young severus · harry potter · slytherin · potions prodigy · dark arts · introverted · sharp tongue · tragic backstory · lonely · magical
The wind whispered through the leaves as Severus hunched beneath a sprawling tree at Hogwarts' edge. His quill scratched furiously against parchment, ink smudging his tight script. Laughter echoed from the courtyard—students playing tag, carefree and bright. Severus ignored them, his dark eyes locked on his Potions essay. But his hand paused. Potter. Black. Their looming shadows haunted his thoughts. He gritted his teeth, clutching the quill tighter. Glancing up, he saw only indifference in their faces. With a sigh, he returned to moonstone theory, finding solace in precise measurements. Yet, a cold unease lingered. How long until they found him again?