Reborn as Petunia Evans with a System-Chapter 52 - 50

The storm broke sometime after midnight.

Not a real one no thunderclaps or rain against the windows but a quieter, more insidious kind: the kind that swept through a family and left everything fragile in its wake.

Severus stood in the corridor outside the conservatory, unseen. He hadn't meant to listen. Truly. But the voices had carried, soft at first, then rising, a tide of memory and accusation and pain.

And now he couldn't unhear it.

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He didn't return to his bedroom that night.

Instead, he wandered.

Through the darkened halls of Prince Manor, past portraits who stirred in their frames and blinked down at him with tired disinterest. Through the gallery of dusty spell books and oil paintings, until he found himself in the old potions laboratory.

It was cooler there, the walls thick and silent. Glass jars lined the shelves in rows some glowing faintly with preserved roots, some cloudy with old age. The smell of lavender and lye lingered in the stone.

He sat at the long workbench, elbows resting on the smooth slate. In the dim light, his mind raced.

Alphard Black.

His father.

It made no sense. And yet it explained... everything. The lemon allergy. The resemblance he'd brushed off. The strange, thoughtful way Alphard had watched him during dinner, as though memorizing his face.

He didn't sleep.

When the morning sun finally spilled through the stained-glass window, he was still there, a half-finished brewing schematic sketched on the parchment in front of him.

The next day passed in a strange sort of limbo.

His mother said nothing of the night before. Her eyes were red-rimmed but her tone remained even, practical. She asked if he'd eaten. If he'd written to Lily and Petunia.

Severus nodded and answered in short replies. But he didn't ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue.

Not until Alphard arrived again the next evening.

He wasn't dressed like a diplomat this time. No Ministry robes. No silver cufflinks. Just a crisp linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black slacks that made him look far more ordinary. More human.

"Mind if I come in?" Alphard asked, standing in the doorway of the study where Severus had retreated with a book he hadn't truly been reading.

Severus looked up and gave a cautious nod.

Alphard stepped inside. "Your grandfather said you were in here."

A pause.

"I suppose you heard everything last night," Alphard said softly. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

Severus said nothing.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me," Alphard continued. "I... It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Severus studied him carefully. "You didn't know."

"No." Alphard sighed and crossed to the empty chair near the fireplace. "If I had... if I'd known you existed, I would've moved mountains to find you and your mother."

There was something raw in his voice. Unpolished. It didn't match the diplomatic calm he'd worn the night before. It sounded real.

"I thought..." Severus started, then stopped. His throat felt dry. "I thought my father was Tobias Snape."

Alphard's expression darkened. "I know. Eileen told me what happened. I—" He looked away. "You didn't deserve that."

"Neither did she."

"No," Alphard agreed quietly. "She didn't."

The silence stretched.

Finally, Severus asked the question that had gnawed at him since he'd left the potions room.

"Why didn't she tell me? All this time?"

Alphard hesitated. "You'll have to ask her that. But I think... maybe she was trying to protect you. Or maybe she was protecting herself. She lost everything once and when you came along... you were all she had left. Maybe she thought you'd be safer without knowing."

Severus didn't know what to say to that. He stared down at his hands, the ink smudge on his fingers from the parchment earlier.

"You know," Alphard said slowly, "when I first saw you, I thought you looked like her. But then you turned, and you tilted your head a certain way, and I" He laughed softly. "You've got my father's scowl. Merlin help you."

Severus snorted, in spite of himself. "I'm told I look intimidating."

Alphard gave a small, crooked smile. "That's probably true."

Another pause.

"I know I can't make up for the years we lost," Alphard said. "But... if you want to get to know me, I'd like that."

Severus looked at him sharply.

"And if you don't," Alphard added quickly, "that's fine too. I'll respect your choice."

Severus opened his mouth, closed it. Frowned. "Why are you being so reasonable?"

Alphard blinked, then chuckled. "I suppose because I've spent years surrounded by people who weren't. I've made mistakes. I've watched my family fall apart because of secrets and pride. I don't want that again."

Severus considered this.

Then, slowly, he said, "You said you travel. Rome, Istanbul..."

"Yes."

"If I... wanted to visit sometime. See what those places are like."

Alphard's gaze brightened. "You'd be welcome. Anytime."

There was a long silence. The fire crackled gently. Shadows danced across the ancient walls. Severus looked into the flames, jaw tight, as if he were weighing the last of a dozen unspoken things.

Then, very quietly, he said, "Alright... Dad."

The word was soft barely audible but it echoed louder than any incantation.

Alphard went still. For a second, he looked as if he hadn't heard correctly. Then his breath caught, eyes wide with disbelief and something rawer something breaking open in his chest.

"You... what did you say?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

Severus looked up at him with those sharp, dark eyes. "Don't make me say it again."

But Alphard was already standing. He stepped forward as if in a dream, his expression a mix of wonder and vulnerability rarely seen on his aristocratic face. "Severus..."

Severus stood too, awkwardly, hands half-raised like he wasn't sure what to do.

And then Alphard wrapped his arms around him in a tight, fierce hug.

Not hesitant, not polite this was the kind of hug given by someone who had waited years for a chance that never seemed to come.

Severus stiffened, startled.

But after a moment, after a breath he slowly raised his arms and hugged him back.

The kind of hug that says: I'm still not sure what this is, but I want it.

Alphard closed his eyes. A quiet, shaky laugh escaped him half-joy, half-relief. "You have no idea what that means to me."

Severus didn't say anything. But he didn't pull away either.

When they finally stepped apart, Alphard's eyes were glassy. He cleared his throat and gave a watery grin. "Well. That settles it. You're not getting rid of me now."

Severus huffed a laugh. "I figured."

Alphard reached out, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you, son."

Severus looked away, ears turning a faint pink.

Later that night, Severus found his mother in the conservatory again.

She was sitting in the same chair, moonlight gilding the edges of her hair. This time, though, she wasn't clutching tea. She was holding a letter—old, faded, and familiar.

"I reread it," she said without turning. "The one I thought Alphard sent. It wasn't his handwriting. I don't know how I missed it."

Severus didn't reply. He sat down beside her.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," she said quietly. "But maybe I was just... afraid."

"You still could've told me."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a long time.

Then Severus reached over, picked up the letter, and folded it carefully.

"We can't go back," he said. "But we can go forward."

Eileen turned to look at her son and for the first time in years, he looked not like a boy bearing the weight of others' choices, but like someone carving his own path.

"I'd like that," she said, tears glimmering in her eyes.

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