Chapter Text
Maybe if he didn’t make a sound, it wouldn’t notice.
Maybe if he just stood here all night, stock still like a statue, breathing almost imperceptibly, the creature would stay turned towards the wall, scratching itself raw with its bladelike claws like it was doing now. And when the morning light streamed in through the cracked, cloudy windows of the shack, it would be human once more, and Severus could leave unscathed.
But little sounds seemed to be inevitable. His knees shook, his legs feeling like they were going to give out any second, and the floorboards creaked ever so slightly under the shifting weight. His mouth went dry and he felt as if an invisible force of some sort was strangling him, gradually tightening its grip around his lungs by the second, and he was sure the creature would hear his increasingly labored breaths. If nothing else, Severus was sure his quickening heartbeat, so fast and so forceful his chest was starting to ache, would be enough to give him away.
Whether it was any one of those things in particular, or just that the creature picked up on the scent of prey (and frightened prey at that), Severus did not know. All he knew was that a full-fledged werewolf had turned towards him, yellow eyes and a set of knifelike teeth reflecting the moonlight pouring into the shack with a menacing glow.
And he knew that there was nothing he could do now but run. But as he tried to lift a leg, it remained rooted in place. The other leg was no better. It was as if, somehow, someone had glued him to the floor, and all he could do was watch as the wolf bounded towards him and its claws began a fatal swipe right towards his throat.
It was at that moment, like clockwork, that Severus’s eyes shot open. The dusty walls of the shack were gone, replaced with a sheer canopy material that he knew to be emerald green in the daylight, enclosing him on all four sides around the four-poster bed in which he was now sitting upright. There were no dark creatures in here, werewolves or otherwise, just the occasional soft snore of a fellow seventh-year Slytherin.
Severus went through this mental checklist, taking stock of his surroundings as he tried desperately to steady his breathing. It felt like someone had placed a lead brick right on top of his chest and he hoped his heavy breaths weren’t loud enough to wake up any of his roommates. He was in bad enough shape without having to deal with their angry glares.
After what felt like a million walkthroughs of his physical surroundings, he finally managed to slow down his heartbeat and return his breathing to a normal pace. It was then that he rubbed at his eyes with the base of his palms, sighed, and fumbled around in his nightstand for his wand and his old beaten-up watch. With the help of a quick Lumos, he read the watch face. 5:16 AM.
Still holding his wand and his watch, arms splayed at his sides, Severus flopped back down onto the bed, defeated. There was simply no way he’d be able to go back to sleep before it was time to get ready for breakfast for the first day of term today. He had already spent what felt like hours tossing and turning before falling asleep initially, and although his body was begging for rest, his mind was plenty awake from its recent adrenaline rush, teetering on the edge of full-blown panic at the prospect of another one. The nightmare had been recurring ever since its inspiration in his fifth year, but every time it made its unwelcome appearance, it was just as scary as the first time.
Severus supposed he would just have to lie here wide awake until the others began to stir, and think about how ready he was to be out of this godforsaken school. Just one more miserable year until he would no longer be the boy cowering in fear of nightmares, but someone to be feared himself. But those ambitions would have to wait. The most important thing for now was just to get through the coming day.
---
Severus’s interrupted sleep was rather obvious as he began to feel a bit dizzy and struggled to keep his eyes open upon walking into the Great Hall for breakfast. A trip over a crack in the floor earned a hearty laugh from Black over at the Gryffindor table, and though Severus shot him one of his trademark glares, his heart wasn’t really in it. Being treated that way for so long tended to wear down on one’s drive to fight back. Besides, he knew he would have his revenge on them next year.
Still, he would be lying if he said that seeing his former best friend in the arms of his worst enemy, laughing at some joke he had told (quite possibly at Severus’s expense), didn’t sting just a little.
It was no secret that Lily Evans and James Potter, Head Girl and Boy, had just become an item. Whether he had finally worn her down after all his years of begging for a crumb of romantic attention from her, or Lily had simply always been attracted to him, Severus didn’t know. It didn’t matter either way. When he saw Potter, he wanted to smack the smug grin off his face and rip off the Head Boy badge he had done nothing to earn, but when he saw Lily, there was a dull, throbbing ache in his heart for his lost friend, the light that made his life more than just the same old miserable day repeated in and out. Knowing that it was his fault that he lost her and that Potter, of all people, had somehow managed to do right by her, when he never could, only made it worse.
Severus knew he couldn’t handle thinking too much about Lily when he was running on just a few hours’ sleep, so he turned to his usual tactic: ignoring her. Replacing heartache with numbness was just about the best he could do. And today, there was a slew of unfamiliar students crowding the benches of the Slytherin table, making an adequate distraction as he tried to remember why they were there.
Professor Dumbledore would answer that question as he called everyone in the Great Hall to attention promptly at the start of the breakfast hour.
“Students of Hogwarts! Let us extend a warm welcome to our fellow competitors in this year’s Triwizard Tournament, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, seated with our very own Ravenclaw House, and Durmstrang Institute, seated with house Slytherin!”
Light applause broke out and Severus managed to clap robotically as he pieced it together from his fatigue-fogged memory. Professor Dumbledore had announced the prior night that Hogwarts was hosting the fabled Triwizard Tournament, in which champions from three schools competed in dangerous tasks for the prize of eternal glory, and a sum of money, of course. As tempting as the money sounded, Severus was not about to risk his life, and perhaps more importantly, what little he had left of his dignity, trying to complete these ridiculous tasks. The “eternal glory” in Professor Dumbledore’s speech indicated to him that it would probably be another Gryffindor wankfest anyway.
As the breakfast chatter mostly centered around who among the table was planning on putting their name in the Goblet of Fire for the drawing of champions at the end of the week, Severus simply focused on finishing his food without falling asleep, and got up to go to class without saying a word as soon as he had accomplished this.
---
Lily’s worried pleas throughout all of breakfast didn’t do much to detract from James’s determination to put himself in the running for Hogwarts champion. He was Head Boy, he had the girl of his dreams, and he was still the most popular boy in school. Here he had thought there was just about nothing he could do to ascend any higher, and Professor Dumbledore had dropped a chance for even more eternal glory right in his lap. What could be better?
“Fine, enter your name, but you’d better promise to be careful if you get picked! We just got together, the last thing I would want is to lose you!” Lily looked up at her new boyfriend with pleading green eyes as they stood outside the doors of the Great Hall, about to part ways for their differing first classes.
“Of course, who do you think I am? I’ll be fine! I’m a Gryffindor, we can handle anything! You know that, Evans!”
As Lily playfully rolled her eyes at the use of her last name, just like their old banter, James planted a quick kiss on her cheek and grinned at her.
“I’ll see you later, okay? You better get going, make sure you’re still on Sluggy’s good side. You know, so you can invite me to all those fancy parties this year and we can sneak some of his good firewhiskey when he’s too pissed to notice.”
Lily sighed, though it was not without a smile.
“Yeah, I’ll make sure of that.” She turned and headed to the dungeons for NEWT Potions.
Just as soon as Lily left, Sirius strolled through the doors of the Great Hall and began to walk side by side with James to NEWT Transfiguration. As they walked up the marble stairs, making plans for when to put their name in the Goblet, a mischievous grin began to form on Sirius’s face. He had a gleam in his eyes that James knew all too well.
“Prongs, hear me out. What if we put Snivelly’s name in the Goblet too?”
“Are you mad?” James scoffed.
“Well, perhaps a little. You’ve seen my family. But listen, if we’re not chosen, the next best thing would be to watch that greaseball make a bloody fool of himself! It would be the perfect way to cap off our Hogwarts experience!”
James had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. He was sure there would be hordes of students casting their lot to be the Hogwarts champion, and by sheer numbers, there was only a small likelihood he or Sirius would be chosen. And since Remus and Peter had given firm no’s on entering, Sirius was right that, instead of watching some other student compete, the next best thing would be to have a good laugh at it all. But the one thing he had promised Lily when she agreed to date him was that he would leave his old ways behind, and however perplexing her reasons for wanting to protect the scumbag who had called her the most awful of names, that included leaving Snape alone.
“You’ve got a point there, but we can’t. I told Lily I’d leave the prick alone. No idea why, but she made me swear to it or she wouldn’t go out with me. Sorry, Pads.”
“Oh come on!” Sirius made a playful swipe at James’s arm like a dog begging for his owner to play with him. “She’ll never find out. What are the odds he’s even chosen, and if he is, who’s to say she won’t think he put his own damn name in there. Slytherins are all like that, wanting to further themselves, you know. Come on, Prongs, just for the thrill of it! For old time’s sake.”
James contemplated Sirius’s plea. He had to admit, it was rather logical. It was just a bit of fun. Lily would never have to know.
“Alright, Pads. You win. We’ll get Wormtail to do it tonight.”
The slightly sinister but overjoyed grin on his best friend’s face made James even more sure of his decision. Severus Snape’s name would be going in the Goblet of Fire tonight, whether he liked it or not.
---
“How’s that?” Sirius, smiling from ear to ear, held up the slip of parchment he had been meticulously scribbling on, now with “Severus Snape” scrawled across it.
James looked up from his own parchment and glanced over at Sirius, who was looking at him with a puppy-eyed eagerness, his blue eyes filled to the brim with a yearning for James’s approval. Behind him, Peter was grinning equally widely, clearly still just as elated to have been invited to partake in chaos as the first time they had made mischief together six years ago.
Secretly, James did not think the handwriting resembled Snape’s at all. He was rather acquainted with it, as swiping Snape’s schoolbooks and looking for incriminating notes scribbled in the margins had been a favorite pastime of his in prior years, and while it was restrained somewhat, this writing had too much of Sirius’s laid-back touch: the wide, languid curves of his S’s, and letters that sprawled out and filled the page. Snape’s letters were cramped and uncomfortable, with harsh corners as opposed to carefree loops. But it probably didn’t matter much either way, and keeping his best friend happy was far more important to James than perfect accuracy.
“It looks great, Padfoot! If it was just a little girlier, it’d be perfect!”
James grinned in return as Sirius laughed and folded the paper, tossing it to Peter. They had poked fun at the effeminate nature of Snape’s perfect cursive in the past, and he had to admit, despite the fact that he felt a bit guilty for going behind Lily’s back, he felt more himself doing this. Hogwarts was like a delicate ecosystem, and removing Snape from his position at the bottom of the food web could cause a whole trophic cascade and throw everything out of balance. That was his place, and this was theirs. Everything was right this way.
“Alright, lads!” James clapped his hands together as if to call the others to attention as he stood up from his seat. “Let’s go enter our names!”
Sirius and Peter, who had been sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor common room, immediately jumped up, gathering the parchment and quills they had strewn all over the mahogany coffee table in front of them. Remus, curled up in a faded red armchair situated next to the roaring fireplace, was slow to close his charms textbook and lazily stretch his arms above his head before finally joining the others in standing and heading towards the portrait hole.
“Explain to me again why you feel the need to do this.” Remus clutched his textbook to his chest and turned to James as the group made their way down the stairs towards the Great Hall. James thought he could hear a hint of agitation in Remus’s usually even-toned voice.
“It’s just a bit of fun!” James reassured him, although perhaps subconsciously he was reassuring himself, as well, in his decision to go against Lily’s wishes. “If I’m not chosen, and Padfoot’s not chosen, the next best thing is to have a good laugh at Snivellus, just like old times, don’t you think?”
Remus did not answer the question, choosing instead to sigh and roll his eyes.
“How do you know he’s not entering himself, anyway?”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t! Can you imagine a weakling like Snivellus in a tournament like that? Besides, Dumbledore already said the cup will reject a name if it’s entered twice, so if he did, it just won’t work. Simple as that,” James replied with a shrug.
“Alright, I guess that makes sense. But you said yourself, he’ll never make it if he is chosen. Shouldn’t we just leave him be? It’s our last year, we’ll be out of here soon anyway.”
“Come on, Moony, lighten up!” James squeezed Remus’s shoulder, noticing the tension built up in his muscles. “Ol’ Dumbledore wouldn’t let him get too badly hurt, right? It’s just a little thrill and then we’ll leave him alone. He won’t even know it was us!”
Remus took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes. He opened them after a long exhale and turned towards James. He seemed tired, his pale brown eyes empty and defeated.
“Whatever. As long as I’m not involved.”
James simply nodded and smiled.
“Course not. As long as my favorite prefect doesn’t let anything slip,” he replied with a wink and a hearty pat on Remus’s back.
Remus only gave a curt nod in response, his lips set in a thin line. James felt a bit bad but he was thoroughly used to Remus’s nagging at this point and it never did much to deter him from doing what he wanted. He always thought Remus needed to loosen up a little anyway; some good fun would do him wonders.
James and Remus finished the walk to the Great Hall in silence, and strolled through the doors behind Sirius and Peter towards the throng of students gathered around the Goblet of Fire at the front of the room. The wooden cup would have been rather unassuming if it weren’t for the electric blue flames erupting from it, captivating the attention of all who approached it. Students from various houses surrounded the Goblet, some standing with slips of parchment clasped in their hands, others sat on the benches of the Great Hall tables watching the scene unfold in front of them. One by one, seventh-year students crossed Professor Dumbledore’s age line and dropped slips of parchment into the flames, which immediately turned a stark red upon receiving an entry, as if acknowledging the name and making a judgment of its owner.
As James and his friends approached the cluster of students, heads turned towards them. It seemed as if the others had been expecting them. And as James and Sirius put their names in for the running, the flames turning red with what James was sure was approval, they received the customary applause from the rest of the circle, with a few whoops from fellow Gryffindors and some dreamy-eyed stares from a few of the girls.
But as Peter approached the Goblet, the deceitful slip of parchment enclosed firmly in his chubby fingers, the eyes of the crowd widened. He had never been one to take the spotlight; rather, he sat at the sidelines and played cheerleader to James and Sirius’s antics. There were a few gasps at Peter’s sudden bravery and initiative as he sauntered up to the Goblet, a smug smile plastered across his face. Perhaps, the crowd likely pondered, he is a Gryffindor, after all!
But as the Goblet accepted Peter’s slip, a slip with lies scrawled across it, James knew that the reality was nothing of the sort. Peter was a pawn in their plan, a sidekick to their heroes. Certainly a talented sidekick, a good actor, but this was not his moment of glory. This was just a bit of fun among friends, and James had to laugh to himself as the others in the circle were none the wiser.
---
It was with his usual numbness that Severus finished eating at dinner that night. Throughout the entire dinner hour, the other students at the Slytherin table had been discussing who would be chosen as the Hogwarts champion, and the likely outcomes of each choice, and Severus simply had nothing to contribute to the conversation. He knew the drawing of champions was taking place at the end of the meal that night, but he could not have cared less about that bloody tournament. Watching some Gryffindor and two students he didn’t even know show off for a crowd three times was just about the least interesting thing he could think of doing this year, and he wished he could just study for his NEWT’s in peace and get through one last year at this nightmare school as quickly as possible without nuisances like this.
So when Professor Dumbledore tapped on his glass, calling attention to the front of the room for the drawing of names, Severus simply stared down at his plate, pushing the remaining food around with a fork and preparing to zone out for the next few minutes.
“May I have your attention please, for the selection of champions?” Dumbledore boomed, and the room fell silent, almost as if by magic.
He approached the Goblet and cleared his throat.
“The champion from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!”
The flames of the Goblet turned bright red and a slip of parchment shot up into the air and directly into Dumbledore’s hand, its edges singed and wisps of smoke framing the headmaster’s face as he read the name.
“Céline Archambeau!”
As applause rang out through the Great Hall, a slender girl with an upturned nose and dark hair pinned in a tight bun stood up from the Ravenclaw table and strolled towards Dumbledore with an air of elegance that seemed to be present in the way all Beauxbatons students carried themselves. Smiling delicately, she gave the headmaster’s wrinkled hand a polite shake and positioned herself in front of the professors’ table where he indicated.
Dumbledore approached the cup once again in preparation for the second name.
“The champion from Durmstrang Institute!”
Once again, the flames reddened and spit out a smoking piece of parchment, which he deftly caught and unfolded.
“Tatiana Nikolaevna Palochkina!”
Another girl, this time one sitting not too far from Severus at the Slytherin table, stood up from her seat and walked towards the front of the room to the rhythm of the claps echoing around them. Her blonde curls bounced as she approached the headmaster with a grin that could light up the entire Great Hall. Smiling warmly at her fellow champion, she took her place in line after a hearty handshake.
Dumbledore readied himself once again for the last name, and this time, the one from his own school. Taking a deep breath, perhaps out of particular nervousness or anticipation, he approached the Goblet.
“The champion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”
A third and final slip erupted from the scarlet flames, and as the chosen slip floated down into Dumbledore’s outstretched hand, the flames went out entirely just as quickly as they had first appeared.
Dumbledore unfolded the fateful slip, and after squinting at it for a second, his voice boomed across the Great Hall with the last words Severus had expected to hear that day.
“Severus Snape!”
Severus’s heart stopped for just a moment upon hearing his name. He was forcefully pulled from his daze as his head immediately snapped up to look towards the front of the room. Dumbledore didn’t look confused or worried, he was simply looking at Severus as if nothing was wrong. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, clearly expecting him to come forward.
This couldn’t be. Severus’s heart raced as he stood up as well as he could with his uncontrollably shaking legs. He barely registered the robotic applause of his peers, only able to hear his own blood rushing in his ears as he tried to remember if there was some time when he had somehow put his name in the Goblet without being aware of it. As he walked towards Dumbledore he felt as if his legs would give out and he would collapse at any second, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten anything at dinner.
Someone had entered him into the Triwizard Tournament, and he was going to die.
As Severus got closer to the front of the room, he tried to take deep breaths and compartmentalize the fear, shoving it away to feel at another time, but in such unexpected circumstances he was finding that harder than usual. What was worse was that he was becoming quickly certain that his dinner was not going to stay down, and it was not going to be pretty.
When he finally reached the headmaster’s outstretched hand, he barely had time for a quick shake before he knew he had to leave, and soon.
“Congratulations, Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore greeted him warmly, enclosing Severus’s hand in both of his as they shook.
“I gotta go, sir,” was Severus’s only response.
“I’m sorry?” Dumbledore asked, but before he could prod further, Severus had already begun to run away from the Goblet and the other champions, quickening his pace as he tried his best to make it to the nearest bathroom before the inevitable happened.
Luck had never been on Severus’s side, however, and tonight was no exception. He couldn’t choke it back any longer and now the contents of his stomach were on the floor in front of him, between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Mortified, he clapped a hand over his mouth as laughter began to rumble throughout the hall and the unfortunate students sitting near where he stood scooted away as much as the limited space on the benches allowed.
He could feel sweat begin to bead at his forehead and his chest ached as his heart beat even more rapidly than it did before. Not knowing what to do, he stared ahead of him through the open doors of the Great Hall and tried counting the number of links in the chain mail one of the suits of armor in the hallway was wearing. At this point, he knew from experience that he had to shove the feelings of humiliation and powerlessness away for a later time, when he wasn’t being looked at by the whole school. He may have lost even more of his dignity, but he was not going to cry. Not here.
“Silence!” Professor Dumbledore’s voice boomed out over the laughter and managed to dampen it at least somewhat. “Prefects, lead your houses to your dormitories! The feast is concluded for tonight.” He leaned over the professors’ table to Professor Slughorn, whispering something in his ear.
Unsure what to do as everyone else made to leave, Severus couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering over to the Gryffindor table. He wondered if lately he purposefully sought out pain as he found exactly what he expected.
Although Potter seemed to be performing his Head Boy duties and beckoning confused first-years towards himself, it was not without mirth in his eyes and a grin on his face that Severus wished he could slap off. Black, standing next to him, was doubled over with laughter, and Pettigrew the same, red-faced and looking as if he would wet himself if he cackled any more. Only Lupin did not laugh, stony-faced as he stood at the end of the table, waving at the stragglers at the other end.
Lily, good as she was, began to rub at her nose as soon as she noticed Severus looking her way, although he knew her too well to not know that she was using her hand to cover up the remnants of a smile.
---
At least in the hospital wing, Severus was alone.
After having drunk some potions to settle his stomach, and being tucked into a freshly-made bed in clean hospital pajamas, he had the time to really reflect on what had just happened. Maybe there was some loophole, some magical rule in his favor, some way he could get out. This couldn’t be it for him.
But maybe, it was. Maybe this would finally be how he met his end. At the hand of someone who had it out for him, right at the center of a crowd of onlookers. How fitting.
Severus was pulled out of the abyss that was his thoughts these days by the soft footsteps of Professor Dumbledore.
“Good evening, Mr. Snape. I trust you’re feeling better?” He looked down at Severus over his half-moon spectacles with kindness in his eyes, and a small smile played at his lips.
Severus thought that that kindness was probably ingenuine, and the care in his question forced, but he resigned himself to accepting it for now, as he was going to need to beg this man for his life.
“Headmaster, I didn’t enter myself!” He looked up at Dumbledore with pleading eyes and now, as he knew he would need all the ammunition he could get, he let himself really feel, and outwardly show, the paralyzing fear he had been shoving away since he heard his name called for what was certain to be his imminent death.
“Yes, I had gathered that.”
Severus supposed that those who voluntarily entered themselves into these types of competitions didn’t usually vomit when they were chosen.
“I came to tell you that I spoke to the Ministry about it,” Dumbledore continued, “and, unfortunately, it is a magically binding contract. He whom the Goblet selects must compete, no matter the circumstances. It would be your life on the line if you refused.”
Severus bit his tongue, resisting the temptation to snap at the old man that he didn’t seem to care much last time it was his life on the line. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he began to feel uncontainable rage towards whomever had thrust him into this situation. His hands balled up into fists under the sheets as he tried his hardest not to cry, especially not in front of someone who had already demonstrated that Severus’s feelings, his very life, in fact, were of no importance to him.
“I know it seems unfair, but you know, Mr. Snape, the Goblet picks the student it judges as the most worthy from each school. Maybe this tournament is an opportunity for you, in a way that you can’t even see yourself. Make the best of it, and you might find you gain something far more valuable than even that thousand Galleon prize.”
Severus could have sworn he saw a twinkle in Professor Dumbledore’s eye as he turned and walked out of the hospital wing. He was sure that the entire speech was utter nonsense made up on the spot to appease him, as he knew not Dumbledore nor anyone else would ever call him the most worthy anything, but he supposed he had no choice but to do as the old man said and make the best of it.
The tears he had been holding back began to cascade down his cheeks as he fiddled with a loose string in the seam of the sheets, cursing whomever had entered his godforsaken name. And although he couldn’t prove it, he had an inkling of who that was.
---
With the younger students safely tucked away in the tower, Lily could finally relax. She flopped down on a mustard-colored sofa in front of the crackling fire of the Gryffindor common room, leaning against James, who quickly slung an arm around her and pulled her closer.
Peter was wiping tears from his eyes, his howling laughter finally slowing down as James’s friends gathered around the fireplace in their usual positions. Sirius had managed to stop laughing much earlier, but the grin hadn’t left his face since Severus’s embarrassing display back in the Great Hall. Remus, curled up in his usual armchair, was taking herbology notes and paying no mind, although he occasionally looked up to roll his eyes at the others’ immaturity.
“Blimey, I knew it would be good, but I didn’t expect it to be that good that fast!” Sirius turned towards James with an expression of pure joy. Lily gave him a quizzical look, having no idea what he was referring to, which seemed to be the cause of his smile fading the next instant.
James cleared his throat and shifted a bit before responding.
“That was some display, wasn’t it?”
“He looked like he had seen a Dementor when he got called! And I thought it couldn’t get better than that, but then it did! Gotta give Snivellus credit, he never disappoints!” Sirius began to laugh yet again and James joined him, although Lily thought she could hear a hint of unease in his laughter.
Lily found it funny, too. She was comfortable admitting that. What she wasn’t comfortable admitting, however, was the twinge of sympathy she had felt at hearing the horribly painful-sounding noise of Severus retching and seeing his paler than usual face as he looked over at her with fear in his eyes, almost as if begging her for help. He had done this to himself; why was he seemingly unprepared for an outcome he knew good and well could happen if he put his name in that blasted cup? And he was no good either way. She shouldn’t feel bad for him.
Yet, somehow, even under all the bitterness, she did.
Maybe she always would.