Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-12-05
Updated:
2025-12-15
Words:
5,212
Chapters:
8/50
Comments:
15
Kudos:
38
Bookmarks:
8
Hits:
498

Anchored [Severus Snape x Reader (you)]

Chapter 7: 1984 — Sixth Year, Part II

Chapter Text

The spring term opens with an announcement: a visiting curse-breaker from Gringotts will be giving a career lecture to sixth and seventh years interested in applied magical theory.

You sign up immediately. Priya rolls her eyes but comes along anyway.

The curse-breaker is a witch named Theodora Wainwright—sharp-eyed, mid-forties, with weathered hands and scars that speak of close calls in ancient tombs. She talks about pyramid ward-schemes in Egypt, the ethics of dismantling protections that were meant to last millennia, the mathematics of curse-anchor dissolution.

You're transfixed.

"Most people think curse-breaking is just Alohomora with extra steps," she says, levitating a demonstration ward-lattice above the desk. Pale-blue runic threads shimmer in three-dimensional space. "But it's architecture in reverse. You have to understand why a ward was built, how it thinks, before you can safely take it apart. One wrong cut—" She severs a support rune, and the entire structure collapses into sparking fragments. "—and you trigger every failsafe at once."

She reconstructs it with a lazy flick, then notices your intensity from the third row.

"You. Ravenclaw. What's the first rule of ethical curse-breaking?"

"Consent of context," you answer immediately. "If the ward was placed to protect something sacred or dangerous, you have to understand whether removing it serves a greater good or just serves you."

Theodora's eyebrows rise. "Someone's been reading ahead. What's your name?"

You tell her.

"Good answer. Most breakers don't think about ethics until they've accidentally released something cursed or culturally protected." She grins. "Come find me after if you want to talk Gringotts recruitment."

You do.

By the time you leave, you have a contact name, a reading list, and a suddenly crystallized vision of your future: fieldwork in Egypt or Peru or the Carpathians, dismantling curses, publishing theory papers that matter.

It feels right in a way that nothing else has.

You're so excited you nearly bowl over Professor Snape in the corridor.

"Miss [s/n]." He steadies you with one hand, then immediately releases you like you've burned him. His expression is its usual mask of vague irritation. "Do attempt to watch where you're going."

"Sorry, Professor. I was just—" You catch yourself before you start babbling about curse-breaking theory to someone who definitely doesn't care. "Distracted."

"Clearly." His gaze flicks to the pamphlet you're clutching—Gringotts International Curse-Breaking Division: Career Pathways. An unreadable expression crosses his face. "You are considering curse-breaking."

It's not a question.

"Yes. It's... it's exactly what I want to do. Wards and runes, but applied. Practical." You sound too enthusiastic. You don't care. "The mathematics alone—"

"Are considerable," he finishes. His tone is flat, but not dismissive. "The Egyptian tombs are particularly complex. Nested keystones with recursive failsafes. The Gringotts teams lose one or two breakers a year to miscalculations."

"I know. But that's because they rush. Cut corners." You clutch the pamphlet tighter. "If you're precise, if you understand the structure—"

"If." He regards you with that unnerving stillness. "Precision is not a trait commonly found in seventeen-year-olds."

"I'm sixteen."

"My point stands."

You should be offended. Instead, you're oddly pleased that he's engaging at all. "I'm precise. You know I am."

A pause. Then, almost reluctantly: "In potions, yes. Wardcraft is adjacent enough that the discipline should transfer." He adjusts his robes with sharp, economical movements. "You will need top marks in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Gringotts does not hire mediocrity."

"I have top marks."

"Currently. Maintain them." He starts to sweep past, then stops. Doesn't look at you. "If you're serious about Egyptian tomb systems, there's additional reading beyond what Wainwright likely recommended. Comparative analysis of Middle Kingdom versus New Kingdom layering techniques. I can provide references.”

Your heart lurches in a way that feels utterly inappropriate.

"Thank you, Professor."

He's already walking away, black robes billowing like he's personally offended by the corridor's existence.

Priya appears at your elbow. "Did Snape just... help you? Voluntarily?"

"He was being practical. I need the reference for my career path."

"Uh-huh." She links her arm through yours. "And I need to believe that you're not hopelessly gone on our very illegal, very inappropriate Potions Master."

"I'm not—"

"You are. But at least you're good at hiding it." She steers you toward the stairs. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in a position where he can really hurt you.”

You won't.

You probably can't even if you want to.

But the warmth in your chest from that brief interaction lingers far longer than it should.