Chapter Text
This one would be the easiest. In the first round, he could slip by unnoticed, all he had to do was fake it a little at the start and then run when no one was watching.
He trained every morning, waking up as soon as the sun rose and running across the Spinners’ End until the sky turned shades of red and pink. Lily often came to make him stop, forcing him to take an unnecessary break. Now, no one interrupted his training anymore. Lily hadn’t shown up since that day at the lake.
He wouldn’t let himself get depressed over it, not now, not when the Hunt was so close. Only a week away. One week until every unbonded omega would be hunted like helpless prey by arrogant, self-important alphas. Savage, disgusting alphas, without a shred of restraint or respect for omegas.
“Severus, it’s getting dark, come inside already,” his mother called, walking towards him wrapped in a worn-out black shawl. “You’ve been running all day.”
“You know why I do it,” he answered sharply.
“You won’t die from being marked, Severus,” his mother replied, grimacing. She didn’t understand. “If you keep this up, you’ll have no energy left when you go back to Hogwarts.”
Tomorrow afternoon, he’d be at Hogwarts, just a few days before the Hunt.
“Come inside, Severus. I won’t say it again,” his mother ordered, more frustrated than before.
Knowing he couldn’t ignore her any longer, he followed her in silence, his eyes taking in the dark, battered streets, the empty, crumbling houses. If not for the faint light, they could have been mistaken for abandoned. Everything in this place was so bleak; the stench of damp and factory smoke only made it worse.
At least his mother had cast a few charms around their house, secretly, of course, so his father wouldn’t find out. They kept the place clean, odour-free, and warm. Severus was sure his father knew, but said nothing; he probably didn’t like the nauseating stench or the biting cold outside either.
“Sit down,” his mother said, as she went to serve dinner.
The dining area was just a small table with three chairs beside the kitchen. There used to be four, but the fourth had been thrown out to make more space. Severus sat in the corner, as far away from his father as possible. The man was reading the newspaper, Severus wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to pick a fight, but it was better not to take chances. The last thing he needed was a beating, not with the Hunt only a week away.
His mother returned, placing plates of stew and rice on the table, then fetched a small jug of water and a couple of glasses. She used to set out napkins and a variety of cutlery, but after Tobías’s insults, she’d stopped bothering.
They ate in silence, the only sound the scrape of cutlery against ceramic as they tried to eat every last grain of rice, though it was never enough to fill them. Severus was used to it by now. He’d make sure to eat better at Hogwarts; he needed the energy to run.
Dinner ended when Tobías stood, leaving his plate on the table for his mother to clear. Severus took his own plate to the sink but didn’t touch his father’s, his mother would only complain if he did. Then he went to his room in silence, making sure everything was packed and ready for tomorrow.
He went over a mental checklist, repeating it five times just in case. This was his final year at Hogwarts, but his first as a trainee.
He wasn’t excited.
The next day passed in a blur until it was time to leave. His mother said goodbye in the kitchen, where she was chopping vegetables for the day’s soup.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispered with a smile that tried to be reassuring, but Severus could see how tense and forced it was. “It’s much better if you know the alpha,” she added, her voice trembling slightly.
Severus shivered. His mother didn’t understand, she was a beta, like most of the magical world. But she must have heard the horror stories. She was living one herself, without even being an omega.
“Thank you, Mother,” Severus said, and she pulled him into a trembling embrace. She was frightened too.
He left the house, his trunk rattling over the uneven ground and its many dents echoing softly.
The sky was grey and dull, always the same, thanks to the factories and their endless toxic vapours. Severus hated it.
“Oi,” came Tobías’s rough voice from beside his rusted old truck. On that side, there were no white, impossibly blooming roses like the ones his mother had planted.
“What do you want?” Severus asked, not moving closer, wary of the potential threat that was Tobías.
His father looked him up and down, as he always did, searching for something different, something less him. Severus loathed how that look made him feel so small.
“Don’t let them catch you,” Tobías said finally, turning his attention back to his truck.
Severus hesitated. “I won’t.”
A short, amused snort from Tobías was all the farewell he got, and the end of their brief exchange.
—
Arriving at Hogwarts was stressful. He didn’t want to see anyone now that they knew what he was. He couldn’t even stand Lily’s distant, pitying gaze, as though Severus had suddenly turned into some fragile prey who needed looking after.
He hadn’t. No matter what that second-gender revelation a year ago had said, this didn’t change anything.
“Well, look who we’ve got here, little Omega Snivellus,” Potter’s voice called out from afar. They truly couldn’t leave him alone for a single moment. “Looking forward to the run?”
“Bet he’s hoping some pure-blood Alpha will mark him,” Black sneered, every word designed to make him furious. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, Sniv? A nice mark on your neck?”
Black’s deranged eyes flicked to his throat, and a flash of alarm ran through Severus. He stepped back a few paces, forcing himself to stay calm. He had to ignore them. Those idiots had become all bark and no bite since the revelation — they’d act out, say vile things, but go no further. Their stupid Gryffindor pride wouldn’t allow them to actually harm a supposedly defenceless Omega. As if Severus were one.
“Come on, Sniv, if you’re cute enough I might even think about marking you,” Black mocked with a vicious grin. “Let’s see that neck, shall we? See if it’s worth it.”
Those words stung worse than any of their old taunts, at least back then he’d been mocked as an equal. Now, they looked at him as if he were property.
In a split second, Severus drew his wand and sent a stinging hex at each of their faces, quick, precise, merciless. The moment the spells struck, he bolted, sprinting down the corridors until the echo of his own footsteps blurred into silence. He wasn’t going to risk a repeat of last time, when Potter had filled the air with that sharp, bitter Alpha scent that made every Omega and Beta in the hallway falter. Naturally, the arrogant bastard had to be a dominant Alpha.
Severus had nearly buckled then, every nerve in his body screaming to yield, to appease, to submit. The instinct had been vile, treacherous — something that belonged to a creature, not to him. But he’d kept his head high, meeting Potter’s glare without flinching, without bowing, without breaking.
It had cost him, though. The ache in his chest, the burn under his skin, none of it had faded easily. Even now, the memory clung to him like smoke.
None of that mattered now.
The stupid Hunt, the ritual every Omega was forced to undergo to “find” a mate.
The first one took place during the final year at Hogwarts, one year after the revelation. Two weeks after returning, all the students were divided: Alphas and Omegas separated once they arrived.
Severus and the other Omegas were led into a walled courtyard deep in the forest. The stone walls were tall and rough, the ground flat and hard beneath their feet. There was no roof, only the open, cloudless sky above. The door they entered through was small and tucked in one corner, while a large double gate loomed at the far end, the exit they’d have to reach.
It was a pen, really. A space to gather the Omegas, to count them like livestock, and worst of all, to let them be watched like merchandise.
High above the walls stood a dark wooden platform. The Alphas stood there, observing them, pointing at Omegas they liked or laughing at others.
“You know, that frown won’t help you,” came a teasing voice beside him. “Not if you want to catch a good Alpha.”
“Even if I wanted to, Charity, that wouldn’t be possible. Not with such a pathetic selection of Alphas,” Severus replied dryly, glancing at her outfit with distaste. “You look ridiculous.”
Charity wore a frilly white dress with lace and ruffles, white heels, and stockings. She wasn’t the only one dressed like that, several other Omegas had chosen similar attire. A very specific kind of Omega.
“You’re cruel,” she said, though she sat beside him anyway. “Not all Alphas are bad. Aurora’s coming for me.”
That was precisely what he meant. The prettily dressed ones, the ones who’d “found” an Alpha already, had someone to chase them. Pretty Omegas, or those with status high enough to promise a respectable bond.
“Evan said he might go after you,” she murmured, not looking at him as she twirled a strand of hair. “You only need to give him the signal.”
Severus glanced at the blond on the platform, laughing with Mulciber and Avery. Evan noticed his gaze and smiled, expectant. Severus quickly looked away, turning back to Charity.
“I wouldn’t get in Barty’s way,” Severus said, smirking faintly at the thought of the younger Omega. “He’s as mad as an Azkaban inmate.”
Charity laughed, flipping her hair and leaning lightly on his arm. Her sweet vanilla scent filled the air, easing some of his tension.
“I know. You’ll be fine, you’ll reach the finish line easily,” she said with absolute certainty. “Just stay clear of Mulciber’s teeth. He’s watching you.”
He’d felt it, that prickling at the back of his neck that warned of trouble. Still, he doubted Bruce would actually go after him; his mother’s insistence on finding a pure-blood mate would probably stop him.
Before he could reply, Charity’s body went rigid, her scent turning sharp — thick, cloying vanilla filling the air until it almost overwhelmed him. He saw the other Omegas shift away uncomfortably, glancing at her with irritation.
“You’re drawing attention,” Severus muttered under his breath.
She sat back upright, posture stiff but eyes unfocused, fixed on a flash of red hair.
Lily stood across the courtyard with one of her friends, smiling and laughing, beautiful and composed like the rest. How Severus wished she’d been an Alpha.
But she wasn’t. Lily was an Omega too, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t understand. She didn’t know what it meant for him to be an Omega, not the way he lived it. There were no gentle courtships or kind suitors waiting for him, no hope of a “good” Alpha. Not with his looks, not with his bloodline. Lily was perfect, her smile and charm made everyone forget that tiny imperfection in her heritage.
“I’ll leave you now. The run will start soon,” Charity said softly, as a few Alpha gazes turned her way — and, by extension, toward him. “Take care, and run.”
She slipped away, taking the attention with her. She was smart enough to know her presence would only make things worse for him.
“All in line! It’s time to begin,” called a stern-looking woman, clearly a Ministry worker.
She carried a clipboard and a long blue quill. Behind her came an older mediwitch pushing a trolley full of brightly coloured potions.
Severus stood and joined the line with the others.
The potion didn’t bother him, he’d brewed it himself many times. So he felt no fear when his turn came. He knew what to do. He needed to blend in, to vanish from the Alphas’ notice without seeming aloof or disdainful. Otherwise, the worst of them would come for him, eager to break a “defiant” Omega.
“When the doors open, you may run. Don’t fight, don’t resist the transformation, and stay on the marked path,” the Ministry woman instructed. “The Omegas and their chosen Alphas will be collected at the finish.”
“Good luck,” the mediwitch added kindly.
Both women left, and the Omegas grew even more anxious. Severus’s ears rang with the constant chatter, and his nose twitched at the sweet, cloying scents around him. His skin prickled with that familiar electricity that always came before the change.
The doors opened with a hopeless creak, the sound of a fate already sealed. The delighted laughter of the Omegas beside him, flirting with the Alphas on the platform, was the final nail in the coffin. And Lily’s shy, innocent smile towards Potter was a knife straight to his heart.
He forgot everything and ran.
The Omegas scattered amid laughter and play, trotting leisurely through the grass and flowers. Charity was among them. Severus hoped she would stay there.
He ran farther than any Omega would dare go, hoping it wouldn’t look too obvious.
The course stretched for several kilometres through a vast forest, surrounded by tall, shimmering walls of magic that prevented any Omega from escaping. It was a beautiful place, the grass long and soft, sprinkled with glowing flowers of every colour. Trees cast pleasant shade in just the right spots for small creatures to curl up beneath their branches. A little river wound its way through the clearing, murmuring softly.
A perfect image, cunningly chosen to disguise the horror of the Hunt, an ancient tradition kept alive for centuries to control Omegas.
At least it had been modernised, or so they claimed. Now it ended only with a mark, the bite on the neck that sealed the bond. Once, the entire mating ritual had taken place here in the open, like two wild beasts in the woods.
He felt his body shift, bones reshaping and skin adjusting to the change. It wasn’t painful, not like a werewolf transformation. It felt more like that of an Animagus, though this was no reflection of the soul, only a disguise brought on by potion. His sense of smell sharpened; the scent of the forest burst fresh and alive around him. Every sound grew louder, his vision saturated and too bright.
It was overwhelming.
He stretched his front legs, adjusting to his new lupine body, gave a shake, and moved on. He couldn’t stay near the gates once the Alphas were released.
There were two kinds of Alphas he needed to fear, not the rare respectful or kind ones, but the cruel and the pathetic.
The best Alphas were already bonded, those who wanted a lovely, gentle Omega to build a life of love and warmth with. Not Severus.
The Alphas who would come for him would be the cruel ones, the kind who sought bitter, sharp Omegas with dreams they could break and tame. The others would be the pitiful ones, the sort no Omega would ever look at, desperate enough to seize any chance to sink their teeth into someone.
Severus would tear apart any Alpha who tried.
The shrill clang of the bell made his ears ache. His fur bristled, and a low growl rumbled from between his teeth. The Omegas’ short reprieve was over. Good. Time to run.
It was almost fun, running like this, strangely liberating. The wind in his fur, the earth beneath his paws. If only he were alone, without having to dodge Alphas every few metres, it might have been perfect.
Then a scent reached him, apples and fresh strawberries. He lifted his nose, following it. Not far, just a few paces ahead. He followed carefully, keeping close to his intended path. In the distance, he saw a red-furred wolf, almost foxlike, bounding playfully among the flowers. She looked happy. Even in her wolf form, Lily was beautiful.
Another scent invaded Severus’s senses, strong and woody, the deep, unmistakable scent of an Alpha. An Alpha Severus knew far too well.
A tall wolf stepped out from the bushes beside Lily, large and broad, his dark brown fur gleaming under the sun like toasted hazelnut. He trotted around her, tail wagging wildly, approaching gently, submissively, head lowered in a respectful gesture, just as a well-mannered Alpha would.
The courtship scene shattered when Potter stopped abruptly, lifting his head and sniffing the air. His gaze snapped towards Severus’s direction. Severus crouched low, pressing himself to the ground, ears flat against his skull, lips curling in a silent snarl.
Potter’s gaze locked onto him, brown eyes dilated and searching, lips already pulling back in a growl, ready to pounce on a prey he had not yet seen. Lily followed his stare, confusion flickering as she sensed the sudden tension, until her eyes met Severus’s.
She stepped back.
Potter advanced.
Then Lily’s sharp bark cut through the air. She growled, tail whipping furiously, and trotted away, glancing back at Potter before disappearing through the flowers.
Potter hesitated, still staring toward Severus, gave a low, wounded whine, and then followed her.
After that, Severus reached the end of the course without trouble. No Alpha or Omega crossed his path as he moved farther away. He was the first to arrive, padding — still in wolf form — into the clearing where the Ministry woman and the mediwitch waited.
Both looked startled to see him there, alone, without an Alpha at his side proudly showing off a bite mark.
“Oh, hello dear, couldn’t find yourself an Alpha?” asked the mediwitch as she approached. “You can still go back if you’d like.”
He didn’t move. He sat and waited for the antidote. The potion wore off in only two ways: with an Alpha’s bite or with the antidote. And Severus would never choose the first, even if it meant living as a wolf for the rest of his life.
When the transformation finally ended and he stood once again as himself, a pair arrived, a couple he barely knew. Both looked radiant and content, the Omega’s mark still fresh and bleeding. They were met with applause and cheers, the Ministry woman jotting their names down on a scroll with a pleased smile. Then she turned back to Severus, her expression tight.
“Your name?” she asked, quill poised.
“Severus Snape,” he replied.
The mediwizard approached Severus, checking his neck and wrists, and cast a diagnostic spell. She said nothing, but the pity in her eyes told Severus everything he needed to know. Omegas who weren’t marked during their first run were considered bad luck, poor Omegas who had failed to attract an Alpha.
Another pair arrived, and this one made Severus shiver, unable to look away. The Alpha wore a smug grin, strutting and preening like a vain peacock, as unpleasant as they came. Behind him came an Omega, disheveled and messy, bruises on her arms and scratches across her skin. The bite on her neck looked brutal — done hastily, without care or consent. His own nape prickled in discomfort, mirroring the pain she must be feeling.
The Ministry woman congratulated them, hastily writing down their names with a smile. The mediwizard shifted uneasily, her eyes scanning the Omega from head to toe. She stepped toward the young woman, who flinched instinctively, and gently pulled her away from the Alpha, who didn’t even bother to look back. The healer began tending to her, cleaning the wounds and applying dittany essence to everything except the bite.
“All done, dear. You’ve had a successful run.” she said.
Severus felt sick.
The girl only nodded, silent tears sliding down her cheeks, soft sobs catching in her throat. Her pretty yellow dress was ruined, covered in dirt, and she was missing a shoe. Severus thought of his mother’s words, how she used to laugh at the “unfortunate” Omegas, those who “brought it upon themselves,” mocking their cries for attention and their regret afterward. Now, for the first time, he understood their fear, their pain. Compassion welled up in him like something sharp.
He stepped closer, cautiously. The scent of another could easily trigger anxiety in a newly bonded Alpha and Omega, and Severus knew his own presence was rarely pleasant. He wasn’t exactly charming to look at, nor easy to smell. But still, he moved behind the girl, her tangled blond hair falling over one shoulder, exposing the ugly mark on her nape.
Severus smiled faintly. “The mark’s done wrong.”
The girl startled, hand flying to her neck, fingers brushing the wound. The bite had been rushed, too far to the right, missing the gland. She was lucky.
“Let me see, dear,” the mediwizard murmured, gently examining the torn skin. “He’s right. It’s not done properly.”
The Ministry woman approached, shooting Severus a sharp look before glancing critically at the young Omega. She clicked her tongue in irritation.
“The mark wasn’t completed properly. You’ll have to redo it.” she told the Alpha.
The casual tone made Severus’s skin crawl. His instincts surged, and he stepped in front of the Omega, blocking the Alpha from moving closer to the trembling girl. He regretted it immediately, the Alpha’s eyes locked onto him, blazing. So much for keeping a low profile.
“The Omega’s out of the hunt,” Severus said coldly. “Without a mark, unless she accepts, no one can force her.”
“I did mark her!” the Alpha whined, a pathetic growl leaving his throat.
Severus had faced stronger Alphas before, Potter and Black, dominant as they were, had a far more powerful presence than this sorry excuse before him. Neither had ever managed to cow him.
“Do you have the brain capacity to think like a normal person?” Severus sneered. “That thing on her neck is anything but a mark.”
“Get out of my way, Omega,” the Alpha spat, releasing strong pheromones, an awful stench of gasoline and ash. “Or I’ll mark you instead.”
He’d like to see him try. Severus could tear apart an Alpha like this any day.
The Alpha, puffed up with ego, stepped forward and growled, trying to dominate him. Severus let his own pheromones flow, harsh and overwhelming, drowning out the Alpha’s stench. He took a step forward, growled louder. The coward backed off, covering his mouth, curling in on himself.
Severus knew his pheromones were unpleasant — too strong, too intoxicating. Mulciber had once said they were overpowering, not entirely unpleasant, but impossible to ignore.
The Ministry woman drew in a quiet breath. “That’s quite enough,” she said evenly. “You’re disrupting procedure.”
“The hunt’s rules are clear,” Severus interrupted. “You bite during the chase, or it’s invalid.” Calling it illegal was an exaggeration, but it was certainly frowned upon by magical law. “She’s out.”
The Beta huffed in frustration, realizing she wouldn’t win an argument with Severus, so she tried another approach. Turning to the Omega, now that Severus had cowed the pompous Alpha into uselessness, she spoke in a patronizing tone.
“Listen, young lady. The Alpha went through the trouble of finding and bringing you back. It’s only fair to let him complete the bond.”
Severus’s temper flared. The only reason that woman still stood was because she was a Beta, otherwise, he might’ve had her on her knees by now for the nonsense she was spewing. Hopefully, the girl wasn’t foolish enough to accept that brute.
“I…” the Omega began, looking up at Severus with glassy eyes.
“She already has an Alpha,” Severus lied sharply, desperate to help her. “He tried to steal her.”
Both women turned to look at the still-retching Alpha. The Beta’s eyes flicked from him to the girl, only now noticing her state.
“Well, if that’s the case, I expect your Alpha will mark you properly next time,” she said curtly, sitting down and crossing out the names she’d written earlier. “You may go.”
Of course — only another Alpha, imaginary or not, could end the dispute so easily. Nothing Severus said mattered unless it came wrapped in the authority of one. Alphas didn’t usually steal Omegas — once one declared interest, the others respected it. Not always, of course. Sometimes, two or more Alphas competed for the same Omega, and the strongest would win, but they didn’t steal. They fought to earn.
Severus grabbed the dittany and applied it to the girl’s bite, staring at the Alpha as he did. He savored the silent fury burning in the man’s eyes. His satisfaction faded, though, when the Alpha turned and stalked back toward the hunt. He could only hope the man wouldn’t find another Omega — or if he did, that she’d be strong enough to endure him.
He left the room, walking down the corridor toward the exit. There was no need to stay and listen to one of those speeches they gave to newly bonded couples. The first obstacle was over, and he could finally relax, if not for the small yellow shadow trailing behind him. He tried to lose her, walking faster and turning down several hallways, but she still followed close behind.
After a few minutes, he stopped, breathing sharply to keep himself from yelling at the girl.
“Care to explain why you’re following me?” Severus demanded, turning to face her.
She flinched, staring down in embarrassment, rubbing her bare foot against her calf.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, and Severus almost wished he’d ignored her altogether if that was all she had to say. “For defending me. For getting me away from that Alpha.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he snapped, rolling his eyes when she shuddered. “That Alpha was an idiot. You might’ve gotten away from him, but another Omega will be his next victim.”
She seemed to just realize that. “I didn’t want—”
“That doesn’t matter now, whether you feel bad or not. Next time, find a proper Alpha.” He cut off what he knew would be a pitiful excuse.
“I didn’t want a mark. He caught me before I was even halfway through running,” she explained quickly, and Severus could tell she was telling the truth. Then she began to cry. “I don’t know what I’ll do next year.”
It couldn’t get worse. Severus was awful at comforting anyone, especially a girl who looked so fragile. For a second, he thought about walking away, leaving her there to her tears, before all the newly bonded pairs filled the halls. But she reminded him so much of Charity that his heart softened despite himself.
He took off his jacket, one of the few things his mother had ever allowed herself to buy for him, and wrapped it around the girl’s shoulders, giving her a small shred of decency and dignity.
“You have to train. Run until you’re exhausted and then keep running. From sunrise to moonrise, don’t stop,” he instructed, adjusting the jacket as she sniffled, though the tears had mostly dried. “You’re pretty; that makes you an obvious target. Hide along the edge, everyone else heads for the center.”
He stepped back, nodded, and kept walking.
She followed. Side by side, as if his small act of pity had granted her permission to stay.
“If I do that, I won’t get caught?” she asked in a low whisper.
He should’ve ignored her—but instead, he replied, “Probably. There’s always a chance, though.” False hope would be cruel. “Your best option is to find an Alpha for the next one.”
“I don’t want an Alpha,” she complained, clutching his jacket tightly. “Do you have one for the next race?”
He glanced at her. She was limping slightly, probably because of her missing shoe. She didn’t look at him; her blue eyes were distant, fixed ahead. She’d stopped crying, only sniffing now and then. She wasn’t trembling anymore either. Telling her his plan was dangerous, for too many reasons. Betrayal could come in an instant, and he’d be hunted like prey.
“I don’t see how sharing that information would be convenient for me,” he said dryly.
She shrank a little. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Charity would get along with her, or maybe she’d hate her, like she hated Lily. She had her reasons, or so she said, though Severus suspected she was just being petty.
“I don’t have any Alpha in mind. I’ll run the race,” he offered. “Any other questions?” It wasn’t an invitation, it was sarcasm. She didn’t take it that way.
“Can I run with you?” she asked, barely audible.
Severus stopped mid-step. That familiar sting under his skin, that crawling unease in his stomach, this was exactly why he should’ve ignored her. He was starting to feel compassion.
“You seem to know what you’re doing, and my pheromones are too sweet. I can’t drive away any Alpha like you did,” she said, looking at him with desperate sincerity. “If I run with you, I might make it through.”
The consequences of your actions, Severus. This is what happens when you’re weak and kind, you inherit other people’s problems. How was he supposed to get rid of her now?
“And what will you do the next race? Or the one after that? No Omega’s ever won all five,” Severus reminded her sharply. “You’d only draw attention if you run beside me. I don’t need some brat slo—”
He stopped himself. Charity always struck him as a quiet predator, despite her softness. Not like Lily—Lily was fire, fierce and blinding. Charity was subtle and sweet, like poison in a glass of honey. And this girl, so much like Charity—fragile, wounded, scared like a cornered animal, made her impossible to ignore.
He took a deep breath, forcing control with those ridiculous calming exercises Charity had drilled into him, though they weren’t helping much now.
“Severus Snape,” he said finally, resigned. “My name. And yours, miss...?”
The girl looked up, wide-eyed, stunned by his acceptance, and a spark of hope bloomed in her chest like wild daisies.
“Pandora. Pandora Rosier,” she answered quickly, smiling brightly and taking his hand.
Severus knew he’d made a mistake—but couldn’t bring himself to regret it.