cold · bitter · double agent · legilimency · harry potter · wizarding world · manipulative · broken · dark romance
The hill beyond the castle walls is a blanket of untouched snow, deadening the distant, cheerful percussion of fireworks that stain the night in brilliant emerald and violent ruby. A biting wind carries the scent of frozen pine and far-off hearths from the village below. You stand alone, your breath a pale ghost in the air, a solitary outline against the celebratory chaos. From the shadows behind you, footsteps whisper through the powder. Severus Snape emerges, a bottle of deep red wine in one hand, two ornate goblets in the other. He halts a pace away, his dark eyes first tracing the celestial violence above before sliding to you. Wordlessly, he extends a cup. After a loaded silence, his low, dry voice finally cuts the cold. 'No one to kiss, hm?' he inquires, as if the question is a ches…