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lumos_maxima2013-09-22 07:38 am
albuquerque) wrote in lumos_maxima2013-09-22 07:38 am
open rp post #002
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.
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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."
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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."
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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."
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Draco's eyes fell for a moment, trying to think of exactly how to articulate himself, and he licked his dry upper lip, which was cracked on one side.
"Before I'd heard anything, I just—dreamt of something like this, kind of," he said finally, lifting his eyes to look at Snape. His body language was still kind of jittery and tense. "I thought maybe I was going mad, hoping you'd—somehow gone off somewhere, but it seemed impossible. All the same, no matter how much I told myself I was off about it, I couldn't convince myself I was wrong. So—I looked."
Draco deflated somewhat with a sigh, unsure of what else to say.
"And...here—" Draco swallowed hard, his breath shuddering as his head suddenly hung. "—here you are."
He felt overwhelmed.
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He studied Draco while the young man stood with his head hanging low, and Severus slowly lowered his wand to his side. "You came all the way out here just to find me? How awfully touching," Severus said, hiding his genuine, if not somewhat touched, curiosity with a tone of snide impatience.
He watched the boy for a moment longer before he turned on his heel. "This way, Draco," he said as he began leading the way towards the small hut he'd been staying in. It was a rundown, somewhat dilapidated place, mended here and there with magic, and tidied up inside to Severus' standards - those standards being precise and neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.
"Sit," he told Draco once they were both inside. He gestured to the small round table with two rickety-looking chairs standing either side of it. Severus pulled one of the chairs out and sat down while giving a flick of his wand over his shoulder towards the kitchenette. A tray, two cups and a teapot instantly floated into the air from the draining board, assembled themselves together and hovered across to the table. Severus wordlessly summoned water from his wand into the teapot, then tapped it, and steam suddenly blasted out from within the teapot from the instant boiling charm he'd heated the water with.
He charmed the teapot to begin pouring the tea. Setting his wand down, he laced his fingers together on the table while two cups of tea were poured for Draco and himself.
"So, you expect me to believe you went out of your way to go looking for me, simply based on a hunch? No other agenda in mind? I find that rather difficult to swallow, Mr. Malfoy. You've come here for only one of two reasons: answers, or to finish the job. Perhaps even both."
OOPS SORRY FOR MULTIPLE POSTS GOSH
He obediently followed his former professor, unsure where this was going, but his guard mounted increasingly; though it had been a couple of years since the war, Draco still greatly operates in the realm of fight-or-flight. It was easier, now, because it was safer, but sometimes even simple things put him on a sort of irritable, jittery edge.
Once inside, Draco again did as he was told, dropping himself on Snape's chair, glowering across the table at his object of irritation as petulant teenagers often do. He barely acknowledged the tea as it came together, having barely seemed to notice its initial assembly—though he did have a derisive little laugh about it to himself in his mind, how Snape at least had such modest comforts.
He supposed that Snape's skepticism is natural, given their history—and it was true that Draco had nothing else to offer by ways of his motivation. Something as vague as "a feeling" or "a calling" sounded like absolute rubbish, almost even to himself.
Were it not for the horrible agony it entailed, as he is a coward, Draco would have offered for Snape to just have a forceful look right into his damn mind to find his own convincing.
Draco tilted his head somewhat, retaining his mild scowl.
"If you really thought I was here to kill you, would you really be offering me tea?" Draco's eyes momentarily dipped to glance at the glossy, steaming surface of the tea, then back to Snape. "You no longer have any reason to be so polite with your enemies," Draco spat indignantly, "if that is indeed how you perceive me."
IT'S OK, BB <333
The teas poured, Severus unclasped his hands to reach for the cup nearest to him. He took up his wand with his other hand and conjured a small jug of milk onto the table. He didn't take milk in his tea, but perhaps Draco did. He gave his tea a quick stir, put the spoon down and took a careful sip.
"I'd be unsurprised if you still considered me to be your enemy, though after everything that's happened, this life I now have to live... I frankly can't bring myself to care. You're either here to finish the job or you're not."
He paused to take another sip. He pondered for a moment just how candid he ought to be with Draco, then decided it no longer really mattered. All was said and done. He was now a fugitive with nothing left to live for except survival itself. Severus no longer deemed it terribly necessary to be so clandestine about his thoughts and motives anymore.
"Is that a legacy you're still trying to uphold? Being a Death Eater to make your father proud? Or has Lucius finally learned to find pride in more dignifying things? How is your father, by the way?"
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"Well" meant that Lucius was staggering with his name, trying to cover his ass—again. Watching his family struggle with the shame was difficult, and it was also Draco's burden to share.
Snape's behavior wasn't a surprise; Snape had a special talent for finding one's sore spots, but it wasn't usually Draco subjected to this. Indeed, Draco normally got to have a laugh at Harry and his friends as Snape turned his dull-toned wit unto them.
But that was years ago. Draco didn't like the feeling that this fact evoked within him.
"Further," Draco began again, "there is no bloody being a Death Eater with the Dark Lord dead, is there? What's more—"
Draco's lip lifted, glancing at the corner of the table for a moment, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. His hands knotted anxiously, and he ignored the tea for now, chilly though he was.
"—I've got no interest in murder."
He couldn't say he'd made his father proud. Draco found Snape's eyes again, not wholly positive how to convince him.
"I am not here to finish any damn—job."
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"I know," Severus replied simply to Draco saying he had no interest in murder. "I always knew you weren't cut out to be a Death Eater. Even despite your father's desperate attempts to groom you in his image, I could always tell, even when you were a young boy, that it wasn't in you.
"Still. Doesn't mean someone hasn't put you up to it. The Dark Lord being dead and his reign fallen doesn't mean someone with an unhealthy appetite for power isn't thinking of keeping the Death Eater regime going."
Severus waved his hand at Draco's untouched tea. "Drink your tea. It'll warm you up."
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Draco picked up the cup, but didn't drink; he didn't know how weak Snape has become since fleeing (he looks a bit badly off), but surely he wouldn't resort to petty poison to off a haggard, tired teenaged boy. Draco knew he was being paranoid, but with the politics of everything, the trauma of the war wearing on him heavily, he couldn't help but be that way.
"Nothing like that has yet come to my attention; likely that if it's true, my mother would try to keep me out of it." Draco's father, however, was another story, which is why Draco fails to mention. "If anyone's put me up to this, it's Potter," he spat.
Then, Draco decided to sip his tea, but he continued glowering across the table at Snape.
"At first I thought that he was giving me the run-around, but I could feel it—I knew he wasn't."