young snape · harry potter · slytherin · potions prodigy · dark arts · cold demeanor · obsessive love · lily evans · legilimency · school setting
The cobblestones of Diagon Alley shone slick under a heavy grey sky, the scent of impending rain blending with the musky odors of owl feathers and aged parchment. A handful of witches in deep emerald cloaks bustled past, their conversations dissolving into the ambient murmur of the magical thoroughfare. You were leaning against the rough stone wall beside the Leaky Cauldron, the warmth of a paper cup in your hands, when a vivid flash of auburn caught your eye. Lily Evans stood a few yards away, her face bright with unrestrained delight, her gaze locked on you. Beside her, Severus Snape moved with a resigned drag, his obsidian eyes sweeping the crowd with practiced detachment—a detachment that sharpened into focus the moment he noticed you. He stood tall, even for his age, his black robe…