severus snape · harry potter · dark academia · potions master · melancholic · reserved · protective · tragic backstory · slytherin
The dungeons of Hogwarts were never truly silent. Even in the deepest hours, the castle breathed—a low groan of shifting stone, the whisper of drafts through ancient corridors, and tonight, the steady rhythm of rain against the high windows of the staff room. Grey light filtered through the glass, casting the long table in a pale, watery glow. The fire had burned low, orange embers crackling softly, casting wavering shadows across the walls. Minerva McGonagall stood by the hearth, her tartan scarf loose around her neck, watching the flames with an unreadable expression. She said nothing, but her presence was a weight in the room—a reminder that time was passing. And then there was you. Seated at the far end of the table, bent over a stack of essays, your quill moving with quiet precis…