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It had hit him like a curse, sharp and unforgiving, the moment he realised Harry Potter was an Alpha.
And not just any Alpha.
His Alpha.
Severus had been thirty-seven already. After years - decades - he had long since abandoned any hope of ever finding him. And when he did… it had to be Harry Potter.
One might assume Severus detested the notion. That would be wrong.
Harry had changed. From an insufferable, reckless boy into something… else. Someone composed. Capable. A man, even. And when Severus had stood before him and told him he had to die - to destroy the Horcrux - something in Severus had died as well.
And then Harry had lived. Destroyed Voldemort. Completed his NEWTs. Stepped into a future that had always seemed just out of reach.
Severus had stayed away. Watched from a distance. Allowed himself that much weakness - quiet admiration, carefully hidden. Because he would never tell him.
Never tell Harry Potter that he - Severus Snape - was his Omega.
He would not bind him to a battle-worn, hardened Omega. Too thin. Too worn down. Too… much of everything Harry did not deserve. Harry deserved warmth. Ease. Someone unburdened. Someone he could love. Not his former professor. Not the tormentor of his youth.
Severus knew exactly what he was condemning himself to. An unclaimed Omega did not simply fade - they deteriorated. Slowly. Painfully. Inevitably.
Still, he would not accept Potter’s pity. Nor his sense of obligation. Because Severus knew - knew - that Harry would claim him if he knew. He was far too noble not to. And they would both be miserable.
Besides, no one knew. Not truly. Aside from Poppy and Albus, the world believed him a Beta. The suppressants dulled everything - his scent, his cycles, his instincts. Left him… manageable. It had been easier when Harry left Hogwarts.
Distance had helped. The symptoms crept in slowly then - a faint weakness in his limbs, a subtle instability in his magic, the occasional dull headache pressing behind his eyes. Nothing he could not endure. He had endured worse.
But then - less than a year ago - Harry returned. Madam Hooch had retired. Potter had taken her place.
And Severus’ heart had stuttered in his chest the first time he saw him again.
Harry stood taller now. Broad-shouldered, solid, the sharp line of his jaw set with quiet confidence. And his scent -
Merlin.
Rich. Spiced. Warm. It curled in the air, heavy and undeniable, wrapping around Severus’ senses until his knees had nearly given out. For one treacherous moment, he had thought he might melt.
Then Harry had smiled at him - bright, open, those impossible green eyes catching the light.
“Hello, Professor.”
And Severus had managed, barely, “Potter.” His voice rough, unfamiliar even to himself. After that, Potter was everywhere.
In the corridors. In the Great Hall. Lingering at the edge of conversations. And, increasingly, in Severus’ dreams.
At some point, Harry had begun calling him Severus. Speaking to him. Seeking him out, even. Offering the occasional, absurd attempt at humor. Severus kept his distance. And suffered. Because proximity made everything worse. He knew it would. He had known from the beginning.
Every morning it became harder to rise from bed, his body heavy and reluctant. Every evening, his bones ached as though they might splinter beneath his skin. Black spots flickered at the edges of his vision during the day. His appetite dwindled to almost nothing. The headaches sharpened, a constant, throbbing pressure.
After one particularly disastrous attempt, he no longer dared to use his magic more than necessary. He should leave. He knew that. Distance might buy him time. But how could he, when Harry was here?
When his presence filled the castle, lingered in the air, threaded through Severus’ senses like something alive?
And sometimes -
Sometimes Severus felt Harry’s gaze on him.
Lingering. Concerned. No. That had to be his imagination. It had to be.
One evening, in a dim corridor lit only by flickering torches, the world tilted.
The stone wall rushed toward him before he realised he was falling. His hand shot out, catching himself just in time, fingers scraping against cold, rough stone.
“Severus!”
The voice was sharp. Close. Strong arms were suddenly around him, steadying him, grounding him before he could collapse.
He should pull away.
He should.
But for one fleeting, shameful moment -
He didn’t.
Because the scent was overwhelming up close. Warm. Spiced. Safe.
His.
Severus leaned, just slightly, just for a second, letting it surround him. Pathetic. He straightened abruptly, muscles trembling beneath his robes.
“Everything is fine,” he said, the words thin and brittle.
“It’s not,” Harry replied immediately, his grip tightening. “You need to see Madam Pomfrey.”
“I can manage myself,” Severus sneered, though the edge lacked its usual bite. He tried to step away - and swayed.
“No.”
Harry’s arm slid firmly around his waist, holding him in place.
“You’re going. Now.”
There was something different in his voice this time. A weight. A command. Harry rarely used his Alpha voice. But he did now.
And Severus—
Severus could not fight it. Not anymore. His resistance crumbled, quiet and final. He gave a small, reluctant nod.
And allowed himself to be guided down the corridor, wrapped helplessly in the scent of his Alpha.
Worry wasn’t the right word for what Harry felt for Severus.
It was something heavier. Concern. Fear. Love. All tangled together until he could barely tell them apart. He had never had Severus this close before.
His arm was wrapped firmly around the man’s waist - and Merlin, he was even more fragile than Harry had imagined. Beneath the layers of dark fabric, Severus felt too light, too slight. He had always been lean, yes - tall, composed, deceptively strong - but this…
This was different. This was wrong. Harry’s jaw tightened.
He had seen it, of course. Day after day in the Great Hall. Severus barely eating, just pushing food around his plate, moving it from one side to the other without taking a single proper bite.
Harry had watched. And it had made something inside him want to break.
Every instinct he had screamed at him to act - to step in, to fix it, to take care of him. Of the man who had saved his life more times than he could count.
Of the man he -
Harry swallowed hard.
Severus was a Beta. Independent. Proud. Harry admired that - respected it. He would never want to take that away from him. But a few minutes ago, something had slipped.
Severus had been too stubborn, too determined to brush it off - and Harry had snapped. The Alpha voice had come out before he could stop it. Unintentional. Instinctive. Because he had been scared.
His grip tightened slightly as he guided Severus forward, closer to him without thinking.
And then -
There it was.
Faint, barely there - but unmistakable. A scent. Harry stilled for half a second, breath catching. Severus never smelled like anything. Never. But now…
Something subtle brushed against his senses. Herbs, perhaps. Something clean, bitter - and underneath it, something warmer. Earthy. Soft.
Bergamot, maybe. It made his chest ache.
“Harry, what happened?” Poppy asked the moment they entered the infirmary, her voice sharp with concern.
“Severus fainted,” Harry said, already guiding him further inside. Severus immediately pulled away.
“I did not faint,” he sneered, though the bite was weaker than usual. “Everything is fine.”
Poppy huffed, entirely unimpressed. “I will decide that.”
Severus shot her an irritated look but didn’t argue further as she directed him toward one of the beds.
“Harry, my dear, I need to examine Severus thoroughly,” she said, gesturing toward the door. Harry didn’t move.
For a moment, he just looked at him.
Severus’ face was pale, exhaustion carved deep into the sharp lines of his features. Shadows clung beneath his eyes, and there was a strain there - something brittle, something dangerously close to breaking.
Something twisted painfully in Harry’s chest. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
“I’ll come by later,” he said, forcing himself to turn.
“No need for that,” Severus replied, but there was no real venom left in the words.
That more than anything made Harry’s stomach drop. Something was very wrong.
He stepped out into the corridor, the door was still slightly open. And then he stopped. His teeth sank into his lower lip as his mind raced. Severus would never tell him.
Harry had tried - Merlin, he had tried - to build something resembling a friendship. But it always felt the same: one step forward, two steps back.
Always just out of reach. A quiet sigh left him.
From inside he heard Poppy’s voice:
“Severus, I don’t need to tell you what’s wrong with you.”
Harry froze. His heart started pounding. No. No, he needed to know.
His fingers fumbled briefly with the small pouch at his belt before pulling out the Invisibility Cloak. The familiar, cool fabric slid over his shoulders, muting the world around him.
He knew it was wrong. But what else was he supposed to do?
Breath held, pulse loud in his ears, he stepped back into the room -
- and crept closer.
“No, you need not.”
Severus’ voice snapped sharp through the room, brittle with strain.
Poppy planted her hands on her hips, glaring down at him. “You are being unreasonable.”
The air felt suddenly too tight, too warm beneath the cloak. Harry barely dared to breathe.
“Severus,” she continued, her tone softening but no less firm, “you may only have a few months left. Perhaps less. If you would just speak to your Alpha -”
“No.”
Severus cut her off immediately, his voice low, final. “That was never up for discussion.”
Harry’s stomach dropped.
Alpha?
Months?
His pulse roared in his ears, loud enough he was certain they must hear it. What did that even mean? Severus’ Alpha? The words didn’t make sense. They refused to make sense.
Unless -
No. A cold, crushing grip tightened around his chest, stealing his breath.
Severus was dying.
The thought hit hard and sudden, like a blow.
“No…,” Harry mouthed silently, throat tight.
“Poppy, I merely require some sleep,” Severus said, sounding exhausted now, the sharp edges worn down. “And a pain reliever.”
“I do not like this,” Poppy muttered, but she moved anyway, gathering potions with practiced hands. Glass clinked softly as she passed them to him.
The faint, bitter scent of potion ingredients filled the air. Severus took them without protest this time.
After swallowing, he leaned back against the pillows, eyes closing almost immediately, his face drawn and pale against the white sheets. He didn’t speak again. Didn’t move.
Harry stood frozen beneath the cloak, his mind racing so fast it felt like it might tear itself apart. None of this made sense.
Severus had an Alpha? Since when? And why would that mean he was -
Harry swallowed hard, forcing the thought away, but it lingered anyway, cold and heavy. He needed answers. Now.
Carefully, silently, he stepped back, slipping out of the infirmary once more, the door barely making a sound as it closed behind him.
His hands were shaking. There was only one person he could talk to.
Hermione.
Harry stepped into Hermione and Ron’s flat without knocking.
The warm scent of dinner hit him immediately - tomato sauce, garlic, something familiar and comforting. Spaghetti.
“Hermione? Ron?” he called, voice a little too sharp.
“Mate, come in,” Ron answered from the kitchen. “You didn’t say you were coming.”
He was already pulling out another plate. Harry dropped into a chair at the table.
“Harry, what happened?” Hermione asked, turning toward him immediately. Her eyes sharpened. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Ron worked at the shop with George. Hermione, meanwhile, was an Unspeakable - sharp, observant, impossible to fool. Harry dragged a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself.
“It’s… Severus.”
That was all it took. The room shifted. His friends were with him now - solid, grounding.
“What about him?” Hermione asked, stepping closer.
“He fainted,” Harry said, words tumbling faster now. “And I - I overheard something. Poppy said he might be dying, and that he has an Alpha, and-”
“Stop.” Hermione held up a hand. “Slow down. What exactly did you hear?”
Harry swallowed.
“She said… he might only have a few months left. And that he needs to talk to his Alpha.”
Ron frowned. “But Snape’s a Beta.”
Hermione didn’t answer right away. Instead, she watched Harry carefully, her expression turning thoughtful.
“I haven’t seen him in months,” she said slowly. “Tell me how he’s been.”
Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers curling into his sleeves.
“He’s not well. Too thin. Pale. He barely eats - I’ve seen him just push food around his plate. And sometimes…” He hesitated. “Sometimes he looks like he’s in pain.”
Hermione nodded once. “That actually makes sense.”
“It doesn’t,” Harry shot back, frustration flaring.
“Harry…” Her voice softened, but there was no hesitation in it. “Severus is an Omega. And an unclaimed Omega… will die.”
The words landed like ice in his veins. Harry went still.
“Snape? An Omega?” Ron said, incredulous.
“But - why?” Harry asked, his voice rough.
Hermione gave him a pointed look. “Have you read the books about Omegas I gave you?”
“No,” Harry snapped. “Why would I? He was supposed to be a Beta.”
Ron scoffed. “Honestly, Harry…”
Hermione sighed, but pressed on. “Everything you’ve just described fits. He needs his Alpha. If he isn’t claimed…” She shook her head. “His body will start shutting down.”
Harry’s heart dropped, heavy and sickening, like it had fallen straight into his stomach.
“So I never even had a chance,” he said quietly, bitterness creeping in despite himself. The thought twisted something deep in his chest.
Severus. With someone else. With his Alpha. It felt like it was tearing him apart.
“But -” Harry pushed on, more urgently now, “I can at least make him tell who his Alpha is. I’m not going to just let him die.”
Hermione reached out, resting her hand over his clenched fist.
“Harry… it sounds like Severus doesn’t want his Alpha.”
“So he’d rather die?” Harry shot back, shaking his head. “No. No, that’s not -”
“Maybe his Alpha doesn’t want him,” Ron cut in bluntly. Harry blinked at him, stunned.
“You know what he’s like,” Ron went on, shrugging. “I get that you’re completely gone for him, mate, but… that’s a bit of a stretch.”
Harry’s jaw tightened.
“If I have to,” he said, anger sparking now, “I’ll make his Alpha claim him.”
“You can’t,” Hermione said firmly. “And you shouldn’t. You need to talk to Severus. And - Merlin, Harry - read the book.”
The smell of food suddenly turned his stomach. His appetite vanished completely. He pushed the plate away.
“I need to go back,” he said, already standing. “Thank you. Really.”
“Anytime, Harry,” Hermione said gently. But Harry was already halfway to the door, his mind racing again - faster, louder, more desperate than before.
Severus stirred slowly, consciousness returning in heavy, sluggish waves.
It felt as though he had been knocked out completely - likely the combination of Poppy’s potions weighing him down. His limbs were still leaden, his thoughts slow to gather.
He blinked. The infirmary was dim, lit only by a few low lamps that cast long, soft shadows across the beds.
Someone sat beside him. Severus narrowed his eyes slightly, vision sharpening. Harry.
He was hunched forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.
Severus’ heart gave a sudden, painful leap. He tried to suppress the instinct - but failed. He inhaled. Deeply. And there it was.
Harry’s scent hit him at once again - rich, warm, grounding. It wrapped around him, filled his lungs, settled somewhere deep beneath his ribs.
How could someone smell like that? Severus pushed himself, attempting to sit up, but his muscles protested sharply, trembling under the effort.
Harry’s head snapped up immediately. “You’re awake.”
Severus’ breath caught. Harry looked -
Wrong.
His skin had a grey, almost waxen pallor. Dark shadows dragged beneath his eyes, and those eyes - those bright, impossibly green eyes -
They looked… empty. Dulled. As if something inside him had already broken. What had happened? Severus’ gaze traced over his face, searching, trying to understand.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry rasped. Severus stilled.
Oh.
Oh.
No.
No, no -
Harry knew.
And he was -
Devastated.
Severus felt the sting of tears burn behind his eyes, sharp and unwelcome. He had expected rejection. Had prepared himself for it, for years.
But not like this. Not seeing it written so plainly across Harry’s face.
“There was no use in it,” Severus said at last, his voice quiet, rough. And there hadn’t been. He had been right to hide it.
“No use?” Harry repeated, his voice rising. “No use?”
Severus’ eyes widened slightly. He had never seen Harry this angry.
“Severus,” Harry snapped, pushing to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides, “you are fucking dying, and you don’t talk to your Alpha about it?”
The words struck harder than any curse.
“I made my peace with it,” Severus murmured. Harry’s hands flexed, as if he wanted to grab something - someone.
“Fucking… stupid man,” he muttered under his breath. Severus flinched, just barely.
“Who is it?” Harry demanded. Severus blinked, momentarily thrown.
“Who is what?”
Harry shut his eyes briefly, visibly forcing himself to stay composed.
“Who. Is. Your. Alpha.”
The words were ground out through clenched teeth. Severus stared at him. He… didn’t know? That made no sense.
Harry looked like someone already grieving - like he had lost something that hadn’t even been his. Severus’ thoughts faltered. Had he… assumed too much?
“That is none of your concern,” he said, defaulting to distance, to coldness. Harry’s eyes flashed - bright, sharp, dangerous.
“I will know,” he said, voice low and absolute. “I’m not going to let you die.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, agitation bleeding from every movement.
“Damn it. I need air.”
He turned abruptly and strode out, long steps quick and rigid, his back straight with tension. The door shut behind him.
Severus stared after him, mind struggling to catch up, to make sense of what had just happened. Nothing fit. Nothing -
“Never in my life have I seen two such idiots.”
Poppy’s voice cut through the silence. Severus shot her a sharp, warning glare.
“Harry is your Alpha, isn’t he?” she asked, softer now.
Severus closed his eyes briefly. He was so tired of hiding. So tired of pretending. When he opened them again, he gave a single, small nod. Poppy sighed.
“Severus, you are a brilliant man,” she said, shaking her head, “but utterly hopeless when it comes to relationships.”
“Poppy,” he snapped, though the bite lacked strength.
“Oh, come now,” she said, already turning away. “Someone has to tell you the truth. Talk to the boy.”
She paused at the doorway to her office, glancing back.
“You might be surprised by the outcome.”
Then she disappeared inside her office. And Severus was left alone -
his mind in chaos, his heart unsteady, his body aching - and, for the first time in years, uncertain.
Harry had been flying all night.
The cold air had bitten into his skin, the wind tearing at his robes as he pushed the broom faster and faster - but it hadn’t helped.
Not really. Even now, his hands were stiff around the handle, fingers aching from the cold and the tight grip he hadn’t been able to loosen.
His thoughts had never left Severus. Not once. He would lose him either way. The truth sat heavy in his chest, impossible to escape.
Either Severus would die - -willingly -
or he would go to his Alpha. Both options felt like they were tearing Harry apart from the inside. He should be better than this.
He should be able to be happy for him. If Severus loved his Alpha, if that was what he wanted - Harry should accept it.
But jealousy gnawed at him, relentless, sharp, a constant ache beneath his ribs. It held him in a suffocating grip.
And still -
He went back. Back to the infirmary. Back to Severus. Because walking away was not an option. Not when this was at stake.
The infirmary was quiet when he entered, the early morning light pale and thin through the windows. Severus was already awake.
And he looked -
Worse. Paler than before. His cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his face more pronounced. His hands trembled slightly where they rested against the blanket, and there was a tight, drawn line around his mouth.
Pain. Harry’s stomach clenched hard. All he wanted was to pull him close, to wrap him in his arms and make it stop. To tell him everything would be fine.
Omega or Beta -
Harry didn’t care. He just wanted Severus. Severus looked up at him, his eyes dark, almost black in the low light.
“Have you even slept?” he asked, voice slow, measured. Harry pressed his lips together and sat down beside the bed.
“No,” he said flatly. “I was flying all night.”
The chair scraped softly against the floor as he pulled it closer.
“Will you tell me now?”
There was no anger left in his voice. Only desperation. Severus swallowed. His throat moved visibly, and for a moment he simply looked at Harry - then away.
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. As if the words refused to come. Harry’s chest tightened. Severus shut his eyes.
“You,” he said finally, voice low, strained. “You are my Alpha.”
Harry blinked. The words didn’t land. Didn’t fit. For a second, he was certain he had misheard.
“I - what did you just say?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Severus didn’t open his eyes.
“You are my Alpha.”
The room seemed to tilt. Harry stared at him, trying to make sense of it.
Him?
He -
He was Severus’ Alpha?
But then -
Why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he hidden it? The answer came fast. Brutal. Because he didn’t want him. Cold spread through Harry’s chest, sharp and numbing.
Severus would rather die -
than be claimed by him. Harry went very still.
It was very quiet. Severus still had his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. Slow. Measured. Or at least trying to be.
Everything had become difficult. Every movement drained him. Every breath felt shallow, like his lungs refused to fully expand.
When he finally opened his eyes, Harry looked -
Shattered. Deathly pale, as if all color had been stripped from him. His gaze was fixed on Severus, filled with something close to horror. Severus’ vision blurred at the edges.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Severus.”
Harry’s voice snapped sharp through the haze. He surged forward, hands firm as he guided Severus upright into a sitting position.
The shift made Severus gasp - but then -
Air. Breathing became easier. Not effortless, but less suffocating. Harry dragged a hand through his hair in a jerky, frustrated motion.
“You… you would really rather suffer like this - rather die - than be bonded to me?” he demanded, anger roughening his voice. “You can barely breathe. You look like you’re in constant pain. And what exactly do you expect me to do? Just stand here and watch you die?”
His voice broke, just slightly.
“Do you hate me that much, Severus? Because no matter what I do, I’ll end up hating myself more.”
Severus shuddered.
“I do not hate you,” he said quietly. “Not in a long time.”
Harry stilled.
“Then why?” he asked, softer now. “Why would you choose this?”
“Harry,” Severus said, forcing the words out, “you do not want to be bonded to me. I simply… made that decision earlier.”
“How long have you known?” Harry asked. But the look on his face said he already suspected.
“Since your coming of age.”
Harry’s eyes widened. He turned away, pacing rigidly, running a hand through his hair again.
“And you never thought to tell me?” His voice rose, disbelief bleeding through. “Severus, I came back to Hogwarts because of you. Because I wanted you. And you - you -"
He broke off, throwing his hands up in frustration. Severus stared at him. This couldn’t be real. Harry could not have said that.
“You do not mean that,” Severus rasped. Harry turned back sharply.
“Don’t tell me what I mean, Severus.”
There it was. Pure Alpha. Sharp. Commanding. Unyielding. And his scent -
Stronger now. Richer. Pressing into Severus’ senses until it made his head spin. Still, Severus tried to breathe it in.
“Everyone believed I was a Beta,” he said, almost defensively.
“Yes,” Harry shot back. “And I didn’t care. I just wanted you.”
His voice dropped, quieter now.
“I didn’t even bother looking into Omega dynamics. Hermione gave me a book - I ignored it. Because I wasn’t interested in Omegas.”
His eyes locked onto Severus’. “I was interested in you.”
Harry sank down onto the edge of the mattress, the movement heavy with emotion.
“No… no, you cannot mean that,” Severus whispered. “Harry, I am too old. Too hardened. Too -”
“Stubborn?” Harry cut in, a faint, humorless huff leaving him. “Yes. That I know.”
His expression softened, something almost vulnerable flickering through it.
“I came here to finally know the real Severus. To become friends. And maybe…” He hesitated. “Maybe more.”
Carefully, he reached out, taking Severus’ hand. His grip was warm, steady. His thumb brushed slowly over Severus’ skin. Severus looked down at their joined hands.
Harry’s hand was calloused, slightly rough -
But it felt… right. Too right. His breath hitched.
“I know now you’ve been taking suppressants,” Harry said quietly. “But still… you smell -” He swallowed.
“- like heaven. Like… my mate.”
Severus shuddered. And still -
He hesitated. Fear held him in place. Fear of rejection. Of being wrong. Of losing this fragile, impossible moment.
Gathering what little strength he had, Severus leaned forward.
Harry looked up, eyes dull with exhaustion - but widening in surprise as Severus reached for him.
Severus’ hand came up to his neck, steadying himself as he slowly pulled him closer.
“I was afraid,” Severus whispered, voice barely there, “that I would not be enough for you.”
Harry’s breath caught.
“How do I prove to you that I mean this?” he asked softly. “That you are everything to me?”
Severus hesitated only a second.
“Perhaps… a kiss,” he murmured. “For a start.”
Something lit in Harry’s eyes again - faint, but real. He leaned in, pressing a gentle, careful kiss to Severus’ lips. Severus shuddered, breath catching at the soft contact.
“Severus…” Harry whispered, his forehead resting briefly against his. “If you truly mean this… I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore. I know this isn’t how it should be, not the proper ceremony - but -”
Severus lifted a hand, placing a finger against Harry’s lips, silencing him.
“It could not be more perfect,” he said softly. Then, slowly, deliberately, he tilted his head - baring his neck. Harry’s gaze darkened instantly.
“You smell incredible,” he murmured. A pause.
“I love you, Severus.”
His lips traced along Severus’ neck, slow and reverent, until he found the gland -
- and bit down. The sensation tore through Severus like lightning. Sharp. Overwhelming. Consuming.
“Alpha,” he breathed.
And then -
Relief. His lungs expanded fully for the first time in what felt like months. Air rushed in, deep and steady. The constant ache in his body eased, unraveling piece by piece.
Warmth flooded through him, his magic stirring, flowing freely again - like liquid gold beneath his skin. He was still weak, yes. But alive. Truly alive. Harry lifted his head, breathing hard.
“Omega,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. And then he kissed him again - deeper this time, certain and unrestrained.