coldkidcookieneck

[coldkidcookieneck]

✨ Update Alert! ✨

Hello my dear readers,

After much anticipation (and a rather unfortunate detour into the realm of academic responsibilities—alas, even Hogwarts has exams), Part 5 has finally arrived!

For those who waited ever so patiently and sent owls inquiring about its whereabouts—I solemnly swear I was up to no mischief (just buried in studies). Thank you for sticking with me!

Also, I’ve gone back and edited previous chapters, so if you wish to relive the angst, uncover new details, or simply prepare your heart for what’s to come—venture forth and give them a read!

Your support means a lot to me. Thank you for every read, comment, and kind word—it truly keeps the magic alive!

Now, off you go! Part 5 awaits… if you dare. 🕯️✨

[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All by Myself With Severus Snape and Bleeding Truths

Summary: The reader uncovers buried secrets, clashes with Snape, and collapses—leaving fate hanging in the balance.

Author's note: Apologies for the delay—been tackling my studies and dodging rogue Bludgers of responsibility. But fear not! The story continues, packed with mystery, angst, and a certain Potions Master’s brooding glares. Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5

=====================================================

The warmth of sleep still clung to you as you drifted in and out of consciousness, curled beneath the blankets in the quiet of your home. The night had settled deep, wrapping everything in silence.

Snape had drilled you relentlessly over the past few weeks, and exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. But you weren’t foolish enough to think you were ready. Not really. Not yet. The wards he had placed around your home offered some reassurance, a layer of unseen protection. And yet, in the back of your mind, a whisper of unease remained.

It wasn’t until the soft creak of a floorboard shattered the stillness that your eyes snapped open.

Something was wrong.

Before you could fully register the sound, rough hands yanked you from bed, a strong grip clamping over your mouth. Panic surged through you as you thrashed against the hold, but the attacker was stronger.

"Quiet," a harsh voice hissed in your ear, and you immediately recognized the lanky Death Eater from weeks before, dragging you toward the door.

Fear turned to blind desperation as you struggled, but a sharp shove sent you tumbling forward. The air was knocked from your lungs as you crashed against the wooden stairs, pain exploding along your back and arms as you rolled down. You barely had time to groan before a boot pressed against your ribs, pinning you in place.

"Stay down, and this will be over quickly," the voice growled.

Then the air crackled—Snape’s wards had been triggered.

A thunderous crash erupted from the front of the house as the door blasted open, sending shards of wood flying. The weight on your ribs lifted as your assailant turned, but it was too late.

Snape had arrived.

His wand was already drawn, dark eyes burning with fury as he took in the scene. Shadows flickered across his face in the dim light, his presence filling the room like a storm rolling in.

Fools, he thought coldly, wand tightening in his grip. They dare touch her?

"Get away from her," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The Death Eater lunged, but Snape was faster. A nonverbal spell sent the attacker flying backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening thud. More figures emerged from the shadows—at least two more, their masked faces unreadable but their intent clear.

A jet of red light shot through the room, forcing you to dive behind a wooden worktable. Snape reacted instantly, his wand slashing through the air as he threw up a protective barrier. The Death Eaters moved in sync, trained for moments like these.

Snape calculated his next move with precision. His mind raced through the possible reasons. Retribution? A message? Or were they after knowledge? Did they believe she knew the potion recipe?

Another curse came hurtling toward him, and he deflected it effortlessly. He was outnumbered, but they were outmatched.

You gritted your teeth, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had trained for this, but facing it now was entirely different. The room became a storm of curses and counter-curses, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and shattered glass.

Then pain lanced through your side.

A curse—one you hadn't seen coming—struck just below your ribs, right where the bruise from the earlier attack throbbed. A searing agony ripped through you. You bit back a cry, staggering as warmth spread beneath your fingertips where you clutched your wound. Blood. You knew that if Snape saw you injured, he would either send you away or shift his focus from the battle, leaving himself vulnerable.

You couldn't let that happen.

Gritting your teeth, you pulled yourself into the shadows, slipping behind the shelves where Snape stored countless ingredients and potions. If you stayed low and quiet, maybe you could be useful—maybe you could find something, anything, that could help.

Snape was about to counter a spell when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you jerk forward—hit.

Pain lanced through your side, and Snape caught the way your body stiffened, the way your fingers instinctively clutched the wound before you forced yourself to move.

Foolish girl, he thought, a sharp pang of irritation and something dangerously close to concern cutting through him.

You were trying to hide it from him.

Of course you were.

Even in the middle of a life-threatening attack, you were reckless enough to put his safety above your own.

Stubborn, reckless, insufferable— Snape turned his attention back to the fight, —and yet, if she dies, I’ll never forgive myself.

You disappeared into the shadows, but Snape knew better. He knew you were hurt. Knew you were struggling to stay upright. And yet, despite the pain, you were still trying to fight.

Through the gaps in the shelves, you saw Snape moving with terrifying precision, his wand an extension of his will as he deflected and countered every spell thrown at him. His opponents were skilled, but Snape was ruthless. He was fighting not just to win, but to end this quickly.

And then you saw it.

One of the Death Eaters had veered off from the main battle, heading straight for your desk—your diary and scattered research notes. This wasn’t about potion ingredients or random theft. This was about knowledge. A clue from the past.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you reached for your wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape caught the movement in his peripheral vision just as the Death Eater reached for your diary. He had been turning to react when your voice rang out.

The Death Eater’s wand flew from their hand, but the effort sent a fresh wave of pain through your side, and you barely managed to stay upright. They turned, locking eyes with you, and before you could react, a powerful Stupefy crashed into you.

Snape saw the price of it before you even collapsed.

The way your body swayed, the sudden paleness of your skin—

No—

The Death Eater struck first. The moment the light left your eyes, Snape was already moving.

Something cold coiled in his chest.

Anger.

A lethal, burning anger.

The Death Eater barely had time to turn before Snape sent them crashing against the far wall with enough force to break something.

Then he strode toward you, ignoring the remaining intruder’s attempt at retaliation. His wand flicked once—a barrier flared between them, cutting off their curses.

His hand gripped your wrist, searching.

A pulse.

Faint.

Alive, he thought, exhaling sharply.

He turned his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing as he faced the remaining Death Eater. They hesitated, just for a second.

They weren’t expecting this.

They weren’t expecting him.

"Leave," he said, voice ice-cold. "Before I let my temper dictate the outcome."

The Death Eater hesitated, their stance shifting ever so slightly.

Then, without another word, they Disapparated.

Silence crashed over the house like a wave. The only sound was the ragged cadence of Snape’s breathing.

He looked down at you, limp in his arms, blood staining his fingers.

You reckless, insufferable girl, he thought bitterly, but his grip on you tightened as if to anchor you to this world.

He had too many questions, too many suspicions swirling in his mind.

But for now, only one thing mattered.

Don’t you dare die on me.

You woke to voices—low, urgent, and unfamiliar at first. The pain in your side was dull now, like an echo of what it had been, but the stiffness in your limbs told you you had been out for hours.

And then you recognized one of the voices.

Minerva McGonagall.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open, blinking against the dim candlelight. The warmth of a healing spell still lingered on your skin, and as your vision adjusted, you saw McGonagall standing beside Snape, her expression unreadable.

Another man sat near your bed—someone you had only heard of but never seen before in real life, only in papers and on chocolate frog boxes.

Albus Dumbledore.

Snape’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “You were reckless.”

You swallowed hard. ��I—”

“You disobeyed me,” he continued, his voice laced with anger and something else. Something sharper. Something dangerous. “You could have been killed.”

“I was trying to help,” you shot back, your voice hoarse.

Snape’s jaw tightened. Foolish girl. Does she not realize how close she came to dying? His hands curled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to remain still. He could still see it—her crumpled form, the blood staining his hands as he checked for a pulse. The ghost of that fear still clung to him, though he buried it beneath his usual scowl.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “The intruders weren’t after mere ingredients. They were looking for something specific.”

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “They were after a potion—a formula they believe you possess. One tied to your mother’s past.”

Snape felt the words strike deep, as if a long-buried truth had been unearthed. Lyra’s past. His lips pressed into a thin line. He had known this would come back to haunt them, but not like this. Not with her daughter being dragged into it.

Your stomach dropped. “They think I know how to make it?”

“Not just think,” Snape said coldly. “They tried to take you.” His voice was sharper than intended, but he didn’t care. He needed her to understand the gravity of what had happened.

Your mind raced. Why would they think you knew about your mother’s potion? And more importantly, why did Snape seem to know so much about it?

Dumbledore nodded. “This potion, if brewed correctly, would grant Death Eaters the ability to turn invisible at will, allowing them to go untraceable in their... activities.”

Your breath hitched. Had your mother been involved in this? And Snape—how did he know? You glanced at him, searching his face for answers, but he looked away, his expression unreadable. But his silence spoke volumes.

McGonagall exchanged a glance with Dumbledore. “Regardless, this proves they will not stop. You are in danger.”

Snape clenched his jaw. Of course she’s in danger. She was always going to be in danger the moment her name surfaced again. He had spent years keeping his distance, letting sleeping ghosts remain undisturbed. And yet, despite every effort, fate had dragged her straight into the fire.

Dumbledore spoke calmly. “You must be moved to a safe location, and dear Severus here will be joining you too.”

Snape stiffened. “Do you expect me to play babysitter?” His voice dripped with irritation, but beneath it, unease simmered. Protecting her meant being closer than he wanted to be—to her, to the truth, to memories he had buried long ago.

“You are already involved,” Dumbledore said. “And whether you approve or not, she may be the key to uncovering what truly happened.”

Snape met your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. She doesn’t even know the half of it.

You returned his stare, a suspicion settling in your mind. How did he know so much about your mother’s work? He regarded you briefly, something shifting behind his dark eyes.

Finally, he exhaled. “Fine.” His voice was clipped, edged with reluctance. “But let’s make one thing clear.”

He stepped closer, voice low and sharp. “You will listen to me. No more reckless heroics. No more foolish disobedience. If you want to survive this, you follow my orders. Understood?”

You swallowed hard but nodded. “Understood.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Then it is decided.”

With that, Dumbledore and McGonagall said their farewells, offering you one last look of quiet reassurance before stepping out into the night. Snape followed them, muttering something under his breath as he went to send them off.

The door clicked shut.

And then, silence.

When Snape returned, his expression was unreadable, but you had spent enough time around him to recognize the tension in his frame. It was as if he was bracing himself.

You weren’t about to let this go and demanded, "Why do you know so much about my mother's work?"

His expression darkened." This is not the time-".

“No. No more secrets.” You forced yourself upright, ignoring the way your body protested. “You’ve known things from the start. My mother, this potion—tell me the truth.”

Snape’s patience snapped. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

If she only knew the weight of the truth she was asking for...

“I think I do.” Your voice trembled, but you didn’t back down. “You’ve been hiding something from me since the beginning. I deserve to know—”

“You deserve?” His voice turned sharp as steel. “You have no idea what you’ve walked into. You think this is a game? That you can demand answers without understanding the consequences?”

“I almost died, Snape!” You shot back, hands curling into fists. “I have a right to know why! What my mother was involved in! What you’re hiding!”

His face twisted with something unreadable—anger, frustration, something deeper. Does she think this will change anything? That knowing the truth will make her safer?

“You are as reckless as she was.”

The words stung. “Maybe if you stopped treating me like a child and actually told me—”

“Enough!” Snape’s voice thundered through the room. “You think you can handle the truth? You can’t. Because once you know, there’s no turning back.”

Merlin help me, I wish she never had to.

Your vision swam. The anger, the exhaustion, the pain—it was all too much. A sharp, searing ache ripped through your side, and when you glanced down, your robes were stained red.

Snape’s eyes widened. Not again. Not her.

“Foolish girl—”

Your body tilted sideways, your strength finally giving out. The last thing you heard was Snape cursing under his breath before the world tilted and everything went dark.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[coldkidcookieneck]

can I request part 5 of your current fic, I am actually shlurping it up

Aww, that makes me so happy to hear! 🥹 I’m working on Part 5, so don’t worry—more is coming soon!

[coldkidcookieneck]

One of my favourite authors just blessed us with a new story! Run, don’t walk, to read it! 👀✨

Hey,

I saw that you are thinking about writing and I got this idea that I really would like you to write. Since you wrote about Frank Benson, I have a request where he and his wife get caught by their toddler daughter doing something freaky!!!!!!! if you know what I mean 😜and they try to explain it to her. So yeah hope you can bring this to live.

Thanks in advance, my writer😉.

A/N hello hello, I love this idea and will do my best to live up to it Pairing: Frank Benson/ (first person) wife reader warnings: smut and a three year old Frank's solid arms wrapped around my waist while he rutted relentlessly into me. "So close love...oh fuck!" he trailed off in pursuit of his orgasm. His grunts we almost deafening in my ear and I gripped the sheets tightly to keep myself conscious. "Frank I am ohhhh oh...." I moan loudly and my legs tighten while my body convulses around him. His thrusts falter and slow as he reaches his peak. We lay in a quiet silence until our 3 year old daughter, Evangeline, speaks up, "Mumma, why are you and Daddy naked and making weird noises?" I sit up quickly and look towards the door where she stands holding her stuffed lion. "Evangeline, my sweetheart, why are you out of bed?" I pull on Frank's tee shirt as he hustles to get his underwear back on. "Cuz I had a nightmare. What were you two doing?" I sigh softly and scoop her up, Frank follows me as I carry her to her room. "Mama and Daddy were doing some adult things, when a mama and daddy love each other they do things together that you can learn about as you get older." I lay her down in her bed, and tuck her in. Frank presses a kiss to her forehead. "Daddy you make silly noises when you and Mumma do that. Stop being so silly." She scrunches her face in slight disgust. "I bet I can make Mama make silly noises." he murmurs into my ear, presses a kiss to my temple, and heads back to our room. I scoff softly and kiss Evangeline's forehead and I hold her tiny hand as she falls asleep. A/N personally I hate that this is not my best work, but I am doing my best to put myself out there, so I apologize if it is too short and unenjoyable but it is what it is 😭 Also should we see more of Evangeline?

[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All by Myself with Severus Snape Awaiting the Battle

Summary: After a break-in, the reader discovers their mother's dark past and undergoes intense training with Snape to face looming dangers.

Author's note: For those who have been waiting for the update—thank you for your patience! I might’ve been caught in a time-turner loop, but here it is at last! Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ,Part 4 and Part 5 here

=====================================================

The events of the previous night lingered in your mind like a shadow. Despite Snape’s gruff dismissal of the intruders as mere thieves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it—something tied to the fragments of your mother’s mysterious past.

Snape felt the same. Though he would never admit it aloud, the attack had unsettled him. Not because he couldn’t handle a few desperate remnants of the Dark Lord’s regime—but because of the way the intruder had looked at you. The flicker of recognition in his eyes had been brief but unmistakable. And that meant trouble.

He had sent word to Minerva before dawn, using discreet channels. If something larger was at play, she needed to be aware. Yet now, as he worked in silence, he found himself irritated by your presence. Not because of your incompetence—though there was plenty of that—but because you were an unnecessary complication in a game he had thought long over.

The room was quiet save for the rhythmic bubbling of a cauldron and the faint scratch of Snape’s quill against parchment. He focused on his work with an almost ruthless precision, trying to push aside the nagging unease. You, however, were not so easily distracted.

You lingered by the shelves, pretending to organize jars, but your mind was elsewhere. Finally, you broke the silence. “Umm, Severus, may I call you that? And about yesterday…”

Snape’s quill paused mid-stroke. Without looking up, he nodded and replied “I trust you’re not about to waste my time with idle speculation.”

“It’s not idle,” you insisted. “Those intruders—they weren’t just thieves, were they? And you recognized my mother’s name. I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

Snape’s jaw tightened. He had hoped you wouldn’t press the issue. But you were persistent—like your mother. That, more than anything, unsettled him.

Your mother, he thought grimly, had been reckless in her youth, always drawn to dangerous ideas and dangerous people. The Carrington name was not one he had expected to hear again, let alone from you.

“Your mother,” he began slowly, “was… complicated. Brilliant, yes, but reckless. Her choices often placed her in the company of individuals who sought power above all else.”

“You mean Death Eaters,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Snape’s expression darkened. “She was never marked, but her allegiances were questioned. That is all I will say on the matter.”

You frowned, frustration bubbling up. “But why would they come here? What were they looking for?”

“Potion ingredients,” he replied curtly. “A common target for those with nefarious intentions.”

It was a lie—or at least, not the entire truth. Snape suspected there was something deeper at play, but until he had confirmation, he would not involve you more than necessary.

You weren’t convinced. There was something in his tone—something guarded—that made you suspect he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Before you could press further, a sharp knock echoed through the house. Snape stiffened, his wand appearing in his hand almost instinctively. He gestured for you to stay back as he moved toward the door.

This time, you obeyed—mostly. Keeping a safe distance, you watched as Snape opened the door, his expression sharpening into something unreadable.

Standing on the doorstep was a woman you had never seen before. She was tall, her posture rigid with a kind of effortless authority. Her sharp features were framed by neatly pinned grey hair, and she wore deep green robes that looked both elegant and practical. But it was her eyes that caught your attention—cool, intelligent, and piercing, as though they could see right through you.

You had never seen her before, but Snape’s reaction told you enough. His posture stiffened just slightly, his usual irritation tempered by something you couldn’t quite place.

The woman’s gaze flickered to you briefly, assessing, before she addressed Snape in a crisp, no-nonsense tone. “Severus. May I come in?”

Snape stepped aside without a word, and the woman entered, moving with the kind of quiet confidence that made you instinctively straighten up. There was something about her, something that made you feel oddly out of place—like an outsider looking in on a world that had existed long before you stepped into it.

Who was she? And how did she know Snape? Maybe his colleague from Hogwarts?

You swallowed your questions, but they churned in your mind as the woman turned to face you fully this time, her expression unreadable.

“And you must be the assistant,” she said, her voice measured, though there was an unmistakable note of curiosity in it.

You hesitated. She spoke as though she already knew who you were, as though you were just another piece in a puzzle she had already figured out. But to you, she was a complete mystery.

“There’s been chatter among certain circles—rumours of activity tied to the remnants of the Dark Lord’s followers. I thought it prudent to inform you.”

Snape inclined his head. “And I assume you received my message, Minerva."

Minerva. You turned the name over in your mind, still none the wiser. But whatever this woman wanted, one thing was clear—she wasn’t just a casual visitor.

You stiffened beside them. “Wait—you called her?”

Snape exhaled sharply. “Obviously.”

Your stomach twisted. If Snape had thought the situation serious enough to call for outside assistance, then your suspicions were correct—the break-in had been anything but random.

The woman—Minerva—turned her attention back to you, scrutinizing you with an intensity that made you resist the urge to shrink under her gaze. “I assume this involves your young assistant?”

Snape let out a long-suffering sigh. “It seems she has an uncanny knack for stumbling into trouble.”

You bristled but said nothing, still trying to piece together who this woman was and why she spoke with such familiarity to Snape. There was something about her presence—calm yet commanding—that told you she was someone of great importance. But whether she was an ally or just another reminder of how little you truly knew about Snape’s world, you weren’t sure yet.

“What exactly happened?” she asked.

Snape gave a clipped summary of the previous night’s events, omitting the part where you had disobeyed his order to stay put. McGonagall listened intently, her expression growing more concerned with every word.

“This is troubling,” she said when he finished. “If they were targeting you specifically, it suggests they’re after something more than ingredients.”

“What could they possibly want from me?” Snape asked, his tone edged with irritation.

McGonagall hesitated, then turned to you. “Your mother’s name—Carrington. There are old records linking her to a rare potion, one thought to enhance certain… dark magical abilities.”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he went very still. He had considered the possibility, but hearing McGonagall confirm it only deepened his unease. If those fools were truly searching for remnants of such knowledge, then you were in more danger than he had anticipated.

For a fraction of a second, he seemed lost in thought—just long enough for you to notice the barely perceptible shift. The slight tightening of his fingers around his quill. The flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition. Not just of the potion, but of what it meant.

You blinked, stunned. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Few have,” McGonagall replied. “It’s been lost to time—or so we thought. If there’s any truth to these rumors, they may believe your family holds some key to recreating it.”

Snape exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fools chasing shadows,” he muttered at last, his voice clipped. He dipped his quill into the ink, resuming his writing with almost forced precision, as if the motion alone could dismiss the conversation. But you weren’t convinced.

McGonagall studied him for a moment before turning back to you. “Be that as it may, you’d do well to be vigilant. And I suggest you keep an eye on your assistant—if she’s connected to this, she may become a target.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in.

After McGonagall left, the house felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken tension. Snape returned to his work, his movements sharp and deliberate. You hesitated, then approached him cautiously.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” you asked quietly.

Snape didn’t look up. “It’s likely.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”

At last, he lifted his gaze, dark eyes locking onto yours with rare intensity. “We prepare.”

The following morning, Snape wasted no time dragging you into the duelling chamber he had set up in the basement. The room was dimly lit, its stone walls damp and cold, with a series of old duelling dummies propped against one side. A long, faded rug ran down the centre, marking the unofficial boundary of the duelling area.

Snape stood at the far end, his robes billowing slightly as he turned to face you. He studied you with a critical eye, noting your grip on your wand—too tense, too uncertain. This would be difficult. You lacked the discipline, the instinct, the ruthlessness needed to survive a real attack.

He had seen it before—people who thought they could handle danger, only to freeze the moment real threats bore down on them. He would not let you be one of them.

“Wand out,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

You swallowed hard and obeyed, gripping your wand tightly.

“This is not some fancy fencing or muggle fighting club,” Snape began, pacing in front of you with his hands clasped behind his back. “There will be no safe practice rounds, no cheering crowd to bolster your confidence. Out there, hesitation will get you killed.”

“I understand,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Do you?” he snapped, his dark eyes narrowing. “Because from what I’ve seen, you’re far more adept at stumbling into danger than actually facing it.”

He wasn’t just talking about last night. There was a recklessness in you, a stubbornness that reminded him of someone else—someone he would rather not think about.

Heat flushed your cheeks, but you didn���t look away. “Then teach me. I’ll learn.”

He halted mid-step, scrutinizing you. You were exhausted from the night before, shaken, yet still standing in front of him, demanding to be better.

Snape stopped pacing, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might relent. Instead, he raised his wand and fired a non-verbal spell straight at your feet.

“Protego!” you shouted instinctively, barely managing to raise a shield in time. The force of the spell sent you stumbling back, but you kept your footing.

“Too slow,” Snape said sharply. “Again.”

For hours, he drilled you relentlessly. He threw spell after spell, each one faster and more unpredictable than the last. When you managed to block a Stupefy, he switched to Disarming Charms. When you deflected a jinx, he countered with a hex designed to knock you off balance.

You were sloppy. Your footwork was disastrous. And yet—

You weren’t giving up.

Most would have by now. He had seen fully trained wizards falter under less. But you kept standing, wand raised, even when you trembled with exertion.

“Focus!” he barked as you tripped over your own feet, landing hard on the stone floor.

“I am focusing!” you snapped, pushing yourself up and wiping sweat from your brow.

“Clearly not enough,” he retorted. “If this is the extent of your skill, you might as well hand yourself over to the enemy now and save them the trouble.”

The words stung, but you refused to let them break you. Gritting your teeth, you raised your wand again.

“Expelliarmus!” you shouted, aiming directly at him.

Snape flicked his wand effortlessly, deflecting the spell as if swatting away a fly. “Lousy." He narrowed his eyes. "Put some force behind it, or don’t bother at all.”

The hours stretched on, and your body screamed in protest. Your arms ached from holding your wand aloft, and your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. But every time you thought about asking for a break, Snape’s voice echoed in your mind: Hesitation will get you killed.

So you kept going.

By the time he finally lowered his wand, your shirt was soaked with sweat, and your breathing was ragged. Snape regarded you coolly, his expression unreadable. He let the silence stretch before speaking.

“You’re improving,” he said at last, though his tone was begrudging.

You blinked, startled. “Really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied. “You’re still abysmally slow, and your footwork is atrocious. But you’re… less hopeless than you were this morning.”

It wasn’t exactly high praise, but coming from Snape, it felt monumental. You allowed yourself a small smile.

He saw the flicker of a smile cross your face, and he ignored the way it made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

“Rest,” he instructed, turning away. “We begin again tomorrow at dawn.”

You groaned inwardly but nodded, too exhausted to argue.

As he left the room, Snape exhaled slowly.

You were nowhere near ready. But if last night had proven anything, it was that you would need to be.

He would make sure of it.

The next day, Snape’s training intensified. He pushed you to the brink of your limits, forcing you to dodge, block, and counter until your muscles burned and your wand felt like an extension of your arm.

But it wasn’t just the physical strain—it was the mental exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm you. Snape’s sharp critiques, his relentless pace, and his refusal to acknowledge your progress made you question whether you were truly capable of mastering any of this.

Snape saw it in the way your stance faltered, the slight delay in your counters, the way your frustration simmered just beneath the surface. It was predictable. Expected. Most people broke under this kind of pressure.

And yet, despite everything, you didn’t quit.

That was the only reason he continued. If you had shown any sign of giving up, he would have told you to leave, to stay out of his way, to stop wasting his time. But you didn’t.

One afternoon, after yet another gruelling session, you found yourself sitting on the cold stone floor, your head in your hands.

Snape exhaled sharply. Pathetic.

Except… no. Not pathetic. Just exhausted. He knew the signs. He had been there once—pushed beyond his limits, forced to fight until his body refused to move. Until his only options were survival or death.

“Do you intend to wallow in self-pity, or will you stand up and try again?” Snape’s voice cut through the silence like a whip.

You looked up at him, your frustration boiling over. “Why are you so hard on me? I’m trying, but it’s never enough for you!”

Snape’s expression darkened, and for a moment, he nearly snapped back. Because the world is merciless. Because no one will care how hard you tried when you’re lying on the ground, wandless, bleeding out. Because I know what happens when someone isn’t prepared.

Instead, he stepped closer, letting his words settle like iron.

“Do you think your enemies will go easy on you?” he asked quietly, his tone cold but measured. “Do you think they’ll care that you’re tired, or that you’ve already given everything you have? They will exploit every weakness, every hesitation. And if you falter, even for a moment, they will kill you.”

He didn’t soften his words. He couldn’t. The world wasn’t kind. If you wanted to survive, you had to understand that.

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. But beneath his harshness, you caught a glimpse of something deeper—concern, perhaps, or a twisted sense of responsibility.

You swallowed hard, but to his surprise, you didn’t look away. You didn’t shrink back or try to argue.

“I’m not giving up,” you said firmly, pushing yourself to your feet. “No matter how hard you are on me, I’m not giving up.”

Snape studied you in silence. The determination in your eyes, the set of your jaw—it was painfully familiar.

Foolish. Reckless. Stubborn.

Just like your mother.

He felt something settle uneasily in his chest.

“Good,” he said at last, his voice quieter now. “Because if you survive this, it won’t be because of luck. It will be because you earned it.”

Over the next few weeks, you began to see the results of your training. Your reflexes sharpened, your spells grew stronger, and you found yourself anticipating Snape’s moves before he made them.

One evening, during a particularly intense duel, you managed to disarm him—a feat you hadn’t thought possible.

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape’s wand flew from his hand.

Silence hung between you as the realization sank in. You had disarmed him.

Snape retrieved his wand with slow, deliberate movements, his expression unreadable. He turned it over in his fingers, eyes dark and unreadable. The fact that you had bested him—even just once—unsettled him more than he was willing to admit. He had trained you to survive, but had he underestimated just how much you had learned?

“Not bad,” he said at last. His voice was even, but something flickered in his gaze—calculation, scrutiny. Pride? No, not pride. He wouldn’t allow himself that. And yet…

You exhaled, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t outright praise, but coming from him, it was enough.

But as Snape studied you, a weight settled in his chest. This wasn’t just about teaching you how to hold your own in a fight. Every spell you mastered, every hesitation you shed, brought you closer to something inevitable. He had set you on this path, and whether he admitted it or not, he had a hand in whatever came next.

The training wasn’t over, and the danger still loomed. But for the first time, you felt like you might stand a chance.

And as you squared off against Snape once more, your wand at the ready, you realized something else, you weren’t just learning to defend yourself. You were learning to fight for the future and the truth about your past.

Snape raised his wand, his gaze steady. Whatever you would find, whatever lay ahead—he couldn’t shield you from it. He could only prepare you.

And so, the duel resumed.

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[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All By Myself and Much More of Severus Snape

Summary: What begins as a simple task for Snape leads the reader into a whirlwind of battles with forest creatures, intruders, and the ghosts of a family’s hidden past.

Author's note: At last, the brewing continues. Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 here

=====================================================

The morning fog still clung to the air as you set off on your mission to find valerian root, Snape’s terse instructions fresh in your mind. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming—"Look for pale pink flowers, thin leaves, and don’t bring me weeds,"—but you were determined to make good on your offer.

The streets of Spinner’s End were dreary as ever, but you ventured further, following a barely visible trail that wound into a small grove of trees at the edge of town. The deeper you went, the more the air seemed to hum with faint magic. A weathered signpost pointing to “Botanical Clearing” caught your eye, and you made your way toward it, stepping over tangled roots and patches of frost.

As you scanned the ground for valerian root, your fingers brushing the stems of unfamiliar plants, a soft rustling sound made you freeze. Slowly, you turned, your wand slipping into your hand. From behind a cluster of bushes, a large, shadowy figure emerged from the trees. It was a Grindylow, its green, spindly limbs slick with moisture, and its glowing yellow eyes fixed hungrily on you.

“Brilliant,” you muttered, fumbling for your wand. Of course, Snape had failed to mention the possibility of running into a water demon during your “simple” errand.

The Grindylow lunged, its webbed claws swiping inches from your face. Instinct took over as you shouted, “Stupefy!” A bolt of red light struck the creature’s chest, sending it staggering back.

But it wasn’t enough to stop it. The Grindylow snarled, circling you as you scrambled to steady your wand. You racked your brain for another spell when a sudden CRACK echoed through the woods. The Grindylow howled, its limbs twitching, before collapsing to the ground.

You turned to see Snape emerging from the shadows, his wand pointed at the now-immobile creature. His black robes seemed to blend into the darkness, and his expression was a mixture of irritation and begrudging concern.

“Did you think to prepare for this outing at all, or were you planning to duel every creature in the forest?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t know it would be so... lively,” you replied, trying to catch your breath.

Snape’s gaze flickered to the valerian root at your feet. “At least you found it. I suppose that’s worth something.”

Back at the house, you handed Snape the valerian root with a mix of pride and sheepishness. He inspected it closely, nodding once before setting it aside. “It’s a miracle you didn’t bring back dandelions.”

You bit back a retort as he began preparing the potion. The workroom was as precise and methodical as its owner, with shelves of neatly labelled jars and a cauldron already simmering over a low flame.

“Watch closely,” Snape instructed. “If you’re going to waste my time, at least learn something.”

You nodded, eager to prove yourself. He handed you a jar of powdered asphodel. “Add two pinches. No more, no less.”

You carefully measured out the powder, but as you tipped the second pinch into the cauldron, the jar slipped from your fingers. A small avalanche of powder fell into the potion, which immediately hissed and bubbled over.

Snape’s glare could have frozen fire. “Do you delight in chaos, or is it simply your nature?”

“Sorry!” you stammered, stepping back. “I’ll clean it up—”

With a flick of his wand, Snape stabilized the potion, though it now emitted alarming teal-coloured steam. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One more mistake and you’ll scrub cauldrons until the next equinox.”

“Sorry!” you said, flushing. “I’m just—new to this.”

He sighed deeply, muttering something about “inept amateurs,” but he allowed you to continue, this time under his watchful eye. Slowly, you got the hang of the rhythm, and to your surprise, he even offered a rare bit of praise.

“Passable,” he said as you added the valerian root to the cauldron. “Barely.”

As the potion simmered, Snape began explaining its purpose—The Draught of Living Peace, a potion designed to calm even the most frayed nerves. His voice softened as he spoke, and you realized this was more than just a routine brew for him.

“Potions,” he said quietly, “require discipline. Patience. A level of control few possess.” He glanced at you. “Qualities you would do well to cultivate.”

For a moment, his usual sharpness faded, and you caught a glimpse of something deeper—an almost wistful pride in his craft.

Just as the potion began to take on its intended lavender hue, a loud crash shattered the calm from near the entrance hallway. Snape froze, his hand hovering over the cauldron before his expression hardened into sharp focus.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. Before you could argue, he stalked toward the door, his wand gripped tightly.

Ignoring his order, you followed at a cautious distance, heart pounding. The source of the disturbance quickly became clear: the sound of muffled voices and hurried footsteps echoed through the house. Someone had broken in.

The intruders—two cloaked figures—were rifling through the sitting room, their wands drawn. One of them, a wiry man with a twisted sneer, was directing the other. “The potions storeroom will be in the basement,” he hissed. “Find it, quickly before that Snape comes.”

Snape emerged from the shadows, his wand aimed directly at the man. “I would suggest,” he said in a voice like ice, “that you reconsider your life choices.”

The wiry man flinched but then sneered, eyes narrowing. “Snape,” he drawled. “Didn’t think we’d run into you so soon. Still playing both sides, are you?”

Snape’s expression didn’t waver. “You assume I’m playing at all.”

The second figure—a younger woman—hesitated, her hand trembling as she pointed her wand toward Snape.

“Expelliarmus!” you shouted, stepping into the room. The spell caught her off guard, her wand flying from her grasp.

Snape shot you a sharp glare. “I told you to stay put,” he snapped, though there was a flicker of approval in his eyes.

The wiry man lunged for his wand, but Snape’s next spell hit him squarely in the chest, knocking him into the wall. The woman scrambled to retreat, but you raised your wand again, your heart racing.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned, surprised by the steadiness in your voice.

With the intruders subdued, Snape wasted no time binding them with thick ropes that materialized from the tip of his wand. His expression was unreadable as he stepped closer to the man. “Who sent you?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The man sneered, his lip curling. “You know who,” he spat. “And he hasn’t forgotten.”

Snape’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. He exchanged a glance with you, his expression unreadable but tense. She is so naïve.

But during this exchange, the man’s gaze flickered—just for a fraction of a second—to you. His eyes widened, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face. Doubt. Surprise.

Snape saw it.

His grip on his wand tightened instinctively. Damn it.

Before you could notice, Snape moved, pressing his wand to the man’s throat, his voice like venom. “Get out,” he growled, every syllable a deadly promise. “Before I make you regret it.”

The man chuckled but didn’t resist. He hesitated for just a beat longer, his gaze darting toward you once more. Snape didn’t miss the way the man seemed to hesitate, as if piecing something together—something dangerous.

This is bad.

The moment Snape released them, they Disapparated.

Silence crashed down over the room like a storm.

Snape’s gaze lingered on the door, his expression shadowed. “Thieves,” he said finally. “Nothing more.”

Lies. But necessary ones. She can’t know. Not yet.

He turned sharply toward you, his scowl deepening. “And what, exactly, was running through that reckless mind of yours when you barged in here barely knowing any spells to defend yourself?” His voice was sharp, but underneath it—buried deep—was something else. Something unspoken.

She doesn’t even realize what she’s done.

“Thank Merlin the one you knew actually worked,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You weren’t convinced. There was something in his tone that suggested this was far from random.

“Let’s return to the potion,” he said curtly, brushing past you. But as you followed him back to the room, the unease lingered.

Snape clenched his jaw, thoughts racing.

They know about her now.

And worse...

They recognize her.

This wasn’t over.

Not yet.

The room settled back into a tense rhythm as the potion brewed. To fill the oppressive silence, you found yourself talking, the words spilling out unbidden.

You spoke of your life in the Muggle world, your parents’ decision to leave the wizarding world behind, and your conflicting feelings about returning to a life you barely understood.

“My father always said magic was more trouble than it was worth,” you admitted, stirring the potion as Snape had instructed. “But part of me always wondered what I was missing.”

Snape was silent momentarily, his hands precise as he prepared the valerian root. “Your father was naive,” he finally said, clipped but thoughtful. “Magic is neither good nor evil—it is a tool. How you wield it determines its worth.”

His words resonated deeply, shifting your perspective in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Emboldened, you hesitated before adding, “My mother didn’t agree with him, though. She was... passionate about magic. She said she used to duel at school, that she was good at it.”

Snape’s movements stilled. Slowly, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Your mother’s name?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice. “Lyra Carrington,” you said, watching his reaction closely.

"Carrington." The name settled heavily in his mind, stirring memories long buried. He had not heard it in years, but the moment it left your lips, there was no doubt. Lyra Carrington—reckless, brilliant, infuriatingly stubborn. He had crossed paths with her more than once, always on the fringes of a war that had consumed them both. And now, her daughter stood before him, unknowingly stirring ghosts he had long tried to forget.

Snape’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes flickered with recognition. “Carrington,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She was formidable. A talented duelist, though prone to recklessness. She had a... reputation.”

“Reputation?” you pressed, intrigued.

He didn’t elaborate, instead focusing back on the cauldron. “She was skilled. That much is certain. And a staunch supporter of her beliefs, even when they led her into... dangerous circles.”

You frowned, your mind racing. “Dangerous circles? What do you mean?”

Snape hesitated, his gaze darkening. “Your mother was known to associate with certain individuals during Voldemort’s rise. She was never formally accused of aligning with him, but her choices raised questions.”

The revelation hit you like a jolt. Your mother had always been a fierce, enigmatic figure, but this side of her past was entirely new to you.

“Is that why they left the wizarding world?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It would explain much,” Snape replied, his tone softer but still guarded. “Perhaps they sought safety—or redemption—in obscurity.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as you grappled with the implications.

Later, as the potion reached completion, you couldn’t help but ask, “Did you know her well?”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Well enough,” he said shortly, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or an echo of old wounds.

Before you could press further, he set down the stirring rod with a decisive clink. “The potion is complete,” he announced his voice back to its usual clipped precision. “Bottle it, and be careful not to spill a single drop.”

As you carefully filled the vials, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of uncovering the tangled web of your family’s history—and its connection to the man standing beside you.

When you handed Snape the final vial, he regarded you with a rare look of grudging respect. “Not entirely useless,” he remarked dryly.

You smirked, the tension breaking just slightly. “High praise, coming from you.”

Snape gave a faint scoff, but his expression softened almost imperceptibly. For the first time, you wondered if, beneath the harsh exterior, there was someone who understood the struggles of navigating a world fraught with shadows and secrets.

As you left for the night, you turned back at the door. “See you tomorrow?”

Snape didn’t respond immediately, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “If you insist on returning, try not to destroy my house.”

You smiled, noticing his smirk. Perhaps this was the start of an unusual, tentative friendship—or something more.

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[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All by Myself and a Little More of Severus Snape

Summary: Reader tries to reconcile with her mysterious neighbour, Severus Snape after solo partying hard.

Author's note: Finally, after much brewing around, the sequel is out. Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4 here

====================================================

The first rays of sunlight streamed through your window, but your thoughts were clouded with guilt. You thought cynically, what a good way to start your New Year. Laying on the bed, memories of your loud music and encountering your brooding neighbour, Severus Snape, kept replaying in your mind. You couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you owed him an apology - that's more than words.

Determined to make amends, you decided on something simple yet heartfelt: butter cookies and coffee. You weren’t a professional baker, but you hoped the gesture would smooth things over. Throwing off the covers, you shuffled into the kitchen, mentally bracing yourself for the challenge ahead. By the time the smell of butter and vanilla filled the air, your nerves mixed with a strange sense of curiosity about the enigmatic man next door.

You slid the tray of cookies into the oven and glanced at the steaming cup of coffee you’d brewed. It was a simple gesture, but you hoped it would convey sincerity. By the time the biscuits were golden and fragrant, you’d carefully arranged them into a small basket. Beside it, a flask of freshly brewed coffee rested snugly in its holder. You had enchanted the coffee to stay hot, a small touch you hoped he’d appreciate.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped outside and approached the dark, slightly foreboding house next door. The shadows of Spinner’s End seemed to linger longer around it, but you shook off the unease and rapped gently on the door.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from within. When the door swung open, there he was—Severus Snape. His black robes billowed slightly as if stirred by a breeze that didn’t exist, and his sharp gaze pinned you where you stood.

“Yes?” he intoned, his voice as silky and sharp as you remembered.

“Good morning,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I wanted to apologise for last night. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I brought these as a peace offering.” You held up the basket, your fingers tightening nervously around its handle.

Snape’s gaze flicked to the basket and back to you, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he sighed and stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter.

You stepped inside, and immediately, a sweet, earthy aroma hit your senses. It was unlike anything you’d ever smelled—warm, herbal, and oddly comforting.

“Your house smells... unique,” you remarked, genuinely intrigued. “Like herbs and flowers. What is that?”

Snape stiffened, his expression sharpening. “I fail to see how that is any of your business.”

You held up your hands defensively. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just... it reminds me of something magical or maybe like potion brewing.”

His gaze snapped to you, his suspicion intensifying. “Magical?”, “Potion brewing?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous.

Realizing you’d let something slip, you hesitated before reaching into your pocket. Slowly, you pulled out your wand and held it up.” Hey, don’t get too hasty or jinx me. I know that you’re a wizard. Because yesterday when you were confronting me I saw your wand in your sleeves so obviously I’m a witch too,” you admitted. “Pureblood, technically, but I was raised in the Muggle world. My parents wanted to keep me away from... all the drama.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed further, though this time it was more in scrutiny than outright hostility. “A pureblood, living among Muggles,” he mused, his voice dripping with disdain. “How... peculiar.”

You shrugged. “It was my parent's choice. They taught me enough magic to get by, but I’m still learning. Hence the lack of finesse with things like silencing charms.”

Snape let out a low scoff, but his posture relaxed ever so slightly. “How fortunate for you, then, that your ignorance hasn’t resulted in catastrophic consequences. Yet.”

You chose to ignore the jab, instead glancing around his dimly lit home. Your eyes landed on a small cauldron bubbling in the corner of the room. “Is that what’s making the smell?” you asked, pointing.

He followed your gaze, then sighed. “If you must know, I am brewing The Draught of Living Peace. It is a delicate potion, one that requires precision and, he shot you a pointed look, —“the absence of disruptions.”

You winced at the reminder of your blunder but pressed on. “It sounds fascinating. How do you get it to smell so… comforting?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, though he seemed faintly amused by your curiosity. “The aroma is a byproduct of combining lavender essence and powdered moonstone. Satisfactory?”

“Actually, yes,” you said, smiling. “I didn’t realize potions could be so… delicate.”

Snape stared at you for a moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Few appreciate the intricacies of potion-making,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You stepped closer, your curiosity outweighing your caution. “Could you show me? I’ve always been interested in potions, but I never had a proper teacher.”

He raised an eyebrow.“Your enthusiasm for potioneering is almost as dangerous as your disregard for silencing charms.” 

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” you protested, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “I can follow instructions... most of the time.”

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are relentless,” he muttered, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his tone.

As he turned back to his cauldron, he frowned slightly. “Blast it,” he muttered under his breath.

“Something wrong?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m out of valerian root,” he said, half to himself. “And the apothecaries in this miserable town don’t carry it.”

Your face lit up with an idea. “I could help! I mean, I’m new here, but I’d love to explore the area. Maybe I could track some down for you?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “And what would you know about valerian root?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “But you could describe it, or I could take notes. Consider it part of my apology.”

For a long moment, Snape regarded you as though weighing the pros and cons of trusting you with even the smallest task. Finally, he sighed, his resignation evident. “Fine. But if you return with anything other than valerian root, I will hold you personally responsible for the consequences.”

As you took out a small notebook and began jotting down his description of valerian root, you couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of accomplishment. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Perhaps this strange, begrudging connection was the beginning of something—not quite friendship, but something nonetheless.

As you turned to leave, Snape’s voice stopped you.

“Don’t expect gratitude,” he said dryly, though his tone lacked real malice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you said with a playful smirk.

Before you stepped out, you turned back to him. “By the way, I never introduced myself.” You gave your name before tilting your head. “And you are?”

Snape gave you a long, unreadable look before answering in his usual slow, deliberate tone. “Severus Snape. I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts.”

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[coldkidcookieneck]

Hi guys,

Since today is our darling Severus Snape's birthday. So why not reward my dear readers with a sequel to All by Myself and a Little Bit of Severus Snape to lighten up your days.

Part 1 and Part 2

Hope you guys enjoy reading and thank you for your supports💕

[coldkidcookieneck]

Title: All by Myself and a Little Bit of Severus Snape

Summary: Reader just moved in right next door to Severus Snape and gets in trouble with him over some music.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem Reader

Author's note: This is my first story and shot at writing this fanfic. Hope you guys enjoy it and Happy New Year Guys !!!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 here

=====================================================

The sun has just set by the horizon, casting long gloomy shadows along the quiet streets of the little town of Spinner’s End. Most of the houses were dark with no light and life in them, except for one - the home of a new neighbour, you. 

You had recently moved into town because of the expensive lifestyle you had faced living in cities like London. Here, you could have similar accommodations for much cheaper, allowing you to save some money for renovations. Moreover, you were a pureblood witch who had been brought up the Muggle way. Your parents, fearing for your safety and wanting to keep you away from the pureblood prejudices of the wizarding world, had chosen a quiet, hidden upbringing for you. Despite this, they ensured you received a wand and a solid grounding in magic so you could adapt when the time came for you to engage with the magical world. Now, here you were, transitioning to an unknown town and a fresh start.

Coincidentally, the house you bought was next to a person named Severus Snape, a figure you knew little about other than mere whispers and gossips of his mysterious dark character along with his infamous billowing robes that he seems to wear all the time. 

However, tonight you were in a celebrating mood and well spirited so you connected the enchanted gramophone-an heirloom that can be turned into a laptop when among muggles that play both Muggle and magical tunes-to the Bluetooth speakers you had enchanted to work with it, blasting your favorite tunes to celebrate the achievement of settling done after a long arduous week. Moreover, it was New Year’s Eve, so why not just ring in the new year spirits, you thought.

The bass echoed and thumped through the walls, the beats along with the bass filled the air, creating a stark contrast to the usual tranquility of Spinner’s End. Unbeknownst to you, Severus Snape was in his basement trying to brew The Draught Of Living Peace and the music was not aiding his effort in brewing it peacefully.

With a deep sigh and a furrowed brow, Snape slammed the knife he was holding with frustration down on the countertop. He could no longer bear to ignore the raucous and booming sounds from your house. Determined to put an end to this nuisance, he donned his robes and stormed out of his house, marching up to your front door. 

You were in the middle of a particularly energetic dance when you heard a very loud knock. Startled, you paused the song, quickly transfiguring the gramophone into the laptop, and slipped your wand in your sleeves when you went to the door. Who could it be at this hour? You opened it, only to find Snape standing there, looking pissed off and irritated. 

“Good evening,” you greeted skeptically, trying to mask the surprise with a friendly and jovial smile. 

“Well, it would be a good evening if you weren’t blasting that infernal music in your merry way when others are trying to accomplish meaningful tasks in their life.” he replied sarcastically, his voice dripping with irritation.” Do you have any idea what time it is?”

 You were flabbergasted by his words and glanced at your watch shrugging you said “ It’s not that late even. I didn't think it would be a problem seeing there’s not many staying on the street and your house was dark too so I thought maybe you were out. I didn't think it would be a problem.”

 Snape’s eyes narrowed further. “Well, it is a problem. As the music is preventing me from completing my work as it needs a modicum of peace and quiet.”

Realizing and feeling guilty for your mistake, you sighed apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you and disrupt your work. I just got a little carried away with the New Year’s spirit”.

Snape’s stern expression softened slightly, though he still looked exasperated.”Just keep it down, would you?”

“Of course,” you agreed, feeling a bit sheepish. “ I’ll turn it off. I didn’t realize it was bothering anyone.”

With a curt nod, Snape turned and walked back to his house, leaving you feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity about your enigmatic neighbor. 

As you settled down for a quieter evening, you couldn’t help but reflect on the interaction. Despite his stern and dark personality, something was intriguing about Severus Snape. You absentmindedly slid your wand out and started twirling it as you mused. Maybe, as the new year began, this would be a chance to bridge the gap between your vastly different worlds. You smiled softly, thinking of ways to make amends or perhaps even find common ground with your mysterious neighbour.

As the clock struck midnight, you whispered an incantation that released a small burst of sparkling light—your own magical tradition for welcoming the new year.

You quietly wished yourself, "Happy New Year," hoping that it would bring new opportunities and connections—and maybe, just maybe, a peaceful relationship with the man next door.

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[coldkidcookieneck]

Newbie

Hi guysss!!!! I'm new here—actually not new using Tumblr but new in creating stories and writing here. I'm very excited for this journey and hope to have a good time here with everyone. PS: Please let me know if there's anything I can improve in my writing, and don't' be afraid to message me or just chat!!!! Can't wait to share my stories here for you guys.