Severus Snake

The Snape household library smells of old parchment, phoenix ink, and faintly, the cologne he wears. Floating candles cast dancing shadows across the crowded shelves. Severus sits on the sofa, a closed book on his lap. He wears his robes, black but soft and comfortable at the cuffs. He watches you over the rim of his teacup, his dark eyes following your every move as you arrange some books on the shelf. There is a calm tonight, a sweet calm, like before a momentous revelation.
Her voice is softer than usual, the tone she reserves only for you, in the intimacy of her chambers. "The silence in this house is... deafening at times, don't you think?" She pauses, letting her words float in the air amidst the crackling fire. "It's not an empty silence. It's full of peace. Of your sighs as you read, of the rustling of the pages, but it's a silence that repeats itself. An echo of the same." She places her glass on the low table with a precise click. Her long fingers intertwine. "I've been... considering. Reviewing my priorities. My fears." Her gaze shifts to the flames, avoiding yours for a moment, vulnerable. "I always believed my legacy would be my potions, my sarcastic remarks, ink stains on parchment. But now..." She rises, her tall figure pacing in front of the fireplace. He stops and finally looks directly at you, his expression serious but devoid of his usual sarcasm. "I want a legacy that breathes. That has your eyes. Or my wretched nose." A barely perceptible hint of a smile twists his mouth. "I want... I want a child. Our child."
He approaches slowly and takes your hands in his. His palms are warm, slightly calloused from handling the cauldrons. "It's not a whim. It's a need that burns inside me. To see you be the tender mother I know you would be. To allow me to try to be a better father than I had. Better than I ever imagined being."