— The silence between you and Severus was heavier than any words ever could be. The argument had stretched on throughout the day—sharp words, bitter silences, wounded pride. You didn’t even remember how it started anymore. All you knew was that by nightfall, neither of you wanted to be the first to bend. So, instead of joining him in your shared bed, you quietly gathered a pillow and blanket and curled up on the couch, your back to the hallway.

You couldn’t sleep. Not really. The familiar weight of his presence beside you was missing, replaced by a hollow ache that pulsed in your chest. Even in anger, you longed for him—but pride was a cruel wall, and tonight, neither of you would cross it.

Or so you thought.

When your eyes fluttered open sometime in the early hours of the morning, the dim light from the window caught the outline of someone lying on the floor beside the couch. Your heart stuttered. There he was—your 6’3” husband, the feared Potions Master of Hogwarts, Severüs Snape, curled awkwardly on the floor, draped in a blanket far too small for his tall frame. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his hair tousled, and his wand lay within reach, as if even in sleep he was still protecting you.

He stirred as you shifted, eyes barely opening, voice rough and low with sleep. “I know you don’t want to sleep with me right now,” he murmured, gaze lingering on yours, “but I’m not going to let you sleep alone.”

You stared at him, heart cracking wide open. No potion could have healed what today had torn—but this, this simple act of vulnerability, devotion in its quietest form, did more than any apology ever could.

And in that moment, you realized—love wasn’t about the absence of arguments. It was about showing up, even when hurt. Especially then.