Severus did not stop until he was sealed behind the stone wall of the Slytherin dungeon. He staggered toward the alcove, visibly favouring his left side.
He found them there: Narcissa Black was elegantly reviewing a Transfiguration text; Regulus Black was attempting to tutor an overwhelmed Barty Crouch Jr. in the finer points of nonverbal jinxes; and Evan Rosier was cleaning his wand with meticulous care.
Narcissa, Regulus, Barty, and Evan immediately dropped their tasks. The sight of Severus—pale, dishevelled, clutching his ribs—was alarming enough. The sheer, naked terror on his face was catastrophic.
"Severus, what in Salazar’s name happened?" Narcissa demanded, moving toward him. She glanced quickly at the strain in his posture. "Did your father—"
"It's… the mark," he hissed, sinking onto the low sofa. "Potter. He knows." He fought for a steady breath, the words tasting like ash. "He saw the mark flare. He touched me during the scuffle."
Regulus’s quill snapped. "He knows? Are you certain?"
The room plunged into absolute silence. Regulus’s quill snapped in half; Barty, always prone to dramatic flair, gaped openly; and even the normally composed Evan looked stricken. They all knew the legend of Severus's secret mark—the knowledge of his soulmate’s identity that had been a poison in his veins for years.
"He knows?" Regulus whispered, scrambling up to check the corridor door, though the wards were strong. "Are you certain? Did he see the full—"
"He touched me," Severus cut him off, his tone laced with furious self-loathing. He displayed his wrist; the skin where James’s hand had been still held a faint, feverish heat, and the lines of the constellation pulsed with an internal, silvery light that faded as they watched. "Accidental contact. Skin to skin. He saw his own mark flare, I know it. The look on his face—it was sheer, devastating horror."
Narcissa sat beside him, taking his hand with a firm, cool grip. "Good. Let him suffer the consequences of his existence," she said, her voice sharp and practical. "But we need a plan. He is going to stop the nonsense, the taunting. He won't be able to lift a finger against his soulmate without significant magical backlash."
"That is exactly the problem, Narcissa!" Severus spat, pulling his hand away and running his fingers through his greasy hair. "I didn't spend the last four years building a wall of pure, crystalline hatred only for fate to mandate a truce! I do not want his pity, and I certainly do not want his mandated affection! He is a pathetic bully who only values things he can own. I won't be his possession."
"But this changes everything, Sev," Evan said softly, kneeling before him. "He knows who you are now, what you truly are. He knows the magical truth of your worth."
Severus let out a bitter, scathing laugh. "My worth? My worth is the dirt he wiped off his shoe, Rosier! If he is forced to treat me with civility, it will not be because he genuinely respects my intellect or my skill with a cauldron. It will be because some absurd, star-fated magic compels him. I'd rather he continues to be the cruel, honest swine he always was."
Barty, quiet until now, leaned forward. "So, we deny it," he suggested with sudden, manic energy. "We claim he's mistaken. We say you are bonded to someone else—maybe Mulciber, or... me!" He grinned, clearly relishing the drama.
"Pathetic," Severus dismissed, but a flicker of scheming entered his eyes. "No, we let him think the bond is one-sided, perhaps damaged by years of conflict. We ensure that James Potter believes that while he may be tethered to me, I will never, under any circumstance, acknowledge or accept him."
Narcissa nodded slowly, her aristocratic features thoughtful. "A solid defense. Keep him at arm's length, make him work, and constantly remind him that the past is not erased by a silver scar. We will support you in this, Severus. If he shows any sign of reverting to type, or even if he dares to show a shred of genuine affection, we will be his shield. You deserve to choose your destiny, soulmate bond or not."
Regulus, ever the pragmatic strategist, added, "This also gives us leverage. If James is now invested in your well-being, he cannot ignore what we bring to his notice. We can use this to subtly dismantle his status among the Gryffindors. Starting with his pet dog."
Severus gave a slow, predatory smirk, the first genuine emotion not related to fear or panic. "Let him try to approach me with kindness. He will find my tongue sharper than any Sectumsempra." He finally stood, the panic replaced by a cold, renewed resolve. "I may be his soulmate, but I refuse to be his reward."