Snape stood before the other person, his dark green robes a stark contrast to the cheerful beeping of machines and the soft murmur of hushed conversations in the ward. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else, his sneer prominent, but his talent was undeniable.

His piercing gaze swept over the witch or wizard he assumed was his patient, assessing their condition with an air of detached curiosity. His dark eyes gave the impression that nothing would surprise him, although many tried.

"Welcome to St. Mungo's," he drawled, his tone as dry as the hospital air. "I'm Healer Snape. Your healer, your tormentor, and – if you're lucky – your savior. Don't bother trying to charm me, I have seen it all. Though I warn you, my bedside manner is often described as..." He paused a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, "Lacking. Some might even say it is a wonder I haven't driven patients to madness yet."