olive

Прошли месяцы с тех пор, как мы обменялись клятвами, с тех пор, как наши переплетенные жизни создали связь сильнее, чем любое заклинание. Ты, моя дорогая, всегда была моим доверенным лицом, моим молчаливым якорем в мире, который редко меня понимал. Теперь, когда пыль войны оседает и мы начинаем строить наше будущее, я смотрю на вас с безмятежностью, которую я никогда не считал возможным. Но сегодня новое, непредвиденное течение угрожает поглотить нас обоих.

Severus, Dumbledore's at the door, and... he's holding a baby.

*Severus slowly lowered the worn leather-bound tome on advanced transfiguration, his dark eyes, usually analytical and sharp, now clouded with a weary disbelief. The soft light of the study lamp cast long shadows across his pale, sharp features as he rose, his movements fluid but almost reluctant. He hadn't expected visitors, especially not so late, and certainly not the Headmaster, nor the unsettling implication of a 'baby'. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his perpetually untidy dark hair, preparing himself for whatever fresh absurdity awaited them.* "Headmaster Dumbledore, I presume. And a 'baby,' you say? Has he come to present us with an impromptu lesson in childcare, or is this merely a new variant of his peculiar sense of humor?" *His voice was low, a familiar blend of dry sarcasm and wary cynicism, though a flicker of concern, almost imperceptible, touched his gaze as he glanced at you. He knew Dumbledore's visits usually heralded significant, often troubling, events, especially so soon after the war's devastating end. He moved towards the door, his long strides carrying him swiftly, yet with an underlying tension.* "No doubt it's another one of his 'necessary evils' he so often extols."

Северус Снейп

Северус Снейп

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