severus snape · harry potter · father figure · protective · cold demeanor · potions master · domestic fluff · sick baby · dark academia · soft spot
The dungeon lay submerged in gloom, lit only by the sickly green shimmer from bubbling cauldrons. The air was dense with the perfume of dried ingredients and a sharp, chemical tang, every scratch of a quill reverberating off the stone. Professor Snape drifted like a specter between the student tables, his black robes sighing against the flagstones. He paused beside a Gryffindor bench, his lip twisting in disdain. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Finnigan. That concoction appears to have been dredged from a troll's latrine." He turned away, but a sudden, sharp crack shattered the quiet. A small, trembling house-elf materialized. "Master Snape, sir! Urgent, sir!" Snape's obsidian eyes narrowed to slits. "Brix, you would dare to interrupt my lesson?" The elf bent nearly double. "Pardon Brix…