Severus Snape moved through the stone corridors of Hogwarts with his usual sweeping stride, robes snapping behind him like the wings of an agitated bat.
To any passing student, he looked unchanged.
Cold.
Controlled.
Immovable.
But inside?
His mind was a cauldron at full boil.
And the flame beneath it was Cassius.
His son.
His downfall.
His salvation.
Possibly all three at once.
By the time he reached the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, his pulse was steady, his expression unreadable.
But his thoughts?
Chaotic.
He had made his decision weeks ago now.
Only after deciding to align himself with his son and the faction he was building, he had not yet informed his own current 'master' that he was defecting...
Not that he needed to of course but within the castle no secret ever is kept from Dumbledore...
It was like the old man had powers to witness all events within the castle, perhaps a perk of being the headmaster and a part of the headmasters power?
He will notice.
He always notices.
Dumbledore misses nothing.
If i hold back any longer things will get worse and his response will sour for sure.
Snape inhaled slowly.
No choice now.
He whispered the password, ascended the spiraling staircase, and stepped into the office.
Dumbledore sat behind his grand oak desk, half-moon spectacles perched low, eyes twinkling over a stack of letters.
Fawkes dozed gently on his perch, feathers shimmering with a sleepy warmth.
"Severus," Dumbledore greeted warmly, "right on time. I appreciate your reliability more than you know."
Snape inclined his head stiffly. "Headmaster."
Dumbledore gestured him forward. "I trust your patrols have been uneventful? No disturbances on the grounds?"
"A few…" Snape paused, "…oddities. But nothing worth troubling you over."
Dumbledore hummed.
"Very well. Now—shall we begin?"
Their meetings always began the same.
Dumbledore asked about the Dark Lord.
Snape reported.
Dumbledore analyzed.
Snape lied, omitted, or twisted truth as needed to preserve his own pride.
But tonight—
Snape could not play the same role.
Not anymore.
The lie was dead.
The Mark was dead.
My purpose to him is dead.
Dumbledore sifted through letters idly. "Any news from the dark lord? Any updates about the escaped Death Eaters?"
Snape remained silent.
For a long moment.
An unnatural stillness crept over the room.
Fawkes stirred.
Dumbledore looked up.
His calm expression faltered its tiniest fraction.
"Severus?" he asked gently. "You seem… troubled."
Snape clenched his jaw.
He had prepared a dozen ways to phrase it.
All of them diplomatic.
Carefully worded.
Deferential.
But when he opened his mouth—
What came out was blunt.
"My Mark is severed."
Dumbledore froze.
The air thickened instantly, magic responding to the weight of the words.
Snape continued, voice low and razor-sharp:
"My connection to the Dark Lord is gone. Not suppressed. Not shielded. Gone. I have been cut off entirely. Even if the dark lord attempted to summon me i would not know."
Dumbledore set his letters aside with meticulous care, as though any sudden movement might shatter the fragile truth between them.
"…How long?"
"Years." Snape exhaled slowly. "Over two, to be exact."
Dumbledore stared.
The twinkle died.
"years," he repeated softly. "And you are only telling me now?"
"I did not know it was possible," Snape snapped. "And honestly i didnt believe the one who did it, but recently i've started to notice in light of recent events that i've received nothing from the Dark Lord, and so what was done to me... what that someone did for me, had actually worked."
A pause.
A knowing pause.
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened.
'…Cassius.'
Severus never named his 'helper' and being who he was that could only mean either the helper was his crush Lily Evans... or more likely the enigma that is his Son Cassius.
Dumbledore leaned back.
He did not look angry.
Nor betrayed.
He looked… saddened.
Deeply.
Painfully.
As if something precious had slipped through his fingers and he had known it was inevitable.
Severus was perhaps his most useful tool in the war waged against Voldemort, a tool that had become a very close friend.
But when compared to family... his bond meant little.
"And with that severance," Snape continued quietly, "the Dark Lord would now view me as a traitor. Useless as an agent. Impossible to reinsert into his ranks. I no longer serve any meaningful function to your cause."
Silence.
Dumbledore folded his hands together.
"Severus… I never considered you 'useful' merely because you bore that mark."
Snape scoffed softly. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not." Dumbledore's voice was calm, steady. "You have done more for this school—and more for me—than anyone could have asked of you."
Snape flinched faintly at the mention of his 'good deeds'.
Dumbledore continued:
"If Cassius truly did sever your bond, then the consequences are beyond our control. I would not ask you to put yourself at risk for a role you can no longer fulfill."
Snape looked away.
He had expected disappointment.
Reprimand.
Subtle manipulation.
But not acceptance.
Certainly not gentleness.
Dumbledore sighed softly.
"So," he said, "you intend to remain as a teacher, then? To continue your duties, and… your personal responsibilities?"
The pause before "personal responsibilities" was delicate but unmistakable.
Snape swallowed.
"…I gave you my word," he said quietly.
"And I expect you to keep it," Dumbledore replied with fond sternness. "Not out of obligation. But because I know you truly wish to protect him."
Snape stiffened.
There it was.
The unspoken truth between them.
Dumbledore knew.
Perhaps not how much.
Perhaps not the full depth.
But he knew Snape cared for Cassius.
More than he should.
More than was safe.
More than a spy, or a professor, or even a reluctant guardian should.
Snape exhaled a long, tense breath.
"Very well," he murmured. "Then our arrangement stands. I remain here. As a professor. As his… guardian."
Dumbledore nodded softly.
"And there is no shame in that, my friend."
Snape winced internally.
He detested when Dumbledore called him that.
But he couldn't deny a small, treacherous part of him warmed at it.
Just a little.
Just enough to hurt.
Dumbledore rose from his chair and approached him.
Gently—so gently—he placed a hand on Snape's shoulder.
"You have never been a pawn, Severus," he said. "Not to me."
Snape stared straight ahead.
Expression blank.
But inside?
A war raged.
Not a pawn?
Then what am I?
To him?
To Cassius?
To myself?
Dumbledore stepped back.
"Take the week to rest," he said kindly. "Halloween is often… eventful. Stay vigilant. But do not burden yourself with old roles you can no longer play."
Snape inclined his head.
He turned.
Left.
Descended the stairs in silence.
~
Outside the Office
Only when the stone gargoyle closed behind him did Snape allow himself to breathe.
Truly breathe.
He braced a hand on the wall.
Eyes closed.
Chest tight.
"It is done," he whispered.
He was free.
Freed by a boy who should have never existed, who had become both his curse and his compass.
Half of him felt lighter.
The other half?
Terrified.
Because if he was no longer Dumbledore's spy…
…what would he become instead?
And more importantly—
What was Cassius shaping into?
Snape swallowed hard.
Then stood straight.
Composed himself.
And strode toward the dungeons.
He had work to do.
Halloween was approaching.
And Severus Snape, for the first time in decades, was entering it without orders.
Without a master.
Without a leash.
A dangerous freedom.
An intoxicating one.
He wasn't sure which frightened him more.