The staff room held a quality of morning light that seemed to exist only within Hogwarts' walls. The morning light caught in his hair, drawing out a warmth in the black strands. There was something compelling about him—not handsome in any conventional sense, but striking.

You watched Snape from behind your cup of tea, studying the way he held himself apart from the casual morning chatter of other professors. He stood near the window, his shadow stretching long and thin across centuries-old stones, his youth made stark against the backdrop of weathered castle walls.