Unexpected Fate (Severus Snape x Reader)

Cheers echoed across the stands, mingling with the rush of broomsticks slicing through the crisp winter air. Snow flurries drifted lazily around the stadium, dusting the spectators, but no one seemed to mind. The excitement was infectious, and I found myself smiling as I pulled my scarf tighter against the cold.

Severus had refused my invitation to join me, citing urgent work in the dungeons. That wasn't unusual—he rarely indulged in Quidditch—but today, his absence felt particularly noticeable. I tried to push him from my thoughts, determined to enjoy the game.

"Ah, my dear, is this seat taken?"

I turned to see Professor Slughorn, bundled in an extravagant fur-lined cloak, a steaming mug in one hand and a thick woolen blanket draped over his arm. His round face beamed with its usual jovial curiosity, his small eyes twinkling.

"Not at all," I said, gesturing to the space beside me.

"Splendid!" He settled in with a contented sigh, spreading the blanket over his lap and offering me part of it, which I accepted gratefully against the biting wind. "Nothing like a good Quidditch match to lift the spirits, eh? Even in this weather!"

The game was well underway, and Gryffindor had possession of the Quaffle. Ginny Weasley darted skillfully through the Slytherin defense, drawing wild cheers from the crowd.

"She's a natural, that one," Slughorn remarked, nodding toward her. "Reminds me of her brothers—such talent seems to run in the family."

"She certainly knows her way around a broom," I agreed, watching as Ginny scored with a perfect shot through the left hoop.

"Indeed, indeed," Slughorn said, taking a sip from his mug. "Oh, that reminds me! I've been meaning to ask you something. I'm hosting a little gathering in a few days. Just a small affair for some of the staff and a few of our more... promising students." He gave me a meaningful look. "I would be delighted if you could join us."

I hesitated, caught slightly off guard. "That's very kind of you, Horace. What sort of gathering?"

"Oh, just a bit of fun," he said with a wave of his hand. "Food, music, a little holiday cheer before the term gets too dreary. Nothing too formal, but I do hope you'll consider it."

I offered him a polite smile. "That sounds lovely. I'd be happy to come."

"Marvelous!" Slughorn beamed. "I'll send you the details later. You won't regret it—my little soirées are quite the talk of the school, you know."

I chuckled, turning my attention back to the game. Gryffindor had scored again, and the stands erupted in cheers. Ron Weasley, guarding the goalposts, punched the air triumphantly as he blocked another shot from the Slytherin Chasers.

"Well, well!" Slughorn clapped his gloved hands together. "Young Weasley seems to have found his stride at last. What a performance!"

"He has," I said, watching as Ron deflected yet another attempt with surprising ease. The Gryffindor supporters roared his name. "But it seems he's proving himself today."

"Good for him!" Slughorn said warmly. "Always heartening to see a student rise to the occasion. Perhaps I'll invite him as well—his family would be thrilled to hear of his success."

I smiled but didn't respond, too focused on the game. Ginny had possession again, weaving through the air with stunning precision before passing the Quaffle to Dean Thomas, who scored with a well-timed throw. The Gryffindor section exploded with cheers, nearly drowning out the groans from the Slytherins.

The match grew more intense, each team battling fiercely for control. Snow swirled around the players like a chaotic dance, their silhouettes cutting through the flurries in sharp, graceful arcs.