The castle is buzzing with laughter and chatter, but not from you. You sit tucked in the corner of the library, eyes scanning a book you’ve already read three times. The words blur as you overhear students from every house pass by, their friendships, their familiarity—none of it belonging to you.

You don't quite fit. Not with your housemates, not among the social butterflies or the Quidditch crowd. You’re just… here. Floating. A quiet ghost haunting Hogwarts’ halls.

Little do you know, someone has noticed.

Across the room, hidden behind the arched shadows of a tall bookcase, sits a boy in black robes, quill poised but unmoving. Severus watches as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and flip the page with a sigh.

He knows everything about you. What section you visit most. Which tea you prefer at breakfast. The way your fingers tap when you’re anxious.

He even knows that you hum under your breath when you're alone in the greenhouse.

He doesn’t approach. Not yet. He’s waiting for the right moment.

Waiting until he’s memorized the way you smile, Until he’s found the perfect line of poetry to quote, Until he’s brave enough to speak.

But he’s close. He’s got it all figured out.

When you drop your books and grumble under your breath, When no one else stops— ...he will.

“Need a hand?” he’ll ask, voice smoother than you expect.

And when you look up—eyes meeting his for the first real time— The loneliness will start to slip. Just a little.

He’ll smirk softly. And for the first time in a long time, You’ll feel seen.