#I’m the real Severus Snape

[headmasterseverussnape]

Severus Snape, a small 16-year-old boy— too underweight and petite for his age, stood in his small bathroom glaring into the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Faster and faster, harder and harder he brushed. Brushing until he felt a metallic taste in his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks sallowish and his gums were bleeding as his mind was wracked with thoughts and memories he wished would just go away. His reflection glared back at him, his own dark lifeless eyes staring into his very soul that had been tormented for all his ‘pitiful’ life.

Oh, it was just another day. Just another day of being harassed and bullied by those ‘perfect little heroes’ known as the Marauders. His tormentors. It was another day he lost himself to the unbearable anger and pain that resided in the back of his dark little mind. Another day of causing disappointment to the one person he cared about, Lily Evans. Just another day of being treated less than a person because of his blood and class status as well as the way he looked.

He continued to glare at himself in the mirror. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated his reflection. He hated his father who mercilessly beat him and his mother on bad days, which was most days. He hated the marauders who tormented and harassed him for no good reason. He hated the teachers and staff who ignored him for not being popular, rich or a pureblood. He hated how he could SEE his poverty, his weakness, his filth. It sickened him.

His reflection was proof of his tainted blood. It was proof he would never be like the ‘heroic’ James Potter whom everyone seemed to love. It was proof he would never have the humor of Sirius Black, whose jokes could make anyone laugh even if they were utterly terrible. It was proof he would never be like Remus Lupin who was a coward but seen as shy and likable guy. It was proof he would never be like Peter Pettigrew who was pathetic in a way that added to the credibility of his tormentors, that made it seem so utterly impossible they could ever do any wrong.

He knew. He knew Lily Evans was taking a liking to them. He could see it in her eyes. Every time she’d glance at Potter or smile at Black’s jokes. He knew he was slowly losing her to them. It was only a matter of time and he knew he could do nothing to stop it.

“Heh.. they’re right... I must be pathetic... I can’t even hold onto one person… the one person that cared for me…”

Blood dripped down from his lips as he spoke, going into the sink’s drain and disappearing. He watched through the mirror as his blood fell to the bottom of the sink. He chuckled, how pathetic did he have to be? The grip he had on his toothbrush tightened, as he went back to brushing. Harder and harder and harder. Trying to get the filth to disappear. The filth no one but himself could see.

He dropped the toothbrush, as the memories of his torment pervaded his mind. He looked down at the sink as he spat out more of his blood, watching it disappear down the dark drain. Oh, how he wished he could follow.

He quickly glanced up at the mirror once more, looking through his dark messy and greasy hair. He clenched his jaw tightly, anger clouding his judgment.

Slamming his fist into the thing, he broke it and watched as it shattered into pieces. His knuckles were now bloody and bruised but he didn’t care. He’s had worse, why would he care about something as trivial as this?

“Pathetic. You’re so *pathetic*. So- so *weak!* It’s utterly humiliating-! No wonder *she* wants to be with them rather than you! You deserve this. They know it, she knows it- Heh. Even *you* know it.”

He slammed his fist into the broken glass again, letting his knuckles get scratched up and bruised even more. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. Not after the beatings and bullying he went through. This was- this was practically child’s play compared to what he’s already been through. He was numb to it.

[dungeonbat394]

Greetings from the Dungeons.

My main blog is: @headmasterseverussnape

Important:

I’m a sleep deprived autistic masc nonbinary individual. My pronouns are He/They however I don’t particularly care what you use for me as long as I know you’re addressing me.

This blog is primarily centered around Harry Potter, however; I do not support the insipid views of J.K. Rowling, whose opinions are as tiresome as they are misguided and have long since lost their merit.

I have very limited patience for ignorance. If my opinions offend your delicate sensibilities, I suggest you take the more prudent path of blocking me rather than engaging in futile disputes.

Important people to me: @sevsbestfriend @ollywander / @ollyvoile

@sneppu / @nagoo @i-crave-the-forbidden @thatlittlefangirl

@shadowdiyt @rainbowxfmuses

[headmasterseverussnape]

I can confirm this happened

Karkaroff pulling his ultimate move and T-posing Snape into a corner after he’s had enough of Snape avoiding him during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

[hannaxjo]

Alan Rickman, David Thewlis, Gary Oldman and all those are iconic in their roles in Harry Potter, but I’ll always be a bit sad about that casting, because having that ‘Marauders era’ cast be age appropriate would’ve just been so much better for the story.

Sirius wasn’t this old man who spent 12 years in Azkaban, no he got locked up at 21. He spent almost third of his life in a cell. He wasn’t this wise father figure to Harry, he was a reckless thirty-something who never really got the chance to mature past 21.

Remus was an exhausted, bone deep tired man carrying both physical and mental scars from the suffering he went through. Because he’s a werewolf, because of the war, because he lost all of his friends. And he’s only 33 when first introduced.

And Snape. Snape wasn’t an old bitter man who just hated everyone and enjoyed being antagonistic. He was 31 in Harry’s first year. He began to work for Voldemort as a teen, and as a double agent at 20. He’s a thirty-something bitter man, who never got to really live or make real connections. From Harry’s perspective he’s scary and intimidating, but really he’s just kinda…sad and pathetic. And then especially that scene where Snape is begging Dumbledore to help save Lily, and promising anything in return. (Because apparently Dumbledore needs something in return…for saving people.) He’s twenty. Barely out of his teens. Rickman was good in that scene, but having someone who actually looks twenty, would better show how scared, young, guilty and just desperate he was. That might not put Dumbledore in such a good light, though.

And then, the characters I think would’ve been the most important to cast age appropriately. And most people probably already agree and know who I’m talking about. James and Lily. They were 21 when they died. When Harry sees them in the mirror of Erised, they’re 10 years older than him. That’s the age difference Ron has with Bill. In that scene I might understand somewhat them being in their thirties, because that’s what Harry wants. He wants his life with his parents, he wants to have been raised by them. Though, I don’t know if the mirror could know what they might’ve looked like in their thirties, since they didn’t live that long. But then, in the cemetery when Voldemort’s wand spits the last spells cast, we see Lily and James as they were. 21. They’re telling their son to hold on just a moment longer. And they are 7 years older than him. In Deathly Hallows, Harry sees Voldemort kill them. They’re not this happy couple who’s got to love each other for a long time, only to have that happiness torn from them, no they started at Hogwarts ten years ago. They’re 21, and they’ve barely tasted that happiness. At the end of the book Harry talks to his parents. They comfort him and promise to stay with him, as he goes to die. Harry’s seventeen. James and Lily are four years older than him.

It wouldn’t have felt as nice. Harry being comforted by someone who looks almost his age. But it wasn’t nice. It was pretty tragic. Casting people who look 21, would’ve really made it land on the audience. It was a tragedy. They were barely adults.

[montrasity]

THIS IS GENUINELY INSANE 😭😭⁉️⁉️⁉️

[headmasterseverussnape]

THANK YOU NAGI 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sneep birfday aftermath let him fall asneep with his new animated snek plush

(i'll make something that isnt just a messy sketch eventually i swear)

Happy Birthday to the best boy! My precious, beloved Sneep.

[magical-gifts]

shall i say

keanu reeves

as my snape!fancast

….. and never speak of it again

[the-auguer]

Harry Potter and the Wonders of Stabbing Problems

Blood is spattered down Harry’s arm. It’s thick and brown, almost like the troll had mud trawling through its veins instead of proper blood. Harry’s hand and arm and robes and wand are caked in it, making the skin stuck underneath it itchy. It’s queasing something in Harry’s stomach to look at, but it’s a rather lot better than looking at the troll sprawled on the tile. 

Ron is paler than Harry had ever seen him, clutching his wand in his right hand and Harry’s unmolested robe sleeve in the other. His eyes are locked on the troll, and since Harry doesn’t fancy himself looking in that direction, he turns his head away from Ron. 

Cringing a bit, Harry rubs harshly at his arm. Flakes of blood strip from his skin, tugging harshly at the thin hairs on his arm. He switches to scratching at it instead. It fills under his nails and sticks to every finger. Harry gives up and tries to look for something more productive to do. His eyes catch in the corner, feeling strangely sheepish, he finally remembers why he’s here first place. “Er, are you alright, Hermione?” 

Still lying almost prone on the tile of the bathroom floor, Hermione seemed visibly torn between abject disgust and morbid fascination, with the former beginning to win out over the latter. 

“Fine,” she replies faintly. Harry’s a bit envious of how the floor under the sinks is supporting the majority of Hermione’s weight. He would be leaning on a wall right now, but Ron is leaning on Harry, so Harry is trapped. 

“That’s good,” Harry replies lamely. What does one say to someone when they’ve almost been killed by a troll? Especially when they’re a girl? 

Thankfully, Harry is not left to ponder the answer much longer than a dozen or so seconds because the door to the girl’s bathroom bursts open and Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape loom in the doorway. 

Quite belatedly, Harry hides his wand behind his leg and tries to discreetly wipe it clean on the back of his robes. Snape narrows his eyes and takes three great, striding steps towards Harry, seizing his wrist with long, pale fingers to expose the mess of Harry’s arm. Harry’s heart leaps up into his throat, his entire body to pulsing and trembling in beat with it. 

“And what,” he sneers down to Harry, “is this, pray tell?”

“My word,” McGonagall whispers. 

Harry tugs a bit at Snape’s grip, his heart seeming to climb further and further up his throat the longer Snape’s beetle-black eyes bore into him. 

Ron, his left hand still tangled in the fabric of Harry’s robe, finally turns away from the troll. He glares at Snape with all the ferocity he can muster. “It’s not Harry’s fault! We hadn’t seen Hermione at the feast, so we—”

Hermione draws herself up on the floor, just barely sitting up. “It’s my fault, Professor,” she interrupts, nearly breathless. “I’ve read all about trolls, you see, so I thought that I might—“

“Silence,” Snape hisses, his eyes not leaving Harry for a minute. “Potter. What did you do?”

McGonagall clears her throat crisply. “Honestly, Severus, let go of Mr. Potter this instant. As though a few first years could kill a troll with anything but immense luck.”

Reluctantly, Snape releases Harry’s arm. Ron yanks Harry backwards and away from Snape. Harry totters back, unsteady. 

Because he was immensely lucky, is the thing. He hadn’t meant to… he doesn’t feel bad about it but… he didn’t mean to. He just wanted to stop it. 

“Now Mr. Potter,” McGonagall started, the authority in her voice forcing Snape to finally step back far enough for Harry to breathe. “What happened here?”

“Hermione wasn’t at the feast,” Harry began quietly. “I— we heard that she was… in the bathroom and hadn’t heard about the troll. So I… I convinced Ron that we had to go get her.”

Harry swallowed. His mouth is extraordinarily dry and his eyes are starting to prick a little at the corners because Snape is still glaring down at him thunderously and McGonagall is frowning and Hermione is still pale on the floor and Ron still has Harry’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. Oh, and the blood is still caked over his sleeve and his fingers are shaking where they clamp on his wand and the troll is dead. Because he killed it. 

Harry sniffles a little, determine to leave the feeling behind. Everything will just become worse if Snape sees him tearing up. 

“We didn’t— I didn’t know the troll would be in the girls’ bathroom when we came to get her. It was s’pose to be in the dungeon, right? But it was and it was… it was swin-swinging it’s club at her and I didn’t— I didn’t—“

Harry pauses, trying to articulate what exactly when through his head when he jumped up onto the troll’s back. 

“That does not explain the situation, Potter,” Snape says lowly. McGonagall does not interject. 

“It’s not like we knew any bloody spells that could stop it, did we?” Ron says mutinously, scowling at Snape. “And we couldn’t just let her die.”

“Language, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall scolds. “Mr. Potter, if you could please finish your story.”

Harry takes a deep, deep breath, until his lungs are so full he can’t possibly inhale anymore air, and exhales it all out. “It— it was ju-just getting awful close to her so I, um. I jumped up on its back to stop him and my— my wand it…”

Holding up his arms, Harry mimics the motion of his hands wrapping around the troll’s head, his want hand high. He dips and jabs his wand in a vague stabbing motion. 

“It went into it’s eye. Like… really deep. And then it… it died.”

McGonagall and Snape are entirely silent for a handful of heartbeats. Too many heartbeats for Harry’s already frayed nerves. 

“Well,” McGonagall finally says, her voice wavering. “Well. There is nothing to be done for it then. We… shall move you three to the Hospital Wing. Just to make certain that everything is truly in order.” Her words become sharper and more confident as she regains steam. She strides over to Hermione and plucks her off the floor, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder as she guides her out the door of the girls’ loo. “Come along now, you three. Severus, inform the Headmaster, would you please?”

Snape’s eyes bore into Harry’s for what feels like an eternity before he slowly nods and sweeps from the room. McGonagall ushers them from the room, all three of them quiet and meek for the duration of their trip to the hospital wing. 

[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, but what will it take ‘till you believe in me the way that I believe in you?”

“I said I love you, that's forever. And this I promise from the heart, I couldn't love you any better. I love you just the way you are…” (“Just the way you are” by Billy Joel)

I will turn 40 years old in two months. 40 goddamn years on this planet…and only now - at my lowest point in my existence - I realised something. All my life, I’ve been hidden behind a mask. A mask, made of all my responsibilities and supposed duties, which I’ve put on from a far too young age. A mask, which helped me to hide all my ugly vulnerabilities and my true self from other people. A mask, which I thought would keep me going and going for lengths…hiding myself behind an “I’m fine” or a “No, it’s okay!”. A mask, which also came with the capability of erecting thick walls around my heart and soul…building a fort around the real Julia.

21 years ago, when I’ve found the perfect coping mechanism for myself in the love to Severus Snape, I started to allow myself being vulnerable in my little stories about Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules. Only Severus was permitted to know, what’s really going on behind this mask. He became the safe space for my deepest thoughts and emotions…the only place, where I’ve granted myself the right to express my own wishes.

And suddenly, after almost 40 years of existing in this world, I recognised, that there’s a drawbridge to my fort…and that there’s someone, who’s brave enough to knock on my door. Someone, who isn’t afraid of looking at the personality behind my mask. Throwing all my unpleasant traits at them, the defensive guards of my fort tried to scare them off in an almost desperate attempt…pushing them away to protect my raw core from being seen.

But my guards got propitiated by this someone. One after the other, they laid down their weapons and lowered the drawbridge ever so slightly…centimetres for centimetres…until someone slipped into my fort…getting a glimpse of the real Julia behind the mask. They made themselves comfortable within the black walls of my fort and switched a light on. This little light is shining through the eyes of my mask now…and it didn’t stay unnoticed.

All of a sudden, some people started to notice a change in my mood, my behaviour and my attitude. Even my children are wondering about the unfamiliar lighthearted happiness of their mother…despite the confines of my disease ME/CFS. Someone lit a fire in the darkest corners of my heart…and for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge my own wishes and hopes. Maybe, I don’t have to hide myself behind walls and a mask the whole time? Maybe, there’s even some beauty in the rawness of my soul? Maybe, I’ll be bold enough to act on my own dreams and desires for once? Maybe, this time, I’ll be brave enough to stand up for myself…and let myself heal. Maybe, for once, the mask will be discarded for someone.

As always, when I’m thinking of these complex urges to express myself through Severus and Jules, I commissioned my dear friend @madfantasy to help me by creating the perfect artwork for my ideas. Mani, you beautiful gem of a human being, you’ve outdone yourself with these masterpieces! When I explained my imagination of Jules, showing herself to others (here presented as an audience behind the green flames of the fireplace) only behind the alleged safety of her well worn mask, I wouldn’t have thought, that your realisation of this idea would even be possible like that. But again, it seems as if you’re capable of understanding the pictures on my mind. Thank you for your willingness to hold the paint brush…helping me to pour my emotions out into art. Feel hugged, my precious friend.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[headmasterseverussnape]

@sneppu @sevsbestfriend Staring at you Snautistically.

Yo I need Severitus/Snape creators in general to get more exposure in this fandom- and generally just post more :,)

Getting a lil jealous of the amount of amazing marauders fandom animatics, animations, artwork, writing, and other creations compared to our lil corner.

I remember following a bunch of them a couple months back but I feel like most of the hype might have died down? Especially w Snape gang.

If you’re an artist who mainly draws/writes/makes content abt Snape (bonus points if specifically Severitus) please reblog or comment!!! I need to find more of you!!!

(And I need to post more lol)

[headmasterseverussnape]

merry christmas professor<3🎄

Merry Christmas.

[potions-of-dark-devotion]

Concerning the Death Eater Cult Under Voldemort; The First Wizarding War

What the uneducated See: Nazi Comparisons

What I see: Manson Family Vibes

Just an observation….

[deatheaterv]

WELL DONE

pairing : prof!severus snape x prof!fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : as hogwarts’ newest professor, you’re facing lots of challenges, including snape’s constant sarcasm and interruptions. but behind his sharp remarks lies, a softer side you never expected to find.

it had only been a week since you’d joined hogwarts as the new professor of charms, and already you were beginning to wonder if you’d made the right decision. it wasn’t the students; they were surprisingly manageable, even the weasley twins. nor was it the workload, which, while demanding, was something you could handle.

no, the real problem was snape.

from the moment you arrived, professor severus snape had made it his personal mission to make your life as irritating as possible. whether it was his pointed remarks in staff meetings or the way he always seemed to find a reason to hover near your desk in the staffroom, he was relentless.

“professor,” snape’s deep, clipped voice broke through your thoughts as you sat at the staffroom table, grading essays.

you didn’t bother looking up. “what's now, snape?”

“you’ve spelled levitation incorrectly on your board during every third-year lesson this week,” he said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “i suppose precision isn’t a priority in charms anymore.”

you glanced up, narrowing your eyes at him. “i don’t recall asking for your feedback,” you said.

he tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “consider it a professional courtesy,” he said, the smirk playing at his lips enough to make your fingers twitch.

you sighed, setting down your quill. “do you have anything better to do, or is pestering me just your new hobby?”

snape leaned against the chair opposite you, his arms crossed. “it's not pestering, professor. i’m merely ensuring that the students receive… adequate instruction.”

“how kind of you,” you replied dryly, your gaze locking with his. “and here i thought you were just bored.”

his lips quirked into a small, humorless smile. “boredom has nothing to do with it,” he said, his voice softer now but no less irritating. “though i must admit, your reactions are… amusing.”

you rolled your eyes and returned to your grading, determined not to give him the satisfaction of another retort.

but, of course, snape wasn’t finished. “how are you finding hogwarts, professor?” he asked after a moment, his tone feigning polite curiosity.

“aside from certain professors?” you said, not looking up. “quite enjoyable.”

“mm,” snape murmured, his voice laced with dry amusement. “i’ll try not to take that personally.”

you finally glanced up, meeting his gaze. “oh, please do.”

to your surprise, his smirk softened slightly, and for a brief moment, he looked almost... fond. but the moment passed quickly, and his usual aloof expression returned.

“very well,” he said, pushing off from the chair. “i’ll leave you to your marking. do try not to misspell anything else.”

you huffed as he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

later that evening, as you made your way to your quarters, you found yourself thinking about snape. sure, he was annoying, but there was something oddly… engaging about him. the way he always seemed to seek you out, the way his sarcasm was never truly cruel, and the way his dark eyes softened, just slightly, when he looked at you.

you shook your head, dismissing the thought. there was no way snape was anything more than an annoyance. and yet, as you opened the door to your quarters, you found a small, neatly folded piece of parchment sitting on your desk.

unfolding it, you saw a single line, written in an elegant, precise hand:

you’ve improved. well done.

you stared at the note, your heart skipping for reasons you didn’t quite understand. and for the first time since you’d arrived at hogwarts, you found yourself looking forward to seeing snape again.

[headmasterseverussnape]

Hm. For some reason.. this does seem like it would be somewhat relaxing? Like. Taking a nap in a hot tub..

huhuhu look at this little Sneep test animation I made!! He's being brewed while he sleeps!😭he's so baby in there. Not me finally being motivated to animate again for the first time in 10 years purely because I felt The Overwhelming Need™ to boil Sneeps at 3am. (if you click on it, it's nicer quality! stare at the Sneep!)

u could say that i was,,,, cookin

[maxdibert]

Alright, let’s dive into the dumpster fire that the Marauders fandom has become last years and threw any sense of canon or character integrity out the window. Because let’s be real, the way this fandom has twisted the characters of the Marauders and the Death Eaters, all while turning Severus Snape into some one-note “creepy stalker,” is embarrassing. The fandom seems obsessed with scrubbing characters clean, romanticizing abusers, inventing tragic backstories for literal sociopaths, and piling up headcanons that turn a few lines in canon into fully fleshed-out, fanon-only OCs. And somehow, the only character who gets relentlessly dragged and demonized is Severus Snape—a character who has actual complexity and trauma. It’s hypocritical, classist, and downright gross.

Let’s start with Severus. Canon Snape is a guy who came from nothing: poor background, abusive father, dead-end town. He didn’t fit into the wizarding world, was relentlessly bullied by privileged Marauders, and still somehow managed to survive and make something of himself. But instead of acknowledging any of that, the fandom loves to reduce him to this “creepy obsessive” stereotype. People act like he spent every waking moment pining for Lily and never did anything else, as if that’s all his character is. Never mind the fact that he was actively trying to get out of a miserable life, or that he was, you know, bullied on a daily basis by James and Sirius, who had wealth, status, and freedom to do whatever they wanted. Nope, to the Marauders fandom, Snape is just the “weird stalker”—because acknowledging his struggles would mean admitting that their golden boys were actually kind of awful.

Meanwhile, the same people are out here bending over backward to make people like Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and Regulus Black look like misunderstood anti-heroes. Let’s be clear: in canon, Barty Crouch Jr. was a straight-up torturer, Evan Rosier died laughing as he fought Aurors, and Regulus was a kid raised with a silver spoon who only started doubting Voldemort when he realized he’d been signed up as snake chow. But no, fanon has turned these guys into “tragic, complex Slytherins” who were “just trying to survive.” It’s like they’re desperate for some tortured prince narrative, so they invent personalities out of thin air to give us this dreamy aesthetic of sad, beautiful Death Eaters who “didn’t really want to be evil.” Apparently, actually following the text is too much to ask when you’ve got fanon fantasies to uphold.

Regulus Black, in particular, has become this absurd fanon martyr. In canon, Regulus was a kid indoctrinated into pureblood ideology, who joined the Death Eaters without much hesitation. Maybe he had a change of heart eventually, but it wasn’t out of some grand moral revelation; he just realized Voldemort’s loyalty was to himself alone. Yet, according to the current fandom, Regulus is some misunderstood hero who was only “pretending” to go along with Voldemort and was “forced” into his choices. They’ve built this tragic romance around a character who, in the actual books, doesn’t have even half this depth. This Regulus in fanon is practically an OC at this point, and people cling to this made-up version of him so hard that they’ll defend it like it’s canon. It’s hilarious, and it’s also just plain wrong.

And let’s talk about the Marauders themselves. In canon, James and Sirius were rich, spoiled brats who spent their school years bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their world. They were kids with every privilege, and they used it to torment people like Snape, who had nothing. But the Marauders’ fandom has turned them into these fluffy, “good-hearted” rebels who just made “a few mistakes.” I’m sorry, but nearly killing someone as a “prank” is a bit more than a mistake. Yet people will ignore that or wave it away as “boys will be boys” just to keep up the illusion that James and Sirius were lovable scamps. It’s maddening—and it’s also classist as hell. They erase all the ugly realities of the Marauders’ behavior and then turn around and judge Snape for being “obsessive” and “weird” when he was just trying to survive in a world stacked against him.

The classism in this fandom is so blatant it’s laughable. Snape is written off as creepy and unworthy of sympathy because he didn’t have a cushy upbringing or the social standing to make him likable. Meanwhile, characters like Barty and Regulus, who came from wealthy pureblood families, get excused and romanticized to no end. It’s like the fandom is saying, “Well, Snape deserved it because he was poor and awkward, but the rich kids? They’re just misunderstood.” It’s the kind of privilege blindness that makes you wonder if people actually read the books or if they’re just projecting their own biases onto the characters.

And let’s not forget the army of new OCs the Marauders fandom has invented just to justify this headcanon universe (Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, that that Pandora no one knows why suddenly appears here lol) You’ve got random “best friends” for Sirius, unnamed Slytherins who magically have no ties to pureblood supremacy, and love interests for Regulus who supposedly saw the “real” him. All these characters are based on nothing more than a few throwaway lines, yet people have fleshed them out to a level that they’re practically new characters in the universe. It’s like they need this entourage of made-up people to back up their version of the Marauders and Death Eaters because, without them, their headcanons would fall apart. And all of this, while they keep painting Snape as this creepy loner with no real friends or worth. The hypocrisy is unreal.

At the end of the day, the Marauders fandom has taken a bunch of characters with clear flaws and complexities and rewritten them into these sanitized, tortured souls while dumping all their scorn onto Snape. They’ll go out of their way to redeem a literal torturer like Barty Crouch Jr. or turn Regulus into some tragic hero, but they can’t bring themselves to even consider Snape’s trauma or the systematic abuse he endured. It’s all about maintaining this fantasy where their favorite characters are perfect and untouchable, even if it means twisting canon and ignoring the ugly truths about class, privilege, and abuse that is reflected into the story. And that, honestly, just makes the fandom look shallow, hypocritical, and completely disconnected from the reality.

[grant-it]

The Weary Soul Rejoices

You and Severus spend Christmas Eve night together while tip toeing around your attraction to each other.

Word Count: 4.3k CW- student reader, unestablished relationship, slight angst, forbidden mutual pining

The Slytherin dorms had a tendency to be cold, especially on a winter night like this one. Sitting in front of the fire was the only place you wanted to be right now- mainly because it’s the only place you felt warm and welcome. It’s Christmas Eve, and the majority of all the students have left until the semester resumes. More Slytherins lingered in the castle compared to the other houses, yet it was still like a ghost town in the dorms. It was nice though, usually this place is loud and chaotic but tonight it’s calm and comforting.

This will be your seventh Christmas Eve sitting in front of this exact fireplace. You didn’t really have a family to go back to for the holiday. Estranged from your father and your mother long dead, it’s never a hard decision whether or not stay at school. You let out a sigh while staring into the fire. The pops and crackles have hypnotized you for who knows how long. The realization of this being your last Christmas at Hogwarts begins to set in. Where will you be next year? Perhaps in a place of your own. Merlin forbid you have to spend a bleak and depressing Christmas with your father, never speaking a word to each other unless necessary. Soft footsteps coming down the stairs break you out of your trance.

“Hey.”

Daphne emerges from the steps that lead to our rooms. She’s bundled up in her scarf and gloves, a light pink covering her cheeks. Daphne has always been kind to you ever since you punched a boy who was trying to hex her little sister.

“Me and the others are going to sneak down to the quidditch pitch, they’re already waiting outside. Hopefully at this point, Snape will be up for the night so, it will be pretty easy getting out of the dungeons. Gonna come with?”

You Ignore the invitation.

“Why the quidditch pitch? It’s freezing outside.” You ask, subconsciously curling up closer to the fire. She shrugs, tying her scarf tighter. “The snow from this morning is untouched down there, guess they want to make snow angels or something to celebrate Christmas.” She scoffs. “I’m just going because I feel as if I’m losing my mind. There’s absolutely nothing fun to do here over break.” She tilts her head, noticing you not moving to follow her. She purses her lips and starts walking to exit the commons. “Well, have a nice rest of your night! I’m kind of jealous. Being in the snow will be fun for like, five minutes.” She mumbles the last part before stealthy leaving, trying to not make any noise. Even though the door itself is loud enough to tip off anyone nearby.

A part of you feels like you should join them. You don’t particularly get along with the other students that have stayed, yet the lot of you were friendly enough. During your time at Hogwarts you never made any real friends- most likely from your lack of trying. But, making snow angels after curfew on the quidditch pitch-that you’ve never even stepped foot on- does seem like a nice send off to your last Christmas here.

 It’s your last Christmas here.

It’s a sobering thought. With one final look into the fire, you stand up and head to your room to bundle up as much as you can. Wrapping your large grey and green scarf around you, slipping on your gloves and an extra cloak, you head for the door. Each step that brings you closer the urgency from just a few minutes ago fades away. What if by the time you get down there, they’re already coming back? And it’s freezing outside, you don’t necessarily own the correct clothes for rolling around in the snow. You glance back at the fireplace and puff out your cheeks. It’s not even that you really want to go with them, you just want to do something with your last Christmas Eve. All you usually do is mope around like a loser. You stand at the exit to the common room for a while, contemplating. Maybe you could sneak down to the kitchens, steal some champagne? If there even is any. Maybe you could convince one of the house elves to get you some. Shaking your head, you decide to leave anyway. “Let us see where the night takes us.” You say out loud, before quietly stepping into the hallway. When you are fully out the door, you turn around as the large stone snake slithers back down into the floor, hiding the door once again. You cringe at the noise that echoes through the dungeons. You wait for a moment to hear out for Professor Snape's footsteps, but they never come.

You wandered through the halls of the castle, time slipping away from you. Your thoughts keeping wrapping back around to Professor Snape. As your thoughts often do, to be honest. During your fifth year he started to catch your eye more. First of all because his face is quite pretty, and second- you relate to him. Before all of that it was mainly just intimation and a smidge of fear. His presence has always been extremely intense. He doesn’t light up a room but you always know when he’s entered one. You felt drawn to him, your eyes always searching him out when he could be nearby. It’s safe to say you will forever be grateful to excel in potions- the extra attention you get because of it always makes your heart skip a beat. The fact that he is the head of your house is also a bonus. You wonder how he’s spending his Christmas Eve. Probably the same way he spends every other night, slouching over his desk, handing out failing grades like its candy. He’s bathed in candle light, with a calm expression on his face. Though that’s a bit hard to imagine. Not because you don’t think he can’t be calm- you’ve just never seen him like that. Maybe he’s listening to music, perhaps even muggle music. Snape seems like a Nat King Cole kind of man. That last part is a reach though, Snape isn't the type to indulge in anything remotely festive. You let out a giggle at the thought, shoving your hands in your pockets. You've stopped in front of a window that goes all the way up to the ceiling. Through the dark you can make out the quidditch pitch on the horizon- as well as Daphne and her friends walking back up. You feel a small tug at your heart.

Maybe you don’t like to indulge in anything festive either.

All you did these past years is sit alone in front of that fire place, attending the Christmas feast the next day because you had to, then going back to being alone. Even on your very last Christmas Eve at Hogwarts you prefer to walk around a deserted castle instead of spending it with people you could call your friends- that is if you tried hard enough to actually talk to them. You’ve let a few stray tears fall past your eyes, not even noticing you had started to cry.

“Fuck..” You whisper, sniffling as you dry off your face with your glove.

“What are you doing?” A low voice from behind you makes you jump out of your skin.

“Merlin!” You whip around, putting your hand over your heart. Professor Snape stands before you, eyebrow raised at your reaction. He was halfway in the shadows, emerging from an empty classroom.

“You scared me half to death, Snape!” You close your eyes, calming down from the jump scare. Looking back up at him, you feel your face heat up. You had just been thinking about him and what he was up to, you’ve practically manifested him. You clear your throat, unable to stop the blush from spreading all over your face. You’re in some deep trouble though, no doubt. It’s way past curfew and you’re wandering about the halls.

“I was just talking a walk. Needed some air, I guess.” You sniff again, hoping any signs of your tears are gone. He tilts his head at you, staring deeply into your eyes. You have to look away from him-the intense stare making your heart beat faster. He lets out a large sigh, taking a few steps closer to you.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, begrudgingly. You chew the inside of your cheek, looking back outside the window.

“I’m not upset. Not really.” You put your hands back in your pockets, glancing at him. “You’re not going to get onto me about being out past curfew?” You question.

“It’s Christmas Eve. And you were crying. I’m feeling uncharacteristically…generous.” He draws out the word generous, making you shiver. Hopefully he thinks from the cold. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Professor Severus Snape? Being generous?

“Thank you, Sir.” You say, looking back out the window. Snape follows your gaze. Thankfully, your fellow students are out of view now. The two of you find yourself in a comfortable silence, and you sneak a look at him. His side view could very well be your favorite way to observe him. His hooked nose, the way his hair falls down around his ears, and the way you can look into his eyes without meeting them. It’s not the usual perspective you get to experience. Suddenly his eyes move over, catching you staring. But you don’t look away.

“Professor, if you don’t mind me asking, do you celebrate Christmas?”

He is the one to break eye contact, looking up into the night sky. For a moment, you think he’s chosen to ignore your question entirely. Just as you began to beat yourself up in your mind, he speaks.

“Perhaps…not in the way others traditionally do.”

You slowly nod your head. That’s a very typical non-answer answer that he would give. He seems to notice your dissatisfaction, and rolls his eyes.

“I don’t do the silly decorations, dreadful caroling, or watch those foul excuses for a movie where they all realize the, lack for a better word, magic of Christmas.” He sneers.

You get the urge to laugh, but settle on just smiling.

“I want to agree with you, but l fear I love the silly decorations.”

He looks back down at you and scrunches up his nose, as if he’s smelling something repulsive. Making a noise of disagreement, he puts his hands behind his back.

“Soon the holiday will be over and we will all be better for it.” He mumbles. Your smile fades a bit at his comment, and you look down at your shoes.

“It’s my last year here. And I don’t usually give a care for the holiday but now that it’s my last one at Hogwarts it feels…different. More sad.” You admit. You can feel the tears begin to build up again, and you dry your eyes before they can spill over.

“It... was always going to come to an end.” Snape says in such a quiet voice, it’s practically a whisper.  

“I know, I know.” You take a deep breath in and out and compose yourself. You hate the feeling of crying, and you're sure he doesn't want to deal with you crying either. You both enter another bout of silence- this one filled with a bit of tension.  

He crosses his arms. “It seems there's no helping it.” He says to himself, before turning on his heel and starting down the hallway. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, opening your mouth to question him before he cuts you off.

            “Come along, it’s getting close to midnight.”

Disappointment settles into your chest. You should have known a peaceful moment between you and him wouldn’t last very long. Now he’s going to escort you right back to the dormitory, back to being alone. Trudging along after him, you both descend further down into the castle.

Reaching the dungeons once more, you realize he isn’t taking you back to your dorm, but to his office. You pick up your pace to walk next to him.

            “Professor? What are we doing?” You ask, not being able to help the smile growing on your face.

            “Celebrating Christmas.”

Soon you’re at his office and he opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. You’ve been in his office a handful of times before. All because of a detention here and there but that’s extremely normal for anyone who’s had the luck of having him as a Professor. You take in the space. Nothing has ever changed. It’s a good-sized room, in the shape of a semicircle. Enough for the sole reason of working at a desk. Books and jars of various ingredients line the walls, and upon his desk in neat stacks were student’s papers waiting to be graded. Only a few candles are lit this evening giving the room a cozy glow. Even though the walls are all bookshelves, stacks of books overflow onto the floor. And there is something tucked in the corner that you have never noticed before. A record player.

“Sit.” He says before disappearing behind a door that you assume leads to his living quarters. You take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. It’s odd being in here without the feeling of being a deer in headlights, fearing whatever detention he has lined up. You look out the window on the back wall, the soft light of the moon seeping into the room. A gentle flurry of snow has begun.

He reemerges, and as you suspected you catch a glimpse of what looks like a small flat before he shuts the door again. A tray with two cups of tea float onto the desk.

“We’re having tea?”

“One cup. Then you go back to your room.” He says, before sitting down in his office chair across from you. He grabs a cup and sets it down in front of him, relaxing into his seat. You do the same and clutch the warm cup in your hands, an unmistakable joy beginning to fill your body. You’re very happy you decided to leave the dorm tonight.

“Thank you for the tea, Professor.”

He nods before taking a sip. You wonder if this is his idea of cheering you up. Or perhaps he also didn’t want to be alone when the clock strikes midnight.

“I use to love Christmas as a child. Before a gloom took over my house.” You say. You’re not sure why, but the urge to confine in him grows with every passing minute. Perhaps it’s because he’s actually acting like a human being with feelings instead of just a cold professor. Another part of you thinks maybe he knows how you feel.

“I’ve never loved Christmas. I had an aversion for it in childhood. It wasn’t until I became a student here at Hogwarts did it become tolerable.” He frowns. You wished to know why he hated Christmas as a kid. But, you usually know when to not cross a line.

“I’m lucky that I have good memories of Christmas from when I was younger. Yet, it’s just moments. Mostly involving my mother before she got sick. Her watching me open a gift she probably got me months beforehand. She’d pinch my frozen cheeks when I came in from the snow.” You smile into your tea. “She came from a muggle family. My father didn’t, so he never really cared for Christmas. But I think he came around to the idea after marrying her. Then all the sudden she was gone, and honestly so was he.” Looking back up to him, he already had his eyes on you. Flustered, you sip your tea. “Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.”

He looks away.

“Tis the season.” He drawled out. You try to find a way to change the subject, ashamed of your oversharing.

“You said you started “tolerating” Christmas after becoming a student, why?”

His finger circles the rim of his tea cup- and you actively avoid watching him do so.

“I suppose it was forced upon me. It’s difficult to avoid the holiday in a place like this.” His smooth voice is like music to your ears.

“This school does ooze Christmas spirit. With the lovely, silly decorations.” You joke, and to your surprise the corners of his mouth raise into a soft smile.

“Agreed. Ooze is a perfect word to describe it.”

You laugh, and his eyes meet yours. You feel your face heat up again, and you wish with all your might for it to stop. His eyes roam all over your face, obviously taking note of your flustered appearance.

"Why didn't you go with the other students tonight?" He says, eyebrows furrowed. His question surprises you, mostly because you thought Daphne and the others actually got away with it.

"How did you know they had left?"

He smirks. "You're not usually one to ask foolish questions. I had spotted them walking back from the very window you were crying at."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You know practically everything that goes on in the castle as soon as it happens."

"That I do."

You start to piece this new information together.

"Professor, how long had you been standing there? I mean...were you behind me that whole time and I just didn't notice?" The question slips out of your lips. He freezes up- his smirk falling.

"And...what were you doing in that classroom?" You ask another question. You aren't thinking before you speak, all the dots connecting too quickly in your head. He had heard you coming and hid in a classroom? To avoid you? To...watch you?

"I thought you were Madam Pomfrey. I'm late on my pepperup restock so I thought it would be best to...avoid her." He looks away from you and sips his tea.

"Oh." You aren't convinced.

It's a sight to behold- he's hiding it, but he is definitely blushing.

"If you saw Daphne and her friends, why didn't you go get them?"

You're digging yourself a grave, but it feels too late to stop now. He doesn't speak, weighing his words. His eyes glance over to you, then back to his tea.

"I decided you were in need of my attention."

Feeling like your soul is leaving your body, you take a sip of tea.

"I appreciate you cheering me up instead of busting them." You say, trying to play it cool and act as if you didn't just catch your Professor in a lie about watching you from the shadows. You wished you found it creepy, but unfortunately it's quite the opposite.

"They will still be given punishment come the 26th. I'll let them have a day to think they got past me."

"Oh Professor, that's just evil." You tease. He shrugs, smirking once again.

"Breaking curfew and leaving the castle after said curfew. That's enough to earn polishing every piece of silver in the Great Hall."

"Have you forgotten I'm breaking curfew as well?" You raise your eyebrow.

"I have you here with me." He brushes off your question. Unsure as to why exactly, those words make your stomach flutter.

Neither of you know what to say next. The two of your awkwardly sip your tea.

"I think it's nice you'll let them enjoy their Christmas. Thats the real reason you're waiting to reveal you caught them, isn't it?" You ask, his eyes sliding back over to you.

He doesn't respond, which is an answer enough.

"I won't tell anyone." You smirk.

He clears his throat at your comment and looks at the clock.

He suddenly gets out of his chair, and you start to think you've said something wrong, but he makes his way over to the record player stashed in the corner.

“This,” He takes a record from a shelf. “Is how I celebrate Christmas.”

He sets the record down, and lowers the needle. The satisfying crackle fills the room as he comes back to sit across from you. With a bated breath you stare at him. He seems embarrassed as he refuses to meet your eyes. The soft music starts, and you almost gasp.

            Nat King Cole. O Holy Night.

“I’m not a religious man but, my mother loved this song. She would play it once every year before she passed. It’s…the only thing we ever did for Christmas.”

You were speechless, and decided to stay that way. You both sat and watched the snow fall outside his window, listening to the dulcet tones. You could tell Snape was deep in thought, as were you. You had tried to not let your thoughts linger too much on your mother this year, to no avail. The deep melancholic longing never gets any less painful. Every time Christmas comes around you feel the hole your mother has left in your heart a bit more. She was such a beacon of light. Even though your father can be cold and cruel, you know it’s because he misses her. As do you.

  Your eyes moved from the snow, to Snape. You watched the back of his head and felt as if you were in the presence of a completely different person. You didn’t know that he also lost his mother. You’re honored that he is even sharing this with you, a topic that you are certain he does not speak of to anyone. As if he felt your gaze upon him, he turned around. Your eyes didn’t break contact as the song reached its end. He had a vague look of pain on his face, no doubt a part of him going back in time to his mother. And you could tell he was fighting the uncomfortableness of showing this side of himself to you. His hand was resting on the table and you had an overwhelming urge to reach over and grab it. Just as you slowly started lifting your hand from your lap, the song had ended. His eyes flickered down to the movement of your hand before he looked away from you. He rose out of his chair, turning off the music before the next song could start.

Sheepishly, you returned your hand to your lap. As he was putting the record away, you glanced at the clock. Two minutes past midnight. Christmas Day.

Snape walked to stand in front of the window, his back facing you. Just as you were about to speak, he turns around.

"Time... doesn't wait. It violently moves forward. Things will constantly change until your last breath. You must also move forward, and accept it." Snape slowly begins to walk toward you. "You can be sad, like how you are tonight. But you cannot dwell."

He's now standing in front of you, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him. The sudden monologuing catches you off guard- his words hitting you like a slap in the face.

"The worst thing you can do for yourself is stay stagnant in your grief. Grow with it." He puts his hand on your shoulder. You take in a sharp breath.

"What if I can't?" you ask, looking up at him desperately. He shakes his head, and lets his hand fall back down to his side.

"You must." He says firmly.

As you take in his words, he goes back around his desk and starts to put your tea glasses back on the tray.

"Have you, Professor? Grown with your grief?" You stare at the ground. He's paused what he's doing and you know his gaze is on you.

"Look at me." His gravelly voice instantly makes your head raise and your eyes cut over to him. He has a serious look in his eyes and you fear you've finally overstepped.

"That shouldn't matter to you. Heed my words. You cannot go through life passing things up because you're still in the past." He says with a sharpness, before his expression softens just the slightest.

"You spend too much time in your own head. Come out."

You stare at him in awe. He's right. You've spent so much time feeling sorry for yourself, the past seven years have flown by. And you had nothing to show for it. You don't go out with friends to make angels in the snow.

He's trying to tell you to not end up like him.

You stand up and he straightens his posture. You're seeing him in a whole new light and you can't look away.

“Merry Christmas, Professor Snape.” You whisper.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispered back. Neither of you move.

You wish you could cross so many boundaries that stand between the two of you.

“Thank you for this.” You finally say. He gives you a slight nod before striding around his desk to the door.

“Now...off to bed with you. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with the Christmas-stricken children tomorrow.” He deadpanned. You let out a small laugh and shake your head. The way he can switch up his mood is astonishing.

He holds the door open for you as you give him one last smile, venturing out into the hallway. You don’t even make it three steps before he speaks behind you.

“Thank you.”

You turn back and look at him. He stood in the middle of the doorway watching you, not a flicker of emotion showing on his face anymore.

"You know...I don't think we ever stop growing. Like you said, things are constantly changing." You bite your lip as if to keep in your next sentence.

"Maybe I'll come visit you for Christmas next year and we can do this again."

The corners of his mouth lift into a wistful smile.

"Maybe."

Giving him a small wave, you turn and continue back to your dorm. That isn’t exactly how you thought you’d spend your Christmas Eve, but it’s better than you could’ve even imagined.

When you get back, and you cozy up into bed, you feel excitement for what the next day will bring. You hadn't felt that way in a long, long time.

           Oh, night divine.