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The Perfect Month, October

Summary:

Thirty-one (plus one) pieces of smut, fluff, angst, one-shots, quick drabbles, blah blah blah surrounding the very lovely Severus Snape in response to Snapetober. It's his month, after all! It's also practically a holiday at this point in my head xD Enjoy ♥

Chapter Text

The moon was asleep tonight. Invisible. Even if the thick layer of clouds had not covered the sky in the strange, infinite darkness as they did the moon would have been gone. 

The world was black.

Empty.

Amidst the swath of colourless world, a sliver of pale skin caught the far-off lights of Hogwarts, flashing like a fish out of water as it cut across the tall grasses. Severus had returned. 

Crossing the ground in long strides, he cast his gaze skyward. The black, endless sky reflected in the wide eyes of the same colour. They scoured the bottoms of the clouds. He had missed the heavy drop of the day’s curtain. A heavy frown creased the skin between his brows. It shouldn’t have been so dark this early. He was certain that he had made it back before nightfall. Yet, there it sat.

The darkness.

If night had already fallen…

He would be locked out.

Severus shook his head to himself and continued storming toward the gates, the hint of a limp throwing off his gait. Cold air brushed across his neck, drawing an ache from his scar. It was always like this. Cold. Lonely. He hated returning to Hogwarts this late. It only reminded him of what he did not have.

There was no one waiting for him at the castle. No one sitting up in his quarters to ask how his day had been. And it had been terrible. A scuffle with a Murtlap nearly took off his leg and no one would be there to care. No one held any sort of compassion for him. Minerva would be off somewhere. Albus was dead. The rest of the faculty still avoided him, save one brat. The war was over but his life had not even seen the flicker of a change. 

He was still alone.

A hand, long-fingered and stained purple, clutched at the broken clasp of the cloak. He had snapped half of the clasp clean off while fighting with the Murtlap and promptly dropped it somewhere in the mud. Now, the cloak hung on him sideways and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being unbalanced. It also left his wounded leg open to air. 

He sneered down at the exposed skin of his calf. Dark hair matted with dried blood looked up at him. It stung something fierce.

Reaching the gates, he pushed with his free hand. They did not budge, they did not open. They remained firmly shut. Severus grabbed the bars with his hands and dropped his forehead to the cool metal.

“Damn .

Night had already fallen. 

Standing still, the pain in his leg was harder to ignore. It throbbed rhythmically. Severus sighed. He didn’t have the energy to walk to Hogsmeade and apparting was out of the question. A Patronus to Hagrid may work, but he would be forced to explain the Murtlap situation.

“Late even for you.”

Severus jumped at the voice.

“Potter?”

“I’ve told you, it’s Harry. It’s weird now that we’re…” Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Colleagues, I guess.” Yanking on the gates with a wry grin, Harry ushered him onto the grounds. “Ten years ago, you were the one bringing me in. Now-”

“Yes, yes. How far I’ve fallen.” 

Severus began to step forward, his bad leg unshielded by the cloak slipping down his shoulders leading first. A firm hand planted itself on his shoulder.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Very astute. Now if you’ll let me-”

“No. I won’t let you. What happened?”

“Nothing!” He had intended to sound annoyed but the sound came out angry and desperate. The words kept falling. “I am not up to something. There is no wrong I’ve committed. I spent my evening in that fucking forest that Hagrid seems entirely too fond of and all I have managed to do is harvest these bloody Murtlap tentacles.” 

Severus shoved his pouch at Harry. The green eyes stared steadily at him.

“Oh, quick staring,” he snapped, tugging the collar of his robes up over his scar.

“I didn’t think you were up to anything, Severus. You’re just always back by nightfall and this time you weren’t.”

Severus looked at the ground, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. Someone had noticed? Harry had noticed.

“You are implying that you stood out here and missed dinner? Tch. Unbelievable.”

“I’m not a liar.” Harry sucked a deep breath in, laughing lightly as he ran his hand through his hair. “Alright, I’m also not out here to argue. You’re not going to Pomfrey for that, right?”

Begrudgingly, Severus nodded.

“Er, are you maybe up for dinner with me? I mean that, eh, I’ll fix your leg up. I’m pretty okay at it, erm, that is that Hermione taught me a lot of what she knew and I know you thought she was at least half-way decent and so that probably means I won’t make things worse exactly and-”

“Salazar, Harry. Shut up.” Owlish green eyes blinked up at him. “I am…amenable to the idea.”

“Must hurt pretty bad.” He shot Harry a stern look but only earned a growing smile. “I’ve got whiskey too. Make it worth your while.” Harry grabbed at his elbow lightly, taking a fraction of his weight off his leg. “This okay?” Another nod. “Good. So,” Harry continued, looking straight ahead. “Want to tell me about what happened? I’m bad at talking, but I can listen alright.”

“I disagree,” Severus mumbled.

Harry fell silent, letting the quiet fill the space between them. It was strangely familiar. Turning his eyes toward the dark sky, Severus bit back tears of relief. He was going to sleep in his bed tonight. Eat a warm meal and his leg would be healed. 

“I had thought the Murtlap was dead,” Severus started. “It was obviously far from it.”

He smiled as he continued his story despite the ache in his leg. Someone was listening. Someone cared.