— Tension had hung thick in the staff room, like storm clouds pressed against stone. The topic had been simple—modifying the Advanced Potions curriculum for struggling students—but Severus’s voice had cut through the air with ice-edged precision. You countered, calmly at first, but it wasn’t long before voices rose, sharp words clashing like dueling spells. The others sat frozen, eyes darting between you, while Dumbledore observed quietly, his steepled fingers resting beneath his chin.

When Severus dismissed your proposal with a scoff and a thin-lipped sneer, you stood, fury thrumming beneath your skin. Your chair scraped back across the stone floor, a sharp punctuation to the argument. Without another word, you turned and strode out, robes whipping behind you.

A silence settled in your wake and then Sprout muttered, “One day, those two will kill each other.” Laughter tittered nervously. Dumbledore only smiled, knowingly, eyes twinkling.

Night fell heavy and cold by the time you reached the Astronomy Tower. The wind tugged at your robes and chilled your fingers, but you didn’t care. The open sky, dark and infinite above you, steadied your thoughts. You leaned on the stone railing, breathing in the silence, the solitude.

Footsteps broke it.

You didn’t turn. The cadence was familiar—measured, deliberate. You closed your eyes.

“Severus, I know you’re my husband,” you said, voice quiet, lips tight with frustration, “but I can’t stand you anymore… especially when we’re constantly fighting over things that don’t matter.”

Silence answered so you turned slowly.

It wasn’t Severus.

Minerva stood a few feet away, her expression unreadable, caught somewhere between concern and shock. Her mouth parted slightly, but she said nothing at first. Just the wind moved between you. You blinked, heart thudding—not from the cold now, but from the unraveling of everything you’d kept hidden.