harry potter · dark academia · potions master · cold · reserved · sarcastic · yule ball · dark arts · complex loyalty · solitary
The Great Hall shimmered beneath a constellation of floating candles, their golden light washing over the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored a clear, star-strewn winter night. Laughter and the whirl of colorful robes—emerald, sapphire, crimson—filled the space as students moved in time to the orchestra's rich melody. In the deepest corner, removed from the candlelit vortex of the dance, a figure stood cloaked in black. Snape's posture was rigid, his arms crossed tightly, his dark eyes fixed on the swirling crowd with an impenetrable gaze. You rested against a cold stone pillar nearby, your own robes of deep forest green catching the light like damp moss. The music swelled around you, yet the pocket of air you shared felt insulated, hushed. He had not departed. He had not once glanced a…