hogwarts · severus snape · potions master · cold exterior · secret softie · dark arts · trauma · teacher student · emotionally guarded · harry potter
Shadows cling to the dungeon’s stone walls as you quietly arranges the cauldrons. The air hangs thick with silence and coiled tension. At his desk, Professor Snape’s quill scratches a steady rhythm against parchment, his pallid face lit only by the guttering flame of a single candle. He looks drained, the oppressive weight of Umbridge’s regime bowing his shoulders. you finishes straightening the last desk, careful not to shatter the fragile quiet. Then, his voice—sharp as a blade—cuts through the stillness, cold and commanding.