Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

Returning to Hogwarts after the Greengrass Manor Christmas holiday felt like walking into a slow-simmering cauldron of chaos. Not because of Voldemort (that creep hadn't shown his face yet), or Death Eaters (they were on break too), but because Astoria Greengrass had redefined the word "hyperactive chaos." The moment Daphne and I stepped through the enchanted barrier, the lack of thunder, fire, and flying blue-feathered missiles felt... blissful.

"I feel like I can finally breathe again," I muttered, tossing my trunk on the Ravenclaw rack.

Daphne, beside me, sighed in relief, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I love my sister. I truly do. But if I had to watch her set one more hedge maze on fire while Vajra electrified the manor's dinner bell, I was going to cry."

I chuckled. "We survived mythical bird madness. Hogwarts is practically a holiday now."

Time skip,

It was a Friday night in late May, one of those warm spring evenings at Hogwarts where the sky blushed purple and orange before slipping into velvet black, and the scent of blooming flowers drifted in from the greenhouses. Final exams were approaching, and the tension was thick, especially since the school had recently been rattled by yet another attack — the discovery of Hermione Granger, petrified.

Despite Harry Potter's killing of the basilisk and the destruction of Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets earlier that month, the effects of the attacks hadn't vanished. Hermione remained frozen, waiting for the effects of the mandrake restoration potion. The castle held its breath.

Iwas already halfway through my first sip of firewhisky when Snape poured his own glass.

"I never thought I'd say this," Snape muttered, leaning back in his chair. "But I miss the chaos of Christmas break."

I snorted. "Because Astoria's chaos was at someone else's house?"

Snape raised a glass. "Exactly."

We two men clinked glasses in mutual understanding. It had become something of a ritual—Friday evenings, a quiet drink, and catching up like old war buddies. In a way, they were.

Snape glanced sideways. "You know, Potter's little stunt with the basilisk and Granger still hasn't settled down. Poppy's been practically living in the Hospital Wing, and I've been brewing potions like a madman."

"You always look like a madman," Jon said, smirking.

Snape sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah," Jon said, finishing his sip. "Want me to run a delivery for you?"

"As a matter of fact…" Snape reached behind the desk and handed him a wooden crate. "Calming draughts. Mandrake restoration elixirs. Give these to Pomfrey before we get too deep into our drinking. You might find her still upright."

Jon grunted. "Alright, alright. Don't start the whiskey without me."

"I won't. Maybe."

The walk through the halls was peaceful. The May breeze slipping through the old stone windows was warm and fragrant, and the only sound was the echo of Jon's boots.

The Hospital Wing doors were cracked open. Jon stepped in, balancing the crate carefully. But then—

He stopped dead.

Draco Malfoy stood beside one of the occupied beds—Hermione Granger's. Still as stone. Still petrified.

Draco held her hand.

"You probably think I don't care," he whispered, voice cracking as if the truth itself hurt to say. "That I'd be glad to see you like this. But I'm not. I'm not, Hermione."

He closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath. "You were always… everything I couldn't be. Brilliant, fearless, kind even when people didn't deserve it. When I didn't deserve it. And I—Merlin—I hated that. Because it made me realize how empty I really was."

His fingers curled protectively around hers.

"Every time I insulted you, tried to belittle you, it was because I saw what I was never allowed to be. You challenged everything I was taught to worship. Blood. Power. Pride. And instead of listening, I made you my enemy."

He swallowed, eyes stinging.

"But I see it now. The way you smiled when you were excited. The way you stood up to everyone—even me—for what was right. You were the light in a world I didn't even know was dark."

A tear slipped down his cheek and landed softly on her bedsheet.

"I don't know if you'll ever forgive me. Hell, I don't even know if you'll wake up. But if you do—if some miracle brings you back—I want to be worthy of standing beside you. Not as a rival. Not as a regret. But maybe… maybe someday, as someone who deserves your smile."

He leaned in, pressed his forehead against the back of her still hand.

"Please, Granger. Wake up. Give me the chance to make things right. I'll wait. However long it takes."

I ducked into the shadows, stunned.

After a long moment, Draco stood, wiped his eyes, and left the wing without noticing me.

I waited until the door clicked shut before stepping forward and placing the crate on Pomfrey's desk.

His heart felt heavier than before. Despite Harry Potter's slaying of the basilisk and the destruction of Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets earlier in the month, the effects of the attacks hadn't vanished. Hermione remained frozen, awaiting the effects of the mandrake restoration potion. The castle held its breath.

-----

Outside, the wind kissed the turrets, and the Forbidden Forest rustled with whispers no one dared to understand. Inside the dungeons, the fire in Severus Snape's office crackled, casting gold across old stone walls, bottles of potion, and the sharp edges of two lives lived in the shadows.

Severus poured two glasses of firewhisky.

"This is stronger than last time," he muttered. "Your liver may not survive."

"I fought a vampire witch hybrid last summer," I said, pulling the glass toward him. "I think I can handle a Scottish malt."

Snape scoffed. "Show-off."

"Grumpy."

We drank.

For a while, we talked about nothing — cars, ridiculous students, Lockhart's abysmal dueling technique, and whether Vajra could technically qualify as a professor if he delivered lectures via screaming.

Then the air shifted.

"You ever think about how history loops?" I said softly, swirling the amber liquid.

Snape's black eyes glanced up. "More often than I like."

I leaned back, the edge of my smile thin, ironic. "Well, you're not gonna love this one."

He arched a brow but stayed silent.

"I went to drop off the potions you brewed. Thought I'd sneak out quickly. But then I saw him—Draco. In the hospital wing. Standing by Granger's bed."

Snape tensed. His knuckles turned white around the crystal glass. "Explain."

"He was holding her hand. Whispering to her. Apologizing. Telling her to wake up. Sev—he was crying."

Snape closed his eyes slowly, as if in pain. "So it begins again."

"He wasn't faking it," I said. "It wasn't guilt—it was... love. Or something real close. That kind of grief only comes when you realize you've been the villain in someone else's story for too long."

Snape stared into his glass. "It's like watching my life unfold in another's skin. I stood by her once. The only difference was, Lily didn't survive long enough for me to apologize."

I blinked, surprised.

He continued, voice low and haunted. "I didn't cry until it was too late. And when I did, there was no one left to see it. No forgiveness to be earned."

"You've been forgiven," I murmured.

"Perhaps. But I will not watch Draco lose himself like I did. If I can change that ending, I will."

"I'll help you," I promised. "Even if it gets messy. Especially then."

Snape's smile returned, grim but genuine. "Over Christmas, I told you and the Greengrasses—Diana said yes."

My eyes lit up. "So? When's the big day?"

"August 10th," he replied softly.

I grinned. "End of summer. Perfect."

"I plan to take Draco with me—told him we're going on a holiday to France. He doesn't know he'll be standing beside me at the altar."

I choked on my drink. "You're kidnapping your godson for your wedding?"

"Strategic misdirection," he corrected, smirking.

"Sure. Very Slytherin of you."

"He needs to see it—see that love doesn't always have to end in regret."

"Especially with Hermione still petrified. And after she gets cured."

"I'll pull Draco to my side. Away from the darkness. He still has a choice."

"And I'll stand with you," I said, my tone sharper now. "He's your godson, Sev. And you're my brother—not by blood, but by choice. I'm not letting you walk this path alone."

Snape looked at me, eyes flickering. "Why, Jon?"

"Because I hate the ending too. I hate that you had to stand alone when everything fell apart. I won't let it happen again. Not to you. Not to Draco."

He took a breath, deep and long. "You idiot."

I grinned. "Takes one to know one."

Snape lifted his glass. "To Draco. May his story not end as mine did."

I raised mine. "To Hermione. May she wake to something better."

We drank.

And then, naturally—

"So... who's the flower girl?" I asked.

Snape groaned. "Astoria. She threatened me."

I snorted. "You've got a thing for terrifying girls."

"I teach Slytherin."

For a while, we just laughed.

Two brothers. Two soldiers. One promise.

To change the ENDING.