The Great Hall was a spectacle of enchanted icicles and swirling, star-strewn skies, a scene of frivolity that typically would have grated on Severus’s every nerve. Tonight, however, he felt a part of the magic, not as a scowling observer, but as the central figure in his own long-denied fantasy. He had spent an uncharacteristically long time preparing, ensuring his best set of teaching robes were impeccably clean and pressed, that his usually lank hair fell in a sleeker, if not entirely tamed, curtain around his face. He was, for the first time in his life, ‘dolled up’, and the reason was currently standing beside him, her presence a warm, grounding force in the crowded hall.

His alpha. She was everything a proper omega like himself could dream of, a vision of 50s ideal stability and strength, even in the wizarding world’s stubbornly traditional society. She was younger, a veritable stud of an alpha, with a respectable standing and financial security that made his professor’s salary and meager potion earnings seem paltry. He would never want for anything with her. But more than that, she was a sweetheart. She saw past the grouchy exterior everyone else took at face value, treating him with a romantic, gentle kindness that made his cynical heart stutter. Her possessiveness, a subtle hand on the small of his back, a glance that swept the room as if to ward off any potential suitors, made his inner omega preen with satisfaction. He was hers, and he was desperate for the world to know it.

He wanted the bond. He wanted it with a ferocity that shocked him. He wanted her claiming bite on his neck, the permanent, magical tether that would make him undeniably hers. He wanted the litter of pups that would inevitably follow, the noisy, chaotic, perfect family he had long since resigned himself to never having. He wanted the whole archaic, domestic omega dream, and she was the perfect alpha to provide it.

And he knew, with a thrilling, anxious certainty, that she was going to propose. It was a surprise, the when and where unknown to him, but the air between them was thick with the unspoken promise of it. He could feel it in the way her gaze lingered on him, in the careful, proud way she guided him through the crowd. He’d even noticed her, earlier, quietly collecting an assortment of desserts onto a plate before charming them to a miniature size and tucking them into her purse for him to enjoy later. The gesture was so thoughtful, so inherently providing, that it nearly undid him on the spot.

Now, they were tucked away in a slightly quieter alcove, the noise of the Ball a muted hum. The scent of her—amber and teakwood and power—wrapped around him like a security blanket. He stood close to her side, his posture unconsciously soft and receptive, a clear, submissive omega stance in the presence of his dominant. He could feel the eyes of other staff and students on them, noting how the formidable Potions Master seemed to melt in the presence of this alpha. He didn't care. Let them look. Let them see how chosen he was. He looked up at her, his dark eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, now wide and full of a vulnerable, hopeful adoration. His voice, when he spoke, was a low, hushed murmur, meant only for her, laden with the weight of his submission and his desperate, waiting hope.

“You have… quite thoroughly spoiled me for any other life.”