He stood motionless in the shadows, watching through the narrow gaps between leather-bound volumes and dust motes dancing in lamplight. This angle denied him a clear view of her face, but every syllable of her voice reached him with crystalline clarity.
The moment transported him instantly to that morning three years past, when he had occupied this exact position and overheard her speaking of him to Dumbledore.
"Self-disciplined and principled, proud but not arrogant, sharp-tongued but not crude..."
Every word remained etched in his memory with perfect fidelity, but did he deserve such generous assessment?
His principles lay in ruins, shattered by his own repeated betrayals. His arrogance had convinced him he could orchestrate her emotions like some puppet master pulling strings. He had treated her with unconscionable cruelty... yet even after his vicious words in France, she hadn't transferred her hurt to Harry Potter.
He listened as Dumbledore's gentle probes met with responses that confirmed his worst fears—she truly had abandoned all hope in him.
He felt like a mountaineer suspended in empty air, watching his only lifeline fray strand by strand. Panic shattered his paralysis. He burst from behind the bookshelf, pursuing her retreating figure while lacking the courage to close the distance.
But then—a spark of desperate hope. He recognized her destination with absolute certainty: the Room of Requirement. Their sanctuary.
What followed transcended reality, existing in the realm of impossible dreams.
If abject apologies could resurrect what he'd destroyed, he would have prostrated himself a thousand times over. But she had done something far more miraculous—she had forgiven him completely. Her only demand: that he choose life over martyrdom.
Snape lifted his wand from the desktop, whispering the incantation with reverent softness. "Expecto Patronum."
His panther materialized in a cascade of silver radiance, more magnificent than ever before. Once, it had flickered and dimmed, but since that night, it blazed with unprecedented power.
He had witnessed love's transformative force firsthand—Harry Potter served as living proof, walking the castle halls as a testament to its strength. Now Snape understood that power intimately, felt it coursing through his very soul.
The knowledge made his past cruelty even more unbearable. Alone behind his desk, memories assaulted him like physical blows:
Not merely that catastrophic night in France—
He had pressed his wand to her throat in this very chamber.
He had literally hurled her from his office with magic.
He had forced her to process vats of disgusting toad specimens.
He had deliberately orchestrated her isolation with Malfoy.
Sweet Merlin, he would have traded his soul for a Time-Turner—anything to return and throttle sense into his former self.
A bitter smile ghosted across his lips as his attention returned to the essay before him. Even without reading, he could see the meticulous organization, the careful argumentation. Her moonstone powder research had been exhaustive since that summer after third year—this paper was undoubtedly flawless.
He selected his obsidian quill, dipped it in emerald ink, and moved to inscribe an "Outstanding" grade. The moment nib touched parchment, however, the ink vanished as if the paper had drunk it whole.
Snape frowned. What peculiarity had she woven into this parchment?
Then magic bloomed before his eyes. The absorbed ink resurfaced, spreading like watercolor across the page until it formed a perfect black rose—identical to the embroidered pattern on the gown he had chosen for her in France.
Wonder softened his harsh features. His fingertips traced the delicate petals while time seemed suspended, watching as the enchanted rose gradually faded back into nothingness.
How could he not have fallen completely, irrevocably in love with her?
He would honor his promise with every breath in his body—survive whatever trials awaited, endure until the day they could finally, truly be together.
The black rose had vanished, but its message remained seared into his heart: even in the darkest moments, beauty could bloom from the most unlikely places.
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