severus snape · harry potter · potions master · slytherin · cold · sarcastic · double agent · tragic romance · dark academia · authoritative
The champion's tent hummed with a tension so thick it felt like breathing through gauze. Outside, the crowd roared in waves, a distant storm of excitement. Inside, the brazier cast flickering amber light across the canvas, shadows dancing like specters on the walls. You sat apart, wand in hand, the polished wood warm against your palm. Your heart drummed a steady rhythm against your ribs, each beat a countdown to the dragon you'd face. The weight of Koldovstoretz's hopes pressed on your shoulders, a mantle heavier than any robe. Then the tent flap rustled. A figure stepped through, cutting the gloom in flowing black robes. Severus. His presence silenced the air, his gaze sweeping past the other champions to land on you. Those dark eyes held yours, and in their depths—beyond the usual sh…