Y/N stood at the edge of the Great Hall, watching as the students filed in, their voices a steady hum of excitement for the start of the new term. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the cloudy sky outside, casting a soft, dim glow over the long rows of tables. She had been at Hogwarts for less than a week, and while the castle was as breathtaking as she'd remembered from her own school days, there was an undeniable tension simmering in her chest. This wasn’t how she imagined her first day as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would be.
Y/N smoothed the front of her robes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Teaching was something she had long dreamed of, the culmination of years of study and experience. She had spent so long preparing for this, but now that she was here, all she could think about was how wrong everything felt.
Severus Snape, dark and imposing, swept into the hall with his signature black cloak billowing behind him. His presence seemed to draw a line through the room, as students instinctively shifted their attention elsewhere. There was something about him that demanded authority without ever needing to speak a word. His eyes, black as coal, flicked toward her, and for a split second, their gazes locked.
She knew of Severus Snape, of course. Everyone in the wizarding world did. His reputation preceded him—brilliant, mysterious, and feared in equal measure. And though Y/N had spent only a few days at Hogwarts so far, she had already heard whispers from the staff about his resentment over her appointment. He had wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for years, but once again, Dumbledore had passed him over. Instead, he had chosen her.
The thought made her feel uneasy. She had earned this position, hadn’t she? She had the qualifications, the passion. But it wasn’t lost on her that in taking this role, she had also taken something from him, something he had coveted for years.
The low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Snape stood before her, his presence overwhelming. He was taller than she had imagined, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they roamed over her. She felt a chill creep up her spine, the intensity of his gaze unnerving.
“Professor Snape,” she greeted, trying to sound confident, even though her heart was pounding. She extended her hand toward him, forcing a polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Snape stared at her hand for a long moment, as if it were something distasteful. He didn’t take it. Instead, he raised one eyebrow, his lips curling into something that was not quite a smile.
“I wasn’t aware that anyone would consider this position ‘nice,’” he drawled, his voice laced with a cruel edge.
Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, but she refused to let him rattle her. She dropped her hand, shifting her weight uneasily. “Well, I’m looking forward to it,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ve always wanted to teach.”
Snape’s dark eyes flicked over her again, assessing. There was something almost predatory in his gaze, and Y/N had the sudden feeling that she was being weighed and found wanting.
“Ambition is a curious thing,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “It often blinds people to their own limitations.”
Her stomach twisted at the veiled insult, but before she could respond, he turned on his heel, his black cloak sweeping dramatically behind him as he walked away. Y/N stood there, frozen for a moment, her hand still hovering awkwardly at her side. The encounter left a bitter taste in her mouth.
This was going to be a lot harder than she had expected.
The first weeks of the semester passed in a blur of lesson planning, classroom management, and a never-ending stream of essays to grade. Y/N tried her best to settle into her role as a professor, but every time she thought she was making progress, Snape would find some way to tear her down.
His disdain for her was palpable, and it wasn’t just confined to their private interactions. He made it a point to undermine her in front of the other staff members during meetings, offering sharp, pointed criticisms of her teaching methods or her knowledge of defensive spells. It was as though he relished in watching her struggle, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips whenever he found an opportunity to belittle her.
“What were you thinking with that Shield Charm demonstration, Y/L/N?” he sneered one afternoon during a staff meeting. His voice carried through the room like a whip crack. “Do you think sending third-years into the Hospital Wing is part of the curriculum now?”
Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment as several of the professors turned to look at her. Her Shield Charm lesson had gone a little off-track when one of the students had been too eager with their spell casting, causing a minor explosion that resulted in a few singed eyebrows. But she had managed the situation, hadn’t she?
“I… It was an accident,” Y/N stammered, trying to defend herself. “I handled it.”
“Handled it?” Snape’s voice was sharp, dripping with derision. “Perhaps next time, you might consider teaching them proper restraint, or at the very least, monitoring their incompetence more carefully.”
Dumbledore, seated at the head of the table, glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. But he said nothing, choosing instead to let the exchange run its course. Y/N bit her lip, resisting the urge to snap back at Snape. What good would it do? He would only twist her words against her, just like he always did.
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” she replied through gritted teeth.
Snape smirked, clearly satisfied with her submission. The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully, but Y/N’s mind was spinning. His insults were becoming more personal with each passing day, and no matter how much she tried to ignore them, they ate away at her confidence. She began to dread their interactions, the knots in her stomach tightening every time she saw him enter a room.
She couldn’t understand it. Was this simply his bitterness over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, or was there something else? Some unspoken hostility that went deeper than mere professional rivalry?
By the time the winter holidays approached, Y/N felt like a shadow of her former self. The bright enthusiasm she had brought with her at the start of the term had long since faded, replaced by a dull sense of dread that hung over her every day. Her students seemed to enjoy her classes, and for the most part, they were performing well. But nothing she did felt like it mattered when Snape was constantly tearing her down.
She had tried everything—keeping her head down, avoiding unnecessary interactions with him, even seeking advice from other staff members on how to deal with his unrelenting hostility. But no matter what she did, Snape’s cold cruelty persisted, an ever-present thorn in her side.
One evening, after a particularly brutal day in which Snape had publicly criticized her handling of a difficult fourth-year lesson, Y/N found herself sitting alone in her office, staring down at a blank piece of parchment. The weight of the past few months pressed heavily on her chest, and as she sat there in the dim candlelight, a thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind finally solidified into something tangible.
She was done. She couldn’t do this anymore.
With a heavy heart, she dipped her quill into ink and began writing her resignation letter.
The next morning, Y/N stood outside Dumbledore’s office, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the folded letter in her grasp. The gargoyle guarding the entrance slid aside as she gave the password, and moments later, she found herself standing before the headmaster, who looked up from his desk with a gentle smile.
“Professor Y/L/N,” Dumbledore greeted warmly, motioning for her to take a seat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Y/N hesitated for a moment before placing the letter on his desk. “I… I’ve come to resign, Headmaster,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dumbledore’s expression softened as he reached for the letter, unfolding it slowly. He read the contents in silence, his sharp blue eyes scanning the page with a mixture of sadness and understanding.
“May I ask why?” he inquired gently, folding the letter back up and setting it down in front of him.
Y/N swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. She had promised herself she wouldn’t mention Snape—she didn’t want to sound like she was running away because of him. But the truth was gnawing at her, making her feel small and powerless.
“I just… I don’t think teaching is for me,” she said, her voice hollow. “I thought it would be different, but I… I’m not cut out for this.”
Dumbledore watched her closely, his keen eyes piercing through her flimsy excuse. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet concern.
Y/N hesitated. She wanted to tell him everything—to lay bare the truth about how Snape had made her life miserable, how his constant belittling had drained every ounce of joy from the job she had once loved. But a part of her didn’t want to give Snape the satisfaction of knowing he had broken her.
“I just don’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would,” she said finally, her voice small.
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment , studying her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Finally, he sighed, leaning back in his chair.
“Y/N, I can understand that teaching can be a challenging endeavor, especially here at Hogwarts,” he began thoughtfully. “But I must ask you to reconsider. You’re an excellent educator, and the students have greatly benefited from your knowledge and passion. If it’s merely a matter of adjustment, I would implore you to at least finish the academic year. I can’t deny that I’ve noticed some tension between you and Professor Snape.”
Y/N felt a flush of indignation rising within her. “It’s not just about him!” she snapped, the emotion spilling over before she could catch it. She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down. “I mean, I don’t like teaching anymore. The constant second-guessing and criticism have worn me down.”
Dumbledore nodded, his expression kind yet resolute. “That may be true, but I believe that you are more capable than you give yourself credit for. In the meantime, I will speak with Severus about his treatment of you, as it’s evident that it has had an impact.”
Her heart sank at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to be the subject of more scrutiny or gossip among the faculty. She appreciated Dumbledore’s intentions, but it felt like he was missing the point entirely.
“Headmaster,” Y/N began, her voice wavering slightly, “I’d really rather not make a scene. I just want to leave quietly.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with understanding. “As you wish, Y/N. But do take some time to think it over. Sometimes, when we’re under pressure, our perspective can become clouded. I would hate to see you make a decision that you might regret later.”
Y/N nodded slowly, knowing he meant well but feeling cornered by his gentle insistence.
“Very well,” she murmured, standing to leave. “I’ll consider it.”
The rest of the day was a blur. Y/N moved through her classes in a daze, answering questions but barely retaining focus on her students. She could feel the weight of Dumbledore’s words pressing on her shoulders, mingling with her sense of dread about Snape.
Later that evening, as she entered the staff room to prepare for her next lesson, she noticed Snape was already there, his back turned to her as he meticulously arranged potion ingredients on the table. The sight of him sent a rush of anxiety through her, and she hesitated in the doorway.
“Professor Y/L/N,” Snape’s voice cut through the silence, low and disdainful without looking at her. “You do realize that the ingredients are supposed to be measured, not simply dumped haphazardly into the cauldron?”
Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the anger bubbling inside her. “I’m not in your Potions class, Severus,” she replied evenly, crossing the room. “I’m here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, not to take lessons in potion-making from you.”
He turned to face her, his dark eyes narrowing in irritation. “Perhaps if you focused on the subject you’re actually teaching instead of taking cues from everyone else, you wouldn’t find yourself struggling so much,” he snapped, his tone harsher than necessary.
For a moment, Y/N’s anger flared, igniting a fierce response inside her. “You don’t know anything about my classes, Severus,” she shot back, her voice rising. “You don’t have to be so cruel! I’m trying my best here!”
His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flickering across his features before he returned to his impassive demeanor. “Your best is evidently not enough,” he replied coldly.
The words cut deeper than she anticipated, and the lump in her throat grew as she fought back tears. How had they come to this? She had started this journey filled with hope, but now, she felt completely defeated.
“I don’t need to listen to you anymore,” she declared, feeling the tremor of emotion in her voice. “I’m resigning, Severus. You’ve made it clear that I don’t belong here.”
As the words left her mouth, the silence in the room became suffocating. Snape’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw something shift in his expression—confusion, perhaps? Regret?
“You’re serious,” he said slowly, his voice devoid of its usual bite. “You really intend to quit?”
“I can’t take this anymore. I’m tired of your constant insults. I thought this job would be fulfilling, but you’ve turned it into a nightmare.”
Snape opened his mouth, hesitating as if to say something, but then closed it again, his expression darkening. “You think I enjoy this?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer, almost incredulous. “You believe this is personal?”
“What else could it be?” Y/N shot back, her emotions bubbling over. “You’re just cruel for the sake of it!”
His expression shifted again, something vulnerable flashing in his dark eyes before he turned away. “You’re wrong, Y/N,” he murmured, almost to himself.
She blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”
Snape turned to face her again, his gaze intense. “You believe I’m merely tormenting you because I’m spiteful. But this isn’t about you. It never was.”
“Then what is it about?” she pressed, her heart racing as his words hung in the air.
“It’s about me.” He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking. “I was angry when you arrived, angry that Dumbledore chose you over me. And instead of addressing it, I channeled that anger into something I thought would make me feel better.”
Y/N’s heart raced at the revelation. “You think pushing me down will make you feel better?”
“Perhaps it was a misguided way of coping,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “But the truth is that I… I’ve felt something else when I’m near you. Something I’ve fought against. And in my attempts to push it away, I became cruel.”
The confession hung heavy between them, and for the first time, she saw him—really saw him. Behind the bitterness and disdain, there was a flicker of vulnerability. She was taken aback, her resolve faltering as she processed his words.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly. “You don’t have to keep pushing me away.”
He held her gaze, something softening in his expression as he stepped even closer, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. “I don’t know how to be anything else. It’s easier to lash out than to confront what I truly feel.”
Y/N’s heart raced, and the anger she had clung to began to unravel. “And what do you feel?”
The air between them crackled with tension, an electric charge that sent shivers down her spine. Snape looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers as if trying to decipher something within her.
“I feel drawn to you,” he confessed, his voice low and raw. “I didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true. I pushed you away because I didn’t understand it.”
“Severus…” she whispered, caught between confusion and a flicker of hope.
Before she could say more, Snape reached for her, his fingers brushing against her cheek, a gentle yet tentative touch. The world around them faded away, the distance that had felt insurmountable only moments ago dissipating into a shared understanding.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
And in that moment, she knew he meant it. The warmth of his palm against her skin ignited something inside her—an unfamiliar feeling that made her heart race.
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the pull between them, and leaned in, their lips meeting in a tentative kiss that quickly grew deeper. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken words, the frustration, the longing, and the undeniable connection that had been building between them all along.
As they kissed, the rest of the world fell away, and for the first time in months, Y/N felt free. Free from the weight of expectations, free from the bitterness that had clouded her heart.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Snape’s expression was softer than she had ever seen it. “Can we start over?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Y/N smiled, warmth flooding her heart as she nodded. “I’d like that.”
As the year progressed, the transformation between them became evident. Snape was no longer her adversary; instead, he became an ally in the classroom, offering her support rather than criticism. Their conversations shifted from hostile exchanges to something more meaningful, filled with laughter and a deeper understanding of one another.
They spent late nights in the staff room, discussing spells and strategies while sharing their hopes and fears. Snape revealed glimpses of his past, and Y/N found herself opening up about her own experiences, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.
The change in their relationship did not go unnoticed by the other staff members. Dumbledore observed them with a knowing smile, pleased that the tension had lifted, replaced by a genuine camaraderie that breathed new life into the atmosphere at Hogwarts.
By the time the end of the semester rolled around, Y/N was no longer considering resigning. Instead, she found herself excited about teaching and learning alongside Snape. The darkness that had clouded her spirit for so long had finally lifted, and in its place was something entirely new—hope.
On the last day of classes before the holiday break, Y/N stood before her students, a smile on her face as she wrapped up the lesson. “And remember, practice makes perfect. Keep working on your defensive spells over the break!”
The students filed out of the classroom, laughter and chatter echoing in the hallways. As the last student left, she turned to see Snape leaning against the doorframe, his expression softer than it had been at their first meeting.
“Are you ready to leave for the holidays?” he asked, a hint of warmth in his voice.
Y/N nodded, feeling a surge of joy at the thought of spending time with him. “I can’t wait.”
As they stepped out into the corridor, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. For the first time, Hogwarts felt like home, and she knew she had found a place for herself here, not just as a teacher but as someone who belonged.
And in that moment, as she walked beside Severus Snape, she realized that sometimes, love could blossom in the most unexpected places, even in the shadows of the past.
