Hogwarts – October Wind
The first Dementor came in the middle of a Quidditch match.
It wasn't supposed to.
But nothing ever went the way it was supposed to when James Potter was on the pitch.
The sky was bruised with clouds, thunder low like a growl in the bones of the stadium. Gryffindor banners flapped violently in the wind.
James soared high—higher than the rest—his hands white on his broomstick. He was golden and feral in the air, his eyes locked on the Snitch, his jaw clenched in something that wasn't just focus.
It was rage.
Across the stands, Lillian sat still. Perfect. Watching.
Watching him.
Watching Severus, hidden far behind the teachers' stand, wrapped in too many layers despite the heat of the match.
And behind them all—
The first Dementor slid into the world like a knife in silk.
Below the Bleachers
Severus fell first.
A collapse like marionette strings cut, his breath vanishing in a choked gasp.
The shadows had kissed him before.
But not like this.
In the Sky
James screamed.
The Snitch vanished.
The wind twisted around him like claws.
And all he could hear was Lillian's voice saying:
"I'm not interested."
Again and again, like a curse.
In the Chaos
Lillian didn't move.
He watched the Dementor come, his eyes glassy, lips parted in a breathless hush.
Something in his blood wanted it.
The cold.The silence.The erasure.
But something else—a buried voice, Severus's voice—pulled him up.
He moved before Dumbledore raised his wand.
He moved before Madam Hooch even noticed the shadows.
And he sprinted—
straight to Severus.
Infirmary – One Hour Later
Madam Pomfrey bustled.
James was arguing with McGonagall. Loud. Furious.
But Lillian sat beside Severus's bed again. Same chair. Same storm.
Same unsaid things.
"You nearly died," he whispered.
Severus didn't open his eyes.
"I didn't want you to see me like that," he murmured. "Weak."
"You weren't weak," Lillian said. "You were cursed."
Severus flinched.
"I know what it was," Lillian added darkly. "The curse James used. It's illegal."
Severus didn't reply.
And Lillian whispered, almost to himself—
"I'll kill him."
Dungeons – That Night
Lucius stood before the fire again, alone.
Except not quite.
Behind him, a figure in a black robe stepped from the shadows.
Red eyes gleamed.
"You're certain the curse worked?"
Lucius didn't turn. "It worked. And now he's dependent."
Voldemort smiled—thin and terrible.
"Good."
Gryffindor Common Room
James paced.
He wanted to punch something. Everything.
Lillian.Snape.Lucius.
He touched the scar on his palm—the one Severus had given him in second year, a duel gone wrong, a spell gone too deep.
He wanted that pain back.
He needed it.
He would make Severus feel it too.
Last Line
In the darkness of the Hospital Wing, Severus whispered into the pillow—
"Don't leave."
But Lillian was already gone.