everyone filed out of the room and you went to your next class.

 You missed saying goodbye to Neville because you had to go assist Snape. At least, you thought you did. When you arrived at the potion classroom, the door was shut and locked as if closed for the day. You knocked at the door a few times, no answer. Maybe he wants me to go to his office? I don't remember him saying that, but I've definitely missed things before.

 His office door was closed, but not locked. You still knocked on the door as you opened it, a polite gesture to alert whoever was inside to your entry. Snape was at his desk, pouring over the essays the fourth year class had handed in that day. His ruthless quill was like a switchblade, slashing across the pages with cold precision. Based on his no doubt headache inducing frown, the essays must have been abysmal, to his standards anyway.

 When you knocked and entered, he glanced up and his brows released their tension. “L/N? What are you doing here?”

 “Am I…not needed today?” You asked. Your hand was kept on the door handle, just in case you had to leave.

 Snape thought for a second. He had told you the day before that you did not have to assist him today, that you could begin your Holiday. However, it seemed you had either forgotten or not taken in his words in their entirety and here you were, and once you arrived it was hard for him to send you away. He should have let you go say goodbye to people and start relaxing. His more selfish side won out.

 “Actually, I could use some assistance in marking these assignments.” He separated his pile of assignments into two equal stacks. You pulled up a chair and set to work. Snape initiated conversation. “You'll be staying at the castle for Holidays again this year, yes?”

 You bobbed your head to confirm, “Yep.” Going home was out of the question for you. Too chaotic, too stressful. Crying yourself to sleep was not the ideal way to spend Christmas.

 “May I ask why?” Snape prodded.

 You paused. You weren't sure of how much you wanted to reveal. The truth could soil the mood, and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable by getting too personal. He asked though, so you decided you may as well answer. “My home life is kind of rough, and the holiday parties are too much for me.” The answer you gave struck a balance between honest and vague.

 “Rough?” Snape was concerned. Caught between his duty as a professor to ensure your well-being, and his personal urge to protect you, he couldn't help but probe for a bit more detail.

 “My mother is…difficult. She's demanding and…volatile, and I don't really get any understanding or grace from her. If I went home it would be very tense and I would be made to attend busy events.” You explained.

 “You're safe though?” Snape asked. The air felt a bit heavy, yet still. You thought for a second, trying to brush crumbs of thought into a pile to compose a suitable response.

 “What does that…mean?” You asked. Snape's worry was palpable enough that you saw it in his face, his gaze was intense. His expression was fixed and his jaw tight. “I don't get beaten, if that's what you're worried about.”

 Snape stared at you. You didn't know what being safe meant? Or you didn't understand his concern? “That is not the only way-” Snape began to tell you that physical abuse was not the only type of abuse, but he saw you returning to the assignments. He took a hint, you did not want to get into it. He was still very worried. His gaze lingered on you for what felt like minutes.

 Snape returned to his work, but his teeth were gritted together. He had to remind himself to calm down when his jaw started to hurt. I hope it is merely tension, and not abuse. If it's abuse, I'll… He didn't know where he was going with that thought. He made a mental note to check in with you, to try and get you to open up about it in the future.

 “...What's your favorite thing about Christmas?” You asked, changing the subject.

 Snape hummed in thought. “Peace and quiet.”

 You frowned, not satisfied. “Really? Not the pretty lights, or the tasty food?” You smiled at the thought of holiday festivities, not completely deterred from the holiday despite your home experiences with it. “There has to be something.”

 Snape looked away, then looked back. He didn't have the heart to admit to you how little he cared for Christmas. It wasn't that he hated it, he just had no stand-out memories of it, and no one to celebrate with besides coworkers. “...Hot cocoa?” He tried to at least give you something to work with.

 “You can have that any time during winter, not just Christmas…” You sighed and slumped in your seat, a little disappointed. You could have sworn you saw Snape release a small, amused huff.

 Later, you went to your dormitory. It was empty now, as all the other students had left. You liked having a room to yourself, and after your first few years staying for Christmas, you had gotten over any uneasiness caused by the large, dark room.

 There were only a few days until Christmas, and you couldn't wait. You, in your soft pajamas, knelt in front of the trunk at the end of your bed. You flicked the latches down and lifted the lid. Inside, next to your clothing and other possessions, was a box. It was long and rather flat, rectangular. You lifted it up and removed the lid. Inside, sitting on a cushion of sorts, was an obsidian potion stirrer. It had a narrow end and a thicker end. The narrow end would be dipped into the potion to stir. The thick end was carved into a beautiful raven, regal and geometric.

 This was the gift you had bought at the potion equipment store while Snape was distracted. It was for him, naturally. You couldn't wait to give it to him. You replaced the lip on the box. In the quiet room, you decided to wrap it. Crap, I don't have any wrapping paper. Hm…

 You looked around and spotted a newspaper someone had left behind on their bed. You took it, and laid the gift on one sheet. You carefully folded the paper around the box, trying to make it as neat as possible. You fumbled with annoying tape, and labelled it with a scrap of paper. Then, to try and make it look nicer, you stuck a small yellow pressed flower on the label in place of a bow.

 The next morning, you went early to the Great Hall to place your gift under the tree. The Christmas tree in the Great Hall was huge and decorated beautifully, with more baubles and candles with coloured flames than you could count. You crouched by the tree, still in your pajamas. You slid the gift under a bough, making sure it was perfectly placed where Snape would find it.

 “Someone's an early riser.” That familiar voice said. You nearly jumped, startled. You stood up and turned to face Snape, who noticed how soft and…cuddly you looked.

 “Good morning.” You said. You felt embarrassed by the idea of him seeing you place his gift under the tree and you scampered off to go change before coming back for breakfast.

 Snape watched you leave, wondering what had you in such a rush. Then, he looked down and saw the newspaper package. He lowered himself to read the label, and he saw the pressed flower. He exhaled, a soft breath escaping him. You had gotten him a Christmas gift. Why?

 His fingers itched to pick it up and tear off the newspaper, to see what you had given him. You are a grown man, Severus, pull yourself together. He left it alone and took his seat at the staff table, his usual morning coffee appeared in front of him as had been his routine for years. He would be patient and wait until Christmas like a normal, sensible person.

 You and Snape didn't see much of each other throughout the next couple of days. You were invested in trying to learn the best possible ways to make your Sopophorous plant grow better, and you were making cards for all your professors and Dumbledore. In addition to that, you were taking advantage of having the entire library to yourself. The few other students who had also stayed at Hogwarts were not particularly interested in using their holiday to read, even for pleasure.

 When Christmas morning finally came, you rushed to brush your teeth and hair. You splashed water on your face and dried it- hardly your proper washing routine. You changed clothes and raced to the Great Hall, carrying a stack of cards.

 Upon your arrival, you saw a few students opening gifts at different tables. The staff were exchanging gifts too. Dumbledore had a pile of tins of Sherbet Lemons from various students. Hagrid was watching with almost childish glee as McGonagall pulled a scarf from a box that was crude, but knitted with love. Snape had the least gifts, none from students and a few from Dumbledore and McGonagall.

 You ran up to the staff table. Without a word, you placed a card in front of each place setting. They each had been designed the same, with slight variation. The outsides each had a pressed flower of course, you had selected a different one for each professor. The insides had short messages of appreciation specific to each person.

 You slid Snape's card to him. He took it. You watched him open it and read the message within. Snape read the message with the hint of softness on his face. His grip on the card was gentle, he took great care not to damage it. The message read-

 Dear Professor Snape,

 You are my favorite professor, because you teach my favorite class, but also because you listen to me and try to understand me. I love being your assistant because I learn a lot, and it keeps me busy. You're always looking out for me, too. You are not just my professor, but my friend. Thank you for being my friend.

 Sincerely,

Y/N L/N

 Snape saw that things had been erased multiple times, and your somewhat stiff language demonstrated that you had struggled to figure out what to say. Those things only made it mean more to him. He let himself smile a little bit. “You can…come to me, if you ever need help.” He said, uncharacteristically open.

 “Okay…” You felt the ticking of your heart speed up, and a subtle warmth rise to your cheeks. “...That means a lot, thank you.” Snape merely nodded, looking elsewhere and clearing his throat. He acted nonchalant.

 You sat for breakfast. You really wanted to take Snape's gift out from under the tree and make him open it in front of you. He hadn't picked it up yet, even though all the other gifts had been retrieved by their owners. You worried that he somehow didn't notice it, or that he didn't want to open it for some reason.

 You stuck around after everyone left, and so did he. You were worried about looking creepy, but you watched him while he finished his coffee, willing him to grab his present. Finally, he set down his mug. 

 He got up and approached the tree, then crouched in front of it. You couldn't quell your smile as he picked up the package and straightened up. To your wonderment, he then picked up another box that was hidden behind the tree. It was wrapped in green paper and tied with a silver bow. Snape walked towards you.

 You rose from your seat, and Snape held the green package out to you. “Merry…Christmas.” He said. You could have laughed at the way the greeting sounded from his low, dry drawl. You almost did, but but your tongue.

 “Thank you, you didn't have too…” You smiled wide. As you took the package, your excitement took over and you shook it a bit, shimmying. Snape softened, but only an eagle eyed observer would have noticed. “You open yours first.”

 Snape obliged. He removed the label first, not wanting to damage the pressed flower. He then tore off the newspaper. It was almost unbearable how slow he moved, how careful he was. Perhaps your anticipation was exaggerating it, though. Finally, he set the wrapping aside and held the box. He glanced at you, then lifted the lid.

 You watched his reaction closely. Please like it, please like it…

 Snape's mouth opened in a slightly awed ‘o’ shape. The obsidian stirrer was beautiful. His first thought though, was that you had spent money on him if all people. “How much did this cost?”

 You were simultaneously touched by his concern and bothered by it. “It's a Christmas gift. Doesn't matter.” You could sense that he wasn't used to people spending money on him. He looked quite at a loss, admiring the object as he took it from the box, feeling the smoothness of it, the weight of it in his hands.

 Snape room in the raven carving. “It's lovely…thank you.” He said softly. “What made you choose this particular design?”

 “It just reminded me of you. You seem like you would like Edgar Allan Poe.” You replied, fidgeting your hands together.

 “I do…do you?” Snape asked. His voice was almost a whisper as he placed the stirrer back into its box. You nodded.

 “I do.”

 Snape's mouth curved upward, and it was enough that you could see it now. They share my taste in literature. Of course they do. He then commanded his face and voice as close to neutrality as he could muster. “It's your turn.”

 You wasted no time, tearing into your gift from him. You made confetti out of the green wrapping paper, and Snape rolled his eyes. You quickly revealed the hard cover of a book. Your eyes lit up and you looked up at him as if to ask if he really got this for you. It was a collection of essays from classic philosophers, including An Essay Concerning Human Understanding by John Locke, one of your favorites.

 Before Snape could ask if you liked it, you were jumping up and down. You hopped in place and shook your fists by your face. Snape recalled the meaning of this action and how it connected to others of yours. They're…stimming, I think. Snape watched you jump for joy, and his heart swelled with affection.

 You didn't notice Snape step forward at first, not until he was leaning down. You stopped and looked up at him curiously, and saw an almost troubled look on his face. His face was suddenly so near, and then…

 You felt something rush through you as you felt his lips on your cheek for just a moment. It was a very brief kiss, but so soft and gentle. As he pulled away, looking rather aghast at his own action, you felt a tingling where his lips had been. You felt your heart beat to a cartoonish level of hardness and speed, and you could have sworn it was visible through your shirt, but of course this was not true.

 You were left there, struck dumb, as Snape turned on his heels and cleared the floor at a rapid pace to exit the Great Hall. You stared straight ahead, processing, for quite a while. He just kissed me on the cheek.

 You were already falling for him, but now you had just hit the floor. The roots of love were firmly entrenched in your soil, and like your Sopophorous plant, you would have it grow.

Notes:

This fic is just a challenge for me to write the most tender Snape I can to be honest.

Chapter 8: Nurture

Notes:

This is one of my favorites so far...enjoy :)

Snape avoided you for the rest of the Christmas holiday, but when classes resumed he went back to normal. He behaved almost as if your unexpected encounter on Christmas Day didn't happen. You had mixed feelings about that. Mostly negative, but you were nowhere near brave enough to address the situation. You told yourself it was better to let things settle for now, so as not to ruin the friendship you had developed by moving too hastily.

 You reunited with Neville in Herbology class. “How was your holiday?” You asked him.

 “It was good. I got a new Herbology book, and some seeds. My aunt brought her terrible Yorkshire pudding to Christmas dinner again this year, though. I've no idea how she gets it so salty...” He said. You would give him his gift from you later, a book on herbology. “How about you?”

 You weren't sure if you should tell him every detail. However, you decided that if you have a friend, you should be able to gush about crushes to them. The greenhouses were not the place for that, though. “I'll…tell you later.”

 “You must have had an adventure, then?” Neville looked curious.

 “...You could say that.” You sighed. He had no idea.

 The two of you checked your plants. You were pleased when you held up the ruler to yours and it had grown a centimeter. Neville's was starting to grow bean pods, and you were happy for him. You couldn't wait until yours started to produce pods too. “It's growing at half the regular rate, is that right Neville?”

 “Yup. Half is better than no growth at all though.” He replied.

 “You're right. I know it will speed up soon.” You kept a positive attitude.

 Snape said he didn't need any help that day, so you hung out with Neville instead of assisting him. You sat on a more secluded staircase to share stories about your holidays. You only had one, of course, but you were anxious about sharing it. What if he thinks I'm a weirdo for feeling that way about Snape?

 “Are you going to tell me your mysterious holiday story?” Neville asked.

 “I'm afraid you might judge me…I know you're not that type of person, but it's something that might be an exception.” You were very nervous. Neville tilted his head and crossed his arms. He looked determined.

 “Try me.” Neville challenged.

 “Well…okay. Don't say I didn't warn you.” You took a deep breath before you told him your story. You told him everything, starting from when you bought Snape his gift. You second guessed yourself about the ending, but included it anyway. Neville's eyes widened when you revealed that Snape had kissed you on the cheek.

 Neville was stunned, and it took him a few seconds to say anything. “... You're barking.” He said finally. He didn't believe you at all.

 “I'm telling the truth. It happened.” You blushed. You looked down at your lap, not wanting to see Neville's reaction.

 “Did you…well…like it?” Neville asked. He was trying to be supportive, and to do that he had to determine what kind of support you needed. Were you uncomfortable, or did the kiss suit the way you felt about the stern Professor Snape?

 “I…” Your cheeks tingled with warmth. A slight, shy smile spread across your features. “Yes. I did.”

 Neville's brows went up further, his forehead was now decorated with a few ripples. He gathered his thoughts. “So you have feelings for Snape?” Neville felt a hint of panic, before he remembered you were 21, not 17 like himself. It was still a unique situation, but not necessarily an unethical one. He didn't think Snape was a creep. Just kind of an arse.

 “I do.” You admitted. It felt so relieving to confess to your romantic feelings toward your professor. At the same time, it was terrifying. It made them so much more real. You finally looked up at Neville. “You probably think I'm weird, huh?”

 “No, no! It's not weird, it's just…” Neville held his hands up, trying to be reassuring. “It's just unexpected, I guess. I mean, no offense but…it's Snape.” Neville almost felt a shudder, remembering the way the man had tormented him in his younger years.

 “I know…he's not exactly known for being nice. But he's gotten better over the last couple of years, haven't you noticed? And from my experiences with him, he's…” You sighed. You were so far gone for him, which Neville saw in your eyes as you started to gush about Snape. “He's brilliant, and handsome, and always looks out for me. He listens and understands, he…” You tailed off, embarrassed by your rambling.

 Neville laughed lightly. “You're mad for him, aren't you?”

 You confirmed with a sigh. “I don't know what to do…”

 Neville wanted to help, but he thought of himself as the last person anyone should go to for romantic advice. He didn't dare try to come up with a game plan for you. He did, however, offer words of support based on the information he'd been given. “Well…if he kissed your cheek, you probably have a chance. I can't imagine Snape doing that at all, especially without a really good reason.”

 Neville might have been right. You refused to let yourself have too much hope, though. What if it was paternal? That would be a nightmare. Of course, you knew deep down it wasn't anything like that.

 The next day, it was back to the potion assistant grind. Snape and you were brewing potions for his classes the following day. You were working on an antidote to common poisons, he was working on Elixir to Induce Euphoria.

 The room was quiet. You were surrounded by a warm, dim light that had become like home to you. The flickering light illuminates Snape's features, placing little stars in his eyes and framing the structure of his face and the lines of his lips. Even saying nothing, he was distracting you from your work.

 The way he moved was enhanced by the fact that his cloak was draped on a chair beside him. His outfit was so layered, with so many buttons, yet it was still fitted. This allowed you to see the full grace of his actions. How his back stayed straight and only curved when he had to lean forward to chop something, which he did so with a speed and precision that was both aspirational and beautiful. His weight would occasionally shift, creating a line of curvature from his broader shoulders to his very subtly defined waist, to his hips. Everything about him screamed elegant.

 Focus, focus. You looked back down at your potion. It was still separated, you could see undissolved powder. You resumed your stirring, mentally scolding yourself for getting distracted like that.

 Along with the feelings that were expanding every day in your heart, the memory of Snape saying you could come to him if you needed help was also on your mind. It was almost New Years, and one thing you felt inspired to do was try new things. New experiences that you had missed out on due to your difficulties.

 The first thing on your list was to watch an entire Quidditch game. You knew you would need help with this. Asking was intimidating, though. I don't want to be annoying, and I don't want to make him babysit me. You built up the courage to bring up the topic.

 You waited until Snape was leaving his potion to simmer before you spoke. “Sir?” You got his attention. He looked at you and gestured for you to continue. “I was wondering if…you could help me with something. You can tell me to bugger off if it's too much.”

 Snape's eyes narrowed and he smirked faintly, amused by how you were softening your request in such a self deprecating way. “What is it?”

 “I want to try to watch the next Quidditch game, but I don't think I can do it alone. I didn't want to ask Neville because…well, I don't think he could handle my needs and it's not fair to him. But you have helped me before.” You explained your goal and the help you needed. Then you add, “I understand that's a big request, and you probably don't want to babysit anyone.”

 Snape shook his head and dismissed your worries. “It's no trouble. Not to me. Not for you.” His words made your throat tighten for a second. It wasn't any trouble for him to help you specifically.

 “Okay, thank you. I'm making my own preparations too, I'll remember to bring ear muffs.” You replied.

 “You can sit next to me in the staff stand, where it should be a bit quieter, and no one will be so close to you.” Snape offered. He wanted to add ‘except me’ to that last part.

 You were very grateful. You thanked him for his generosity, his consideration. A relieved and happy expression was on your face for the rest of the time you spent in the classroom brewing with him. He had accepted your request without caveat or condition, and that was something you were not used to in the slightest.

 A few days later came the next Quidditch game. Your feet pounded grass as you jogged up to Snape. “I'm ready!” You said with an optimistic resolve. Snape took your ear muffs from your hands and placed them in your head, aligning the soft coverings onto your ears.

 “Good. Follow me.” He said. With a swift turn, he went towards the stands. You followed the swirling, cloudy shape of his thicker winter cloak up the stairs. He sat in the back, leaving space at the end of the bench for you. It was a bit intimidating to be so high up, but you felt safe with him there. You sat down and were ready to watch the game, determined to finish it.

 Snape's presence next to you was strong and quietly supportive. He eyed you next to him, watching to make sure you were comfortable. Your knees bounced, you were restless waiting for the game to begin. The sun was bright, though, and worry snuck in.

 Just as you started to feel trepidatious because of the sun, some sunglasses were slid onto your face. Snape had brought shades for you. His fingers ran across your hair as he put them on you, his movement was gentle and fluid. He adjusted them on your nose. Then, he tucked a stray section of hair behind your ear. “Better?” He asked.

 You could only nod, feeling a little shy because of the way his fingers had brushed against you so casually. The game began and it wasn't as loud and overwhelming as the first time you watched. Not only did you have tools and a supportive person next to you, but the game was Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor, rather than Slytherin vs Gryffindor, so it wasn't as intense or loaded.

 The players zipped around, and you could admire their skill now. The way they spun in the air to hit the balls was impressive, and the flight maneuvers were a little scary when they nearly collided, but fun to watch at the same time. 

 Snape had no choice but to smile as he watched you cheer for both teams. Anytime anything good happened for either team, you clapped and cheered. You were having so much fun, and Snape was glad to see it. I could just take their hand right now. He wrenched his gaze away from you and put imaginary blinders on in an effort to focus on the Quidditch game.

 You watched in awe as a player protected their teammate by donkey-kicking a ball away with one foot. The ball had been hurling towards the player, and the other one flew in front and faced their teammate while kicking the ball, which flew off in a random direction. That required a level of fitness and skill you couldn't imagine trying to replicate.

 That save caused a particularly loud cheer to erupt from the crowd. Snape moved quickly, putting an arm around your head so both hands could cover your earmuffs, pressing them down to prevent the sound from bothering you.

 Every time the crowd got louder, Snape held your earmuffs in place. Whenever he did that, he was so close. His cloak would hover around you like a shield, and would cut the cold breeze like a sword. You could smell herbs, rain, and something smokey…probably smoke, actually, from some brewing techniques that use flame.

 You were overwhelmed in a very different way than usual. There was no sensory overload. Instead, it was your emotions and heart that were overstimulated. Snape was taking care of you more than you anticipated, and you didn't understand why he was putting in so much effort.

 It all came to a head when a bludger shot towards the staff stands.

 You saw the thing for only half a second, it was barreling through the air at a break neck speed, straight for the professors. “Ah!” You yelped. A millisecond later, you were enveloped. Snape's cloak surrounded you, and you were instantly pressed against his chest as he turned to shield you with his back. His arms locked around you and you could have sworn you heard him whisper your first name with fear in his voice.

 As this happened, you heard Dumbledore cast Arresto Momentum. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you heard Snape's beating even faster and harder. You calmed down after a few seconds. Just as your body wanted to melt against his, he started to pull away.

 He returned to his seat and you saw the Bludger float back to the field, guided by Dumbledore's flawless magic. Snape looked you over, though there was no reason to worry that you'd been injured. “You're alright?” He asked.

 “I'm fine. Are you?” It was your turn to be concerned. He had shielded you with his body. If it weren't for Dumbledore, Snape could have had his spine severely damaged by the Bludger. It was hard to digest that he was willing to take such a risk for you.

 “I'm perfectly fine.” He scoffed. He tried to seem distant, crossing his arms and staring at the Quidditch pitch as the game continued. His eyes kept moving to you, though. You saw through his stoic act this time, and it made you feel kind of warm and fuzzy.

 The rest of the game passed without further incident. After you left the Quidditch pitch, you walked to the castle with Snape. You smiled up at him. “Thank you for helping me. It was fun, minus the bludger incident.”

 “You're welcome.” He responded formally.

 “Next time though, I should be the one to help you.” You said. You had been feeling guilty about how often he was taking care of you, especially after he put himself in danger to protect you.

 “With what, exactly?” He raised a brow.

 You hadn't thought of that. “Um…I'll think of something!” You exclaimed. You became determined to try and return the favour to him somehow, even in a small way.

 Snape ‘hmf’ed in amusement. “Alright.” He sounded unconvinced, which only spurred you on.

Chapter 9: Nature

In your search for a way to thank Snape for everything he's done for you, you returned to a hyperfixation on growing him Sopophorous beans with your plant in Herbology. Your plan was to grow the beans and ask Professor Sprout to let you process them yourself to give to Snape. You wanted to harvest, open, clean, dry, and package them. All for his personal use, not for his teaching storage like the other beans in the class would be. It was nowhere near what you thought he deserved, but you hoped he would appreciate the gesture anyway.

 You talked to Neville about how to make your plant produce the most beans possible, and he told you about a potion he had read about. It was a potent fertilizer, one he himself had wanted to use but couldn't brew at his skill level. You said you would brew enough for both of you, and in return he said he would give you his beans too.

 You read the recipe in a book from the library as you sat on your bed. It required herbs that you knew were local. I could try to buy them, but some of these are rarer and would be really expensive.

 After scanning the ingredients list in the page, you slid the book to the side on your bedspread to make room for another. You reached down under your night stand and picked up the book on local flora you had borrowed from the library. As you compared the list of ingredients to the plants you know grew around Hogwarts, a new idea took hold.

 Why just give Snape some beans? Why not make him an entire catalog of local Hogwarts ingredients? To add on to that, you were kind of crafty, so you could definitely buy a small shelf or organiser of some kind and paint it, then stock it with those ingredients.

 You smiled. Yes, that was perfect. You knew how much Professor Snape liked organisational systems, having helped him sort and categorise many ingredients and pieces of equipment over your tenure as his assistant. He had a folder of charts and spreadsheets for checking inventory.

 That weekend, you had enough time away from your duties with Snape to go to Hogsmeade alone. The bustle of people was less so than warmer months, but you still had to wear your earmuffs on top of your hat to dim the racket of voices. You also wore the shades from Snape, so the blinding reflection of sunlight in the snow didn't bother you.

 You charged with purpose to a shop that sold various antiques and collectibles. If anywhere would have the right price of furniture to customize, it would be them. Upon entering, you saw furniture piled up or lined up around two big rooms. Everything was old or handmade, and labelled with metallic ink on scraps of paper tied to whatever the item in question was. An old woman spoke with a customer at the register.

 Your footsteps echoed on petrified, aged floorboards with a hollow sort of sound. Somewhere in the shop, a song you didn't recognize played on a record. Most things here would not have looked out of place in a muggle antique store, save for some magical artifacts in the form of vintage books, brooms, and what-have-you.

 In the back corner of one room, you found what you were looking for. It was a unit of cube shelves, made of wood. It was in good condition, the only wear being in the chipped white paint, but you planned to paint it over in black anyway. It had 24 shelves, each with a brown wooden drawer, they were unpainted and carved, not uniform and rather whimsical. Perfect.

 The price was fair enough too. You had some money from Christmas gifts from your family, and you thought this was a good idea for some of it. After talking to the old woman, you were allowed to pick it up and bring it to the register. It was light enough to carry that distance. However, after you paid, you decided to temporarily shrink it so as to carry it in your bag.

 You went to a stationary and art supply afterwards to get some paint, just a small tube as you could paint it while shrunk to save money. I am a genius, you thought. You also picked up tape.

 Upon returning to Hogwarts and putting away your purchases to work on the gift later, you met up with Neville in the library. You sat with him at a table and discussed your plan. “I want to make Snape a mini apothecary of ingredients sourced only from Hogwarts’ grounds, as thanks for all the things he has done for me.”

 “Good idea. How are you going to find everything though?” Neville asked.

 “I'll forage for them. There's some common stuff in the fields, and the shore of the lake has some things too. The forest has-” You began to explain, but Neville cut you off.

 Neville's eyes were wide and his tone was borderline horrified. “No way, you are not going into the forbidden forest! It's literally called forbidden.”

 You knew he'd react that way. “I know, but it's the best place to find what I need. Besides, I'm an adult.” You said.

 “I'll tell.” Neville said, a promise to snitch on you. “For your own good. It's dangerous, and you could get lost.”

 “I won't get lost.” You waved off his concern. You saw how serious he looked. He would definitely tell a professor. “...Fine.” You pretended to concede. Ordinarily, you wouldn't lie, but you had a one track mind when it came to this project.

 “Meet me every night after at 7:00 until you finish your project…if you aren't there I'll assume you went off to the woods.” Neville said. You sighed. I can't believe I'm being bossed around by a boy four years younger than me.

 “Alright.” You replied. You thought you could go to the woods and come back before then anyway.

 A few days later, once the shelf was painted, you gathered things for a trip to the woods. You put on your coat and picked up a basket to hold anything you foraged. You put on your good boots, ones with traction. Or, they used to have good traction. You observed that the bottom of your boots appeared shinier, smoother. It's fine.

 You were off. It was a bit warmer on this day, so you didn't need to worry about freezing out there. You walked through the large field, and picked a couple of useful flowers on the way to the treeline. The forest looked huge and dark and alive. You paused, wondering if you should have brought tape to mark your path. I'll just keep my path straight and come out the same way I came.

 Leaves crunched beneath your feet as you entered the woods. The coverage of the leaves filtered out a lot of light, it felt like sunset although it was hardly the evening. The woods were absolutely beautiful, though. Despite the winter cold, the trees were leafy. You suspected there was a magic here that kept them that way. It was lush, even with the patches of snow.

 Your eyes surveyed the foliage for anything useful as you walked. There was a shelf of fungi that you recognised on a rotting stump, you knelt in front of it and felt the moisture of moss on your jeans as you took a Swiss Army knife and carefully cut a modest but suitable amount of the mushroom off the stump, and placed it in your basket.

 You continued on your way. It was quiet and peaceful, the only soundtrack you had was the rustling of trees and the occasional chirping of a bird. You made sure to stay on a straight path so as not to get lost.

 That is until you saw a patch of wild lavender in a clearing. It's just a few meters away, it's fine. You went to the patch.

It was so pretty and fragrant. The flowers were a vibrant but dusty purple, and you spotted a butterfly flittering about. You picked a small bundle and laid it next to the mushrooms. You would dry them out, tied on your bedpost later. After you took a moment to small the lavender some more, you stood up. The path you were following before was behind you, you knew that, but…

 There were some tracks in the dirt. Unicorn tracks. You knew that if you followed them, you could probably find more plentiful areas. You might even get to spot a unicorn, which would be absolutely awe inspiring. If I follow the tracks, I can follow them back to the lavender patch, and then find my path again.

 So you traced the unicorn tracks with your eyes as you continued walking away from your original path. The tracks curved and led you deeper into the woods, further and further. It was a bit hard to see the tracks, but you could make them out enough to follow. You kept looking up to see where they might lead, and soon you saw another clearing. 

 Looking up, you saw a gap in the green blanket that covered most of the woods. The sky tinted orange, suggesting that the sun was beginning to set, you told yourself you still had a little time. In the clearing was unfortunately not a unicorn, though you lost the trail. You walked around the trail, and couldn't find the clearing. You did, however, find something laying in the grass.

 It was a long, pearlescent cone shape that spiraled. You gasped softly, realising what you had found. You crouched and picked it up. In your hand, much to your surprise and excitement, was a shed unicorn horn. “Wow!” You exclaimed to yourself.

 You stood up and admired the unicorn horn, not believing your luck. Then you got up and went back to the trail of hoof prints. The unicorn horn added a little bit of welcome weight to your basket. It was darker now, quicker than you expected. You barely made out the tracks. You kept walking, making sure to focus.

 Mostly. A few times, you stopped to pick an herb or mushroom you hadn't noticed before that you needed. That was fine, though. You knew where you were going. You'd get back before it was too dark.

 The tracks got harder and harder to see, until you could no longer distinguish between them and the natural variation of the ground's surface. You paused. You saw a familiar tree, and knew that this was where the tracks had turned. They turned left, on the way, right? So I should go left, I think…

 You were fairly certain you remembered correctly. You hoped you did.

 You went left. It was quite dark now, but you didn't need Lumos yet. The trees and other scenery looked familiar enough. You pressed on, feeling a little anxious to get back to that lavender patch now.

 You stopped for a moment to take a sip from your water bottle before continuing. I should be upon the lavender again pretty quick here. Yet, a few minutes later, you had not seen it. A few minutes later and doubt wormed its way in. I'm sure I just got the length of time wrong.

 Eventually though, you felt that it had been way too long since you took that turn. You should have seen the lavender patch by now. It was dark now, the slivers of sky you could see were a darker blue, almost night. You stopped dead in your tracks, and pulled out your wand. “Lumos.” You whispered, and the tip of your wand illuminated the area around you.

 Turning in place, you took a moment to scan the radius of your surroundings. Everything looked familiar yet foreign at the same time. Your stomach dropped as you realised you probably made a wrong turn.

 You scanned the area again, desperate to see a glimpse of the castle or at least a landmark through some fine gap in the trees. You saw nothing. Nothing but trees that grew darker and more homogeneous in layers the further you looked. The sounds of insects beginning their nighttime chants and the growing chill of the air felt like a taunt from nature itself as you realised what situation you were now in. 

 You were lost.

Notes:

Oh no haha looks like *someone* has to save your ass haha

Chapter 10: In the weeds

 Neville was waiting in the library for you. It was 7:00 and you still hadn't shown up. He began to worry, tapping on the table. The library would close in thirty minutes, but if you weren't there in fifteen, he would assume you had gone to the woods and would tell a professor.

 He gave you some grace. Perhaps you were just running late, perhaps you'd gotten caught up in something. Neville kept an eye on the time, hoping that you would come in any second now. I feel bad treating them like they need to be monitored, but they really seemed like they weren't listening to how dangerous the forbidden forest is.

 He knew he was right to be worried when 7:20 came around and you still were not there. He got up and left the library. Neville jogged through the hallways, his concern for you making him forgo his rule-following nature to run in the halls.

 Neville knew who he needed to go to first. He arrived at Snape's office and knocked frantically at the door. “Sir, it's important!”

 Snape had been organizing old papers, throwing away things he no longer needed. When he heard the knocking, he sighed and grumbled at the thought of being interrupted. He slowly got up from his desk. Then he heard Neville's panicked voice and crossed the floor to his door quickly. He opened the door and stared down at Neville.

 “Longbottom. What could possibly be so vital that you had to interrupt me at this hour?” Snape said, a brow cocked up.

 “It's Y/N, they were trying to get ingredients for a potion…” Neville began explaining, keeping your reasons for your adventure vague. He didn't want to spoil your gift, even now. “...And they went into the forbidden forest.”

 Snape felt his heart sink to the floor. His dark eyes filled with worry and he abruptly put his hands on Neville's shoulders, almost shaking him. “When!?”

 “I don't know, I saw them last at dinner. They…they were supposed to meet me in the library thirty minutes ago.” Neville explained with a slight stutter due to Snape's intensity. Snape let go of Neville, much to his relief.

 “Go. Go tell Dumbledore immediately. I'll start searching…” Snape ran past Neville, leaving his office door wide open and hastily grabbing his winter cloak. Neville obeyed, running in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

 Snape ran, his footsteps rapid and hard upon the floor, then upon the grassy path outside. He casted Lumos Maxima, and stepped up to the treeline. He wanted to just tear into the forest and call out your name, but he was a smart man. He knew that could only get himself lost too.

 Snape waited for what felt like an eternity. He was relieved to see Dumbledore and Hagrid approach. Dumbledore's magic and Hagrid’s knowledge of the woods would save you. After a brief deliberation, the search began. 

 The three men entered the woods, and began to call for you. “Y/N! Stay where you are, but call back if ye can hear us!” Hagrid's voice bellowed.

 “Y/N, where are you, child?” Dumbledore called.

 Snape attempted to call out too, but his voice caught. He couldn't manage to say a word, with the knot in his throat. Please let them be alright. Please…

 Meanwhile, you were getting more and more terrified. Logically, you knew to stay put so that you could be found if anyone was searching for you. Fear has a nasty effect on the mind, though. It impairs sense. It blurs your thoughts.

 You tried to stay in one area, but you heard a noise. If it was daylight, you would have recognized it as a small animal skittering through a bush, or a bird's wings brushing against leaves as it flew past. However in the dark of the winter evening, the race of a squirrel became the step of some stalking creature.

 That small noise sent your feet into a frenzy. You ran through the trees, desperate to get away from the imaginary monster that rustle had manifested. You scraped against bark and jumped over a fallen log, but your ankle was caught on an unearthed, arched root and you fell forward.

 Your hands shot out to catch you and you landed on damp ground. Your ankle hurt. You scrambled to sit with your back against the nearest tree. As you processed the fall, and the sound that caused it, you felt foolish. It was probably nothing, and now I'm even more lost.

 You felt the soreness in your throat rise to your eyes. You checked your ankle while your vision blurred. Your ankle hurt a little, but you didn't think it was broken. You looked around, and saw how dark it was even with your Lumos boosted to Lumos Maxima. You cried into the night, a frightened wail.

 You sobbed into your arms which were crossed on your knees. Your mind was not built to process this situation, and you began to spiral. I'm going to die, I'm going to die…please someone find me, please someone save me…

 You felt the familiar beginnings of a meltdown, your breathing getting faster. You were overstimulated and afraid. The cold, the dampness of the ground underneath you, the darkness. Your ears may have been the only sense not hammered right now in a technical sense, but the silence around you was so loud.

 Snape was becoming more and more terrified for you. His grip on his wand was almost enough to snap the wood, and he still couldn't find his voice to join Dumbledore and Hagrid in calling for you. He could hear Hagrid's directions, and he followed them automatically.

 Snape's eyes were darting around with desperation as he followed the towering Hagrid and Dumbledore. The shadows teased him with every shift, and every bush seemed to laugh at him when for just a moment they resembled you. These woods were his enemy for the time being, a twisted nemesis who had stolen something precious.

 The group encountered a clearing with a patch of lavender, and Hagrid pointed out where a bunch had been picked. It was a sign of you, a glimmer of hope. Yet, Snape couldn't take it as a victory. He couldn't take anything as a victory besides seeing you safe.

 Snape had never felt more helpless in his life. Anything could have happened to you. You could have been snatched up by a monster, you could have slipped on ice and hit your head, you could have- Stop it, Severus. They're okay. They have to be.

 He clued back in. Hagrid was explaining how it wouldn't get cold enough for you to freeze. Dumbledore agreed. Snape wasn't so sure, but he decided to believe it. Hagrid was blathering on and on, but Snape felt grateful for it. It was helping somehow. 

 “Yep, they'll be alright. We'll find them soon enough. Couldn't have gotten far…” While Hagrid was talking, Snape thought he heard something. “They're fine, I'm sure of it. Don't look so frazzled, Severus-”

 “Sh.” Snape said, trying to listen.

 “Oh, you know he means well-” Dumbledore said. Snape cut him off, too.

 “Sh. I heard something.” Snape said. Silence fell as all three men listened. It was hard to hear, rather faint, but there. A quiet sobbing sound coming from the left of them. Snape moved quickly, breaking out in a sprint before the other two could say anything. “Y/N!” He found his voice.

 Snape ran in the direction he heard you. The closer he got, the louder your sobs became. He saw you sitting against the tree, in an area of fallen branches, dandelions, and invasive weeds. His knees thudded against the ground as he instantly took you into his arms.

 You had heard him run and heard his voice calling out to you, and you looked up just in time to see him appear in front of you. You lunged forward as he grabbed you, meeting him halfway. You broke down, crying while burying yourself in his chest. He took his cloak off and pulled it around you, and you were covered in warmth.

 “Y/N…thank Merlin…” Snape whispered. You noticed that he was using your first name, which he didn't normally do. His arms were around you, holding your shoulder with one hand while the other hand pressed against your back. He couldn't help himself, and his lips peppered your hair with kisses.

 He soon pulled away just enough to look you over. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

 You were still overwhelmed, and a little bit flustered. “My ankle…I tripped over a root…” You explained. Snape tried to help you to your feet, and you winced. He swiftly changed course, hooking an arm under your knees and the other one around your shoulders as he hoisted you up. You held your basket on your stomach with one hand, your other one found Snape's shoulder. You were certain you were blushing.

 Dumbledore smiled with relief, although there was an odd twinkle in his eye. Hagrid sighed with relief as well, then he returned to his duty as a guide. “Come on, let's get back to the castle. Gotta get that ankle patched up.” Hagrid walked in front of the group and Dumbledore flanked. Snape was in between, carrying you.

 You felt terrible. You had wanted to do something nice for Snape, to show how grateful you were for his help and support. Yet here you were, needing him to come save you. Again. You whimpered, feeling absolutely pathetic.

 “You’re safe now, everything is okay. I've got you.” Snape whispered to you. You clung a little closer to him.

 You shivered when the three of you entered the castle. Dumbledore was satisfied that you were safe and left, trusting Snape to take you to Madame Pomfrey. Hagrid was no longer needed and was also satisfied that you'd be okay, and he left too. Snape carried you in silence to the hospital wing.

 In the hospital wing, you were placed on a bed. Madame Pomfrey checked your ankle, palpating it gently. She determined it was just a mild sprain. You just needed it wrapped, and a potion to speed healing.

 While Pomfrey tended to your ankle, putting it in a compression wrap, Snape was sitting silently nearby. He was calmed down from the fear of you being in danger, and was now rather upset with you. You had entered the forbidden forest, without telling a single soul no less. He knew you were stubborn, prone to distraction or lapses in judgment. 

 He also knew it wasn't your fault. You were autistic. This meant many things, including struggling with social cues, processing information differently, and more. That is precisely what was frustrating him at the moment, though. You yourself were aware of what you had trouble with, and yet you still did this on your own.

 Pomfrey finished up and you were good to go. You walked out of the hospital wing, leaning on Snape for support. He was very quiet as he walked you to your dormitory. He didn't say a word until you arrived.

 “Y/N…” Snape said quietly. You detected a tension in his voice. You looked up at him. He looked very serious, and his jaw was very tight. 

 “Yes?” You braced yourself to be scolded. You didn't expect what he did, though.

 Snape grabbed you by the shoulders, a little harsher than he probably intended, and shook you. His voice was loud, too loud, as he yelled at you. “HOW COULD YOU GO INTO THOSE WOODS?!”

 You felt your ears pound with the sudden raise in volume. It hurt.

Notes:

I feel like sometimes Snape is too OOC in this, any feedback on that is appreciated 😮‍💨 although unfortunately I've already written nearly the whole thing for a backlog...but I do intend to write another, longer fic in the future 👀

Chapter 11: Root Rot

Notes:

Snape: Are you fucking stupid?
Me: 🧍

I made some adjustments to this chapter after some feedback on the last one. I still feel like this conflict arc is not very well written though, sorry...I hope it's my imposter syndrome and that the quality is not as poor as I think.

 Snape was yelling at you. His barking felt like impact after impact to your eardrums. You stared at him with wide eyes, at a loss. You were frightened by the intensity, pained from the volume, and upset that you had made him upset with you. He was probably not as loud as your mind processed it, but regardless, the effect was the same.

 “That was completely idiotic! I cannot fathom how you could be so stupid!” Snape's voice was rising and falling in intensity and he shook you with each emphasised word, which made the louder moments worse. You couldn't respond as he just kept going and you were getting more upset.

 You stepped back as he continued to grip your shoulders. There were tears in his eyes on the precipice of falling, but yours were already dripping down. You tried to whisper apologies just to make him stop shouting at you. “I'm sorry…I'm sorry…”

 He didn't seem to hear, or just didn't care. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have died! If you had…if anything had…” He started to trail off as his imagination made him choke up. After that brief reprieve, he started up again. This time, he leaned closer, which made his volume unbearable. “How moronic could you be-!”

 Snape stopped all at once when he saw you flinch and step out of his hold, your hands quickly pressing against your ears to block him out. His yelling had sent you into another overload and you were trembling. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Did that feel good, Severus? To frighten them like that? He scolded himself.

 Snape stepped back. He knew he had acted in the heat of the moment, out of fear for your safety and frustration with how you went about this. He was still angry, and gritted his teeth as he put distance between you. He just wanted you to understand, but he knew he needed to cool off. “...Go to bed.” He mumbled.

 You opened your eyes but stared downwards with bitter tears creating tiny puddles on the floor. Him ordering you to go to bed was the final straw after the overstimulation of being yelled at. You wanted to yell back, I am not a child! You couldn't make yourself speak, though.

 Professor Snape walked away. You stayed there even as he turned a corner and disappeared. After a few more moments, you entered the common room and went to your dormitory. You removed your shoes, placed your basket under your night stand, and changed, then got into bed and tried to cry silently, which you were quite skilled at.

 Your mind was so active, but you fell asleep in a shorter amount of time than one would expect due to sheer exhaustion. You had gone from excited to pursue a project, to create a gift for the professor you…

 I don't want to acknowledge my feelings for him right now.

 …You had gone from excited to create a gift for someone, to terrified and lost, to relieved by being found and safely in his arms, to this. Hollered at and reprimanded like a disobedient child. It felt condescending.

 It had been a stupid thing to do. However, you didn't need him to tell you that. You needed comfort. Beyond that, though, you didn't want Snape to think you were dumb or be mad at you.

 The gift you had been planning to give him could now be sullied by this event. He was angry with you. You had ruined everything. By now, you knew for certain that he didn't think you were too weird, or annoying. You thought he didn't think you were stupid either. Yet, he had called you just that, multiple times.

 The way you had made him feel resulted in him aggravating your sensory issues with sound, and insulting your intelligence. That was a fact. Maybe he's not who I thought he was.

 You had points taken away. No detention was given, as the professors thought the fear and dangerous ordeal you experienced was punishment enough. They were satisfied that you would not do anything like that again.

 The next day, you attended potions like usual, but carried with you the tension of the previous night. Instead of looking up at Snape, listening closely to every word and being happy to be there, you kept your head down and took your notes. You did the bare minimum to do well. Snape noticed this, how you avoided making eye contact and didn't grace him with your smile once.

 When the class was brewing their potions, Snape didn't linger at your station like usual, nor did he give you any words of affirmation about how well you were doing. You glanced up at him and back down towards your bubbling cauldron when he walked past and gave your work a passing look.

 In herbology, Neville spotted you looking quite glum as you retrieved your plant from the shelf. “Hey, what's wrong?”

 You looked at him and tried to explain. “...He yelled at me when he took me back to my dormitory.”

 “Oh. I mean, don't take this the wrong way but…I'd be surprised if he didn't.” Neville was honest. You couldn't fault him for that.

 “I know I deserved to be condemned, but he was really harsh…a little scary. And…he called me stupid multiple times.” You ran your finger over the rim of your Sopophorous plant's pot. “He was so loud, knowing very well how it affects me.”

 “He was scared.” Neville replied, his voice was a bit quieter, emphasising his point. “I'm sure he didn't want to upset you, even though what he said was not okay. Trust me, I wouldn't defend him freely like this unless I was sure.”

 You didn't say anything else. Of course Snape was scared. So was Neville, and so was Hagrid. The only one who might not have been was Dumbledore, he probably knew you'd be fine with some uncanny certainty. Besides him, everyone was scared. Being scared isn't an excuse to throw around cruel words and shout like that, I don't think.

 Your mood was further ruined as you looked at your plant and noticed that the bottom of its stem was blackened. It had too much give when you pressed your finger against it. You regretted poking it instantly as the feeling was kind of slimy. You flinched and grimaced, it was an awful sensation.

 Desperate to rid yourself of the unpleasant feeling of plant slime on your finger, you found the nearest sink and turned on the water. You washed your hands, and felt very disappointed. After all my hard work, my Sopophorous beans might never grow…

 After you washed your hands in the greenhouse sink, you took your plant up to Professor Sprout. “Professor? My plant…I think it's dying.”

 “Dying, is it? Well, I'll be the judge of that.” She said with her fists on her hips, a bell on the end of her pointy hat jingling. “Let me just take a look at ‘im…” Sprout took your plant from your outstretched hands. She scrutinized the sorry Sopophorous.

 You watched with bated breath, hoping that something could be done. “Well?”

 “Yup.” Sprout nodded and sighed. “It's root rot. You've been over watering it, haven't you? You'll need to treat it…” She trailed off, reaching above your head to a cupboard. She opened it and pulled a small bottle with an eyedropper. “...With this potion. Once a day for a week should do it.”

 “Thank you…so, I just gave it too much water?” You asked to confirm.

 “Yep, common issue. People think their plants need more water than they do. But too much attention isn't quite how you love a plant, see? Balance is important.” She said in a maternal tone. You understood. You'd be more careful in the future.

 You didn't attend to your assistant duties for the next few days, and you didn't hear anything from Snape about it, which made you feel even worse. 

 Sulking in the library one day that week, you found yourself wishing he would come find you. You could go talk to him, of course, but that would mean admitting you were wrong. Petty? Yes, but you were still unhappy about how he treated you.

 Maybe he doesn't want me to be his assistant anymore. You were not paying any attention to your book. You'd never been in this sort of situation before and it was quite stressful. You turned the page of your book, after scanning the page with no effort to comprehend the content. As you read, or traced the words absentmindedly with your eyes, an internal war raged between two opposing voices in your mind.

 You're being melodramatic. Just go tell him you were wrong and he was right. 

 But he disregarded your problems with noise and insulted you!

 He had a momentary hiccup, I'm sure he regrets it.

 Don't you recall how he commanded you to go to bed? He sees you as a kid who needs to be minded.

 It felt like Snape had just suddenly changed, that a little too much stress had made him be cruel to you. You were then distracted from your thoughts by Neville coming in to meet you. You forced a smile. “Hi, Neville.”

 “You still look upset.” Neville sat next to you.

 “I am, but I don't want to bother you with it. It's my issue, not yours.” You shrugged. Neville did not appear convinced.

 “You're my friend.” He said simply. You smiled more genuinely, feeling comforted by his support.

 “Okay…well, here it goes then.” You took a deep breath and started to tell Neville how you felt. “I feel like Snape just…became different. He never talks to me like that, and he always keeps his volume low for me. He understands what I struggle with, and he's so graceful and composed. So when he yelled at me, it was like I was dealing with someone unfamiliar and it scared me…”

 Neville took in your words and took a bit of time to break it down in his mind. One thing Neville could relate to was looking up to someone that you thought was infallible. He had seen Harry Potter as an idol of sorts, and though he definitely didn't relate to the romantic feelings you had for Snape, he could understand this specific issue.

 Neville gave you a new perspective. “Don't you think you've built him up too much in your head? I know from personal experience, that's not very healthy.” 

 “Maybe…but it's hard not to when he's been so amazing towards me.” You replied, tilting your head in thought.

 “He's still a human, though. And humans aren't perfect. He made one mistake in the heights of emotion, you know? Also, you remember how he used to be in our earlier years, right?” Neville argued.

 He had a good point. Snape wasn't perfect. You knew that. You recalled your earlier years at Hogwarts, the way Professor Snape would burst into the room, get the class’s attention with loud noises. The way he would call students morons and imbeciles. You remembered that initially, he had treated you with skepticism, probably assuming you were not very clever.

 Snape struggled with biases that he had worked to overcome. He was often irritable, and lacked tactful approaches with struggling students despite the efforts you had seen from him to change. He was not perfect. 

 “...Oh.” You said softly, coming to a couple of conclusions.

 “Yeah?” Neville saw that you had just had a thought.

 “You're right. He's flawed…but so am I.” You saw your own flaws, your tendencies to be stubborn, to do reckless things, and more. He had a tendency to pick apart people's flaws without mercy, demanding perfection from others in addition to himself. It was not his best quality to be sure.

 “Does knowing he's a human being change how you feel?” Neville smiled. He was half joking, trying to be lighthearted, but it was a valid question.

 “No, I still have the same feelings for him. I just don't like what he did.” You smiled too, answering with zero hesitation. You understood now what you'd been doing wrong. You had lacked balance, and put Snape on a pedestal. “Thanks for the advice, Neville. You really helped a lot.”

 You and Neville went on to discuss how you could patch things up with Snape. Ultimately, you knew that one thing you wanted to do, in addition to actually talking to the man, was to finish that gift of yours. You'd give it to him to let him know things could be repaired, and you'd explain how he had hurt you.

Chapter 12: Infested

Notes:

This is Snape's side of the week in the previous chapter, just in case it's confusing.

 On Snape's side of that week, he was in a foul mood. He snapped at people, and mostly ignored student questions altogether. During your class, he asked zero questions for students to test their knowledge during the lecture. He didn't want to see your hand pop up, let alone hear any of your well thought out answers.

 He could see that you were less enthusiastic than usual, and it sent a stone of guilt down to his stomach. You wouldn't look up at him. You would usually have one elbow propped up on the surface of the desk, and your chin in your hand or your hand fighting with one of your ‘stim toys’ as you took in every single word. Snape didn't see you use any though, which suggested to him that you didn't care to make sure you were focused.

 Snape wanted to sit down with you to say he was sorry. He did not, instead opting to simmer in grouchiness. His face became fixed in a sour frown, and his tone during class was dry but lacked its usual bite. For your classmates, it was a welcome change.

 He notably avoided your station, only passing it once out of obligation. He glided by and let his gaze pass over the surface of your potion, noting the quality of your brew. Your potion was perfect, not that he expected anything else. 

 He continued to each station like clockwork, not spending more time than necessary in any one place. Each mistake made was met with a half-hearted correction that lacked but, but also lacked any real value in terms of assistance. “Too many caterpillars.” He grumbled. “Wrong colour.” He sighed.

 The students almost felt bad, even though they were glad to be spared of any harsher criticism. It wasn't that he was gentler, like he had become over the past few years, it was more that he had been stripped of both fire and ice. They didn't know why, but Snape seemed rather pathetic at the moment.

 Duty calls, though. Snape trudged onward through the day with a mopey energy about him that had flashes of irritability if anyone bothered him. People, even other professors, gave him a wide berth. He felt like everyone was too loud and annoying, that the usual white noise of students laughing and talking in the halls was unbearable. He soon found solace in his office, however.

 The door shut behind Professor Snape and his ears felt quenched of their thirst for silence. For once, he almost thought he felt like you did when overwhelmed with sound. No, this isn't how they feel. They feel far worse. He went to his desk and sat. You mucked it up, Severus, just like you do with everyone you care for.

 There was paperwork to do. He shuffled around some papers until he found the ones he needed. He dipped his quill into ink and started. It was planning for the next test, using an old one that he was making notes on to change questions for when he created the new test.

 The only problem was that you were supposed to come in and assist him. He hoped you would. He wasn't surprised when you did not. You probably thought he was going to shout at you again. What did they truly expect? That I would passively forgive the way they put themselves in harm's way?

 Snape held his head in his hands and sighed deeply. He regretted raising his voice at you so severely, and hurling those insults at you. At the same time, you had been very, very wrong to try and traverse the forbidden forest alone without telling anybody. He thought you were better than that, and couldn't parse how you would do something like that just to gather ingredients for a potion.

 He couldn't shake his pride. Even if I was harsh, I was correct, he decided. He shook off the guilt, and on the surface of his mind it worked. In the back of it though, it burrowed and built a nest. 

 Snape turned the page of his stapled paperwork and ripped it with how rough he was. He rolled his dark eyes at himself, and repaired it with a quick charm. He had grown accustomed to your presence after his teaching hours were up each day, and to be without it was really quite vexing.

 No. It wasn't your absence that was vexing, it was you. So stubborn, so baffling. You had all the brilliance of a potion master, and yet sometimes you did the most reckless things. If you would just stop and think…

 Snape tossed his paperwork down on his desk and sighed. Funny, the way your humming, fidgeting and tapping once distracted him so, yet now without it he could not complete even the simplest of tasks. 

 His mind wandered as he contemplated this, the fact that you were missing from his space, and how it troubled him. You were so different from him. He thrived on responsibility and duty, you thrived on interest and passion. He was hardened and harsh and you were soft. Soft, sensitive, yet clever and capable. You were like warm daylight to his frozen night.

 Snape needed that softness, that sensitivity, and that intelligence. The very sensitivity he had neglected to consider when he had raised his voice at you, and ignored the way you covered your ears in pain for too long. The very intelligence he had defamed that you were likely used to being doubted.

 Snape remembered how it felt every time he held you, how you looked every time you smiled at him. He recalled every conversation that brightened up his day, every lesson he taught you, and every one he learned from you. He needed that light. He loved that light. He loved…

 Snape shook his head as if to shake out his thoughts. Get it together. They will come back tomorrow, or the next day. He had faith that you'd get over this and come back, and he would apologize. Everything would be back to how it should be, with you working by his side.

 You did not, in fact, come back tomorrow, or the next day. The feeling of guilt festered within Snape's heart, the nest became rife with it. Like an infestation. An unwelcome thing he could not ignore.

 Three days. Three days you had not shown up for your assistant duties and he knew it was, in part, his fault. He had to fix it. He knew where he would find you. The library, of course. He set off with a plan to apologize for how he'd upset you, impress upon you the seriousness of what you had done, and rebuild common ground.

 Snape moved through the halls like a bullet. He was like a sword, and anything in his path could be flayed. The youth he passed by were all used to these sorts of pathways through the halls he would occasionally take. It was like he was being pulled along on a string attached to whatever his destination was, and he had no choice but to plow through any obstacles.

 There was no reason to plow through anything or anyone though, as students parted for him the way the red sea parted for Moses. They were repelled like magnets pointed at each other on identical poles. They knew he probably would not trample them if they didn't move fast enough, but the younger ones couldn't be sure, for they still held an almost mythical idea of Snape's cruelty.

 He entered the library on a mission to speak with you and make amends. He scanned the room for you, and soon spotted you at a table sitting next to Neville. If Longbottom wasn't there, he'd rush over and embrace you and…what was that? A large object was on the table. It looked like some kind of piece of furniture.

 Yet again, you were doing something odd. It was grounding. Relieving, even, to see that you were not entirely obscured by how you felt about the situation. But seriously, what was that thing?

 A few more quick strides and he could see what it was. A smaller black shelving unit with wooden drawers, each drawer labeled with the name of an herb or ingredient used in potions. On each drawer as well, you and Neville were sticking one of your pressed flowers as decoration.

 It must have been some kind of organisational system for ingredients, and every label was of something found in the area. Snape stopped dead as he heard you speak to Neville and he realised what this was.

 “I hope this gift will make things right with him…”

Notes:

Will I ever be satisfied with my writing? That's a secret I'll never tell... 👀😮‍💨

Chapter 13: New Growth

Notes:

I've finished writing all the chapters for this fic, so I'll update it almost every day now, probably? I can start my more ambitious project now...yippee :)

 Snape saw you sitting with Neville, sticking pressed flowers onto the drawer of the desktop storage unit with a clear glue of some kind. He stood there in silent awe. You were making this for him. You'd purchased this piece of furniture, probably painted it black as he could see the brush marks, and were customising it further with labels and decorations. He made out the labels as all local ingredients in alphabetical order.

 You knew him too well. You knew he loved organizational systems. This was also clearly for his own personal use, not for his teaching. He waited until you were finished gluing down one pressed flower before he spoke. “Longbottom. L/N.”

 You jumped, startled by his low voice. You turned and tensed up when you saw him. “Oh…hello, sir.”

 Snape noticed your tension. He stepped forward and spoke in a quiet, unarmed voice. “What are you too up to?” He inquired with a level of casualness that confused you and infuriated him, he wanted to get to the point of this interaction as soon as possible.

 Your confusion gave way to a sense of franticness as you realised he was seeing the gift you were making for him. You stood up and tried to cover it, removing your uniform’s cloak and holding it up. Neville, ever supportive, joined you. “Nothing!”

 Snape nearly chuckled at how concerned you were with him witnessing your activity. He adjusted his sleeves as he spoke again, still with a casual air. “Hm. Is that so? Nothing at all?”

 “Yes, nothing!” You replied.

 Snape smirked and stepped closer. “I highly doubt that-”

 “Go away!” You blurted out by accident.

 Snape's eyebrows rose. He was amused in spite of himself, but tried to appear stern. He stared down at you, and you knew he was waiting for you to rephrase what you said. Your cheeks warmed.

 “I mean…” You regained composure and presented your thoughts properly. “I know we need to talk, but can we do so later? After dinner?”

 Professor Snape really didn't want to wait, but he could. He bowed his head once. “Please come to my office after dinner, then.” He then turned and you watched him go.

 Once Snape was out of sight you exhaled and lowered your cloak, as did Neville. Both of you sat back down and continued working. Carefully, you placed the final flower onto the final drawer. Finished, right? Not so. “Okay, time to seal it.”

 You opened a plastic bottle of something. Neville frowned as he read the label. “What is…Mod Podge?”

 “It's a muggle thing. It will coat the drawers and shelf to seal in the flowers and paint, protecting them from damage. Here, take some. Only paint on a thin layer, please.” You directed him.

 While you painted on the coating, you discussed the encounter you'd just had with Snape. Neville believed that the conversation would go well. You weren't sure what to think. This conflict might have been singular in incident, but it had caused a great shift in your mindset towards how you engaged with your feelings for Snape.

 No longer did you want to seek his support in terms of dependency, but you sought a collaboration. You wanted to be someone he could rely on, too. Not only that, but you had a more complete image of him in your mind. More complexity, and hopefully more to appreciate.

 You hoped your chat with him would go well…

 Neville and you finished up with the shelf and you shrunk it down to put it away in your dormitory. It was almost done, you just needed to stock it. After dropping it off, you went to the Great Hall for dinner. 

 You sat in your usual spot and could feel Snape's eyes on you. You glanced up at the staff table and saw him already looking at you. He didn't look away upon your gaze meeting his, which made you feel a little shy. You looked down at your food and picked at it. Stop staring at me, You thought.

 He didn't stop. It was kind of bothersome, actually, because you couldn't tell what the stare meant. Snape was hard to read at the best of times, but right now it was borderline impossible. He was just…looking at you. Eventually you gave him a pointed look and he turned his eyes down toward his food in an almost sheepish way, which made you feel less uncomfortable and you had to stifle a giggle.

 After dinner, you decided you might as well go check on your plant, if Sprout was still in the greenhouse. You knew you had to go talk to Snape, but…surely he wouldn't mind waiting just a few minutes, right? If he did, you'd just explain that you made a stop.

You went to the internal entrance to the greenhouse, the one accessible from inside the castle. You stepped up to it and knocked. “Come in!” Sprout said.

 You entered. Sprout was standing by the central table, putting on gloves. She turned and picked up a pair of pruners. There was a plant in the table that looked to be overgrown and wild, its vines moving erratically. Moving plants was something you never got used to. Especially when they had to be tended to.

 You almost winced when Sprout chopped off a part of the plant. The piece she cut off went slack, but the limb it was cut from continued to wriggle. I hope plants can't feel pain.

  Sprout looked at you with a pleasant smile on her face. “What brings you here so soon after dinner?”

 “Just checking on my plant.” You said, then turned to the shelf it sat on.

 “It's almost completely cleared up from that root rot, the treatment is working nicely. Just remember not to over water it again.” Sprout said. Your observations confirmed her words. Your Sopophorous plant looked better, almost no brown was on the stem that indicated root rot. Not only that, but you saw the oblong drip of two bean sprouts that were developing. You smiled. They were still pending, but present nonetheless. “Those sprouts should be ready within a couple of weeks.” Sprout said.

 You were very satisfied. You thanked Sprout for letting you look, and went on your way. Time to go talk to Snape. You made your way through the halls. You turned into the staircase down and descended, feeling the air get colder as you entered the familiar, darker space.

 You walked past the potion classroom. You also walked past Snape's office. Or at least you tried to.

 He must have had the most uncanny hearing you'd ever known, because you heard his voice from inside his office. “Come in.” He said. Had he actually heard your footsteps moving past? You gave a resigned breath.

 You turned the handle and pushed in the door, opening it. Stepping into the room, you saw Professor Snape sitting at his desk with a chair pulled up for you already, also behind his desk, next to him. He peered at you with his endlessly deep eyes. You saw that on his desk was the raven-carved obsidian stirrer on his desk with its open box next to it, as if he had taken it out to admire it before you arrived.

 The candlelight flickered, making shadows and tinted light dance along Snape's form and cloak as he got up. Instead of waiting for you to come to him, he met you in the middle of the room. He hovered a hand behind your shoulder to guide you. “You dawdled.” He said softly.

 You didn't answer, he was right of course. You followed his lead and stopped behind his desk, then sat in the chair he set for you. Snape took off his cloak and draped it over his chair before he, too, sat down. He sat with his ankles crossed. You built yourself up and spoke.

 “I'm sorry I went into the forbidden forest. It was…very stupid.” You said. Snape's expression relaxed. He was glad you started.

 “It was a very foolish thing to do.” He replied. You looked down, your expression solemn and your lips tight with shame. Snape continued. “However, it was wrong of me to call you stupid, rather than your actions.”

 “...Thank you for saying that. It felt…really bad. I thought that's how you really thought of me.” You admitted, looking up at him. Snape shook his head and your breath stuttered as he reached out and patted your hand.

 “No, I don't think you're stupid. You're brilliant. I'm sorry I made you feel like I believed otherwise.” He said before pulling his hand away.

 You then tried to explain further how he had made you feel. You wanted to be honest and communicate clearly. It was difficult though, to assert yourself that way. “It…also hurt me the way you yelled so loud. It felt like you were disregarding my sensory issues.”

 Snape paused, remembering how you had covered your ears and shut your eyes as he shouted and shook you. His grip had been tight, too tight. He had ignored your distressed reaction for too long. Snape felt a tingle in the back of his throat that solidified into a rock. 

 His voice came out more like a whisper. “I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking of…I neglected to consider how my reaction to your actions would affect you. Yelling didn't help, I should know that.” Snape then recalled how he had commanded you to go to bed after yelling at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, disappointed with himself. “...I also should not have ordered you around after making you so upset.”

 You didn't want him to feel bad for being worried or scared. “Your feelings were valid, though. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have been angry at me, I just…” It was hard to put into words.

 “I wasn't angry at you, I was…afraid.” Snape said. He leaned forward in his seat to emphasize his next words. “You must understand, what you did was incredibly reckless. I intended to tell you as much, however it didn't come across as I meant it.”

 You understood. “What I did was worse, wasn't it? You upset me, but I could have died out there…”

 A shiver ran up Snape's spine as, without his consent, the image of your body laid out among snow and trees was conjured in his mind. “It doesn't matter what was ‘worse’. If anything happened to you, though, I would never be able to forgive myself. Please, promise me that you will never do something like that again.”

 “I promise.” You said. You decided to explain the thought process that guided you to your initial poor choice. “I wanted to find local herbs to stock that shelf you saw…it's a gift for you. You saw it already so I may as well tell you.”

 Snape smiled at you, a genuine smile. A rare treat it was, to see his dark eyes sparkle like that. “I did see. That's a very thoughtful gift, I look forward to it.” The thought of you working on a homemade storage system and stocking it yourself just for him warmed his heart. He had to get serious one last time, though. He manufactured an authoritative glare onto his face. “Never put yourself at risk for my sake again, though.”

 “Okay.” You smiled, hoping to placate him. “So…everything is okay?” You asked.

 “Almost.” Snape said. He could hardly believe himself as he spoke that single word, but he was acting almost on autopilot now. He felt like someone was behind him, pushing him towards you. He stood up, and so did you. “Y/N, I…” He cleared his throat, trying to seem cool and unshaken.

 “What?” You tilted your head. Snape started off slow, stepping closer and starting to reach out. He didn't want to move too fast and not give you a chance to reject his touch. You took the invitation immediately, your heart seeming to leap forward before your body.

 Snape caught you and held you close, his arms secured themselves around your waist as your arms settled around his shoulders. Snape relaxed as he had you in his arms, like his soul was sighing and releasing tension. There you are.

 You smiled and shut your eyes. “I'm so happy we're still friends!”

 At your cheerful exclamation, Snape almost swooned. He chuckled, a sound that made you laugh lightly too. His laugh was surprisingly infectious, and it made his chest vibrate a bit, low and warm.

 You had this way of lightening him, of softening him up. He could hardly understand it, but no matter how much of you he got, it was never enough. Snape lost his inhibitions and began swaying with you in his arms, almost like how you sway when standing still. He had missed you greatly, even though it had only been a few days since you spoke.

 You blushed as you felt a kiss press against your head. Then, the dust in the air itself seemed to cease its lazy floating, and you nearly gasped as Snape murmured near your ear…

 “I love you, I love you…”

Notes:

I think the gift worked, guys 😯

Chapter 14: The Fruits of Our Labour

Notes:

I'm a sucker for skipping "I like you" and going straight to the big one...

 You were completely frozen, and you felt like your heart itself was growing and expanding to beyond the span of your body. Love. He just said he loves you. Your head felt fuzzy.

 Snape stepped back and gently held your shoulders, searching your expression for any indication of how this made you feel. He felt very anxious. His mind was caught between terror and desperation, terror at the fact that he'd confessed something so vulnerable and desperation to receive any kind of response. The longer you went without saying anything, just looking dazed, the more he wished he hadn't said anything.

 You wanted to tell him you felt the same, but did you mean it the way he did? Just as Snape was starting to panic internally, you managed to whisper a question. “How…how do you mean?”

Your shy question broke some of the tension Snape had been holding, and an amused puff of air escaped him. “...I wasn't specific enough?” He inquired, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder.

 “No…I mean, I…” You tried to explain. “Do you mean it platonically or…romantically?”

 Snape was patient with you. Although he thought his meaning was obvious, he knew you struggled with social cues. “...The latter.” He glanced away and shifted on his feet. He took his hands off your shoulders, as much as he wanted to touch you and keep you close. Now that you knew he loved you romantically, his anxiety about your response was back.

 Your heart resumed its assault on your sternum. You wanted to cry and jump for joy at the same time. The smile that spread across your features could have taken Snape off his feet. Finally, your reply poured forth and you stepped forward, wanting to invite yourself into his arms again. “I love you too…!”

 Snape heard your reply and saw you step forward, and any semblance of stoicism left over left him. You saw something you never thought you would see. Tears streaming down Snape's face. His dark eyes were glittering with moisture, and the structure of his handsome face was striped with brine. He looked vulnerable, soft.

 You and Snape again met in an embrace, as if you could not remain separate for the life of you. This time, though, it was closer to you holding him rather than him holding you, as much as that could be the case anyway. He was still physically larger. You held his waist and your other hand sunk into his ebony hair. He wrapped his arms around you in turn.

 “You're crying…” Your heart ached as Snape's tears made your shoulder damp. He tried to hold them back, to blink them away and erase their existence. You felt him tense up and knew he was uncomfortable with such a vulnerable display. “Hey, it's okay, don't try to stop it.”

 “I have no reason to cry. I'm not upset.” Snape said, his cheek against your head.

 “You can cry when you're happy too, you know.” You stroked his hair. Unlike the perception the other students had, his hair was not greasy at all. It just looked very shiny. Your fingers detected only silky softness.

 “I am…” Snape lifted his head up, and his tone sounded surprised. His voice was awed and lifted, like he didn't quite believe that such a thing was possible. “I am happy.”

 Your heart soared to know he was crying tears of joy. You leaned in and nuzzled his chest, perhaps too aggressively. You just couldn't help yourself, acting on impulse. “Mm!” Snape chuckled, finding your aggression absolutely adorable.

 “Easy…” He whispered as you shook your head back and forth quickly against his chest. You stopped.

 “Sorry, I…I'm not used to showing or receiving affection like this.” You confessed.

 Snape could relate to that. He too, was unused to true tenderness or care. His arms tightened around you, and he placed one hand on your head. “You will be.”

 Eventually, you both let go of each other with reluctance. You sat in your separate seats, which were only a couple of feet apart but felt so much further. As much as you and Snape wanted to, you could not just spend the whole evening with your hands all over each other. Not yet, anyway. You had to talk about what this all meant, like mature adults.

 “So…does this mean we're together? A couple? You asked, your fingers twiddling with hope and a healthy dose of nerves.

 “Of course, if that's what you want, I would love nothing more in the world.” Snape said, a small smile never leaving his face.

 You were sent into a stimming session with how happy you were. Snape could only watch with a mixture of amusement, tenderness, and awed confusion. You stood up from your chair. You jumped up and down, shook your fists near your face, and shook your arms out. A trace of embarrassment passed through you, but was quickly erased when Snape whispered with admiration.

 “You're so happy…” He folded his hands in front of him, as though trying to stay put and not reach out to you, to allow you to continue with your excitement. He couldn't believe he could make you so happy. You began to calm down, taking a deep breath.

 “Sorry, I got excited.” You folded your hands and smiled sheepishly at him. Snape chuckled.

 “Don't apologize for that. You look so beautiful when you… ‘stim', is it?” Snape asked. You nodded to confirm he was correct about his terminology.

 “Thank you…” You were very flattered and touched. He thought your stims were beautiful. Not childish or annoying. Not awkward or off-putting. Beautiful.

 You talked about your feelings for each other, you figured out the logistics of how your relationship would work. Logistics, because that's how Snape framed it. He was very practical about things, it was rather amusing.

 Snape didn't want the entire school knowing about your relationship, not out of shame or embarrassment or anything like that. It was because he didn't want anyone to accuse you of giving him favors for a grade or something similar. You agreed, but your reason was the opposite, you didn't want people to see him as a creep despite the fact that you were an adult.

 You wouldn't hide it entirely though. Snape was adamant about telling Dumbledore, as he wanted to make sure it didn't look like you two were sneaking around. He added that Dumbledore would have no issue with your relationship, which made sense. Most headmasters would probably discipline Snape for getting involved with a student, regardless of age, however Dumbledore is odd to say the least. Hogwarts in general was sort of a wildcard when it came to magical schools.

 The final detail, of course, was planning your first date. It would happen on the upcoming Sunday. The two of you had a mock argument about who would treat who.

 Eventually, you looked at the clock. You were loath to find that it was nearly curfew. You frowned and deflated when you saw the time and pushed yourself up from your chair. “I have to go now.”

 Snape rose from his seat too. “Yes, you do.” He followed you to the door. Snape looked down at you, his eyes traced along your facial features as if to memorise every detail. He smiled faintly, a little reluctantly as he did not want you to go.

 You rose to your tiptoes and relaxed your lips, wanting to kiss his cheek. Snape just looked at you for a second, admiring how you looked when about to give affection. Then, he turned his head and closed the gap, allowing your lips to touch his cheek. You then lowered down again and he straightened up. 

 “Goodnight, Prof…um…” You hesitated. What should I call him now?

 “You can call me Severus when it's just us.” Snape said. You felt a sense of excitement at being able to call him by his given name. You wanted to try it right away.

 “Goodnight, Severus.” You said. You loved the taste of his name on your tongue, the syllables felt so right. Severus loved how his name sounded in your voice too, he reached out and took your hand, giving his goodnight wish to you by lifting your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles.

 “Goodnight, Y/ N.”

 With that, you left, and went to your dormitory to sleep. You took a while to fall asleep, over-excited from the events of the day. Severus was your last thought as you fell asleep, and the first one you had upon awakening. You were the same for him.

 Sunday afternoon came and you agonised over what to wear. You and Severus had planned to go to Hogsmeade and enjoy a beverage at the quietest place he could find, then go for a walk on the grounds and just talk. You didn't want to plan anything too strictly, so there was less pressure. Besides, neither of you were the type to like an elaborate dinner anyway for a first date.

 It was spring, so you wanted to wear something cool enough. But you absolutely had to look cute. You opened the trunk at the end of your bed and stared at what it contained.

 The blouse you chose was light and loose, easy to move in. It was a cream colour. You put on some light pants too, olive green to pay subtle homage to Slytherin. After quickly grabbing a bag with your wallet inside, you were ready to go.

 You forced yourself not to run in the hallway as you went to the castle exit Severus said to meet him at. Your feet struggled to maintain a speed below jogging as you traversed the hallways. The shoes you had chosen tapped with feeling against the smooth stone staircase up from the dungeons, the cool air like satin against your skin.

 I wonder what he'll be wearing…maybe a light sweater or button up? Black, of course. However, when you reached the door, you could have laughed.

 Severus was wearing the same sort of ensemble he always did.

 You smiled at him, amused and giddy. He looked you over as you approached and his face softened, he had been tapping his foot which ceased upon seeing you. “You look…” He tried to decide on the right word, frowning. “...Sweet.”

 “Sweet?” You tilted your head. Did he mean sweet as in ‘that was sweet, man', or did he mean you looked like you were sweet in temperament? Probably the second one.

 “Adorable, I mean.” Severus corrected himself, glancing to the side and shifting his stance. He was not used to showing affection openly with words. You blushed.

 “Thank you…you look handsome.” You said. Severus looked himself over, mentally chiding himself for not wearing anything special for you. He could not tell what about him you thought was handsome.

 “...I don't look any different.” He said flatly, although he was grateful for your compliment.

 “I know.” You said, standing next to him and taking his hand to prepare for the walk to Hogsmeade. “You always look handsome.”

 Severus smiled subtly and his hand tightened around yours almost imperceptibly. The walk began. Your hands stayed joined, quite tightly. Actually, Severus had sort of a death grip on your hand. His hand was locked around yours and squeezing, almost as if he was afraid you'd bolt. You didn't mind at first, but soon it started to feel uncomfortable.

 “Severus, you don't need to hold me hostage.” You laughed. He didn't respond, but you swore you saw his cheeks tinge pink as he loosened his grip. Your thumb drew a circle on his hand.

 Severus had chosen the quietest place he could that would still serve good drinks. He ordered a strong iced coffee with espresso. You ordered a warm butterbeer, of course. Ever since trying it for the first time you couldn't get enough. It was a lovely, cozy and casual date.

 Severus smirked at you when you got foam from your drink all over your nose. He gazed at you, looking smitten as you fumbled to quickly wipe your nose off with a napkin while blushing. You were embarrassed to get messy in front of him. You crumpled the napkin and looked at him, he sipped his drink and huffed in amusement.

 “What's so funny?” You pouted.

 “You.” He stated. “You don't need to be embarrassed about getting a bit of foam on your nose, silly mouse.”

 “Okay…” The nickname made you smile. You fidgeted with your bag, wondering if this was the right time to give him your gift or if you should wait. The sleeving unit was shrunken down in your bag. Severus noticed you fidgeting and was worried you were uncomfortable.

 “What is it?” He said dipping his head down slightly which made his hair close a centimeter more around his face like two curtains of black velvet, his eyes shining through it. They were tinted more brown than usual in this light, revealing themselves to not be quite pitch black but only very close.

 “Nothing.” You shook your head, letting him know that nothing was wrong. You returned to the conversation you were having before you had gotten the foam on your nose. “You mentioned you like classical music?”

 Severus smiled fondly. “I do. I am partial to the piano or strings. I…attempted briefly to learn how to play the piano.”

 This revelation excited you. You pictured Severus sitting in front of a piano, his nimble fingers dancing across the ivory keys, making beautiful music. His practiced, potioneer hands and observant eyes seemed perfect for the occupation of playing piano.

 “Really?” You hoped you could persuade him to play for you. He seemed to guess at your thoughts and spoke with a tone of cautious indulgence…

 “You may have the occasion to hear it, but I did not dedicate enough time to the craft for it to be a particularly moving performance.” Severus drawled, sipping his beverage. As he tipped his glass, the ice cubes within clacked together in an almost musical way.

 “I don't care if it isn't amazing, but you're probably better than you think.” You said. You took a big drink of your butterbeer, to which Severus shook his head as he set his half empty glass down.

 “How on earth are you drinking it warm during spring?” He asked.

 “It's more comforting this way. And I don't like how the condensation of very cold drinks in glass containers feels on my hands.” You explained. Severus nodded in understanding, filing that information away for future reference.

 After you finished your drinks, Severus insisted on paying despite your protests. The two of you left and began your walk around Hogwarts grounds. You slipped your hand out of his only to link arms. He gave you a satisfied grin as you tucked yourself against his side.

 The temperature was perfect, it was sunny. The fields were full of wildflowers. You pointed out each species you recognised and gave Severus a snippet of knowledge about them. He knew some of the facts, but he let you carry on, simply enjoying the sound of your voice. He'd chime in with his own facts from time to time.

 Eventually, you saw a tempting tree. It was perfect to sit under. “Let's take a break?” You asked Severus. He agreed and the two of you went to the tree and sat in the soft grass. You began to pick dandelions and twist them together.

 “Making a dandelion crown, are we?” Severus asked softly, crossing his arms and watching you. “Don't think for even one moment that I will don the thing.” He tried to appear stern.

 Your eyes shone with mischief as you continued to weave the yellow flowers together. “I think you'll look pretty. No one will see.” You tried to convince Severus. You really wanted to see him with it on.

 “You won't see it either, because it is not happening.” He raised his eyebrow, warning you.

 “Please?” You gave him a pleading look, trying to appeal to his affection for you. It was an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, though, and Severus stood his ground.

 “No.” He said.

 You finished the final twist on your crown and held it up to him in a silent request. He took it from your hands and you thought you had won, your face breaking out into a delighted smile. However, your smile turned into a dejected frown as Severus placed the dandelion crown on your head instead. “Hey…”

 Severus admired the way you looked wearing the crown. You looked like a forest nymph, bright and beautiful. How I love you…

 His wistful expression twisted into panic when you pulled the crown off your head and playfully lunged forward with intent to hat him. “Oh, you little…!” He moved his arms up to defend his ebony locks, at which point you stood up and reached over his arms to place the crown on his head.

 You were successful, and Severus sighed, giving you an unimpressed look as his arms crossed over his chest. He looked up at you and mumbled. “You're pleased with yourself, I imagine.” He looked very cute with the green and yellow wreath on his head and that grumpy expression.

 “Very.” You nodded. Severus looked around, and seeing that no one was around to bear witness, he held your waist just above your hips. You felt your stomach erupt in fluttering as he leaned in and kissed you just above the waistband of your pants. It was a bit less like a kiss and more like he was just pressing his face against you. 

 It felt very soft and comforting, but sent a slight heat through you as well. “Severus…” You kind of wanted him to stop, this kind of tingling warmth unfamiliar and almost intimidating. He sensed your tone and pulled back. His gaze stayed stuck to you as you sat back down in the grass next to him. 

 “I apologize, was that too much?” Severus asked you, his voice gentle.

 “Kind of. I'm not used to physical affection…” You admitted, looking away. You were embarrassed by what you were about to confess to, afraid of looking immature. “I've never even kissed anyone on the mouth.”

 Severus felt his heart thud against his ribcage as he processed your admission. A rush of various feelings moved through him. He was proud to have the chance of being your first, but anxious about the responsibility. One urge dominated his mind, however. I want to kiss them more than anything. He took a deep breath before the urge could overtake him, and he asked you “Would you like to?”

 You swallowed and pushed through your nerves to reply. “Yes…I would. I would like to…try kissing you.”

 Severus was very good at controlling himself, in every aspect of his life. However, he could not stop himself from moving towards you a bit faster than he should have. He cupped your cheek and felt a shiver of anticipation…

 “W-wait!” You panicked. He stopped, feeling a barely perceptible amount of frustration that his sensible mind immediately overwrote with concern. You explained your reason for stalling. “I'm…worried I'll do it wrong.”

 Severus chuckled. “Don't worry, my love, I'll take the lead. You will not do it wrong.”

 You took a breath. He held your cheek so gently, and his other hand took yours. He tilted his head slightly and moved in, his eyes locked onto your lips. You closed your eyes and tried to keep your lips relaxed. Severus took one more half second to commit this waiting expression of yours to memory before he closed the gap.

 His lips were very warm, and softer than you expected. He kept it chaste for your first kiss, but moved his lips against yours in a slow, languid caress. You lost yourself in it, the sensation of your sensitive lips molding against his, the closeness. Tentatively, you tried to mimic his motions. You wanted to whisper sweet nothings to him through your movements, the way he was to you right now. He felt you try, and his heart roared like a well-tended fire.

 After a few seconds that felt both eternal and altogether too short, the kiss broke with a soft sound that was almost a little ‘pop’. You looked into his eyes, a bit dazed. “...Wow…”

 Severus’s hand moved up from your cheek and into your hair. “Wow, indeed…” His expression was just as tender as it had been during your confessions of love, minus the tears. “Was it…a satisfactory first kiss?”

 “Satisfactory?” You were almost offended by his choice of words. “It was…perfect.”

 Severus wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close so that you were sat sideways in his lap. You leaned into the crook of his neck. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispered.

 “I love you too, Severus.” You answered, grinning like an idiot.

Notes:

Sorry if the slow burn hasn't been slow enough, but this fix is supposed to be more of a feel-good, easy romance type of vibe. My next one will decidedly not be that way. I just wanted this one to be sickeningly cute :)

Also! I might be overthinking this, but I want to be clear that Y/N isn't intended to come off as childish or infantilised. A lot of their traits are based on my own experiences as an autistic person, with some personality differences of course.

Chapter 15: Harvest

 You realised after your date with Severus came to a close that you hadn't actually given him his gift. You realised it before Herbology the next day, and Neville saw you stop next to him as you walked down the hallway and stare into space.

 “Oh nooo…” you said under your breath.

 “What's wrong?” Neville asked.

 “I forgot to give it to him…” You sighed, your shoulders slumping.

 “Oh.” Neville gave you a blank look. It wasn't a big deal to him. You could give it to him any time after all. You came to that conclusion too and pressed on to the greenhouse. You were disappointed to not have seen the look on his face as you gave it to him under the tree, it would have been a perfect romantic place for it. However, it was fine.

 You were glad when you entered the Herbology room, though, that you had not yet given Severus his organiser. You saw that your Sopophorous beans were ready for harvest. They were big and beautiful, a lovely lush green. Neville's had dropped off of his naturally and sat in the soil, but the timing was good enough that they were still fresh.

 You picked up your plant and smiled, showing Neville. “Bean time!” You exclaimed. He picked his up and examined his bean pods.

 Sprout approved you and looked approvingly at your plants. “Well, congratulations. You two are the first to produce healthy pods. Neville, you should be very proud, your plant was the most consistent grower and thrived even more than some of mine, may I say.”

 Neville beamed with pride. Better than Sprout? He was over the moon. You were proud of him too, and lightly elbowed him. Professor Sprout wasn't done yet, though. She turned to you. “...And you should be proud too, L/N. Your plant had a slow start, and some bumps in the road, but it's clear your love for it has paid off. Well done on being a perseverant caretaker.”

 She gave you both house points. You and Neville had permission to process your beans yourselves, as Sprout trusted you both. The two of you stood at a table, wearing gloves. You casted an immobility spell on the pods, so that when you split them the beans couldn't jump away. You cut them open, dragging a pruning knife across the line that signified the separation between the two halves. You pulled the two halves apart and used your fingers to pop out each bean, and put them in a little dish for now. Neville did the same.

 Once all the beans were harvested, you started to lay them on a paper towel. Then, you used a spell to dry them quickly. Drying them naturally was technically better, but that required having to cast the immobilization spell again each time it started to wear off. That was annoying. The jingly sound of hardened beans was heard as you picked the paper towel up and folded it like a funnel to pour them into a jar. You'd add them to a drawer in the shelf when you unshrunk it.

 After classes, you predictably made a beeline for Severus's office. You still knocked politely on the door. “Yes?” He said, sounding dry as always. However his expression immediately softened and he smiled upon seeing you when you walked in.

 “Hello, Severus.” You smiled and approached him as he stood up to greet you.

 “Darling…” He sighed, taking you into his arms. You saw that his eyes looked tired, dark bags under them. You had also noticed a massive stack of papers on his desk when you came in. You looked up at him as he held you.

 “You seem tired. Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested.

 Severus dismissed your concern. “No, I'm fine.” He placed a hand on your head. “I'm glad to see you, though.”

 “I forgot to give you your present on our date.” You said, looking downcast. Severus smirked at the mild shame on your face. He ruffled your hair, which made you pout. He could make you feel small so easily, not in a bad way. It made you feel taken care of.

 “There, there. Yes, forgetting something as important as a gift I already know about must be upsetting.” He teased.

 You looked up at him, unimpressed. “I wanted to make our date extra special by giving it to you then…”

 Severus felt his heart swell with affection. “It was extra special, because you were there.” He stepped back, letting you go. You missed being in his arms immediately. You opened your bag and took out the shelf with its drawers that were stocked. It was not wrapped, no point. He knew what it was.

 You set it on his desk, along with the jar of beans. You took out your wand to unshrink it without thinking. Severus took a few strides towards you, and placed a hand on yours that was holding your wand. “While I'm eager to see it at its proper size, I'd prefer the items on my desk to remain off the floor.” You blinked a few times, then recognized that if you had unshrunk the gift, most of the items on his desk would have been launched off in dramatic fashion.

 “Ah. Right.” You blushed. Severus shook his head with a half smile. As clever as you were, sometimes the smallest things slipped your mind. He let go of your hand and admired the gift anyway. Despite its small size, he could still read the labels. Alphabetical order, all local ingredients, each with a pressed flower on the label. For the ones where it was applicable, the pressed plant was the ingredient stored within that particular drawer. That was almost all of them, barring the fungi, unicorn horn, and a few other items.

 You told him why this is what you wanted to give him. “You like to organise things, so I thought you'd appreciate another thing to organise. And…I thought you might appreciate having all the ingredients you can find on the grounds in one place. Like a scrapbook of Hogwarts, with a purpose.”

 Severus appreciated it indeed. He turned to you. “You bought this, painted it and made the labels, and stocked it, just for me?” He had a soft, touched expression. His hands folded as if he wanted to reach out to you.

 “Yes.” You swayed side to side on your feet, an expression of happiness and contentment. “Maybe we can stick it together whenever it runs low, we could spend time foraging outside together…”

 It wasn't merely an object, but a promise of future time together. Severus's heart soared with love for you as he stepped forward and hugged you. He squeezed you firmly but gently, expressing his gratitude. “Thank you. I look forward to it.”

 “Me too.” You responded.

 Of course, Severus couldn't help but take the opportunity to lightly scold you. “I suppose I can take some comfort in knowing that your previous misadventure will result in spending more time with you…”

 You pulled away and stuck your tongue out at him for his teasing. He only raised a brow at you, but couldn't quite look stern enough. He looked back at his desk where the gift was, and where his work still sat, nearly forgotten.

 “I have papers to grade, would you like to help?” Severus asked.

 “Of course, it's still my job, right?” You beamed. Even if the two of you were together, you wanted to keep being his assistant. Severus nodded with a fond expression and you took a seat by his desk. Both of you began to work. You only took a break for dinner, and then returned to continue. There were a lot of assignments to grade.

 Time went by quickly as you worked alongside Severus. There were long silences broken up by bursts of conversation, words exchanged that were simple yet so valuable to you. He would remark on something like the over-salted ham at dinner, and you would say you tended to avoid ham due to the saltiness risk. Mundane, pointless exchanges like that. You relished their simplicity, the domesticity of the moment.

 The sun began to set before you were ready, and curfew was approaching. With your age, you might have had more leeway with the curfew, but you liked to go to bed at a certain hour anyway. You looked at the clock on Severus's desk. “I'd better go…”

 Severus followed your gaze to the clock. He felt contentment slip away and uncover disappointment. He set down his quill. There were still many papers and he'd be working for a while after you left. It wasn't the workload that bothered him, though. “I could…use my authority, and your adulthood, to justify you staying.” He suggested.

 “That's tempting, but I have to go to bed.” You opened your mouth, as if on cue, and yawned. Severus looked away and traces of pink appeared on his pale cheeks. He tapped his desk and made another suggestion.

 “I…have a bed.” He said softly.

 Your turn to blush. Your mind was filled with images of him next to you in a big, comfortable bed. His hands tracing your curves, his mouth printing heat onto your neck and shoulders. The way his eyes would darken even beyond their regular obsidian, marking you with his gaze as he prepared to mark you in a more tangible way…

 “I don't think…I am ready to share a bed.” You managed to respond, cheeks ablaze. You only just got together after all.

 Severus sighed, but he was not frustrated or too disappointed. He knew it was too early to share a bed, even just for sleep. His private wish was to hold you all night long, to fit himself behind you under the sheets and write his name on your skin with gentle kisses until the two of you fell asleep. He'd have his chance in the future. “Of course, that's alright.”

 You got up from the chair you had occupied. Severus's office was dark, only lit by flickering green candle flame. Severus got up after you and watched you rub your eyes. Then, he stepped closer to bid you goodnight.

 You kissed his cheek. He leaned down and cupped your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He admired the way his words made your face look so much brighter.

 “Love you too. See you tomorrow.” You smiled, then started to step away, which earned you an indignant frown. You chuckled. “Oh.”

 Severus was successfully placated when you met him halfway, your lips pressing against his. He turned his head to the side to deepen the kiss slightly, capturing your bottom lip between both of his. He nibbled it ever so carefully, and you hummed against his mouth. The kiss broke, and you smiled sheepishly.

 You left abruptly without saying goodbye, because you felt shy. Severus blinked a few times as you walked away, then shook his head. It was just how you were.

 Once you left the room, Severus sighed. It was quiet and rather dull again. He sat at his desk, and resumed work. He found himself more tired than usual…perhaps too many late nights in a row. Or perhaps all this happiness was wearing him out. He was not used to it, after all.

 The next morning, however, Severus did not feel well rested at all. He groggily got dressed and entered his private bathroom to brush his teeth. During the process, however, he froze. He felt a stone of dread fall into his stomach, followed by a stone of irritation.

 “Damn it…I don't have time for this nonsense…” He grumbled.

 Severus had swallowed, and found that his throat was sore. Not only that, but the first pains of a headache were coming on. He tried to ignore it, but as he was washing his face, he sniffled. He was becoming ill, but he had no idea how. He hadn't caught it from you, you seemed perfectly well. He prayed it was just a short-lived cold.

Notes:

Gonna be so honest, Y/N forgetting to give it to him on their date was also *me* forgetting to write that and having to fix it in this one lol

Chapter 16: Pulling Weeds

 Severus wasn't in class that day, Dumbledore took over potions. His teaching style was wildly different, and kind of threw you off. He didn't inspect potions until the end, only helping students who went to him with questions. Everyone else seemed to like that, they didn't feel the weight of intense scrutiny boring into them. You missed it though, Severus looking over your shoulder and not saying anything. You could always tell if his opinion was good or not based on energy alone.

 It was difficult to focus on brewing your potion as you started to worry. It was a brewing test for Draught of Living Death, so you really had to stay focused as you had no written instructions to rely on. Is he not feeling well? That would probably be the way he would miss class. I hope it's not too bad, maybe I should sneak into the kitchens and get him some soup. You clued back into your task when your potion started bubbling too much, too loudly. You quickly corrected yourself, stirring it and adding a dash of something.

 You, of course, went to ask Dumbledore where Severus was as soon as class ended. He was saying a kind goodbye to every student as they left, so you made sure you were last. He smiled at you, knowing exactly what you were about to ask. He answered your unspoken question. “Severus is feeling under the weather. I'm sure he'd appreciate a visit…although be wary, he's not in the best mood.”

 “Thank you, sir.” You set off immediately.

 After a quick pit stop at the kitchens, where you snuck in with the aid of a young Hufflepuff, you made relatively short work of the trek back to the dungeons with a container of soup. You found the door to Severus's private quarters and knocked, announcing your presence. “Severus, it's me!”

 You heard nothing for a couple of seconds. Then, a slightly rougher version of his voice came through. “Don't come in. You'll catch this-” He cut himself off with a sneeze. It sounded like a bark, you almost laughed but your sympathy and concern stopped you. “-Infernal cold!”

 “I brought you soup, though. Can't I just come in to drop it off?”

 “...Fine.” He said. You could hear him sigh heavily. Dumbledore was right, he was grumpy.

 You opened the door and took in the sight of the main room of his quarters. It was simply furnished, cozier than you expected. Everything was dark wood, and there was a full bookshelf next to the stone fireplace. Severus was relegated to an armchair, wearing a black pajama set. His face was fixed into a scowl and his nose was pink. He looked at you, arms crossed, but his expression softened ever so slightly.

 “It's just the split pea soup that they're going to serve with dinner. I hope you like it, I know it's not everyone's cup of tea.” You opened the container and handed it to him with a spoon.

 Severus grumbled and you knew it was probably not his favorite, either. “Ah, baby food. Thank you.” He said sarcastically. You internally bristled at his tone. He looked up at you and scooped some of the thick soup with the spoon. His expression turned apologetic as he registered his own tone.

 “Don't worry about it. You're sick, you get a free grouch pass.” You chuckled. You didn't take his attitude to heart.

 “Thank you for the soup. You should leave.” Severus muttered. You looked him over, feeling the urge to fuss over him. He wasn't wearing a blanket, he had no beverage, and you saw a lesson planning book on the small table next to his chair, open. He was still trying to work.

 “I could make you some tea and get you a blanket-” You started to suggest. He interrupted you with a dismissive wave.

 “I can do that myself.” Severus said. You deflated, but respected his wishes. However, you tried to gently coax him into accepting help once more as you turned to leave.

 “I think this is the sort of thing a partner is supposed to help with, though…”

 Severus watched you go. A part of him wanted to call you back, to ask you to make him some tea and tuck a blanket around him after lighting his fireplace. To sit nearby and keep him company. He shook his head as if to loosen the idea from his brain. I don't want them to catch this. Besides, I can do those things myself. I'm not helpless.

 Despite his stubborn insistence upon his own independence, and the truth of his current capability- however limited- Severus did not move. He didn't get himself tea or a blanket. He only used his wand to light the fire before eating the pea soup, then returning to planning lessons. Self care was something reserved for after work was done, in his view. He worked alone in the room, the only sounds being the scratching of his quill interrupted by an occasional sneeze or cough.

 After the soup delivery, you found Neville sitting in the library. He was reading while waiting for you, and looked up when a bottle was slid across the table towards him. He read the label. It was the fertilizer potion you had promised.

 “Sorry, it took me a while to get around to it.” You placed a second bottle in front of him. “I don't need one anymore, since my beans grew. But you'll probably get good use out of them both.”

 “Oh, thank you!” Neville smiled. “I can't wait to use this.” He turned the bottle, watching the liquid within it swirl. You smiled, happy to give back a little.

 “You've been so nice to me. You helped me in herbology and with my silly thing about Sev- I mean, Professor Snape…you're a great friend. You are the only one who really wanted to be my friend, besides Snape.” Your hand twitched. You wanted to hug him, even though it was hard to touch people besides Severus.

 “I could say the same things about you. Except the Snape stuff, of course…” Neville shifted from foot to foot. “Can I hug you? I mean, I know you don't really like that, but…”

 “You're my friend, I can try. I'd like to.” You smiled. Neville got up and stepped forward. You both raised your arms and closed them around each other, it just happened that Neville's ended up around your waist. It was brief, though. You both pulled away quickly. It was a good hug, but your body refused to stay in it.

 You heard a low grunt, as if someone was trying to get your attention. You turned and saw Severus standing by a bookshelf, frowning. You almost laughed. He wasn't looking at you, but rather, at Neville. He had seen the hug. He was jealous. “I better go.” You said to Neville.

 As you walked towards Severus, Neville tried to laugh it off, but gulped nervously anyway. He did not want Snape's ire for hugging you. He returned to his reading as you left with Severus.

 “You should be resting, you're sick!” You whispered as you and Severus turned a corner, passing by your fellow students.

 Severus ignored your remark and replied with a notably rough voice. “He put his arms around your waist.”

 “Yes, he's my friend and we hugged.” You rolled your eyes. “Why'd you come find me, you should be in bed with some tea.”

 “Actually, tea is what I was looking for.” Severus said. You followed him, and you realized he was leading you into the dungeons. He stopped briefly and coughed into his elbow, at which point you placed your hand on his back on instinct. He was still stuck on the hug, though. “Does…Longbottom have an interest in you?”

 “No, I don't think so.” You raised a brow and smiled knowingly. “You're jealous.”

 Severus scoffed. “Nothing so juvenile.” He puffed his chest out a little. “I am merely concerned that he might try something with you.”

 You laughed outright. “We are talking about Neville, right? Don't worry about it.” You knew he wasn't worried about you being hurt. He was certainly jealous. You took his hand and squeezed it. His frown turned into almost a pout. “What was that about looking for tea?”

 You both resumed walking. Severus asked “I was wondering if you knew any good tea blends that are optimal for soothing colds.”

 “You don't know any?” You asked, doubtful. No way you knew something he didn't. Severus just glanced down at you next to him, his hand still holding onto yours. “Lavender, chamomile, ginger, lemon, lemongrass.” You answered anyway.

 “Thank you. I have some tea like that.” Severus replied. He squeezed your hand a bit. The two of you arrived in his quarters shortly. He definitely already knew what tea he needed, he just used the question as an excuse to lead you here.

 As soon as he crossed the threshold to his rooms, he slumped a bit and lost the swagger he was putting on in front of the other students. He went to his chair and sighed with exhaustion as he dropped his weight into it. You went over to him and your brow furrowed with concern. You pulled your sleeve back and put your wrist to his forehead. “Severus, you're warm. No fever, but still. Why did you get up and move around? You need to go to bed.”

 “I don't need to sleep, I need you.” Severus reached out to grab your hand, intending to kiss it. He turned away and coughed instead. It sounded phlegmy.

 “That…is very sweet.” You smiled, but you still appeared concerned. “You do need rest though. I'll make you some tea, you should get dressed in something more comfortable.”

 Severus was not used to you telling him what to do, however kindly you did so. You were right, so he swallowed his pride and channeled his limited energy into going to his bedroom. While he changed, you made use of his kitchenette. You found a mug in his cupboard and boiled some water quickly with the help of your wand. The tea he had that was fit for colds was almost empty, but a few crumpled bags were still there. You dropped one into the mug.

 “Honey…” you murmured right as Severus exited his room behind you.

 “Yes?” Severus said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. You chuckled and turned around, cheeks tingling. You held up the bottle of honey you were holding.

 “I'm adding it to your tea.” You replied. You saw what he was wearing, and your heart slipped a beat. Severus was no longer in his full coverage black uniform of privacy, rather he looked casual and comfortable. He was wearing a black T-shirt and pajamas pants. His arms were crossed, but you could see a bit of muscle. His shirt allowed you to see his waist well, and the healthy layer of softness that covered his musculature.

 However, as much as you wanted to learn his body by touch all of a sudden, you knew he needed tending to. He looked very tired. As if on cue, Severus sneezed as soon as he sat back down. You stirred the honey into his tea and brought it to him. “Here, drink up. It should soothe your throat and hopefully help with the congestion.”

 Severus thanked you and sipped. He made a sour face at the amount of honey you had put in. “Y/N…”

 You laughed and stood near him, grabbing a blanket he'd left strewn across the floor. “Sorry, I put a lot in. It's for your throat.” You noticed how he held his mug in one hand, his other arm pressed against the front of him, hiding his forearm. You didn't have to think about why, and you wouldn't ask.

 Severus allowed you to draw the blanket over him, and he settled into his chair. You leaned down and kissed his hair. He tried half-heartedly to lean away. “I don't want you to catch my cold…” He accepted the kiss anyway. “I think I'll be alright for the rest of the night, you can leave.”

 You shook your head. “No way. I'm staying to take care of you.” You crossed your arms and tried to look stern. “I know that as soon as I leave, you'll reach for your work again.”

 Severus glanced away from you, which told you that you were correct. “I don't need to be coddled like an infant.”

 “Of course not.” You said, taking a box of tissues off his mantle and moving them to the little circular table next to his chair. “You need to be loved like a man.”

 Severus swallowed and frowned, he was getting misty eyed. He wasn't used to being cared for, and it was obvious. I don't deserve this, he thought. He was at a loss as you touched his face and tilted it up, you were looking at his eye bags. He squinted and winced as you lifted his face, as it made the light shine directly into his eyes. “Ah-!”

 You noticed his reaction and you acted quickly. You let go of his cheek and used a spell to dim the light. “Does your head hurt?”

 “Yes…every sound is too loud and the lights are blinding.” Severus grumbled, and then gave you a meaningful look of realization. You just smiled back at him, knowing exactly what he just realized. “Is this…what it feels like for you? When you're somewhere busy or…chaotic?”

 “Yes, pretty much.” You nodded, softening your voice to accommodate his current state. “Luckily, that means I know how to help you. I'll be right back.” You started to leave. 

 He reached out and took hold of your hand, with the arm he'd been hiding. His movement had a sort of desperation to it, like he didn't want to be alone. You stopped and looked down, and you saw the dark mark on his arm. It was unmistakable, and caught you off guard although you knew it would be there.

 Severus let go of you and pulled his hand back as if yours was on fire. He hid the mark with his other hand. “I'm sorry. I don't want you to see that.” His voice was very soft, full of shame. He looked away. You reached out to offer comfort, reassurance. He shook his head. “Don't worry about it. You'll be right back?” He reminded you of what you were doing.

 “I will.” You left the room.

 You weren't gone for more than five minutes before you came back with a few things in a bag, only to see Severus sneezing into a tissue. His sneeze was a loud, wet honk. “Oh no…” You said. He sounded terrible. You watched him drop the tissue into a wastebasket, then sanitize his hands.

 “You're back…” He said. His nose was red, probably from how often he was wiping it, it was irritating the skin. The sneezing aggravated his head, it was spinning. Severus saw your bag. “What did you bring?”

 “Just some things that should help. First, you're getting into bed.” You said. Severus opened his mouth, eyes narrowed. You knew he was about to protest so you cut him off. “No arguments.”

 “...Very well.” He conceded with a heavy exhale. He rose from his chair and shuffled his way into his bedroom, with you in tow. His bed was naturally covered with black sheets and pillows. He peeled back the duvet and climbed in. You smiled with satisfaction as he laid down and relaxed quickly, tension releasing.

 “Now to help with that headache of yours.” You went to his bedside and pulled the objects you'd brought with you from your bag. Your ear muffs and sunglasses.

 “Those are yours…” Severus said, eyes slightly wide with surprise.

 “You have a headache, these will help. If you plan to sleep you don't need the sunglasses, though.” You lifted the objects for emphasis.

 “I don't plan on sleeping quite yet. But…I don't want to pass my illness onto you via your possessions.” Severus tried to persuade you, even as he rubbed his temples, giving away how painful his headache was.

 You didn't take no for an answer. You slid the sunglasses onto his face and tucked a stray section of hair behind his ear, then you placed the earmuffs over his ears. It reminded you of when he did the same for you. You smiled. “Oh, this is bad.”

 “...Bad? What is it?” Severus tilted his head. He looked up at you from his bed, clad in the shades and earmuffs. His nose was red and he looked quite cozy. The tools he was wearing made him look impossibly adorable and you were incredibly endeared. He saw you cover your mouth with your fists and squeal.

 “You look so cute like this…is that bad to say while you're so uncomfortable?” You asked.

 Severus shook his head. His headache was dampened now, due to your sensory tools. He felt a bit of wonder at how effective they were, and he had a renewed appreciation for how they helped you, too. “No, it's alright. I don't understand how I could possibly look cute, but…welcome to my world. You look painfully adorable whenever you wear these.” He smirked.

 You returned his smile. You then leaned down and kissed his forehead to test his temperature. “You're warmer now, that's not good. Don't get up unless you have to use the restroom, okay? I have to go, it's late.” 

 Severus opened his mouth to reply but coughed into his elbow instead. Then he reached out to you, in an almost dramatic way. “W-wait…”

 “Yes?”

 “...Nothing.” He mumbled.

 “Mhm. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you.” You smiled, backing out of the room.

 “I love you, too.” He said. You blew a kiss to him, and left.

Notes:

The next chapter is the last one, this was so fun to write and helped me through a tough time. Sometimes you just need fluff, you know?

Chapter 17: Our Garden

 “You can't seriously be working again already.” You groaned as you entered Severus’s office. He was in bed, borderline feverish yesterday. Yet here he was, brewing an example potion for a class the next day. He glanced at you between stirs and sniffled.

 “I'm fine. My temperature is down, my headache is gone.” He returned to the potion.

 “Throat?” You asked. Severus didn't answer. “So it's still sore then.” Still no answer. You approached him and leaned on his shoulder.

 “You're distracting me, mouse.” Severus smiled, glancing away from his work. He leaned down, just to look at your face, but he fell into your trap. You kissed his forehead. It was not as warm as yesterday, but close enough.

 “You're still too warm for my liking.” You noticed Severus frown slightly and you felt a bit helpless. He could give himself a fever like this, why won't he take care of himself?

 “I'm fine, just-” Severus started his sentence off with a slightly prickly, but not harsh, tone. Then he remembered it was you and that you were just worried. He softened his voice. “I’m not sick enough to warrant your concern. I only needed your help last night because my head made it hard to focus.”

 “And yet you were forcing yourself to act normal when you came to find me? That must have taken a lot of energy.” You pulled up a chair and sat nearby as he continued brewing. Severus didn't respond for a while. You were right. He'd spent most of his energy preserving his reputation around the other students.

 Severus sneezed, and he couldn't manage to avoid sneezing directly into the cauldron. It was soiled. “Damn it!” He swore, not too loudly but you couldn't hide your slight jump. Severus felt regret creep up. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He gave you a soft, worried look.

 “Oh, I'm okay.” You waved off his concern. “Sorry about the potion. I could brew it instead?”

 “Nonsense. I should be able to create a simple second year level potion…” Severus initially refused help, but he saw the frustrated and pleasing expression on your face.

 “Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you rest? I'm worried about how far you push yourself, it's not healthy. You have to know your limits.” You stood up. He turned to you and hesitated, but reached out to you anyway. He rested his hands on your shoulders and looked at you for a long moment. You had no way of knowing what he was thinking.

 “I'm…not used to asking for help.” Severus began with a vulnerable tone. You stayed quiet, to encourage him to open up more. “I’ve always been expected to work hard for the sake of others, I have…spent much of my adulthood giving of myself to causes, to this school. I have learned to take hard work completed as its own reward, as I never receive any other. No thanks, no accolades. No appreciation…except from you.”

 You moved in, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing the side of your face against his chest. “I understand, nobody has shown you real gratitude for everything you do. What I don't understand is…why do you seem to neglect yourself the way others have neglected you?”

 Severus didn't know how to answer you. He didn't want to tell you that he felt he deserved it because of his past, because of that wretched mark on his arm. “I…don't know.” He lied.

 You knew it was a lie. However, you were smart enough to understand what the truth was without him telling you. “When you feel ready, you will tell me. I'm always ready to listen.” You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “Severus, remember one thing okay?”

 “Yes?” Severus tilted his head, listening closely.

 “You told me I can come to you if I ever need help. Well, you can come to me, too. I won't ever judge you.”

 “...Thank you, mouse.” Severus smiled. He leaned down, his eyes on your lips. Then, as he was about to cup your cheek, he stopped and looked disappointed. “Ah. You could get sick.”

 “Yes…which is why you should rest and let me make this potion.” You said, stepping away and patting his shoulder. “The quicker you recover, the quicker I get to kiss you again.”

 “Very persuasive, indeed.” Severus conceded with a little grin and sat at his desk. He watched you take over, discarding the potion he had sneezed into. You cleaned everything and began the brew again. Severus rested the best he could for the rest of the day and stomached more heavily honeyed tea from you, and by the next day his cold was gone.

 —

 Severus tackled you into his bed, his hands gripping your wrists firmly but gently. Your back landed harmlessly among his pillows. You tried to sit up but Severus was too strong, and he kept you firmly in place. Even as he released one of your arms, he had you pinned. You lowered your hand down, down…until you reached his stomach. You wiggled your fingers against his shirt.

 Severus laughed, a short bark before he retaliated. He rolled, making you think you had won by letting you perch atop him. You raised your hands, mischief in your eyes. Then, your ribs were assaulted with gentle tickling. A tickle fight after dinner.

 You erupted in giggles and thrashed, Severus laughed too. You loved when he laughed. He deserved to laugh as much as you could make him. However, soon your stomach started to hurt. Severus ceased his attack as soon as your smile turned pained and your voice changed in tone. “Sorry, love, are you alright?”

 You got off of him and laid next to him on your side. “Yes, I'm fine…phew…”

 “I’d never have been caught dead rolling around and engaged in a tickle fight before you…” Severus sighed. You were laying facing each other, the room was dimly lit. Severus reached out and stroked your hair. He moved closer, and kissed the tip of your nose. “Now I can't imagine any other way to spend an evening.”

 “I guess I'm corrupting you, then.” You said sweetly. Severus pressed his hand into your arm and pulled your hand to his chest.

 “I suppose so. Corrupting me with your sweetness…” Severus kissed the back of your hand, then he turned it and kissed your palm. “I'm glad you are.”

 You shifted closer and snuggled close, he put an arm around you. For a few minutes, the two of you cuddled in his bed. Until you started to hate the feeling of laying down in your day clothes, it was very uncomfortable. Severus heard your grunt of frustration as you freed yourself from his arm. He sat up, worried he had somehow upset you.

 “Something wrong?” Severus asked as you stood up next to the bed.

 “Yes.” You tugged your clothing back into place, it had moved and twisted around you in an uncomfortable way. “I can't lay down in these clothes…”

 Severus sat up and looked at you. “Take them off, then.” He said nonchalantly. You answered in a flustered tone.

 “No way, you can't just…say things like that…” You blushed. Severus chuckled softly.

 “I'm kidding. Although, I would like to have you back here, in my arms again…” Severus thought for a moment, and then got up from the bed. “Is it too soon to ask you to sleep here tonight?”

 Your heart pounded and you tugged your sleeves, fidgeting. “I'm not ready to have…” you trailed off, too shy to even say it.

 “I don't mean sex, mouse. I just want to fall asleep holding you, and wake up the same.” Severus approached you. You calmed down, but still felt shy.

 “I would have to go get pajamas…”

 “You can wear something of mine, if you wish.” Severus suggested. He then shifted awkwardly in his feet and cleared his throat. “If you want to stay the night, of course.”

 You did want to. You told Severus as much, and he started going through his drawers while you sat on the bed. He held up a big black shirt. You turned it down. He asked you what was wrong with it and you said that you liked it, but the tag would bother you. You watched as Severus took the shirt with him out of the bedroom. When he came back, there was no trace of the tag on the shirt. He removed it, just for you.

 “Here, I'll find you some bottoms too.” Severus handed you the shirt, and he turned back to his drawers. He took out pajamas for himself, too. He handed you a pair of trousers that were definitely too big for you, but they luckily had a drawstring.

 “I don't know why, but I never pictured you having such normal clothes…” you turned the garments over in your hands, feeling the soft cotton.

 “Do you think I lounge around in this?” Severus gestured to himself, his fitted dark garments. They looked very uncomfortable to you, you always thought that. “You can change, I won't look. I'll shut my eyes until you tell me you're done.”

 “Okay.” You said. Severus closed his eyes and turned away. It was a little nerve-wracking to remove your clothing with him in the room. You took off your shirt and pants, folded them neatly, and placed them on the chair near the window of his room. You stood there in your undergarments for a very brief moment. Part of you wanted to say open your eyes, look at me. The other part was terrified at the idea.

 Severus’s shirt was large on you, but you weren't quite swimming in it. The trousers too. His clothes were comfortable, easy to move in. You lifted the collar of the dark shirt to your face and sniffed. It smelled like Severus. “I'm dressed.” You said.

 Severus turned and opened his eyes. His eyes scanned you, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothes. “You look so cozy.” He smiled, and began to approach you. Then, he remembered he had to change as well and sighed. It was an exhale of disappointment, as if the delay of your proximity to him was uncomfortable, however short the delay would be. 

 You shut your eyes tight so he could change. Severus huffed in amusement, but it was a gentle sound full of endearment. Your eyes were crinkled with how tight they were shut. I want to kiss those eyelids and make them relax. He changed, and told you he was finished when you felt the bed dip beside you. He touched your shoulder and felt you flinch slightly as you looked at him.

 “Mouse? Are you okay?” Severus asked. You nodded. He spoke to you in a quiet, reassuring manner. “We're just going to sleep. That's all.”

 “I know. I've just never shared a bed with anyone before…” you said.

 “Not even your mother, as a child when you had nightmares?” Severus asked, he was smiling. He thought it was a lighthearted question, but his face fell when you answered.

 “Not really, she turned me away if I ever asked. Sometimes I would sleep across the foot of her bed, I'd be quiet so she wouldn't wake up and I could stay.” You explained, and as you did, Severus took your hand. You looked down at your feet and continued. “Sometimes she did wake up, and made me leave no matter how much I cried.”

 “I'm sorry, love, that isn't fair.” Severus spoke to you softly and he frowned with gentle concern. Severus squeezed your hand gently and kissed your hair. He understood why you relied on him so much now, and also why you tried to be so independent even when it was perhaps unwise. This also explained why you didn't want to go home for Christmas. You hadn't been properly cared for by your mother, something he could relate to.

 The two of you laid down, and Severus pulled the blanket over you both. You faced away from him, your back pressed against his front. Severus marvelled at how perfectly you fit against him, how his thighs felt flush against the back of yours. His hand crept across your stomach, resting on it, not squeezing or rubbing. You felt his breath on the back of your neck, not heated, just there.

 “You make me feel so safe.” You said quietly. Severus held you a little tighter.

 “I'm glad. I want you to feel that way, always.” Severus said. He felt you shake a little bit, and his tone grew worried. “Y/N?”

 It took you a moment to tell him what was wrong, you were crying. “I don't…I don't want to go home.”

 “You don't want to go home?” Severus said. His tone suggested that it was a question, but it wasn't really. He knew what our meant and why. There was only about a month left until the school year would end and summer would begin. You'd have to go back to your mother's house for the summer.

 “I'll be alone there.” You said, wiping your tears even as more flowed. Severus moved back just enough for you to roll into your back. He kissed your cheek, the tears on them transferred to his lips. If you went home, you'd be alone even with your mother there. She wasn't a companion, only a source of pain.

 “Then…don't go home.” Severus suggested. “You're an adult. You don't have to go back there if you don't want to.”

 “I have nowhere else to go.” You shook your head.

 “Yes, you do.” Severus looked into your eyes, his nails brushing against your cheek. “You can stay with me.”

 Severus saw your eyes widen. He feared that the suggestion was too soon. He was about to rescind it, or at least express understanding that it was a wild idea, but you spoke before he could. Wonder laced your tone. “Really? I could…live with you for the summer?” The idea of sharing his space, of spending every day with him, made you very happy. “I wouldn't be annoying?”

 “Annoying?” Severus frowned. He looked at you like he had never heard a sillier idea in his entire life. “No, of course not. I would love to have you in my home…ours, if you want it to be.”

 It was a crazy idea. You had only been together for around a month. Yet, it seemed like the most right thing you had ever considered. It wasn't like you were marrying him, or moving in permanently, it was just for the summer until your seventh year where you'd reside at Hogwarts again.

 You started to imagine the future, what it would hold. Severus and you, spending the summer together. You finally completing your magical education around the age most muggles are finishing college. And then…what?

 You knew what.

 “Severus…Sprout is retiring in two years right?” You asked.

 “Yes, she is. Why?” Severus asked with a tilt of his head, still holding you.

 “I was thinking about maybe…becoming the new Herbology professor.”

 “That sounds like a great idea. You would be brilliant in the role, it's your second best class after potions, yes?” Severus smiled. You confirmed with a nod.

 “Yes. Although, to be honest, I won't stay on the post for long.” You clarified, adding your addendum.

 “Why not?” Severus asked.

 You smiled. “Neville deserves it more. I'll just keep it for him. If anyone else took the job, they wouldn't leave it for him no matter how good he is. He's talked about wanting to teach Herbology, but he's not certain about it. If he ends up not wanting it, I'll stay of course.”

 Severus smiled at you, his expression fond and tender. “You're a very dedicated friend.”

 You turned in Severus's arms until you were facing him, and he met you before you had leaned in a full centimeter. You smiled against his lips, and he followed before the kiss softened.

 Between kisses, Severus tickled your ribs again, just a little bit to hear you laugh. He didn't take it too far, not enough to make you sore. Your laugh was loud, full of joy. Severus laughed too, louder than you had ever heard from him. It didn't hurt your ears, it didn't make you flinch. It did make your heart ache just a little, though, because you knew he was never happy like this before you.

 You moved slightly on top of Severus, stopping the tickling by laying on him. He wrapped his arms around you. You grew bold and covered his face in kisses, the corners of his mouth, his nose, his forehead, and his jawline. Severus simply let you, enjoying your affection and a bit awed by it. What could I have done to deserve such sweetness?

 “Meow…” You were excited, and let out a vocal stim. Severus looked confused, but still smiled.

 “Are you a cat now? I thought you were a mouse.” He asked with a chuckle.

 “Yes, I'm a cat now.” You confirmed. Severus felt like his heart was being squeezed, he adored you when you were silly, when you were unapologetically you. “Meow.”

  Your growing confidence and unmasking was fuelled by a forest full of love for him, or perhaps a meadow. The image of Severus with the dandelion crown on his head came to mind and he felt you smile against his lips again. This summer, you would paint that picture again as many times as you could. Flowers all around him, burying him in softness and simple things. Things that grow delicate but strong.

 Severus thought of you like that. To him, you were something that grows delicate but strong, like a dandelion or a violet that grows through the stump of a tree or the cracks in concrete. A beauty that nothing can smother. Lovely, and wild, and free.

 In the drawer of the table next to the bed you two were currently cuddling in, was a little passed daisy on black paper, labelled. It was from you. The corner was slightly bent from how many times it had been handled. Pushed to the back of that drawer, hidden, was a small box. That box would be opened a couple of years later, and you would squeal so loudly that Severus would have to cover his ears while still on one knee.

 

End

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading this story. It's not perfect, far from it, and I think parts of it are kind of silly, but it's sincere. I hope this ending is satisfying :)

I'm working on a much longer, much more ambitious fic next, another Snape one ;) it will be a while before any of it is posted though. I'll post a couple of one shots in the mean time.

Any feedback on my work is appreciated as long as it's given in good faith 💕

Notes:

This was a two shot, so the pacing will slow down after the first two chapters.