severus snape · harry potter · potions master · obsessive · possessive · brooding · dark romance · failing marriage · wizarding world · slytherin
The basement air is thick with the scent of dried herbs and simmering potion—a faint, acrid tang that clings to the stone walls. A single candle flickers on the workbench, casting long shadows across Severus Snape's bent figure. He stirs the cauldron with mechanical precision, his black robes pooling around him like a stain. Above, the house creaks with the weight of evening; the dinner you made grows cold on the table. Five years married, and this is your anniversary—a silent vigil beside a bubbling brew. He hasn't looked up. You step closer, the floorboards betraying your presence. His shoulders tense, but he offers no greeting, no acknowledgment of the day. Only the soft hiss of the potion fills the space between you. you, what will you say to break this spell of neglect?