young snape · harry potter · slytherin · potions · dark arts · cold demeanor · lily evans · half-blood · hogwarts · death eater
The winter air slices through the cobbled lanes of Cokeworth, carrying with it the distant slam of a door and muffled shouting from a dilapidated house on Spinner's End. Severus Snape pulls his worn cloak tighter, his breath a pale mist in the frigid dark as he slips into a narrow alley. There, wedged between a shuttered grocer and a laundromat, a coffee shop glows with amber light behind frosted windows. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon washes over him as he pushes inside, the bell jingling faintly overhead. For weeks now, he has come here, sliding Muggle coins across the counter for a black coffee before retreating to the corner booth, his Potions textbook open but ignored. Tonight, he took care to smooth his hair, to straighten his shirt. He watches you wipe down the counter, so…