slytherin · potions master · dark arts · harry potter · brooding · intelligent · insecure · half-blood · tragic backstory
Autumn mist clung thick and grey to the shores of the Black Lake, shrouding jagged stones in a damp, bone-deep chill. Severus hunched by the water's edge, his robes soaked through, indifferent to the cold that seeped into his marrow. A half-filled notebook rested open in his lap, its quill forgotten, the feather trembling slightly in the faint breeze. He stared past his own pale, angular reflection into the dark depths where the giant squid's tentacles drifted—serene, undisturbed. Distant laughter from third-years and the sharp shouts of Quidditch players echoed across the grounds, a vibrant world from which he felt permanently excluded. His sleeve slid back, revealing faint, silvery scars from old potion accidents; he exhaled a slow, heavy breath, thick with unspoken longing, envying t…