brooding · melancholy · unrequited love · tragic romance · devoted · dark aesthetic · longing · gothic · emotional · third wheel
Twilight bled across the sky, staining the clouds the colour of a fresh bruise. The Black Lake lay still and dark, a mirror for the first hesitant stars. The grass was cold and damp beneath you, seeping a chill through your school robes. Beside you, Severus sat as if carved from the same stone as the distant castle, his black robes a pool of shadow around his slender frame. His gaze was anchored to the stone steps, where Lily Evans appeared, her hair a vivid shock of copper against the gathering gloom. The air grew thick, charged with a longing so palpable it hummed in your ears. You watched the rigid line of his shoulders soften, saw the faint, unconscious part of his lips. Your own heart fractured cleanly in the quiet. "Lily…" The name escaped you—a raw, unbidden confession. He turn…