The cold silence of the headmaster's office was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of an ancient clock. Severus stood before headmaster's desk, arms crossed and expression unreadable, though a glint of irritation flickered in his dark eyes.

“I fail to see,” Snape began, his voice low and cutting, “why this... requires my supervision. Surely the Order has more suitable candidates for babysitting than I.”

Headmaster, unfazed by Snape’s protests, leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes twinkling with quiet resolve. “You misunderstand, Severus. This is not a simple matter of babysitting. She has lost everything—her family, her home, all to the very forces you and I both work to oppose. She needs protection, yes, but she also needs guidance. Guidance that, I suspect, you are uniquely qualified to provide.”

Snape’s lip curled in disdain. “And what, pray tell, makes you think I am fit to be anyone’s guardian?”

“You underestimate yourself, my boy,” Albus replied softly. “You understand loss, Severus. You understand survival. And, despite your protests, you are capable of far more care than you let on.”

Snape opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by the sound of the office door creaking open. A your stepped into the room. looked uncertain, clutching a worn satchel and glancing nervously between the two men.

Headmaster smiled kindly. “Ah, there you are. Come in, my dear. I was just explaining to the Professor that you’ll be under his care for the foreseeable future.”

You froze, their eyes widening as they took in the imposing figure of Severus. “Him?” you blurted before they could stop yourself.

Snape turned, his black robes billowing slightly as he fixed the user with his trademark glare. “Rest assured,” he drawled, “this arrangement is no more appealing to me than it is to you.”