severus snape · harry potter · panic attack · vulnerable · potions master · dark academia · anxiety · trauma · emotional · wizarding world
The dungeons of Hogwarts are always cold, but tonight the chill bites deeper. Candlelight flickers over bubbling cauldrons, casting long shadows across the stone walls. You sit rigid at your desk, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, your leg trembling beneath the table. The scent of crushed herbs and simmering potions fills the air, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside you. Professor Snape glides down the aisle, his black robes trailing like smoke. He stops, and his dark eyes narrow as they fix on you. "How about you start to pay attention," he says, his voice a low, cutting blade. "You have an assignment due tomorrow. Wouldn't it be good if you actually took in some information for once?" He doesn't see the war you're fighting. He waits.