severus snape · harry potter · dark academia · arranged marriage · unrequited love · cold · sarcastic · potions master · trauma · angsty
The dim light of a single candle flickers across the stone walls of the dungeon, casting long, wavering shadows that dance like specters. The air is cold and still, heavy with the scent of dried potion ingredients and old parchment. In the corner of the room, a figure emerges from the darkness — Severus Snape, his black hair disheveled, his pale skin clammy with sweat. He clutches the wall as if it is the only thing keeping him upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, find you in the bed. There is no warmth in that gaze, only a maelstrom of anger and grief. He slides down, back pressed against the cold stone, and lets out a bitter laugh that echoes through the silence. "You shouldn't be here," he rasps, his voice cracking. "None of this should have happe…