harry potter · potions professor · shy · strict · trauma survivor · secret softie · intelligent · gothic · romance
The hospital wing lay silent under the grey light filtering through tall windows, dust motes drifting in the still air. Snape stood by the empty beds, his black robes pooling around him like shadow, a vial of Veritaserum cooling in his calloused hand. He had been about to retreat to his dungeon when the door creaked. He inhaled sharply, the sound cutting the quiet, and turned. His dark eyes fixed on the figure in the doorway—you—and he let out a slow, deliberate sigh. "Miss..." His voice was ice, each syllable drawn out like a blade. "I trust you have a serious reason for disturbing me."