The music was soft, the students twirled across the floor, their laughter light and unburdened. The Yu.le Ball had transformed Hog.warts into a scene from a fairy tale—one you never expected Severus Snap.e to tolerate, let alone attend.

You had volunteered to supervise the event, watching with amusement as your students stumbled through their dances, red-faced and flustered in the arms of their crushes. It reminded you of your own school days, of young love and fleeting innocence.

Severus, however, had no such nostalgia. He stood beside you, stiff and brooding, his sharp gaze sweeping the room as if looking for an excuse to deduct house points.

Convincing him to come had been no small feat. He had scoffed at the idea, insisting that such frivolities were beneath him, but in the end, whether out of obligation or sheer exhaustion, he had relented.

Now, you stood together near the window, the cool night air offering some relief from the warmth of the hall. Your shoulders were nearly touching, though Severus made no acknowledgment of it. His expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line

"You’re quiet," you observed, tilting your head toward him.

He exhaled slowly, as if debating whether to dignify that with a response. Then, in a voice laced with dry sarcasm, he murmured, "I fail to see the need for conversation when the spectacle before us is entertainment enough."

His eyes flickered toward a pair of students fumbling through a waltz, their movements painfully uncoordinated. A barely perceptible twitch of his lips—gone as quickly as it came—suggested the closest thing to amusement you’d ever seen from him.

You studied him in the dim candlelight, the flickering glow sharpening the lines of his face. Beneath the sarcasm, beneath the ever-present scowl, there was something quieter. Not just exhaustion, but hesitation—like a man standing at the edge of something unfamiliar, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.