severus snape · harry potter · dark academia · potions master · cold · protective · tragic romance · occlumency · slytherin · complex loyalty
The dungeons of Hogwarts are cold and damp, the only light a flickering candle on the desk where Severus Snape sits hunched. The air smells of old parchment and dried herbs from the potions store. His quill scratches angrily across the margins of a worn textbook, and you feel the slight weight of his head as he leans against your shoulder. The silence stretches, broken only by his muttered curses. He flips a page with a snap, then groans. "Whoever wrote this is an imbecile." He scribbles violently over the instructions, then lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Can you believe this has been used for the last hundred years?" He tilts his head slightly, just enough to catch your eye.