The Visit (Harry Potter: Snape)

[Shilgiya]

This is the first sneezefic I've posted in years and years. I've always been bursting with ideas and stories but have a hard time putting them into words. AI has been like a miracle for me. I finally have the tool I need to help me get unstuck and write.

Disclaimer: Obviously the characters and references aren't mine. And ChatGPT helped, but this is mostly me.

This will probably be in parts but I was anxious to finally post something

 

Snape is sick and lonely. A mysterious woman appears at his door to care for him.

This is so sweet it'll either make you sick or make you go D'awwwww 😅

 

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Professor Severus Snape sat slumped in his chair by the fireplace in his dimly lit chambers, a half-empty vial of Pepperup Potion sitting uselessly on the table beside him. It hadn't worked. His usual remedies had failed him, and the pounding in his head only grew worse with each passing moment. His throat ached, his body shivered despite the heat from the fire, and worst of all, his nose was a constant, unbearable source of irritation.

“Hh-hehh… hhh'tshhhh!” The sneeze burst out of him, harsh and unrelenting. His slender fingers gripped the armrest of his chair as another followed immediately after. “Hehh-TSHHHhh!”

Snape scowled, wiping his nose with a conjured handkerchief. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a struggle against the persistent tickle at the back of his sinuses. His whole body ached, weighed down by exhaustion. He hadn't felt this ill in years, but he would never admit that aloud, even to himself.

The dungeons felt colder than usual, the stone walls too confining. There was no one to berate, no one to command — just silence and the echo of his own ragged breathing. The loneliness gnawed at him, as much an enemy as the cold itself. He hated feeling vulnerable, and yet here he was, alone in his misery with nothing but the sound of his own sneezes to keep him company.

“Hhh'tchhhuh!” The sneeze caught him off guard, his head snapping forward. He groaned, the sound rasping in his throat, and leaned back into the chair, eyes closing as fatigue overwhelmed him. His dark, greasy hair clung to his forehead, damp from fever.

For a fleeting moment, Snape wished he had someone to check on him, perhaps even bring him a fresh potion or a cup of tea. But that was a foolish thought. Severus Snape did not rely on others. He didn’t need anyone.

And yet, as another bout of sneezes overtook him, forcing his thin frame to shake, he couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of isolation.

"Hh… hehh-TSSHH!"

His nose twitched again, but this time he didn’t fight it. His body, exhausted, gave in to the next inevitable sneeze as the fire crackled softly in the distance.

Snape’s head slumped forward as sleep overtook him, his body succumbing to the fever and exhaustion. The warmth from the fire did little to soothe his chills and aching limbs, and the room around him felt smaller, as if the walls were pressing in. His breath rasped lightly, his chest tightening with each shallow inhale.

A knock at the door disturbed the silence.

At first, he ignored it, assuming it must be some distant sound in the halls. But it came again, insistent and clear.

Snape groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his head spinning slightly. Who could possibly be at my door? With an irritable flick of his wand, the door creaked open.

A young woman stood in the doorway, her face unfamiliar yet radiating calm. Snape’s black eyes narrowed instantly.

“Who are you?” His voice was rough, tinged with suspicion. He didn’t recognize her, and that alone was enough to put him on guard.

The woman stepped inside without waiting for permission, her movements calm, as though she belonged there. “You’re ill,” she said gently, her tone unshaken by his cold demeanor. “You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

Snape scowled, eyes narrowing further. “That is none of your concern,” he bit back, his irritation rising. “I don’t know you, and you certainly have no business here.”

“Perhaps not,” she replied softly, still undeterred. “But I know you, Severus.”

Snape stiffened at her words. His fingers tightened around his handkerchief, his mind racing. His nose twitched with the familiar warning of another sneeze, but he fought to keep his composure.

“I don’t need your help,” he said through gritted teeth, stifling a cough. “Now leave.”

But the woman didn’t leave. She moved gracefully past him, as though she had been in his chambers a hundred times before. Her presence felt unsettlingly natural.

“I’ll make you tea,” she said, her voice calm, almost kind. “Sit. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

Snape, still standing rigid by the door, felt his irritation rise. “I said leave,” he growled, but the threat in his voice wavered, weakened by the pounding in his head and the tightness in his throat. His body betrayed him again, and before he could stop it, a harsh sneeze burst out.

"Hh'xsscm!" He clamped the handkerchief over his nose, trying to stifle the sneeze, but another quickly followed. "Huhh'XSSHHH!"

He sniffed, trying to regain control, but his legs felt weak, and the woman’s calm demeanor was beginning to unnerve him more than his own illness. She didn’t speak again, simply busying herself at his small stove, setting the kettle to boil with a quiet familiarity.

“Who sent you? How do you… know me?” Snape’s voice was softer now, edged with suspicion but also fatigue. He didn’t like being out of control, and this situation was rapidly spiraling beyond his grasp.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, her gaze steady. “You don’t need to understand everything right now,” she said simply. “Just sit. Rest.”

Snape hesitated. His logical mind screamed at him to demand answers, to force her out, but his body was too tired to fight her presence. The fever clouded his judgment, and the warmth of the fire, the smell of brewing tea, and the steady sound of her movements all blurred together in his dazed state.

He closed the door and sank back into his chair, exhausted and still trying to suppress another sneeze. How she knew him, and why she was here, remained unanswered, but in that moment, Severus Snape, despite himself, didn’t resist.

The woman moved gracefully, carrying a steaming cup of tea. She placed it gently on the table beside him, the quiet clink of porcelain breaking the silence. Snape watched her warily, still trying to make sense of her presence. His fever-clouded mind grasped at some form of logic, but nothing fit. He was too tired to argue, too ill to care.

She surprised him when she knelt by his armchair, her movements soft and sure. For a brief moment, he wanted to recoil, to snap at her to stay away, but his body refused to obey. She met his gaze steadily, her eyes filled with something he hadn’t seen in years — tenderness.

“It’s alright,” she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his fractured thoughts. “Don’t worry. You’re not alone.”

Snape blinked, unsure of what to say, his lips parting slightly as if to protest, but nothing came. He felt strangely vulnerable, sitting here like this, with her looking so intently into his eyes.

She continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone from your past sent me.”

Her words seemed to stir something deep within him. Before he could ask what she meant, her hand rose slowly, and she touched his face, the softest brush of her fingers along his cheek. Snape closed his eyes at the sensation, his mind flashing with something distant and warm, a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. It felt familiar, achingly so.

But then, that infuriating itch began to build in his nose once again, the tickle sharp and insistent. His breath hitched and his eyes closed as he brought the handkerchief to his face, his body tensing in anticipation. She withdrew her hand gently, as if she knew what was coming.

He turned his head away from her. "H'xsh! Hh'XXSh!" The sneezes came hard and fast, each one wracking his weakened body. He barely stifled the first two, but the third overwhelmed him. "Heh-TSSHHhh!"

His chest heaved as he caught his breath, keeping the handkerchief clamped over his nose, embarrassment settling in quickly. “Apologies,” he muttered, his voice rough and low. He avoided her gaze, unsure why he felt the need to explain himself, especially in front of someone so unfamiliar.

But she didn’t respond. She didn’t scold him or look at him with disgust. Instead, she simply gazed into his eyes again, her expression unchanged, unwavering in its calm.

Snape blinked, feeling a sudden burn in the back of his throat that had nothing to do with his illness. He wasn’t sure why, but something about her presence, her quiet reassurance, the way she looked at him without judgment, stirred an unexpected emotion. He swallowed, trying to push it down, but the tears welled up in his eyes anyway, blurring his vision.

He looked away, biting back the emotion, but he could feel her gaze on him still, steady and unyielding. She didn’t say a word.

The warmth from the fire that crackled softly in the background did nothing for the feverish chill he felt, the room feeling smaller with each passing moment. Snape’s breath was ragged, his chest heavy with illness and something deeper that he couldn’t quite name. His nose teetering on the edge of another fit. He kept his gaze averted, the sting of unshed tears making his eyes burn. The vulnerability was unbearable.

But the woman — this stranger who somehow knew him — didn’t move away. She simply watched him, her presence unwavering, until finally, she reached out again, her hand returning to his face. Her fingers brushed against his fevered skin, gentle and warm.

“Severus,” she said softly, her voice like a whisper of calm amidst the storm in his mind. “Look at me.”

Snape stiffened, his instinct to pull away battling with the exhaustion weighing him down. He didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t want her to see him like this — weak, ill, exposed. But her hand remained, steady and patient, waiting for him.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her thumb brushing lightly across his cheek. “It’s all right.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, his pride screaming at him to push her away, to lock himself back in the fortress of solitude he had built over the years. But something in her voice, something in the way she said those words — so simple, so calm — broke through his defenses.

Slowly, painfully, he turned his head and met her gaze.

“There,” she said softly, her eyes holding his. “It’s alright.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just looked at her, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath shaky. Her words lingered in the air, wrapping around him like a soft, invisible blanket.

“It’s alright,” she said again, her voice soothing, as if she knew exactly what he needed to hear.

Snape stared at her, his dark eyes searching hers for something — an explanation, an answer to why she was here, why she cared. But there was no hidden motive in her gaze, no trace of pity, only quiet acceptance.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand her. But in that moment, as she repeated those words, something inside him began to loosen, as though the walls he had spent years building were crumbling just a little.

“It’s alright,” she whispered once more, her hand never leaving his face.

And for the first time in a long time, Severus Snape believed her.

[AntheaHolmes]

Oh this was lovely! Just gorgeous. 💕

[Shilgiya]

Thank you so much 💙

I just want to hug sick Snape so badly... 😊

[Shilgiya]

5 hours ago, AntheaHolmes said:

Oh this was lovely! Just gorgeous. 💕

💙