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]

She glances back up at the doorframe, expecting him to have already left the room and gone back to sleep, and was pleasantly surprised when she found that Snape was still standing there, looking at her with a rather neutral expression on his face. Then he moved toward the bed and she shifted to allow him room, just as Crookshank hisses and abandons her to her fate, keeping watch from atop the dresser like her very own guardian furball.

Hermione fiddles with the end of the large shirt she slept in, her head bowed so that her hair is a curtain between them. Now that she's admitted one nightmare, it doesn't seem too horrible to admit more - she'd tried to tell herself again and again that what she had been through was a war and that no one could begrudge her for a few bad dreams. Considering how badly others had been left, however, she felt immeasurably guilty admitting any sort of lasting effects.

The fact of the matter remained that the war had changed her as much as it changed him, whether she would admit it or not.

"Yes. A few times a week," she murmurs, almost so quietly that it can't be heard. "Sometimes I'm back at Malfoy Manor, with Bellatrix. Other times, the battle of Hogwarts. Sometimes it's things that never happened, but could have."

More often, however, it was Bellatrix, leaning over her arm and slicing deep into skin, and Fenrir Greyback, foul breath in her face as she was pressed into the hard wood floor of the Malfoy's home. Almost protectively, she tucks one of her arms underneath the tangled sheet that had managed to survive her nightmare. She didn't use her glamours when she slept, no need, which meant every scar was on sick display.

"I haven't had any since ...," since we started sleeping in the same bed, since I came to this house, since I had something to occupy my time, she fumbled for words. "Since I began staying with you," Hermione settled on, avoiding his gaze.

[albuquerque]

The chilly air is making his skin break out in goosebumps down his arms and across his bare chest, which is not without its own scars; slashes and nicks that have faded into silvery scars crisscross here and there. An angrier looking scar, with frayed edges, streaks down his left shoulder blade. Old wounds from his Death Eater days, and even older wounds from his bleak and turbulent childhood.

The chill running through him is accompanies with a chill running down his spine at the thought of Bellatrix and the things he knew Bellatrix had done to her. Her craziness could have been ignored if she hadn't been so dangerous. That she'd tortured Granger fills him with disgust, even more so these days since he's come to strangely care so much about her, but that word Bellatrix had carved on Granger's arm is what sickens him the most.

At her seemingly hesitant remark about the nightmares being more under control since staying with him, he cuts his eyes across to her. He studies her profile, that familiar jut of her chin, the slender slope of her neck, the way her hair is falling down around her face. His right hand letting go of his wand, he hesitates, then stretches his arm across to her and brushes her hair back from her face with his fingers, over her shoulder.

He drops his hand away again, palm resting on the bed. "Dreams are harder to control than thoughts and emotions," he says, "but with enough practice, one can learn to control one's dreams. Or, at the very least, manage them. It does, however, take discipline. Perhaps I might be able to teach you."

[charmandchant]

If she notices his scars, she doesn't seem to be bothered by them - rather, it brings back memories of her fingers running over his skin, her lips pressing against the few she'd been able to find before they had rolled into bed together. She has a horrible double standard about scars; hers are disgusting, his give him character.

His touch garners her attention and she glances up at him, pulled out of her thoughts of immeasurable nights woken up shouting from bad dreams. Really, she ought to see someone - a healer, something; but that would be admitting a weakness and she'd always been the strong one, the one who could handle anything. Not to mention any move she took would be dutifully reported by the press; it was impossible to do anything quietly anymore, even if she smacked them with libel and slander suits.

"I can?!" She blurts out before she can stop herself, eyes widening before she flushes dark pink. "That is, control them. I hadn't thought that there was anything I could do; magic regarding dreams is so hit-or-miss, not to mention unstudied.."

There was a slight hint of the old Hermione Granger there, the one who would do anything to get her hands on a book, the insufferable know-it-all. Lifting her opposite hand, she presses it on top of his, trying to look less hopeful and more .. together. "I'd appreciate it. It might make my stay here a bit more tolerable for you, as well."

[albuquerque]

"It's more a case of... self-discipline rather than outright magic."

He watches her hand land atop his, and strokes his thumb lightly, briefly against the side of hers. Yes, insufferable know-it-all; he's quite familiar with that side of her. Not so insufferable right at this moment, though. He pulls his hand away.

Pushing himself up from the bed, he turns to look down at her. "It's too chilly to discuss this here."

He gives just a slight jerk of his head in the direction of his room, indicating that he's going back to his room and she's welcome to join him, then turns away to leave hers. He steps out into the cold landing, into his room, walks around his bed. Sitting on the edge, on the side that he always sleeps, he climbs his legs under the duvet as he pulls it up over him, still faintly warm with body heat. Propping an arm under his head, he cradles his head against it and stares up at the ceiling while waiting for Granger.

[charmandchant]

His thumb on hers makes her shiver in a way that had nothing to do with nightmares, though she swiftly buried those thoughts under a layer of kicking herself for even thinking about something like that in his presence. He'd made it more than clear what he thought.

"Chilly?" For a moment, she was offended, and then she realized she had goosebumps and her blankets were nearly on the other side of the room. Maybe he had a point. But once he left, she had to have another mental argument with herself about whether or not it was all right for her to follow. Would he have said something if he didn't mean me to? And I need to find out .. about the dreams, stopping them, she rationalized to herself, before glancing over at Crookshanks.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she murmured to the cat, who looked faintly smug, before abandoning her bed and heading across the hall, lingering in Snape's doorway. Hermione battled again with herself, lost, and then moved the rest of the way into the room, heading for her side the side opposite to the one he normally uses, and hesitating one final time before climbing in, sighing in relief as she found it slightly warm and .. Familiar.

"The dreams. Can you control them? Who taught you how? Will it make the stop?" Curiousity got the better of her, breaking a somewhat awkward silence to pepper him with more questions about the technique they'd been talking about -- no doubt as he intended.

[albuquerque]

Only his eyes cut across to her through the darkness of his room when he sees her silhouette appear in the doorway. He watches her, and waits. Either she'll come to him or she'll go back to her room. He tells himself he doesn't care either way.

As she approaches and climbs in beside him, his gaze is trained back on the ceiling again. The shift of the mattress and the soft rumpling sound of the blankets being pulled up over her is oddly comforting. Reminds him a little too uncomfortably of the last time both of them were in this bed and under the covers together, but he pushes that thought aside - easily done with the questions Granger begins curiously firing at him.

"Ever heard of lucid dreaming, Granger?" he asks instead of answering any of her questions.

[charmandchant]

She takes a moment to settle herself, burrowing deep underneath the sheet and turning on her side, propping up her head with a hand. After a moment, she tugs the blanket a bit higher over his shoulder, though she doesn't move further -she could still be kicked out of this room and the thought of facing her empty, chilly bedroom with the remnants of nightmares still floating about was not appealing.

"Only in theory; I did a bit of reading up on it, but it didn't seem possible for me so I discarded the idea," she admitted, sheepishly, never liking to be caught in the wrong about something - at least, if that was where he was going with this. "Isn't it a dream that you realize you're having? Some Muggles have reported being able to control their dream, too; but I couldn't .. If I told anyone.."

It wasn't possible, due to her knowledge of the Wizarding World, for her to visit a muggle shrink or put herself at any sort of vulnerability where she might talk about their world. It would be an absolute fiasco; she could see the headlines now -- "War Hero Betrays Entire Wizarding World!" Bad enough that they insisted on calling her a 'hero'.

"Can you do it? Is it possible? Did someone teach you?"