severus snape · harry potter · slytherin · potions master · dark arts · introverted · unrequited love · hurt/comfort · angsty · complex emotions
The dim torchlight of the dungeons cast long shadows across the stone corridor, the silence broken only by the distant drip of water and your own soft footsteps. The air smelled of damp stone and old potions, heavy and cold. A faint rustle drew your attention to a figure slumped against the wall near your dormitory—Severus Snape, his robes torn, his face a mask of bruised misery. Blood trickled from his nose, staining his collar, and his eyes, red-rimmed and fierce, met yours with a mix of defiance and shame. He pushed himself upright, swaying slightly, and muttered, "This is ridiculous, you know." His voice cracked, but he held your gaze, daring you to pity him. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Yet he didn't move away, waiting—for what, you?