If Severus Had Been Part Of The Team And It’s Planning From The Beginning, They Wouldn’t Have Wasted

asphodelroot​:

Sausage rolls and fries were not enough to forestall the shocked look of betrayal she gave him. That had been her cherry! She needed those cherries—did he have any idea what sort of battle she had endured to secure them? Of course not, because Lily hadn’t told him. And she usually didn’t make more than a token fuss about food theft; Severus always needed more feeding, and if it required letting him feel like he was getting away with something via theft for it to happen, so be it.

Her cherries had never been intended to fall victim to that policy, but after a moment of hurt scowling, Lily let it go and focused on savouring the sole cherry left for her, tucked in the corner of her mouth. She didn’t have many close friends to start, and was on the wrong side of the majority of them; no matter how sacred her cherry had been, she wasn’t going to lose Severus over it. Not tonight.        (Never again.)

Finally swallowing her cherry, she fished out a bit of ice to munch on instead. “We came together. He’s definitely got some bugbears behind the ears tonight,” she shared. “Snappish, grumpy, probably should have stayed home but even more bullheaded and stubborn than usual. I told him to avoid alcohol tonight—no idea if he’ll actually listen to that bit of advice.” Despite that grim debrief, Lily was willing to call tonight not a disaster thus far. Nothing broken, no one thrown across the room. Far from the bloodbath Lily hadn’t been expecting but hadn’t ruled out as a possibility. “Will you be tweaking the brew again, for tomorrow night? Maybe some hawthorn bark to help him stay calm.”

Severus blinked at her scowling for a few moments after she let it go, then pushed the plate of sausage rolls closer to her. He’d clearly misread the room. She was more upset than he realized.

‘ He’s always agitated before the full moon, ’ Severus said again, this time reassuringly. ‘ You should’ve seen him last month. Absolutely insufferable — still no violent outbursts. With me trying. He can keep it together for a few more hours. ’ Or else he wouldn’t have come at all tonight … hopefully. Severus was banking on the assumption that at least one of the four buffoons of his childhood had enough sense to stay home when they needed to. Especially if said buffoon had been dealing with the same pre-moon mood swings for as long as they could remember.

Which was, put like that, a rather tall order.

He looked at Black again, then said to Lily with a straight face: ‘ I could keep Black occupied for the rest of the night if you’d prefer. ’ He and Black going at each other would at least not be shocking. They’ve been practically exchanging friendship bracelets the last few months, it would just be setting the world back to rights, if nothing else.

He hummed. ‘ The problem’s not keeping him calm, it’s keeping him present. Mentally. I’ve modified the brew to keep him aware and in control through the eclipse. The calm will come with that. ’ He paused, casting his mind back to the multitudes of equations and ideas he went through to get to a result worth testing. ‘ It should work. ’ But they don’t know that. They won’t until they test it.

Severus flinched at the flagrant use of the Dark Lord’s name from little old Potter, no less — who do you think you are?! An old thought that sprang to the top of his mind every time he had the opportunity to be in the arrogant boy’s presence for more than a moment, and thus all the more easily dismissed for it’s recurrence. Potter held himself above the rest, as always, but from the way he carried himself it seemed to Severus he was merely keeping his head above water.

Severus tipped his chin up as he followed Potter to the living room. Shoulders squared and back straight. ‘ Equality is unattainable in the wizarding world. The Dark Lord provides opportunity, which is more than what the Order could say for itself. ’ Severus was a practical man and he took the practical path — in most things. It all fell through in the end for him but being a Death Eater was, and still is, the practical choice.

Severus watched Potter move like every shift pained him. He took mental notes of his observations. He was silent for a long moment after the question was posed, before he sat down on the armchair besides Potter, legs crossed at the knee, and set his bag of brews by his feet. ‘ The process will be a month long, at least, ’ he started. ‘ I’ll administer a potion and spell three times a week. 12 to 24 sessions in total — after that, everything that could be fixed has been fixed. ’ He tilted his head to the side slightly. ‘ Once we begin there can be no delays or breaks. This is a delicate process. The margin for error is very slim. ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

.

The second Severus opened his mouth, James felt like breaking. That had happened a lot since he’d gotten out of the dungeons and Lily had left him. Little things would make him want to throw something or sob or a mixture of both - like seeing the mug she used to use in his cupboards or watching Garnet snub him as though the cat never even realized he’d been gone. Or, like the other day, when Remus had been visiting him at Mungo’s and said Lily’s name and James had told him to watch his damn mouth as though he’d been called something crude.

But all Severus needed to do was talk in that slow, annoying drawl of his and remind James of all the reasons Lily had broken up with him without even doing it on purpose. Or, knowing Snape, maybe it was on purpose and the wix was just so fucking smart that it hardly sounded that way. “Convenient timing to realize that about yourself,” James said with a new dullness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. His head suddenly felt stuffy like he was holding back tears, but he just ground down his back teeth until it went away. Maybe later he’d curl up with Sirius and let himself cry again, but there was no fucking way Severus Snape would see how much this - Lily, Severus, their friendship, everything - was affecting him.

“Voldemort promotes equality in your little circle of friends?” James quipped back with his eyebrows raised, a mean smirk on his face, using the name intentionally to try and get a rise. He turned and led the way to his living room where a plush maroon couch and two armchairs sat around a coffee table. There was a multi-patterned blanket on the back of one of the chairs. It felt warm in here, despite James’ lack of it.

He gingerly sat on the couch, perching himself forward because leaning back would’ve caused his joints to ache and pain to hiss from between his teeth. Gently, he lowered his wrist to rest against his knee. “So, what kind of process are we lookin’ at?” Severus could kill him, if he wanted to. It would be easy. James would do whatever he was told and, if he were about to be poisoned, he’d have no clue until it happened. 

This is a list of curses Severus crafted for the Dark Lord during the last six years of their Death-Eatership. These spells are commonly used by Death Eaters, and experienced Order members came across them often in the last 6 years. There are no set counters for these curses yet – they’re mostly dealt with through a patchwork of obscure spells and potions that work as often as they don’t. There’s a rumor among Order members that Severus crafted spells for the DE, but it was neither confirmed nor denied.

Feel free to include these curses in threads,  plots, and backstory in whatever way you like! If you have any questions, let me know. (pls heed the warnings)

Battle spells:

Frigus —

Freezes the major blood vessels connected to the heart. Turns the blood to ice, spreads outwards. This spell is used in battle, and the victim of this curse loses consciousness immediately. If the counter is not cast shortly after the curse, or a healer had not found a way to keep the victim alive long enough for the ice to be melted, the victim will die.

The counter for this spell was crafted shortly after Severus Snape joined the Order of the phoenix.

Sectumsempra —

Always cuts. The wand movement is ambiguous – a quick and decisive slash, in any direction, upward or downward or sideways. The victim is cut in broad slashes, like a sword flying in broad arcs. If the wand is thrust forward instead as the spell is cast, then much like a sword the magic will stab through the victim from one side and come out the other. A clean cut.

Wounds from this curse can bleed for hours and hours, and are particularly resistant to common healing spells. The spell was created by Severus Snape during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and the healing spell was created some time after his graduation, but is still an almost total unknown.

Submerso —

Fills the victim’s lungs with water so they drown while standing in land. This spell is used in battle, and the victim will react much like a drowning person would. Except, unlike a drowning victim, the water can’t be coughed back up, and the common spells used to treat drowning victims in such an emergency only increase the amount of water and hurry the victim along towards their death.

There is no known counter for this curse. Healers have begun using bastardized cleaning spells to remove the excess water instead, but the victims are often left extremely dehydrated as a result, and the struggle is always getting there in time before it’s too late.

Putredine –

Purple flames wrap around the victim like thick ropes. They don’t burn. They weaken the flesh, poison the blood. Extremely painful upon impact. If left unhealed for long periods of time the flesh rots and must be amputated. There is no designated healing spell for this curse, and healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent.

Ave –

Spell leaves small but deep wounds in the victim, like holes. The number and depth of holes depends on wand movement and strength of the spell cast. The wounds are deeply reminiscent of bullet holes. 

Flamma pulmintra –

The precursor to Cinere, the ash spell. Turns the air in the victim’s lungs scorching hot, burns the victim inside out. There is no designated healing spell for this curse, and healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent. 

Naufragi tumet –

Attacks the nerves of the affected area of the body. The nerves swell and twist into new shapes. Extremely painful upon impact, and for a time afterwards the affected body part would be useless. Healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent. 

Lapise –

Turns the victim’s flesh to stone. Upon casting will transfigure the part of the body it hits to stone, and begin a very slow and gradual spread throughout the rest of the body. The speed and duration of the transfiguration depends on the caster’s skill. it can take anywhere from hours, to days, to weeks to spread out in a noticeable rate, by then the battle will have long been over. A skilled healer or wix knowledgeable in human transfiguration can slowly and painstakingly undo the effects of the spell, but the effectiveness of that process depends on the skills of said healer itself. The spell has no official counter, as it doesn’t officially exist in any text, and is only known and used by Death Eaters.

Pavor –

The victim is suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed by intense, all-consuming fear and panic. The effects of this spell last anywhere from minutes to hours, and the echoes of fear linger for long afterwards. Victims of this curse would do anything from freeze mid battle, drop their wand and curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, scream, weep, run and run and run amid spellfire with no direction or logic or thought. Nothing but fear. Nothing but panic. Very few people give this spell the weight it deserves – it has no permanent physical effects and as such, survivors of this curse are given a calming draught at most and dismissed as healthy afterwards without a second thought. 

Interrogation spells:

Flore —

Seeds twist into existence within every joint of the body. They grow, and bloom, and by the end of the spell flowers have pushed their way out of shoulders, elbows, and knees, in full bloom. The only thing that will stop the flowers’ progress is speech: talk, and the pain stops. Talk, and maybe they’ll finally kill you. Victims of this curse retain full awareness and mental clarity throughout this process. The pain settles without the haze to dull it.

If the spell is canceled before the flowers have pushed their way out, the victim may live. They may suffer permanent injuries, most notably in the knees, wrists, and elbows. The seeds will remain embedded in every joint.

Shortly after joining the order, Severus Snape crafted a healing spell that heals most of the wounds inflicted by the curse, depending on the severity, and a potion to dissolve the seeds and mend the joints back together. Full recovery is not guaranteed.

Dolor —

This spell is used for torture and for extracting information from victims. When cast, the lightest of touches upon the skin would cause the most excruciating pain. Running a feather down a victim’s arm would send them screaming and weeping themselves hoarse. A sharp gust of wind would cut like knives. The weight of their clothes, the press of their shoes, the texture of the earth against the soles of their feet. Everything will cause relentless waves of pain. Being under the effects of this spell for too long is known to send victims into shock, and in extreme cases, lose their minds.

Interrogations using this spell are usually conducted by two or more Death Eaters. One to cast the spell and keep it going, and the other to ask the questions and make sure they receive an answer. Victims of this spell are treated with the same remedies a victim of the cruciateus is. Non-Death Eaters who have seen or heard of this spell often refer to it as the other cruciateus.

That one mf-ing spell:

Cinere —

The victim turns to ash. First the skin, then the muscle, then the tissue, then the bones. It's a slow and meandering process, unsteady and certain only in it’s inevitability, picking up speed and intensity only to jolt to a near halt, then meander for a while longer as if to play some more. It may take, on average, from three to seven days to complete. The victim remains alive through the entirety of the process. There is yet no known counter for this curse. Once a victim has been hit, the only thing that can be done to stop the pain is a mercy kill.

This curse was created to send a message. Powerful enemies of the Dark Lord would die slowly and painfully in plain view of their loved ones, begging for death. This curse was not used frequently so as to not reduce its impact.

madeyed-andmoody​:

Alastor was bent over a table, pouring over the maps he’d drawn up on each of the childrens’ homes, York and London and Wiltshire and Liverpool. Each of them had become familiar, something he could trace over in his sleep by this point. It was imperative he knew, imperative that these children were kept safe.

Alastor hated feeling powerless, hated feeling like he was not doing enough. So he plotted and planned and he learned to fill in his inadequacies.

The dining room doors swung open and Alastor glanced up, eyes landing on Severus Snape. Just the wix he wanted. He motioned for the other to come closer, a pleasantry falling from his lips on habit.

“Snape. What did you find out?”

They approached the dining table, returning the pleasantry with a nod, their wand moving instinctively to spell the doors shut and ward them against snooping, magical and otherwise. ‘ Bellatrix Lestrange will be at Liverpool, ’ they said without preamble. ‘ The Lestrange brothers as well, ’ though that went without saying. The head of the beast being there meant it’s claws and tail would surely follow. They placed the small vial on the table, wispy silver shimmering under the morning light. Thoughts and memories, shifting images they gleaned from Rabastan’s mind the night before. ‘ We may need to keep our teams informed. ’ 

They paused. They knew who they'd assigned to Liverpool, and what they were capable of, and what they weren’t. ‘ I suggest we rethink our team assignments. ’

madeyed-andmoody:

The spelled and warded doors were a habit at this point. They didn’t need anyone not privy to this sensitive information overhearing anything. Not that people in the Order wouldn’t be told. Of course they would, but it was a delicate situation, and a precarious balance, and Moody oftentimes hated it.

Alastor valued Severus’s bluntness, but now it felt like a suckered punch to the gut. They had not accounted for this, not truly. She was the Lieutenant. He straightened fully, back like an arrow, muscles coiled, eyes focused on their face, searching for any indication there was doubt. When Moody didn’t find it, he cursed aloud, running a across his mouth, teeth grit.

When Severus continued with the Lestranges, more explotives, this time far more colorful and vulgar (often about their mothers and the devil’s cunt they sprung from) than the last followed. Alastor knew who Severus was talking about, and he nodded, already casting a patronus charm and sending a message off to Hestia, asking her to come immediately, that they had new information, that teams needed to be altered.

They would figure this out. They would not sent their people to slaughter. Those children would survive, even if Alastor himself had to go down there and stick Black’s head on a bloody pike himself.

helloxhestia​: ​

Hestia was happy to finally be getting into work today. She’d been trying to for the past four days to find a little time in the office, but even thought it was the day before their next major mission, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to head in, double check her files, and then head back for any finalizing that needed to get done.

Just as she was about to head out the door, a silvery wisp flew in through her window. Moody’s eagle.

The eagle spoke with Moody’s voice and told her she needed to get there immediately. They needed to adjust teams. The day before.

Hestia immediately apparated to the closest location she was able, then stalked into the meeting room, swinging open the doors. 

She was about to acknowledge Moody, when she realized Severus was there as well. Before she could stop herself, she let out an audible groan, knowing exactly what his presence met. She addressed Severus directly.

“What did you hear?”

Severus stared back at Moody’s shocked face, grim but unmoved. The older man cursed creatively, and Severus waited out the initial reaction — it was not unexpected nor undeserved. 

Severus’ mind ran a mile a minute. Bellatrix was the Lieutenant, not some freshly inducted foot soldier on their trial run out to kill a few muggles to get their feet wet. Her involvement plucked a thread of suspicion in Severus’ mind, an unnamed, vague unease, like they were missing something vital that they really shouldn’t. Did Bellatrix volunteer for this mission of her own accord? It didn’t seem unlikely. This was just the thing she’d do on her day off, anyway.

The doors swung open and Hestia stalked inside. Severus lifted an eyebrow at her greeting, but didn’t waste time. ‘ Bellatrix Lestrange and the brothers will be at Liverpool, ’ they said. ‘ I don’t believe the Liverpool team is prepared to face them on their own. ’ They inclined their head towards Moody. ‘ He agrees. ’ Severus wasn’t sure any of their 3-a-piece teams were equipped to deal with the Lestranges on such short notice. Which was what prompted their following suggestion. ‘ Send me to Liverpool. Whatever team we decide on I should be on it. ’

@helloxhestia​ @madeyed-andmoody​

JOHN MURPHY The 100 / Season Seven / Episode 13 / Blood Giant

So did I, Severus thought but didn’t say aloud. They had a busy schedule. They kept up with many duties at once. When the werewolf invited them for coffee they dismissed the idea out of hand, but as they found themself free this afternoon (what a coincidence! How often did a hole in their schedule appear unannounced?) they threw on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, their feet taking them down familiar London streets before they fully realized what they were doing. Or rather, why they were doing it.

The last time they properly set foot in the muggle world was so long ago Severus couldn’t place it accurately. Despite this, they merged into the comfortable flow of foot traffic as seamlessly as they would if they’ve never left. The difference between London’s streets and the silent, furtive shuffle of Diagon’s was unsubtle. It was like the war had disappeared behind them, as real as a troubling dream upon waking. Severus disliked spending more time here than they absolutely had to. Juxtaposed with this comfortable illusion of safety, the reality of their everyday life reimposed itself tenfold.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Dropped his gaze to the table instinctively, then looked at the werewolf, at the hand gesture. Fine, he thought, dragging the metal chair back to take a seat. Fine, then he motioned for the waiter to get him his own coffee (black, no milk, no sugar) and sat down.

He crossed his legs at the knees. Leaned back, elbow resting over the back of the metal chair. He fought the urge to fiddle with his silver earring. ‘ I almost decided this was a joke, ’ he said, the corner of his lips lifted in a smirk. ‘ One last cheap shot for old times’ sake. I haven’t ruled that out yet, just so you know. ’ He watched the werewolf silently, hand close to his wand. Waiting. Wary, but an ever-present anger moving beneath the surface. ‘ What’s this about? ’

WHEN: sometime shortly after Severus joined the order WHERE: muggle coffee shop CLOSED for @wrongdeor

Remus Lupin is not a man of many regrets. In fact, blinding Gryffindor as he is, he’d rather puff out his chest and act like a massive dick, saying he’s never done any wrong, rather than admit to some things he’d like to change in his past. But there are things. Pride sits high up in his chest and refuses to let the words form on his tongue on most days, but he has things to apologise for. In particular, the one time he was, in fact, a monster.

He’s never been proud of hurting people; every time he’s lashed out at his friends through the years, every time the full moon has made its home amongst the stars and some greater evil within him has tried its best to tear apart his friendships, he always crawls back and begs for forgiveness the morning after. He’s not a monster, he doesn’t want to be. Except the one time he is, the one time he’s done one of the worst things he could do, he hides behind his friends and doesn’t think about it ever again. There are layers upon layers of denial that sit atop of whatever foggy memory he has of the prank. He felt used by his friend, like a killing machine upon a leash; he felt inhuman for the first time in years; he was a monster who had nearly killed someone. It was easier to push all of it away, deal with none of it, and act like it didn’t happen.

It felt like that, until Severus joined the Order. Seeing them more often made the lump in Remus’ throat grow, the guilt and the resentment flooding up his brain until it was a headache he couldn’t get rid of, an ever present ache he was fighting against. He isn’t a man of many regrets, yes, but he’s not going to walk around like a coward, barely able to meet Severus’ eyes. So he sets up a meeting.

“I thought you weren’t gonna show up.” He greets, when Severus finally arrives. There’s a scone forgotten on his plate and a half-empty cup of some overpriced cappuccino concoction in front of him. He blinks up at the other, almost as if dumbfounded by their presence, before he gestures to the seat across from him. “Please." 

elliotofvanity​:

Elliot should have come up with some excuse to, well, to excuse himself; should have retreated and sought Hestia or Wila or someone else who could give him more information; someone who could clarify that Severus Snape really was supposed to be here, with the Order, and why; someone else who had been here longer and could answer impossible questions like what the fucking fuck was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s favorite fuck doing with the Order of the Phoenix? without making things too terribly awkward.

He should have mustered-up some polite nonsense phrase and left.

Instead, when the other wix demanded an explanation, Elliot blurted, “But you’re the Malfoys’ bed-toy,” too shocked to be anything but honest. “You are! Severus Snape. I’ve seen you at a dozen parties.“ He had seen Severus at school, too, but hadn’t paid the quiet, surly, solitary wix nearly as much attention as he had when seeing them waltzed around a ballroom on Lucius Malfoy’s elegant arm, or ensconced in a corner seat with Narcissa giggling gracefully in their ear, or being swept upstairs at the end of the evening by one or both of the fashionable blondes. At school, Severus had been—in their own way—something of a wallflower, too. In the Malfoys’ hands, they had been impossible not to notice.

To see them now…here…none of it made sense. “What are you doing here?”

The boy could’ve said ‘the Dark Lord sent me to kill you’ and it would’ve shocked Severus less. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bed-toy. He covered his face with his hand to hide his laughter but it was too late. ‘ Well aren’t you bold, ’ said Severus, the corners of his lips stretched in a mischievous smirk. Severus was attentive towards the rumors that sprang in his wake, specifically the ones that followed his appearances with Lucius or Narcissa (or both) and it was not entirely for pragmatic reasons that he did so. After all, the tales that followed him at every society event wouldn’t be half as tall without his own delighted efforts. And the Malfoys’ bed-toy was not only the least offensive but also the least inaccurate. 

People just didn’t usually say it to his face.

He stepped towards the boy, eyes gleaming with interest. ‘ Elliot Vanity, ’ said Severus, stopping right before him, sinking into his mind like a wide net onto dense water. Thoughts jumped to his hands like fish, eager to be caught. ‘ That’s who you are. The newest recruit. ’ He didn’t know what they were thinking, bringing in a pureblood society brat into the fold — didn’t they have enough of those lying about already? — but that was a discussion for later. He shoved the inventory paper at the boy’s chest. ‘ Here’s your first assignment: restock the cabinets, ’ Severus folded his arms and looked at Vanity expectantly. ‘ If you drop one, you’ll get kicked out of the Order. ’ He turned around and walked back towards his satchel of brews. He couldn’t help adding, with a flippant tone, ‘ and just so you know, they’re as much mine as I am theirs. ’ The bedroom was an equal opportunity playground.

@theoselwyn​

June 24th, 1984. Liverpool.

The wail of the amulets cut through the quiet afternoon like a sword. There was a split second of silence when the three of them exchanged looks, then — with a pop, Severus was on the other side of the house where Prewett and Selwyn were and where the signal was coming from.

Where’s Prewett, Severus thought, seeing the squadron of Death Eaters plow their way through the street, heedless of the attention they were getting from the gathering crowd. One of the masked figures stepped forward and sent a curse out flying towards a bystander — the muggle dropped on the spot and didn’t move. It didn’t take long for the crowd to descend into chaos, people running in every direction as the Death Eaters continued their march. 

There was no time to find Prewett. They jumped into the fray without a second thought.

perniciouspotter​:

James had been released from Mungo’s three days prior and had spent nearly every waking moment with Sirius since then. The day after his return home - well, to Godric’s Hollow, which was apparently his home now because the Estate had been sold and his flat with Lily was no longer his in the same way she was no longer his - he’d pulled out a bottle of Odgen’s wordlessly looking at Sirius for confirmation that his friend would get drunk with him. It was a bad idea - he was still on pain potions daily for the ache in his joints and the excruciating burning in his wrist - but he didn’t care.

The alcohol mixed with the potions had hit him hard and he’d spent the evening barely coherent, sobbing tears that wracked his body, rambling to Sirius about losing Lily and the dungeons and Remus and Peter and how everything was fucking fucked! Which is maybe why, hungover and bruised in his body and heart, when Rosier had come knocking the day after with a possible solution, James had hardly taken even a minute before he agreed.

Of course, it had to be Snivellus. Fucking Snape, who had conveniently reappeared back in their lives the moment James had left it. James had learned of Severus’ deflection to the Order while still in Mungos - had heard about his remerging friendship with Lily laying in the hospital bed. The day he’d learned it, he’d purposefully turned his wrist over and over again until the pain had caused him to scream out the way he’d been aiming for and the healers gave him something stronger and he’d fallen blissfully asleep.

But he needed Severus, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His wrist had been bothering him since that flower had peaked out and he could no longer use a wand. His non-dominant hand was shit with magic and they were still in a bloody war. So, on the very last day of the month, James opened up his door to Severus Snape and didn’t openly scowl at him. “Sniv - “ he began, old habits dying hard, but he adjusted it quickly. “Snape.” He jerked his head and stepped aside, allowing Severus into his home. “So… you can cure me,” he continued, his tone even, almost monotone. “I’m surprised you want to. Don’t wanna go for the final punch when I’m already down? Why, maybe you actually have grown since school.”

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’