he fucked that old man is fr the perfect sentence. the amount of payoff. the simplicity of it. the rhythm. just the right amount of detail. this is the kind of sentence that tells you a story. the kind that sticks with you
No matter how crowded the meeting, staff or Order, there was a space reserved for him at the right hand of the Headmaster - and invitation. The niche that Severus had carved, continually refreshed by the greatest wizard of a generation.
No matter how severe the pain, his or the Headmaster’s, there was a persistent, consistent provision of care and concern and caution - and gentleness. The inevitable shadow of mortality, chasing them faster the closer they became.
No matter how dire the information, teaching or spying, there was a single glance or phrasing or intonation that could make him long to crack - and smirk. The knowledge that someone knew precisely what he himself was thinking, and expended effort to exploit such a weakness.
No matter what the situation foretold, the Headmaster could provide both solution and resolution for a younger wizard who needed both a champion and a guide.
No matter what the rage whispered, the Headmaster could with a single touch of two fingers to Severus’ wrist offer both a port in the storm and validation of injustice for a younger man who wanted to change the world without threatening a single life.
No matter what the Shadow demanded, the Headmaster could make Severus laugh, really laugh, laugh until he had forgotten the essential art of breathing, until his eyes stung and he could have begged for mercy - much to the delight and twinkling of the one Severus called a friend and so much more.
So Severus really needed a reason. A reason to dothis. One would be enough.
Another Order meeting. He was late, and there was relief in the older wizard’s face and tone and mental greeting when he arrived, besmirched and befuddled from the gathering storm. “Severus. I’m glad you are here.” A single finger to pull out the chair, and he believed the gladness, and he took the seat under the jealous scrutiny of the other people and the concerned scrutiny of the only person who mattered. Fine, Headmaster; just a long meeting.
The steepling of pale and grey fingers was the only response he needed; the meeting proceeded in the same fashion as always. The hands clasped together in front of the greatest wizard of a generation and Severus saw the tremble and he mentally sought to offer whatever he could, and the Headmaster simply smiled the smallest of smiles. No need, Severus. A twinge, nothing more.
Ageing, Headmaster?
Yet still able to…
And how Severus wanted to smirk, but to smirk would be to lose - lose much more than just his lying facade of disinterested dispassionate disliked Slytherin. But they sobered as there was more talk of death and plots and disrupted information - the Headmaster asked him to seek particular information, Severus nodded just once, and there was a comment that Severus’ information was frequently flawed and
white
hot
rage
he wanted to respond - he wanted to snarl - wanted to drive a clenched fist into a mouth which dared to challenge the loyalty he felt to the cause, the leader, the light, to the Headmaster - two fingers rested on his left wrist, just below the mark that kept him always under suspicion - and though the Headmaster’s voice was calm, it was both a reassuring calm and a dangerous calm. It was a voice that spoke of trust and bode no argument.
They returned to the castle together and alone. In the third floor corridor, where their paths could diverge, Severus saw the flinch and wince again and begged to help. In the shadows of the night, he could see clearly - the tiredness and pain and weariness on that older face. “Let me at least try - “
But his words fell on a silent response.
Instead, Albus just reached a hand up to cup Severus’ cheek and jaw, and it was shockingly cold, but by habit it was always his right hand. The darkened thumb brushed across the dark line under his eye, close enough to disturb eyelashes, and whatever clung to them in desperation. There they stood, connected by a single gesture, apart by mere metres. Then Albus leaned close - and asked, with only the barest of whispers, “Do you feel that?”
He could not answer, but of course he did.
Albus’ smile was sad. “Seek no more.”
just give me a reason, just a little bit’s - enough
~ SS19 31st December 2021
For@snumblesaurus particularly, they know why, and for the rest of my little corner of Tumblr. You are amazing, and I wish you all whatever you wish for 2022.
Usually I would be salty at tumblr for choosing to notify me of your wonderful story only days after the you posted it, but this comes at the perfect time, because I am sick with COVID and really needed this
I just love them so much! Look at how much they can say without saying anything at all
Thank you PSS19, thank you for your story. I really needed some snumbledore to comfort me. And this is lovely, as always, like all your stories.
There is a reason why Albus Dumbledore only meets with his spy at night.
It is easier for them both, at night. He can pretend it is something of convenience, that they would not be overheard, that there is less likely to be students or colleagues wandering without good intent. Their schedules are busy too - Severus teaches, Albus leads - and when the Death-Eater gatherings are finished, it seems the ideal time to speak, and to confer, and to plot, and to reevaluate. It is very convenient to invite Severus to the darkness of the grounds, where safety is construed as familiarity, and neither the gathering storm clouds nor empty expanse of universe stretching above them can threaten too greatly. Hogwarts is safe, after all.
For now.
Albus can also pretend it is easier for Severus, at night - he can drop his facades then, and it is important to Albus that Severus does just that, when in his company. So many faces, so many masks - it is necessary for Albus to see the truest of them all. It is necessary for him to know and to understand, as the spymaster with the many different webs, precisely what is Severus’ true face. It is easier for Severus to show that under the shadow of the darkness - no matter how light the mask truly is. No matter how selfless, self sacrificing, self deprecating. When they know they are alone, the cracks can show. It is both as simple and as complicated as that. Severus can let his guard down, for seconds if nothing else, and it is safe for him to do that.
For now.
And it is easier for Albus, at night. This matters. Albus is the leader of the Light. He cannot afford to be distracted, he cannot afford to stray from his strategy, he cannot afford to second guess himself. He cannot afford the countless hours of planning, immaculate machinations, meticulous decision making, to falter and flounder now. Too many people rely on him - for health, for wealth - for life, for protection - one misstep, one mistake, and it can all come crashing down around them all. The foundations of their Order, the columns of their safety, are bound together by him. Albus binds it all together, with that resolute composed passion of knowing exactly what to do in every situation, in every monment, with every proposition, with every disaster. Albus has to keep his gaze clear - if it clouds, people lose their lives. People Albus cares about - as much as he can care, with such a vulnerable position - will die. People Albus has fought to protect and defend, for decades, will die. The Wizarding World itself will falter, and stumble, and fall - if Albus falters, and stumbles, and falls. So he has to keep the distractions at bay - and if he looked, and if he saw, in the daylight, in the sunlight -
If he saw, the gauntness of the face. If he saw, the slumping of the shoulders. If he saw, the covering of a limp. If he saw, the darkening of the eyes. If he saw, the paling of the cheeks. If he saw, the flinching of muscles. If he saw, the gathering of trauma. If he saw, the wearying of the soul. If he saw all that - if he saw it, truly, he would linger. His gaze would linger, and his empathy would rise, and his heart would contract. He would hesitate. He would pause. He would question whether this was right, whether this was justifiable, whether this could go on. He would question his own motives, his own reasoning, his own decisions. He would question everything - and if he looked - really looked - into those eyes, and he saw them in the daylight, glinting in the sunlight - and if he saw - if he saw -
The determination, the suffering, the nightmares, the pain, the composure, the loyalty, the tiredness, the indecision, the chaos, the calmness, the justification, the torment, the whispers, the darkness, the lightness, the brunt, the burnt, the desire, the tears - if he saw, he would end it. And Albus cannot end it.
Not now.
Not ever.
So he will not look, because he cannot look.
So he cannot look, because he will not look.
There is a reason why Albus Dumbledore only meets with his spy at night.
*And now we’re standing in the sunlight, And I can’t bear the sight…of you.* ~ And So My Heart Became A Void - Ursine Vulpine and Annaca
~ SS19 21st July 2021
Thank you so much for the love on this post, I am very grateful! I am busy working on my PhD interview preparation today, so will be back to post tomorrow - and if anyone wants to shoot any inspiration this way, I will of course be forever indebted as what I wanted to write…will not be written….yet.
Albus’s hands are slender and long, with knobbly knuckles; his skin is papery and creased. Severus can count three sunspots just on his hands. There is another low on his cheekbone, and he wonders idly how pronounced the tan line on his face would be if the old man were to shave. Albus holds out a cup – for he knows that Severus will accept – and Severus pretends not to notice how it shakes.
So I started reading the Harry Potter books, and I can help but ship Snape and Dumbledore.
Every time anyone doubts Snape or says something bad about him Dumbledore always steps up to defend him, with the only reason being “I trust him” or when he gets asked why he trusts him after knowing his dark past he just says “Thats between Snape and I.”
And yes I know why he trusts him, all the deal about Lily blabla, buuut I like to believe he was also in love with him lol please don’t judge me
Snape falls for his friend, others disapprove of their friendship (Slytherin Half-Blood/Gryffindor Muggleborn), he falls in with the Darkness, becomes a professor at Hogwarts, his actions accidentally lead to the death of a loved one, and he spends the rest of his life fighting the Dark Lord that did that to her to make up for it.
Dumbledore falls for his friend, others disapprove of their friendship (they’re gay), falls in with the Darkness, his actions accidentally lead to the death of a loved one, becomes a professor at Hogwarts, and makes up for his earlier mistakes by defeating the Dark Lord he helped create. He also becomes a Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Not only do they have a very similar backstory, but their character arcs are near identical as well. Theirs are both stories of redemption. Who better than Dumbledore to understand Severus’ plight? He’s walked the same path.
They’re also, contradictorily, aesthetic mirrors of each other:
- Old vs Young
-White hair vs Black hair
- Rainbow vs Goth
- Bubbly vs Angsty
There’s nobody in the books they trust more than each other. Dumbledore knows more about Snape than anyone in Snape’s life, and as you said, Dumbledore trusts Snape absolutely. He wouldn’t have Snape kill him and replace him otherwise.
It’s weird how both Snape and Dumbledore are hated in this fandom, I find them to be the most interesting characters in the series! So much of their story takes place in the background of the books, but the more you think about it the more you realize you could write 7 more books just about them lmao.
And as for the shipping… you can’t deny that Snape is 100% Dumbledore’s type. And honestly, I’m gonna say it, Dumbledore is Snape’s type too. If Snockhart is a ship, then Snumbledore also works!!!
Now for the meme conspiracy:
The real reason Dumbledore cried when Snape cast his patronus is because his love was Unrequited.
