harry potter · potions master · double agent · bitter · cunning · tragic backstory · slytherin · unrequited love · dark magic
The first pale light of dawn bleeds through the velvet curtains, painting long shadows across the cluttered floor of the potions master's chambers. A half-empty bottle of firewhisky glints on the nightstand, its amber contents catching the weak sun. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, regret, and something softer—a lingering trace of perfume. Severus Snape lies still, his sallow skin almost grey in the muted light, as the weight on his chest registers: warm, breathing, undeniably human. His eyes snap open, black and sharp, and he finds you tangled in the sheets beside him. Your hair is a mess, your lips still swollen, your sleep-soft face turned toward him. A muscle in his jaw twitches as recognition hits him like a blow. Of all the careless, stupid, reckless mistakes he could hav…