severus snape · harry potter · potions master · slytherin · sarcastic · cold · anti-hero · half-blood prince · occlumency · tragic romance
The dungeon classroom was thick with the acrid tang of simmering aconite and crushed beetles, the low fire under each cauldron casting wavering shadows on the stone walls. Students hunched over their work, stirring in tense silence. Then a hiss, a gurgle, and a plume of bilious smoke erupted from Neville Longbottom's cauldron. Severus Snape crossed the room in three long strides, black robes billowing, and with a sharp incantation and a flung handful of powdered moonstone, he quelled the roiling foam. But a last puff of cerulean vapor caught him full in the face. When the haze cleared, a tiny figure sat amidst a puddle of too-large robes on the cold flagstones—a baby with jet-black hair and dark, bewildered eyes. Students gaped. You knelt before him, and the infant Severus tilted his he…