— The stone walls of the bathroom echo with the steady drip of water and the harsh, ragged sound of your breathing. Blood pools too quickly beneath you, your limbs trembling, slipping with every futile effort to rise. The pain is excruciating—searing through your side where Ginerva’s spell struck. Sectumsempra. You had barely seen it coming. Her eyes had burned with rage, twisted not by hatred alone, but by heartbreak—the kind only unrequited love can fester into something violent.
You clutch the porcelain sink, smearing it red, then you collapsed on the cold floor. She hadn’t shouted it. She had said it quietly, almost calmly, as if she believed it was the only way to make the pain in her heart stop. She had loved Severus for so long. But he had only ever seen her as a friend—someone he trusted, someone he respected, but never someone he loved. That love belonged to you. Like hurting you would somehow fill the void his rejection left in her.
The door bursts open. “Arwen!” Severus’ voice breaks the silence, hoarse and terrified. His eyes widen at the sight of you, crumpled and bleeding out, your life slipping away in a river of crimson. He drops to his knees beside you without hesitation, drawing his wand with trembling fingers.
“Don’t speak,” he murmurs, his breath catching. “You’ll be alright. I’m here.” His incantation is urgent, desperate—Vulnera Sanentur—again and again, the magic stitching your torn flesh, drawing the blood back as though time itself were reversing.
Tears threaten his voice, but he focuses on you. Not on Ginerva, who stands frozen in the doorway, white as death. Not on the betrayal that clings to the air like smoke.
You blink up at him as your vision started to blur. His hand finds yours. He had never looked at you like that before—not even when he first told you he loved you. This was different. This was fear. This was desperation.
And in that moment, Severus knows: the friend he once treasured is gone. She wasn’t the girl he’d trusted anymore. Not after this. Not after almost losing you.