open rp post #002

[albuquerque]

THE OPEN "WE WERE GOING TO RP THAT, REMEMBER?" POST

SO, BASICALLY. If we have ever discussed plotting a PSL or doing a thread but haven't gotten around to doing it,
WELL, NOW WE CAN.

Either comment with a rundown of said plot we'd talked about, or post a starting thread to said plot.

ALSO OPEN TO ANYONE WHO JUST WANTS TO THROW THEIR MUSE AT SNAPE (or Remus, if you'd prefer Remus).
Just leave either a prompt, a thread suggestion, or a thread starter.

Comments

[charmandchant]

SO MANY THINGS.

can you just leave me picture prompts and poke me to get my lily journal set up?

AND IF THESE PICTURES PROMPT ANYONE ELSE, FEEL FREE TO USE 'EM

[albuquerque]

OKAY because I'm a sucker for hipster subtitled screencaps:





























ALSO, POKE POKE LILY JOURNAL POKE POKE POKE

person #1

[charmandchant]

It was just a nightmare.

Somewhere, dimly, Hermione realized that. But in the moment, it felt so real, and she could hardly control her reactions in her sleep. She'd retreated to her actual room in Spinner's End for the night, the cat and mouse game with Snape having resumed with vengeance. It seemed like unless they were actually sleeping together, they were doomed to be on each other's last nerve.

She regretted that decision now; even sleeping in his bed, facing his cold shoulder, had kept the nightmares at bay. Now, she was assaulted with them. Each one embodied a fear she had - but this one was the worst. Or at least, it felt like the worst.

In her nightmare, Hermione was face to face with Severus Snape - except, it wasn't him. She could recognize that it wasn't him, the sneer on his face wasn't anything close to the sneers he'd worn at Hogwarts. She thought by now she knew each and every one of his expressions, but this one was too cruel to be imagined. Slowly, he raised a wand and pointed it at her, and a face that she knew emerged from the darkness. Voldemort, behind him, pulling puppet strings.

"It was a fun game, Granger, but you've outlived your uses," Snape-Voldemort drawled, the wand hardly wavering. Hermione found she couldn't speak, couldn't scream - she was fighting for air, something was choking her and there was nothing she could do. Her hands raised to her throat, she fought for breath, the image of Snape going black as she --

She screamed, finally, but the sound was unexpectedly loud - she was awake and screaming in her room, not in her dream, her blankets on the floor having kicked them away, her hands fisted in the sheets. Crookshanks was hissing from a corner, and all Hermione could do was mumble a muffled spell to light the candles and bury her head in ehr hands.

[albuquerque]

One minute, Severus is sound asleep, after what had felt like hours of struggling to get to sleep (for sleep wasn't something that came easily to him). The next, he jerks awake with a start at the sound of screaming piercing through the silence in his dark, dreary house.

He's disoriented at first as he frantically shoves himself up into a sitting position, the screaming reminding him of-- of things in his past. Horrible things.

Granger, he suddenly realises through the fog still distorting his thoughts. It's Granger screaming.

Throwing the blankets back, untangling himself from them, he snatches his wand off the nightstand as he staggers to his feet, takes a few hurried steps, stops to stoop down and snatch up his pyjama bottoms from the floor.

Granger, he thinks as he blindly steps one foot into a pyjama leg while making his way to the door. Granger, Granger, I'm coming, I'm coming. He hops on one foot while hurriedly stepping into the other pyjama leg, almost tripping over in the process. Tugging them up over his hips, he grabs the door handle and dashes out into the tiny landing, the wooden floor cold under his feet and the icy winter air hitting his bare arms and chest.

He bursts through the door to Granger's room (his old bedroom), wand at the ready, his hair sleep touselled and his tired, beady eyes wide with alarm.

"What? What is it?" he demands, sounding almost panicked. He takes in the scene: that hissing bastard of a cat in the corner, the candles alight and flickering soft but eerie shadows across the walls, the blankets in a heap on the floor, Granger huddled on the bed with her hands covering her face.

"What the bloody hell's going on?"

[phrenesis]

I'm not saying we should have Snape/Bella angst


but we should totally have Snape/Bella angst

[phrenesis]

or you know just Snape and Bella hating on each other forever

[albuquerque]

THROW PICTURE PROMPTS AT ME DO IT DO IT DOITDOITDOITDOIT

if any of these inspire anyone feel free to use them*

[phrenesis]

OKAY HAVE A FEW make of them what you will
some of these aren't even angsty ahaha but

[albuquerque]

feel free to pick from any of these if any prompt you c:

[didnotwant]

SO YEAH.

Snape and Marion should have another encounter. He should possibly discover that she's been hiding her werewolf status.

It would explain things to him. There should be yelling. :D

[albuquerque]

If you want to set something up, let's do it. :D

[didnotwant]

Excellent. Do we want the worst possible timing? Or him showing up the day after and noticing... oddities?

I love details.

[albuquerque]

The day after works for me! Maybe she contacted him for some reason and so he shows up - but shows up post-full moon.

Snape/Bella - for @phrenesis

[albuquerque]

It was barely dawn when Severus awoke. He wasn't entirely sure what had roused him from sleep - not that it truly mattered, as he was a light sleeper and tended to have broken sleep most nights on account of that alone - but when he turned lifted his head from the pillow to look over his shoulder, he saw Bellatrix sitting on the edge of the mattress, on the other side of the bed.

The room was just light enough for him to make out that she was naked, and her shoulders hunched. She almost - almost - looked strangely fragile; a stark contrast to the night before, the evidence of which was now dried on the sheets. The night before, Bellatrix had been all biting teeth and fingernails and panted, wanton gasps in between goading remarks while Severus had pinned her down to the bed by the throat. She'd been savage and insatiable, and he'd been merciless and felt more alive than he'd felt in as long as he could remember. If it weren't for the silencing charms cast on the room, the landlord of the inn above the small pub would have thrown them out onto the street for being so noisy and vulgar. Especially Bellatrix.

Against his better judgement, Severus rolled onto his back and reached a hand out, skimming his fingers down her bare back. He realised what he was doing and swiftly pulled his hand away again, tugging the sheet up securely over his own nakedness as he rolled back onto his side away from her.

"You should leave," he said, his voice low and scratchy with sleep.

yes perfect

[phrenesis]

The first rays of sunlight had barely begun creeping up through the little holes in the curtains and Bellatrix was already awake, her feet hanging over the edge of the bed, not quite reaching the floor, not fully - just the tips of her toes. She'd been prompted to wake up by her own dreams (or was it nightmares? She could hardly tell the difference sometimes, when even dreams of victory were contorted and jagged at imaginary edges, twisted in some way or another) and though she hadn't intended to go anywhere, still didn't intend to, it had been best to sit, clear her mind of any troubling thoughts. The other option meant inching closer to the man on the other side of the bed and naturally, she'd avoided the contact. She was no child, she needn't reach out for comfort or at least that was what she told herself. She was fortunate enough to have just sat down at the edge of the bed. Knowing her she could have just as likely walked halfway towards the door before dropping on the wooden floor, right in the middle of the room. This was the lesser of two evils, so to speak.

Her body ached, but that in itself wasn't what bothered her most. After all, Bellatrix was a fighter - a warrior - and she'd ache all over from the heat of battle many times before she'd succumb to the pain. The previous night had made her feel much like him, more alive than she could remember feeling in quite a while - perhaps when she'd first met their Lord, or when she got her Mark, but even then she'd submitted, as any loyal servant would, while this was different and, loathe though she may be to admit it, they'd been equals somehow. To some degree.

Severus' awakening seemed to go by unnoticed, misinterpreted as the gestures of someone who was having troubled sleep more than anything else, or at least until Bellatrix felt the tips of his fingers just brushing over the skin on her back, causing her to straighten up in surprise. Though she didn't look at him, she didn't move away, either; all she did was remain, sitting, until her shoulders relaxed and his voice registered in her brain. Her own voice was low - lower than usual -, even slightly raspy, when she finally managed a laugh (though there was nothing funny about it) and spoke in return,

"Where to? I've nowhere to be at this hour."

everyone is in bed and i have internet, so let's go

[albuquerque]

"Nowhere?"

It wasn't a question of clarity so much as a snidely punctuated remark that summed up in one word: See? You're just as lonely and pathetic as you like to claim me to be. Severus was too tired and in no mood to get into an argument with Bellatrix at this hour of day, though, and so he just let his snide, single-word response linger in the air.

He closed his eyes with the intent of attempting more sleep, but opened them again a few seconds later. He was awake now; he wasn't going to get back to sleep and he knew it, regardless how itchy and tired his eyes were. And just like Bellatrix, he had nowhere to go or be at this hour. He really was as lonely and pathetic as Bellatrix liked to claim him to be. About as lonely and pathetic as she was.

"You look like you're thinking of leaving." He paused, then quickly added, "Not that I care if you do."

short tag is short whups

[phrenesis]

She allowed the question to linger in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the memory of the previous night. Luckily for Bellatrix, she caught on to the snide intent of that simple word with no trouble whatsoever and luckily for Severus (and for them both, really) she was not quiet awake enough just yet to stir up a fight from that alone. Instead she chose to ignore him, sat still but for the moment she reached to scratch the skin of one of her shoulders and that was apparently enough for him to chime up again. All the better - it saved her the trouble of breaking the silence.

"I wouldn't take you for one to care," she laughed, again, still the same boring, unamused sound. But there was no bitterness to it, just a simple acknowledgement of some sort. They were both about as lonely and pathetic - though she could hardly bring herself to humour the thought - that it seemed easier to push one another away the moment their presence became disposable.

"If my presence bothers you as much then perhaps you should leave first."

UH there are probably errors. i am sorry.

[substandard]

At his mother's insistence, Draco returned to Hogwarts. It took a little over a year for the school to be rebuilt fully, and it was eerily beautiful, as Draco remembered seeing it when he was a young boy. His pale, misty eyes scanned the dining hall, and you'd have never known the war that tore the tables and the waiting dinnerware asunder. You never would have known all the death, and the chaos.

There was more tension than ever between rival houses Slytherin and Gryffindor; the way even some of the other houses spoke about the house with such sneering contempt made Draco's house name sound like a slur. And indeed, even within his own house, things were tense and awkward—Pansy was less vocal about her political views for fear of the consequences, especially given everything that had happened. They were all treated like villains, but not in the way like they were some sort of silly house of cartoon evil-doers—but as criminals, no matter what they said.

Truthfully, Draco supposed that it was fair, but that didn't mean he didn't hate it. He went through his studies decently enough, but in particular, Draco was almost as legend as Harry; the stares that stuck to him were scathing, and he was hollered passing threats. Draco flinched, sometimes, but hurried along and ignored things like this. The school knew, or had at least heard rumor, that Draco was ordered to kill Dumbledore. Even if he hadn't, it certainly didn't color his image well, especially with his behavior and talk all years previous to his sixth.

And perhaps most insufferable of all was probably the fact that Harry, Hermione and Ron were often catching his eyes as well—it was too uncomfortable to bear, and it made the bile in his throat rise up with contempt, as well as a heavy, sickly feeling that twisted viscuously in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling he didn't have the heart nor gumption to name, and so he normally took to bitterly scowling in some other direction. Indeed, Draco was getting a taste of it, and this was not lost on Harry. Mysteriously, the two boys had stopped antagonizing eachother altogether, which was sometimes commented on by members of their respective houses, or the peers of the other houses involved.

Of course, things as delicate as they were, post war, a lot of the talk got too personal much too fast—often sore from the remarks of his schoolmates, Draco would make his comebacks too slighting, whipping on fresh wounds. He rowed with Ron Weasley, in fact, during such an incident, earning himself a black eye and a swollen lip. Weasley, on the other hand, had been stunned—the two boys were separated, the both of them given an agonizing week of detention together.

And it was common for Hermione or Harry to pick him up after detention—Hermione, while sweet on Ron, was still much more academically minded than anything else and was working hard to make up for lost time. Harry, however, seemed to miss the company of his best mate in the evenings.

Again, Harry's eyes uncomfortably caught on Draco's as Harry prepared to leave with Ron. "Hold on a moment," Harry said to Ron, gesturing with a nod of his head towards Draco. "You go on. I've got a word for this one." Careful to mask his intent, Harry said this with a very mild snarl on his face. Ron eyed him dubiously, and just as dubiously acknowledged his words. Ron then turns to leave.

Harry waited a moment, watching his friend, and then he approached Draco. Draco was immediately defensive in his posture and his expression, and Harry, unbelievably, seemed to try to start leveling with him. As unconvinced as Ron was, Draco listened uncomfortably—his feelings regarding Harry were perhaps the muddiest of all—but when Harry seemed to finish what he had to say, his voice as low as possible, Draco's eyes had gone wide.

Staring unblinkingly to middle-distance, Draco turned his head to look at Harry. "You must be having a laugh at me, Potter," Draco said with disbelief.

Harry smiled, regarding Draco without a single thing more to say.

"Why would you tell me something like that, even if it were true?"

And, Harry merrily marched off in wake of his friend. Draco, however, stared stupidly at Harry's back as he went.

This wasn't the first time that Harry eluded to something suspicious. It was something about Snape. Since even before returning to Hogwarts, Draco had the strangest feeling that Snape simply hadn't died; it was a vague sort of itchiness at the back of his mind, a unpleasantness in his chest and stomach; some sort of ineffably strange, terrible feeling. The more he dwelled on it, the more Draco felt he might have been going mad, unsure as to why he was fixating so obsessively on Snape specifically.

"I'd heard you were frustrated," Harry had said back then, when Draco had finished detention with Ron. "seeing that you couldn't properly grieve or process his death. I wouldn't tell you otherwise, but—" Draco could hardly process Harry's explanation as he continued on, his mind racing just like his heart. What was he saying?

"—he's well."

Draco began collecting all information he could about it, but he raced for all of this in secret—Harry knew regretfully little about his actual alleged whereabouts, which made Draco feel insecure in the actuality of this story.

He pulled Harry aside, some months later, towards the end of the term, though they hadn't really spoken much through the entire year.

"I'm going. Deflect any questions regarding my absence."

"Of course," Harry said with an arrogant lipcurl. "Why would I care?"

"Yeah. That's right." Draco looked Harry up and down with a disdainful glowering, nodding his head once. "You bloody better well not be pulling my leg on this, Potter, or—and I mean this with sincerity—I will kill you."

"Heard that before."

"Shut up."

---

Draco had set himself somewhat poorly for his quest. Having been pampered comfortably his whole life, he was not really used to roughing it this way. He did at least do his homework, and he did pack mostly enough to get him by. He went by broomstick to make most of the traversing easy—and he had a map that he'd poured into and scrawled on to help his way, based on what he'd discovered. It was reckless, and it was stupid, but the force driving Draco was not one he can explain or stifle.

The path was appropriately confiding and elusive, even with his broom, and with lots of obstacles—even without magic tampering his way, the way is very arduous even naturally. Draco had to leave his broom, as the terrain became too demanding; he didn't want it broken, and it would hinder him. It was all the sort of wildness untouched by man, even wizards, of intimidating heaps of cliffs and confounding mist. Draco had to stun wildlife, howling in alarm when something found him. It had been almost five days of looking, and Draco's jaw and upper lip became covered with a fine, short and pale stuble that was mostly made visible by the sun.

But, a further pain in his ass, he thinks it's around the mountains—and traversing them has been no easy task. Through lots of stumbling of different sorts, Draco lost his broom to an aggressive river.

Cursing, but otherwise managing, Draco came to a clearing in the treacherous, dark forest. He knew it was close. He could feel it, more and more.

It was impossible to see anything, with all of the mist—there was the distant, eerie sounds of the predators and prey around the area. Draco's chest heaved, his fair skin scraped at its cheak, and his hood hung heavily over his head, obscuring his face. It was damned cold, and Draco was beaten out; just exhausted.

It was at this point, closer than ever, Draco had to wonder what the hell he was doing when he realized just what sort of shit he was in. His parents were going to have him hanged, and he wasn't even positive of his leads.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was right on top of it... Even if he had sense it was further up, Draco had to rest; his body, lungs and mind all ached terribly. He wasn't accustomed to this exertion.

His pale eyes looked for something, and he found nothing, but the clearing itself was too conspicuously serene and clean to go ignored.

[albuquerque]

Severus was crouching down in front of a Fluxweed plant, carefully pruning the leaves with short, precise flicks of his wand. Each stroke emitted a small snap of white light that sliced through the twigs like shears. He was in a small clearing of the forest, a spot that was open enough for sunlight to get through that Severus had been able to grow himself a small garden over the time that he'd been hiding out.

The sound of scuffling and of a twig snapping had Severus abruptly looking in the direction of the noise. He listened closely and at another scuffling sound, he pushed himself up with a sense of mild alarm. He'd become so accustomed to the sounds of the forests, and was by habit always hyperaware of his surroundings, that any sound out of the ordinary never failed to catch his attention. Switching his wand across to his other hand and holding it out at the ready, he began taking slow, cautious steps towards where he'd heard the sounds coming from. He was safe behind the shields he'd put up; his hut, his garden that he'd been growing and himself were invisible to anyone outside of the shield. Anyone who tried to cross his shields would end up disintegrating on the spot - not that anyone had ever wandered down this part of the forest, apart from Potter, and occasionally Granger and Weasley, and Potter always sent notice ahead of time that he was coming.

Stepping around a large bush, his eyes widened at the sight of a man standing not far from him on the other side of the shield. It took him a few seconds to realise that the man was none other than Draco Malfoy, which gave Severus even greater pause. He looked healthier than when Severus last saw him. The same couldn't quite be said for Severus, though: Severus had lost a great deal of weight; his cheek bones jutted out prominently and his body was gaunt and sallow. His clothes hung off him where they were once upon a time tight-fitting. His hair was long and came down past his shoulder blades. He was typically neat and presentable, but otherwise a shadow of his former self.

He stepped up quietly to the edge of the shield, still invisible to Draco's eyes, and watched Draco with wary fascination. He considered remaining hidden and not revealing his whereabouts to Draco at all. Isolation and an aching need to see another familiar face had him choosing to do otherwise. With a complex wave of his wand, he opened a portal within his shield. Another flick of his wand and he was hauling Draco through the opening in his shield with a pull of magic. The moment Draco was inside his shield, Severus released the hold on Draco and turned to his shield to seal it back up.

With a swish of his robes, he faced sharply back to Draco, wand pointed at the young man's face. "Mr. Malfoy," he greeted with carefully schooled calmness, though there was a look of nervousness in his black eyes. "Fancy seeing you here."

[substandard]

Draco hollered with alarm when he suddenly felt himself grasped by magic, or perhaps pushed, he couldn't really tell—and he stumbled once the trapping was released. As he straightened up with a stagger, his ashen eyes went wide at the tip of Snape's wand. He was a decent Occlumens, truly, but Draco was never consistently on guard with it, especially since the passing of the Dark Lord.

His heart raced, and part of him was angry that Snape would draw his wand on him. But having learned what he'd learned, Draco supposed that circumstantially, it's understandable; to Snape especially, their standing must have been murky and unclear. Draco wondered what Snape was thinking, staring into his dark eyes. He swallowed dryly, trying to steel himself; he resisted his initial urge to counter Snape and draw his own wand, but his body was shaking from the adrenaline the panic had delivered him, shaky as he was ever since the war. Draco feared Snape, for he was powerful; so much that he somehow survived Voldemort's killing blow. Draco, among the rest of the wizarding world, had only known one other successful in this right.

He nervously flexed his hands, steadying them somewhat of their shakiness, and stood with his legs somewhat apart in a more confidant stance.

"I could say the same to you," Draco said, and something inside of him twisted and sank; he blinked away a stinging in his eyes, though his lower eyelid rimmed with a subtle pinkness. "Unlike you, I'm no ghost, professor; I can assure you I'm more surprised than you are."

[albuquerque]

To say that Severus didn't know where Draco stood with him was an understatement. For all Severus knew, Draco could have found his way here to exact revenge of some ilk. For all Severus knew, Draco could have had plans to take the news of Severus' whereabouts to the Ministry. And so, he kept his wand trained on him even as Draco spoke.

Severus trained his thoughts on attempting to penetrate Draco's mind. All he was able to detect was a strong sense of anxiety and fear; he couldn't get any further past Draco's mental shielding. He took a moment to look Draco up and down, trying to reconcile the fact that Draco was actually standing right here before him. If anything, Severus was quietly relieved to see that Draco was alive and well.

The fear and nervousness he could detect from within Draco's mind was evidence enough for Severus that Draco didn't pose any real threat - he couldn't detect malice within those emotions, and so he lowered his wand several degrees. Not completely, but enough to demonstrate that he wasn't going to attack Draco. At least, not unless the young man gave him reason to.

"One thing that always failed you as an Occlumens is your inability to completely control your emotions," he finally said. "I can smell your fear. What are you doing here? You came alone, I hope."

[broomswept]

[albuquerque]

Severus had to pick his moment. He had to wait until Jane was on her own - a near impossible task - before he could make his move. He stealthily watched her from the Slytherin table at dinnertime, in between making idle conversation with Mulciber and Avery over a plate of roast meat and vegetables. And at last, when dinner was over, he discreetly watched her rise from the table and head out of the Great Hall, minus her friends.

Severus excused himself while the opportunity presented itself, explaining to his friends that he was going to library to study for a little while (he did this so frequently that nobody questioned it as he climbed off the bench) and he casually walked out of the Great Hall after Jane.

He cornered her in an empty corridor, grabbing her by the hair and hauling her into a small alcove. He pushed her up against the wall, pressing himself up against her back, and he gave her hair a sharp tug as he rested his chin on her shoulder with his lips by her ear.

"I hope you're not busy tonight, Potter."

[broomswept]

Jane, likewise, had actually been on her way to the library. She'd had a few books she'd needed to pick up for her Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment, because, y'know what? She actually did her homework and was damn good at it. She was vying for a position amongst Aurors after graduation, and nearly everyone knew it. Sirius was supposed to head down to the kitchens to procure butterbeers and eventually they were all going to meet in their usual locale for studying and harassing each other. That is to say, the boys' dorm.

So yes, suffice to say, she was supposed to be busy. But as Snape had her pressed up against the wall, her cheek flat against the concrete, his chin digging into her shoulder, she suddenly found all of her plans going out the window.

Oops.

"And if I am?" She hissed back, her voice low and dangerous.

[former_professor]

Got a starting point in mind for these two?