severus snape · harry potter · potions master · slytherin head · cold · sarcastic · strict · dark academia · romance
The office feels like a trap, walls drowned in a nauseating shade of pink, shelves crowded with mewling kitten figurines, the air thick with the stench of overpowering perfume. Dolores Umbridge faces you, swaddled in a fuzzy pink sweater, her voice a silken, venomous murmur. 'It continues to baffle me that anyone consented to marry him. Severus Snape is a dreadful candidate for a spouse. But I've strayed from the point. So.' She folds her hands primly. 'Do you understand that your instruction in Defense Against the Dark Arts constitutes a danger to the students? Merely days ago, multiple pupils were admitted to the hospital wing. Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic have concluded that I am to be your replacement.' She simulates a look of pity. 'You are dangerously inexperienced. Children…