Hogwarts – The Great Hall – Yule Ball
The enchanted snowflakes fell in slow spirals from the bewitched ceiling, glittering like diamond dust. Garlands of frostbitten ivy twined around the pillars, and the scent of cinnamon and cedar filled the candlelit hall.
Lillian stood just inside the entrance, spine straight, robes dark and simple—no jewels, no velvet, no sparkle.
He didn't need them.
He was the storm.
Students twirled to the ghostly orchestra, laughter echoing like distant bells, but the moment Severus entered, everything else faded.
His robes were black. Unspectacular.
But his eyes—
They searched the room like they were looking for a war.
They found Lillian.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then—
"Dance with me," Lillian said.
Severus hesitated. The whole hall was watching. Even—
Lucius.
Leaning against the arch with a smug smirk, silver-threaded dress robes catching the light, his gaze a sharp blade.
And on the opposite end—James. Golden, cold-eyed, the punch glass spinning in his hand.
Severus placed his hand in Lillian's.
The hall went silent.
Their dance was quiet fire. Not perfect. Not polished. But real.
Somewhere, someone spilled a goblet.
A second later, someone screamed.
Because the punch had turned to acid.
James Potter stood in the middle of the room, wand lowered.
"Guess you're not dancing with me tonight, Lily."
The crowd gasped.Lillian's face froze.
"Don't call me that," he whispered.
James smirked, cruel. "Make me."
A duel nearly broke out on the dance floor. Sparks flew—literally—but Dumbledore's spell broke it apart like thunder.
"Enough," he said. "There are eyes watching us tonight. BEHAVE"
Room of Requirement – Midnight
It had changed into a bedroom. Not a lavish one. Simple.
One bed. One fire. Two people.
Severus stood at the door.
He hadn't spoken since the Ball.
Lillian lit a single candle.
"You let him humiliate you," Severus said suddenly. "In front of everyone."
Lillian didn't flinch. "You let him mark you."
A pause.
The wind outside wailed.
Then Severus crossed the room and grabbed Lillian's wrist.
Not hard. Not soft. Just—desperate.
"I don't know who I am anymore," he whispered.
"You're mine," Lillian said.
And their lips met—finally.
It wasn't soft.It wasn't sweet.It was the taste of every near-kiss and almost and never.It was fire.
But behind them, a door creaked.
Lucius.
Leaning in the shadows. Slow clapping. Cold smirk.
"Touching," he said. "But tragic."
Severus turned sharply, wand drawn.
Lucius didn't blink.
"You think this is love?" he asked. "No. This is self-destruction with extra steps."
He turned to leave—then stopped.
"By the way… the Dark Lord sends his regards."
Astronomy Tower – 3:33 AM
The sky burned green.
A Dark Mark curled above the Forbidden Forest, shimmering like a wound in the clouds.
They stood at the tower's edge—Lillian, Severus, and Dumbledore.
"He's returned," the Headmaster said grimly.
"No," Lillian whispered. "He never left."
And far below, Lucius stood at the edge of the lake. The Mark above him. The shadows beside him.
A voice—soft, silken, terrible—rose from the mist.
"Come, Severus. Your place is with me."
Voldemort.
In the flesh.
And Severus?
His heart split clean down the middle.
Between loyalty.
And love.
Between destruction.
And defiance.
And he whispered, too soft for either side to hear:
"I choose neither. I choose me."