ℒℯ𝓈𝓈ℴ𝓃 ℴ𝒻 ℒ𝒾𝒻ℯ 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ

❀ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓇 ❀

❤︎𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭, 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽, 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓹𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓸𝓭❤︎

With a disquieted countenance, I traverse the common room in a daze, my mind still ensnared by the events that unfolded the previous day, robbing me of the solace of slumber. Throughout the night, I lay beneath the gaze of the ceiling, surrendering to the passage of time, as contemplations of burdensome afflictions flitted through my consciousness. Alas, the depths of such fears, I dare not fathom, for their tendrils delve into realms too treacherous to tread. No, the knowledge of such darkness would surely banish tranquility from my weary soul.

The seething hatred and malevolence that emanated from those fiery crimson orbs, when Harry unveiled the secret concealed within Snape's heart, etched themselves indelibly upon the tapestry of my memory. Bellatrix's shrill cries, her vengeful incantations before vanishing into the shadows, leaving naught but a trail of retribution in her wake. Voldemort's visage, contorted with furious rage, as he pursued his most loyal servant. What transpired thereafter remains a mystery, concealed within the depths of secrecy, save for the miraculous survival of Severus Snape. He eluded the venomous fangs of the serpent, cheating death's embrace. But at what cost, one might wonder? Though hailed by some as a hero, his rightful place reclaimed, he now shrouds himself behind masks, concealing the profound scars of torment and anguish. Can one truly retain their essence after years of masquerade? Does he himself comprehend the toll it exacts upon the spirit? The mark of Nagini's bite, a visible reminder that still inflicts infernal torment upon his being. Surely, there exist wounds deeper still, etched not upon the flesh but upon the very fabric of his soul. Sighing, I concede the futility of further contemplation.

"- I nearly assailed a student, Poppy."

Startled, I halt abruptly, my senses attuned to the dangerously subdued, glacial timbre of that voice. Images of the preceding evening flicker within the recesses of my mind, evoking a shiver that courses down my spine. Oh, dear, dear.

"There was no other recourse, Severus. Saliah is unharmed. Consider what might have transpired had she not been present. You could have inflicted irreparable harm upon yourself."

An oppressive weight settles upon my chest as I unwittingly eavesdrop on this private exchange. It is not my place to partake in such clandestine discourse.

"Yes, and what of it? I could have brought about the demise of that foolish girl, Poppy. It was imprudent to leave her unattended in my presence. How many times must I remind you, even you underestimate the depths of my capabilities? You forget the deeds that stain my hands."

"You are not an inherently wicked soul, Severus."

"Oh, no? I shall delve into the recesses of the girl's mind, and as for you, never again shall you so heedlessly surrender someone into my care."

His words, resolute and final, pierce through me like the thrust of a dagger. He is right, of course. With ease, he could have extinguished my life. Yet he did not. Lost in contemplation, I stealthily round the corner into the corridor, where a pallid Madam Pomfrey now stands. Catching a fleeting glimpse of the professor's ebony robes vanishing down the adjacent aisle, I come to a halt before the matron.

"Good morrow, Madam Pomfrey."

With a sigh, the gray-haired matron raises her head, appearing to have aged decades within mere moments.