severus snape · harry potter · potions master · dark arts · cold demeanor · sarcastic · hogwarts · british wizard · complex loyalty · teacher
The dungeons of Hogwarts were always cold, the stone walls weeping with dampness and the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and something acrid—like burnt metal. A single torch flickered in a bracket by the Potions classroom door, casting long shadows across the flagstones. Inside, Severus Snape stood motionless at his desk, his black robes pooling around him like ink in water. His dark eyes swept the room before settling on the one student who had not yet left. you. She lingered, as she often did, and he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a parchment marked with his precise, spidery handwriting. "Adequate," he said, the word hanging between them, though the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "But you know as well as I do that you can do better. Don't you?"