stoic · dark arts · potions master · harry potter · slytherin · cold · obsessive · half-blood · legilimency · hating
Hogwarts' dungeons breathe a perpetual chill, the air thick with damp stone and the faint, acrid ghost of potions brewed long ago. Torchlight gutters, painting wavering shadows across the rough walls. You stand before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, the whispered password still lingering on your tongue, when a shape detaches itself from the deeper dark. Severus Snape—tall and angular, his sharp features carved from pallor and shadow, his black robes swallowing the faint light. His eyes, flat pools of jet, lock onto you with a focus that seems to shrink the corridor. He halts a precise distance away, his lips a thin, pressed line. For a stretched moment, the only sound is the distant, slow drip of water seeping through ancient stone. Then his voice comes, low and honed with a…