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ms-snape · 2 days ago

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hi!! could i request a young!severus snape (in the maraurders era) where he gets drunk and is literally the oppositte of his usual self? — flirty, confident, a lot more touchy, a total tease ..

(no smut just an awkward severus turning into a flirty douche that makes your face redder then a tomato!)

Title: A Night To Remember

Warnings: a bit of angst, drunk sevvy

Words Count: 4000+

Masterlist

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It had been a slow evening in the Slytherin common room. The usual murmur of students studying, reading, or gossiping had quieted by the time the moon had risen high in the sky, its silvery glow casting shadows on the stone walls. You sat in your usual spot, a large armchair near the fireplace, watching the flames flicker as you absentmindedly ran your fingers over the edge of a book, the pages untouched.

There was always something about the way Severus Snape acted that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of a precipice, a foot hovering over a cliff with no way of knowing if you'd fall or fly.

You were dating Severus, though no one really knew. It wasn’t that you were ashamed—more like he was simply… private. Extremely private. And distant. Emotionally unavailable, most of the time. He was the type of person who kept his thoughts locked away, like a vault you couldn’t get into. And that was fine, really. You were used to it.

But lately, the space between you had started to feel wider. The rare moments when he would look at you with something softer in his eyes had become almost nonexistent. The little touches, the accidental brushing of hands in hallways, were reduced to nothing. And though you hadn’t spoken of it, it had been gnawing at you.

You shifted in your chair, eyes flicking to the door, waiting for him to appear. He was late—again.

But this time, when he finally walked through the door, it wasn’t the usual quiet, self-assured Snape you were used to. No, this Snape had a gleam in his eyes, a different kind of fire in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. His usually sharp features were flushed, and his step was slightly unsteady.

"Severus?" you called softly, standing up from your chair. Your heart skipped at the sight of him, at how uncharacteristically… disheveled he looked.

He stopped a few paces from you, blinking slowly as if he were trying to focus. The scent of firewhisky wafted from his robes, and your suspicion deepened. Severus Snape wasn’t the type to drink much—at least not in public, anyway. His reserved nature kept him far away from the rowdy gatherings and parties that other students indulged in.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice rougher than usual, but there was a playful edge to it. His lips curled into something almost like a smirk, but it didn’t feel cruel. In fact, it was… charming?

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the confusion rising in you. "You’ve been drinking," you observed, crossing your arms.

His eyes narrowed in a manner that was almost comical. "Really?" he asked, feigning surprise. "You think so?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing the room slowly. “What happened? I thought you hated drinking."

"I do," he muttered, swaying a little on his feet. “But sometimes even I need… a break from my usual self."

You could hardly contain your smile. The snark, the biting wit—usually so prominent in Severus—was dulled. What was more striking, however, was that he wasn’t pulling away from you. His usual cold distance seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something warmer, though it was still unmistakably Severus. You saw him take another unsteady step toward you, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound ringing in the otherwise quiet room.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. But then, before you could answer, he wobbled and caught himself on the edge of the table next to him, his hand resting there for balance. You stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to steady him.

Snape’s eyes flickered to your touch, then back to your face. His lips quirked in a smile that was almost… mischievous. "You’re so serious all the time," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, as though savoring the words. "Why are you so serious, Y/N?"

You frowned slightly at the question, unsure of how to respond. "I… I don’t know," you said, trying to be honest but also not entirely sure of what he meant. "Maybe because you’re so distant all the time."

Severus tilted his head as if your answer intrigued him. Then, unexpectedly, his hand moved from the table and reached toward your face. You froze, your breath catching as his fingers lightly brushed against your cheek. The touch was so unlike him, so tender, that your heart fluttered in your chest.

“You think I’m distant, huh?” he murmured, his eyes suddenly locking onto yours. “Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right moment. You don’t always make it easy, Y/N. But… I’m trying.”

Your mind raced. Was this really Severus Snape? This flirty, playful version of him was so different from the man you were used to. There was no biting sarcasm, no dark, brooding intensity. Instead, it was like all the walls he had put up had crumbled in one fell swoop, leaving only… him.

He leaned a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But you know, I’m not used to this,” he confessed, his voice a hushed whisper, barely audible. “I’m not good at… well, this.” His fingers, now curled against your shoulder, gently traced the outline of your jaw. “But I think I’m figuring it out.”

You were stunned into silence, blinking at him in disbelief. For the first time in a long while, Severus wasn’t just the aloof, impenetrable figure you’d come to know. No, he was something else—something that made your pulse race and your chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“I—Severus, are you… drunk?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath.

He smirked, a crooked, almost boyish expression. “Me? Drunk?” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no malice in it—just warmth. “Of course not. I’m perfectly in control.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

“Alright, maybe a little,” he admitted, his voice dropping into something playful, low. “But I do what I want tonight.”

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I should trust you when you’re like this.”

Severus’s smirk grew wider. His hand slipped from your shoulder to rest against the back of your neck, his thumb gently rubbing the sensitive skin there. You gasped, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N?” he asked softly, his face dangerously close to yours. There was a teasing note in his voice, but his eyes were filled with something far deeper—something you had never seen before.

“I—I don’t know what to think right now,” you confessed, caught between laughter and something else entirely. "You're acting so… different."

His lips curled up at the corners, his fingers now pressing more insistently against your neck as he leaned in just a little closer. “Good. I like surprising you.”

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat at how incredibly close he was now. His breath was warm on your skin, his presence overwhelming. You felt the intensity of his gaze, the weight of the silence hanging between you. Then, before you could react, he did something that made your heart stop.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft peck or an innocent brush of lips. No. It was a deep, urgent kiss, full of all the feelings he’d kept hidden for so long. His lips moved against yours with surprising gentleness, as if he were testing the waters, unsure but eager.

You froze for a moment, not sure if this was really happening, if this was the same Severus you knew. But then, instinct took over, and you kissed him back. His hand slid from your neck to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his chest was heaving with breath, his face flushed from the intensity of the moment. His eyes, wide and almost innocent in their shock, flickered between yours as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I—I didn’t expect that,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark, disheveled hair.

You could barely suppress a laugh, still dazed from the kiss. “You didn’t expect to kiss me?” you teased, still in shock at how different he was acting. "Then why did you?"

Severus's smirk returned, but there was a softness to it now, a vulnerability that you rarely saw from him. "Because," he said, voice quiet but confident, "I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

Your heart skipped in your chest at his words, the weight of them hanging in the air like something both fragile and precious.

“And now I’m not going to stop.” His voice was teasing again, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that you hadn’t expected to see tonight.

You smiled, finally feeling the distance between you both begin to shrink. “You’re incredible when you're like this,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his. “But I think you’ve had enough firewhiskey"

Severus gave you a half-hearted glare, clearly unbothered. "You always ruin the fun, Y/N," he muttered, though his smile was still there.

You leaned into him, your foreheads touching. “I think you’ve had more than enough fun for one night, Severus.”

With that, you both sank into the softness of the armchair, his arm draped over your shoulders as he let out a deep sigh, content in a way you had never seen him before.

And for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the weight of his distance. Instead, you felt his warmth, his heart—a side of him you didn’t know he was capable of showing. The walls had come down, and for the first time, you could see Severus Snape for who he truly was.

And somehow, that was enough.

The early morning light filtered through the high, narrow windows of the Slytherin common room, casting long shadows across the stone floors. You awoke to a feeling of warmth, but it wasn’t the warmth of the sunlight creeping in—it was the sensation of something solid beside you, the familiar weight of Severus Snape’s presence.

You blinked, still groggy, trying to piece together what had happened. The night before was a blur, but you remembered enough: the firewhisky, the laughter, the kiss.

You glanced over at Severus, who was still sleeping beside you on the armchair, his head resting against the back, his face turned toward you. His dark hair fell across his forehead in a messy, unruly fashion—he looked almost boyish in his sleep, completely unlike the Snape you usually saw. There was a sense of vulnerability in his stillness, a quiet peace that you had never witnessed before.

You sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him. The events of the night before began to replay in your mind. The way he’d been so different, so open, so… tender. You could still feel the echo of his kiss on your lips, the warmth of his touch on your skin. The walls he’d built for years had come crashing down, revealing a side of him that you hadn’t even known existed.

But now that he was sober, would things change?

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach tightening at the thought of what might happen once he woke up and remembered. The Severus you knew didn’t let his guard down. He didn’t show emotion—especially not affection. It had always been an unspoken rule between you two that what existed between you was… complicated. You were never sure if he actually cared for you, or if he just needed someone to fill the space he left in his own heart.

But last night… last night was different.

You reached out and gently touched his shoulder, hesitant to wake him but unable to resist. He stirred slightly, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes fluttered open. They blinked in confusion at first, and then the haze of the night before seemed to clear, leaving only the cold, calculating Severus Snape you were more familiar with.

He sat up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head, smoothing down his disheveled hair. You watched him, heart in your throat, as his eyes flicked to you. There was a brief moment of silence—awkward, tense.

“Morning,” you said, your voice a little more hesitant than you’d intended. “How are you feeling?”

Severus didn’t answer immediately. He rubbed his temples, groaning softly as if trying to shake off the remnants of the firewhisky. Then he turned to face you fully, his gaze sharp, guarded.

“What happened last night?” he asked, his voice low and unsteady.

The bluntness of his question took you by surprise. You had expected some form of awkwardness, but this—this felt like something entirely different, like he was trying to distance himself from whatever had happened.

You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “You were... drunk and we… kissed,” you said softly, not daring to meet his eyes.

Severus raised an eyebrow, a flash of disbelief flickering in his expression. “Kissed?” He ran a hand through his hair again, clearly still processing the information. “I… don’t remember that.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of unease in your chest. "Yeah, well, you were drunk."

He frowned. "I don’t drink. I… I’m not used to that."

The words came out with a surprising mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. Severus wasn’t one to admit his weaknesses—his pride always kept him on the edge of everything, refusing to let anyone see him falter. You could sense his discomfort, even if he tried to mask it with his usual cool demeanor.

You decided to press a little more, not wanting him to slip back into his wall of indifference. “It was… nice, though. You were different. You were, uh, affectionate.”

His gaze faltered for a moment, and you saw a flicker of something in his dark eyes—something akin to regret, perhaps, or fear. He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t myself last night. You know how it is… alcohol makes people act out of character.”

There it was again. The familiar defensiveness. Severus was shutting down, retreating into the fortress he had built around himself. You felt a pang in your chest as you watched him struggle with the remnants of his drunken vulnerability. You had seen the cracks in his armor, but now that they were being filled with cold stone once again, you didn’t know how to reach him.

“You don’t have to act like it didn’t happen,” you said, your voice steady but soft. “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

Severus let out a sharp exhale, glancing back at you with a look that was almost… apologetic. It was a fleeting expression, gone before you could truly process it. “You shouldn’t take me seriously when I’m drunk. It was… a lapse in judgment.”

A lapse in judgment.

The words stung more than you expected. You had hoped for something—anything—to acknowledge the sincerity you had seen in him, even if only for a moment. But instead, you were faced with his refusal to acknowledge what had happened. The distance between you felt like it had stretched even further in the light of day.

“I don’t think it was a lapse in judgment,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. “Maybe you just don’t know how to be honest with yourself.”

Severus’s eyes hardened, and you saw the familiar walls rising once again, stone by stone. He shifted in his seat, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “I don’t need your lectures, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions threatening to spill over. You had never been good at hiding your feelings, especially when it came to Severus. And right now, you were feeling a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and—if you were being honest—hurt.

“I’m not lecturing you,” you said quietly, standing up from your seat. “I just thought that maybe… just maybe… you didn’t want to push me away anymore.”

Severus didn’t respond right away. He didn’t have to. His silence spoke volumes.

You turned away, heading toward the exit of the common room. The heavy feeling in your chest only grew stronger with every step. You didn’t know what you were expecting from Severus, but you certainly hadn’t anticipated this cold rejection. You thought he’d at least acknowledge what had happened between you—the connection you’d shared, however brief.

As your hand rested on the doorknob, you paused, glancing over your shoulder. Severus hadn’t moved, but his gaze was fixed on you. He was watching you with a strange mixture of longing and frustration, as though he didn’t quite know how to deal with the situation, how to deal with you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, and there was something more in it—regret, maybe? “I didn’t mean…”

But before he could finish, you opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit corridor outside. You didn’t want to hear it. Not yet.

You needed space. You needed time to sort out the mess of feelings swirling inside you.

The heavy door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality, and you leaned against the stone wall for a moment, pressing your hand to your forehead. You felt the sting of tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Severus Snape had always been difficult. Distant. But last night, for a brief moment, you had seen him—truly seen him. And now, in the light of day, it felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

Maybe you were just fooling yourself.

It had been days since the uncomfortable confrontation in the dungeon hall, and with every passing moment, you found yourself more certain of two things: Severus Snape was as impossible to understand as ever, and you were a fool to think you could make him change.

But that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, nor did it stop the steady pull of curiosity that kept drawing your eyes toward him whenever he passed in the halls. Severus was not a man you could predict. He wasn’t even a man you could know—at least, not in the way you wanted to.

The walls he’d built around himself were high and thick, and no matter how many cracks you thought you saw in them, they always closed up again. The kiss from that night seemed more like a fleeting dream than a reality—if you dared think about it at all.

And yet, here you were, standing outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room, feeling every ounce of uncertainty bubble up in your stomach. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t seek him out again. That you’d let things settle and maybe, just maybe, find some semblance of peace. But the silence between you two had stretched long enough that it was starting to hurt.

You wanted closure—something to understand about him, something to break the wall of cold indifference he’d thrown up after that night.

A few quick steps brought you to the heavy iron door, and you hesitated for just a moment before entering. The familiar scent of damp stone and earth filled your nose as you made your way toward the shadowed corner of the common room where you knew he’d likely be, hunched over some book, as he often was.

The common room was nearly empty. A few first years sat in a cluster near the fireplace, whispering and giggling, but there was no sign of Severus. Maybe he wasn’t there after all. Your heart sank. Maybe you were too late.

But as you turned to leave, a voice from the shadows stopped you.

"Looking for someone?"

You froze, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His voice—the same smooth, dark tone that always sent a shiver down your spine—was laced with that familiar coolness, but you could swear there was something else in it too. A weariness? A trace of something unspoken?

You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you stood there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "I was," you said softly, turning slowly. "I thought… maybe we should talk."

Severus didn’t answer right away. He was seated in a darkened alcove at the far end of the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, his fingers wrapped around a heavy textbook. The faintest light from the fireplace caught the edge of his profile, casting sharp shadows across his face. For a brief moment, you saw the boy he’d once been, hidden behind the cold facade of the man he’d become.

His eyes flicked to you, and then back to the book in his lap. “We have nothing to talk about,” he said, though there was a hesitance in his tone that made you pause.

You folded your arms across your chest, steeling yourself. "I don’t believe that."

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not used to your persistence. “And what, pray tell, do you believe?” he asked, his voice slightly mocking, but not entirely unamused.

You stepped closer, your voice steady, though there was an underlying edge to it. "I believe you’re hiding something. Hiding yourself."

Severus's gaze narrowed at the words, and for a moment, you thought he might say something sharp—something cutting, something that would send you away. But instead, he sighed heavily, almost imperceptibly, as though the weight of your words was starting to settle on him. He closed the book in his lap with an audible thud and stood slowly, eyes fixed on you.

“I’ve already said everything there is to say, Y/N. I’m not someone you can fix—I don’t want to be someone you think you can ‘fix.’”

You swallowed hard. He was back to his defensive, distant self again. "I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly. "I just… I don’t understand. You were different that night. You let me in—but now, it’s like none of it happened."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Of course you’d think that. You think it was something more than what it was. I don’t need your pity, Y/N. I don’t need—" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a lapse of judgment."

You felt the sting of his words like a slap to your face, and something deep inside of you recoiled. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice more insistent. “It wasn’t a lapse of judgment. I know it wasn’t.”

Severus’s eyes flashed dangerously. "And how would you know?" His voice dropped, becoming dangerously low. "You don’t know anything about me. You never have."

The anger in his words cut through you like a knife. But beneath the anger, you could hear something else. Fear. It was there, buried deep in the layers of his voice—fear of being known, of being seen for what he truly was.

“Maybe I don’t know everything,” you said, your voice softer now, more careful, "but I know you, Severus. I know what I saw. And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen."

He took a step toward you, closing the space between you both. His eyes bore into yours, a flicker of something darker in them, but also something more tender, almost imperceptible, just beneath the surface. "You should forget it," he said, his words quiet but forceful. "It doesn’t matter. I’m not the type of person you think I am. I don’t want your pity or your sympathy. I don’t—"

You didn’t let him finish. Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his arm. His body tensed, and he drew in a sharp breath, but you didn’t pull away.

"I don’t pity you, Severus," you said firmly, your hand remaining where it was. "I never have."

His gaze flickered down to your hand on his arm, and for a brief second, you thought he might push you away. But he didn’t. Instead, he took another breath and let it out slowly, his expression unreadable.

"You don’t understand," he muttered. "I’ve been alone for so long. And I’ve learned not to need anyone."

"I’m not asking you to need me," you whispered. "I’m asking you to stop pushing me away. I’m here… if you’d let me be."

For a long moment, there was no answer. Severus stood still, almost like a statue, his eyes fixed on the place where your hand still rested on his arm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a long, almost imperceptible sigh.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said softly, his voice raw in a way you hadn’t expected. "I don’t know how to let someone in… and I don’t know if I ever will."

And in that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t about him rejecting you, or pushing you away. It wasn’t about him being cruel or distant. It was about him being scared. Scared of getting close to anyone. Scared of letting someone see the cracks in the armor he’d built so carefully around himself.

You withdrew your hand slowly, but you didn’t turn away. You stood there, just… present, watching him.

“I don’t expect you to change, Severus,” you said quietly. “I just… I just don’t want you to be alone.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Severus looked at you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"Maybe one day," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

And with that, he turned away, retreating into the shadows of the common room, leaving you standing there with the echo of his words lingering in the space between you.

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