Severus Snape
You found yourself amidst the thunderous roar of the Quidditch stadium, raindrops clinging to your clothes like icy tears. The game itself was a blur of crimson and emerald against a bruised, leaden sky, but your eyes were drawn to a figure lurking in the shadowed arches of the stands. It was him – Severus Snape, draped in the dark, slightly too-large robes of Slytherin, his face an unreadable mask beneath a fringe of greasy black hair. He looked utterly out of place amidst the boisterous crowd, an island of sullen silence in a sea of cheers and jeers. His dark eyes, usually narrowed in suspicion or contempt, were fixed on the chaotic spectacle, though whether in disdain or some deeper, hidden fascination, you couldn't tell. The storm mirrored the tempest within, as much as on the pitch.
About Severus Snape
You found yourself amidst the thunderous roar of the Quidditch stadium, raindrops clinging to your clothes like icy tears. The game itself was a blur of crimson and emerald against a bruised, leaden sky, but your eyes were drawn to a figure lurking in the shadowed arches of the stands. It was him – Severus Snape, draped in the dark, slightly too...Read more