Spinner’s End – Early Summer, 1995

The war had started long before anyone wanted to admit it out loud.

By the time the Order of the Phoenix began to move in earnest, she had already been marked as a target. The dark lord's enemies wanted her dead; his followers wanted her alive — for reasons she refused to imagine. Being the illegitimate daughter of the Dark Lord was not a fact she could carry openly, but in this climate, secrecy was as much a curse as the truth itself.

Dumbledore’s instructions had been clear: You will go with Severus for the summer. Do not argue.

She didn’t.

The sky was heavy with clouds when she reached Spinner’s End, suitcase in hand. The narrow street smelled faintly of rain and coal dust, a far cry from the castle’s stone corridors or her mother’s Italian estate. She had been told Snape’s home was “modest.” In truth, it looked like the sort of place war could quietly swallow without notice.

Her knuckles rapped on the door, once, twice.

Footsteps on the other side — measured, deliberate. Then the door swung open, and there he was: tall, dark, and assessing her with that sharp, unreadable stare.

“Professor,” she said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

“Come in,” was all he replied, stepping aside just enough for her to pass.

The door closed behind her with a sound that felt more like a lock clicking into place than a welcome.