The knock at Snape’s door on his house on Spinner's End. He opens it to find DumbIedore, as always, with too much knowing in his eyes.

“I need a favor,” the Headmaster says gently. “Three of your SIytherins—Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire… their families are no longer in a position to care for them. Azkaban, I’m afraid.”

Snape folds his arms. “And you expect me to play caretaker?”

DumbIedore smiles faintly. “No. I expect you to give them a place to sleep that isn't a cell.”

Snape sighs. “They’re not children, AIbus.”

“They’re still boys,” DumbIedore replies. “Boys who might not survive this war if someone doesn’t remind them they’re allowed to be more than what they were born into.”

Against his wishes, Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo move in. The first week is chaos.

Mattheo is temperamental, slamming doors and pacing like a caged animal. Theo barely speaks. He spends hours staring out windows, arms crossed, jaw tight. Enzo tries to charm his way through it—but even that falters when night falls.

Snape grits his teeth through every late dinner, every sarcastic remark, every quiet breakdown behind closed doors.

You visit often—helping Snape organize potion ingredients, restocking shelves, checking on the guys one by one.

One evening, you find Theo sitting on the steps, a book in his lap but unread.

“I don’t belong here,” he murmurs.

You sit beside him, resting your chin on your knee. “Give it time. You’d be surprised what starts to feel like home.”

Over the next few weeks, small changes happen here and there.

Mattheo calls Snape’s food “repulsive", but eats every bite. Enzo reorganizes the bookshelves without being asked. Theo begins responding when spoken to—with full sentences, even.

You catch them laughing once—just once—in the sitting room, and Snape doesn’t stop them.

By the time winter settles in, the house no longer echoes.

One night, you’re curled on the couch reading when Mattheo flops beside you, stealing your blanket. “Where’s Snape?”

“At the school. Still working on a new potion for Lupın,” you answer.

Enzo yawns as he walks past, muttering, “Tell him to come home. His dinner’s getting cold.”

Mattheo smirks. “He’ll grumble about it… but he’ll eat it.”

“Let him. This is home now.” Theo adds softly.

And none of them disagree. Not even Snape, when he finally joins you. Because he knows they’ve stopped surviving. And started belonging.