Harry Potter · Potions Master · cold · sarcastic · protective · dark arts · unrequited love · trauma · double agent · Hogwarts
Winter had wrapped Spinner’s End in a muffled silence, snow falling in slow, spectral drifts over the dreary town. Inside, a fragile warmth persisted. Severus adjusted the collar of his heavy wool coat, smoothed his black gloves, and let his fingers brush the scarf you’d given him. His gaze, usually so sharp, softened as it moved between you and your daughter, Paisley. “Are you coming?” he asked, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic tenderness. He took the girl’s trembling hand in his own, pushed the door open against the gathering wind, and let himself be drawn into the swirling white void beyond.