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Snape thinks it may have taken until after the war to realize there was something different about them- different, and strange at first.
After the war, they had floated around, dazed and confused. The whole reason they were alive, breathing and fighting, was now just… Gone. Like it never existed.
They had been branded a war hero when they weren’t paying attention, but that didn’t stop people from calling them vile words, and to spit and hex them.
Eventually, enough was enough. Snape decided they no longer had to put up with Wizarding Britain’s harshness. At that revelation, they had packed their bags and left to travel, to finally see the things they had wanted to see after Hogwarts.
No turning back, no remorse, not even Potter’s worried owls made them feel guilt.
Perhaps that’s when the changes started happening.
It started when they were in magical France, sitting at a candlelit table, with fairy lights darting about.
They had been enjoying their sweet wine, something they hadn’t ever thought to try until they got to France, and this particular restaurant brewed their own wine.
When Snape had looked up from reluctantly trying snails, much to the amusement of the waiter, they had locked eyes with another magical being.
A being, that Snape for the life of them could not figure out if they were a female or a male. The person across from them smiled nervously, and Snape had to refrain from sneering in contempt.
As Snape watched with curious eyes, another person- Snape thought they were a female, judging by their hair- came up to person A, and leaned over to kiss their cheek.
Snape watched as they exchanged a few words, before person B looked over at them. Snape jolted as they realized person B was actually a male, and they flushed as the man walked over to them.
“Hello there, we were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner? My partner was intrigued by you, and, well, I’ve learned it’s easier to just agree rather than try to argue.”
Snape glanced at them with wary eyes, but all they saw was an honest hopefulness.
Why not, Snape thought to themselves.
Snape pushed out of their chair, and avoided their eyes. It was odd, having someone genuinely want their company.
“What’s your name?” Person A asked, their voice soft and quiet. “I’m Aurora.”
“Severus.”
Person B dragged another chair to their small table, and smiled at Aurora. “I’m Dany.”
“That’s a Muggle name.”
“Muggle?” asked Dany.
“He means Moldu, love.”
Dany nodded, understanding. “Yes, I am a Moldu. Would that be a problem?” There was an edge to his voice, and a coldness in Aurora’s eyes.
Snape blinked and shook their head.
Aurora and Dany both smiled at Snape, then at each other.
After that night, Snape realized this was what happiness felt like.
Snape remembered when they were eight, they had stolen a Muggle dress from Lily. They had slipped it on in the middle of the night, and it had felt odd, in a good way.
It was soft.
But they much preferred their jeans and t-shirts.
Snape remembered, one day they woke up, and they had felt more energetic than they had felt, in forever, probably.
It was… Odd, in a nice way.
They had moved on to Italy, but they still Floo’d to visit Aurora and Dany on the weekends.
After almost a year of being friends with them, Snape had picked up on some of their habits. They had soon discovered that the rest of the world was much more forgiving and open than his home land.
Some days, Snape felt like wearing a lacy blouse with a matching scarf, and some days they could be cajoled into wearing jeans.
And some days, Snape wore ankle length skirts that flowed in the wind, and a flower print shirt that clung to their skin. On those days, Snape didn’t bother to cover their faded Dark Mark, and instead decorated their hair with little braids.
Sometimes, Potter was able to convince him to come home for a quick visit. One of those visits was for the birth of his godson, Albus Severus.
He had arrived, not in his black heavy robes, but another one of those blue skirts that Muggles called Bohemian, with the matching white blouse. With their chipped nail polish, and on their feet had been their traditional dragonhide boots, and their hair was fully braided away from their face, now much longer since Snape had taken to travelling and working with mail order and taking odd jobs. After all these years, Snape practically lived with Aurora and their husband. It was so permanent, that they had built a Potions lab for them in the basement as a Christmas gift.
And, something that Snape would never speak about, was how they sometimes slept together, legs interlocked and Snape in the middle. They would drag Snape out of their lab at one in the morning, and they would hold hands, with Aurora telling tales and Dany giggling, and Snape hiding their smile in their pillow. Those were their favorite nights, as they never quite liked sleeping alone.
But for now, Snape was quite pleased to see Weasley and Granger’s eyes widen, and even Potter looked surprised, but it was quickly replaced with a warmth he had only ever seen directed at the boy’s friends.
“It’s nice to see you, Professor.”
“Just Snape.”
If anything, the boy’s grin got wider, and his friend’s eyes wider.
“Would you like to meet your godson?”
Snape nodded, and didn’t wait for him, instead pushing past and into the hospital room.
There was Ginevra, her red hair sweat slicked and her face pale, but in her arms was a baby boy with a blue hat, and from what they could see, black hair the color of his father’s, and skin almost as dark as Potter’s, but mixed with Ginevra’s milky pallor.
The door opened behind them, but they were more focused on the little bundle in her arms. Snape figured the other children were with a babysitter, so she could have a quiet postpartum.
“Is this him?” Snape whispered, hands outstretched to carry their godson.
Ginevra stole a glance at Harry, and was bolstered at his eagerness.
“Yeah, here. Be careful with his head.”
Snape’s sharp retort died on their tongue as the warm bundle settled in their arms, and all the obligations of being a godparent reared their heads.
But the occupants were treated to something they never thought they would see.
As Snape held Albus’ little, wrinkly hand, they smiled.