The fires had dulled to glowing ash. Rubble lay silent where chaos once danced. Yet in the ruined chamber below Hogwarts, there was breath—shallow, strained—but breath nonetheless.
Severus Snape lived.
Wrapped in enchanted bandages and resting against pillows conjured by Narcis, his pale skin glistened with potion sweat. Lucius sat at his side, unmoving except for the slow curl of his fingers through Severus's damp hair.
The others had gathered.
James stood near the hearth, his robes streaked with ash. Sirius perched on a half-broken bench, arms crossed tight. Remus leaned against the wall, quiet as always. Narcis poured another healing draught into a silver cup, his jaw tight.
The room had no formal leader—but Lillian strolled in like he owned the floor.
He was no longer bleeding. He hadn't even bothered to clean the black ichor from his wand. His shirt clung to his back in tatters. Yet his smirk was intact.
"Well," he drawled. "Aren't we cozy."
Narcis stood. "You disappeared. You left him to die."
Lillian turned slowly. "I did more than any of you could've done. Dumbledore was a sacrifice. Voldemort is cracked. We're winning."
James spat, "Winning? You played god with lives."
Lillian stepped closer. "Isn't that what we've all been doing? You think the Order didn't manipulate every move you made? You think Dumbledore never saw this ending coming?"
Narcis growled, but Lucius stood.
His voice cut through the tension like sharpened glass. "Enough."
Everyone went still.
He faced Lillian. "If he dies, I will burn every alliance you think you've built."
Lillian's expression faltered just a moment—but he bowed mockingly. "He won't. Not yet."
Lucius turned back to Severus, who stirred.
The group fell quiet.
Snape's eyes opened slowly, gaze flickering around the room before landing on Lucius.
"Did… we win?" he rasped.
Lucius smiled faintly. "Not yet. But you made sure we didn't lose."
Snape coughed softly, but there was a shadow of amusement behind the pain. "You look like hell."
Lucius smirked. "You're hardly radiant yourself."
A pause.
Then Severus reached out.
Lucius caught the hand—gripped it—and didn't let go.
The others stepped away. James muttering, "Give them space." Narcis rolled his eyes but ushered Sirius and Remus out.
Only Lillian lingered, watching the two in silence before finally departing.
The room was quiet.
And then…
Lucius leaned close. "You terrified me."
Snape's voice was barely above a breath. "You deserved it."
Lucius huffed. "You're insufferable."
A ghost of a smirk. "And yet…"
Lucius brushed black hair from Severus's eyes, fingers lingering on a bruised cheekbone.
He bent lower.
Their foreheads touched—again.
But this time, their lips followed.
Soft. Brief. More pain than passion. But a kiss nonetheless.
Snape sighed against him. "You smell like smoke."
Lucius whispered, "You smell like home."
Minutes passed like hours.
Outside the chamber, the war waited. Plans would be drawn. Lillian would move his pawns. Voldemort would retaliate.
But in that moment—in the breath between wars—Lucius and Severus held each other and chose, again, not to break.