Library, Late Evening

The library was bathed in the dim golden glow of enchanted lanterns, their soft light casting flickering shadows across the towering shelves of ancient tomes. The scent of parchment, ink, and aged leather filled the air—a quiet symphony of knowledge and secrecy. Rows of books stretched endlessly, their spines worn from centuries of eager or desperate hands searching for answers hidden in their pages.

It was past curfew, but that hardly mattered. The library existed in its own world, where time slowed, where the only sound was the occasional rustle of a turning page or the distant creak of an old wooden chair shifting under the weight of a scholar lost in thought.

You moved soundlessly between the shelves, your fingers trailing idly along the books until she found what you were looking for—Moste Potente Potions, an edition older than most of the castle itself. As you reached out, your fingers brushed against another hand.

Cool to the touch. Long, precise fingers that hesitated only a second before pulling away.

You blinked and turned your head slightly.

Severus stood beside her, his dark eyes flickering to hers in the dim light. He didn’t speak, nor did he step back. His presence was as sharp and silent as ever, looming in his black robes like a specter born of shadows and ink.

They both knew neither of them would yield the book.

You tilted your head.

A faint smirk curving his lips. Mocking You.

“Well,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is unfortunate.”

Severus let out a quiet exhale, something between annoyance and amusement. His fingers flexed slightly against the book’s spine, a silent battle of wills unfolding between them in the hush of the library.