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December 3rd.
There were twenty-two days left until Christmas, but the Potter family already wanted to have a Christmas dinner with all their relatives, all of them, even those they hadn’t seen for centuries.
Severus was restless. It would be the first time he would meet his in-laws and he wanted to make a good impression. He wouldn't tell James for the world, but he had spent the last seventy-two hours rehearsing a sophisticated laugh, practicing posture in front of the mirror, and preparing for questions he imagined were common in traditional families like:
“What do you intend to do when you finish university?”
“What benefits do you bring to our family?”
“Why should you be a Potter?”
He knew that probably no one would say that, but James’s comments about how his parents were “serious and unfriendly” had him trembling as if he were about to face a jury.
To ease the anxiety, Severus made some desserts to bring. Nothing too fancy… but enough so it wouldn't seem like he was just going there to eat.
— “Do you think it’s okay?” — he asked, packing another dessert with extreme care.
— “Jaanu, you made so many desserts I think we’ll just eat this.” — James laughed, watching him close the fifth package.
— “Well, you said there are about a hundred guests, right? Maybe I should make about seven more for—”
— “Love, it’s all okay.” — James approached and held his hands. He knew that when anxiety hit, Severus cooked, and cooked like a madman. — “It’s just a dinner, not a battlefield. There will be food for everyone.”
Severus looked away.
— “Right… it’s just that… I don’t know if I should go.”
— “You not only should, but you have to. My parents are crazy to meet you.”
— “And if they don’t like me…?”
James took a deep breath, as if that were the most absurd question he’d ever heard.
— “Meri jaan… the one who is going to marry you one day is me, not them.” — His voice was firm and sweet at the same time. — “If I chose you to be my partner, and to carry our pups, then it’s you. Forever. I can’t imagine my life, not even for a day, without you.”
Severus’s face flushed instantly, and he averted his gaze, trying to hide the shy smile that always betrayed him. Four years of relationship and he still didn’t know how to handle James’s decisive and affectionate way.
— “We’ll have mini Severus blowing up the house with potions… and mini James running around.” — James kissed his forehead, smiling. — “Now… how about we take a shower while you show me what else these soft, delicious hands are good for…?”
He stole a quick kiss from Severus’s lips, who stood still for half a second, before being pulled into the bathroom, laughing softly, defeated by his boyfriend’s irresistible charm.
James closed the bathroom door with his foot, a mischievous smile on his lips, while his hands were already unbuttoning Severus’s shirt.
— “James… the desserts…” — Severus murmured, but the protest was lost in the kiss that was stolen from him again, deeper this time.
— “The desserts can wait.” — James whispered against his mouth, his fingers now buried in Severus’s black, oily hair, which he insisted had the perfect texture. — “You, on the other hand, cannot.”
The tension that had turned Severus’s shoulders to stone began to dissolve under the familiar touches. James had that gift, transforming his internal turmoil into something manageable, almost insignificant, with simple proximity. The hands that minutes before trembled while tying ribbons now gripped James’s waist, pulling him closer, seeking anchorage.
— “Now it’s just the two of us… forget the dinner. Focus only on me.”
James didn’t reach for the faucet, there was no rush for water or steam. The only moisture needed was what already moistened Severus’s lips, the discreet sweat on James’s nape. Touch was everything.
With deliberate movements, James slid his hands under the boy’s shirt, warm palms finding the pale, smooth skin of his back. A shiver ran down Severus’s spine, a stolen sigh escaping him when James’s fingers found the mark on his tailbone, a small mole he knew so well.
— “Here…” — James whispered, his lips tracing the line of Severus’s jaw to his ear. — “This is where you tense up the most when you’re nervous.”
Severus closed his eyes, surrendering to that intimate knowledge, to that precise reading of his body that James had cultivated over the years. His own hands found the hem of James’s t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head in an urgent movement. Skin against skin, warm and real, pushed away the last ghosts of anxiety.
— “I need you…” — Severus confessed in a breath, his voice rougher than usual, stripped of that sarcastic armor. It was a rare admission, a total surrender.
James responded with actions, not words. His kisses descended from his lip to his neck, to the exposed collarbone, while his hands worked on the fastenings of Severus’s pants. The fabric yielded, slid, pooling at their feet. The cold air of the bathroom contrasted with the heat emanating from them, shivers giving way to a wave of intense desire.
Severus took a step back, his back finding the cold surface of the door. The pressure was firm, anchoring him in the present moment. His dark eyes, always so analytical, were now dark in a different way, dilated by pure need. He pulled James to him, their bodies aligning perfectly, every curve and angle a familiar complement.
— “Don’t be gentle.” — Severus ordered, his voice a thread of cutting silk. — “Don’t treat me like I’ll break.”
A slow, understanding smile appeared on James’s lips. He understood. Gentleness, now, would be an insult. It would be treating Severus’s strength, his fierce resilience, as fragility. He took both of his boyfriend’s hands, intertwining his fingers with his, and raised them, pinning them against the door above Severus’s head. The movement stretched the boy’s slender body, exposing him completely, in a silent and confident offer.
— “Never.” — James promised, his hot breath against his partner’s parted lips.
He removed the pre-come soaked underwear from his boyfriend and took off his own pants and underwear.
The kiss that followed was a conquest, a fusion of tongues and teeth and muffled sighs. It was desperate and slow at the same time, a contradiction only they could navigate.
His lips abandoned Severus’s mouth and traced a slow, burning path down the column of his neck, over the prominence of his Adam’s apple, to the point where the collarbones formed a deep hollow. There, he bit. Not a soft nibble, but a firm, possessive pressure that would sprout a purple, unequivocal mark in a few hours. Severus emitted a rough sound, between a moan and a panting sigh, his fingers contracting in James’s against the door.
— “Is this what you want?” — He whispered, his voice rough as sandpaper against the boy’s damp skin. His free hand descended, not with a caress, but with possession, gripping Severus’s firm buttock, his fingers digging into the pale flesh with enough force to leave fingerprints. — “Do you want me to remind you that you’re real, that this is real, that we are real? That no family dinner will change the fact that you belong to me?”
— “Yes…” — Severus said quietly, the word almost a growl. His head fell back, hitting the wood with a dull thud. — “James… please…”
The “please” was not a plea for clemency. It was a demand, a complete capitulation. James responded with a low growl of approval.
Instead of turning him, James released one of his hands, only the right one, keeping the left still intertwined with Severus’s and pinned against the door. The free hand shot down like lightning to grab the back of Severus’s right thigh. With a sharp, strong movement, he lifted Severus’s leg, hooking it over his own hip. The movement was so sudden that Severus staggered, his precarious balance now totally dependent on James and the support point on the door. His back arched, forcing his hips forward, into an even more vulnerable and open presentation.
— “Like this…” — James whispered, his voice a hoarse, hot whisper against Severus’s parted lips. The new position aligned them perfectly. The rigid, throbbing tip of James found the tense, neglected entrance, pressing with an insistence that made the muscles in Severus’s stomach contract. — “…like this you are completely at my mercy.”
Severus gasped, his dark eyes wide, fixed on James’s. The pain of the stretched leg, the pressure on the door, the burning, imminent promise at the junction of their bodies — it was an overload of sensations that anchored him brutally in the present.
The preparation had been the fingers, the urgency, the moisture of Snape’s own body. He spat into his own hand, the crude sound echoing, and then quickly spread the moisture over himself, lubricating only the swollen, red head.
— “Breathe.” — James ordered, not a request, but a command.
Severus tried. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against James’s. And at the moment of exhalation, when his body was most relaxed, James pushed.
It was a slow, relentless invasion. He forced the entrance, agonizing millimeter by agonizing millimeter, opening him with a fierce determination. The sensation was of being split in half, torn apart by a column of living fire. A long, continuous moan was ripped from Severus’s throat, his fingers contracting in James’s against the door. James didn’t stop until he was completely embedded, until their pelvic bones met with a dull impact. Inside, he stopped, trembling, his face contorted in a mask of ecstasy and concentration.
— “Merlin… Meri Jaan…” — he groaned, teeth clenched. — “You… squeeze me… like a vise…”
The pain was overwhelming, a white fire in Severus’s guts. But beneath it, a deep fullness began to emerge, a sensation of being filled beyond his capacity. He was impaled, and it was the most real thing he had ever felt.
James began to move. First, a tiny withdrawal, which made Severus grit his teeth, followed by a new advance, even deeper. He established a slow, torturous, and deep rhythm. Each inward movement was a conquest, each withdrawal a promise of return. He wasn’t pounding against his partner; he was cultivating him, digging in the same furrow with devastating precision.
The hand holding Severus’s thigh gripped it tightly, fingers leaving sure marks on the pale flesh. The other hand, still intertwined with Severus’s, squeezed it with a force that hurt his bones.
James felt Severus’s body writhe beneath him. The slow, deep rhythm was a deliberate torture, a way of prolonging each instant of brutal connection between them. He watched his boyfriend’s face, eyelids clenched, mouth parted in rough sighs, sweat tracing his temples. He wanted more. He wanted to see, feel, possess every inch.
He leaned forward, his chest brushing against Severus’s, and his lips abandoned the boy’s mouth to descend on a burning trail. He passed the points he already knew so well; the hollow of the collarbone, the rapid pulse at the base of the neck, until he found one of Severus’s small, pale, and now hardened nipples.
James was not gentle.
His lips closed around the small protrusion, and his tongue licked it once, quick and rough, feeling it contract even more under the touch. Severus arched with a muffled squeal, his fingers twisting in James’s against the door.
— “James…” — he moaned, a sound that was part protest, part plea.
James ignored it. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, applying a strong, constant suction pressure, while the tip of his tongue hammered and swirled over the sensitive tip. At the same time, his hips didn’t stop, maintaining that relentless rhythm of in and out, each thrust now gaining a new layer of sensation for Severus, who seemed to be pulled in two opposite directions of pleasure.
Then, James bit. It wasn’t a soft or delicate bite. It was a firm, decisive pressure of his teeth on the already swollen and vulnerable nipple. The sensation of sharp-pain-pleasure that shot through Severus was so intense his legs almost gave way. A hoarse, broken cry echoed in the bathroom, and James felt Severus’s internal muscles contract violently around him, an almost painful squeeze that made his eyes roll back in ecstasy.
— “That’s it…” — he growled, his voice muffled against Severus’s chest. He released the right nipple, now red and marked, and moved to the left one, repeating the ritual with the same fierce intensity. Lick, suck, bite. Severus was trembling uncontrollably now, his moans continuous, a melody of pure submission and pleasure.
Each bite, each suck, was a mark of possession, a physical affirmation of what James’s words had already declared. “I can’t imagine my life, not even for a day, without you.”
Potter alternated between the two breasts, his mouth voracious, leaving the pale skin red and speckled with purple marks that would last for days. Meanwhile, his sexual rhythm intensified. The slow, deep movement transformed into faster, harder thrusts, each one driven by Severus’s visceral reaction to his bites.
The hand holding Severus’s thigh moved up, gripping his hip with even more force, giving James leverage to bury himself even deeper. The other hand, finally, released Severus’s from the door. Instead, it descended between their bodies, his fingers finding his partner’s neglected, throbbing member, now drenched in his own pre-come and the sweat of both.
James grabbed it with a firm, rough grip, his fingers closing around the sensitive length. The combination was devastating: James’s mouth on his chest, biting; James’s hand on his erection, rubbing with crude friction; and the member inside him, hitting the exact spot that made the world crumble.
— “You’re so close…” — James whispered, his lips now near Severus’s ear, his breath panting and hot. — “I can feel it… you’re trembling inside… holding back… don’t hold back, my love… come for me…”
Severus could no longer form thoughts. He was a whirlwind of contradictory sensations: pain and pleasure, possession and surrender, fear and absolute security. His body was tense like a bow, every muscle prepared for the inevitable burst.
— “James… I can’t… I’m going to…” — he cried, disoriented, his voice a small, broken thing.
— “Yes.” — James ordered, his voice a final commanding growl. He bit Severus’s earlobe at the same time as his hand gave a firm, decisive tug on his member and his hips delivered a final, deep, and brutal thrust.
It was the trigger. The orgasm exploded through Severus like a line of gunpowder. There was no wave, there was a seismic tremor. His body arched violently away from the door, only to be pulled back by James’s iron arm. A hot, copious jet of semen shot between their bodies, staining their stomachs, while inside, his muscles convulsed in chaotic, irresistible spasms, milking James with a primitive force.
The intense, rhythmic squeeze was James’s sentence. With a gut-wrenching roar that was pure release, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded. Severus felt each hot pulse, each jet that filled and marked him inside, an intimate flood that seemed to seal what they had done. James trembled violently against him, his full weight collapsing onto Severus, supported only by the door.
They collapsed together on the cold bathroom floor, a tangle of trembling, panting limbs. James was still inside Severus, enveloped by him, both covered in sweat, semen, and the crude truth of sex. Gradually, the panting breath gave way to deep sighs. James, with slow, heavy movements, withdrew, making Severus shudder with a last weak moan.
— “I think we’d better… take a shower.” — He smiled sideways, slid his hands around his partner’s waist and, in a firm, secure movement, lifted James into his arms, eliciting a surprised laugh from him, before carrying him straight under the shower.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
— “Sevie, stop messing with that scarf.”
— “I can’t. I feel it choking me.”
— “It’s not the scarf, it’s your anxiety.”
James stopped walking, holding Severus by the shoulders with firm gentleness. Carefully, he adjusted the scarf around his neck, undoing the tight knot Severus had created without realizing.
— “Look at me.”
Severus slowly raised his eyes.
— “We’re already here in front. Everything will be fine. Trust me.”
James brought his face closer, speaking in a hot whisper that only he could hear:
— “There is no one in the world who doesn’t like you.”
His fingers brushed Severus’s cheek; he smiled in a way that seemed to dismantle him from the inside.
— “And even if there were… you’d still have me.”
— “You’re an idiot…”
James laughed softly, leaning in even more. — “Definitely. But I’m your idiot, jaanu.”
James knocked on his parents’ door. From outside, you could already hear laughter, animated conversations, and the cozy sound of cutlery hitting porcelain. The entire house seemed to vibrate, so alive that Severus felt the anxiety tremble in his bones.
The door opened with a light snap, revealing a woman with long, curly hair, a smile so open it illuminated the entire entrance.
— “James Fleamont Potter, you remembered you have a home?”
— “Mum—”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Grabbed her son in a hug that seemed capable of breaking ribs.
— “Look at you! So skinny.”
— “I’m at my ideal weight, Mum.” — James complained, half laughing, half suffocated.
And then she looked over his shoulder, finally noticing the rigid and elegantly uncomfortable figure behind him.
Severus felt his heart stop for a whole second.
— “You must be Severus, right? I’m Euphemia, Jay’s mum.”
Her smile was so affectionate, so open, so genuinely welcoming that Severus almost lost his breath.
Nothing in that woman’s expression, neither in the warm eyes, nor in the light posture, nor in the sweet tone of her voice, matched the severe, cold, and “unfriendly” image James had described to him.
For a moment, Severus doubted everything.
He doubted this was the same woman James always spoke of with respect, but also with soft fear.
He even doubted his own ability to interpret people, because Euphemia Potter seemed anything but frightening.
She smiled even more, as if she were seeing someone dear for the first time.
And Severus… didn’t know what to do with so much affection coming from so close.
— “Yes… yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
— “Oh, I’m so glad Jay brought a different friend this time.” — She commented, laughing lightly. — “We can say I’ve seen the ‘Marauders’ together so many times I can’t take it anymore. And you can call me ‘Euphie’, dear.”
Friend.
The word fell like a stone at the house’s door.
Severus blinked, the polite smile freezing on his face.
He quickly turned his gaze to James, expecting a gesture, a correction, anything.
But James didn’t look back.
He didn’t open his mouth.
He didn’t correct his mother.
He didn’t even move a millimeter to deny it.
His hand on the gift bag remained firm.
The smile on his face remained impeccable.
And Severus felt something inside him sink silently, like ice cracking under too much weight.
Maybe James hadn’t heard.
Or maybe he expected Severus to correct it.
Or, the explanation that hurt less, maybe Euphemia was really friendly, but simply didn’t know about her son’s sexuality.
Severus decided to cling to the last option.
He didn’t know Euphemia Potter.
James did.
And if James didn’t seem worried, he would try not to seem so either.
— “Let’s go inside. I’ll introduce you to the whole family, Severus. Don’t be scared of some of us.” — said Euphemia, excitedly.
— “Mum, you don’t need to… Severus is a bit shy.”
Severus.
The word sounded strange.
It crossed the air like a cold touch.
James almost never called him that.
It was always Sevie, jaanu, prince, love, sweetheart, any affectionate variation that left the proper name reserved for serious occasions… or for when they were fighting.
Or, now, for when James didn’t want to raise suspicions.
It was weird.
It was uncomfortable.
It was… a sudden reminder that James still hadn’t told his parents.
Severus swallowed dryly and followed his mother-in-law into the house, even though his legs seemed made of mist.
Euphemia put the desserts they brought in the fridge and, excitedly, began the grand tour of the family.
Each room, each hallway, each arm that appeared to hug James was accompanied by new introductions:
“This is Severus, Jay’s friend.”
“This here is his housemate.”
“Ah, yes, they live together during the year.”
Never boyfriend.
Never partner.
Never what he really was.
And the worst: that didn’t seem to bother James.
He smiled, greeted, laughed at his uncles’ jokes, hugged cousins, talked as if everything was absolutely in order, as if calling Severus a friend was natural.
As if nothing was wrong.
Meanwhile, Severus was slowly sinking inside himself, each introduction like a cold squeeze in his throat.
He was there.
With James.
At the Potter family home.
And yet… he was invisible.
Or worse: he was just a friend.
Mr. Potter finally came to meet his son.
— “Well, well… look who the snow brought here. I was starting to think you’d refuse your old man’s request.”
— “Don’t be dramatic, Dad. I just didn’t come for the last two Christmases.” — James replied, laughing.
Fleamont then looked at Severus, then back at his son, a mischievous smile appearing on his face.
— “I see you finally understood that hanging out with Sirius Black wasn’t exactly a future plan… and decided to get a boyfriend?”
He tilted his head, assessing Severus with visible approval.
— “What a beautiful omega you have there, Jay.”
Blood immediately rushed to Severus’s face.
He blushed.
And smiled, shyly, not knowing where to look.
— “He’s my friend, Dad. And stop trying to throw your pheromones at him.”
— “Friend?!” — Fleamont brought his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. — “My Merlin, there’s no friendship between omegas and alphas, but… you know best.”
Before James could protest, the older man approached Severus with all the elegance of an experienced gray wolf who knows exactly the damage he causes.
He took Severus’s hand with exaggerated delicacy… and kissed his palm.
— “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And if my son bores you, you can come find me. I always have time for a beautiful omega.”
Severus completely froze.
His entire face caught fire.
He didn’t know whether to thank, hide behind the curtain, or simply faint.
James, by pure reflex, and completely unaware, released his alpha pheromones.
It was instantaneous:
A warm, protective, possessive wave, marking territory with the subtlety of a wildfire.
Fleamont let out a laugh upon feeling the pressure in the air and looked over his shoulder.
— “Ah, so he’s your friend, right, James?”
James froze.
Severus froze.
Even the Christmas tree seemed to freeze for a second.
— “We are—” — Severus began, but the sentence died in his throat when a high-pitched scream echoed through the entrance.
Euphemia let out an excited “finally!” and ran to the door, hugging someone tightly before the person even had time to enter.
Severus saw a figure first.
Then the silhouette.
And then, unmistakable, the shining red hair under the light.
Lily Evans.
His ex–best friend.
And, worse, James’s first love.
Severus’s heart sank so fast it almost made a sound.
Lily entered laughing, radiant, beautiful as ever, balancing gifts, shopping bags, an elegant coat hanging on her arm, and hugging Euphemia like a real daughter.
Severus swallowed dryly.
And then looked at James.
He was standing still.
Motionless.
Mouth agape.
And Severus recognized that look.
That gleam in James’s eyes, the gleam of someone who has just been surprised by a piece of the past that still hurts, even if he never admits it.
It was the same gleam Severus saw, years ago, whenever Lily and James exchanged childish glances full of unresolved things.
Lily smiled.
James didn’t blink.
And Severus… felt the floor disappear beneath his feet.
Euphemia pulled Lily by the hand, excitedly, bringing her directly close to James as if reuniting two lost lovers.
And, the instant Lily approached, James took a step forward.
Quick. Automatic. Instinctive.
And placed himself between her and Severus.
As if Severus…
wasn’t there.
Didn’t matter there.
Wasn’t part of that world.
As if he were someone who needed to be hidden.
Lily smiled at James with a gleam in her eyes.
James smiled back, a hesitant smile, but fixed on her.
And Severus stayed behind, invisible, like a forgotten shadow in a house that wasn’t his.
— “James, my God, it’s been five years!”
— “I know… you haven’t changed a bit.”
Lily laughed, excited, and was about to take a step closer, but then her eyes passed over James’s shoulder and found Severus, standing behind him as if he were part of the furniture.
Her expression changed.
She noticed.
And looked slightly awkward.
— “Hi…” — she said, gently, with that polite smile given to strangers.
— “Hi…” — Severus replied, too quietly, almost as if apologizing for existing there.
— “Well, since everyone’s arrived, I guess we can start handing out the presents, right?” — Euphemia announced, guiding the whole group into the mansion’s living room.
Severus took advantage of the movement and pulled James’s arm, a small gesture, almost begging for attention.
— “Did something happen?” — James asked, not understanding.
— “Gift exchange? Should I have brought something? Is that why you brought one?”
There was insecurity there. Real fear of having done something wrong.
James sighed, running his thumb over the back of Severus’s hand.
— “Don’t worry about it. Come on.”
He smiled, trying to keep everything light.
— “Everyone gets one. Mum always buys extra presents for when someone forgets.”
Severus nodded, trying to swallow the discomfort, and sat on the living room floor next to James.
The dynamic was simple, almost childish, but fun.
Each person chose who to give the present to. It could be more than one.
The only rule was to say why that person was special.
Simple.
Easy.
Apparently.
Euphemia distributed specific presents to James, to Lily, and to her husband.
Fleamont gave presents to his wife, to his son, and to his sisters, with exaggerated speeches and loud laughter.
Lily gave presents to James’s cousins, to Euphemia, to Fleamont and… to James.
Severus applauded with everyone, but his stomach ached a little.
The exchanges continued.
Presents, speeches, laughter, hugs.
Colored boxes piled on the rug.
Ribbons falling on the floor.
Feelings being exposed without shame, everyone loved each other, everyone knew each other, everyone belonged there.
Until it was James’s turn.
Severus settled in his place, with a small, polite smile.
He hadn’t received anything, of course.
He didn’t expect to receive anything.
Even with the supposed extra presents that James had said Euphie bought “for when someone forgot.”
But when he saw James holding a beautiful present, wrapped in gold paper, his chest filled with something resembling hope.
James stood up and stood in the center of the room, holding the present with both hands.
The conversation around them slowly died down, until only the distant sound of the crackling fireplace remained.
— “Well… I… I bought a special present.” — He took a deep breath. — “It’s a sweater, actually. I know some might think it’s silly… and it is a bit silly, but…”
He turned his face in Severus’s direction.
And Severus felt everything inside him stop.
The air.
His heart.
The whole world.
Because James was looking at him that way, that look that said it’s for you, it was always for you, no one else matters.
Hope, that fragile and ridiculous one, rose through Severus’s chest like a heat that hurt.
But then James breathed again.
And turned.
Turned his body.
Turned his gaze.
Turned the present.
— “I knew it had to be for you…” — he said while running his thumb over the soft fabric, as if caressing an old memory. — “The green reminded me of your eyes and the red details of your hair, just like that day you pushed me into the lake because I accidentally got you wet and you got all annoyed, with your hair stuck to your forehead…”
Lily laughed, covering her mouth lightly, and James laughed along, leaning towards her as if automatically returning to that moment.
— “And I also remembered that Sunday when you were braiding your red strands in the Tower and swore you’d be a redhead forever because ‘it matched me’, remember?” — he lifted the sweater so she could see the greenish hue better. — “And I said it matched you, because everything matched you back then…”
Severus felt his stomach turn. James didn’t notice, he continued.
James held the sweater against his own chest, as if measuring the size.
— “And I swear, Lil, I remembered you wearing that old sweater of your sister’s, the one that was huge on you and that I’d steal just to see if you’d come after me…”
He let out a small, nostalgic laugh.
— “You always did.”
Lily smiled in a way that lit up the room.
And Severus… felt as if the snow outside had invaded his chest.
James extended the sweater to her with a soft gleam in his eyes, the kind of gleam he had never used for Severus in front of anyone.
— “So… I had to give it to you.”
Severus recognized it immediately.
It was the same sweater he had seen days ago.
The one he had timidly complimented.
The one James, laughing, had promised to buy for him, saying:
“It’ll look beautiful on you, prince. I’ll buy it later.”
Except now the sweater was there.
In Lily’s hands.
And Lily smiled.
And James smiled back.
Severus stood motionless.
The whole world seemed to shrink, focusing only on his field of vision: the sweater he wanted, in the hands of the person James loved first, given as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The promise that was theirs… became a present for her.
Severus’s throat closed.
His stomach turned to stone.
His face burned with humiliation, not from shyness, not from silly shame, but from a deep, ancient pain, as if someone had dragged his entire childhood by the neck.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Three times.
And realized that, even trying, he couldn’t find any logical reason for that.
No comfortable excuse.
No gentle justification.
James didn’t forget.
James didn’t get confused.
James chose.
And that choice shattered Severus inside.
Severus stood up so fast that the movement made the gift paper on the rug tremble.
James turned to him, confused, but Severus was no longer there.
Or rather, he was… but only in body.
His heart had been left behind, crushed under that damn green sweater.
He left the room trying to walk with dignity, but the tears were already stinging his eyes.
And as soon as he crossed the mansion’s door, the dignity fell into the snow along with him.
The snow fell heavily, thickly, as if the universe was trying to hide his crying.
James took a few seconds, seconds long enough for Severus to feel he had been left aside once more.
But then he came running after him, calling his name.
— “Severus!”
Severus kept walking, ignoring, ignoring, ignoring, until James ran faster and stopped in front of him, blocking the path.
— “Severus, what’s gotten into you? Why did you leave like that?”
Severus raised his face, and the tears streaming down were not discreet.
They were despair.
Pain.
Humiliation.
He gasped, voice broken:
— “What’s gotten into me?!” — His voice rose, trembling, wounded. — “What’s gotten into you?!”
The tears fell one after another, marking his face like cuts. His breath came out in quick clouds of frustration.
— “You promised…” — His voice failed. — “You said you’d buy it for me.”
James tried to hold back a laugh, but failed.
He let out a short, incredulous sigh.
— “You’re crying over a sweater?” — A bitter chuckle escaped. — “Merlin, Sev… I’ll buy you as many as you want. Come back inside, my parents will get suspicious.”
The sentence fell like a stone in the pit of Severus’s stomach.
Get suspicious.
He repeated the word in his own head before his mouth exploded on its own.
— “Get suspicious?”
Severus’s voice trembled, but not with sadness.
With anger.
Pure, raw, accumulated anger.
He took a step back, as if needing space to breathe.
— “Suspicious of what, James?” — The tears kept falling, but now his expression was different. His face burned with indignation. — “That their son is a fag?”
James slapped him.
The slap was quick, instinctive, as stupid as it was unexpected.
The dry sound echoed in the night, cutting through the cold air.
Severus’s face turned to the side with the force of the impact, and the snow falling on his eyelashes mixed with the tears that wouldn’t stop.
For a second, no one moved.
Not the wind.
Not the air.
Severus slowly brought his hand to his own face, as if not believing it.
As if trying to confirm that it had really happened.
As if his body was trying to catch up to the shock before his mind.
His eyes slowly rose to meet James’s.
And James…
James seemed to have frozen.
His hand still raised.
His breath caught.
His eyes wide with horror.
— “Sev… Sevie, I- I didn’t-”
His voice broke at the same moment the expression fell from his face.
Severus took a step back.
Then another.
The slap hurt.
But it wasn’t the slap that destroyed him.
It was the symbol.
It was the repeated history.
It was the echo of Tobias.
It was being silenced, again.
It was being diminished, again.
It was being invisible, unwanted, inconvenient, a problem.
It was realizing that, when pressured, James chose the version of himself that the world loved.
And not Severus.
Severus’s breath came out trembling, broken, so quiet it seemed like a sob.
— “You… hit me.”
He said as someone stating an impossible truth.
A truth that shouldn’t exist.
James tried to take a step forward, but Severus moved away faster.
— “Severus, I swear, I didn’t- I never- I didn’t mean to-”
— “But you did.”
His voice came out low, calm in a frightening way.
The calm of someone who finally understood.
— “You… did.”
The snow kept falling.
Heavy.
Silent.
As if the whole world was watching that.
Severus took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling quickly, trying not to crumble.
— “Now I understand everything.” — Severus’s voice came out low, without a tremor, firm in a way only those who have passed the limit can achieve.
He took a deep breath, looking at James as if seeing him for the first time.
— “It’s not your parents who are the problem.”
Another step back.
More distance.
More truth.
— “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
Severus brought a hand to his own chest.
And removed the necklace.
The Little Prince necklace.
The first gift James had ever given him.
The symbol of the first “I love you”.
The object he never removed, not to sleep, not to shower.
The metal gleamed in his icy palm, and for a moment James saw himself reflected in it.
Severus didn’t even blink.
He just… let go.
He threw the necklace towards him.
James tried to catch it, by reflex, by desperation, but he failed.
The necklace hit his hand, slipped, and fell into the soft snow with a gentle sound, almost too merciful for that moment.
James stared at the fallen object as if it were an open wound.
As if the necklace had transformed into the body of something dying right there, between them.
Severus watched.
Cold.
Broken.
Tired.
— “Now I finally understand…”
His voice held no more anger.
Severus turned on his heel without looking back.
And walked away.
The snow absorbed the sound of his footsteps.
The night swallowed the tall, thin figure, leaving with the heart James never knew how to hold.
And James… remained motionless.
With his face burning.
The hand that had been struck still suspended in the air.
And the necklace buried in the snow at his feet — exactly where he had let it fall.