The sky above Hogwarts was a moody gray when the carriages rolled in, bringing the students back for a new term. Rain streaked down the castle windows, and a quiet wind pressed against the ancient stone as if whispering secrets yet to be revealed.
Severus Snape stood at the top of the Entrance Hall stairs, arms folded beneath his black robes, watching them.
He always watched them.
It was an odd ritual—the way the students returned each year looking slightly older, slightly wearier. But not Potter. Not him. He had arrived with the same haunted eyes that Snape remembered from last year, only now they were a touch sharper.
Snape noticed things others didn't. The way Harry walked with his hand always hovering near his pocket. The way Draco Malfoy lingered behind the rest of his housemates as though reluctant to rejoin them.
And then there was the storm in the air. Not the one rumbling above the lake—but something older, darker.
He could feel it. And he had learned long ago not to ignore feelings like that.
---
The Great Hall
The Sorting Ceremony passed in its usual blur. The hat sang its song. A few small, terrified first-years stumbled to their seats. Dumbledore stood and welcomed them with his usual warmth, his words as familiar as the floating candles.
Harry sat beside Ron and Hermione, eyes scanning the staff table.
He knew.
He could feel it.
Snape was watching him again.
He tried not to shift under the weight of that gaze, but it was hard not to. Especially when Snape didn't even bother to look away when Harry met his eyes.
"Do you think he knows?" Harry whispered to Hermione.
"About what?"
Harry didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure what it was.
The strange summer. The whispers. The dream about a black dog. And the way his scar had burned, just once, weeks ago.
Snape watched him a moment longer. Then, without warning, his gaze flicked to Draco.
And Harry caught it.
---
Slytherin Dormitory – That Night
Draco stood in front of the mirror in his room, frowning at his reflection.
The summer hadn't been kind to him.
He'd grown taller, sure, but something about his eyes looked different. Older. Less certain.
He hadn't written to anyone over the break. Not even Blaise or Pansy. Not even Harry, though he'd thought about it—more times than he'd admit.
He'd spent most of the holidays trying to forget the weight of last year. The things he'd said. The things he didn't say.
And now, back in these green-lit halls, he felt more out of place than ever.
He tugged on his tie, stared at himself another moment, then left the room.
---
The Dungeons – Snape's Office
Snape lit the lantern with a flick of his wand, the flame flaring to life with a sharp snap. He moved to his shelves, running his fingers over jars and books with practiced ease.
He hadn't slept much over the summer either.
There had been rumors.
Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.
The world still whispered about it, but most hadn't yet grasped what it could mean. What it would mean—for Harry.
For him.
Snape pulled out a worn scroll from a locked drawer. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Old notes. Dumbledore's. From years ago.
He unrolled them carefully, eyes skimming over phrases like Grimmauld Place, Unregistered Animagus, Fidelius Charm Failure.
He clenched his jaw.
Black had gotten away. And no one was safe now.
Especially not the boy he had sworn—however reluctantly—to protect.
---
Outside the Potions Classroom – Next Morning
Harry leaned against the stone wall, waiting for the door to open. His fingers toyed absently with a broken quill, the wood splintered from where he'd snapped it earlier during Transfiguration.
He didn't know why he was nervous. It was just Snape's class.
Except… it wasn't just anything anymore.
"Still haven't fixed that thing?" Draco's voice came from just behind him.
Harry turned. Draco stood there with his usual smirk—but something was off. The smirk didn't reach his eyes.
"I like it broken," Harry said dryly.
Draco tilted his head. "Of course you do."
A pause stretched between them. Then, more quietly, Draco asked, "Did you hear about Black?"
Harry blinked. "Yeah. Who hasn't?"
Draco nodded once. His expression shuttered.
Before Harry could say anything more, the door creaked open.
Snape stepped aside with a single, sweeping gesture.
"Inside. Quickly."
---
Potions Class
The lesson started normally—ingredients laid out, instructions on the board. Snape circled the room like a watchful shadow.
But his gaze lingered longer on Harry. And on Draco. Especially when they were near each other.
At one point, Harry dropped a pinch of crushed wormwood, and Draco, without a word, leaned over to steady the vial before it tipped.
Snape saw it.
His hand paused mid-note on his parchment.
It wasn't obvious. Not to anyone else. But to him?
It was everything.
The tension. The familiarity. The hesitation.
Snape straightened and turned sharply, cloak flaring behind him.
"Longbottom," he barked from across the room, "do try not to explode anything today."
---
Staff Lounge – Later
Snape sat in the farthest corner, staring into a steaming cup of tea he had no intention of drinking.
Minerva McGonagall entered quietly, pausing when she saw him.
"You heard, then?"
"Of course I have," Snape replied without looking up.
McGonagall sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. "Dumbledore says there's no sign he's near the school."
Snape scoffed. "Not yet."
"You still think he'll come here?"
"I know he will."
McGonagall sighed. "And the boy?"
Snape's jaw tightened. "Potter is… as reckless as ever. But he has a right to know."
"Dumbledore doesn't want him frightened."
"Then Dumbledore is a fool," Snape said sharply. "Harry Potter isn't a child anymore. Not really. He's survived more than most of us."
McGonagall didn't argue.
Because she knew Snape was right.
---
The Astronomy Tower – That Night
Draco sat on the edge of the ledge, arms wrapped around his knees.
It was quiet up here.
No Pansy. No Slytherin noise. No pressure.
Just wind and stars and silence.
He heard footsteps behind him but didn't move.
Harry sat down beside him, wordless.
They didn't talk for a long while.
Then, softly:
"Do you think he's really coming here?" Draco asked.
Harry didn't pretend not to know who he meant.
"I don't know," he said. "But if he is, I'll be ready."
Draco nodded, his eyes on the sky.
"I think I will be too."
They sat like that until the stars faded behind the clouds.