Severus had never been good at hope. It was a fragile thing, easily mocked, easily broken. But against all reason, he had clung to it where Lucius was concerned. Each touch, each fleeting kiss — they had woven themselves into something that looked like salvation.
He told himself Lucius saw him.
That he mattered.
That the chain binding them was not a leash, but a bond.
He was a fool.
It began with whispers in the corridors.
Narcis smirking whenever Severus passed, eyes gleaming with something sharper than mockery. James looking at him with a strange mixture of fury and pity. Even Lillian, whose gaze had always softened when it met Severus's, now looked at him as though he were a stranger cloaked in shadow.
Still, Severus held on. Held on until the night he gathered what courage remained and went to Lucius, trembling but resolute.
"I need you to hear me," Severus said, breath ragged. "I… I can't keep this unsaid."
Lucius tilted his head, elegant as ever, unreadable. "Then speak."
Severus swallowed. The words felt like knives leaving his throat."I've fallen for you. Entirely. I would give you anything — everything. I already have."
For a moment, silence stretched. Then Lucius laughed.
It was not gentle, not fond. It was cold and sharp, a blade dragged across flesh.
"Oh, Severus," Lucius drawled, amusement glittering in his eyes. "You really believed this was real?"
Severus blinked, chest tightening. "What—"
"It was a bet," Lucius said, voice like silk dipped in venom. "Narcis wagered I couldn't make the dungeon rat crawl to me on his knees, desperate and adoring. I told him I'd have you ruined before the year was out."
Severus's world tilted. "A… a bet?"
Lucius stepped closer, cupping his chin with cruel tenderness. "And I won. Narcis is mine now — truly mine. And you? You were never worth more than the amusement you provided."
He leaned down, whispering against Severus's lips, "Did you really think you could be the prize? Look at yourself. Filth. A recessive alpha with no presence, no future. Did you imagine you could stand beside me, when Narcis, even that Lillian shines brighter in a single glance than you will in a lifetime?"
Severus trembled, every word carving him open. "But… you kissed me. You touched me as though—"
"As though you mattered?" Lucius sneered. "That was the game, Severus. And you played your part perfectly."
He fled. He did not remember leaving, only the taste of blood where he'd bitten his lip to keep from screaming, the sound of Lucius's laughter chasing him down the corridor.
The world blurred. His chest burned with humiliation, with grief, with rage turned inward. He had given everything — his loyalty, his trust, his heart. And all of it had been nothing more than a spectacle for Lucius's amusement.
Narcis's mocking words echoed now with unbearable clarity: He'll use you until he's bored, and then he'll toss you aside.
And he had.
Lillian found him hours later, slumped against the stone wall of the courtyard, eyes red but dry, as though he had no tears left to give.
"Sev…" Lillian whispered, kneeling beside him. "I heard what he did." His voice cracked. "I'm so sorry."
Severus couldn't meet his eyes.
"You don't have to stay with him," Lillian pressed, desperate. "You don't have to let him define you. Come back to me. Come back to us. Please. This is your chance — your last chance — to be more than the shadow he made of you."
For a heartbeat, Severus wanted to believe him. Wanted to take Lillian's outstretched hand, to crawl from the ashes into something gentler, something real.
But Lucius's laughter still rang in his ears. Narcis's triumph still burned in his vision. And inside him, shame was louder than hope.
"No," Severus whispered. His voice was raw, final. "It's too late."
Lillian's breath caught. His hand hovered in the air, then fell to his lap. "Then I've lost you," he said softly. "Not to Lucius. Not even to Narcis. I've lost you to yourself."
He rose, grief etched in every line of his face, and walked away.
Severus did not follow. He only sat in the dark, alone, listening to the echo of chains that no longer bound him, but still cut deep into his skin.
And in that silence, he understood:
He was not saved.
He was not chosen.
He was nothing.