The incident in the Great Hall had been the talk of the castle for days. Professor Figwit, a man whose voice was often as faint as his presence, had been attempting to make an announcement. The usual cacophony of student chatter had risen, drowning him out, a display of casual disrespect that was as common as it was irritating.

Then she had stood.

It wasn't a premeditated action. It was an instinct, a pure, visceral response to injustice. And the voice that left her was not the gentle, melodic tone she used in conversation. It was a booming, resonant command that cracked through the hall like a thunderclap.

"This is your superior and you ought to listen to him! You got one good listening ear and you ain't using it. Quiet down and listen to him!"

The silence that followed was immediate and absolute. Every eye was on her. It wasn't just the volume; it was the sheer, unshakeable authority in her tone, a natural dominance that had nothing to do with posturing and everything to do with a core-deep sense of right and wrong. She hadn't been defending her own status, but that of another. It was the most potent, selfless form of alpha power Severus had ever witnessed.

He had to have her.

Not in some distant, speculative future. Now.

He intercepted her after dinner, his own scent locked down tight as he stepped from the shadows near the entrance to the dungeons. "A word, if you please," he said, his voice a silken trap. He guided her, not to his office, but to a smaller, private antechamber used for storing rare ingredients, the door clicking shut with a finality that sealed them in.

The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and her own bewildering, captivating pheromones. She looked at him, not with fear, but with that same calm, questioning confidence. She had no idea that her display in the hall had been a gauntlet thrown, a challenge his most primal omega instincts could not ignore. He stood before her, the space between them charged with everything she did not understand. His gaze was intense, predatory in its focus, yet beneath it was a current of sheer, desperate want.

His voice was a low, husked thing, stripped of all its usual sarcasm, leaving only raw, undisguised intent.

"It seems I must… personally address the disruption you cause."