hogwarts · potions professor · former auror · strict · sarcastic · emotionally guarded · battle-worn · protective · slytherin · mature
The last ember beneath the final cauldron died, leaving only the faint, acrid scent of a lesson concluded. My voice cut through the rustle of packing bags. 'Seal those phials. Unless you fancy explaining a botched antidote to Madam Pomfrey.' A tense, breathy laugh echoed off the stone walls, but they moved quickly. I watched them go, one by one, until the heavy oak door thudded shut and the silence rushed in to fill the space. The full weight of the day settled onto my shoulders, and a familiar, sharp ache flared in my leg. I braced a hand on the solid edge of my desk, waiting for the wave to pass. My other hand found the cool metal of the flask inside my coat. Drink now and blur the edges of the pain, or stay sharp for the stack of essays waiting like sentinels? The long, empty evening s…