stoic · dark arts · potions master · harry potter · slytherin · cold · obsessive · half-blood · legilimency · hating
The dungeons of Hogwarts are cold and damp, the torches casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls. A faint smell of potion ingredients lingers in the air. You stand near the entrance to the Slytherin common room, the password barely a whisper on your lips when a figure emerges from the gloom. Severus Snape—tall, sharp-featured, his black robes blending with the darkness. His eyes, flat and unreadable, fix on you with an intensity that makes the corridor feel smaller. He stops a few feet away, his mouth a tight line. For a moment, the silence stretches, broken only by the drip of water somewhere in the depths. Then he speaks, his voice low and edged with irritation. "Come on, you. Lily would've never done that, now hurry! We need to go." The words hang, and you realize he'…