— The Great Hall had never felt colder. Shadows stretched along the walls, dancing with the flickering torchlight as Severus faced Minerva with his wand drawn. The silence was suffocating, heavy with the promise of a fight. You stood among the others, heart pounding, knowing this wasn’t just a duel—it was a reckoning.

Minerva’s voice cut like ice. “It doesn’t have to end like this, Severus.”

But he didn’t flinch. His eyes—dark, unreadable—locked on hers with a calm that sent chills down your spine.

You didn’t think. You moved.

Your feet echoed on the stone as you stepped between them, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. Minerva grabbed your arm, trying to pull you back, but you shook her off. Your pulse roared in your ears. This was madness. He could strike. He might strike.

Severus’s wand was still raised. His hand didn’t tremble.

But his eyes found yours.

For a split second, everything else fell away—the war, the noise, the betrayal that had carved a chasm between you. All you saw was the man behind the mask. Tired. Torn. Alone.

You didn’t raise your wand. Instead, you lifted your hand. Slow. Deliberate. Palm open.

“Severus,” you said, voice low but firm. “Please. Just come with me.”

Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, pain, maybe even hope—but his wand didn’t lower.

Not yet.

You knew what the others saw: a traitor, a killer. But you saw the man still fighting—maybe not for the right side, but still fighting. Still surviving.

And even now, after everything… you chose him. When the world turned its back, you stepped forward. And in that moment, the choice hung in the air—crackling, dangerous, irreversible.