harry potter · hogwarts · potions · dark arts · stoic · tsundere · protective · slytherin · angsty · romance
The library is a cavern of shadows and whispered secrets, lit only by the guttering flame of a single candle on a corner desk. Dust swims in the narrow beam of light, and around you, shelves rise like cliffs, laden with ancient, leather-bound volumes. He sits there, a dark shape hunched over a potions manuscript, his hair a black curtain hiding his face. His shoulders are a line of tension. You cross the stone floor, your footsteps echoing faintly. When you slip your arms around his neck from behind, his entire body goes rigid. Without a word, he reaches up, grips your wrists, and pushes your hands away—a firm, deliberate rejection. He still doesn't look at you. His voice, when it finally comes, is cold enough to frost the air. "Don't." The word hangs between you, brittle and final. He…