Severus Snape: The Half Blood Prince

*(36) Veracious or Villanous

Kneeling beside her bed, Severus met her gaze, his voice filled with conviction. "Always."

Severus gently kissed her forehead, bidding her a sweet goodnight, and couldn't resist the temptation to tuck her in, ensuring her comfort in the covers. Deep down, he yearned to be lying beside her, sharing the warmth of their connection, but he dared not risk jeopardizing their current circumstances with such a desire. As he padded down the dimly lit corridor, every step was a careful dance, his dark eyes fixed on the path before him, but his mind was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. The very act of leaving Sophie's side had become an exquisite form of torture, for every fiber of his being yearned for her. In that moment, he felt an internal battle raging, one that involved his duty, loyalty, and the raw emotions that he had tried to suppress.

As Sophie began to drift into sleep, Severus made the decision to leave before his own desires compelled him to stay and provide solace to every part of her on this momentous day. He quietly exited the Dark Lord's room, stepping lightly and deliberately, as if each footfall carried the weight of the world. He made his way to his own room on the lower floor, The lower floor, where Severus's room resided, was a stark contrast to the rest of the dark and ominous castle. It was a testament to his own personality, an oasis of contrasts - white walls and black furnishings, embodying the dualities he had always wrestled with. In the midst of this elaborate space, he felt like a prisoner of his conflicting desires.

Lying down on his bed, the thin layer of fabric between him and the cool sheets only accentuated the emptiness beside him. The room seemed vast and desolate without Sophie's presence, her absence like a void he couldn't fill. Memories of their shared moments flashed before him like scenes from a hazy dream - moments when they laughed when they argued, and when they leaned on each other for support. She was more than just a companion; she was a part of him, a tether to his humanity in a world tainted by darkness.

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Sophie, on the other hand, lay in her bed like a celestial being, wrapped in the comforting cocoon of the covers. Her mind should have been at ease, ready to embrace the sweet embrace of slumber, but the night seemed intent on playing tricks on her. The events of the day had been extraordinary and emotionally taxing, and now her mind seemed to be betraying her by conjuring images of Tom Riddle, both the innocent boy she had glimpsed through the memories and the malevolent force he had become as Voldemort. The clash of these visions created a discordance that unsettled her to her core.

Yet, she couldn't shake the strange sensations that permeated her thoughts. Images of Tom, both in his younger form and as the embodiment of Lord Voldemort, replaced the thoughts of Severus that usually occupied her mind. It felt jarring, like a sudden awakening from a nightmare, and her eyes shot open, her breath catching in her throat. It felt as though a burst of cold air had washed over her, and there, at the foot of her bed, stood Voldemort himself, his sinister figure framed by the soft glow of moonlight. Panic welled up within her, and she clutched the sheets tightly, trying to discern if this was some haunting dream or a terrifying reality.

The room seemed to shrink, suffocating her in fear, as Voldemort's piercing gaze locked onto her own. His presence was suffused with malevolence and power, and yet, there was a glint of something familiar in his eyes, a connection to someone she held dear. Sophie's heart pounded in her chest, torn between the natural instinct to flee and the inexplicable sensation that this encounter held a deeper significance.

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Tom hadn't given much thought to the events of the day until a tug of memory reminded him that Sophie was there, in the room adjoining his. He alone had access to her at this time, during the hours when darkness truly held sway, unaided by evil.