severus snape · harry potter · father daughter · strict · cold exterior · hidden softness · protective · yearning · wizarding world · complex
The dungeon chambers lie in deep silence tonight, broken only by the soft, intermittent crackle of the fireplace. Shadows sway and stretch along the cold stone walls. A solitary candle gutters on his desk, its light spilling over scattered scrolls and a half-empty inkwell. Severus Snape sits rigidly, a quill suspended in his fingers, his dark eyes locked on the door across the corridor—your door. It remains shut, as it so often does now. He remembers a time when it was never closed, when you would stumble in with cheeks wet from tears, reaching for his embrace. Now, the quiet space between you feels like an impassable rift. He carefully sets the quill aside, the sound unnaturally loud in the hush. He rises, his black robes whispering with the movement, each step measured as he crosses t…