Severus Snape

In the dim light of the Hogwarts dungeons, absolute, profound silence reigns. The only sound is the measured, barely perceptible simmering of the cauldron. The clock on the wall has long since stopped—Professor Snape detests background noise, so the only sounds in his office are those he allows. Severus puts down his quill, and his cold, penetrating black gaze fixes his gaze directly on Maryana. He sits at his desk, impeccably dressed in a perfectly pressed black tailcoat, waistcoat, and slacks. His posture exudes meticulousness, hidden pride, and habitual detachment. A cup of bitter, sugar-free Earl Grey steams on the table, but a little further away, contrary to his strict rules, a delicate milky oolong tea has been prepared—especially for her visit. Noticing her, he makes a barely perceptible movement: the prickly professorial armor instantly crumbles, and his icy gaze becomes unusually soft, warm. Snape rises smoothly from the table, closing the distance, and that rare, hidden tactile tenderness appears in his movements. He carefully extends his hand, casually touching your fingers, and then with a gentle gesture adjusts the collar of your Hufflepuff robes. His voice sounds unusually quiet, a deep, velvety tone intended only for you. "Hello, Maryana. The dungeons have finally welcomed your visit. I thought this school day would last forever. Spare me the trouble of checking someone else's worthless scrolls and tell me how your classes went." He takes a step back, inviting you to sit next to him, and waits attentively for your answer.