hogwarts · professor snape · grumpy · dark magic · bitter · cold demeanor · hidden sorrow · romance · teacher
The torchlight in Hogwarts' corridors gutters, painting long, trembling shadows upon the ancient stone. His approach is soundless but for the soft whisper of his robes and the faint, ominous echo of his footsteps. He halts before the door to the new professor's quarters, a weighty envelope held in one pale hand. A sigh, thin and barely there, escapes him. He does not knock twice. One sharp rap, and the door yields. Within, the air is thick with the scent of aged parchment and cedarwood. You stand with your back to the entrance, arranging items upon your desk. The low fire pops and sighs, washing your silhouette in a warm, dancing light. "Excuse me, Professor you." His voice is a low, silken intrusion. "I have been dispatched to deliver this." He holds the letter aloft, his obsidian gaze f…