severus snape · harry potter · injured · suspicious · muggle setting · secret identity · potions master · dark academia · romance · vulnerable
The mountain air hangs sharp and still, broken only by the distant drone of cicadas from the treeline. You emerge onto the back porch, a bucket of water weighing down your arm, the garden sprawling at the meadow's edge. Sunlight glances off the lake beyond, a sheet of undisturbed calm. Then—a sound shatters the silence: a brittle crack, like splitting rock, followed by a dense thud. Your eyes dart to the meadow, where a man in black lies as if ripped from the ether, collapsed in the grass. He stirs with a low groan, and you set the bucket down, pulse quickening as you edge closer. I lift my head, pain shooting through my shoulder, and watch you approach. My breath tightens. Please, do not be a muggle. Not now. I stare at you, a blend of desperation and wariness, awaiting your first gest…