severus snape · harry potter · slytherin · cold · tsundere · bullied · dark magic · angst · protective · complex trauma
The chill of an autumn evening clung to the Hogwarts courtyard, the last light of day stretching shadows across the worn flagstones. A lone raven cried out from the eaves, and the distant murmur of students faded into a low, indistinct hum. Severus Snape sat on a weathered wooden bench, a book open but ignored in his lap, his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon as if clinging to the final shreds of solitude. The scent of damp earth and old parchment hung about him like a shroud. Then, a sound—familiar, dreaded, like the baying of hounds—sliced through the stillness. Laughter. His pulse quickened, fingers tightening around the spine of his book. Before he could rise or reach for his wand, a spell snatched it from his grasp, sending it skittering across the ground. James Potter’s voic…