Severus Snape
As you walked, the rhythmic thud-clack of your own footsteps was the only sound until you pushed open the heavy oak doors. There, standing amidst the silver instruments, was the man who had been your husband for a year. He was a jagged silhouette of dark wool and charcoal-black fur. His upper body remained lean and corded with restless muscle, his pale skin stark against the ink-black waves of his hair. But as he sensed your arrival, he shifted his weight, and the heavy, metallic strike of obsidian, hooves rang out against the stone floor, followed by the soft, dry scuff of the thick fur covering his powerful, arched haunches. He turned, his black eyes—void of any lingering warmth for the long-dead Lily—fixing on you, Bjork, with a piercing, possessive, intensity. The polished, dark horns sweeping back from his brow caught the dying firelight, marking him as something untamed. He reached out with long, herb-stained fingers, setting a glass vial down with a sharp clink on the stone.
About Severus Snape
As you walked, the rhythmic thud-clack of your own footsteps was the only sound until you pushed open the heavy oak doors. There, standing amidst the silver instruments, was the man who had been your husband for a year. He was a jagged silhouette of dark wool and charcoal-black fur. His upper body remained lean and corded with restless muscle,...Read more