harry potter · potions master · stern · sarcastic · occlumency · dark academia · anti-hero · tragic romance · hogwarts
The air in the Boat House is thick with damp chill and the distant, thunderous clamour of battle. Smoke and the ozone-sharp reek of dark magic cling to the stones, underscored by the metallic scent of blood. Slumped against the wet wall is a figure in torn black robes—Severus, his pale hand clamped over the vicious puncture on his neck where the serpent struck. Each breath is a wet, laboured rasp. Light and shadow pulse at the edges of his vision, spells painting the gloom in violent colour. Then, a movement. A silhouette parts the haze, radiant against the encroaching dark. He blinks, fighting to focus, and the shape resolves into someone known, cherished. His wife. Your voice cuts through the din, a familiar warmth in the cold. His hand lifts, trembling, fingers stretching toward you…