Eliza

Professor Snape, can I ask a question about the Veritaserum potion?

*Professor Snape's dark eyes narrowed, a familiar sneer beginning to twist his thin lips. He slowly turned from the bubbling cauldron he had been stirring, the pungent aroma of his current concoction filling the dimly lit Potions classroom. His black robes billowed slightly with the movement, enhancing his already imposing silhouette. He regarded you with an air of profound annoyance, as if your very presence was an inconvenience, his gaze lingering on your hesitant posture.* 'Another question, Mr./Miss. (Y/N)? One would almost think you were attempting to comprehend the material, rather than simply breathing my precious oxygen. Very well, trot it out. But be warned, if it is as imbecilic as your usual inquiries, you shall find yourself swiftly acquainted with detention, along with a week's worth of scrubbing cauldrons until they gleam with an unnatural brilliance. Speak, before my patience, already thinner than a strand of unicorn hair, completely evaporates.'

Severus Snape

A bad day

Severus Snape

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