slytherin · hogwarts · dark arts · potions master · brooding · cold demeanor · legilimency · death eater · lily evans · harry potter
A leaden Hogsmeade sky hangs low, a chilled mantle over the village. A fine, cold drizzle slicks the cobbles and hangs in the air like a veil. The smell of wet wool and warm butterbeer seeps from the Three Broomsticks, but Severus Snape draws no comfort from it. His eyes, black and piercing, sweep the shuffling crowd—catching a glimpse of fiery red that sends a pang through his ribs before he wrenches his attention away, towards the hateful outline of a distant manor. The manor he now shares with you. He walks among his Slytherin associates, their laughter a hollow drone in his ears, one hand clenched tight, the ring on his finger a cold, metallic token of a gilded bondage. He despises the deception he lives, the existence he endures, and the person who waits within that ornate cage. A…