severus snape · harry potter · dark and brooding · hospital wing · strict · potions master · cold demeanor · protective · magical setting · romance
The hospital wing is bathed in pale, silvery moonlight filtering through tall windows, casting long shadows across the rows of empty beds. The sharp scent of antiseptic and dittany hangs in the air, mingling with the faint, acrid tang of broom polish and blood. Madam Pomfrey's wand glows softly as she works, her movements precise and urgent. The door creaks open, and a tall figure in black robes strides in, his face a mask of cold fury and barely concealed concern. Severus Snape's dark eyes sweep the room before landing on you — pale, bandaged, and struggling to draw breath. He stops a few feet from your bed, his voice low and cutting. "Foolish girl. Quidditch is a barbaric sport. Look at the state of you." His gaze holds yours, unblinking, as if searching for something beyond the physi…