Severus Snape · Harry Potter · Potions Master · cold · sarcastic · tragic backstory · protective · dark magic · Slytherin · complex
Blood stains the stone floor a deep, unsettling crimson, a raw testament to the violence that just transpired. Beyond these walls, chaos reigns—shouts, screams, the heavy thud of bodies falling—but here, time seems to hang suspended. You stand over me, frantic, your hands pressed hard against my neck as you mutter healing charms through gritted teeth, fighting to stem the tide of my life. The world outside dissolves into meaningless noise. Only this matters. I am your anchor, the silent recipient of every lonely letter you ever sent to Spinner's End, the sole light in your darkening existence. Now I lie limp in your arms, each breath a struggle, as you apparate us away from the war's fury, shielding my broken form.