Morning light seeped in, a pale, apologetic glow barely cutting through the soot and ruin. The war chamber deep beneath Hogwarts had become a temporary safehouse—but even safety now felt like a borrowed luxury.
Severus Snape slept, though rest came in uneven intervals. Pain potions had dulled the worst of it, but not all. His injuries ran deeper than curse scars—they lived in bone and breath and trust.
Lucius sat beside him still, unmoving save for the slow brushing of fingers over Severus's wrist. He hadn't left. Not once.
Outside the chamber, the Order's core regrouped.
James Potter stood at the head of the table, arms braced. His hair was wild, his eyes sharp. "We don't have time. Voldemort will strike again, and this time—he'll aim to finish it."
Remus Lupin nodded. "We need the allies Dumbledore held in reserve. The centaurs, the Romanian branch, even the cursed vaults."
Sirius sat slouched but alert, wand tapping against his boot. "And Lillian?"
The door opened as if summoned.
Lillian entered, perfectly composed. "You rang?"
Narcis narrowed his eyes. "You should explain where you were when Severus nearly died."
Lillian's smile was all poison and silk. "Setting the board for the next move. I don't chase pawns—I replace kings."
"Don't test me," Narcis growled.
But it was Lucius's voice from the doorway that sliced the room into silence.
"Enough."
He stood, pale and regal despite exhaustion. "We don't have time for posturing. Severus nearly died. Voldemort felt it. Whatever tether he and Lillian once shared—it's snapping."
Lillian arched a brow. "Jealous, Lucius?"
Lucius's gaze didn't waver. "I know who he belongs to."
Behind them, soft footsteps. Severus had woken.
He walked slowly into the room, wrapped in Narcis's coat. His voice was low, frayed, but firm.
"Let's not waste time. If Voldemort is moving, we need to strike first."
James's brow furrowed. "You shouldn't even be standing."
Severus smirked faintly. "I've survived worse."
Lucius moved to support him but stopped short when Severus raised a hand.
"I need to do this. All of you—stop treating me like glass."
They nodded, solemn. Battle was coming.
Later, when the meeting ended, and the plans were made, Lucius found Severus again beneath the arch near the observatory stair.
"You're pushing yourself too fast."
"I have no choice," Severus said.
"You do." Lucius stepped closer, his voice softer. "You have me."
There it was again—that soft tension. The wound and balm of longing.
Lucius brushed Severus's fingers. "Let me protect you."
Severus looked at him, haunted. "Even if I don't deserve it?"
Lucius leaned in, the barest breath between them. "Especially then."
A kiss—deep, aching, everything left unsaid. Not gentle. Not perfect. But real.
Across the castle, Lillian watched from a charmed mirror, eyes burning like coal.
Behind him, Narcis stepped from the shadows.
"You've always hated losing," Narcis said coolly.
Lillian turned, slow, smile razor-thin. "I haven't lost yet."
"Severus doesn't belong to you."
Lillian's grin widened. "He doesn't belong to any of us. Not yet. But I promise you, dear Narcis…"
He stepped closer, voice dark and glittering.
"…when I'm done, not even love will save them."
Outside, the storm brewed. The lords were returning to the board. And the final game had begun.