FicWad

What if Snape Fell in Love?


-a fanfiction with an OC, a self insert: Tara Lionheart-


1990-1991

Chapter 1: The Lionheart Spark

The dungeons of Hogwarts were perpetually cold, the damp stone walls seeming to leech warmth from anyone who lingered too long. The dim glow of sconces cast long shadows over rows of bubbling cauldrons, and the air was heavy with the mingling scents of herbs, simmering liquids, and faintly acrid smoke. It was a world of discipline and precision, ruled by Severus Snape, whose very presence demanded perfection.

At the far corner of the room, Tara Lionheart hunched over her cauldron, her shoulders stiff with concentration. A seventh-year transfer from Ilvermorny, she had hoped to blend quietly into her new environment. Those hopes were dashed when her potion released a pungent aroma that curled through the air, drawing every eye in the room.

Snape’s gaze, sharp as a blade, honed in on the source. “Miss Lionheart,” he intoned, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Our illustrious transfer student, I presume?”

Tara froze under his scrutiny, her bright blue eyes darting nervously toward her cauldron, which emitted a murky greenish-brown hue.

“This,” Snape said, gesturing toward her concoction with a flick of his long fingers, “appears more suited for fertilizing the Forbidden Forest than for healing.”

The room went silent. Tara swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she replied, “P-powdered talc acts as a catalyzer for the sliced wyrmwood scales, Professor. W-when stirred and heated to exactly eighty-six degrees, the reaction strengthens the potion’s healing properties and clarifies the… stink.”

“Show me.” Snape’s tone was clipped, his skepticism evident. At the far end of the table, Tara’s new roommate and resident start potions student, Penny Haywood snorted. Tara’s solution wasn’t in any text book but she knew it would work.

With trembling hands, Tara picked up her stirring rod. Her motions were precise: four clockwise turns, five counterclockwise, her wrist twisting deftly at the end of each sequence. The room seemed to hold its breath as the potion’s murky depths began to brighten, transforming into a radiant cerulean glow.

Snape leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the transformation. The success of the brew was undeniable. For a fleeting moment, his mask of disdain cracked, and something like surprise flickered across his face.

“Impressive,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Tara’s heart pounded. She hadn’t expected to call this level of attention to herself on her first day of classes.

Straightening, Snape regained his composure. “Your technique is commendable,” he admitted grudgingly. “The powdered talc was a clever touch. Your father, Ozmandias Lionheart, was known for such inventive methods. It seems the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”

Tara’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Th-thank you, Professor,” she stammered. “I’ve studied his notes for years. But I’m honored to bring that knowledge here to Hogwarts. I never thought I’d be here.”

She offered him the finished vial, its ethereal glow casting soft light across her face. “I hope it meets your expectations, Sir,” she added timidly.

Snape took the vial, his gloved fingers brushing hers briefly. Holding it up to the light, he examined the potion with a critical eye before handing it back. “It does,” he said finally. “But do not let one successful brew inflate your ego. Potion-making is an art of discipline. One flawless attempt does not make a master.”

“Yes, of course.” Tara said but as Professor Snape moved away, her roommates: Nymphadora Tonks, Chiara Lobosca, and Penny Haywood all gave her thumbs up, though Penny seemed like she might be a touch jealous of the praise from their teacher.

As the lesson concluded, students busied themselves cleaning their workstations. Tara meticulously wiped down her tools, her mind still reeling from Snape’s grudging approval. Her long single braid swung as she moved, catching the dim light like threads of flame.



Snape’s gaze lingered on her longer than he intended on the new student. The red of her hair was startlingly familiar, stirring an ache he thought long buried. It wasn’t just the resemblance to Lily Evans; it was the way Tara worked—with determination, precision, and a spark of raw potential that called that ache forth.

He turned away abruptly, schooling his features into their usual stern mask. Yet, as she left the dungeon, her presence lingered, a reminder of something he couldn’t… no, wouldn’t quite name.



The Great Hall was a stark contrast to the dungeon’s dim solitude, filled with sunlight pouring through enchanted ceilings and the lively clatter of hundreds of students preparing for lunch. Tara slid onto a bench at the Hufflepuff table, her stomach growling audibly. She blushed, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed.

“Hey, you’re the transfer from Ilvermorny, right?” a cheerful boy with dark hair, chiseled features, and bright gray eyes asked.

Tara nodded, she moved to sit near him. “Tara Lionheart.” She said, extending her hand for a shake.

“Cedric Diggory.”

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” said a girl with straight dark hair and warm, sun-browned skin. “I’m Juniper. How’s your first day going?” Juniper appeared to be a few years older than Cedric and a few younger than Tara herself.

“It’s... different,” Tara admitted, thinking of Snape’s piercing gaze. “The professors at Ilvermorny weren’t quite so... intense.” Her sheepish smile earned knowing laughter from her housemates.

From down the table, Nymphodora commented fairly loudly, “She means Professor Snape is intense. He cornered her in potions class already. Thankfully she proved herself well.”

The table poured much of its attention on Tara until Beatrice Haywood’s general grump broke them up into smaller conversations.

As the hall grew more crowded, Tara spotted Snape standing near the staff table, his dark figure scanning the room. Their eyes met briefly, and her breath caught. For a moment, the noise of the hall seemed to recede. She quickly looked away, her cheeks burning. What is wrong with you? First day and you have a crush on one of your teachers? And him of all people? What are you thinking, Tara?



From his vantage point, Snape surveyed the hall with his usual detachment. The chatter of students grated on him, but his gaze paused briefly at the Hufflepuff table, where Tara sat.

She was laughing with her housemates, her animated gestures drawing his attention. Even amidst the crowd, she seemed to carry a quiet self-possession that set her apart. When her eyes found his, he was amused to see her blush and look away. It was not the reaction he got from people.

A flicker stirred within him at that—something he refused to name. He forced his focus back to the room at large, resuming his role as observer and enforcer. Yet, the image of Tara lingered, an ember at the edge of his thoughts burning like the fire-red of her hair.

As food appeared on the enchanted plates, the hall erupted in delighted exclamations. Tara hesitated briefly before tucking into her meal, savoring the familiar comfort of pork roast, creamed peas and roasted root vegetables.

Snape’s gaze flicked to her again. There was something unguarded in the way she enjoyed her meal, a quiet appreciation for the simple pleasure of it. It was... refreshing. He dismissed the thought almost immediately, turning his focus back to the staff table as he was being hailed by his fellow heads of house.

But even as he immersed himself in the duties of his station, the memory of her fiery hair and bright smile stayed with him, a persistent whisper he couldn’t ignore, try as he might.

Chapter 2: The Weight of Legacy

The remainder of the first day of classes had been a whirlwind for Tara. As the hours passed, she realized her education at Ilvermorny had left her very well-prepared for most subjects at Hogwarts. She moved confidently through lessons in Charms, Herbology, and even Defense Against the Dark Arts. But in Transfiguration, she found herself trailing slightly behind her peers. The intricacies of advanced transfigurations just eluded her. They had back at Ilvermorny too and yet with her goal of being a healer, Transfiguration was a required course.

After class, Tara lingered to consult Professor McGonagall, who had immediately recognized her eagerness to improve. “Focus on these texts,” McGonagall had said, handing her a list of titles with a warm but firm smile. “And practice daily. You’ll catch up soon enough, I’m sure.”

As Tara reviewed the reading list, McGonagall paused, her sharp eyes sweeping over her with an expression of curiosity. “Miss Lionheart,” she began carefully, “your family has quite the reputation here, as you likely know. The Lionhearts, all of them Gryffindor through and through before they left for the Americas. Bravery and loyalty, much like the house itself.”

Tara shifted uneasily, her mind briefly flicking to the Lionheart legacy she felt both proud and burdened by. “I’m aware, Professor.”

McGonagall’s gaze softened, and she nodded knowingly. “I imagine it is not always easy, living up to such a history.” She gave a slight smile. “But of course, I trust you’ve carved your own path already—your sorting alone speaks to that.”

Tara felt the familiar pang of internal conflict stir as she nodded. “I’m glad to be in Hufflepuff, Professor. I’ve always believed in the good in people, in working hard for what’s right. In the end that proved stronger than my love of learning, my bravery or ambition”

Professor McGonagall’s smile deepened, though her tone remained measured. “Indeed. A Hufflepuff sorting is rare for one with your background, but not unheard of. You seem to have a quiet strength, Miss Lionheart. A strength that might just surprise some.”

As Tara closed her notebook, she couldn’t suppress the uncertainty that swirled within her. Hufflepuff. A house known for loyalty, patience, and hard work. She couldn’t help but wonder if those values aligned with her family’s expectations. Her ancestors had been Gryffindors through and through—courageous, bold, and brash—but she had never felt quite the same hunger for glory. The Horned Serpent house at Ilvermorny had been a better fit for her: intellectual, ambitious, and discerning. Hufflepuff, by comparison, seemed less about standing at the front lines and more about quietly building something lasting.

The conversation drifted into silence for a moment. Tara finally thanked her professor for the compliment about forging her own path and began gathering her things. She sighed, not fully at ease with the direction her thoughts were taking. It wasn’t that she disliked her house, but more that she wasn’t sure if it or Hogwarts in general, were where she truly belonged.

With a resigned shake of her head, she stood and made her way towards her room to deposit her belongings before joining dinner in the Great Hall.

When she entered the bustling space, the long tables filled with students chatting and eating. The noise was comforting, a reminder that she was still surrounded by people who understood what it meant to be part of a community—even if that community was still new for her. These people had spent years together.. Some rather eventful years if the rumors were true. Apparently a student died last year from someone using a killing curse.

She spotted a few empty spots at the Hufflepuff table on the front end near the head table. She slid into an empty seat, her gaze briefly drifting over the room.

The Gryffindor table was brimming with energy, students animatedly discussing something, most likely their first lessons. Her eyes lingered on the familiar red and gold, thinking of the Lionheart legacy. For a moment, she felt a pang of longing. Would she feel more certain right now if she had been sorted into their ranks?

Then there were the Ravenclaws, sitting in a more organized, quiet manner. Their discussions, while just as intense, seemed more focused and intellectual, and for a moment, she felt a longing to join the dialogues about magical theorems and philosophy that she caught pieces of. If only the Sorting Hat had placed her there, perhaps her struggles with identity would feel a little less complicated.

Then there were the Slytherins. Their table was both rambunctious and focused depending on how old the person was that she observed, but there was something sharp in their eyes, a cold ambition that, while not entirely foreign to her, still unsettled her. She understood ambition, but not in the way they seemed to embrace it. Her mind briefly flashed to the Horned Serpent house, with its blend of intellect and drive, and she realized just how much she missed her old school, missed her friends, missed her old life.

"Miss Lionheart,” Professor Flitwick’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the room, making her jump. “If you’ve got a moment…”

Tara turned to find him waving from the staff table, where he sat with Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Snape.

She turned to face them, her heart racing as she waited to see what the professors and heads of house wanted from her. That they interrupted her thoughts about her sorting suggested that maybe they knew she was questioning herself.

“Miss Lionheart,” Professor Flitwick greeted her, his sharp eyes studying her with a hint of curiosity. “I trust your first day is going well?”

“Yes, Professor,” Tara replied with a small smile. “It’s been... a lot to take in, but I’m adjusting.”

Professor Sprout, the ever-approachable head of Hufflepuff, nodded warmly, her face softening at Tara’s response. “We’re all here to help, Tara. It’s no small feat adjusting to a new school, especially with your background.” Her voice was full of the comfort and encouragement that made Hufflepuff students feel at home.

Tara nodded, but before she could respond, Professor Flitwick leaned in again, his eyes gleaming with interest. “Miss Lionheart, we’ve been speaking a little about your journey here. You come from Ilvermorny, yes? I must say, I find it fascinating that someone from the Horned Serpent house would end up in Hufflepuff. That’s not something we see every day.”

Tara shifted on her feet, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. “It’s... an unusual fit, perhaps,” she said, her voice steady. “At Ilvermorny, Horned Serpent felt like home. I mean I had a choice of houses but I’d known from a young age that if the Horned Serpent lit up for me, it would be where I was going. I always felt a kind of kinship with Isolte. We both came from a Hogwarts legacy that we didn’t desire to uphold.”

Snape, who had been listening intently, raised an eyebrow. “A Horned Serpent,” he mused, his voice low and slightly sardonic. “How appropriate for the skill I observed today. You are a studious snake then, aren’t you?” His eyes gleamed with an edge of challenge.

Tara met his gaze calmly, not one to back down from a subtle provocation. “I suppose you could say that, Professor. However, I’d like to think I have a bit more balance than that when you look at the whole of the influences on me.”

Professor Sprout chuckled lightly at the exchange, clearly enjoying the sparring. “That’s the spirit, Tara. You have a unique perspective to offer, and it’s that blend of backgrounds that makes you who you are. Just don’t be afraid to embrace both sides of yourself, alright?”

Flitwick, ever the optimist, beamed at her. “Indeed, Miss Lionheart. It’s rare to see someone embrace such diversity in their identity. I must say, I’m quite impressed with how you’ve adapted to everything.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement. “You’ve proven to be quite adaptable. But remember, your legacy doesn’t have to be a weight on your shoulders. You have the freedom to shape your path, just as you’ve already begun to do.”

Tara took a moment to process their words, feeling the weight of their encouragement. She hadn’t expected such an open conversation about her past, her house, or her place here at Hogwarts. It was, for once, nice to feel like she wasn’t being judged or confined by the Lionheart name.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Professor,” she said finally, feeling a sense of quiet resolve settle within her. “I’ll work hard to make my own mark—on my own terms.”

Flitwick smiled widely. “That’s all we can ask of you, Miss Lionheart. You’re in good hands here at Hogwarts.”

With that, the professors returned to their discussion, and Tara turned back to her table, seeing that some of her fellow students had been paying attention to their conversation which led to a renewed discussion of what today was like compared to the American magical school she’d attended for her first six years.

Talking about Ilvermorny was something she enjoyed so it held her attention, allowing her worries over where she belongs to quiet so she could simply enjoy herself.

Chapter 3: Precision and Patience

The next morning, Tara arrived at the Potions dungeon for her first double lesson of the term. The classroom buzzed with activity as students set up their stations. The air quickly became thick with the tang of brewing potions, steam curling toward the low stone ceiling.

The task for the day was beginning a batch of Scintillating Potion, a complex potion, requiring precise timing and meticulous measurements. Tara worked methodically, her brow furrowed in concentration as she weighed and measured each ingredient.

Snape prowled the aisles, his sharp eyes missing nothing. When he reached Tara’s workstation, he stopped, watching as she added a carefully measured pinch of powdered lionsmane. The liquid in her cauldron shimmered faintly, a sign that the potion was progressing as it should.

“Not bad, Miss Lionheart,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “But consistency is paramount. One misstep could render the entire batch useless.”

Tara glanced up, her bright blue eyes meeting his. “Please, Professor,” she said calmly, “examine it closely. I think you’ll find the consistency is perfect—no lumps, not too thin, not too thick.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. He leaned closer, using her stirring spoon to manipulate the liquid. His dark eyes narrowed as he assessed the potion’s texture and aroma. After a tense silence, he nodded curtly.

“You’re correct,” he admitted, his tone grudging but firm. “The consistency is acceptable. For someone new to this classroom, your attention to detail is… commendable.”

For a fleeting moment, Snape’s expression softened— He quickly pushed the thought aside and straightened. “Carry on, then,” he said briskly.

Tara blushed, something she did easily being a pale skinned redhead. Tonks made fun of her by morphing herself the same shade of red and Tara snorted. All four Hufflepuff girls had to quickly quiet themselves when Snape peered back at them.

By the end of the double period, the students were exhausted but satisfied. As they packed up their belongings, Snape’s voice rang out, silencing the clatter. “Miss Lionheart, stay behind.”

Tara exchanged a quick glance with her housemates before returning to her workstation, curiosity buzzing in her mind.

Snape approached her, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the polished surface of her desk. “I’ve been observing your work,” he began, his tone measured but not unkind. “Your aptitude for Potions is remarkable, beyond anyone in your year except for perhaps Miss Haywood.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. “You may not be aware but most of your peers have had the opportunity for extra-curricular potions making with the tensions of the school’s secret vaults over the past few years. I feel it amiss that you’ve missed out on such things.

“As a result, I’m offering you an opportunity. Assist me with certain research projects—extracurricular work that requires precision, discretion, and a thorough understanding of potion-making. In return, I’ll provide personalized instruction and access to restricted resources. I have but one request if you accept: you do this with me instead of any other extra-curriculars… in particular a ‘circle’ that your housemates believe to be properly secret. You will learn and you will stay out of the drama you’ve already mostly missed by the luck of being schooled abroad.”

Tara’s heart raced. She had always dreamed of delving deeper into her craft, and this offer was more than she could have hoped for. She was also aware of the student group he was mentioning. She’d not indicated that she’d heard them talking about the circle but Tara was a profound listener and heard most everything that went on around her. “It would be an honor, Professor,” she said earnestly. “My father always spoke highly of your work. He was especially impressed by your published treatise on Artemisia cultivation. He also taught me to not get myself embroiled in troubles that are not my own… something I suspect you’d agree with him on.”

Snape’s expression flickered with surprise at the mention of his treatise as few people knew he’d published at all. He then gave a dark chuckle to the second statement, though his tone remained even. “Your father has a discerning mind you’d do well to follow it seems. Very well. Meet me tomorrow night outside the classroom, eight p.m. sharp. Bring your textbook, parchment, and quill.”

He handed her a small, ornate key. “This will grant you access to the research area. You will need it on you everytime you pass through the door whether you're unlocking the door or entering with someone. The wards require a key for each heartbeat. Additionally, secrecy is paramount, Miss Lionheart. Do not disappoint me by bragging about this opportunity.”

“I won’t,” Tara promised, tucking the key safely into her robes.



That evening, as Tara worked on her homework in the Hufflepuff common room, a group of fourth-year girls giggled over their Divination assignments. They convinced Tara to let them read her fortune, their voices full of mischief as they interpreted her future.

“Look, you’ve got an admirer,” one said confidently.

“A dark figure,” added another.

“One who can’t admit to themself how they feel.”

“How does that make sense?” The fourth girl asked, checking her friend’s work. “How can they be an admirer if they can’t admit how they feel?”

Tara smirked at their predictions, thinking little of them. Her mind was already on the midnight meeting, her determination to impress Professor Snape far outweighing any silly notions of romantic mystery that they couldn’t even get straight.



Tara arrived at the Potions classroom early the next morning. The shadows in the room felt comforting, the atmosphere still and quiet. She liked to arrive before the rush in general but in particular being around potions kept her focus sharp. Her whole home felt like a potions lab when she was home so it made sense. Today, she was here to use the comfortable environment to aid her work on her transfiguration assignment.

With a sigh, Tara unrolled her notes on the desk in front of her. The subject still felt like a constant challenge, one that didn’t quite fit into the mold she had shaped for herself as a future Healer. Potions, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts—those subjects all made sense. They worked with the tangible; the concrete. But Transfiguration remained elusive to her for whatever reason.

She stared at the page, noting her latest attempt to transform a glass of water into a marble. It had been a decent transformation, but the balance had been lacking—her precision had slipped when it came to the final form. The size was right, but the shape was uneven, the edges too sharp, the surface too irregular.

It upset her to her core. It was too bad everything couldn’t be a potion. A potion might take longer to brew, but at least there was a formula to follow, a clear path to the desired result.

"Miss Lionheart."

Tara startled, looking up to find Professor Snape standing at the front of the room. He had entered without a sound, his dark eyes already scanning the space, settling on her with that familiar, unnerving focus. She felt herself flush again.

"You’re early," he noted, his voice flat, but with an edge of curiosity lurking beneath.

"I wanted to take some time to study before class, Professor," she replied quickly, hoping her answer would keep him from questioning her too much.

Snape’s eyes flicked to the page she had been working on, narrowing slightly. "I see you’re struggling with your Transfiguration," he remarked, his tone no more sympathetic than usual, though there was a sharper edge to his words today.

Tara sighed, setting down her quill. "Yes. I just can't seem to get the control right. It’s not about the transformation itself, it’s the shaping. The edges, the dimensions. I can never make it precise enough."

Snape studied her for a long moment, then spoke in his usual sharp tone. "Transfiguration is not like Potions, Miss Lionheart. You’re trying to approach it with the same mindset that works for a cauldron and ingredients. But Transfiguration, while it demands precision, is a different kind of magic altogether."

Tara frowned, trying to process his words. "But the transformation’s supposed to be exact, right?" she asked, unsure if she was missing something.

"No," Snape replied, his voice a little quieter, though still carrying that commanding authority. "Transfiguration is quick, Miss Lionheart. The change is immediate. A potion may take time—minutes, hours—but Transfiguration demands a much faster response. In Potions, you alter the physical properties of substances through the slow, deliberate manipulation of their structure, moving with measured intent, carefully balanced. It’s precise, yes, but it is a methodical, step-by-step process. Transfiguration is different."

He paused for a moment, then continued. "Transfiguration requires not just precision, but connection. You must understand the very nature of what you're changing—the essence of it, not just its form. It's not about slow, calculated alterations; it's about quickly connecting with the object’s core essence and reshaping that essence. That requires more than a technical mindset. It requires emotion—the right frame of mind to understand what an object is at its most fundamental level."

Tara furrowed her brow, her fingers curling around her quill as she considered his words. "But that’s why I’m struggling. I work best when things are exact. Potions are about precision, and I understand that. I know the exact measurements to use for each ingredient, and I can feel the balance in my hands as I brew. Transfiguration… it’s not like that. I can’t feel it in the same way."

Snape’s expression softened ever so slightly, but there was still a hint of impatience in his gaze. "You’ve done well with Potions because your nature lends itself to a measured and calculated approach. You are exacting, Miss Lionheart. That is your strength. But Transfiguration is different. You cannot simply impose your own rigidity on the magic. It requires flexibility, and understanding of forms as a whole. The magic must flow—feel—through you, rather than simply obeying your will."

Tara nodded, absorbing his words. He was right about her. She had always been good with precise, controlled magic—Potions, Herbology, even Charms—but Transfiguration required something else, something he understood and she still didn’t.

"Let me explain it so you like this,” He pulled out a beaker, a cauldron, goblet, and summoned a mop bucket from the corner, “are these all the same thing?”

“No.”

“But yet they all do the same thing… They hold liquid. Their ‘form’ is that of a liquids container. Any box might be a solids container. Transmutation requires you to understand such concepts and let you find the commonalities between two seemingly unrelated things to fuel the transformations.” Snape continued, his voice a little more clipped now. "For example, early transfiguration lessons typically include transforming a rodent into a goblet. What commonalities do those things share?”

“Well… they are both whole, both contain liquid, both have a definite structure…”

“Both have the ability to hold to a structure but no one structure completely defines them.” Her professor countered. Tara nodded, thinking that through.

“Okay… I think I’m getting it.”

“Good. Learn to let go of your strictures and feel the magic correspondences, not just control the output creation. Only then will you begin to see success in your transmutation work."

Tara met his gaze, a sense of determination settling into her chest. "I’ll try, Professor. I won’t give up."

Snape's dark eyes glinted with something like approval, but his voice remained unyielding. "See that you don’t. Remember, nothing in this school—or in life—comes easily, Miss Lionheart. Transfiguration will test you, but it will teach you valuable lessons. If you wish to pursue a career as a Healer, as you claim, then mastery of this magic is just as essential as your Potioncraft. You need to understand it fully for the sake of the very lives of those you hope to heal."

Tara nodded again, a quiet resolve building in her. She understood the weight of his words. If she wanted to be a Healer, she would need more than just Potions and Herbology. Transfiguration, too, had its place in that path, and she would find a way to master it.

Snape straightened, his expression returning to its usual severity. "Enough talk. Class is about to begin." He turned to address the rest of the students as they filtered in, his voice carrying a sharp command. "We will begin today with the Wolfsbane Potion.” He returned his focus to her briefly, “Pay close attention, Miss Lionheart, and remember the lessons I’ve just imparted. Precision and patience, in both subjects."

As Snape moved to the front of the room, Tara took a deep breath, steeling herself for the rest of the class. She still had a long road ahead of her, but for the first time in a while, she felt a spark of confidence flicker inside her. If Snape believed she could get there, maybe she could believe it too. After all, he seemed to be the king of putting people down. If he was building her up on this then he really must believe in her.

Chapter 4: Secrets of the Dungeons

Tara almost forgot about that evening's meeting until she saw Severus Snape leave the head table at dinner earlier than he might usually do so. The realization hit her like a jolt: she needed to gather her things and make her way to the dungeons. She grabbed one last biscuit and quickly bid her fellow Hufflepuffs good evening, the sounds of their chatter fading as she rushed to prepare for the meeting.

As she walked through the corridors, the familiar scent of stone and dampness filled the air. Tara clutched her book, quill, and parchment, the weight of her preparations fueling her anticipation. She triple checked that she had the key with her still as she walked, knowing she’d be mortified if she was stopped trying to enter the space by the wards he’d warned her about.

When she reached the potions classroom, Severus Snape was already waiting, his expression as controlled and unreadable as ever.

"You've made it," Snape said, his voice a bit less severe than usual. He motioned for her to follow, leading the way deeper into the dungeons. Tara kept her pace steady, marveling at the winding passages they passed. There were so many corridors that felt abandoned and lifeless down here even if they were clean and dust free from the caretaking of the house elves.

The deeper they got, the more the walls seemed to pulse with the history of centuries of magic. The eerie glow of the torches flickered as they walked aided that feeling greatly.

After several turns and a spiral staircase down two levels, they arrived at a large, reinforced door, adorned with ancient runes that hummed with magic. Snape turned to her, his expression serious. "This is the entrance to the restricted area," he said, pulling a key from his belt. The soft click of the lock was the only sound before the door creaked open, revealing the hidden space within.

The room felt more like a chaotic intersection of a supply closet and a potions classroom, though infinitely more secretive and sacred in its disarray. Shelves in every corner groaned under the weight of countless jars and vials, some of them older than most buildings in the castle, their surfaces dusted with a fine layer of age. Ingredients—some mundane, some rare—were strewn about haphazardly, their labels half-faded or forgotten. But this wasn’t just a place for storage; it was the beating heart of a secret, the laboratory for Snape’s deepest and most dangerous experiments. The air was thick with the scent of herbs, chemicals, and something far more intangible—an essence of magic older than most of the spells taught at Hogwarts.

Tara stepped inside, taking in the room's unique mix of calculated chaos. It wasn’t just a potion maker’s domain; it was a space where the boundaries of the craft were being tested, shattered, and remade. There were no neatly labeled rows of ingredients here—no careful organization of commonly used potions. Instead, the walls were lined with bookshelves crammed full of scrolls, charred pages, and heavy tomes. In the center of the room stood a large wooden table, aged and warped from years of use, though meticulously cared for. It was here Snape had worked for almost a decade, unearthing the mysteries hidden within the ancient alchemical text.

"This is where you’ll learn," Snape’s voice interrupted her thoughts, calm but edged with something deeper—something reverential.

Tara’s gaze turned toward the table where, in contrast to the room’s cluttered madness, a single book lay open, its ancient pages yellowed and cracked at the spine. The cover was worn and dark, too faded to read, but the smell of old magic clung to it—more potent than any potion. She stepped closer, entranced by the illustrations and symbols etched into the pages, every curve and line flowing with purpose.

"This," Snape continued, his voice dropping into a quiet reverence, "is the work of one of the most dangerous minds in potion-making history—Maeve Berrylight. She was a nature-witch who lived three centuries ago, long before the rules of modern alchemy were enforced. Some of her methods are... unthinkable today. It’s taken me years just to decipher her writing, let alone begin to recreate her potions." He paused, his sharp eyes glinting with an odd pride. "I’ve made it through about a quarter of it, but with each new brew, the risks grow exponentially."

Tara leaned forward, mesmerized by the complexity of the diagrams. They weren’t mere potion instructions—they were alchemical symphonies, woven together in patterns of magic that felt both wild and refined. The more she studied them, the more she understood how deeply connected they were to the natural world—the way ingredients could be combined not just for their properties, but for their essence. Her fingers itched to try and recreate the brews, to tap into that primal magic.

"You see," Snape added, snapping her out of her reverie, "Maeve's approach to potions was never about just the ingredients. It was about understanding the nature of the ingredients—their essence, their flow. How they interact with each other at a molecular level, and more importantly, how they interact with the world around them."

Tara nodded, her eyes still scanning the page, sensing the very rhythm of the magic. She could feel it—the how and why of a brew, the way each catalyst and stabilizer worked in harmony, pulling the raw power from the ingredients into a single, unified result. She knew it was precise. She knew it was delicate. But there was more—this magic was alive in a way that she hadn’t encountered before.

"I can see it," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "It’s not just about mixing things together. It’s about creating a bond between them—one that takes the very essence of each element and reshapes it."

Snape’s gaze sharpened, and for a moment, he studied her as though she were some rare specimen. "Precisely," he said, voice low. "That’s what makes you different. You don’t just follow the steps; you understand the why behind them. Most students can’t see beyond the formula. But you, Tara... you see the magic."

Her pulse quickened, though she didn’t look away. She knew exactly what he meant. Their precision was the same—both of them were able to manipulate the structure of magic, using catalysts at the right moment, knowing when and how to stabilize a brew, understanding that some elements could be swapped while others were non-negotiable.

Her eyes flicked to the vials lined up along the workbench, catching the light of the dimly flickering candles. Snape moved among them with practiced ease, his fingers brushing against each container, always sure of the ingredient he sought. There were dragon heartstrings, shimmering like pale silk, and a vial of unicorn tears that caught the light in a way that felt almost ethereal. The more Tara looked, the more she realized this wasn’t just a lab—it was a treasure trove of the rarest and most dangerous substances imaginable.

Snape didn’t pause. He grabbed a vial filled with a thick, amber liquid, its surface alive with tiny, swirling sparks.

"This," he said, turning back to Tara, "is an incredibly concentrated form of Clarity Sage. A rare herb that sharpens the mind, strengthens cognitive ability. But it can be... addictive. Used properly, it will help you focus—help you understand things faster. But abuse it, and the mind begins to lose its grip on reality."

Tara accepted the vial, her fingers brushing his in the process. For a moment, her heartbeat quickened. But she didn’t flinch. She understood the gravity of this moment.

"Six drops," Snape instructed. "No more. And then we begin."

Tara dropped the liquid onto her tongue, feeling the sharp burn as it settled into her senses. The world around her seemed to snap into focus. Her thoughts, already sharp, now felt like a blade cutting through fog.

Snape didn’t wait for her to speak, already moving to the workbench. He began preparing the first brew, setting out glass beakers and twisting the stoppers off jars with a deftness that came only with years of practice. Tara moved to join him, her fingers following his in a silent synchronization. She knew the steps by heart, but it wasn’t just the steps—it was the subtle touch, the slight pause, the way the magic resonated between them, forming something far greater than the sum of its parts.

It was then that she realized what had drawn her here—not just her own potential, but Snape’s. The way he too saw magic not as a set of instructions, but as something alive, something that could be molded, reshaped, and made to sing. She wasn’t just learning from him—she was becoming part of this new path, this path they would walk together.

Tara glanced at him, and for a moment, their eyes met, the intensity between them palpable. Without a word, they resumed their work—potions in the making, magic taking form, and something deeper beginning to unfold between them.

Chapter 5: Turquoise of Transformation

Snape turned slowly to the ever-boiling cauldron, its contents glowing with an ethereal, brilliant turquoise. The liquid swirled and shimmered with an almost hypnotic beauty. He stared into the cauldron for a long moment, as though lost in its depths.

"I’ve been working on this particular brew since July," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "The Turquoise of Transformation is a delicate potion, capable of altering materials in ways that reveal the hidden nature of their essence."

Tara stood closer now, her eyes wide with anticipation. The potion’s glow reflected in her gaze, a clear signal of her curiosity and interest.

"Watch closely," Snape continued, turning to retrieve several different materials from the workbench. He laid them before him—wood, stone, glass, and paper. "Each of these substances reacts differently with the potion’s magic. I’ve documented the results extensively, but I need your help with the next phase of testing."

He gestured to the first material: a small piece of wood. Snape took the T.o.T. potion carefully and, with a fluid motion, poured it over the wood. Tara gasped as she watched the wood react. Almost immediately, the bark seemed to pulse with life, and tiny roots began to sprout, pushing out from the edges of the wood. Within moments, delicate green leaves unfurled from the branches. The wood, once dead and dry, was now a thriving sapling, growing rapidly in the brief time it took for Snape to look away and back again.

"Wood," Snape said, observing the transformation, "responds to the potion’s magic by returning to life—at least, a form of life. It embraces the essence of growth. The organic material becomes renewed, as though it were being reborn."

Tara nodded in awe, her hand brushing over the leaves, which felt cool and soft to the touch. "Incredible."

Snape's gaze moved to the next item: a small, crumpled sheet of paper. With a slight flick of his wrist, the potion poured over the paper. Tara barely had time to register the change before the paper began to crackle. The edges curled and blackened, flames dancing along the surface. Within moments, the paper had turned to ash, consumed entirely by the fire.

"Paper," Snape explained, "is made of processed wood pulp. Unlike the wood, which is organic and capable of regeneration, the paper’s transformation is destructive. The T.o.T. potion causes it to combust, burning away its structure instead of fostering new growth."

Tara jotted down notes, her mind racing to understand the interplay between the substances. "So, it’s the processing that makes the difference?"

"Exactly," Snape confirmed, his voice sharp. "Processed materials—whether paper or otherwise—lack the vitality to adapt to the transformation. Instead, the potion accelerates their degradation."

Next, Snape reached for a smooth, unremarkable stone. The turquoise liquid was spooned onto its surface, and Tara watched with bated breath as the stone began to crack. The once solid rock fractured, its edges crumbling and losing their strength. The stone’s integrity dissolved into dust, leaving behind a brittle, almost sand-like substance.

"Stone," Snape said, "reacts in the opposite way from wood. It loses its strength and structure. The potion breaks down its cohesion, turning it fragile and brittle. It is, in essence, undone."

Tara’s gaze shifted to the final material—a shard of glass. Snape poured the potion onto the crystal, and the transformation was immediate. The glass, once rigid and clear, began to soften and warp. The shard melted into a flexible, sticky substance, like a molten putty that could be molded into any shape.

"Glass, despite its inorganic nature, responds to the potion similarly to wood." Glass is a form of stone—made from quartz—yet it does not resist the transformation. Instead, it becomes the epitome of malleable material. Where stone becomes brittle, glass becomes the pinnacle of flexibility, as though it were clay or soft metal."

Tara could hardly contain her excitement. "It almost switches the qualities of the substance but not entirely."

Snape’s gaze turned approving, though it was fleeting. "Precisely. And apparently, the T.o.T. is meant to alter potions. I’m ready to explore what happens when we apply this to potions, to study what effects it creates in them."

He paused, fixing her with an intent look. "This is where I require your labor and your expertise."

Tara felt a thrill of anticipation surge through her. "You want me to help test them?"

"Yes," Snape replied, his voice low but commanding. I also want your skill at brewing to make the necessary potions. I don’t have the time to brew them all and experiment at the pace I want to tackle it. Then there is the matter of having a second person for evidence and safety."

Tara nodded eagerly. "I’m ready for this, Professor. You picked the right person."

Snape’s lips twitched in what could almost be considered a smile. "Good. I want you to do some work with the turquoise on single substances until you can present me with a working theorem on what the turquoise does. Once I think you’ve captured the essence of it, we will begin the combinations with first year course work."

"Understood," Tara replied with excitement in her voice. The possibilities seemed endless, and as she looked at Snape, she knew that this was only the beginning of a journey into unknown magical realms. Together, they would uncover secrets that few could even imagine.

“You may begin this evening.” He said and he pulled up a chair to study the ancient tome while Tara utilized the workbench to see what happened to a variety of potions ingredients when the T.o.T. was applied to them.



After hours of experimentation, Snape broke the silence. "It’s late. You should head to bed. You’ve made good progress tonight."

Tara nodded, her mind still buzzing with all she'd seen and learned that evening. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she said quietly, her voice filled with sincere gratitude, “This is going to be a more profound opportunity than I could even have imagined.”

Snape gave a brief nod, his usual impassive demeanor returning. "You’re welcome. But remember, this is an opportunity you can lose. Blabber about it and you’ll find you can no longer remember what it was you were working on."

It was a threat and Tara knew it but she wasn’t worried. She had no intention of sharing this secret with anyone.

Chapter 6: Brewing Under PressureThe days blurred together in a whirl of boiling cauldrons, parchment filled with notes, and the ever-constant hum of magic in the air. By early October, Tara had settled into a regular rhythm: school during the day, research and experimentation, or the prep work for it, in the evenings.

Tara had almost immediately understood the nature of the T.o.T. potion and when he administered an oral exam on it she explained it thusly: the Turquoise of Transformation inverts the qualities of that which it interacts with then does something adjacent to the pure opposite. It is never the exact opposite. In some ways the T.o.T. behaved as if it had a personality or a sense of humor. Like it chose the most entertaining opposite effect. While it wasn’t nearly technical enough to actually explain the behavior of the bold potion, it did allow her to predict the effects that it would have on objects and ingredients.

With that in her brain, they moved on to the potion combinations which meant that it was time for Tara to be brewing the basic potions they’d be experimenting on. This kept Tara occupied every night but Saturday when she made herself spend time with her roommates instead.

Each of her working evenings, she would retreat to the lab after dinner. During the first week, they had turned the Hair-Raising Solution into a hair remover. Once that one had proved stable through their experimentation, Tara had shared it with the Hufflepuff ladies allowing them to all have perfectly smooth legs.

In their second week, she and Snape explored the T.o.T. in a Strengthening solution. They found it created a false enfeeblement. They’d fed it to some test animals before determining it wasn’t toxic. The following meeting they’d each taken a turn drinking it. They felt feeble and frail but they could still do everything they could before and it wore off after about an hour. Now in their third week, Mid-October, they were ready to try the forgetfulness potion.

The Forgetfulness potion shimmered in the cauldron, its lavender surface unnaturally still. Tara watched as Snape measured the turquoise with precise movements, his long fingers steady as he tapped the powder into the potion. The mixture rippled once, then stilled, the color deepening to an iridescent indigo.

Snape’s brow furrowed. “It’s reacting differently than the others.”

“Is that bad?” Tara asked, her voice soft.

“Not necessarily,” Snape replied, his gaze sharp and assessing. “But be cautious.”

They leaned over the cauldron, their breaths synchronized as the potion began to emit a soft, pulsating hum. Then, with a flash like the flick of a wand, it surged outward, tendrils of vapor curling into the air.

Before Tara could speak, her vision blurred, and the room around her seemed to melt away into a swirl of silvery indigo.



She was standing on a grassy field under a pale gray sky. A boy, perhaps eight or nine years old, with lank black hair and a guarded expression, sat cross-legged in the grass. It was Snape or she was Snape. She wasn’t just watching but feeling. Opposite him was a girl with vivid red hair, laughing as she conjured a tiny glowing bird from the tip of her wand.

“Lily,” the boy whispered, his voice tinged with awe. She felt his unbridled devotion to her.

The memory scenery shifted, folding in on itself like a page turning in a book. Tara blinked, and now she was in a warmly lit kitchen. She was a younger version of herself, no more than five, standing on a stool, stirring a cauldron under her father’s watchful eye, his warmth on her back.

“You’re doing it, Tara! See how the potion turns gold? That’s perfect!” her father exclaimed, pride evident in his voice. She felt Snape there inside of that moment and inside of her body too, experiencing her feelings. Tara felt his visceral reaction that this wasn’t anything like his childhood.

As soon as that thought was shared between them the scene of Tara’s first potion dissolved, and Tara barely had time to register her surroundings: a worn-down house with shabby furnishings before she felt fear—sharp and overwhelming. She was crouched in the corner of a dimly lit room. A man’s shadow loomed, his voice raised in anger. Her father was going to hurt her… but it wasn’t her father. It was Snape’s father. The names Tobias filled her mind. Little Snape couldn’t wait to go to school to escape this.

Another shift. Tara was older, standing on the Gregorian knot in the middle of the wooden statues of Ilvermorny’s Great Hall. All but the wampus statue glimmered to life reacting with the want to have her in their house. “Horned Serpent,” she said confidently, declaring her choice. Her voice was steady despite the swirling emotions in her chest that she’d been wanted by so many houses.

The memories began to blur together, flowing faster now. They were Snape at his sorting, Tara at her sorting just a few months ago.

Snape at a Slug Club meeting, his face smug as Slughorn heaped praise on his brewing skills.

Child Tara, pretending to be a bride, a curtain draped over her head like a veil, giggling as she tossed imaginary bouquets to an invisible crowd.

Snape, a teenager now, his eyes lingering on Lily’s smile, a longing in his chest so raw it felt like it would consume him.

Tara’s first kiss—awkward, fleeting, but magical all the same.

Each memory bled into the next, pulling Snape and Tara along a tide of emotions they couldn’t control. It was dizzying, intimate, and terrifying. The cauldron was no longer just a potion; it was a mirror, reflecting their lives back at one another in vivid, painful detail. It selected a mix of formative memories and insignificant ones.

With a monumental effort, Snape wrenched his gaze from the spiraling memories and shouted, “Enough!”

The spell broke. The room snapped back into focus. The potion’s vapor was dissipating but as a precaution Snape flicked his wand and vanished the contents of the cauldron. Tara panted with the intensity of it all



The silence that followed was suffocating.

Tara’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. Snape’s face was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on her with a mixture of anger and something far more vulnerable.

“I didn’t mean to—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Stop.” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “You had no right—” He stopped himself, turning sharply away from her. His hands gripped the edge of the worktable, knuckles white.

“You saw mine too,” Tara said quietly. She stepped closer, though her legs felt like jelly. “It wasn’t just me.”

Snape’s head snapped, his expression cold and unyielding. But beneath the surface was a flicker of something else. Shame? Regret?

“I did not ask to see your life,” he said, his voice clipped. “Nor did I wish to share mine.”

“I didn’t either,” Tara replied, her voice gaining strength. “But it happened. And you know what? I don’t regret it.”

His eyes narrowed. “You should.”

She shook her head. “No. Because now I understand. You’ve been carrying so much—”

“Do not presume to understand me,” Snape said sharply. But there was less venom in his voice now, the anger tempered by exhaustion.

Tara met his gaze, unwavering. “I don’t presume. I just… I saw. And I felt it.” She hesitated, then added, “And I don’t think you’re as alone as you think you are.”

For a moment, Snape didn’t reply. The room was silent except for the faint crackle of the fire in the corner. Then he straightened, pulling the mask of indifference back over his face.

“This experiment is over for tonight,” he said curtly, gathering his robes around him. Without another word, he swept from the room, leaving Tara alone with the lingering echoes of their shared memories.

Chapter 7: Breaking Point

The late evening air inside the potions laboratory was heavy with the scent of herbs and faintly acrid from evaporating fumes. Tara’s hand trembled as she adjusted the flame beneath her cauldron, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool temperature. Her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, the result of nights spent chasing answers—answers she couldn’t find in sleep.

This was the fifth night in a row she had stayed well past curfew, the laboratory her refuge and torment. Snape hadn’t been here for two weeks, but his presence was everywhere. The workbench was cleaner than she left it the night before. A stack of books she hadn’t touched had moved slightly. There was always proof he’d been here after she left, and that knowledge gnawed at her.

A pang of frustration coursed through her as she swayed on her feet, forcing herself upright. She’d come earlier tonight, hoping to confront him. She needed to resolve the unspoken tensions lingering between them. But, like every other night, she was too late or too early.

The swirling potion in her cauldron blurred before her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. She refused to leave. Not yet. She was here for him the way she wished he would be here for her following the emotionally intense evening with the inverted Forgetfulness Potion. That didn’t change the fact that she was at risk of dosing off directly into the cauldron in front of her.

The silence of the room was broken by the unmistakable rustle of robes.

“Miss Lionheart.”

Her hand jerked, nearly tipping over a vial of crushed asphodel. She spun around to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever, though his eyes locked onto hers with a sharpness that made her heart pound.

Tara straightened, trying to summon the strength to hold his gaze. “Professor,” she said, her voice scratchy from disuse. “I’ve been waiting.”

Snape’s eyes flicked to the cauldron, then to her face, lingering on the dark circles beneath her eyes and the tight line of her mouth. “Waiting,” he repeated, his tone cold. “Do you have any idea how reckless you’ve been?”

“I’m fine,” Tara snapped, the words coming too quickly, her voice too loud in the quiet room. “I can handle it.”

Snape’s expression hardened. “Your hands are shaking,” he said, each word clipped and precise. “Your eyes are barely open. If you think this—” he gestured to the potion, “—is worth your health, you are gravely mistaken.”

Her frustration boiled over, fueled by exhaustion and the two weeks of his avoidance. “You don’t get to lecture me about mistakes,” she shot back. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Snape’s lips thinned, but he said nothing, his dark gaze narrowing. Tara pressed on, unable to stop herself. “You’ve been here,” she accused. “I see the changes every night. You’ve been working, but you won’t even speak to me.”

For a moment, Snape didn’t respond, the weight of his silence pressing on her like a stone. Then, his voice came, low and dangerous. “This is not about me.”

“Yes, it is!” Tara’s voice cracked. “You’re angry because of what happened, but it wasn’t just my memories. You saw mine. I saw yours. And now you’re punishing me by acting like none of it mattered.”

Snape’s face went cold, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something she couldn’t place. “You presume too much,” he said softly, his voice like a blade sliding into its sheath. “What I do outside of this room is none of your concern.”

Tara’s hands clenched into fists, her fatigue making her reckless. “And what I do here isn’t yours.” She said it but she didn’t believe it. She was here because she wanted his concern, because she wanted to help the hurting heart she touched. To do so she invoked all of the things that made her a Hufflepuff: hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play… well maybe not fair play… these late nights had started to become a kind of trap she was setting for him.

Snape approached, his presence filling the room. “Your well-being is my concern,” he said sharply, the words cutting through her defenses. “Whether you accept it or not.”

Tara’s defiance faltered as her vision swam. The room tilted, and she reached out to steady herself against the counter. Snape’s hand shot out, gripping her arm before she could fall.

“Enough,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “This ends now.”

Tara tried to pull away, but her strength was gone. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but the words sounded weak even to her.

Snape’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze boring into hers. “No,” he said simply. “You’re not.”

Without another word, he pulled a vial from his robes and pressed it into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered.

Tara stared at the potion, her stubbornness warring with her exhaustion. “I don’t need—”

“Drink,” Snape repeated, his voice like iron.

Her hands shook as she uncorked the vial. The potion was bitter, its taste lingering on her tongue like regret. Warmth spread through her body, easing the tension in her muscles. Her eyelids grew heavy, the world blurring at the edges.

Snape’s voice followed her into the darkness. “Rest, Miss Lionheart. The world will still be here when you wake.”

As sleep claimed her, Tara thought she saw something shift in his expression—a fleeting softness, gone as quickly as it came.

Chapter 8: Shifting Dynamics

The morning light filtered softly through the dormitory windows as Tara stirred from her first proper rest in weeks. The remnants of the Dreamless Sleep potion still left her mind in a hazy calm, a rare moment of peace she hadn’t allowed herself in what felt like an eternity. But as the clarity of wakefulness set in, so did the memory of Snape’s sharp words, his unwavering gaze, and her own uncharacteristic vulnerability.

Tara avoided the restricted laboratory that night. Shame gnawed at her, making the thought of stepping back into that room unbearable. She busied herself with her classes the next day, though a cloud of unease hovered over her. The thought of Snape—how he had seen her so unravelled—kept replaying in her mind. She doubted she could meet his eyes again without flushing with humiliation.

The next day was Tara’s seventeenth birthday, marking her turn into adulthood among wizardingkind. That morning, she awoke to the sound of rustling paper and whispered excitement.

“Happy birthday, Tara!” Nymphadora Tonks announced, her hair a vivid magenta that matched her exuberance. She thrust a brightly wrapped package into Tara’s lap.

“Happy birthday!” Penny Haywood and Chiara Lobosca chimed in, each holding smaller wrapped gifts.

Tara blinked at them, startled by the attention, before breaking into a sheepish smile. “Thanks, you lot.”

Tonks plopped herself onto the edge of Tara’s bed, grinning ear to ear. “Come on, open mine first! It’s the big one, naturally.”

Tara chuckled, shaking her head at Tonks’s enthusiasm, and began peeling away the brightly colored paper. Inside was a polished leather apothecary case with intricate stitching that shimmered faintly in the morning light.

“It’s enchanted,” Tonks said proudly, tapping the case with her wand. The compartments inside rearranged themselves with a soft hum, revealing labeled slots for ingredients, cooling charms, and a hidden pocket that folded seamlessly into the design. “I figured someone as brilliant at potions as you needed storage to match.”

Tara ran her fingers over the supple leather, her eyes wide with awe. “Tonks... this is amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You could say I’m the best roommate ever,” Tonks teased, though there was a genuine warmth behind her grin.

Penny stepped forward next, holding out her neatly wrapped gift with a bright smile. “Here’s mine! I hope it’s as useful as it is pretty.”

Tara opened the silver wrapping carefully, revealing a leather-bound journal embossed with an image of a bubbling cauldron. When she opened it, the pages shimmered as golden script scrawled itself across the first page:

“For the brilliant potion-maker, Tara Lionheart. May your experiments always lead to discovery.”

“Penny, this is beautiful,” Tara said, flipping through the enchanted pages. She watched as they automatically shifted, rearranging themselves into sections that would keep her notes organized. “I’ve been meaning to get my notes sorted. This will save me hours!”

“That’s the idea,” Penny said with a laugh. “Now you can spend more time brewing and less time rewriting.”

Finally, Chiara stepped forward, her soft smile as warm as the sunlight streaming through the window. She handed Tara a small velvet pouch. “It’s not as grand as theirs,” she said modestly, “but I thought it might help.”

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, its chain adorned with tiny glass charms shaped like potion bottles. As Tara held it up, the charms caught the light, glowing faintly.

“It’s charmed with calming properties,” Chiara explained. “For when you’re feeling overwhelmed. I know how hard you’ve been working lately.”

Tara fastened the bracelet around her wrist, the gentle warmth of its magic soothing her immediately. “Chiara, it’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

The girls exchanged a round of hugs, Tonks grinning as she declared, “Alright, now that we’ve made you all emotional, let’s get to breakfast. Bet the Great Hall’s got something special for you, birthday girl!”

Tara laughed as she was pulled to her feet, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Surrounded by her friends and their thoughtful gifts, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for the people who had made her birthday unforgettable.

The day passed in a flurry of well-wishes from classmates and friends. Charlie Weasley caught her in the Great Hall with a hearty clap on the back, while Talbott Winger offered a quiet but sincere "Happy birthday" as they passed in the corridors. For once, Tara allowed herself to enjoy the camaraderie, the lightness of the day.

That weekend, Tara took her first Apparition class. The thrill of the new magic was tempered by the immense concentration it demanded. Still, she found herself smiling as she practiced alongside her peers, the weight of her previous overwork fading into a more manageable determination.

Sunday brought a rare, carefree day with her friends. As they lounged by the Black Lake, sharing stories and laughter, Penny tilted her head curiously.

"You’ve been so... present lately," she said, her tone both teasing and curious. "Not that we’re complaining, but it’s like you’ve suddenly discovered the concept of free time."

Tara forced a laugh, her mind racing. "Oh, you know, I just realized I was overdoing it a bit. Thought I’d ease up before I burnt out completely." She avoided their questioning gazes, the lie sitting uncomfortably on her tongue.

By Monday, however, Tara felt the familiar pull of the restricted potions laboratory. She hadn’t dared venture near it since her confrontation with Snape, but she missed the quiet intensity of their research and—if she were honest with herself—his company.

When she arrived for her Potions class Tuesday, she found a folded piece of parchment waiting at her usual seat. Her heart skipped a beat as she unfolded it, recognizing the precise, sharp handwriting immediately.

Miss Lionheart,
If you are inclined to continue our research, meet me in the laboratory tomorrow night.

There was no signature, but none was needed.

Tara felt her cheeks warm as she read and reread the note, her fingers smoothing the edges of the parchment almost reverently. She slipped it into her pocket, suppressing the smile threatening to spread across her face.

As class began, Snape strode to the front of the room, his robes billowing behind him as he launched into his lecture with his usual precision and authority. Tara took notes diligently, but her mind kept drifting back to the note tucked safely away in her pocket.

Snape’s sharp gaze scanned the room as he asked a question, his tone cutting, but he didn’t linger on Tara. In fact, he seemed to avoid meeting her eyes entirely, treating her with the same detached professionalism he extended to everyone else. Yet, for once, his near-ignoring her didn’t bother her in the slightest.

She had the note. He wanted her back in the laboratory. That knowledge alone made her pulse race and her focus sharpen.

As the class wore on, she found herself almost enjoying the faint thrill of this secret understanding between them. Let him keep his stoic façade for now. Tomorrow night, she would return to the laboratory, ready to prove herself—and perhaps, to understand him just a little better.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, her thoughts entirely on the prospect of resuming their work. And as the clock ticked toward the evening, Tara sat straighter, her determination renewed.

Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter 9: The Elixir of the Moonlit Veil

Tara hesitated outside the door to the restricted potions lab, fingers lingering just inches from the handle. She had been waiting for this moment for weeks, waiting to be face to face with him after being inside on another’s memories. Now she was frozen, uncertain of what would transpire once she crossed the threshold.

Summoning her courage, she took a deep breath and entered with purpose. The familiar scent of herbs and potion fumes immediately embraced her, grounding her in the safe space where countless nights had been spent in pursuit of knowledge.

Snape stood at the far end of the room, his back to her as he studied an ancient tome. The air was thick with the weight of something unsaid, but his posture—rigid and focused—made it difficult for her to read. Despite the cool, clinical exterior, she could sense something softer, something more human, beneath the surface.

“You’re here,” Snape’s voice was low, almost as though he were reminding himself as much as her.

“I’m here,” Tara replied, her voice steady but carrying the faint tremor of anticipation. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, her heart skipping a beat.

Snape turned toward her then, his eyes sharp and assessing. But there was something else in the quiet way he looked at her—an unspoken apology hidden beneath his usual mask of indifference.

“Tonight we will be doing something different,” Snape continued, his voice deepening as he gestured to the open tome before him. “We are attempting something that has not been brewed in over three hundred years: The Elixir of the Moonlit Veil.”

She had been waiting for this. The book’s pages were filled with fascinating accounts of magical potions, some forgotten, some dangerous, all compelling. But the one that had caught her eye was the Elixir of the Moonlit Veil—a potion that enhanced magical abilities based on the phase of the moon.

She had brought it up to Snape once, eager to try it, but he had shut her down immediately, calling it “an ancient and reckless concoction.” That he was offering it to her now, after everything, told her everything she needed to know. He was bending, yielding to her.

Tara nodded, her eyes flicking over the recipe again, taking in the steps, the ingredients, and the complexity of the brew. “What made you change your mind on this one?”

Snape’s gaze softened, a brief flicker of honesty breaking through his usual guarded exterior. “I discovered that I know you can handle it—once I reflected upon what I learned about you.” His words were direct, and though unexpected, they were a welcome honesty.

He added a few delicate pinches of Bermuda seeds to the cauldron, then gave her a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “You may also consider it a… birthday gift of sorts,” he added, as though the idea had just occurred to him.

“Well, I did always want to see if this potion really worked,” Tara said lightly, watching as the moonstone sparkled in the air before settling into the mixture with a soft glow. “You’ve got to admit, it sounds like an absolute thrill.”

Snape’s gaze flicked to her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but there was no disapproval. Only a hint of amusement. “A thrill indeed. But be warned, Miss Lionheart. The magic in this potion is… potent. You will feel its effects. Whether you want to or not.”

“I’m counting on it,” Tara grinned, her excitement mounting. This wasn’t just a lesson in potion-making anymore; this was an adventure.

Snape motioned for her to come closer. “We begin with the moonstone dust. The precision required is paramount; too coarse, and it will lose its power. Too fine, and the magic will overwhelm the potion.”

Tara stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she carefully ground the moonstone. Her mind whirled with thoughts she hadn’t expected. For weeks, Snape had kept his distance—but tonight, as he spoke to her with the same measured patience as ever, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of this moment as something more than just a lesson. This was an offering, a gesture of something deeper.

She met Snape’s gaze for a fleeting moment, and in that exchange, she saw the faintest flicker of remorse in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual impassive expression.

Once the moonstone dust was prepared, Snape handed her a vial of moonroot tincture. “This stabilizer will amplify the potion’s potency without tipping it into chaos. Add it carefully.”

Tara accepted the vial, her hands trembling slightly as she added the liquid to the cauldron. The moment it touched the surface, a soft, shimmering glow filled the air. Snape’s gaze softened as he watched her, his attention patient, approving.

For a moment, the unspoken tension between them seemed to settle into the background as Tara worked, following Snape’s instructions with practiced care. She added the silverthorn extract, aware of its volatility and the fine line between success and disaster. The cauldron pulsed with life, the magic responding to her steady hand.

“The final step requires your full concentration,” Snape’s voice took on a more serious tone. “You must stir in the figure-eight pattern to mimic the changing phases of the moon. Failure to do so will render the potion useless.”

Tara nodded, drawing the ladle from the side of the cauldron and beginning the slow, rhythmic motion. The potion shimmered in response, glowing like moonlight in the darkened room. As she stirred, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of Snape’s gaze on her—soft, almost tender—but still bound by formality, as though he were allowing this connection only in this fleeting moment before retreating behind the walls he had so carefully constructed.

“The potion is complete,” Snape declared finally, his voice low. Yet there was a distinct edge of approval in it. “But we will not know its true effects until you drink it.”

Tara’s heart beat faster. She knew this moment was about more than just the potion—it was an acknowledgment, a kind of gift, a quiet apology for all the weeks of distance between them. She glanced at the shimmering liquid before her, its surface reflecting the faint light of the waxing quarter moon outside.

Snape handed her a vial, his fingers brushing hers in the briefest of contacts. His usual restraint was still there, but this—this gesture was different. It was a gift wrapped in the guise of a lesson. The silence between them stretched, both of them aware that this moment carried weight that words could not express.

Tara took the vial, feeling the pulse of magic humming through her fingers. She met Snape’s gaze, searching for any hint of what he wasn’t saying. His eyes flicked to hers for a brief second, and in that fleeting moment, she felt a shift. There was something more in his gaze now—something softer, something that spoke of regret.

Without waiting for further instruction, Tara uncorked the vial and drank. She saw that Snape followed her example, tipping the liquid back. The potion slid down her throat, cool and smooth, its magic vibrant as it settled deep within her chest. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a sharp, tingling rush spread through her limbs, her vision sharpening until every detail of the room seemed to glow with unnatural clarity. The magic of the Elixir coursed through her veins, connecting her to the moonlight outside and the pulse of the universe itself.

Tara exhaled slowly, her breath quickening. She felt alive—more so than ever before—and yet, beneath the surge of magic, there was a quiet hum of connection between her and Snape. She turned to him, her voice trembling with awe. “It’s… extraordinary.”

Snape’s gaze softened, though his words remained measured. “Power is a dangerous thing, Miss Lionheart. It can amplify your strengths, but it can also amplify your desires… your need for more.”

Tara nodded, her hands tingling with the energy flowing through her. She knew this power could easily overwhelm her, but something in Snape’s warning—soft yet firm—grounded her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of meaning. The words hung in the air between them, a silent acknowledgment of the gift, the apology, and the unspoken understanding that this night was more than just another lesson. It was a step toward healing the distance that had kept them apart.

“You’re welcome,” Snape replied, his tone equally soft, before adding, “Now, follow me and we will go experiment properly.”

Chapter 10: Unleashing the DarkThe classroom was a stark contrast to the dim, shadowy potions lab. Shelves lined with books on spells and hexes covered the walls, while the center of the room featured a series of enchanted targets and mannequins—perfect for practical spellwork. The air hummed with energy, as if the space itself was charged with magic, anticipating what would come next. Tara felt it instantly. The familiar pulse of magic from the Elixir coursed through her veins, heightening every sense and making her skin tingle. It was a heady sensation, and she reveled in it.

Snape led her into the room with a practiced step. He gave her a silent look, a subtle invitation to begin. Tara met his gaze, feeling an unspoken challenge.

"Try a simple jinx, Miss Lionheart," Snape's voice was cool, but there was a glint of something new in his eyes, something different from the usual controlled reserve.

Tara nodded, taking a steadying breath. She had grown accustomed to the weight of his gaze, even enjoyed it now. There was power in it, in his scrutiny. "Jinxing a target, right?" she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

"Precisely," Snape replied, his eyes never leaving her as he waited for her to move.

Tara raised her wand, and the words came naturally. "Petrificus Totalus," she whispered, flicking her wrist. The target in front of her froze instantly, locking into a solid, immobile position.

A slight nod from Snape acknowledged her success. "Good," he said, his tone almost warmer than usual, but still tinged with something calculated. He hit the other spell dummy with a "Bombarda," the explosion echoing through the room, sending a cascade of sparks and debris.

Tara's pulse quickened, feeling the rush of magic in the air. She was no longer just practicing; she was alive with the energy of it. They continued hurling an escalating series of jinxes and spells at the dummies, pushing each other to greater and greater feats of skill and precision. The air crackled with the intensity of the duel, their spells colliding with a force that rattled the walls. Tara felt a fierce joy build inside her, the challenge drawing out her best.

Eventually, they paused to catch their breath, standing opposite one another, both panting slightly but with the adrenaline still humming through their veins.

Snape was the first to speak. "Impressive, Miss Lionheart," he said, his voice holding a note of approval. "You’ve improved considerably."

Tara wiped her brow, her heart still pounding. She grinned, exhilarated by the challenge. "You’re not too bad yourself, Professor," she said, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "But, I was thinking… What would you say to raising the stakes?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, a flicker of interest crossing his face, though he maintained his usual reserve. "What did you have in mind?"

Tara's grin widened. "A duel," she said, her voice dripping with anticipation. "I haven’t gotten to do much practical dueling recently, and I think I’m ready for something more... personal."

For a moment, Snape was silent, his gaze considering her. Tara could feel the weight of his assessment, his eyes weighing the challenge she’d just laid down. It was rare that anyone dared to challenge him in his element, but Tara wasn’t anyone.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Very well, Miss Lionheart," he said, his voice low and calculated. "A duel it is. But be warned—I do not intend to go easy on you."

Tara's heart skipped a beat. There was a dangerous edge to his words, a promise that this would be unlike any other sparring session they’d had. But she welcomed it, her own pulse quickening with excitement.

Snape stepped back, his wand poised at the ready. "Ready yourself," he commanded, his voice suddenly sharp.

Tara raised her wand, her focus honing in on the duel ahead. The room seemed to fall away as she centered herself, every nerve alight with anticipation. She could feel the power surging in her veins, her connection to the Elixir enhancing her senses, making everything feel sharper, clearer.

"Furnunculus!" she shouted, sending a surge of magic toward him, intending to cover him in boils. The spell ricocheted off an invisible barrier around him, dissipating harmlessly.

Snape smirked, clearly not impressed. With a flick of his wrist, he cast "Expelliarmus," the charm fast and forceful. Tara had no time to react—her wand flew from her hand, spinning through the air.

“Recoup your wand and we’ll begin again.”

The next time Snape flung a spell at her, Tara was ready, her body already moving before she realized it. "Deflecto!" she called, and the charm ricocheted back toward him, but Snape was faster. He dodged, the spell grazing his robes, sending a small trail of sparks into the air.

"Impressive," he murmured, though there was no warmth in his words—only the cold, calculated gaze of a master watching his pupil. "You’ve learned quickly."

“Always.” They went round after round until someone was disarmed. He hit her with a stinging jinx once but afterwards she’d managed to keep the remainder of him spell off of her. “Ha, ha! You’re not holding back anymore, are you?"

Snape’s expression darkened slightly, his lips tightening. “You’re wrong.” His seriousness wiped the playfulness from Tara and she locked her attention on her instructor. "Watch carefully," he said, his voice darkening.

"Sectumsempra!" With a flick of his wrist, Snape’s magic erupted into green light, flashing across the room in a blinding burst. Tara felt the air itself thicken with the weight of the dark magic he’d just unleashed and barely had time to register what was happening before the target mannequin in front of her was ripped to pieces—shredded apart as though some invisible blade had torn through it with unrelenting force.

The mannequin was torn apart in a brutal display, its fabric shredded, stuffing spilling from the jagged cuts that had appeared across its body. It crumpled to the floor in a broken spray of bits and pieces. Tara stood frozen, her breath short as she stared at the carnage before her, stunned into silence by the sheer brutality of it.

She could feel her pulse racing, but it was not excitement now. It was a cold, sobering realization of what she had just witnessed. This wasn’t just power—it was violence. It was dark, destructive magic. Magic designed to kill, to maim.

Her voice came out soft, filled with awe, and something else—a quiet understanding. "What does it feel like?" she asked, her eyes still locked on the shattered remnants of the mannequin.

Snape’s expression was unreadable as he lowered his wand. The room had fallen eerily silent, save for the faint hum of magic still lingering in the air. He seemed to consider her question for a moment before answering, his voice low, almost distant.

"Power," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "It feels like nothing... and everything."

Tara took a step closer. She was torn between the fear that gripped her heart and the burning curiosity that had been kindled in her chest. She needed to understand this—needed to know it, feel it.

"Teach me." The words were out before she could stop them—earnest, raw, a silent admission of both fear and desire.

Snape paused. His eyes, cold and calculating, searched hers for a long moment, as if weighing her soul. Then, in silence, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "You truly wish to learn?"

Tara met his gaze without hesitation, her pulse thundering in her ears. "I do," she said, each word a quiet promise. "Teach me. I accept it—the darkness, the power... and you."

For a fleeting second, there was a crack in Snape’s composure, a flicker of something almost human in his expression. It vanished quickly, but not before Tara saw it.

He nodded slowly, the weight of his consent heavy in the air. "You will learn," he said, the gravity of his words pressing down on her like an ancient, inevitable curse. "But understand this: the path you ask to walk will change you. Once you’ve stepped onto it, there is no turning back."

Tara felt a surge of certainty rise within her, as though the very core of her being was aligning with the dark, forbidden path he promised to show her. She didn’t falter. "Then let’s begin," she whispered, her voice steady but full of an undeniable resolve.

Snape nodded once. “Let’s.”

Chapter 11: Something Unspoken

The weeks had passed, each one steeped in the quiet rhythm of lessons, potion-making, and a growing awareness between Snape and Tara. He could not help but notice how their interactions had shifted—how the distance between them, once strictly professional, had subtly shortened. Tara had gone from student to a confident, eager participant in their shared pursuit of magical mastery. And as the days passed, Snape found himself increasingly aware of her presence in ways that both intrigued and unsettled him.

It was in the silence of the potions lab one evening that he first truly recognized how close she had become, not just in proximity but in their shared intensity. She was working at his side, focused on the precise steps of making more Turquoise of Transformation, but the closeness between them felt palpable. He could feel the faint heat of her body, the occasional rustle of her robes as she moved, and the scent of her—a mix of herbs and something faintly floral. It was distracting, in a way that he couldn’t ignore.

Snape cleared his throat, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something unspoken. "Miss Lionheart," he said, turning his attention back to the potion, "while your enthusiasm is commendable, I must insist that you maintain a safe distance. Precision is paramount in potion-making. Distractions can have... undesirable consequences."

Tara straightened slightly, a flicker of apology crossing her face as she nodded. "Sorry, sir. I’ll move back enough to continue, but I don’t want to lose the momentum." She kept working, though her position remained close enough that Snape could still feel the pressure of her presence, just within his peripheral vision.

Despite his attempt at professionalism, a strange tension lingered in the air. Snape tried to focus on the bubbling cauldron before him, the final ingredients slipping in with calculated precision, but his thoughts were no longer as clear as they had been. Tara’s movements, so deliberate, so intent, had an energy that he could feel through the very fabric of the lab. There was something magnetic about the way she worked, and it unsettled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

"As you can see," Snape continued, his voice quieter now, attempting to regain control of the moment, "the interaction between the herbs and minerals requires not just skill, but attunement. Magic must flow through you, not just in the movements of your hands, but through your very essence. It’s a fine balance."

Tara, eyes fixed on the potion, nodded with understanding. "I know, Professor," she said softly, her voice full of intent. "May I show you something? A spell I created to help visualize that connection—might be useful for refining the potion’s essence."

Snape’s brow furrowed, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "Go on," he replied, though the words felt heavier now, as if some unspoken part of him knew what was coming.

Tara’s incantation broke the silence, her words fluid, the gestures that followed smooth and deliberate. Snape watched as thin, almost imperceptible strands of magic began to weave around her hands, tracing the lines of the potion’s creation—flowing with the rhythm of her movements, bending with the timed addition of ingredients. They were the leylines of magic, invisible to most but clear in Tara’s focused spell, illuminating the subtle dance of magic that controlled the potion's transformation. The ethereal strands did not glow brightly enough to light the room but shimmered faintly, casting a delicate pulse of energy around the cauldron.

The room seemed to fall away as Snape watched, his eyes locked on the interplay of magic in the air. It was not just a demonstration of skill but a revelation of something deeper—Tara’s understanding of the potion was not just intellectual, but intrinsic. She was attuned to its magic in a way that Snape had never seen before, and he could feel the precision of her every movement, how the lines of magic bent with every stir of the wrist, how the potion itself responded to her subtle guidance.

"Fascinating," Snape murmured, his voice betraying a rare note of awe. He took a small step forward, unable to tear his gaze away from the magic she had woven, the connection between her and the potion so visible, so undeniable. The energy in the room felt charged, the space between them pulsing with an unspoken intensity.

Tara’s spell reached its crescendo, and for a moment, the air seemed to hum with magic. The faint glow of the ley lines surrounding the cauldron brightened just slightly before fading away, leaving behind only the echo of magic. Snape’s gaze flickered over her—over the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the flush in her cheeks as she concentrated. The tension between them grew thick, the air heavy with something neither of them could ignore. For a moment, the space between them felt too small, too close.

Tara looked up, her eyes meeting his. The moment hung in the air, fragile and suspended. Her breath caught, and she felt the heat rising in her chest once again. She hadn’t expected the spell to have this effect on him. The way his gaze lingered on her, the intensity of the silence—it was almost enough to make her step closer, to break the tension.

But Snape, with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, cleared his throat, as if breaking free from the spell that had taken hold of him. "This technique of yours," he said, his voice rougher than usual, "could prove valuable. It’s a remarkable method for visualizing the subtle energies at work. But we must not forget that magic, in all its power, must be handled with restraint. Even in the most... captivating moments."

Tara’s breath caught at his words, and she felt the heat spread further through her chest. She forced herself to nod, stepping back slightly, her heart pounding. "Of course, Professor," she said, her voice softer now, a whisper in the quiet of the lab. "Wisdom and restraint, always."

Snape’s hand twitched slightly, as if he might reach out to her, but he caught himself before he could act on the impulse. "Yes," he said, his voice low. "Best if you depart now, Miss Lionheart. I must focus on the potion."

Tara hesitated, her eyes searching his face, but Snape’s gaze had already shifted back to the cauldron, his focus resolute once more. The moment had passed, and though the air still felt thick with unspoken words, she knew there was no room for them to speak them now.

"Goodnight, Professor Snape," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her chest still tight with the emotions she couldn’t quite place.

As she made her way to the door, she felt his gaze follow her, but she did not dare turn back. She couldn’t, not when the weight of the unspoken tension still hung in the air.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Snape remained rooted in place, staring into the depths of the cauldron, though his thoughts were far from the potion in front of him. Tara, walking slowly back to the Hufflepuff common room, felt a rush of conflicting emotions surge through her. The heat of his gaze, the fleeting moment of connection—it was all too much to ignore. But as the door had closed behind her, she had left with more questions than answers.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, but whether it was the beginning of something new, or simply the echo of something that could never be, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she couldn’t forget the way he had looked at her.

Chapter 12: A Touch of Heart

The dungeon lab was cloaked in its usual shadows, the air heavy with the mingling scents of asphodel and powdered root of aconite. Severus Snape moved with precision, his long fingers deftly measuring ingredients, his quill scratching across a battered notebook as he recorded the latest iteration of his experiment. His black robes swirled faintly with each sharp turn as he darted between shelves and cauldrons.

The potion before him hissed softly, releasing a plume of pale green vapor that coiled upward like a snake. It was progressing, but not perfectly. A slight imbalance in the reaction told him as much. He frowned, a muscle in his jaw tightening as he adjusted the flame beneath the cauldron.

The sound of the door creaking open drew his attention. Without looking, he growled, "I believe I requested not to be disturbed."

"Even by me?" came Dumbledore’s calm, knowing voice.

Snape turned, his face impassive, though his dark eyes flickered briefly with surprise. "Headmaster," he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Dumbledore entered the room, his blue robes glimmering faintly in the low light. "Severus, I see your work once again consumes you. How is it?"

Snape hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to the bubbling cauldron. "It is... progressing. The protection potion is nearly stable. If perfected, it will serve as a barrier against physical and magical assaults—practically impenetrable."

"An admirable goal," Dumbledore said, his tone warm but probing. He moved closer, peering at the cauldron. "You’ve always had an exceptional talent for potions, Severus. I sometimes wonder what first drew you to the craft."

Snape’s jaw tightened. "Talent is meaningless without purpose."

"And yet," Dumbledore mused, his gaze sharp despite the softness of his voice, "purpose often springs from places we don’t expect. Do you remember what first inspired you to pursue this path?"

For a moment, Snape’s hand froze mid-motion, the pestle poised above a bowl of crushed Sopophorous beans. His throat tightened, and memories rose unbidden: a flash of fiery red hair, a warm laugh, the sting of his own words as he spat the slur that drove her away.

He didn’t answer immediately, his voice low when he finally spoke. "It doesn’t matter why I began. What matters is what I do now."

Dumbledore studied him, the silence stretching like the weight of a potion that had been simmering too long. "Ah, but I think it does matter, Severus. I suspect your dedication to potions began as an attempt to impress someone. Someone you admire deeply. Am I wrong?"

Snape’s expression darkened, his voice sharp. "If you have a point, Headmaster, I suggest you make it."

Dumbledore sighed gently, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "You loved Lily Evans. And when you lost her, you sought redemption in the only ways you knew how. Your mastery of potions became a tribute to her memory—a way to cling to the hope that you could create something extraordinary, even after losing something precious."

Snape’s grip tightened on the edge of the worktable, his knuckles white. He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

"You are a man of remarkable skill," Dumbledore continued. "But I wonder, Severus, if your position as Potions Master here is not just about your talent. Perhaps it also serves as a tether—a way to stay connected to Lily, to the promise you made to her."

At this, Snape’s head snapped up, his dark eyes blazing. "I do what I must, Albus. I vowed to protect her son. Do not romanticize my reasons."

"I would never," Dumbledore said softly. "But neither will I deny the complexity of your choices. Your work here—your meticulous craft—has always been more than duty. It is an expression of your heart, though you may not see it that way."

Snape turned back to his cauldron, the tension in his shoulders palpable. He added a pinch of powdered moonstone, watching the potion’s hue shift to a pale silver.

"You’ve carried this burden for so long," Dumbledore said. "And I know it weighs heavily on you. But even the most gifted Potions Master cannot live on duty alone. Have you considered that perhaps your heart might still have room for something more? Someone more?"

Snape’s hand hovered over the cauldron, his breath catching briefly before he exhaled slowly. "What I want, Albus, is irrelevant. I do what is necessary."

Dumbledore smiled faintly, though his eyes were filled with understanding. "Ah, Severus. The heart is never irrelevant. It is the essence of who we are. Even the most intricate potions require a touch of it to truly succeed."

Snape didn’t respond, his focus fixed on the potion as it simmered. But Dumbledore’s words lingered in the air, sinking into the quiet spaces between them.

As Dumbledore turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, looking back. "One day, Severus, I hope you’ll find that your work—your life—is not merely a tribute to the past but a foundation for the future. And when that day comes, I believe you’ll be ready for it."

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts and the steady, rhythmic bubbling of the cauldron.



Tara sank deeper into the plush couch of the Hufflepuff common room, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. The warm glow of the fire danced across her face, but the tea had gone cold, untouched. Her mind was a whirlwind, replaying the intensity of her earlier encounter. His gaze—sharp, guarded, and yet deeply vulnerable—had pierced through her, leaving her both unsettled and inexplicably drawn in.

The door creaked, and Tara glanced up to see Chiara entering, her arms full of scrolls and books. Behind her, Tonks bounded in, her bright turquoise hair catching the firelight as she grinned mischievously.

“Blimey, Tara, you look like you’ve just seen a dementor,” Tonks teased, tossing her books onto a nearby chair and flopping down beside Tara. “What’s got you all moony-eyed and silent?”

Chiara set her load on the table, her sharp gaze softening with concern. “You’ve been distant all evening. What’s going on?”

Tara hesitated, unsure how to put the strange mix of emotions into words. She finally sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Tonks smirked, nudging her playfully. “Complicated? That’s just Hufflepuff code for ‘I don’t want to talk about it, so I’ll pretend it’s too deep for words.’ Spill, Lionheart.”

Tara gave her a reluctant smile, then took a breath. “There’s someone I’ve been working with. We’ve been spending time together... studying. But today, something was... different.”

Chiara tilted her head. “Different how?”

Tara hesitated, then set her teacup down, her fingers twisting in her lap. “It’s like they let their guard down for a moment. Just long enough for me to see something real. I don’t think they meant to, but... I saw it. And it was powerful.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Ooh, a mystery study buddy! Did this ‘powerful’ moment make your heart do a little flip, then a somersault, and then flop onto the floor like a bad summoning spell?”

Tara’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe,” she admitted softly.

Chiara smiled knowingly, her tone more serious. “That’s a strong feeling. It can be scary, but also wonderful. Do you want to do something about it?”

Tara blinked, her eyes widening. “Do something? Like what?”

Tonks leaned forward, her turquoise locks bouncing. “You could always declare your undying love in front of the whole common room. Or,” she added with a wicked grin, “you could try something less likely to make us all choke on our tea.”

Chiara’s expression turned thoughtful. “What about a gift? Something small but meaningful. It’s a way to show you’re paying attention, without being too direct.”

Tonks clapped her hands together. “Brilliant idea! A gift says, ‘I notice you and I care,’ without screaming, ‘Let’s elope to a magical hideaway.’”

Tara laughed despite herself, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “A gift... that could work.”

Chiara nodded. “Just make it personal. Something that shows who you are and what you see in them. It doesn’t have to be grand—just thoughtful.”

Tonks tapped her chin, pretending to think deeply. “So, what’ll it be? A fancy quill? Chocolate frogs? Or maybe—” she gasped dramatically, “a self-writing love note that starts with, ‘Dear Mystery Study Buddy, your potion-making skills brew more than just draughts—they brew my heart!’”

Tara rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress her laughter. “It’s not like that! And they don’t even make potions!” she protested, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Hmm,” Chiara mused. “If it’s not potions, then what? Charms? Magical creatures?”

Tonks gasped again, grabbing Tara’s hand in mock horror. “Don’t tell me—it’s someone from Defense Against the Dark Arts! Is it Charlie Weasley? You too would have red haired babies…”

Tara swatted her hand away, her face burning. “You’re impossible. No, it absolutely isn’t Charlie Weasley. But if you keep prying I will jinx you.”

Chiara smiled warmly, leaning forward. “Ignore her, Tara. Just trust yourself. If the gift comes from your heart, it’ll mean something.”

Tonks threw an arm around Tara’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, don’t listen to me. I’m just here for the drama. But seriously, you’ve got this, Lionheart. Whoever this mystery study buddy is, they won’t know what hit them.”

Tara shook her head, her laughter lingering as her friends’ playful banter filled the room. For the first time since the encounter, she felt a glimmer of hope—and a plan.

“Thanks, you two,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve already got an idea.”

Chiara smiled. “We’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Tonks grinned mischievously. “Just don’t forget us when you’re whisked off to your enchanted tower or whatever happens next!”

As her friends’ laughter echoed around her, Tara felt the weight on her chest ease a little. The path forward wasn’t clear, but she wasn’t walking it alone—and that, she realized, was its own kind of magic. Now to act.

Chapter 13: The Gift

The laboratory was shrouded in quiet stillness, broken only by the soft bubbling of a cauldron and the rhythmic clink of glass vials. Severus Snape preferred it this way—a sanctuary of order and precision where his thoughts could retreat into the safety of logic and formulae. Tonight, however, his mind betrayed him.

No matter how meticulously he measured or stirred, his focus faltered, yielding to a distraction both unwelcome and undeniable. Tara Lionheart. The memory of her fiery hair, her boldness, and the way she had looked at him during their last encounter lingered like a potion’s aftertaste—impossible to ignore.

A soft knock at the door disrupted his reverie. His sharp gaze snapped toward the entrance as it creaked open, revealing her. Tara stepped inside, her red curls wild and untamed, her expression carrying a nervous determination that made his breath catch.

“Miss Lionheart,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. “It’s late. You should be in your dorm, not roaming the corridors flaunting your disregard for the rules.”

“I know,” she replied, stepping further into the room. Her hands cradled a small package wrapped in plain brown paper, held with a care that made it seem far more precious than its unassuming exterior. “But I couldn’t wait. I brought you something.”

She extended the package toward him, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Snape hesitated, his gaze flickering from her face to the gift and back again. Slowly, he reached out, their fingers brushing as he took it. The fleeting contact sent a jolt through him, though he concealed it behind a veneer of impassivity.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice neutral, though curiosity tugged at the edges of his restraint.

“A gift,” Tara said simply, her voice steady despite the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes.

Snape’s brow furrowed as he unwrapped the package with meticulous care. Inside were delicate, minty-green leaves that shimmered faintly under the flickering candlelight. Moonpetal. Rare. Precious. A plant with properties that could amplify potions to unparalleled potency.

“I picked it myself,” Tara explained, her voice gaining strength. “Under the light of the full moon, in the Forbidden Forest.”

For a moment, Snape was silent, the weight of her gesture settling heavily on him. He inhaled deeply, the heady scent of the herb filling the air. “This is remarkable,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

Tara’s shoulders relaxed, relief softening her features. “I thought you might appreciate it,” she said, her tone lighter now. “You’ve done so much for me, Professor. I wanted to show you that I saw it. That I respect you.”

Snape’s dark eyes met hers, and something flickered there—gratitude? Admiration? Whatever it was, it made her pulse quicken.

“You’ve shown resourcefulness,” he said at last, his tone measured. “And a degree of daring that most would shy away from. Some of that Lionheart spark?”

Tara smiled faintly, emboldened by his acknowledgment. “Perhaps, but it is also a gift of the mind. I thought it might help with your experiments. Specifically, I wondered if Moonpetal might amplify the Elixir of the Moonlit Veil should you ever decide to brew it again.”

“That is very thoughtful and a keen instinct.”

“Traits worth keeping close to you?” Tara’s voice was thick with unspoken meaning.

Snape’s expression sharpened, his gaze searching hers. “What are you trying to say, Miss Lionheart?”

“That you’re not as alone as you think,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tension humming between them.

The words struck something deep within him, an ache buried so long he had nearly forgotten its presence. His grip tightened on the Moonpetal, his knuckles whitening as he fought to maintain his composure.

“You presume much, Miss Lionheart” he said, his tone colder now, though her name carried an unintended warmth as he said it despite his efforts to shut her down.

“Maybe I do,” she admitted, stepping closer, her eyes unwavering. “But I think you’re worth knowing. Really knowing.”

Her boldness caught him off guard. For a moment, he allowed himself to truly see her—not as a student but as a woman with a mind and spirit as fierce as her hair, with wants that were not limited to the academic.

“Miss Lionheart,” he began, his voice rough, the tension in the room nearly unbearable. “This is a dangerous path.”

Tara’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I’ve never been afraid of a little danger,” she replied, her tone soft but teasing.

Snape’s mind raced as he studied her, the flicker of her intent clear. She was going to kiss him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the magnetic pull between them. A war raged within him—one part of him sorely tempted, the other recoiling at the impropriety, the consequences… the risk to his carefully walled in emotions.

Finally, propriety won. Snape took a deliberate step back, the movement breaking the spell but not the connection the exchange had built.

“This conversation ends tonight,” he said firmly, his tone lacking its usual bite. “You will go to bed, Miss Lionheart. And we will speak of this tomorrow evening when both our minds are clearer.”

Tara hesitated, disappointment flashing across her face before she nodded. “Tomorrow evening, then,” she agreed, her voice steady.

Snape watched her as she turned and left, the door closing softly behind her. The Moonpetal remained in his hands, its delicate fragrance lingering in the air like a whisper of her presence.

Tomorrow, he thought, the word reverberating in his mind. Tomorrow, everything would change.

Chapter 14: Halloween

Penny and Chiara were perched on the overstuffed sofa near the fire, their books spread haphazardly across the table that next morning. It was Wednesday and Halloween so they had the morning off to prepare for the evening’s festivities. Tara joined them with a cup of tea, trying to suppress the grin that tugged at her lips.

“You’re awfully chipper today,” Cassie teased, giving her a sideways glance. “What’s got you in such a mood? Did you find an answer to that ridiculous Transfiguration essay?”

Tara shook her head, unable to keep the blush from rising to her cheeks. “Well, yes I got the essay done but that isn’t it. I just… had a nice evening.”

Chiara’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “A nice evening, hmm? With someone?” She was of course aware of the secret study partner that was giving Tara feelings.

Tara shrugged, taking a slow sip of her tea. “Maybe.”

“Oh, do tell!” Penny leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve been so secretive lately. Who is he? Or she? Or they? Come on, we’re your best friends!”

Tara hesitated. There wasn’t much to share—not yet. But the glow she felt was impossible to hide entirely. “I… It’s just a crush. Nothing serious. I just think that the gift I gave opened up the option of something more. We’re supposed to talk about it tonight.”

Tonk sidled up to them, clearly having been listening. She rolled her eyes. “That is not the face of someone with ‘just a crush.’ That’s the face of someone who’s absolutely smitten. Details, Tara!”

Tara laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll tell you if it becomes something real. For now… let’s just say I have high hopes.”

Tonks groaned in overly dramatized frustration, but Penny smiled knowingly. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Just promise you’ll tell us eventually.”

“I promise,” Tara said, her heart skipping a beat. She could only hope it was something worth sharing soon. If not then the whole conversation would be moot anyway.

That evening, the Great Hall was transformed into a masterpiece of macabre festivity. Hundreds of floating jack-o'-lanterns illuminated the space, their carved faces flickering with enchanted candlelight. Bats swooped and flitted overhead, their wings silent as shadows, while ghostly figures meandered through the tables, occasionally letting out soft, mournful wails. Plates brimmed with decadent seasonal dishes: pumpkin pasties, roasted squash, spiced cider, and treacle tarts glimmered among enchanted platters that refill themselves endlessly.

Tara sat with her friends at the Hufflepuff table, her laughter mingling with the buzz of cheerful conversation around her. Yet, as vibrant as the hall was, her attention repeatedly strayed upward to the head table.

Severus Snape sat in his usual place, his dark robes a sharp contrast to the lively decorations around him. His expression was unreadable, his piercing gaze flicking across the students with an air of detached observation. Despite the revelry surrounding him, he looked as though he were a solitary figure carved from shadow.

Tara tried not to make it obvious, but her eyes found him again and again. The first time, he seemed oblivious to her attention, his focus on the goblet in his hand. The second, she thought his gaze might have lingered near her, though she wasn’t certain. The third time, however, their eyes met.

Snape’s dark gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, the noise of the Great Hall seemed to fade into a muted hum. He gave her the barest of nods, then rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. His black robes billowed behind him as he turned and strode toward the side exit.

Tara’s pulse quickened. She lingered at the table for a few minutes more, finishing her spiced cider while pretending to be engrossed in Chiara’s animated retelling of a particularly humorous Defense Against the Dark Arts class. When she finally excused herself, her departure went largely unnoticed amid the feast’s merriment.

The corridors outside the Great Hall were quieter, the lively sounds of the feast dimmed to a distant echo. Tara’s footsteps quickened as she descended to the basements, her destination clear. She reached the landing above the restricted potions laboratory, her breath hitching when she saw him.

Severus Snape stood in the shadows, his posture rigid and commanding. The flickering torchlight danced over his sharp features, highlighting the intensity of his gaze.

“Miss Lionheart,” he greeted her, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate in the stillness. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

“I thought it prudent to avoid suspicion,” Tara replied, her voice steady despite the nerves swirling within her.

Snape’s lips quirked slightly—an expression too subtle to be called a smile, but it was something. Without a word, he turned and began to walk, his pace measured. Tara followed him down a side corridor she had never ventured into before.

He stopped in front of an unassuming wooden door and pushed it open, revealing a forgotten parlor. The room was dimly lit, with an air of quiet elegance that suggested it had once been a place of comfort. Shelves lined the walls, and a worn but ornate, armless settee sat near a low table. A single enchanted lamp cast a soft, golden glow, its light dancing faintly over the dark wood paneling while an iron stove filled the room with warmth.

“This room will serve us better than the laboratory,” Snape said, his tone neutral but firm. “Privacy without the reminder of work.”

Tara stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Her heart pounded as she turned to face him, the weight of the evening pressing down on her. Whatever was about to happen, she knew it would be a turning point.

Snape gestured for her to sit, taking the chair opposite her as she settled onto the settee. For a moment, the silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken words and the hum of possibility.

Tara shifted slightly on the settee, her nerves palpable beneath the calm exterior she was desperately trying to maintain. The silence was heavy, almost suffocating, the kind of silence that filled the spaces between thoughts, thick with unsaid words. She glanced at Snape, whose dark eyes were fixed on her, though his expression remained unreadable, distant—like a man waiting for something to break.

Her heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud in her ears as she exhaled, fighting the knot in her stomach. "Professor," she started, her voice quieter than she intended. "We’ve... We’ve both been dancing around this, haven’t we?"

Snape’s eyes flickered for a moment, just a brief shift, and he leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his knees. He said nothing for a long stretch of time, and Tara’s gaze never wavered from his face, searching for a hint of his thoughts.

"You don’t mince words, Miss Lionheart," he replied, his voice low and deliberate, as if weighing each syllable. "A sharp tongue as usual."

Tara swallowed the quick surge of nervous laughter that threatened to break the tension. "I’m serious," she continued, a slight edge to her tone. "I think we both know what’s been happening, even if we haven’t said it aloud. There’s something between us."

Snape’s dark gaze intensified, but he remained silent for a moment, as though testing the weight of her words. Tara’s heart raced. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this distance between them, how much longer she could pretend that this wasn’t more than just a mutual understanding.

Finally, Snape spoke, his voice soft, almost thoughtful, though the edge of caution remained.

"Is it a feeling of 'something,' Miss Lionheart, or something more?"

The way he said it, that choice of words, hung in the air between them. It wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t completely open either. The question was his way of giving her the space to define the direction this conversation could take—or not take.

Tara inhaled sharply, her hands gripping the edge of the settee as her nerves collided with the sudden vulnerability of the moment. "It’s more," she said softly, almost like a confession. "And I think you feel it too."

The words, spoken aloud, shifted something in the room. Something deep within Snape stirred, but his features remained impassive—impossible to read. There was a tightness in his jaw, a flicker in his eyes that hinted at something else beneath the surface, something he was reluctant to acknowledge.

Tara leaned forward slightly, her voice steady as she continued, "I don’t want to walk away from this, whatever it is. I think we’ve both held back for long enough." She fixed her eyes on his and held herself open and vulnerable. The move was his to make and she prayed that he’d make it.



Severus reached out to touch Tara’s face. The air between them was charged with an intensity neither could deny. Snape’s dark eyes searched Tara’s face. The space between them seemed to shrink with each passing heartbeat, until it felt as if the very walls of the little parlor were closing in around them.

Tara’s breath was shallow, her pulse racing beneath his fingertips. The quiet of the room was deafening. The only sound was the faint crackling of the fire in the corner. He could feel the weight of her stare, searching and vulnerable, as if she were opening her very soul to him.

“Miss Lionheart,” Snape’s voice broke the silence, low and rough. “You are a bold one, aren’t you?”

Tara’s lips curled into a faint, wry smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Her voice was steady, though her body betrayed her. She was trembling in his touch, the yearning that coursed through her like wildfire.

A flicker of something dark and dangerous passed through Snape, and for a moment, he was still and silent, as he weighed the consequences of what he was about to do. The tension between them stretched taut, the air thick with anticipation.

Then, making a decision, Snape moved. His hand, cold and steady, slid down to cup her chin and pull her closer. His touch was possessive, yet gentle, unsure of how far he could push. Tara didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned in closer, her own hand reaching up to rest against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under her palm.

And then, he kissed her.



It was unlike any kiss she had ever experienced. It wasn’t soft or sweet, but it was deep—intense, consuming. Snape’s lips were firm against hers, a silent demand that left no room for hesitation. Tara responded immediately, her body opening to him like a flower in bloom. The world outside the confines of the parlor seemed to disappear, leaving only the heat of their bodies, the clash of their lips, the rush of blood in her veins.

She had expected something sharp, something dark, but what she hadn’t anticipated was the tenderness that lurked beneath his urgency. He was holding back, just barely, as though trying to control something wild inside of him. His mouth moved against hers with a feverish intensity. Tara met him with equal passion though she longed to be closer.

Clearly he did too as he moved to sit beside her on the settee. Her body molded against his as though they were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their fit as they kissed again.

Her heart raced as her senses flooded with the taste of him—spicy, warm, with the faintest trace of something bitter and intoxicating. His hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer still, until she could feel the hard line of his body pressed against hers, the undeniable evidence of his desire.

When the second kiss finally broke, it was with a mutual reluctance, both of them gasping for air, faces flushed and bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment. Tara’s lips tingled with the aftershocks of the kiss, her mind spinning as she tried to catch her breath.

Snape’s eyes were dark, his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling as if he were struggling to regain control. He stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something that bordered on wonder.

The silence in the room was thick, each second dragging on as if the air itself had frozen. Tara felt the intensity of the moment settle deep into her bones, and she was certain that neither of them could ever be the same after this. His eyes, dark and deep like an endless well, locked onto hers, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of uncertainty behind them—something that mirrored the storm raging inside her own chest.

Snape’s hand, still resting on her chin, gently tilted her head, forcing her to look at him. His breath was ragged, each inhalation betraying the tension that ran through his body. Tara's pulse thrummed in her ears, the world outside them fading entirely, leaving nothing but the heat that swirled between them, crackling in the air.

“Do you understand what this means… Tara?” Snape’s voice was low, gravelly—his words weighted with the gravity of the situation but her first name on his lips was heaven.

Tara didn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t. Her body was still shaking from the force of the kiss, her thoughts a whirlwind of desire and fear. She swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her hand sliding up to his chest again. “But I know that I can’t walk away from it. Not now.”

The intensity in his gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt as though he was looking straight through her, trying to read every thought she hadn’t spoken aloud. Tara could feel the pull between them, like a magnetic force that neither of them could fight. She rose slightly and leaned forward, closing the small gap that remained between them, her lips grazing his in a teasing, hesitant kiss. She could feel the roughness of his stubble against her skin, the sharp edge of his desire as it pressed against her.

Snape responded immediately, his hands sliding to her back, pulling her closer, nearly on his lap. His body was stiff with restraint yet undeniably hungry. The kiss deepened, the moment stretching, unraveling, until it felt like the world could collapse around them, and neither of them would notice. Tara’s hands roamed, unsteady yet eager, tracing the hard lines of his jaw, the flex of muscle beneath his robes. Her body burned for him, every nerve alive with the touch of his skin.

When they broke apart again, gasping for breath, Tara’s hands lingered on his chest, her fingers twitching as if they could somehow burn into him. Snape’s face was flushed, his breathing uneven, but his eyes were focused, intense, as if he were waiting for her to make the next move.

“I told you,” she murmured, her voice shaky but steady. “I’m not running from this. Whatever happens next, I want it. I want you.”

The words hung between them, hanging on the precipice of something inevitable. Snape’s lips parted slightly, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dangerous, something that suggested he was finally losing control of the restraint he had held so tightly in check. His hand moved to her waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of her robes, as though he were trying to anchor himself to the moment.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained desire.

Tara’s breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t pull back. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she spoke again, her voice lower this time. “Maybe I don’t. But I want it. All of it.”

And with that, Snape finally lost the last thread of control he had been holding onto. His lips fell on her again, fiercer, more urgent this time. His hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer, until the distance between them had vanished completely. Tara could feel the hard press of his body against hers, the unmistakable signs of his desire, and it made her own pulse spike, her thoughts spiraling into a haze of hunger and anticipation.

Every kiss was a question, every touch a plea for more, for something deeper, something that neither of them could articulate with words. The moment was raw, electric, and in that parlor, under the soft, flickering light, they were both consumed by the power of what they had unleashed.

Snape’s hands, though still gentle, sought places they would never before have dared to go. They found skin beneath clothing and caressed it. Tara’s legs parted as she settled against him, her clothed core against his.

The caresses and continued kisses became more frantic and before long they were tugged at one another’s robes, desperate to feel more of one another, to close the remaining distance between their bodies. The power between them was undeniable, like a storm that had finally broken free. Neither of them could stop it now, not that either of them desired it.

The long-held restraint finally shattered as they were stacked bare on the settee in the forgotten parlor. Tara’s breath hitched, her senses overwhelmed as her body responded to him with a desperate need she hadn’t known she was capable of. She wanted to feel him completely, to understand the depth of the power between them, to embrace the unknown that now seemed inevitable.

When they paused to prepare, the space between them felt impossibly small, the heat of their bodies sang with the sweet promise of rapture, and the silence that now filled the room was drowned out by the racing of their hearts. Tara’s voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, but there was no mistaking the certainty in her words.

“This is just the beginning, Severus.” She crossed the final boundary between them of her own volition and they made the night their own.

Chapter 15: The Arrangement

It was two am and they lay tangled in blankets spread on the carpeted floor of the parlor. The evening had flowed from one desirous encounter to another so much so that she wasn’t quite sure how they’d gone from the settee to the floor, from bare to blankets. But none of that really mattered. Severus Snape was holding her close to his body, her head on his chest and she was happy.

Tara rested her head against the pillow, her mind still reeling from everything that had transpired. The warmth of Snape’s body pressed against hers was comforting, but the lingering tension in the air spoke volumes. She could feel his presence, his unease, even in the stillness of the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Snape shifted slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “How do you intend for us to move forward from here, Tara?”

His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made her heart skip a beat. There was no anger or harshness, only a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. Severus Snape, the ever-composed, secretive man, was asking for direction, asking for her to guide them both through the chaos they’d just created.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted softly, lifting her head to face him, her hair spilling around her shoulders. “I didn’t expect to be here.”

He didn’t look at her immediately, his gaze fixed on the dimly lit ceiling. “Nor did I. But here we are,” he said with an almost bitter edge. “And now…” He trailed off, clearly at a loss for how to articulate the question hanging in the air.

Tara swallowed, taking a deep breath. She had thought this through already—countless times, in fact. Now it was time to put it into words. Words that would shape their future, for better or worse.

“We’ll keep it a secret,” she began, her voice steady. “For now. I’ve already kept our potions research hidden, and I can continue to do so even though the nature of our time together has changed. No one will know about us—not until we decide otherwise.”

He looked at her then, his expression unreadable. “And what do you expect from this? From me?”

Tara’s fingers traced the line of his sternum, slightly sunken as if every part of him is as minutely crooked as his nose. The tension in her chest eased a fraction as she continued. “Each day, we’ll decide what kind of day it will be. If we need to focus on research, we focus. If we want to be together—like this—then we take the time for that too. There’s no expectation. No pressure. I’m an expert potionier and can ensure there are no… consequences to this.”

She paused, studying him closely to gauge his reaction, but his face remained impassive.

“Outside of these rooms, we go back to being teacher and student. Nothing changes. No one will know. It will stay contained in the base of this tower where our two safe spaces exist. These rooms will be our secret space, the place where we can see if this… connection we’ve found can actually last.” She hesitated before continuing. “If it doesn’t seem like it will by the time I graduate, I’ll leave. I’ll go. And you can rebuild your walls and your life as you’ve known it. But if it does work, Severus—if it does—then we’ll come out of hiding at the end of the term.”

The quiet that followed her words was almost suffocating, but Tara didn’t flinch. She was resolute. This was the only way forward. The only way that made sense, for both of them.

Snape remained silent, but his eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion—something deep, something private. His fingers tightened around her wrist gently, as if he was considering her proposal, weighing the consequences of her words.

“You would just leave, then?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t believe it was possible. “If this doesn’t work? You would truly walk away and let me go back to… this life?”

Tara nodded, her eyes soft. “Yes. I would. It’s the only way to protect both of us from the mess that could come if we hold on too tightly when it’s not meant to be.”

Snape’s jaw tightened, the tension returning to his frame. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, his lips forming a thin line.

“I don’t know what this is, Tara,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “But I know I can’t let you go. I don’t open up easily and yet you made space for yourself in my closed off heart.” He sat up.

“I decline your agreement. The secrecy… is required. But I don’t want either of us hedging our bets in any way… No talk of leaving, no going back, and none of the potions you mentioned. We take all the risk or no more of it.”

He exhaled slowly, as though releasing some of the tension that had gripped him. His fingers brushed against her hair. For a moment, there was something soft—something vulnerable in his touch—that made her chest tighten.

“I never thought it would come to this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But I think maybe… maybe this is where we begin and never end.”

Tara smiled, relief flooding her chest. “I like the sound of that even better.”

The silence returned, but this time it was different. It wasn’t suffocating, nor uncomfortable. It was a quiet understanding between them—a promise to take it one step at a time. Together.

Chapter 16: A New RoutineThe days passed in a steady, almost monotonous rhythm, each one blending into the next with little to distinguish them. By daylight, Severus Snape remained the ever-distant, calculating professor, and Tara was nothing more than a keen student, absorbed in her studies. Their interactions were brief, confined to class discussions or the occasional exchange of glances when their paths crossed in the halls of Hogwarts. To anyone observing, they were simply a teacher and his pupil—nothing more.

But in the hours after the castle’s corridors emptied of students, the dynamic shifted. The unspoken agreement between them—one that had begun with the Turquoise of Transformation (T.o.T.)—evolved. The restricted potions laboratory and the parlor above it became their personal, private sanctuaries. Severus had even extended the same magical protections that required the special key to gain access so that the parlor truly was a private space just for them.

More often than not, they were called to research, driven by their interest in understanding just how complex this one potion—the Turquoise of Transformation—really was. Their sessions were punctuated by quiet exchanges, standing close, the occasional brush of fingers, or a fleeting kiss when they weren’t focused on adding volatile ingredients to a brewing cauldron. In these moments, their physical proximity felt like a natural extension of their growing intellectual connection.

The flickering firelight illuminated their faces as they worked, exchanging thoughts about their research, the complexity of the T.o.T., and the potential for this potion to revolutionize the entire discipline of Potions. It wasn’t just the magic that intrigued them; it was the shared discovery—the way their minds intertwined in pursuit of something greater.

There were also days when the weight of research became too heavy, when the endless hours of study left them longing for more than just intellectual fulfillment. On those evenings, their conversations veered into more personal territory, and what may have begun as an academic discussion would give way to more intimate exchanges. Those moments were as delicious as the expansion of their minds, the slow unfolding of their bond in ways neither had anticipated.

One evening, the crackle of the fire was the only sound as Tara curled up on the settee, a thick tome open in front of her. Snape was at the table, his attention focused on the scrolls before him. Tara couldn’t help but notice the sharp line of his profile, the way the firelight cast shadows across his features, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Snape glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What is?”

“The T.o.T.,” she said softly. “The potion is... fascinating. We’ve spent countless hours on it, and it still feels like we’re just scratching the surface.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “The most challenging potions always require the most time and effort. But you’re caught up with my own decades-long exploration, Tara. The T.o.T. is something we could dedicate our entire lives to.” A silence stretched between them after that, heavy with unspoken words.

Eventually, it was Tara who broke the silence. “Severus, I—” She hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase the thought that had been gnawing at her all evening. “Do you ever think about what all of this means? I mean, the potion, the magic we’re doing... What does it mean if we succeed? What does it mean for us?”

Snape turned his chair slightly, his gaze fixed on her. “It is really whatever we want it to be. We could leave Hogwarts and devote ourselves to studying this alone. We could keep it as our own private power. It could define everything or nothing. What it means, on a broader scale, is the kind of question that only those who have lived too little ask, Tara.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “that nothing is set in stone. It is all what we make of it. So... what do you want to make of it?”

Tara was silent for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over her. She had never thought of her future that way before. The idea of doing this research had always seemed like it was a means to an end—a path to knowledge, a way to impress one of the greatest potion masters of the age. But Snape had shown her that the potion and their work together could be something more. It wasn’t just about the science; it was about the connection it was fostering between them.

She set the book down and pushed it aside, turning her body fully toward him. Her hand moved slowly across the table, coming to rest atop his. It was a simple gesture, but it felt charged with meaning. “I want it to be something that continues to draw us together, Severus.”

She didn’t remove her hand; instead, she let it linger there, offering the warmth of her touch as a silent promise. Her heart raced, but she refused to pull away, knowing that this moment—this connection—was something fragile, something worth nurturing.

Severus looked down at her hand. Then, with a quiet sigh, he let his hand cover hers, the gesture full of quiet acknowledgment. Neither of them spoke for a long time. The fire crackled, but the world outside their shared space felt distant, unimportant. In that moment, it was just the two of them, bound by more than their research but the continuation of where they’d started. They were all in on this: together.



Another evening, the fire in the hearth cast its usual glow as they settled into their work. Tara noticed Snape’s mind seemed busy as he was quieter than usual. Finally, after an hour of quiet concentration, Snape broke the silence. “Your family—”

Tara stiffened, immediately sensing the change in tone. “What about them?”

“I understand they are pure-blood,” he said, his voice carefully neutral, but the words hung in the air, thick with the weight of the question.

She closed the book she had been reading, meeting his gaze directly. “Yes, the Lionhearts are notoriously pure-blooded, one of the few non-Slytherin families to care about such things. IT was part of what drove my side of the family to leave for America. We have maintained that purity but not out of an adherence to the old way but due to the risk of marrying beyond the magical community over there.” Her voice was firm. “My father’s grandparents enshrined in their descendants that magic is a gift, not a birthright. They raised us to judge people by their actions, not their blood.”

Snape regarded her carefully, his expression unreadable, but his eyes darkened with something she couldn’t quite place. “Not unlike the Weasleys, then.”

Tara nodded, her resolve firm. “Not unlike them. They are our relations, you know. The same red haired genetics flow through both of our families tracing back to the Joten.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting to the fire. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before he spoke again, his voice lower than before. “I once believed otherwise. I aligned myself with those who believed that blood determined everything and that was something worth dividing the world over.”

Tara felt the weight of his admission like a stone dropped into the calm waters of their conversation. Without thinking, she reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on his. “You’re not that man anymore.”

His gaze flickered to her hand, and something passed over his face—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly masked. “You don’t know what that man was capable of.”

Tara leaned forward, her voice steady. “Then show me. Let me understand. We already know how.” She was of course mentioning the effect of combining the Turquoise of Transformation with the Forgetfulness Potion. “You can think of it as further study or as sharing your heart with the woman who cares about you more deeply than I have words for but either path has the same end.”

Severus searched her face for minutes on end, reading every twitch, sensing her thoughts with his legilimency. Finally he agreed. “I’ll get it prepared. Spend tomorrow with your peers and the day after we will dive into my memories.”

Chapter 17: Shadows of the Past

The air in the restricted potions laboratory was thick with anticipation. Severus stood at the center of the room, his dark robes blending into the dim light. His hands were steady as he measured the T.o.T. into the Forgetfulness potion. Tara hovered nearby, her gaze fixed on his precise movements. The flickering torchlight caught the edges of her brilliant hair, making it shimmer like it was ablaze.

When he was finished, Severus set everything down. They stood before the silvery indigo liquid glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Are you certain about this?” Severus asked, his voice low and calm, though his dark eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Tara stepped closer, her resolve firm. “I trust you, Severus. And I trust us.”

He nodded curtly and held out his hand. She slipped hers into his without hesitation, her fingers curling around his in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

This time, it was Severus who leaned forward, inhaling the fumes of the glowing potion first. Tara followed his lead.

As before, the world seemed to dissolve, their surroundings melting away in a swirl of silvery indigo light. Tara’s breath caught as she felt the pull of Severus’s memories, the tidal wave of emotion and sensation washing over her.



The first memory was achingly beautiful. Tara found herself standing on a sunlit hill, watching a young Severus, no more than nine or ten, sitting beside a girl with vibrant red hair. Lily Evans. Her laughter rang out like a bell as she showed him how to make a flower bloom with a touch of magic.

Tara felt Severus’s emotions as though they were her own—his awe at Lily’s brilliance, his yearning for her companionship, and the fragile hope she brought to his bleak, joyless world.

But even in the warmth of this memory, there was an undercurrent of sorrow, a premonition of what was to come.

The scene shifted abruptly. Tara now stood in a dimly lit room filled with shadowy figures, their faces obscured by hoods. At the center of the group was a younger Severus, his expression a mix of determination and trepidation.

As the Dark Lord pressed his wand to Severus’s forearm, the searing pain of the Dark Mark flared through Tara’s consciousness. She felt his conflicting emotions: the thrill of power, the allure of forbidden knowledge, and the desperate hope that this path might make him worthy of Lily’s notice even after she’d sworn him off, after she’d started up with James Potter.

But beneath it all was a growing darkness—a hunger for mastery over the arcane and a willingness to embrace cruelty to achieve it.



The next memory hit like a physical blow. Severus stood in a darkened street, watching from the shadows as a mutual acquaintance showed off a picture of Lily cradling a baby with dark, untidy hair. He/they were hidden, not the person being shown the image but they saw it all the same. The bitterness of his regret was palpable, a wound that refused to heal.

Tara felt his agony as he replayed the words that had driven her away—“Mudblood”—and the choices that had sealed his fate. His love for Lily burned fiercely, but it was tainted now, wrapped in the chains of his guilt and the irreversible consequences of his actions.



The swirl of silvery indigo deepened, and Tara found herself in a room filled with ancient tomes and cursed artifacts. Severus, now an adult, stood at the center, his black eyes gleaming as he traced a hand over the spine of a dark, leather-bound book.

The memory pulsed with the seductive lure of the Dark Arts. Tara felt his hunger for their power, his fascination with the forbidden, and the part of him that still longed to surrender to that side of himself.

But she also sensed his resistance—the iron will that kept him tethered to the path he had chosen, no matter how much it pained him.



Finally, the silvery indigo light faded, and Tara gasped as the laboratory snapped back into focus. She staggered slightly, her knees weak, but Severus’s hand remained steady in hers, grounding her.

His face was pale, his dark eyes haunted. “Now you see,” he said quietly. “Now you understand.”

Tara stepped closer, her free hand resting gently on his cheek. “I do,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And you’re still here, Severus. You’ve fought so hard to be more than your past. To be more than the man you were.”

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. “It is not an easy fight.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice fierce. “But it’s one worth fighting. And you’re not alone in it anymore.”

Their hands remained clasped, the connection between them stronger than ever as they stood together in the flickering torchlight, bound by the memories they now shared and the unspoken promise to face whatever came next—together.

Chapter 18: A Winter's Sanctuary

The Great Hall was quieter than usual, the long tables sparsely populated as the Christmas break began. Tara’s friends clustered around her at breakfast, their chatter light but tinged with curiosity.

“You’re really staying the whole break?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tara nodded, forcing a small laugh. “Just until my parents get back. They’re visiting my aunt down south, and there’s no point going home to an empty house. Besides, I have my Apparition license now—it’s only a short trip from Hogsmeade when they’re back.”

It was a believable explanation. Her family lived in northern Scotland, not far enough away to arouse suspicion but just distant enough to make her story plausible. Her friends nodded, satisfied, and the conversation moved to holiday plans.

By the time the train carrying the remaining students to their families pulled away, the castle felt like another world. Its usual hum of life was replaced by a tranquil stillness, the air thick with the scent of pine and lingering warmth of enchanted fires. Tara made her way back to the dungeons, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling in her chest.

Severus was waiting in the parlor when she arrived, the low fire casting flickering shadows across the walls. His expression softened when he saw her, the tension that usually defined his features easing slightly.

“Well,” he said, his tone sardonic, “it seems we’ve both survived the first hurdle of secrecy.”

Tara smiled, slipping off her cloak. “It’s almost too easy when everyone’s gone.”

He offered her a seat near the fire, pouring tea with his usual precision. As they settled in, the initial awkwardness of their newfound freedom gave way to something quieter, more natural.

They had spoken of experimentation, of using the break to continue to explore the Turquoise of Transformation or any number of the other potions in that ancient tome yet, as the days passed, it became clear that the lack of scrutiny allowed them something even more precious: the ability to simply be.

Afternoons were spent in any number of empty rooms or out walking the grounds beyond the quidditch pitch where there were no lines of sight from the castle. In the evenings, they ventured inside. Severus led her through hidden corridors and forgotten rooms, his voice a quiet guide as he shared pieces of Hogwarts’ history unknown to most. In the kitchens, she persuaded the house-elves into parting with rare delicacies, most evenings, taking trays of food back to their parlor. Their combined laughter, hers free-flowing and his still restrained from years of refusing to even make such a sound, echoed down the empty halls, filling them with some of the life they were missing when absent the student body.

It was a side of him she hadn’t fully seen before—unburdened by his usual sharpness, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment, if only fleetingly.



As the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, the castle was silent, the few remaining students and staff tucked away in their quarters.

In their parlor, the fire burned low, its warmth cocooning them against the chill of the dungeon. Tara had brought a bottle of wine from the kitchens, its rich red shimmering in the firelight. Severus, with a surprising flourish, produced two delicate goblets to enjoy it with.

“To what shall we toast?” she asked, pouring the wine.

“To survival,” he said dryly, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

“To more than survival,” she countered, raising her glass. “To thriving.” He raised his own glass in agreement to that.

Their glasses clinked, the soft chime filling the room.

As the final seconds of 1990 slipped away, Tara leaned against Severus, her head resting on his shoulder. When the clock began to chime, she tilted her face up to his.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered.

He hesitated a moment before lowering his head. Their kiss was instant lightning, a meeting of desire and hope. As the firelight danced around them, it deepened, the barriers between them crumbling in the quiet of the new year.

Her fingers found their way to his collar, tugging him closer, and his response was instinctive. His hand threaded through her hair and drew them closer. The kiss carried a raw intensity, a culmination of weeks spent in blissful enjoyment of one another’s company.

When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.

“Happy New Year indeed,” she murmured, her smile soft.

Severus exhaled a sound that might have been the clearest laugh yet and pulled her into another kiss. As the fire burned lower, the world beyond their sanctuary slipped away, leaving only the shadows and the fire… and a pile of newly arrived blankets and pillows showing that their time together wasn’t a secret from one population of Hogwarts residents and they saw it as their duty to support and provide for it.



The days following New Year’s felt like a dream. They fell into a rhythm that felt startlingly natural: mornings spent in companionable quiet, afternoons exploring, and evenings by the fire, their conversation flowing easily.

Severus seemed less guarded, though his sharp wit remained intact. Tara found herself drawn to his dry humor, the way his mind worked, and the glimpses of vulnerability he allowed her to see.

For the first time, they were able to simply be two people, finding solace in each other’s company and as the break drew to a close, Tara couldn’t help but wonder how they would navigate the return to reality, how they would tolerate another half year of sneaking.

Chapter 19: Whispers in the Shadows

As the holiday break ended, the castle’s quiet stillness gave way to the familiar hum of returning students. Tara found herself both grateful for the return of her peers and nostalgic for the unbroken time she and Snape had shared. Now, their moments together were carefully constructed illusions, hidden amidst the bustling rhythms of Hogwarts life.

Tara’s days became a balancing act. She resumed her place among her classmates with ease, her natural warmth and sharp intellect making her a favorite among both students and professors. In Potions, she excelled with an effortless precision that earned her quiet praise from Snape, though he took care to avoid any special attention that might draw suspicion.

Evenings found her in the Great Hall, laughing with friends and trading stories about the holiday break. One such evening, nestled near the roaring fireplace that was by the Gryffindor table, her friends began to speculate.

“Snape’s been… different,” said Tulip Karasu, a Ravenclaw who had joined the group of students lounging around. “I swear, he hasn’t taken points from anyone all week. He even ignored Victor’s exploding cauldron in Potions!”

“Maybe he’s finally cracked,” Charlie Weasley chimed in, his mischievous grin widening. “All that sneering and brooding can’t be good for a person’s health.”

Tara chuckled, keeping her expression light. “Maybe he’s just tired. Even professors need a break.”

“Or he’s testing some experimental calming draught,” Cassie added, and the group erupted into laughter.

Tara joined in, but a flicker of unease lingered. The subtle changes in Snape’s demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she worried if it would bring further scrutiny. Still, she listened intently, her mind cataloging their observations to share with her lover later.

In the dim light of the restricted potions lab, Tara recounted the rumors to Snape, her voice tinged with nervous laughter.

“Calming draught,” he muttered darkly. “The nerve.”

Tara grinned. “Would you prefer they thought you’d been Imperiused? Some of them do.”

His scowl deepened. “Years of meticulous effort cultivating a certain… persona, undone by a few weeks of restraint.”

“You didn’t cultivate it,” she said gently. “You reacted to the hand life dealt you. To trauma, to betrayal, to—” She stopped herself, watching his expression seeing he understood her point. “But now, you’re addressing those things. Healing from them. That means you’re creating who you want to be.”

He snorted, though the sound lacked its usual venom. “And who do you suppose I want to be?”

Tara leaned forward, her gaze steady. “Someone ambitious, cunning, and resourceful. A Slytherin through and through. But you don’t have to be mean, dark, and brooding just because you’re in Slytherin. Those aren’t your house’s traits. They’re the masks you wore to survive.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he regarded her with an expression that was equal parts wary and contemplative.

“You make it sound so simple,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before.

“It’s not,” Tara admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. And you’re not alone in it.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on the fire. The flames danced in his dark eyes, their light softening the sharp lines of his face. When he finally spoke, his tone was laced with reluctant acceptance. “We’ll see. Somehow I think you will ensure that the world sees another side of me because that’s who you see and you, Tara Lionheart, are capable of changing everything you apply yourself to.”

She beamed and laid her head against his shoulder while he flipped through the basic potions textbook.

“On that note, what do you say to exploring what the Turquoise of Transformation and a Calming Draught do when combined?”

“Sounds like fun.”



Tara’s time with Snape was balanced by her immersion in student life. She threw herself into her studies, excelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology as much as in Potions. Her professors praised her sharp questions and creative problem-solving, and her friends often sought her out for help with assignments.

In the library one afternoon, she sat with Tulip, deciphering a particularly difficult spell. The familiar rustle of parchment and the quiet hum of whispered conversations surrounded them, grounding Tara in the normalcy of student life.

“You’re amazing at this,” Tulip said, grinning as Tara explained the spell with ease. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s just practice,” Tara replied, though her heart warmed at the praise. She glanced around the library, catching glimpses of her classmates bent over their books and parchments. Hogwarts wasn’t just a school; it was her home, filled with people who saw her as brilliant and kind, with none of the shadows that lingered in her private life. “I do enjoy guiding people with my knowledge though.”

“And why weren’t you sorted Ravenclaw?”

Tara smirked, having grown used to such questions and finding she actually now had the answer, “Because I decided when I crossed the Atlantic that being loyal and true to myself was going to be my guiding principle. I could be smart anywhere: I would only have this short year at Hogwarts to shape the remainder of being a child.”

“Weren’t you one of the first of us to turn seventeen?”

“Shut-up. You know what I mean.” They returned to their course work, yet even in these moments, her mind wandered to Severus. From the way his eyes softened when he let his guard down, to the quiet intensity of their conversations. She carried these thoughts with her, a secret warmth that contrasted the winter chill and the weight of her studies.



The days ticked by, each one drawing Tara and Severus closer to February and the whispered excitement of Valentine’s Day. For now, their relationship remained their own—a flicker of fire in the shadows, waiting to burn brighter should it ever be allowed. And oh, how Tara found herself wishing it could be allowed.

Valentine's Day arrived with a flurry of pink and red decorations in the Great Hall. Charmed cherubs fluttered beneath the enchanted ceiling, scattering rose petals over the tables, while heart-shaped confetti drifted lazily through the air. Tara sat among her housemates, forcing a smile as she picked at her breakfast. She had prepared small gifts for her friends—chocolate frogs for Penny, a bouquet of enchanted daisies for Chiara, and a comically oversized box of fizzing whizbees for Tonks—but the brief exchange didn’t fill the void left by the one gift she couldn’t give.

Her heart ached with a longing she couldn’t quite name. There was so much she had to keep secret—her evenings in the restricted lab, the burgeoning bond she shared with Severus, and the way her heart beat faster whenever he entered the room. Watching her peers freely exchanging sweets and tokens of affection made her yearn for a similar openness with him, the chance to claim and be claimed in the eyes of the world.

By evening, the castle hummed with the cheerful chaos of Valentine’s celebrations. Groups of students clustered together in hallways, laughing and sharing stories, while enchanted music drifted faintly from the Great Hall. Tara made her way back to the Hufflepuff common room alone, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. She had spent the day telling herself it didn’t matter, that their bond was too important to jeopardize with public displays, but her chest still felt heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes.

It wasn’t until she entered her dormitory and found a folded parchment on her pillow that her spirits lifted. The sight of the familiar sharp, slanted handwriting made her heart skip a beat. Snatching up the note, she settled onto her bed and unfolded it with care, her fingers trembling slightly.



Tara,

Though this day is filled with trivial gestures and shallow declarations, I find myself compelled to offer you something of more significance. You deserve more than chocolate frogs and roses, things that will fade by tomorrow.

I propose instead a delayed celebration—one worthy of your talents and your courage. On the night of the full moon, we will revisit the Elixir of the Moonlit Veil. I have refined the brew using the Moonpetal you gifted me, its potency enhanced to reflect the alignment of our efforts and the celestial tide.

The results, I believe, will be… illuminating.

Meet me in the laboratory on the twentieth, just before moonrise. Wear your courage as you always do, and bring your unyielding spirit. Together, we shall discover what lies beyond the boundaries of what we know.



Tara read the note twice, her lips curving into a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. A rush of excitement coursed through her veins, dispelling the melancholy of the day. She tucked the note carefully into her pocket and leaned back against the headboard, her thoughts racing.

It wasn’t the public proclamation of love she had dreamed of, but it was so much more than that. It was private, personal—a gesture that spoke to the very heart of who they were. The ache in her chest transformed into a flutter of anticipation. Valentine’s Day was merely a prelude; the real celebration awaited her under the light of the full moon.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she closed her eyes, her mind already drifting to the night they would share and the magic they would create together.

Chapter 20: Under the Moon’s Embrace

The air in the castle had turned sharp, the cold of February pressing against the windows as Tara entered the Potions lab that evening. The full moon hung in the sky, casting a pale light across the grounds of Hogwarts. Tonight, something felt different—something charged. Tara felt it even before she saw Snape standing near the potion’s cauldron, the shadows falling around him like a cloak of secrets, as though the moon itself had pulled him into its orbit.

“You’re late,” Snape said with his usual dry humor, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

“Had to get out of a Charms study session,” Tara answered, flashing him a grin. “It was difficult when the primary argument for staying was that the entire seventh year was getting together for it.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “And how did you extract yourself?”

“I claimed my ‘moon cycle’ was in disagreement with being in public tonight, and they relented.”

“I suppose that's one excuse I’ve never considered.”

“Well, it’s kind of true. It just isn’t ONLY my moon cycle but THE moon cycle that calls me here tonight.”

Tara moved closer to the cauldron, where the glowing Elixir of the Moonlit Veil was already prepared for them to imbibe. “What do you think?”

“I think I’ve made the most potent moon-enhanced concoction this school has ever seen,” Snape replied, his lips curling into a rare smile. “And I think you’re rather lovely this evening.”

Tara beamed at the outright flirtation.

Snape met her eyes, the depth of the night’s magic reflected in his gaze. “It’s time.”

Tara’s heart skipped a beat. “To drink it?”

“To drink it, and to see where the moon will take us,” Snape said, his voice low, almost reverent.

They each took a long sip, the potion’s power curling in their veins. The world around them suddenly shifted, the air thick with magic, the lights more alive, and the moonlight itself seemed to reach into them, filling the whole of their bodies and souls with an intensity they hadn’t anticipated. Tara’s senses sharpened—colors were brighter, sounds more distinct, and the feel of Snape’s presence beside her seemed magnified.

“Ready?” Snape asked, his voice a whisper that seemed to resonate within her.

Tara grinned, feeling as though she were standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. “Ready for anything.”

The potion coursed through Tara’s veins, igniting her senses with a brilliance that felt almost too much to contain. The world sharpened around her—colors blazed, sounds resonated like melodies, and the very air seemed to hum with energy.

Beside her, Snape stood like a shadow come to life, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight. There was something unguarded about his expression, a rare glimpse beneath the carefully controlled exterior.

“Do you feel it?” she asked, her voice a reverent whisper.

Snape’s gaze locked onto hers, his usual reserve softened by the raw magic pulsing between them. “It’s… extraordinary,” he murmured, his words almost swallowed by the charged air.

They left the laboratory together, their steps light but purposeful. As they emerged into the open air, the weight of the castle fell away, replaced by the embrace of the moonlight. Tara tilted her face upward, letting the silvery light wash over her. Snape watched her for a moment before taking her hand, his fingers surprisingly warm against hers.

“Come,” he said, his voice a quiet command, and together, they rose into the air, magic lifting them like an invisible tide. The Forbidden Forest welcomed them with its shadows and whispers, the trees shimmering as if bowing to the moon’s dominion.

The night sky stretched above them, vast and infinite, its stars twinkling with a quiet, knowing glow. The full moon bathed the grounds in its ethereal light, casting long shadows over the grounds, but it was the air itself that felt different—alive with magic, with possibility. There was nothing constrained here, nothing to hold them back. No rules, no expectations, just the wild, untamed energy of the night coursing through their veins.

Tara took a deep breath, feeling the rush of fresh air fill her lungs. For the first time in weeks, she felt truly free. The press of Hogwarts’ ancient halls, with their whispers of history and the oppressive weight of her secrets, faded away. Here, in the open air, there was nothing but the moon, the earth, and the two of them, bound together by something far stronger than mere magic—something elemental.

The forest seemed to exhale as they crossed into the shadows of the trees, embracing them. The dense canopy above was no longer dark and foreboding but alive with the pulse of the moon’s magic. Leaves shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and each step stirred the air, leaving trails of luminous dust.

Without a word, they removed their shoes, their bare feet sinking into the cool, moonlit earth. The connection to the ground sent a thrill through Tara’s body, as if the very soil carried the moon’s blessing. She glanced at Snape, his dark eyes glinting with an intensity that mirrored her own.

In an unspoken challenge, she raised her wand, a ribbon of light spiraling into the night. The forest shuddered, the trees swaying in response. She laughed, the sound echoing through the woods, untamed and exhilarating.

Snape followed, his wand casting a dark, elegant arc of magic that intertwined with hers. Their energies met and mingled, a perfect harmony of light and shadow. The air buzzed with their combined power, the world around them shimmering as though it, too, was caught in their spell.

And then, as if pulled together by the same magnetic force, they collided. The kiss was fierce, desperate—a culmination of everything they had held back. It was raw and consuming, pulling them into the very heart of the moon’s magic. Tara felt the world fall away, the magic of the night spinning them in a dizzying dance of power and passion.

Their clothing fell away, forgotten in the urgency of their connection. Skin met skin, warm against the cool night air. The magic swirling around them seemed to weave into their very beings, binding them in a way that was both primal and profound. Tara could feel him as though they were one being, their breaths and heartbeats synchronizing, their bodies merging into something greater.

As their movements stilled, a deep silence settled over them. Snape rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her cheek. “We’ve crossed a line tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Tara’s fingers splayed across his chest, her touch steady. “Not a line,” she whispered. “A threshold. And I don’t regret it.”

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the magic easing but not disappearing. They remained entwined, their bond pulsing with a quiet strength. It was more than a connection; it was a vow, sealed under the watchful gaze of the moon.

Tara could feel it in her bones, in the deep, unshakeable certainty that settled in her chest. This was no simple enchantment but something far greater. They had woven their minds, their magic, and every other part of themselves together in a way that was more profound than marriage, more sacred than any vow. This was the unspoken promise of the moon, itself the bound lover of the Earth.

The power of the potion was waning, but the bond remained, pulsing almost imperceptibly between them. The silence that followed was not empty but full—alive with the echoes of magic and the unspoken promise of what they had become.

Chapter 21: A Blessing of Secrets

The headmaster’s office was as it always had been—full of enigmatic trinkets, softly ticking devices, and the lingering scent of lemon drops. Snape stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his dark robes blending with the shadowed corner of the room. Outside, the castle grounds were bathed in the pale light of the dawn, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes were fixed on him, though his expression remained unreadable. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, Dumbledore broke it.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Severus,” he said lightly, though there was no mistaking the weight behind his words.

Snape’s lips twitched, but he didn’t turn. “I have been busy, Headmaster.”

“Busy, yes,” Dumbledore replied, leaning forward in his chair, his fingers steepling in front of him. “But not so busy that I haven’t heard reports from all corners of Hogwarts. There were… disturbances, shall we say? Wild magic emanating from the Forbidden Forest last night, magic that doesn’t quite match any known enchantments.”

Snape stiffened, his pulse quickening ever so slightly. He knew exactly what Dumbledore was referencing, but he held himself calm, choosing his words carefully. “I assure you, Headmaster, it was simply an… experiment. A bit of potion exploration that may have gone a touch awry.”

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, his eyes not leaving Snape. “Potion exploration, indeed. However, it was no ordinary potion, was it? Apparently some of the magic that you and young Miss Lionheart were dabbling in last night has left quite an impression on the castle. And quite a few raised eyebrows among the centaurs who were even closer to it.”

The weight of Dumbledore’s gaze was enough to make Snape feel exposed. He was aware of the risks, aware of the powerful forces he’d let loose with the Elixir of the Moonlit Veil. But he wasn’t prepared for this—Dumbledore, knowing what they’d done, and being... so quiet about it.IT would be better if the reaction were scorn, condemnation, anger. Those were things he knew how to handle.

“I trust you’ll take responsibility for the consequences,” Dumbledore continued, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something sharper. “The magic you’ve created isn’t passing.”

Snape clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing. “You don’t have to explain that to me. I can feel it: her pulsing in my veins even now. I can feel exactly how many steps are needed to remove the separation between us. I can feel that she still sleeps in bliss, dreaming of that power and how it… and I… filled her.”

“Tell me, Severus,” Dumbledore replied, his tone soft but insistent. “What exactly were you trying to achieve? You know as well as I do that such magic is not something to be taken lightly. Why last night?”

Snape finally turned to face him, his eyes dark and guarded. “I… None of this was supposed to happen,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her, let alone this… intensity. She was meant to be another student, another name to forget once they’d left these halls. And yet…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“And yet?” Dumbledore prompted gently, his expression unreadable.

Snape met his gaze, a deep unease settling in his chest. “And yet she is everything I didn’t know I needed. She sees me—not the mask, not the darkness—but me. And she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t run. I took the risk to share something precious and wonderful with her… And it was both.

Dumbledore regarded him for a moment, his expression softening. “Love has a way of sneaking up on us, Severus. It often defies logic and breaks through the walls we’ve so carefully constructed.”

Snape scoffed, though there was no malice in it. “Logic would have been preferable. This… this is chaos.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said with a slight chuckle. “But chaos can be beautiful. It can lead to growth, to healing. And it seems to me that Tara has brought both into your life.”

Snape remained silent, his thoughts churning as the weight of Dumbledore’s words settled over him. There was no denying it—what had happened, what was happening, between him and Tara, was chaos. But it was more than that. It was a force neither of them could control, not fully.

“And what about her?” Snape asked finally, his voice quieter now, as though he were speaking more to himself than to Dumbledore. “She deserves more than I can give her. A life without shadows. Without danger.”

Dumbledore’s gaze softened further, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with the familiar calm of one who had seen far more than he let on. “And yet, Severus, she has chosen you. That speaks to her courage, her strength. Do not underestimate what she brings to this partnership. Love is not about perfection; it is about balance. And from what I’ve observed, you balance each other remarkably well.”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he allowed himself to consider the words, to let them seep into the cracks of his doubts.

“And the consequences?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “What happens when this is no longer a secret? When the whispers turn to shouts, and the world comes crashing down around us?”

Dumbledore’s expression grew solemn, but there was a glimmer of steel in his eyes. “That reaction is possible but not certain. Still whatever the reaction, you will face those challenges together. And should the time come when you need support, you will find it—here, and elsewhere.”

Snape tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You’re giving your blessing, then?”

Dumbledore’s smile returned, warm and genuine. “My dear boy, you already have it. You had it the moment I saw how she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching—and how you look at her. Love like that is rare, Severus. Cherish it.”

The words struck a chord deep within Snape, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself a small, genuine smile. It was fleeting, but it was there.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Go to her, Severus. The rest will come in time.”

As Snape left the office, the morning sun seemed a little brighter, the castle a little less heavy. He didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, he felt something akin to hope.



Severus walked briskly through the winding halls of Hogwarts, the remnants of Dumbledore’s words still echoing in his mind. The decision had been made—he would face whatever consequences came, side by side with Tara. But the weight of it all pressed on him still.

He reached the door to the parlor, the room he and Tara had claimed as their own. The soft glow of a fire flickered within, casting long shadows on the walls. Tara wasn't awake yet, he knew, but that didn’t matter. He needed to be there, beside her, to feel their newly united energies as complete once more.

Stepping inside, Snape closed the door behind him and moved toward the hearth, the warmth of the fire a sharp contrast to the storm still brewing in his chest. He couldn’t help but let his gaze fall on the small, makeshift bed they had created more than once assembled again, his love’s sleeping form snuggled within. Tara’s presence pulled him like a magnetic force, calling to him.

He couldn’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips. There were no answers, not yet. But he had a chance to build something with her—a future, however uncertain—and that was more than he had ever dared to hope for.

Turning to the bed, he knew that whatever came next, they would face it together. And that, for once, gave him the courage to keep moving forward. Settled with that choice, he removed his shoes and moved in to hold his sleeping fire-hair beauty until she woke and their day began.

Chapter 22: A Quiet Reckoning

The days following that night felt like a strange blur to Tara. She moved through her classes on autopilot, her interactions with classmates passing in a fog. By day, she wore the same face she always had—focused, collected—but inside, her thoughts drifted, often miles away. Night, though, was when it all became real again. The silvery moonlight, the surge of wild magic, and the undeniable pull toward Severus that now thrummed through her like a second heartbeat. It wasn’t just her mind that was tethered to him; there was a magical cord between them, invisible to anyone else, but deeply felt by her. A constant hum in the back of her thoughts.

Tonks and Penny were as perceptive as always, but even their sharp eyes couldn’t pierce through the walls she’d erected. They asked her questions about her distraction, but Tara had learned to deflect them with ease. They couldn’t see what had changed—what no one could see—the way she now felt Severus’s presence in the air around her, how he lingered just beyond her thoughts, always with her, always a part of her.

That evening, as the castle settled into its quiet, familiar rhythm, Tara felt the pull again. It was as if the bond between her and Severus had taken on a life of its own, urging her toward him. She didn’t question it anymore. She knew where she was going. The Restricted Potions Lab.

When she arrived, Severus was already waiting for her. He stood between two cauldrons, the one for the T.o.T. and another. His black robes sweep around him like the shadows of night. His pale face was framed by dark hair, but when he looked up, Tara caught the flicker of something in his eyes—something warmer than she had ever seen before.

“Tara,” he said, his voice low and warm, and the way he said her name sent a jolt of warmth through her chest.

“Severus,” she responded, her voice breathless as she stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

He crossed the space between them with long strides, reaching out to take her hand. His touch was firm and reassuring, sending a ripple of comfort through her. “How are you holding up?”

Tara offered him a small, rueful smile. “Adjusting. It’s… strange. Like you’re always there, even when you’re not.”

Severus nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as if savoring the sensation. “We’ll grow used to it. The bond is powerful, but it will settle with time.”

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to study him, her eyes searching.

He smirked faintly. “I find myself feeling unusually… comforted. Your presence is constant, a balm I didn’t know I needed. It’s not unwelcome, though.” His dark eyes met hers, softening in a way that was both surprising and sincere. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you until now, when you’ve become unavoidable.”

For a moment, Tara was speechless. Severus Snape, a man who rarely revealed his emotions, was being uncharacteristically open with her. And somehow, she knew he wasn’t just saying it to placate her. The sincerity in his gaze was unmistakable.

He released her hand reluctantly and gestured toward the cauldron. “Tonight, I’ve started a new batch of Veritaserum. A favorite of mine.” His voice shifted slightly, as if to mark the transition back to the more familiar ground of their work. “The patience, the precision—there’s a certain satisfaction to it.”

Tara grinned. “So not one you need my assistance with.”

“Don’t be foolish. At this point, I need your assistance with everything.” The dry tone of his voice was softened by the faintest twitch at the corners of his lips, an expression she recognized as his sly smile.

The next hour passed in quiet collaboration, the sound of bubbling potions and the rhythmic movements of their hands blending together in a shared task. Tara marveled at how easily they worked together, their movements synchronized, as if they had been doing this for years. When they finally added the last ingredient and set the potion to simmer, Severus turned toward her, his eyes glinting with an unspoken thought.

“I spoke with Albus earlier this week,” he said casually, as though the conversation were nothing out of the ordinary.

Tara’s heartbeat quickened. “Oh?”

“He’s aware of the… depth of our connection,” Severus continued, studying her intently. “And he’s given his blessing.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean?”

A wry smile tugged at his lips. “It means I’ll maintain appearances for your sake. You’re entitled to a reasonably normal school experience, after all.” He stepped closer to her, his presence looming, yet somehow grounding. “But I am under no illusion that I am anything other than yours. Through and through.” He took a breath, his voice lowering with intention. “And when you’re ready to make this... what we have... known to the world, I will stand by you. Whatever it takes.”

Tara’s heart raced as he drew nearer, his words a solemn promise. His hand brushed a strand of hair from her face, lingering against her cheek in a gesture that seemed both tender and possessive. “You are mine, Tara. And I am yours. There is no reason to hide that from each other.”

Her breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest. “You mean that?”

Severus’s voice was low, steady, and unwavering. “Every word. You were brave enough to claim me under the moonlight. I owe you nothing less for the rest of our lives.”

Tara couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, a soft, quiet joy blooming in her chest. No matter what the world might think or how others might see them, she knew the truth. She and Severus had chosen each other. Bound together by a magic older and deeper than anything they could explain. And nothing, nothing in this world could break that bond.

Chapter 23: A Future Unveiled

The Hufflepuff common room glowed warmly, the fire casting shadows across the walls. Tara sat in her corner, her books shielding her from the lively hum of her housemates. Despite her best efforts, her focus kept slipping. With her N.E.W.T.s approaching, she had thrown herself into studying, hoping the rigor would quiet the strange dissonance she felt within herself.

But the unfamiliarity of her body betrayed her concentration. Subtle changes gnawed at the edges of her awareness—things she couldn’t quite name, yet couldn’t ignore. Something had shifted, as if her very being had been rewritten. The thought left her restless, though she tried to bury it in her studies.

“Tara, honestly!” Tonks’ exasperated voice broke through her reverie. She stood over Tara, hands on her hips, her turquoise hair catching the firelight. “You’re going to turn into one of those books if you don’t take a break.”

“I’m fine,” Tara replied without looking up, though the lie sounded thin even to her.

“No, you’re not,” Penny chimed in, her sly smile hinting at mischief. She appeared beside Tonks, leaning conspiratorially. “You need a distraction. And it just so happens that some of the fourth years are dabbling in divination tonight. Come be their guinea pig.”

“I’d rather—”

“Nope!” Tonks interrupted, grabbing Tara’s arm with a grin. “Come on. You’ll thank us later.”

Before Tara could protest further, they were dragging her toward the center of the room. A cluster of younger students had assembled a makeshift divination setup: steaming teacups, a deck of tarot cards, and an unmistakable air of excitement.

“Oh! Perfect timing!” one of the younger girls exclaimed as Tara was seated. “We just brewed a fresh pot.”

Tara sighed but allowed herself to go along with it, if only to quiet her friends’ persistent nagging. She took the teacup handed to her, its steam curling like phantom whispers, and swirled the liquid absently. A question emerged unbidden in her mind, circling like a chant: What’s happening to me?

“Drink it all,” a student instructed, wide-eyed. “Then swirl the leaves. Keep your question in your mind.”

Tara complied, the tea’s warmth doing little to ease her unease. As she handed the cup back, the students huddled eagerly around it, their whispers growing louder.

“It’s a cradle!” one declared, pointing at the patterns.

“And a moon,” another added. “That’s... fertility, isn’t it?”

Tara’s stomach flipped. Fertility? A nervous laugh escaped her, but the possibility lodged itself firmly in her mind.

Chiara, her expression unusually serious, took the cup from the younger girls. As the most experienced in divination among them, her word carried weight. She studied the leaves with a furrowed brow before setting the cup down with a small, deliberate motion.

“They’re not wrong,” she said quietly. “It’s clear as day.”

Tara’s heart raced. “It could just mean... someday, right? A future portent?” Her voice sounded almost pleading.

Chiara’s hesitation spoke volumes. Instead of answering, she reached for the tarot deck. “Let’s see what the cards have to say.”

Tara hesitated but placed her hands over the cards, the question burning in her mind. Chiara shuffled, her movements deliberate, and then dealt three cards face-up.

“The Empress,” Chiara said, her voice steady. “Creation, abundance... motherhood.”

Tara’s breath hitched. The word echoed in her mind, stirring vivid flashes: the bond, the magic, the night in the forest...

“The Moon,” Chiara continued, her tone softer now. “Secrets, intuition, cycles.”

Tara bit her lip. Secrets. So many secrets…

“And the Page of Cups,” Chiara finished, her gaze locking onto Tara’s. “A message about a child.”

The room erupted in whispers, but Tara barely heard them. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stared at the cards. The images were too precise, too aligned with the storm inside her to ignore.

“We need more clarity,” Chiara declared, breaking the tension. She sent Tonks upstairs to retrieve her crystal ball, while Penny rubbed Tara’s shoulders in a soothing gesture.

The common room seemed to hold its breath as Chiara worked her magic over the orb, murmuring an incantation. The crystal began to shimmer, revealing an image that unfolded in stages. First, it showed Tara, her hands cradling a rounded belly within the familiar walls of Hogwarts. The vision shifted to a dark-haired child with Tara’s bright eyes and delicate features. The final scene depicted Tara and the infant in the Great Hall, surrounded by students in their robes, joyfully greeting the baby.

Gasps filled the room.

“Is that—?”

“Are you really—?”

Tara raised her hands, her cheeks burning as the questions bombarded her. Panic flared in her chest, but beneath it, a quiet certainty began to form.

“Enough!” she said, her voice steady but firm. The room quieted, every eye fixed on her.

“Yes,” she began, her hands trembling slightly. “I believe I am... pregnant.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd, but Tara pressed on. “As for who...” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s someone I love deeply. We bonded—mind, body, and soul—under the full moon. During the magic storm in the forest.”

Murmurs swept through the group.

“You mean you were out in that?” Cedric Diggory asked, his tone more awed than accusing.

“I was. The magic you saw? That was us.” Her voice softened, carrying a note of reverence. “We were joined in a way that few would understand. It was... profound.”

A first-year whispered, wide-eyed, “A magical soul bond?”

“Yes,” Tara said, her voice gaining strength. “It’s ancient magic, powerful and rare. I didn’t realize just how much it had changed me until now.”

The room buzzed again, but Chiara stepped forward, her expression kind. “Tara,” she said gently, “we’re here for you.”

“Yeah,” Tonks echoed, her grin irrepressible. “I mean, I need all the details at some point, but you’re not alone.”

The murmurs softened, nods and murmured agreements spreading through the group. Tara felt tears prick her eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief. Whatever lay ahead, she wasn’t alone—not in her house, not in her bond.

She glanced out the window, the full moon now a faint memory in the night sky. Her heart swelled with hope. Whatever her future held, it had already begun, and she was ready to meet it.

Chapter 24: The Bond Deepens

The Hufflepuff common room had finally begun to settle, the excited chatter about Tara’s readings dwindling into soft murmurs. Tara excused herself under the pretense of needing fresh air, though her thoughts were too turbulent to stay among her housemates any longer.

As she stepped into the castle corridors, the cool air wrapped around her, bringing a sense of clarity. Her mind swirled with the extraordinary revelations of the evening, the weight of her housemates’ whispers still pressing against her chest. She focused on the bond humming gently at the edge of her awareness, the ever-present connection to Severus. He felt her call, and she knew he would be waiting.

When she reached the parlor, Severus was already there, pacing the length of the room. The sight of him—his movements taut with tension, his dark eyes sharp as they turned toward her—sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze sweeping over her.

Tara closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment before stepping forward. “I will be,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. “Now that I’m here with you, I already am.”

Severus’s expression shifted, the sharp lines of his face softening slightly as he stilled. “I felt your panic,” Severus said, his voice low.

Tara hesitated, then said, “I’m pregnant.”

The weight of her confession hung in the air. Severus froze, his dark eyes widening briefly before narrowing as he stepped toward her. “Are you well?” he asked, his voice unusually tender. “Have you seen Madame Pomfrey?”

Tara nodded quickly. “I’m fine. It’s still early. I didn’t even suspect until tonight.” She hesitated, then added, “Everyone in my house knows. The divination exercises… they saw it. The tea leaves, the cards, the crystal ball—they all pointed to the same conclusion.”

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And they do not know about me?”

“No,” Tara said, shaking her head. “They know I have a magically bonded partner and that the bond formed during the storm. But I didn’t share anything about you. I wouldn’t.”

Severus exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. “It’s far from ideal,” he murmured, “but not insurmountable.”

“I know,” Tara said, stepping closer. “But what do we do now? Do we tell everyone, or keep this… ours for a while longer?”

Severus’s expression darkened with thought, his hand brushing his jaw. “If we go public now, it will invite scrutiny,” he said carefully. “The students will gossip. The staff will question.” His voice dropped. “And my past will be laid bare.”

Tara placed her hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. “Hiding it will make it seem like we’re ashamed,” she said softly. “And I’m not. Are you?”

His gaze snapped to hers, a fierce light in his eyes. “Never,” he said firmly. “Our bond, this child… they are everything.”

Her breath caught at his words, her heart swelling. She squeezed his arm. “Then we decide together. What feels right for us, not anyone else.”

Severus studied her for a long moment before nodding. “For now, we keep it between us. But we’ll work on a plan for when we do reveal it.”

Relief coursed through Tara. “Agreed. I’d like it to be before the end of the year. After graduation, well I have no intention of leaving your side and at that point it will become clear to everyone anyway.”



The next evening, Tara found herself in the restricted potions lab, her nerves tingling as Severus turned to face her. He had been absent most of the day, his whereabouts unknown even through their bond other than ‘far’. It had made for a strained day to say the least.

The moment they were alone, he reached into his robes and withdrew a small, elegant box. Inside was a ring—platinum, etched with intricate runes and the phases of the moon. The symbols shimmered faintly with magic, catching the light in a way that felt alive.

“This is not a proposal in the traditional sense,” Severus said, his voice steady but low. “Our bond is already beyond symbols or ceremonies. But with the attention on you, on us, this will serve as a declaration. A promise. To you and our child.”

Tara’s breath caught as he slid the ring onto her finger. The metal was cool against her skin, but it warmed instantly, resonating with their magic.

“Severus,” she whispered, emotion thickening her voice. “It’s perfect.”

His hand lingered on hers, his dark eyes softening. “You’ve always been perfect, Tara,” he said. “And you’ve made me believe in something I never thought possible. A future.”

Tara stepped into his arms, their bond humming with an intensity that needed no words. “This will help,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. “I can tell the curious I’m engaged. It will ease some of their worries.”

“Good.”

“And…” she hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the ring. “I have a meeting with Madam Pomfrey tomorrow. To check on our daughter.”

“Daughter?” Severus’s curiosity sharpened, his gaze intent.

Tara smiled, her eyes shining. “In the crystal ball… we saw her. She has your dark hair, my facial structure, and eyes that are a perfect mix of ours. She’s already so precious to me. Her face lives in my mind everytime I think about having a baby inside of me. I just wish you could see her too.”

Severus’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I can see her too, if you’ll let me.”

Her heart fluttered at his gentle invitation and her realization that he was right. Closing her eyes, she allowed him to enter her mind through their bond and his skill at legilimency. His presence wove into hers, brushing against her thoughts with the tenderness of a whispered caress.

Through the bond, she felt his awe, his quiet joy as he saw their daughter.

“She is beautiful,” he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder.

Tara’s voice faltered as she whispered, “She’s everything.” Her fingers traced the ring on her hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“And I will experience it all with you,” Severus said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “We are a family, Tara. No distance, no uncertainty, can change that.”

As their foreheads touched, their bond pulsed with the promise of their shared future. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. And in that moment, Tara felt truly at peace.

Chapter 25: Wedding Plans

As the chill of winter softened into the gentler breezes of spring, Hogwarts seemed to hum with anticipation. For most students, the upcoming Easter holidays meant a break from studies and time spent with family. But for Tara and Severus, the season carried the weight of far greater preparations: their impending wedding ceremony.

The idea had taken shape in their late-night meetings, growing into a tangible plan as the weeks went by. Tara had been the one to tentatively broach the subject, nervous yet resolute.

“Since others cannot understand the depth of our bond,” she had said, “shouldn’t we make our commitment public? It would give us a chance to stand together, openly.”

Severus had paused, his dark eyes narrowing in thought before he nodded. “You’re right. It would give us legitimacy. Protection.” Then, softening, he added, “And it would make you happy. I can feel it.”

Now, as they sat together in his quarters, parchments strewn across the table between them, the details began to crystallize. Tara chewed the end of her quill thoughtfully, a faraway look in her eyes.

“The grounds,” she mused aloud. “By the lake? Or perhaps near the Forbidden Forest? It feels… sacred there.”

Severus considered her suggestion, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. “The lake has its merits,” he said. “But the forest… it carries an ancient magic. It’s fitting, given our bond took shape there.”

“Then the edge of the forest it is,” Tara decided, her voice bright with excitement. She began scribbling notes, her handwriting looping with unrestrained enthusiasm.

A soft knock interrupted their planning. Severus waved his wand, and the door creaked open to reveal Albus Dumbledore, his expression one of mild curiosity mingled with his usual enigmatic cheer.

“I hear wedding bells might soon echo across the castle grounds,” he said, stepping inside. “I thought it prudent to offer my assistance, should you require it.”

Tara launched into an explanation, her hands gesturing animatedly as she detailed their hopes for the ceremony. Dumbledore listened intently, his fingers steepled and a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

“The idea is charming,” he said when she finished. “And I see no reason why we cannot arrange for your guests to stay. After all, Hogwarts is a place of magic, learning, and love—your union embodies all three.”

Tara’s cheeks flushed with gratitude. Severus, though less outwardly expressive, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“And the ceremony?” Severus asked. “Would the forest’s edge present any… challenges?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “The forest is ancient, yes, but it will not object to your plans. In fact, I suspect it may bless your union in its own mysterious way.”

Tara glanced at Severus, her eyes alight with wonder. “Then it’s decided,” she said softly.

Dumbledore nodded. “It will be a ceremony to remember,” he said. “And a beacon of hope for all who witness it.”

As the meeting concluded, Tara turned to Severus, her voice filled with quiet excitement. “It’s really happening.”

Severus reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. “It is happening,” he said, his voice quieter than usual but steady. “And while perfection may elude us, I will ensure it is everything you deserve.”

Outside, spring unfurled its promise of new beginnings. And within the walls of Hogwarts, Tara and Severus took the first steps toward their future, united in purpose and love.

The door had barely closed behind Dumbledore when Tara turned to Severus, her expression still bright with excitement from their conversation. The weight of planning had begun to settle into a more tangible form, but there was one lingering thread she couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” she began, her voice hesitant but resolute, “if we’re going to make this wedding public, we’ll need to talk to our families.”

Severus’s brow furrowed, the hint of a scowl forming. “Your parents will expect it,” he said after a pause. “Mine… that is a different matter.”

Tara reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his. “We should still try. Your mother deserves to know—she’s a part of this. And I can’t do this without telling my parents. They’ve been so good to me, Severus. They’ve trusted me to make my own decisions. If I don’t tell them before the world finds out…” She stopped, her voice laced with emotion.

He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “As much as I loathe the idea of involving anyone beyond you and me, this will require more than just our decisions. They need to know. And perhaps… they deserve to know.”

Tara smiled, her relief evident. “We’ll visit them over the Easter holiday,” she said. “We can talk to my parents first, then your mother. What do you think?”

Severus inclined his head. “It’s a logical plan. Your parents will likely need more reassurance—convincing, even.”

Tara winced slightly, but nodded. “They’ll have questions. A lot of questions. But they’ve always supported me. They’ll see what this means to me. To us.”

Severus’s gaze softened, the stern lines of his face easing. “And my mother… Eileen may be more accepting than you expect. She’s always had a complicated relationship with… trust, but she values loyalty. If she sees how loyal we are to each other, she’ll understand.”

Tara hesitated before speaking again. “What about your father?”

The air seemed to chill slightly. Severus’s jaw tightened, and he looked away. “Tobias Snape is dead,” he said curtly. “He has no further place in my life.”

Tara didn’t press further, She’d lived in his fear of the man. She knew what the venom was from. Instead, she focused on the path they could take. “All right,” she said gently. “Then it’s settled. Easter holiday. My parents, then your mother.”

Severus nodded, his expression unreadable, but the bond between them hummed with quiet agreement.

Tara tilted her head, her smile softening. “Do you think your mother will like me?”

He met her gaze, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “If she doesn’t, it won’t matter,” he said, his tone resolute. “Because I do. And that is all that matters.”

Tara felt her heart swell at his words. The weight of what lay ahead seems lighter, knowing they would face it together.

“Easter holiday,” she said again, more for herself than him. “It’ll be good.”

“It will be,” Severus said, his voice steady. “We’ll make it so.”

With that, the conversation shifted back to their wedding plans, but the quiet determination in their voices carried forward. Together, they would build the bridges they needed for the life they were creating—starting with their families.

Chapter 26: Meeting the Lionhearts

The morning was crisp, the air tinged with the freshness of spring as Tara and Severus disapparated to a quiet corner of Loch Drakkonis, a magical village near Edinburgh. A short walk brought them to the Lionheart estate, a sprawling home surrounded by lush gardens that hinted at the family’s deep magical roots.

They had left Hogwarts early, traveling discreetly from Hogsmeade to avoid unwanted attention. As they made their way to the magical village of Loch Drakkonis, located near Edinburgh, the tension between them was palpable. Tara adjusted her cloak nervously, casting a glance at Severus, who seemed composed, if not slightly more reserved than usual.

“You’re sure they don’t know I’m more than just your Potions professor?” Severus asked, his tone neutral but with an edge of concern.

“I thought it best to ease them into the idea,” Tara admitted. “Dad will be thrilled to discuss the Elixir. It’s the perfect way to start the conversation. Mum…” She hesitated. “Mum just needs to know I’m happy… I think.”

Severus nodded. “Very well. Let us hope your plan succeeds.”

“Worst case, you have your stern teacher's voice and look of disdain to fall back on…” Tara joked as they reached the entrance to the lionheart family estate, a home this subset of Lionhearts just took possession of last summer after the estranged pure-blood fanatics had all passed away.

The door opened before they could knock, revealing Leticia Lionheart, whose warm smile faltered only slightly as she took in Severus’ presence. “Tara, darling,” she greeted, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. Her gaze shifted to Severus. Her warm smile faltered only slightly, replaced by a measured politeness that hinted at her protective instincts as a mother. “And you must be Professor Snape. Welcome.”

Ozymandias appeared behind her, his eccentric robes seemed to reflect his enthusiasm, which bubbled over as he extended a vigorous handshake to Severus. “Severus Snape! A name I’ve long admired in the field of potions,” he exclaimed, shaking Severus’ hand enthusiastically. “Come in, come in. I can’t wait to hear what you and my Tara have been working on.”

They were ushered into a cozy sitting room, where tea and biscuits awaited. Tara took a deep breath, launching into an explanation of her involvement in Severus’ potions project. She described their exploration of ancient alchemical texts and their work refining the Elixir of the Moonlit Veil.

Ozymandias’ eyes sparkled with interest. “Enhancing power in conjunction with the lunar phases, you say? Fascinating! And you’ve tested it?”

“We… we have.” Tara hesitated, the weight of her secrets pressing against her. She had planned to ease them into the truth, but the warmth of her parents’ gaze and the strength of Severus beside her emboldened her. ‘Mum, Dah... there’s something you should know,’ she began, her voice trembling but steady. “The results were profound, especially during the full moon. It… brought us closer than we anticipated.”

Leticia’s brow furrowed. “Closer how?”

Tara’s cheeks flushed. “The Elixir’s potency is such that it amplifies instinct and intuition. It filled us with that plus more power than I’ve ever imagined… it… well, we… bonded ourselves—mind, body, and soul. Mum, Dah, what I’m trying to say is that Severus and I… we’re engaged. And we’re expecting a child.” Tara threw it all out there, losing track of the plan and getting straight to the point.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Ozymandias leaned back, his expression unreadable, while Leticia’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for a response.

“Engaged?” Leticia finally said, her voice trembling. “And expecting? Tara, you’re barely of age. How could this happen?”

“Mum,” Tara said softly, reaching for her hand. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But Severus and I didn’t plan this. It… it just happened, like rain or moon cycles. Our bond is real, and it’s unbreakable. But more than that, we love each other.”

Leticia turned to Severus, her eyes narrowing. “And you? A man thirteen years her senior? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Severus met her gaze steadily. “Mrs. Lionheart, I will not deny the unorthodox nature of our relationship. But I assure you, my intentions toward Tara are honorable, and have always been honorable. She is intelligent, courageous, and extraordinary. I did not seek this bond, but I will cherish and protect it—and her—for as long as I live.”

“You speak well for her, Professor Snape. That’s something I didn’t expect—though perhaps I should have. Nonetheless...”

Ozymandias, who had been silent, suddenly leaned forward. “This bond… it was forged during the full moon, you say? The Elixir amplified your connection to such a degree? Remarkable. Tell me, did you refine the formula to account for lunar fluctuations?”

Severus nodded. “I adjusted the ratio of stargrass to moonstone, ensuring the effects were balanced… and then I added the moonpetal Tara gave me as a gift and tripled the elixir’s power. The resulting potion not only amplified our power but allowed us to feel the mind of the moon or whatever energy governs it.”

Ozymandias’ stern expression softened as curiosity overtook him. “Ingenious. Truly ingenious. And the merging of your souls… I’ve read theories about such phenomena but never encountered a practical example. You’ve made history, my boy.”

Leticia shot her husband a look. “Ozy, this isn’t about potions. It’s about our daughter’s future.”

Tara took her mother’s hands in hers. “Mum, my future hasn’t changed. I’ve always wanted to be a healer, and I’ve already started talking to Madam Pomfrey about becoming her assistant after graduation. Albus Dumbledore has agreed as well. Severus supports me in everything. He’s my partner, not my keeper.”

Leticia’s eyes searched her daughter’s face, her expression softening. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’ve never been more certain,” Tara said, her voice firm with conviction.

After a long pause, Leticia sighed, a small smile breaking through. “Well, as long as you’re happy.”

Ozymandias clapped Severus on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family, my boy. And do let me know if you need a second set of eyes on that Elixir formula.”

As the afternoon wore on, the tension melted away, replaced by lively conversation and tentative warmth. When they left, Tara felt a weight lift from her shoulders. They had been tested, and they had prevailed.

As they walked back toward the edge of the village, Severus glanced at Tara, his expression soft. “That went better than expected.”

Tara smiled, slipping her hand into his. “I told you they’d come around.”

“You were right,” he admitted. “As always.”

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the path ahead. Together, they moved forward, ready to face whatever came next, for them that meant a ride on the knight bus: destination–Spinner’s End and one Eileen Snape.

Chapter 27: Spinner’s End

The Knight Bus jolted to a stop at the corner of Spinner’s End, its violent sway doing little to prepare Tara for the stark reality of Severus’s childhood home. The houses loomed like sentinels of an unyielding past, their soot-stained exteriors standing in stark contrast to the warmth of her family’s estate. Tara’s heart ached for Severus, knowing this place had shaped much of the man he had become. she stepped down onto the uneven cobblestones, clutching her hand bag, while Severus followed with an uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Are you sure she’s expecting us?” Tara asked gently, her voice breaking the oppressive silence.

“She’s expecting me,” Severus replied, his tone clipped. “I never told her I’d be bringing… company.”

Tara raised a brow but said nothing. She knew better than to press; this was clearly a difficult visit for Severus. As they walked toward the modest house at the end of the row, she noted his shoulders stiffen, his steps measured and deliberate.

The door to the house was old and weather-beaten, its paint peeling away in layers. Severus knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Moments later, the door creaked open to reveal Eileen Snape, a wiry woman with sharp features and tired eyes. Her graying hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her plain robes hung loosely on her frame.

“Severus,” she greeted, her voice flat but not unkind. Her gaze shifted to Tara, her eyes narrowing slightly in appraisal. “And this is…?”

“Tara Lionheart,” Severus said, his tone formal. “My fiancée.”

If Eileen was surprised, she hid it well. Her gaze lingered on Tara for a beat too long, however, a flicker of something unspoken passing over her features—skepticism, perhaps, or curiosity. She stepped aside to let them in. The house’s interior was as bleak as its exterior: cramped, dimly lit, and filled with the faint scent of mildew. Furniture was sparse, walls lined with shelves crammed with dusty books and potion bottles.

Tara offered a polite smile as she stepped inside, though her heart ached at the cold atmosphere. She could see the remnants of a life lived in hardship, the weight of which still clung to Severus like a shadow.

Eileen motioned for them to sit at a small table in the kitchen. “Tea?” she asked brusquely, already reaching for the kettle.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Tara said, trying to inject some warmth into the conversation.

As Eileen busied herself, Severus sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Tara placed a reassuring hand on his arm, earning a brief glance from him before he looked away.

“So,” Eileen said as she set three mismatched cups on the table, her gaze settling on Tara. “Fiancée, is it? You’ll forgive my surprise. Severus hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about his… personal life.”

Tara nodded. “I understand. It’s a lot to take in.” She hesitated before adding, “We wanted to come here to share the news personally. And… to let you know we’re expecting a child.”

Eileen froze, the kettle halfway to the table. Her eyes darted to Severus, who met her gaze unflinchingly. “I see,” she said finally, setting the kettle down with a clink.

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. Tara braced herself, unsure of what to expect.

Eileen sank into a chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “You’ve always been full of surprises, Severus,” she said quietly. There was no accusation in her tone, only a weariness that spoke of years of disappointment and resignation.

“I am not seeking your approval, Mother,” Severus said, his voice calm but firm. “I came because you deserved to hear it from me.”

Eileen’s gaze hardened as she looked at her son. When she spoke her voice was hard too and Tara heard where Snape learned that tone he used to control his classroom. “And what about her?” she asked, nodding toward Tara. “Does she know what she’s getting into?”

Severus stiffened but remained silent, his jaw tightening. Tara stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm in a subtle gesture of reassurance.

Eileen continued, her tone laced with bitterness. “Severus, you’ve always been an enigma, even to me. But I know this much: your life hasn’t been one anyone would wish for. This girl—she’s young, unscarred by the world in the ways you are. How can you expect her to understand what she’s walking into? You… you’ve lived in the shadows for too long.”

Tara met her gaze steadily. “I may be young, Mrs. Snape, but I’m not naïve. I know Severus’ past is complicated. He’s shared pieces of it with me, and I’ve seen how it’s shaped him. That doesn’t frighten me.”

Eileen scoffed, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. “Pieces, yes. But has he told you everything? Have you heard about Lily Evans—the girl he loved and lost? The one he chose over everything else, only to see her marry his greatest enemy?”

Tara glanced at Severus, who looked away, his expression unreadable. She took a steadying breath and turned back to Eileen. “I know about Lily,” she said softly. “I know she was important to him. But the past doesn’t dictate the future. Severus and I have something real, something strong enough to endure whatever challenges come our way.”

Eileen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And what about his father? Tobias Snape was a cruel, bitter man. Severus inherited that temper, whether he admits it or not. Have you considered what it would mean to tie yourself to someone with that kind of history?”

Severus flinched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Mother, that’s enough.”

“No, it’s not,” Eileen snapped. “She needs to hear this. Do you think I don’t see the strain in you, Severus? You’ve been fighting battles since you were a boy—against your father, against the world, and against yourself. And those battles don’t just disappear.”

“I’m not Tobias,” Severus said quietly, his voice strained.

“No,” Eileen agreed, her tone softening. “You’re not. But you carry him with you. And then there are the Death Eaters. Do you think I believe you simply waltzed out of that unscathed? I may not know the full truth, but I know enough to see the weight of what you’ve done. Of what you’ve been.”

Tara stepped forward, her voice clear and unwavering. “I’ve seen that weight too, Mrs. Snape. I see it every day. And I’ve chosen to stand beside him, to share it with him. Because that’s what love is. It’s not about pretending the past doesn’t exist; it’s about facing it together.”

Eileen studied her for a long moment, her sharp eyes searching for cracks in Tara’s resolve. Finally, she exhaled, her shoulders sagging. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

“Maybe a bit of both,” Tara admitted with a small smile. “But I know what I’m doing.”

Severus hesitated, then reached for Tara’s hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. “Mother,” he began, his voice quieter now, “there’s something else you should know.”

Eileen’s gaze flicked between them, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”

Tara placed a hand over her abdomen, her cheeks tinged with color but her voice steady. “We’re expecting a child.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. Eileen’s eyes widened slightly, her expression unreadable.

“A child,” she repeated, almost to herself. She turned her gaze to Severus. “And you’re prepared for this? To raise a family?”

Severus nodded, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty. “I am.”

Tara’s voice cut in, filled with quiet determination. “We are. Together.”

Eileen sat back, her lips pursed as she considered them. Finally, she sighed, the sharp edges of her demeanor softening. “I’ve lived long enough to know that life rarely goes as planned. If this is your choice, then I’ll not stand in your way.”

Severus inclined his head, his voice low. “Thank you, Mother.”

Eileen’s gaze lingered on Tara, a flicker of something almost like approval in her eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing, girl. Because once you’re in this family, there’s no turning back.”

Tara met her gaze without flinching. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The silence that followed was not entirely uncomfortable, a tentative truce forming between them. Eileen sighed. “Well, you’d best settle in. There’s tea to be had, and I suppose we have much to discuss.”

Severus glanced at Tara, who smiled reassuringly. Together, they stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter 28: Circles of Trust

Tara settled into the worn armchair in the laboratory several days later. “So,” she began, unfolding a piece of parchment, “we’ve got to finalize this guest list before much more time passes.”

Severus glanced up from a potion he was inspecting, his brow furrowing. “Are you certain this is necessary? The fewer who know, the better.”

Tara smiled wryly. “It’s a wedding, Severus. People tend to notice when someone throws one, even a small one. The rumors are already wild enough—me, pregnant by some mysterious, magically bonded lover? If we don’t clarify things to a select few, the entire castle will invent an even more ludicrous story.”

He sighed, setting the vial down with deliberate precision. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Students first, I presume?”

Tara nodded. “Tonks, Penny, and Chiara are obvious. They’re my roommates and closest friends. Liz Tuttle, too. She’s a Slytherin tha tI can more than tolerate to make sure there is at least someone from your house present.”

Severus inclined his head slightly. “Liz is acceptable. She’s not prone to reckless gossip. Anyone else?”

“Not really,” Tara said. “Diego Caplan’s friendly, but we’re not that close. Cedric’s sweet, but he’s a bit young to include.”

Severus snorted faintly. “Diggory would likely take it in stride, but his inclusion isn’t necessary. Let’s keep the circle tight.”

“What about your side?” Tara asked, her tone softening.

“The staff,” he replied without hesitation. “Minerva, Filius, Pomona—all of them. Like it or not, they are my peers, and not inviting them would cause more problems than it’s worth.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Even Hagrid?”

Severus’ lips twitched in what might have been the faintest trace of a smirk. “He would find out regardless. Better to extend an invitation than deal with his feelings of exclusion.”

Tara chuckled. “I can already hear him, ‘Blimey, Professor Snape! Never thought I’d see the day!’”

Severus groaned, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Let us hope his enthusiasm doesn’t involve the gifting of any... creatures.”

Tara laughs: her wonderful, musical laughter and it fills the room and Severus’ heart. “Anyone else?” She finally asks

“Aside from family, No,” Severus said firmly. “The fewer involved, the fewer complications arise. That includes anyone outside the castle.”

Tara nodded, jotting down the final names. “All right. Family, staff and my roommates, plus Liz. That’s manageable.” She glanced up at him, her expression thoughtful. “You’re taking this all rather well.”

“I have little choice, do I?” he replied dryly. “If it must be done, it’s best done with precision.”

Tara smiled. “We’ll make it work.”



The Hufflepuff dormitory was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening, with most students scattered across the castle or grounds. Tara closed the door to her shared room behind her, drawing the attention of her three roommates.

Nymphadora Tonks was sprawled across her bed, a book propped up in one hand, her hair currently a vibrant shade of green. Penny Haywood was at her desk, diligently writing an essay, while Chiara Lobosca sat cross-legged on the floor, reading a medical tome.

“You look serious,” Tonks said, setting her book aside. “What’s up?”

Tara hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of her bed. “I need to tell you all something, and I need you to promise it stays between us for now.”

Penny turned in her chair, her expression curious but concerned. “Of course, Tara.”

“Promise,” Chiara echoed, closing her book.

“Same here,” Tonks added, sitting up straight.

Tara took a deep breath. “As you all were present to learn alongside me several weeks ago, I’m pregnant. You also know that I’m engaged...”

“Yeah, wearing a ring right after finding out you're pregnant made that pretty clear.” Tonks snarked. Tara tossed a pillow at her with a grin. Tonks threw it back and then Tara continued, holding it to her chest for courage as she spilled her exceptionally well-kept secret.

“Well, I am prepared to tell you to whom.”

“Merlin’s beard, spill it already!” Penny said, bouncing on the edge of her seat.

“It is Severus Snape.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Tonks blurted out, “Wait, what?”

Tara smiled nervously. “Professor Snape.”

The trio stared at her, their reactions varying from shock to disbelief.

“Snape?” Tonks finally said, her voice louder than necessary. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” Tara said firmly. “We’ve been together for a while, since basically Halloween. We kept it secret for obvious reasons. But we’re getting married soon, and I wanted you to know.”

Penny recovered first, her brow furrowing. “You’re serious about this?”

“I am,” Tara said. “I know it’s unexpected, but he’s... he’s different with me. Better. And I love him.”

Chiara reached out, placing a gentle hand on Tara’s knee. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Tonks said, still sounding incredulous but managing a grin. “If anyone can handle Snape, it’s you.”

Penny nodded slowly. “It’s a lot to take in, but I trust you, Tara. You’ve never not known what you were doing in all the time we’ve known you.”

Tara felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Thank you. That means a lot. And... you’re all invited to the wedding.”

Tonks’ grin widened. “Well, that’ll be the event of the year. Do we get to hex anyone who talks rubbish about it?”

Tara laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“So, when and where? Give us the details!”

They spent the rest of the evening talking about everything the couple had already decided on and brainstorming on things they hadn’t like dress code and color themes… things Tara hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed her girlfriends for until now.

“Thank you all for not laughing me out of the room. I was more than half-afraid that would be your reaction.”

“Nah, we’ve got you girly.” Tonks said with a nudge of her elbow into Tara’s side.

“The harder one will be taking Snape seriously.” Chiara admitted. “I mean, most of us have spent half our lives afraid of that man and here you are taming and marrying him.”

“And then there will be not wondering about the big or small of the matter…” Penny said, perversely. A chorus of groans filled the small room.

“I will not disclose anything on that topic, even after we all graduate!” Tara declared.

“Good, I don’t need any details…” Tonks was adamant. After a moment, the question was clearly still in her mind because she began smacking Penny with her pillow over and over again. “Why would you say such a thing!”

Chapter 29: The Gossip Mill

By the next week, Tara began to experience the warmth of confiding in her roommates. Chiara, Penny, and Tonks had proven themselves to be a lifeline, helping her manage the overwhelming reality of her engagement, pregnancy, and the secret bond with Severus Snape. They were quick to laugh, quicker to brainstorm wedding details, and constantly on hand to buoy her spirits. Chiara’s gentle demeanor, Penny’s calm wisdom, and Tonks’ irreverent humor made Tara feel as though she could handle anything.

Snape, however, navigated a more precarious path. The staff’s reactions to their relationship revelation had been...varied.

“You mean to tell me that you, Severus Snape, of all people, have managed to charm someone into marrying you?” McGonagall teased one afternoon over tea in the staff room. Her smile was equal parts amusement and genuine approval. “I knew Tara was one of a kind when she arrived but even still she must be made of sterner stuff than I imagined to have bent your steel.”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, though a flicker of pride softened the glint in his eyes. “She sees what others cannot,” he replied curtly, refusing to rise to the bait.

Hagrid, on the other hand, was an open book. “Blimey, Severus! That’s grand news, that is. The two of yeh, settin’ an example for the young’uns. Love always finds a way, eh?”

Snape’s response had been a tight-lipped, “Indeed,” but it was clear that Hagrid’s enthusiasm, while genuine, was a potential liability. The man’s booming voice and lack of discretion were bound to create problems.



The turning point came on a particularly sunny late April afternoon. Tara was walking across the grounds, her bag slung over one shoulder, when she heard Hagrid’s unmistakable voice carrying across the lawn.

“‘Course, Pomona, I reckon it’s about time Severus settled down. And that Tara—aye, she’s a good match for him. Spotted ‘em together t’other day, and I tell yeh, he looked downright cheerful!”

“Hagrid,” Professor Sprout’s softer voice chided, “you might want to keep that to yourself. These sorts of things have a way of spreading.”

But it was too late. Nearby, Merula Snyde had been tending to her Hippogriff. The moment she caught the words “Severus” and “Tara,” her sharp ears and sharper tongue perked up.

Tara realized what had happened, Merula was smirking, her mind undoubtedly racing with ways to use the information. She tried to fling a hex at the Slytherin seventh year but Merula was off and there would be no stopping the gossip mill now.



The next morning, the Great Hall was abuzz with whispers. Tara’s pregnancy had already been the subject of speculation, but now the revelation of her relationship with Professor Snape had taken on a life of its own. The reactions varied wildly, as one might expect in a school filled with teenagers.

“It’s disgusting,” Merula declared loudly to her tablemates at breakfast, her voice carrying above the general din. “A professor and a student? How does that even happen? It’s improper. He should be sacked.”

Across the hall, Ismelda nodded vigorously, adding, “And what does she see in him? He’s… Snape! Creepy, greasy… and old.”

Their voices rose just enough for Tara to hear as she entered, a flush of anger creeping up her neck. She avoided their gazes and took her seat at the Hufflepuff table, trying to focus on her plate.

The Gryffindor table was no quieter. “So, the Lionheart is tying the knot with the dungeon bat," Lee Jordan guffawed. "Wonder if she’ll make him brew love potions in the honeymoon suite.”

Fred Wesley joined in, “Or maybe they’ll use those potions just to tolerate each other!”

George nudged him, muttering, “Leave it, mate. It’s not our business.”

But the damage was done. Their laughter stung, and Tara felt a knot tighten in her chest.

Not everyone was cruel. Tulip Karasu shrugged. “Honestly, if they’re happy, who cares? I’d say it’s none of our business.”

“Agreed,” Andre Egwu said, nodding. “Besides, Snape’s always been fair to me in class. If Tara sees something good in him, there must be something there.”

Back at the Hufflepuff table, Tonks leaned in, her hair now a vibrant magenta. “Ignore them, Tara. They’re just jealous. You’ve got the guts to live your life how you want, and they don’t.”

Chiara and Penny murmured their agreement, offering reassuring smiles. The three sat as her shield against the world. She looked up at her love, seated at the high table and felt his own discomfort through their bond. He wasn’t immune to the stress either.



That evening, Tara made her way to Snape’s office. They hadn’t met in his ‘public’ spaces to aid in the secrecy. But now, what did it matter? The tension in the air was palpable as she entered to find him pacing, his face a storm of conflicted emotions.

“The entire school knows,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “This is precisely what I wanted to avoid.”

“It’s not ideal,” Tara admitted, setting her bag down, “but we’ll handle it. Together, just like we said we would.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face her. “You shouldn’t have to endure this. The whispers, the judgment—it’s too much.”

“I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Why did I let this begin?”

“No. None of that. We’re bonded, Severus,” she said firmly, stepping closer. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. We have walked this path by being true to ourselves and that is how we will remain.”

Their bond pulsed between them, a silent reassurance that neither of them were alone in this. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing hers. “You are maddeningly stubborn,” he murmured, though there was a trace of admiration in his tone.

“It’s one of my better traits,” she quipped, a small smile playing on her lips; lips that Severus captured in a kiss. Tara pulled her man close and soaked in his energy. She needed some of his stoicism right now.



The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Students whispered as Tara passed, their gazes a mix of curiosity, judgment, and occasionally envy. Some of the younger students, particularly in Hufflepuff, treated her with newfound respect, as if her relationship with Snape elevated her status. Others, particularly in Slytherin, regarded her with suspicion.

Snape remained steadfast, his demeanor in class as stern as ever. Yet, Tara could feel the way he protected her through their bond, his presence a steady anchor. Their love, forged in secrecy, only grew stronger under the weight of scrutiny.

By the time mid-May arrived, the gossip had begun to die down, replaced by the usual end-of-term chaos. But for Tara and Snape, the trials of the previous weeks had only solidified their connection. Together, they had faced the storm and emerged unbroken, ready to face whatever came next.

Chapter 30: Seventh Year Studying

May descended on Hogwarts with the weight of unspoken dread. For the seventh-year students, the castle was charged with an almost unbearable tension. The library swarmed with frazzled students, their hushed voices blending into a tense hum, while the corridors were a gauntlet of frantic whispers and dropped parchment. Every surface became a battlefield of ink-stained notes and weary gazes.

For Tara, the chaos of N.E.W.T.s was all-consuming. Between scribbling detailed diagrams of venomous tentacula in the common room, practicing intricate wand movements in the Great Hall, and spending hours committing theoretical spellwork to memory, her days blurred into a relentless cycle of study, practice, and exhaustion.

Her professors were relentless, their lectures a barrage of intricate concepts and stern reminders that these exams would shape their futures. Even the Hufflepuff common room, usually a sanctuary of warmth and camaraderie, felt stifling under the weight of her peers’ collective anxiety.

Throughout the year, the evenings spent working on projects with Severus Snape had been Tara’s anchor, but even he seemed to have pulled away as her exams loomed closer. Though their relationship was no longer hidden, he insisted on limiting their time together.

“You’ll only take these tests once,” he had said one evening in the parlor as the chaos of studying was beginning, his tone firm but not unkind. “You must give them your undivided attention. Therefore, I want you to spend time in study groups, etc. Don’t try to sneak away to see me.”

She had tried to protest, but he had silenced her with a sharp look. “This is not a matter for debate, Tara. Your success is paramount. I already feel sometimes like I am stealing your future by loving you, don’t let me believe I took your career away from you too by being a distraction from your final weeks of schooling.”

“I hear you… I don’t like it, but I understand.” She grasped his hand and looked into his eyes as she promised, “I will get the best scores I can, just to prove to you that are not dragging me down but have elevated me in every way.”

“I look forward to it. Now, go. I’m sure someone studying in the library or your common room is looking for a partner.”

And thus, she’d left the restricted laboratory and their hidden parlor behind to spend the next two weeks preparing for the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.

At first it was fun to spend so much time with her peers. There were so many times that people acknowledged how little they had gotten to know her before this due to her habit of spending evenings alone and away from them. In that respect, Tara found herself immensely grateful for Severus’ decision.

On the other hand, the ache of missing him grew sharper with every passing day. They still shared fleeting moments—Tara would show up early to converse with him in the dungeons before Potions, and linger until the last moment at the end of class. They’d have soft exchanges of words after meals when they walked together as far as they could but he never allowed their walks to extend beyond the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room even though their familiar places were further and deeper into the lower levels.

It was maddening to want him so desperately and feel his walls up with the reason being it was for her own benefit. By Merlin, will you be self-ish just once and tell me you require my attention tonight! She lamented in those moments.

It was a Friday evening when Tara finally broke. She had spent the entire day studying in the library, her Herbology notes had become a whirlwind of Latin names and intricate diagrams. By the time she trudged to the Great Hall for dinner, her head ached and her hands trembled from the strain of hours spent writing.

She caught sight of Severus at the staff table, his dark eyes meeting hers briefly before he returned to his conversation with Professor Flitwick. He wasn’t handsome in the way that would appeal to everyone but he was handsome and wonderful to her and she felt it in that moment as if feeling it for the first time. Something inside her snapped then. She needed him—needed to feel his presence, his calm, his steady reassurance. She needed to stop feeling this emptiness in her soul where his frequent proximity used to be.

After dinner, she waited for him to come down from the head table and walk with her. When he approached and took her hand, his black robes billowing behind him like he had his own windstorm to support them, she laid out just how she felt.

“This isn’t working,” she said, her voice trembling but determined.

He raised a brow. “What isn’t working?”

“You. Me. Us. I can’t do this—seeing you for five minutes here then burying myself in books.. Even the concentrated Clarity Sage you gave me at the beginning of the year can’t help me learn when all I’m doing is yearning for more of you.”

He sighed, his expression softening. “Tara, you know why I’ve insisted on this distance. Your exams—”

“Are driving me mad!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I’m trying, Severus. Merlin knows I am. But it’s like I’m drowning in all of this without the one thing that keeps me afloat—us.”

He changed the subject on her, “If I heard things correctly earlier, your entire year is doing a mock oral exam tonight. It doesn’t sound like something you should miss…”

Tara let out a pained groan of frustration, feeling unheard. She walked away from him without another word.

Her frustration simmered throughout the massive study game and continued as she collapsed onto her bed, but the sight of a familiar scrap of parchment beneath her pillow caught her eye. She snatched it up, her heart racing as she recognized his tight scrawl.

"You’ve made your point. My quarters. Eight AM. Come hungry."



Tara arrived precisely at eight the next morning, her heart racing faster than she anticipated. They’d never met in his quarters before. She had passed the door countless times but had never stepped inside. As she raised her hand to knock, the door opened before her knuckles met the wood.

The familiar scent of firewood and aged books greeted her, wrapping around her like an old friend. Before she could say a word, Severus pulled her into his arms, holding her with a quiet ferocity that made her chest tighten. The tension of the past weeks dissolved in his embrace, and she clung to him, tears spilling down her cheeks. Here, in his arms, the world felt whole again.

He rested his chin lightly on her head, murmuring, “You’re home now.”

When she entered, her curiosity blossomed. The room was a simple yet inviting space divided into two distinct areas. One side held a large, canopied bed with dark green drapes, and the other housed a cozy fireplace flanked by two high-backed chairs. A small dining table near the hearth was elegantly set with plates heaped full of her favorite breakfast foods.

“Oh, Severus…” she whispered, her voice catching. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied smoothly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s my pleasure to see you smile, my bride.”

“It’s perfect. But I don’t know how much I’ll be able to enjoy it… at least not yet.” She held her stomach, calling Severus’ gaze. “I’ve been so caught up in everything—studying, exams, life—that I started to forget about…” She trailed off, her hand moving lower over her belly to their yet unnamed daughter. “But she reminded me that she is coming whether I’m paying attention or not last night. Twice, in fact.”

Severus arched an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to her hand. “Twice?”

“I woke up to nausea—brief but intense. It passed quickly, but it felt like she was saying, ‘Don’t forget me, Mama.’”

A rare tenderness softened Severus’s expression. He placed his hand gently over hers, his long fingers splayed across her growing belly. His energy seemed to flow through her, a silent reassurance that reached both mother and child.

“She’ll never be forgotten,” he said quietly. “Not by you or by me. If you’re not hungry, we can otherwise occupy ourselves.”

“That would be good. Give me just a bit and hopefully this round will pass too.”

He guided her to the edge of the bed instead of the table and he simply held her close to his side until she declared herself properly famished. They sat down to eat afterwards, the warmth of the fireplace casting a golden glow over the intimate scene.

Their conversation over breakfast unfolded naturally, a mix of laughter and gentle teasing. He didn’t ask about her exams or her studies; instead, he focused on anything else—what she had read lately, if she’d taken any walks in the gardens, and what foods she craved most these days. His deep voice, steady and unhurried, wove through the room like a soothing balm, unraveling the knots of tension in her chest.

When her teacup was empty, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing his. “This,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is what I needed.”

His free hand covered hers, his touch warm and grounding. “And starting Monday, you’ll tackle Potions with the same brilliance you’ve always shown. The rest will follow until, before you know it, we're getting married.”

A genuine smile spread across her face, unburdened and bright. For the first time in weeks, she felt the weight of her worries lift, replaced by the quiet strength of his belief in her.

The day unfolded like a cherished dream. They spent hours by the fire, her head resting on his shoulder as they shared stories and long spans of comfortable silence. Later, in the sanctuary of his bed, they rediscovered each other with a passion that melted the remnants of stress and exhaustion from her bones, invigorating her with excitement for married life.

As the evening painted the sky in hues of orange and violet, Severus spoke softly, his voice a rich baritone in the fading light. “I missed you too. Thank you for saying something. I feared I was the only one aching like this.”

She turned to him, her blue eyes shining with sincerity. “You’re not alone. I’ll always tell you what I need, Severus, because I trust we’ll give everything to one another. Always.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile—a smile he reserved for her alone. “I don’t deserve you, Tara Lionheart.”

She leaned closer, her hand finding his cheek. “And yet, here we are. Deserving or not, we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.”

Chapter 31: N.E.W.T.s

Monday morning arrived, bringing with it golden sunlight streaming through the windows and an unmistakable buzz of nervous energy. June was waxing upon Hogwarts, and the castle brimmed with the tension of fifth and seventh years beginning their grueling examination gauntlet. Tara stood in the Hufflepuff common room, smoothing her robes and tying her tie with precision. Her face was calm, but her fingers betrayed her, fidgeting with the edges of her sleeves. She inhaled deeply, reciting mnemonics under her breath. I’m ready. I have to be.

Her first test was Potions.

The dungeons were cool and hushed as Tara entered the familiar classroom. The faint scent of aged ingredients and brewed elixirs lingered in the air, grounding her. She settled into her seat, parchment and quill at the ready. The exam began, and she was immediately consumed by its demands.

Questions about Golpatt’s Laws and the differences between asphodel and aconite flowed into detailed instructions for brewing Veritaserum. She meticulously outlined how Felix Felicis worked with the body’s instincts, her quill moving with deliberate precision. Her mind barely paused as she transitioned to the practical exam.

The Draught of Living Death. Not her favorite potion, but one she’d mastered through hours of practice—and Severus’s relentless guidance. Crushing Sopophorous beans with the flat side of her dagger, she watched the juice spill more freely, just as he’d taught her. The steady rhythm of stirring counterclockwise calmed her racing heart. When she finally stepped back, her potion shimmered with a pale, ethereal glow.

“Well done,” the examiner said with a curt nod, and Tara’s chest swelled with quiet pride.



Tuesday was Charms.

The written exam demanded she dissect the theory behind the Protean Charm, analyze its use in magical communication, and explain why the Drought Charm and Aguamenti weren’t inverses. By the time she reached the limitations of the Reductor Curse, her head buzzed with theory. Yet her confidence carried her forward.

The practical portion tested her finesse. Encasing her head in the protective bubble of a Bubble-Head Charm came easily, as did repelling liquids and thestral dung with the Impervius Charm. Her final challenge—a set of Muggle playing cards linked with a Protean Charm—was more intricate. When the examiner altered the ace of spades to display a horseshoe and the other cards followed seamlessly, relief flooded her. She had done it.

The common room buzzed with celebratory energy that evening, as Charms had been the broadest exam. Tara allowed herself a moment to revel in the shared relief before retreating to prepare for what lay ahead.



Wednesday was relentless: Herbology in the morning, Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon.

Herbology’s written portion focused on the care of Venomous Tentacula and Snargaluff pods, alongside the properties of mandrakes and moly. The practical tested her dexterity and precision. Wrestling a Snargaluff pod free from its writhing vines had her dodging and weaving, sweat trickling down her neck. Harvesting dittany leaves without damaging their restorative properties required careful attention. When nausea struck mid-task, Tara paused behind a Flutterby bush to retch but returned to her work without hesitation.

The examiners nodded in approval at her bottled dittany leaves and pristine Snargaluff seeds.

After a brief lunch, Defense Against the Dark Arts commenced. The written portion challenged her with ethical considerations of jinxes in defensive magic and the limitations of concealment charms.

The practical exam kept her on her toes. A Langlock spell silenced a conjured opponent, followed swiftly by a Shield Charm to deflect a simulated curse. When a smoky, menacing figure advanced, she shattered it with a powerful Bombarda Maxima. Her final task, casting an Imperturbable Charm over a door, required precision. When the examiner tested it, the charm held firm, earning another nod.

By the time she returned to her dorm that evening, exhaustion warred with satisfaction.



Thursday brought a reprieve.

She spent the day in an empty classroom with friends, transfiguring objects and practicing spells. That evening, Severus joined her for a walk around the grounds. The familiar cadence of his voice brought her back to their conversation months ago when she’d confessed her struggles with Transfiguration.

“You’ve come a long way,” he said simply, his hand brushing hers. She smiled, thinking of the work she’d put in to understand the subject—and how much his encouragement had meant.



Friday was Transfiguration, the last hurdle.

The written portion delved into Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration and the exceptions to its principles. Tara wrote carefully, detailing the risks of Human and Trans-Species Transfiguration.

In the practical exam, she cast Crinus Muto on a classmate, transforming their hair into a cascade of vibrant green curls. The final task—a tortoise into a brass trumpet—tested her finesse. Though the trumpet retained faintly reptilian markings, it produced clear, sharp notes, earning her a nod from the examiner.



With her exams complete, Tara felt the weight she’d carried for weeks finally begin to lift. Many of her peers still faced tests in the coming days, but for her, the ordeal was over. All that remained was to wait for graduation and sail across the Black Lake to the Hogwarts Express.

She had planned to skip the train ride—her wedding being a week away on the school grounds—but she and Severus had decided otherwise. Their ceremony preparations required a trip to Diagon Alley, and the train ride to London offered a rare opportunity to experience one of the great rituals of attending Hogwarts.

Chapter 32: End of Term Festivities

The Great Hall shimmered with a celebratory glow, its enchanted ceiling a perfect mirror of the starlit night outside. House banners swayed gently, and the tables were laden with an extravagant feast. Excitement mingled with nostalgia as students buzzed about summer plans, the chatter growing louder as the feast progressed.

Tara Lionheart sat among her Hufflepuff friends, her plate mostly untouched. Her gaze wandered across the hall to the head table, where Severus sat, his expression unreadable as usual. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and though his face remained impassive, there was a softening in his gaze that only she could recognize.

When Dumbledore rose, the hall fell silent, his presence commanding but kind.

"Another year concludes, full of growth, triumph, and camaraderie. To our seventh-years, you are stepping into the wider world as capable witches and wizards, carrying with you the lessons learned here. Remember, wherever life takes you, Hogwarts will always be your home."

A cheer erupted, and the seventh-years were the loudest of all. Tara joined in, though her heart felt heavy with the weight of goodbyes she didn’t entirely share. Her true goodbye had come the day she left Ilvermorny. Now, this felt like the cusp of a new beginning, not an ending.

As the feast dissolved into laughter and conversations, Tara looked once more at Severus, feeling the familiar tug of shared understanding within their bond.



The Black Lake gleamed under the golden morning sun, its surface rippling with a gentle breeze. Seventh-years stood in their formal robes, their house crests bright against the dark fabric. Those who had gathered to watch the ceremony were filling the air with anticipation.

Tara stood with her Hufflepuff classmates, the warmth of the moment contrasting the bittersweet farewells around her. When Professor McGonagall began calling names, her authoritative voice carried over the gathering.

"Tara Lionheart."

She walked forward, her head held high. Applause filled the air as she accepted her diploma, her fingers tightening briefly around the parchment. This was her moment, a culmination of not just seven years of wizarding education but a journey that had begun far away in another world.

As the ceremony concluded, the seventh-years threw their hats into the air, cheers and laughter blending with the rustle of robes and the splash of the lake. Tara lingered at the water’s edge, her reflection framed by the towering castle she had come to call home.



The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily along, its familiar rhythm a constant backdrop to the chatter and laughter echoing through the corridors. In a quiet compartment near the back, Tara and Severus sat side by side, the atmosphere inside far removed from the bustling farewells happening throughout the train.

Tara leaned back against the cushioned seat, her gaze following the rolling countryside. "It’s strange," she said after a moment. "Everyone else seems so caught up in saying goodbye, but for me, it feels like a giant hello. As of today, I am no longer your student in any way. I am free to simply be yours."

Severus glanced at her, his expression softening. "Beginnings and endings often overlap more than we realize."

She turned to him, curiosity lighting her features. "What about you? The last time you rode this train away from Hogwarts…what did it feel like for you?"

He was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes distant. "The last time I left Hogwarts as a student, it felt…hollow. A sense of finality existed in it, but not one I welcomed. My past was too heavy, my future uncertain." His gaze met hers, and his tone softened. "This feels so much better than that did. There’s purpose and direction in me not. As well as someone worth sharing it with."

Tara smiled, her fingers brushing against his. "It’s funny, isn’t it? How the same train can mean something completely different depending on the journey ahead."

He nodded. "Indeed."

The train rattled on, and as they sat together, the countryside unfurling like a tapestry outside, the noise of goodbyes seemed distant, irrelevant. They were already looking forward, their path together as clear as the tracks beneath them.

Chapter 33: Diagon Alley

The whistle of the Hogwarts Express echoed through King's Cross Station as Tara and Severus disembarked, stepping into the bustling world beyond Platform 9¾. Tara’s senses were alight, the air charged with the mingled magic of excited goodbyes and fresh beginnings. The cacophony of voices, the flash of robes, and the clatter of trunks filled the space.

Their journey to Diagon Alley was seamless, the magical thoroughfare alive with its usual vibrancy. Shops displayed glittering wares, and witches and wizards darted about with purpose. Tara felt a rush of excitement as they approached Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, the doorway adorned with twinkling charms that beckoned them inside.

Madam Malkin greeted them with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Ah, Miss Lionheart, Professor Snape! Come, come! I’ve been preparing for your visit.” She ushered them to a fitting area where bolts of fabric shimmered like liquid light.

Tara stood on the pedestal as the skilled witch began measuring and discussing designs. “I’ll have the options ready for a fitting tomorrow morning,” Madam Malkin declared, her wand weaving through the air to note Tara’s dimensions.

Severus stood to the side, watching with quiet approval. When the details were finalized, Madam Malkin dismissed them with a cheerful, “See you tomorrow, my dears!”

They spent the evening at The Leaky Cauldron, sharing a cozy meal before retiring to their room. Tara lay beside Severus, her thoughts filled with anticipation for the coming days.

The next morning, Tara and Severus returned to Madam Malkin’s shop. They were greeted by the sight of several gowns laid out on a velvet-draped table, each a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Madam Malkin beamed at them, her hands clasped together in delight.

“Here we are, my dears! Several options for you to consider,” she said, gesturing to the array of silks and satins. “Each one crafted with the utmost care and precision, designed to accentuate your beauty and grace.”

Tara approached the display, her fingertips brushing over the intricate embroidery and delicate lace. Her eyes were drawn to an ivory silk gown with floral patterns embroidered along the hem and bodice. As she lifted it, the subtle mother-of-pearl sheen in the fabric caught the light. It shimmered in hues of soft pinks and golds, stirring a flood of memories.

“This one,” Tara said, her voice tinged with wonder as she turned the gown toward Severus. “It feels right—like it was made just for me. And look at the sheen—it reminds me of brewing Amortentia in your class. The colors swirling, catching the light just like this fabric. It’s funny, really. There will be people who swear you used the potion on me to win my heart.” She laughed, the sound warm and unselfconscious.

Severus’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he stepped closer to examine the gown. “How amusing that the mere sight of the fabric would invoke such memories. But you’re quite right. It does bear a resemblance to that particular brew.” He reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he took hold of the dress, his expression softening. “The choice is poetic, in a way. If such rumors surface, let them. I prefer to think it serves as a quiet acknowledgment of our unconventional beginning.”

He studied the gown, turning it slightly to catch the shimmer again. “It suits you perfectly, Tara—the color, the cut, the very essence of it. You’ll be breathtaking, a vision of loveliness.”

Tara’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, but her smile remained as she turned to Madam Malkin. “This is the one. If you’ll refine it for me, we’ll pick it up tomorrow morning before we return to Hogwarts.”

Madam Malkin clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, what a joy to hear! I shall work my magic overnight, ensuring it fits you like a glove and captures the essence of your radiant spirit.” She bustled off, leaving the couple to themselves.

As the door to the workroom closed, Tara turned to Severus, her hand finding his. “Do you really think I’ll be a vision of loveliness?”

“I think you already are,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “The gown will merely be a frame for the masterpiece.”

Tara laughed softly, leaning against him. “You know, for someone who claims to be a master of subtlety, you’re rather good at sweeping declarations.”

“I save them for the moments they are deserved,” he said, his tone as smooth as velvet.

With the gown chosen, they ventured further into Diagon Alley. Tara’s eyes lit up as they passed Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. “Ice cream?” she suggested with a grin.

Severus raised a brow but relented. “Very well. Lead on, my dear.”

Inside, the parlor was a whirl of color and scent. Tara ordered cups of Gulkand and Cherry Sherbet, along with two Butterbeers. Settling into a booth, she rested her head on Severus’s shoulder.

They caught the startled stares of several former Hogwarts students. Tara waved cheekily at one, who flushed and scurried away. She laughed, the sound light and carefree.

“Their expressions are priceless,” Severus remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I doubt they ever imagined me here with a woman of any ilk on my arm let alone one so lovely.”

“I’d tell you to stop but I also love hearing you gush about me.”

Their treats arrived, and Tara eagerly dug in, her delight infectious. Severus sampled the Gulkand, nodding his approval. “A sophisticated choice,” he said, his tone warm.

Tara leaned against him once more, her hand resting on her belly. “This is perfect,” she said softly. “A moment just for us.”

Severus placed his hand over hers, his gaze tender. “Indeed, it is. And it’s only the beginning, my love.”

The couple spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for their upcoming life together. They visited a jeweler in Diagon Alley, combing through countless displays of wedding rings. Severus was drawn to simpler designs, while Tara admired those with delicate engravings. In the end, they settled on a pair of matching bands: sleek, understated platinum rings adorned with a single, subtle rune etched into the inside of each band—a protective charm that Severus insisted upon given how magically entwined they are.

Next, they made their way to Gringotts, where Severus navigated the labyrinthine bureaucracy with his characteristic precision. By the time they emerged from the gleaming marble doors, his vault had officially become their joint vault. Tara marveled at the trust this act represented, the weight of the key in her hand a tangible reminder of their partnership.

As evening fell, they returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom greeted them with a knowing smile and ushered them to a cozy table near the fire. Dinner was a simple but hearty affair, the room alive with the quiet buzz of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses.

Halfway through their meal, Tara noticed a youthful pair lingering near the bar, casting glances their way. She nudged Severus gently, inclining her head toward them.

“They’ve been staring for a while,” she murmured, her voice low. “I think they recognize you.”

Severus turned his head just enough to take them in—a blonde witch with a determined air and a nervous young man with unruly hair. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

The witch seemed to take his glance as an invitation. Whispering something to her companion, she squared her shoulders and approached, the young man following a step behind.

“Professor Snape?” she began, her voice steady but tinged with nervousness. “I hope we’re not intruding, but we just wanted to say hello. I’m Celeste Merriweather, and this is Matthew Hodge. We were in your N.E.W.T. Potions class three years ago.”

Severus inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Merriweather. Hodge. I recall. Three years is insufficient time to forget seven years of... instruction.”

Celeste’s smile widened, while Matthew chuckled nervously.

“We just wanted to thank you,” Matthew said. “Your lessons were... challenging, but they prepared us better than we realized. I’m an apothecary now, and Celeste is studying magical chemistry.”

Tara, sensing their earnestness, smiled warmly. “It sounds like you’ve both found something you love. That’s wonderful.”

Celeste hesitated, then, with a glance at Severus, turned to Tara. “There’s also a rumor going around that you’ve found someone special, Professor Snape. We... were curious to meet her.”

Tara blinked, then laughed softly, extending her hand to the pair. “I’m Tara Lionheart. Soon to be Mrs. Severus Snape.”

Celeste and Matthew shook her hand, their nervousness giving way to genuine enthusiasm.

“You must be very brave,” Matthew said, half-joking, earning a soft chuckle from Tara and a raised eyebrow from Severus.

For a moment, Severus simply observed the interaction, his gaze inscrutable. Then, in a quieter voice than usual, he said, “She is. I trust you will both excel in your endeavors.”

The pair beamed at the unexpected encouragement and lingered a few moments longer, sharing details about their work and asking Tara about her interests. When they returned to their table, the warmth of the encounter lingered like the glow of the fire.

Tara turned to Severus, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “I think you impressed them.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “As their professor, leaving an impression was always my intent.”

“True, but I think they were genuinely grateful,” Tara replied, her tone light.

“Or simply curious to meet the woman who would willingly tether herself to me.”

Tara laughed, slipping her hand into his under the table. His grip was firm, steady. “That is true but it doesn’t negate the first statement.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured after a pause, his tone contemplative.

Chapter 34: Back to Hogwarts

The next morning, Tara woke to the gentle knock of a house-elf at their door, delivering her wedding dress carefully packaged for travel. The neatly tied parcel shimmered faintly in the soft morning light streaming through the window, a mark that it had been sealed by its maker for her protection. Tara smiled, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and anticipation. She set the package carefully aside, glancing at Severus as he stirred in the large bed, his dark hair tousled and his expression relaxed in sleep.

After a leisurely breakfast at the inn, they apparated just outside of Hogsmeade on the path toward the castle. The moment they arrived, Tara felt the brisk, pine-scented air invigorate her senses. A thin veil of mist still clung to the edges of the village, blurring the thatched rooftops in the distance despite being June. Hand in hand, they set off down the path toward Hogwarts, their footsteps crunching softly on the frost-kissed ground.

“This walk always feels like a storybook,” Tara mused, glancing at Severus. “Everything about it is so... magical.”

Severus raised a brow, his lips curving slightly in a rare, wry smile. “It’s certainly picturesque. Though I can’t say the trek held much charm when students were shrieking about the cold or lagging behind.”

Tara laughed, nudging him lightly. “Come on, even you must have found it a little enchanting when you were younger.”

“Let’s just say my enchantment was reserved for the library,” he replied, though his tone softened as his gaze flicked to her.

As the gates of Hogwarts came into view, they noticed a trio of familiar figures waiting near the entrance. Tonks, her now disturbingly yellow hair catching the weak sunlight, waved exuberantly the moment she saw them. Beside her, Penny Haywood exuded her usual warmth, her scarf tucked neatly around her neck, while Chiara Lobosca stood with her arms crossed, her posture elegant yet relaxed, her sharp eyes sparkling with mischief.

“We’ve been watching out for you for forever!” Tonks called, jogging toward them with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Do you two know how hard it is to stand still when you’re this excited?”

“You’re just incapable of standing still,” Penny quipped, her grin wide as she followed Tonks.

“About time, Tara!” Chiara added, her teasing voice laced with mock exasperation. “Let’s see the dress! Don’t make us wait another second!”

Tara laughed as they reached her, their infectious energy impossible to resist. “I will make you wait until we are inside at the very least.”

“G’mornin’ Professor Snape,” Tonks greeted with a cheeky salute, her grin mischievous. “Looking as intimidating as ever.”

“Tonks,” Severus replied, his tone dry but not entirely unkind. “I see you’ve managed to retain your penchant for... exuberance.”

Chiara stepped forward, her expression one of mock seriousness. “Sir, I hope you’re ready for the wedding. We’ve already decided that we’re borrowing Tara until then. You can’t object; it’s non-negotiable she must be gaggle by her ladies before she’s allowed to walk down the aisle.”

“Consider it a pre-wedding decree,” Penny added, her eyes twinkling as she straightened Tara’s scarf.

“Non-negotiable?” Severus echoed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he crossed his arms. “I wasn’t aware my say in this matter was irrelevant.”

“Oh, completely irrelevant,” Tonks said breezily, looping her arm through Tara’s and tugging her gently toward the gates. “She’s ours now. Don’t worry, we’ll return her just in time to say ‘I do.’”

Tara turned back to Severus, her laughter bubbling up at his faintly exasperated expression. “They’re not wrong,” she said with a grin, standing on tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Try not to lose yourself in the chaos,” Severus muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“No promises!” Tara called, already being swept away by the trio, their chatter echoing across the grounds.

Tonks glanced back with a playful smirk. “Don’t worry, Professor! We’ll make sure she’s stunning for you. Just be ready to pick your jaw up off the floor at the altar!”

Severus didn’t respond, but his faint smirk lingered as he watched them disappear through the gates, their laughter trailing behind them.



In the Hufflepuff dormitory later that morning, the mood was celebratory and bustling. The room was filled with a soft golden light, and the scent of fresh flowers wafted in through the open window. Tara stood before the full-length mirror in her wedding dress, the delicate mother-of-pearl sheen catching the light and making her glow.

“Tara, you look incredible,” Chiara said, her voice soft with awe.

“Like something out of a nursery tale,” Penny added, adjusting the hem of the dress.

Tonks, perched on the edge of Tara’s bed, tilted her head as she studied Tara. “All right, hair time. Let’s see what works best with this masterpiece.”

With practiced ease, they began experimenting with different styles. Penny’s hands wove intricate braids that framed Tara’s face, while Chiara pinned soft curls back with delicate silver clips. Tonks, ever the creative one, tried everything from sleek elegance to playful twists. Each style met with varying opinions from the group.

As they worked, Tara couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. Her friends’ care and enthusiasm enveloped her like a warm embrace, and she couldn’t have imagined a better way to prepare for the biggest day of her life.

“What do you think?” Tonks asked, holding up a small hand mirror to show Tara the latest style—an elegant updo with a few loose curls framing her face.

Tara turned her head slightly, studying her reflection. The look was beautiful, understated yet timeless. “I love it,” she said softly, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

“Good, because you’re going to knock everyone’s socks off,” Tonks declared.

Chiara gave her a teasing smile. “Including a certain potions professor.”

The room erupted in giggles, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. It was just them, their laughter, and the quiet joy of friends making memories together.

Chapter 35: Getting to the Aisle

The gazebo stood like a shimmering jewel at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, draped with magical garlands that glowed softly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Floating candles hovered, their gentle light pooling beneath the shaded boughs, lending an air of intimacy to the gathering. Rows of chairs stretched further than Severus remembered approving, a sign of how quickly word of the event had spread.

Severus adjusted his dark robes for the third time in as many minutes, his expression neutral save for the faint tension in his jaw. He turned sharply at the sound of footsteps.

“Ah, Severus,” Minerva McGonagall greeted, her lips quirking into an uncharacteristically broad smile. “You’ve outdone yourself. Half the magical world seems to think this is the event of the decade.”

“Half of them were not invited,” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as more unfamiliar faces filed in.

“Consider it a compliment,” she said lightly, her tone not entirely teasing. “Though if you need anyone hexed away, I’m happy to oblige. I haven’t stretched those muscles in years”

Before Severus could reply, Flitwick scurried over, a flurry of bustling energy as he directed several floating banners into place. “Everything is looking perfect, Severus! Though I dare say you’ll need a few more rows of chairs at this rate.”

Severus grunted noncommittally, his eyes narrowing further as Hagrid lumbered into view, a massive bouquet of magical flowers in his arms. The blossoms burst into tiny butterflies that flitted about before reforming into petals, the cycle repeating endlessly.

“Didn’t want Tara to miss out on somethin’ special, Professor,” Hagrid said, his broad grin bright against his wiry beard.

Severus only nodded, the words of gratitude catching somewhere behind his throat.

Then came the breaking point. Accompanied by none other than Albus Dumbledore, a cluster of uninvited guests made their way toward the gazebo. Among them were the ever-dignified Lucius Malfoy, his wife Narcissa, and their young son Draco. Behind them trailed several prominent Ministry figures, including Cornelius Fudge.

Minerva leaned closer to Severus. “Let them stay,” she murmured. “If anything, it’s a testament to the respect you’ve earned.”

Before he could voice any irritation, Horace Slughorn, his own former potions professor and head of house greeted Severus. “Congratulations, Professor,” he said earnestly. “I look forward to meeting the girl that has enchanted you!”

For a moment, Severus’s tension eased. He nodded curtly, his lips twitching toward something that might have been mistaken for a smile.



The ladies’ side of the prefect bathroom buzzed with activity. The sound of laughter mingled with the soft rustle of fabric and the clinking of hairpins. Tara stood at the center of it all. Her wedding dress draped across a mannequin nearby, while Tonks, Penny, and Chiara flitted around her like restless fairies.

Tara’s mother Leticia, elegant in her poise, sat perched on the edge of a cushioned stool, watching the scene with a bemused smile. At the quieter edge of the room, Eileen Snape sat with her hands folded over her lap. Her reserved demeanor softened slightly as she reached into a small, worn pouch she’d brought with her and withdrew a delicate, intricately carved hair comb.

“This belonged to my mother,” Eileen said, her voice steady but tinged with a rare warmth. “It’s enchanted to bring good fortune to its wearer.” She rose, holding it out with both hands, her gaze steady on Tara.

Tara took the comb reverently, her fingers brushing against its cool surface. The intricate design shimmered faintly under the enchanted bathroom lights, a hint of magic woven into its metal. “Thank you,” Tara murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll cherish it.”

Eileen’s lips twitched into what might have been a smile. “It’s only fitting that it stays in the family.”

Tonks, unable to contain herself, clapped her hands. “Alright, that’s something old sorted! What’s next?” She rummaged through the bag she’d brought down for a small box, triumphantly pulling out a glittering pair of floral earrings. “Something new,” she said, holding them. The earrings caught the light, scattering sparkles across the room. “Perfect. You’ll outshine the stars tonight.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Her mother stepped forward, a small lace handkerchief in hand. It was delicately embroidered with a floral pattern, its edges slightly frayed with age. “Something borrowed,” she said, placing it gently into Tara’s palm. “I carried this at my own wedding.”

Tara clutched the handkerchief near her chest. “I’ll carry it with me and think of you. I love you Mum.”

Chiara, grinning, stepped forward last. “And now, something blue.” She held up a dainty bracelet with tiny charms dangling from it. Each charm was a miniature representation of the four women who’d been roommates this year: a wolf for Chiara, a sparkling star for Tonks, a quill for Penny, and a tiny book for Tara.

Sliding the bracelet onto Tara’s wrist, Chiara said, “Now you’ll always have us with you.”

Tara’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at her friends. “You’ve all given me so much more than good luck,” she said softly. “I couldn’t have asked for better people to share this moment with.”

Tonks, ever the one to lighten the mood, raised a glass of elderflower wine. “To Tara! And to a marriage that’s anything but dull!”

“Here here!” Penny called. Laughter erupted as glasses clinked, the sound filling the room like a melody of shared joy. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the bond between them tangible and bright.

Fully dressed, her heart pounding with anticipation, Tara stood before the full-length mirror. Her gown shimmered with a soft glow, and her hair, pinned with the comb, fell in elegant waves. Her earrings caught every speck of light and divided it into hundreds of rainbows. Her friends stepped back, their faces glowing with pride and awe.

“It’s time my girl.” Tara’s father called from the hall.

“I’m ready, Dah!” She called and the bridal party assembled to head out to the ceremony

On the other side of the grounds, Severus adjusted his robes one last time. Dumbledore appeared at his side, the familiar twinkle in his eye as he gestured toward the gazebo steps.

“Time to take your place, Severus,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically solemn.

From the distance there came the faint strains of music, the notes weaving through an obscuring mist that concealed the approaching bridal party as they crossed the ground from the castle down to the gazebo. Severus’s breathing quickened as they grew closer, a collection of feet visible despite the spell around them. He could see the embroidery of Tara’s gown but better than that he felt her growing proximity in the bond.

Beside him, Dumbledore murmured, his voice low and steady, “Ready or not, Severus, the rest of your life begins now.”

“I’m ready.” He was never more certain of anything than he was of that truth.

Chapter 36: Meet the Snapes

The crowd gathered near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the air thick with enchantment and anticipation. A low mist curled through the trees, obscuring the path leading to the gazebo. The soft glow of floating candles cast warm light across the scene, their flickering reflections dancing in the polished wood of the gazebo steps.

Out of the mist, the first figure emerged: Eileen Snape. Her movements were deliberate, her expression calm but proud. She wore deep emerald robes trimmed with silver, her silver hair pinned in an elegant knot. The crowd murmured as she took her place, her presence dignified and commanding.

A moment later, Leticia and Ozymandius Lionheart appeared, their bearing regal. Leticia’s gown of midnight blue shimmered faintly, and Ozymandius stood tall beside her, his dark cloak edged with gold. Together, they were a striking pair, embodying the gravitas of a proud family. They moved with quiet grace, joining Eileen as the mist thickened once more.

Then the air shifted, and the mist began to lift, revealing the figure everyone had been waiting for.

Tara stepped forward, a vision in her gown. The fabric shimmered like the surface of a pearl, an ethereal sheen accentuating the delicate floral embroidery cascading down the corseted bodice and along the hem of the voluminous skirt. Her train, nearly as grand as the gown itself, flowed behind her like a river of light, carried by her friends: Tonks in the center, Penny on the left, and Chiara on the right. Each looked radiant in their coordinating gowns, their expressions a blend of pride and joy.

A magical veil concealed Tara’s face, shimmering faintly with runes that glowed and dimmed in a soft rhythm. The crowd gasped, captivated by the sight, as Severus took an involuntary step forward, his composure briefly slipping.

As Tara approached, her father offered her arm to Severus. The two men exchanged a silent, meaningful nod before Severus turned to Tara. His hand was steady as he reached for the veil, his wand subtly flicking to dissolve the enchantment. The veil lifted like morning fog, revealing Tara’s radiant face, her eyes bright with emotion.

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, followed by a moment of hushed silence as Severus extended his arm. Tara took it, her hand fitting perfectly in his, and together they ascended the steps of the gazebo.

Dumbledore stood waiting, his robes a cascade of silver and gold, his presence commanding yet warm. His eyes twinkled with delight as he welcomed them with a few words before gesturing for the vows to begin.

As Severus and Tara faced each other, the world seemed to fall away. The light of the floating candles framed them in a soft glow, their surroundings melting into a quiet, timeless moment. The vows they spoke were solemn, deeply personal, and brimming with the promise of love and partnership.

When they finished, Dumbledore raised his arms, his voice resonating with magic and warmth. “By the bond of your words and the strength of your hearts, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

A soft hum of magic filled the air as the crowd erupted in applause. Severus bent his head, and their first kiss as husband and wife sealed the moment, their connection undeniable and unbreakable.



The Great Hall had been transformed into an enchanting reception space. Floating candles hovered low, bathing the room in a warm glow. The long house tables had been replaced by smaller, round ones adorned with floral centerpieces that matched the subtle elegance of Tara’s gown. The enchanted ceiling mirrored a starry night sky, casting a sense of intimacy over the celebration. Soft music played, provided by a live wizarding quartet whose instruments occasionally floated above their heads.

Severus and Tara entered the hall to a round of applause, their joined hands a quiet but clear testament to their partnership. Professors, Hogwarts staff, family, and friends surrounded them, their faces alight with joy.

Minerva McGonagall was one of the first to approach, her usual stern expression softened. “Congratulations to you both. A fine match,” she said, raising her glass.

Hagrid’s booming laugh was next to fill the air as he approached with a barrel of mead under one arm. “Got this brewed special fer the occasion!” he declared. “Congratulations, you two. Yer a right pair.”

Tara laughed, squeezing Hagrid’s arm. “Thank you, Hagrid. I can’t wait to try it.”

Nearby, Sybill Trelawney, balancing a delicate glass of sherry, fluttered over with her characteristic air of mystery. “I see great things in your future,” she said, her voice dreamy. “Though I must warn you, the first few months will be…trying.”

“They always are,” Severus replied dryly, earning a ripple of laughter from those close enough to hear.

Bartemius Crouch Sr. approached with a formal nod. “A most respectable union,” he said. “The Ministry extends its congratulations.”

Behind him, Amelia Bones offered a warmer smile. “It’s wonderful to see love celebrated so beautifully. Congratulations to you both.”

Lucius Malfoy appeared next, with Narcissa by his side, her hand resting lightly on the shoulder of ten-year-old Draco, who looked mildly bored but intrigued by the magical decor and the chance to see the interior of Hogwarts prior to getting to start next year. “Severus,” Lucius said smoothly, his gray eyes gleaming. “A most impressive affair. You’ve certainly outdone expectations.”

“I aim to meet them, Lucius,” Severus replied, his tone polite but guarded.

Draco tugged at his father’s robes. “Can I try the floating pudding now?”

Narcissa smiled indulgently. “In a moment, darling. First, let’s wish Professor Snape and his lovely bride well.”

Draco nodded dutifully. “Congratulations,” he said, looking at Tara. “Your dress is really shiny.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Tara said warmly. “I hope you enjoy the pudding.”

As the pair had finally finished greeting the majority of guests, Tonks waved to them enthusiastically from across the room, her hair a bright bubblegum pink. She hurried with Penny and Chiara in tow. “Best wedding ever!” Tonks declared. “Seriously, Tara, you look amazing. And you too, Severus,” she added, trying out the first name with a cheeky grin but tentative, cautiousness as well, uncertain if she could trust that she had the right to use his first name.

“Have you attended many weddings prior to this, Tonks?” Severus said, his voice dry, though there was a faint trace of amusement.

“More than you I’d wager.”

Penny leaned in, her voice quieter. “You’ll be the best Deputy Matron Hogwarts has ever had. Madam Pomfrey couldn’t have chosen a better assistant.”

Chiara nodded. “And the baby’s going to be so lucky, having two such amazingly intelligent parents.”

“Thank you,” Tara said, her eyes misting. “You’ve all been such wonderful friends. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As they moved through the room, congratulations continued to flow freely. Filius Flitwick raised a toast, his voice carrying over the hum of conversation. “To love and partnership, and to our first married staff members in far too long!”

The remark led to a cheerful discussion about their plans. When someone inquired about their living arrangements, Tara explained, “We’ll have a small suite in the castle. It’s perfect for the two of us and the baby—when she arrives.”

“Speaking of the baby,” Madam Pomfrey chimed in, beaming, “have you decided on names?”

“Not yet,” Tara admitted, smiling. “We want it to feel just right.”

“You’ve time yet,” Eileen Snape added, her rare smile softening her usual reserved demeanor.

“And you’ll be joining us as Deputy Matron?” Madam Pince asked.

“I will,” Tara said, her excitement evident. “I’m looking forward to it. There’s so much to learn from Poppy.”

Pomfrey nodded approvingly from Tara’s right elbow. “You’ll do wonderfully.”

There was mention of their honeymoon which sparked more curiosity from those still gathered. “Where are you off to?” Professor Sprout asked, her cheeks rosy from the wine.

“Paris,” Tara replied, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve both wanted to visit for years and he said I could pick anywhere.”

“Romantic,” Sprout said, clapping her hands together. “Just perfect for newlyweds.”

“That’s what everyone says. I hope it is true.”

“Paris is indeed enchanting,” Albus Dumbledore said with supreme confidence. “I’ve been more than a few times myself.”

As the night wore on, the quartet struck up a lively tune, and the dance floor filled. Severus, ever reserved, danced once with Tara, his expression a mix of mild discomfort and deep devotion that brought fond smiles to those watching.

By the time the enchanted clock in the hall struck midnight, friends, family, and colleagues surrounded the newlyweds, all united in their joy for the couple’s bright future. It was a celebration of love, unity and magic that brought them all together.

Chapter 37: Finally Alone

The moon hung low over the Black Lake, casting silvery ripples across its still surface. As the final notes of the reception faded into the distance, Tara and Severus stood on the edge of the lake, their fingers entwined. A soft mist swirled around them, parting to reveal a small enchanted boat, its lanterns glowing with a warm, golden light. The sleek vessel seemed to hum with quiet magic as it glided toward the shore.

Tara squeezed Severus’s hand. “This feels like something out of a nursery tale.”

Severus glanced at her, his dark eyes softer than she’d ever seen them. “It suits you, then.”

The boat docked with a gentle bump, and a wooden gangplank extended toward them. Severus stepped aboard first, turning to offer Tara his hand. Her wedding gown shimmered in the moonlight as she followed, her bustled train further gathered over one arm to keep it dry.

Once aboard, the boat pulled away from the shore, gliding smoothly into the open water. The lanterns’ glow reflected in the lake’s surface, creating the illusion of floating among the stars. Tara rested her head against Severus’s shoulder as the Hogwarts castle faded into the mist behind them.

“It’s really happening,” she whispered. “We’re married.”

He turned slightly, brushing a kiss against her temple. “And we’re finally alone.”

The words hung in the air, filled with a promise that sent warmth spreading through her.

They descended a short spiral staircase into the cabin below deck. The space was small but luxurious, with enchanted candles flickering softly on the walls and a large, comfortable bed draped in plush linens. A window revealed the moonlit water outside, the boat’s gentle motion lulling them into a world that felt entirely their own.

Severus closed the door behind them, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a rare vulnerability. “I never imagined this,” he admitted, his voice low.

Tara turned to him, her eyes shining. “What? That we’d be here?”

“That I’d have someone like you,” he said, stepping closer. He reached for her hand, tracing his thumb over her wedding ring. “Someone who saw past everything and chose me anyway.”

Tara smiled, her heart full. “You didn’t make it easy.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “No, I didn’t.”

She lifted her hand to his face, her fingers grazing the sharp lines of his cheekbone. “But you’re worth it, Severus. Every stubborn moment, every guarded word. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He leaned in then, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft yet filled with the weight of every thing between them. As their arms wrapped around each other, the world outside ceased to exist.

Tara’s hands found the clasps of his formal robes, undoing them slowly, while his fingers worked at the delicate ties of her gown. The fabric pooled at their feet, forgotten as they came together, bare and unguarded.

The candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows across the room as they sank into the bed. Their laughter, whispered words, and tender touches filled the space, weaving a tapestry of love and trust that would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

As the boat sailed smoothly toward Paris, the enchanted window framed the moonlit water, its soft light a silent witness to the beginning of their new life together. The scene faded to black, leaving only the sound of the boat’s gentle motion and the echo of their shared vows lingering in the air.