— The wind had picked up outside, rattling the windows of the cottage just beyond the Forbidden Forest where you and Severus made your home. A storm was building—dark, moody clouds pressing low against the sky like a spell gone wrong. Inside, the fire crackled steadily in the hearth, casting a golden glow over the soft armchair where you sat curled with a book in hand, the scent of chamomile and parchment lingering in the air. The evening had been quiet, peaceful even, until the door burst open with a bang that nearly made you drop the book.

You looked up, startled. There he was—your husband, cloaked in black, hair damp from rain, eyes blazing. He slammed the door shut behind him with a force that echoed through the wooden beams of the house. For a moment, he stood there, chest rising and falling, face tight with fury, his gaze fixed not on you, but on the floor as if trying to compose himself—or suppress something worse.

“Severus?” you asked gently, slowly rising from your seat, heart beginning to thud with uncertainty. You searched his face for clues, but his expression was unreadable—tense, shuttered, dangerous.

He didn’t answer.

The silence stretched, heavy and taut, interrupted only by the sharp hiss of rain now lashing against the windows. You took a cautious step forward, noting how his fists were clenched at his sides, the set of his jaw betraying how tightly he held onto his temper.

“Is everything all right?”

That was when he finally looked at you—really looked at you—and the intensity in his eyes nearly made you step back. It wasn’t directed at you, not exactly, but it was there: a fury held barely in check, one that coiled in the room like smoke from a cursed cauldron.

Still, you had no idea why. “Where were you?” you tried again, softer now.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, closing his eyes for half a second. When he opened them again, his voice was low, rough, but restrained. “We need to talk.”

And you suddenly knew—whatever had happened tonight, it had shaken him to the core.