Be warned, this story has mentions of non-consensual sex and some mild violence. Nothing traumatic, but I thought it best to warn you.

My beloved beta, moonrevel, has been kind enough to correct my never-ending mistakes. Thank you so much.

---

Hogwarts. Nothing seemed to say “Magic” like this stone building. Not the few wizarding villages that were spread across the country, and not even the Ministry of Magic.

No, it was this old castle, set in the picturesque Scottish highlands, that was the embodiment of all things magical for every British wizard and witch. Most have spent seven years in those hallowed halls, spent their important adolescent years there.

Who didn’t remember the amazing maze of corridors, classrooms with the most fascinating accessories, a Great Hall with an enchanted ceiling, a beautiful view from the many arched windows.

Roaring fires, ice-cold ghosts, silent suits of armour, chatting portraits.

How many couples and lovers had found a spot that they thought special, not caring that generations before them had cherished the very same hiding places? Who hadn’t kissed on the Astronomy tower, or made love in a dark niche or simply lay together by the lake?

The few that had no such romantic or erotic encounters still found things to make their seven years worth remembering.

It certainly played a big and mostly unforgettable part in everyone’s life.

It was no different for Severus Snape.

He had spent his school years there. He had arrived as a scrawny, gangly boy of eleven, glad to leave his abysmal childhood home, and yearning for acceptance among hundreds of other magical children.

He had got his hopes up, only to have them dashed from day one.

His years at Hogwarts were the stuff of nightmares. Yet, still he lived here to the present day.

xxx

School was out for the summer and the castle was practically abandoned. Not a single student to be seen or heard, and most of the faculty had left as well.

Headmistress McGonagall was not allowed to leave the school officially, but unofficially, she was on holiday and only checked in every other day. Hagrid was always there, as he probably had nowhere else to go, and he would never leave his myriad of creatures. It was the same with Trelawney, who never left her tower anyway, and Filch who was as much part of the castle as the moss in dark corridors.

The only other person still here was Severus Snape, who always began the holidays with, what had become a habit over the years, an annual ritual of visiting some of the places in and around Hogwarts that remind him of all the painful moments he had suffered through since his arrival as a young boy.

He did the same this year, but the route he took differed from year to year, and whichever way he took, he would always find spots of uncomfortable memories.

He walked the familiar paths with unseeing eyes; his feet knew the way and brought him safely to the destination his subconscious led him to.

What he found first, was the corner where Sirius Black and James Potter had hexed him for the very first time. It hadn’t even been two weeks into the first year at school when they decided to gang up on him, simply for not liking the sight of him.

He stopped in the same spot as he recalled his bleeding nose as the Stunner had sent him flying face-first into a wall.

He looked up and touched the stone where he had crashed into. There was no sign of his impact with it so many years ago. Well, what had he expected? That the stone would show a nose-shaped imprint? He smirked a little. Of course the strong stones would not be marked by something as insignificant as him…

He marched on until he stood in front of an old classroom, which he hadn’t set foot into since his thirteenth birthday. Lucius had promised him a present, and a young, impressionable Severus had willingly followed his idol into the musky smelling room.

He still recalled Lucius’ words: “I have something for you, Severus. Something… long and sturdy.”

He remembered how his eyes had lit up, thinking the older boy had got him the broom he so wished for. Severus pinched his nose, still annoyed with his naïve reaction. He had smiled at the blond and nodded eagerly.

His present had been a more or less gentle introduction into the art of anal sex. It could have been worse, Severus thought morosely, and passed the classroom without peeking into it.

He had never been on a broom again until his graduation…

He walked up a flight of stairs and another until he found himself staring at the doors of the Great Hall. How many meals had he eaten in there, trying to block out the sea of students that meant little or nothing to him?

He opened the heavy door with a steady hand and sighed as only silence greeted him.

As always, he immediately thought of his own sorting. How a stupid, leathery hat had separated him and Lily so early on, setting in motion a series of events that would end in tragedy.

Severus pushed those memories away; thinking about Lily still hurt too much.

His eyes travelled to the Gryffindor bench, searching for a distraction. He knew exactly where Harry Potter and his two best friends used to sit, but couldn’t recall many other faces before them.

The more he concentrated, the clearer became the memories. He could see Potter’s constantly angry and arrogant face, Weasley’s morose visage after a lost Quidditch game and Granger’s bouncy mane as she scolded the dunderheads around her.

He could even recall Longbottom’s terrified squeak when he found his least favourite teacher watching him, and had often choked on various foods or beverages. Severus shook his head, feeling the same annoyance well up in him that he had always felt when he saw the boy enter his classroom.

His eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to relive his memories with actual sounds. All he managed was an annoying hum of hundreds of children who made it impossible to listen to a single conversation.

Severus shook his head to clear it, only to find himself staring at the empty Head table, his gaze coming to a rest on the throne-like chair in the middle.

Dumbledore’s chair. The current Headmistress never used that chair, leaving it empty as a silent show of respect to the deceased wizard.

McGonagall either didn’t know or didn’t care how painful it was for Severus to be reminded of the old man’s absence with every meal. Severus had the feeling it was the latter, and often thought the gesture to be one of accusation. The old woman would never know how much she was hurting him with it.

With a shaky huff, he strode from the room and kept walking. He needed some fresh air.

It had been a bad idea to come outside, though. The grounds were packed with unhappy memories.

xxx

He had spent many lonely days out here, just him and a book under a tree. He had jealously watched others and their friends as they laughed without a care in the world. The first years he had read an inordinate amount of fiction, wishing he were in some other world. Anything to forget the unbearable vindictiveness he always faced from various sources.

How often had he been rudely pulled from the stories by a hex? He had given up his attempt to escape the harsh reality of his pitiful life in his third year, disillusioned by the age of thirteen. Aged forty-four, he still didn’t read any fiction.

He almost didn’t dare look at the spot by the lake where James Potter had strung him up by the ankle to hang him upside down and expose his tatty underwear to half the school.

But worse than that humiliation was the knowledge that this had been the spot where he had lost Lily: the light and love of his life from childhood on, the woman who had dominated his mind and his life for years.

Gods, how he had loved her! Until this day, he saw her gleaming red hair reflect the sunlight as she turned her back on him after he had spoken that fateful word. Mudblood.

He had lost a part of himself that day. And never had he felt such raving hatred for anyone, as he did for Potter that day: hatred so fierce that not even the man’s death had lessened the feeling.

He turned away, as he felt his chest constrict as it always did when he walked past that spot.

On he went, his eyes trained on the Whomping Willow that was proudly covered in a healthy and lush layer of green.

Severus stopped a few yards away, safely out of reach should the tree decide to attack. But the wooden being paid him no mind, and he stared into the dark hole by its trunk, the hole that led to the bowels of the Shrieking Shack -- his worst nightmare.

Here, he had almost walked into his own death, a trap put up by Sirius Black. Yet another man he loathed with a never-ending passion.

He had come face to face with a werewolf: Lupin, the cowardly Gryffindor who left Severus to his fate without ever intervening in the attack his friends launched at the young Slytherin.

Severus didn’t even have to concentrate hard to recall the glowing yellow eyes, the frightening growl or the putrid breath that had been so close that day. He still woke from that nightmare on occasion.

He also remembered how he had almost managed to have Black arrested and Kissed by the Dementors after his escape from Azkaban. He had been so close to a perfect revenge for years of torment, and it had been dratted Harry Potter who had freed his Godfather at the last second.

Even after finding out that the man had been innocent, at least of committing the crime he had been imprisoned for, he still wished that he could have seen the man be turned into a drooling vegetable after being soul-sucked. For him, the mangy mutt would never be innocent.

Alas, the Marauders were all dead, and still he could not forgive any of them for what they had done to him.

Why should he? No one had forgiven him for his misdeeds. No one cared that he had paid for them, time and time again.

Well, maybe for a select few…

Only one person, actually.

Unconsciously, he lifted his hand to touch the vivid scar on his neck, where Nagini had sunk her enormous teeth in. He recalled the disgusting sound as sharp fangs had penetrated soft flesh with frightening ease.

That too had happened down there. Severus growled in distress as he remembered how his erstwhile Master had set his snake on him, how he had fallen to his knees as he had waited for his death to come, finding it only fitting to die a most painful death at one of the most hated places on earth.

But he had survived, while others had not.

With agonising slowness, he turned away from the place that held such horrific memories only to be confronted by an even worse one.

From here he had a clear view of the Astronomy tower. Not only was that an unpleasant reminder of the fact that Severus was one of the few that never had any romantic liaisons up there, but he recalled the late Headmaster before he plummeted to the ground.

It had been Severus who had killed his other master, employer and the man who had given him another chance when he didn’t deserve it. It had been his wand that sent the deadly green light which hit the old wizard in the chest to rob him of his life.

Severus would never forget the feeling of utter despair as he saw the slack body topple over the edge. He had run with the Death Eaters, not wishing to hear the body impact with the ground. He had never seen the frail figure sprawled on the grass; he had fled into the other direction, as his previous Order comrades turned on him.

He noticed his suddenly shallow breath and strode away with quick steps. He didn’t want to torture himself, even though he knew he deserved it. He had never returned to the Astronomy tower, nor had he spoken to Sinistra, the current Astronomy teacher.

xxx

He returned to the castle, taking in the majestic structure as he got closer.

It always looked stunning and impressive. Like something out of a fairy tale. But, oh, what horrors it held…

He walked back through the entrance hall, aimlessly walking up the stairs. He had walked the same path countless times, and he could still hear the giggles of a group of sixth year girls as a young Severus strode past them with toilet paper stuck to the boot of his heel without noticing it.

Soon, he passed the door to the unused bathroom that led to the Chamber of Secrets. His erstwhile master had been down there, wreaking havoc on the school and its inhabitants by controlling a deadly basilisk.

Severus shuddered. He hated snakes. Why everyone assumed that a Slytherin automatically loved snakes was beyond him. Did every Gryffindor fawn over a bloody lion?

He snorted and briskly walked away. So many different corridors, and he had been hexed in most of them. The Marauders had even attacked him on Slytherin grounds. Nowhere had been safe, and Severus had always walked around with his wand out, ready for anything.

He had probably been the most paranoid eleven-year-old on the entire planet!

No matter where he turned, words like ‘greasy,’ ‘slimy,’ ‘Snivellus’ and worse, echoed off the walls years after the actual event. He had been called every name under the moon in almost every part of the castle. He could still hear the muted whispers, the contempt, the condescension and the fear that the majority of students and teachers alike felt for him and hardly made an effort to disguise.

The words had been taunting him once more on his return to the castle to teach and spy, after defecting from the Dark Lord so many years ago, and still he heard the jeers with a frightening clarity that made his fists clench automatically whenever he left his quarters.

He tried to shake those uncomfortable thoughts off with a rough toss of his head, and he marched on, only stopping when he reached the Transfiguration classroom. He had been sitting in there during his own years of education and had never been overly adept at the subject.

But that wasn’t what had never endeared him to his stern teacher. No, Minerva McGonagall had never particularly liked or trusted him, not even when he was a mere boy. A Slytherin was simply not to be trusted, especially not one with such shifty eyes. It had hurt to see such prejudice coming from a teacher, especially since he had actually respected her.

After every altercation between him and the Marauders, she would sternly look at him first and demand an explanation. She had listened with narrowed eyes before sending him away for detention. Potter and Black had been in her house and the clear favourites.

Of course, they didn’t get along famously after he had joined the staff. She had never showed how she really felt about him, but at least she had never displayed open hatred. She had shown him only a cool politeness and a vainly hidden lack of trust.

Their constant bickering had been famous among staff and students alike. It had of course changed after he had been forced to kill the Headmaster. Her hatred knew no bounds, and she would happily have killed him if she had the chance.

Only after Potter Junior revealed his loyalties to all and sundry before vanquishing the Dark Lord did she make an effort to understand him. Just as most teachers had done. That didn’t mean they suddenly liked him, especially not after he had to kill the Headmaster, but they showed some sort of compassion for him.

From villain to eccentric and tragic hero. From hateful and anti-social to misunderstood and heartbroken.

With a mirthless snort, Severus walked away from the classroom, only to stop in front of a smallish door. Flitwick’s quarters.

The man was quite polite to him, but not really friendly. Severus remembered the time he had started teaching and Flitwick had offered to help him should he need any help. His words had been: “My office is always open.”

But when a young Severus had gathered all his courage and dared to hope for an ally, seeking the older wizard out with a chessboard under his arm, the diminutive man had looked shocked and mumbled something about it being a bad time, leaving a wounded and embarrassed young Potions master scowling at his colleague's door.

Severus had never again tried to approach any of the staff, not even asking for help when he returned after a summons, bleeding and in pain.

Flitwick had probably suffered from a bad conscience, and had tried to make up for his rudeness by keeping up a polite air whenever they met after that disastrous night. Severus had eventually responded in kind. Both maintained the façade of friendliness over the years - it was less draining than sending death glares at each other - but both were well aware that Flitwick’s initial response would never be forgotten.

xxx

Higher and higher he walked, the stone staircases for once appearing at his feet without delay. He absentmindedly stroked the banister in acknowledgement. How ironic, though. For all the unspeakable things that had happened in these walls, the castle itself had nothing against him and had never shown any ill-treatment towards him, something it was well capable of.

He gave the banister another pat, gentle and almost fond.

He hopped off after a few flights of stairs and turned into a mostly unused corridor.

It housed some old classrooms that hadn’t been used in centuries, and the air smelled of dust and slight decay. No sconces lit the way and Severus lit his wand.

He stopped suddenly and faced a picture frame. The frames here were abandoned; no one wanted to live in constant darkness. The inhabitants of the few portraits that hung here had found more comfortable places in other frames a long time ago.

What Severus looked at was a landscape. A typically Scottish landscape with an old ruin set on a small island on the edge of a loch, surrounded by the hills of the Highlands.

He looked pained as he remembered showing it to Lily one day, sharing his favourite painting with her. After gathering his courage, he had confessed to his wish of living with her in such a location.

“It looks cold and rather boring. What would you do there all day long? Go fishing?” she had said.

Severus remembered blushing at her dismissive words. He loved that scenery and would have liked nothing more that to restore that rustic building and to live in peace and quiet.

Lily had scrunched her nose up in distaste. It had been the last time he had tried to talk about anything he wished for their future, and spent ages trying to think of ways to afford the little cottage Lily dreamed of.

It hurt to think about it, and he made to leave the corridor again, before stopping. He turned with a speculative look and shrank the picture until it fit into his hand, before removing it from the wall and putting it in his pocket. No one would miss it.

Only then did he leave the corridor and jump on another moving staircase, moving higher and higher.

Gryffindor tower. How often had he stood there or around the corner to try and catch a glimpse of Lily, and always leaving with another crack in his heart as he was subjected to the sight of her walking hand in hand with Potter, or locking lips with the prat?

He had stood here, begging for forgiveness from her after calling her Mudblood. He had tried to convince her that he had only spoken in a fit of anger, that he hadn’t meant it.

She had only glared at him and walked away, time and time again. She said and did nothing when her boyfriend and Black had climbed through the portrait hole to teach him a lesson.

“Would you like to enter?” A female voice interrupted his musings.

Severus looked up and blinked at the face of the Fat Lady, who had guarded the Gryffindor tower for many years.

His throat was dry, and he simply shook his head before striding away. How long had she watched him? Feeling like a schoolboy again, he walked faster. He disappeared into another corridor to swallow the lump in his throat and gather his equilibrium.

After a few seconds, he recognised where he was, and a shuddery sigh escaped him. His spidery fingers slid softly over the cold stones until he found what he was looking for.

He traced the indentions in the stone and laughed a little at the audacity of actually carving things into the sacred Hogwarts stones. He could still make out Lily & Se…

It was tiny, and that was the only reason Black and Potter hadn’t noticed it that day when they happened upon him. He had left with a bloody and broken nose, but also a sense of accomplishment, though he had never tried to finish it when it became clear that he had lost her.

Lily had never seen it; he had always been too scared to show it to her, and later, after losing her to his nemesis, she probably would have blasted the whole stone to smithereens.

For some reason, seeing it now bothered him. He didn’t like the idea of anyone finding it, whispering stories about his cursed life or, heaven forbid, his love life.

After a short moment of deliberation, he pulled his wand and erased the carvings he had laboured over with intense concentration within a second.

Bits of stone fell to the floor as his spell peeled off the surface of the stone. He sighed deeply as an odd weight lifted off his chest. He felt accomplishment of a different sort this time as he continued with his walk of memories.

Before he knew it, he stood in front of the infirmary, and he cringed slightly. Steeling himself, he pushed the doors open and stepped inside, glad not to be greeted by Poppy for once.

He had lost count of the times the nurse had huffed in exasperation and hidden worry when he had come to her, beaten, cursed, bloodied, and barely able to stand.

She had seen him after being subjected to every nasty curse in the books and those you’ll never find in any book. She had also seen him in various states of undress, something he hadn’t got used to no matter how many years had passed.

He walked through the rows of narrow beds, trying to ignore the circumstances that had forced him into one of them during his school years. Potter and Black had been just as cruel and innovative as any Slytherin, but no one had seen them for what they were…

He had seen a few students of his in here as well. He had seen all sorts of things: victims of rare Potions accidents, inter-house duelling, relationship dramas and even the odd suicidal student.

And he remembered Granger. First the incident where she had turned herself into a cat, then the time she had been Petrified by the Basilisk, making him uncomfortable with her pale appearance and her lifeless eyes. It had been most disconcerting to see the rather obnoxious whirlwind of a girl lie still and helpless.

The most memorable had been seeing her after the disastrous affair at the Ministry. The feeling of satisfaction at hearing the news over Black’s demise would forever be marred by seeing her sliced open after a vicious hex by Dolohov. He could still see her pain-filled eyes and hear her hissing breath as she tried to be strong. Tears had gushed out of her eyes as the blood flowed freely from her abdomen. He had hated the mewls of pain that she hadn’t been able to suppress; they had scared him.

He grimaced and walked to the teachers' ward. It wasn’t used often, as most ailments of the staff members weren’t serious and could be cured in his or her chambers.

Whenever Severus had been here, and that had been more often than he would have liked, he had been alone in the room. Always on the same bed, as well, and he could draw a picture of the cracks in the ceiling above that bed from memory.

The typical smell of the infirmary was getting to him, and he didn’t want to dwell there any longer. He practically stormed out of the room before he could remember all the horrific injuries he had brought back from Death Eater meetings and revels.

His next stop was one of the few things he liked in the castle: a beautiful arched window at the end of a corridor from which one had a spectacular view over the grounds.

He leaned over the railing after opening the window and let his eyes roam over the landscape almost fondly.

From here, he could see the lake and the Forbidden Forest behind it, the water winding its way through the Scottish mountainside, tapering off into the unknown. Occasionally, he had watched the sunsets from up here and could forget about his unhappiness for a rare moment.

When he noticed how maudlin he had become, Severus pushed away from the window and closed it without care. Then he left it behind him.

His steps slowed again after a few turns, knowing what he was about to see. With a low growl he commented on finding an old store-cupboard. He knew it more intimately than he ever wanted to after being locked into it by Potter and Black for over ten hours.

They had stolen his wand after sending him crashing into a wall with a Stunner and had dragged his almost unconscious body into the tiny room, locking him in with nothing but mouldy brooms and rusty buckets.

When he regained his senses, he had slowly begun to panic in the darkness, and he hadn’t been able to suppress angry and frightened tears after the first hours of his imprisonment. He had banged on the door, screamed for help and thrashed wildly around himself as he was forced to discover his claustrophobic tendencies.

The cupboard was so small, he’d barely had a place to sit, and he had suffered from a series of cramps during his imprisonment.

Worst of all had been the puddle of piss he spent the remaining hours in after having to empty his bladder in one of the buckets, which, unfortunately, had holes in it. He had sat in a puddle of his own bodily fluids, shaking with cold and despair, actually fearing for his life.

Dumbledore had been the one to find him after he failed to appear to classes. Severus had stumbled out of his prison, blinking against the light, and ignored the worried questions from the old wizard.

A smelly and snot-covered Severus had snatched his wand from the man’s fingers and left without a word, swaying as he stumbled away. The man hadn’t even tried to send him to the infirmary, only voiced some inquisitive questions about how he had ended up in there…

He had been a third year then, and Severus still had a fear of enclosed spaces unto the present day. Gods, how he hated those men.

With a deadly glare, he threw the door to the storeroom open and scanned the items within. It still held the same three brooms and two buckets, now even rustier than before.

With a shout, he sent a Reducto at every single item, bits flying past him as they practically disintegrated. Breathing heavily, he watched the dust swirl around him. With another snarl, he slammed the door shut and jerkily fled the scene before he could set fire to it.

He sought solace in the dungeons and sprinted down the stairs. He passed another storeroom, this one reminding him of the first time his Dark Mark had begun to darken during the Triwizard Tournament. He could still feel the deep panic and dread he had felt then, knowing that his more comfortable days would soon be over.

He rushed past that storeroom and finally wound up in front of his own classroom. He could just walk past it and enter his quarters, but he forced himself to finish his walk of memories.

With a smirk, he threw the door open, satisfied when it banged against the wall with a noisy thud. He had always liked to greet his obnoxious students in that way.

This was his terrain, his area of expertise. He was one of the few, the very few, Potions masters this country had produced. He knew so much and could have imparted a lot of his knowledge. But instead he had been forced to prevail against students who were merely a few years younger than he. An iron hand, disdain and a certain amount of mocking had become his strategy to deal with them. Ruling by fear had become his modus operandi for the next generations.

He didn’t like his own teaching methods, but they kept him above his unruly mob of students who had neither interest in the subject nor any respect for him. Since the end of the war, he had often entertained thoughts of changing his teaching style, but he hadn’t been able to alter it. The fear of showing just the tiniest bit of weakness had even made him sneer some more every time he even contemplated this foolish idea.

Besides, it was quite satisfying to see the moronic students cringe and stutter in fear. He knew full well that it was a devil's circle, but his twisted self took some pleasure in making them pay for all the unfairness he had to suffer. Unfairness was part of life; if no one else was willing to teach them about that, he certainly would!

He smirked a little self-deprecatingly, but it lessened when he walked through his domain. Instead of walking up to his desk, he walked to a bench and squeezed his long frame behind it, stroking the marred wooden surface reverently.

This had been his spot when he’d been a student. Lily had sat in front of him, and he had stared at her beautiful hair in between adding ingredients to his potion. To his dismay, Potter and Black had occupied the desk behind him, thus ensuring all sorts of nasty sneak attacks and sabotage attempts during each and every lesson.

Severus had been too proud to try and let the teacher sort it out. Slughorn wouldn’t have done anything anyway.

To his consternation, it was Neville Longbottom who had chosen this very seat many years later. How it had galled Severus to see that bumbling idiot in his chair.

Next to him had sat Miss Granger, and Severus briefly wondered how it would have been to have her as a partner during his school days. He scolded himself for such a ridiculous thought and searched the desk and the chair, almost expecting to find a curly hair. There was nothing, of course. Hermione Granger had left school six years ago.

He breathed in deeply before standing again, leaving the room without a backward glance.

He had quite enough of this arduous self-torture with his past, and he returned to his quarters. The dreary dungeons had been his home for many years, and he knew about every rumour concerning him. He shook his head as he remembered the many times he had heard the word vampire whispered in his vicinity.

He quietly muttered his password, even though there was no one to overhear him, and stepped into his rooms.

It was chilly, as was always the case down there, even during the hottest summer days. Severus stood in the middle of the room and let his eyes roam over the bare walls that had been his home for so long.

Nothing special, these rooms, he concluded after a lazy perusal, and walked over to the fireplace. It was spotless, not a single trace of ash from the last fire, he noticed.

Merlin, how many tumblers of firewhisky had he thrown into the flames as his depression overwhelmed him? How many books had he read on the comfortable couch during the years? How many nights had he spent alone with nothing but his misery for company?

He stepped into his bathroom and looked at his own frowning face in the mirror. The room was small, yet everything he needed. Just a sink, a shower and a loo.

He recalled the intimate relationship he had with the toilet after the many times he had vomited into it after a draining summons.

The shower brought back unhappy memories of him sitting huddled in the small cubicle as he tried to wash away his memories, along with blood staining his hands. The only positive thing to happen in here had been the occasional times he masturbated during a shower. He snorted at himself and left the room to inspect his bedroom.

Nothing worth remembering had happened here. He hadn’t entertained any women in here, ever. This bed had only ever known him. It had witnessed every nightmare, had seen him toss and turn, had seen him wake up screaming, entangled in his sweat-soaked sheets.

He stroked the wood of the sturdy four-poster. He liked it.

“Want to take that as well?”

Severus whirled around when he heard the voice, but said nothing to the person watching him from the living room.

“I’m sure Minerva will let you have it if you want it,” the person continued.

Now he spoke. “We already have a bed, Hermione.” He sounded melancholic, even to his own ears.

He watched her approach and sighed as she hugged him. He knew she could read his mood, feel his turmoil. He took comfort from her silent support, and even closed his eyes to inhale her soothing scent.

They stood like that for a while in absolute silence. Only when he huffed and straightened a little did she let him go, smiling up at him.

“Did you say goodbye to your colleagues?”

His answer was a noncommittal hum.

Hermione knew him well enough to know that he was trying to hide something. She only stared at him intensely, waiting for him to elaborate. He did so after a few seconds.

“Most have left the castle,” he explained, still not quite looking at her.

“But they know you are leaving today. You had given Minerva your notice four weeks ago, surely she would have told them and…”

His lips tightened, and he waited for her to finish her thought.

“You have given her your notice, haven’t you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I had it delivered to her office this morning,” he confessed, not at all sorry for not having told her. “There’s still three weeks left of the summer holidays, so I have delivered it in time.”

Hermione understood, though, and didn’t even scold him. She wrapped her arms around his slender frame and stroked his back. She tried to imagine the reaction of the other teachers when they noticed that their Potions master had silently left the castle for good. She doubted they would be in tears, and she knew he was more than aware of that fact, as well.

“They haven’t noticed that you carried out boxes with you during the last weeks?”

“I had reduced them to tiny parcels and carried most in my pockets. So, no, they likely didn’t notice a thing. Even if they noticed my many absences, they didn’t exactly worry over the fact,” he said dryly. His smirk looked a little forced, and she knew he wasn’t as unaffected as he tried to portray.

“Got everything then, love?” she asked tenderly.

He looked at his bed one more time, but quickly decided to make new memories with the new bed they had bought. The rest of his room were empty, save for a desk and a coffee table that had already been there when he had first moved in.

He nodded at her and reached into his pocket. Hermione watched curiously as he enlarged the item and showed her the painting he had taken. He said nothing and simply waited for her reaction with bated breath.

“This is lovely, Severus. It looks just like our house, before we did it up,” she gushed, her eyes sparkling with obvious delight.

Severus felt his eyes sting, and he lowered his head as he concentrated on reducing the painting’s size again. When he had stowed it away, he closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered gruffly before taking her hand and dragging her out of his empty quarters for the last time.

His young lover didn’t ask him what he was thanking her for, probably saving it for later when he wasn’t so emotional. He smirked at his skewed definition of ‘too emotional’ and felt his amusement keep any unhappy memories at bay as they left the castle to Apparate to their new home, far away from Hogwarts.

It would be good not to have a daily reminder of every nightmarish experience he had in this castle. He looked at the building one more time before spinning away to a new life.


The End