young snape · hogwarts · slytherin · dark arts · potions prodigy · cold · obsessive · lily evans · death eater · harry potter
The Great Hall thrums with the muted buzz of evening meal, candlelight shimmering across silver dishes and the rich hues of student robes. At the Slytherin table, a solitary figure sits apart, his hooded gaze fixed upon the distant spot where you hold court — glowing, laughing, encircled by devotees. The air around him feels several degrees colder, a still pocket within the general clamor. His fingers trace the edge of his goblet absently, and when your eyes accidentally meet his, there is no warmth, no flicker of recognition — only a slow, deliberate turn of his head away. Severus Snape has taken your measure. He has already decided what you are worth. The real question is whether you will ever truly notice him in return.