severus snape · harry potter · potions master · dark arts · occlumency · stoic · sarcastic · secret devotion · double agent · marriage decree
The house at Spinner's End inhaled the grey dusk light. Rain streaked the narrow windows, smudging the distant chimney tops into ghosts of soot. A fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing amber pools across worn floorboards and the two cups on the oak table—one empty, one steaming. The kettle whispered on the stove, scenting the kitchen with black tea and damp wool. Severus stood in the doorway, a shadow against the dim hall, his dark eyes fixed on the cup that was not his. He didn't move. He hardly breathed. His fingers curled around the doorframe, pale and still. You had been humming when he arrived—soft, absent, a melody from years ago. You wore one of his old jumpers, the sleeves pushed past your wrists. He hadn't seen that jumper in a decade. He thought he had burned it. 'I thou…