Post by Severus Snape on Aug 12, 2009 16:39:13 GMT -8
it's time to show you what i'm all about,
Severus Snape
~~~
Severus Snape
~~~
get up, let's see what you're made of
the basics
the basics
Character Name: Severus Snape
Alias: Half-Blood Prince
Birthday: January 9, 1959
Age: 36
Orientation: Straight
House: Slytherin
Patronus: Doe
Wand: 11" ebony dragon heartstring
Teacher: Potions, DADA
Play by: Alan Rickman
bring it on; you know i'm not afraid
the secrets
the secrets
Likes:
-quiet children
-students who listen to instruction
-Slytherin Hous
-DADA
-Potions
-Quiet atmosphere
-Reading
-Books
Dislikes:
-unruly students
-Loud obnoxious students
-Being called a coward
-Harry
-Hermione
-Ron
-Gryffindor House, he dislikes the others, but thsi House moreso
-Loud and incessant noise like the Great Hall during breakfast etc...
Strengths:
-Ability to use wordless incantations or say spells/hexes silently
-Legilimens
-Occlumency
-Flying without a broom
-Wit
-Potions
-Dark Arts
Weaknesses:
-Anger
-Quick to judge/jump the gun
-Unwilling to trust people
-Too stubborn for his own good
Boggart: The death of Harry (Too lazy to explain AGAIN.)
Amorentia:
-smoke
-burning wood
-Potions
-Vanilla
Hair:
slightly wavey, shoulder length and glossy or 'greasy'
Eyes:
Almond shape, sure. Obsidian though no one has ever gotten close enough (as in inches away from his face) to see that the are in fact, a dark deep brown
Appearence:
Wears all black of course. Black square-toed boots with black slacks, his Potion Master's jacket and a white long sleeved button up shirt underneath that and over all this he is often seen in his cloak.
I say he's pretty confident, perhaps a bit too confident though not without reason, he's both strong in body and mind and would make for a very frightening enemy. I'll throw this in there hile I'm at it:
Snape's generally a detached person, quite aloof most of the time. On one hand he can be cold and menacing, yet at other times he has complete control over his emotions and can be somewhat kind. The only soft spot he has for anyone is Lilly. Snape also has a rather nasty temper and is quick to wrath. When speaking he is snappish and exacting, he purrs and whispers and uses sarcasm. His voice is often low, dark and when he gets mad he gets very quite and he does hiss when he speaks. Rarely does he ever yell, only when he has lost all control does he shriek in rage and foam. His anger follows a pattern I suppose; most times he snaps, then his voice gets lower, he might hiss then he whispers. When he looses his temper the best thing to do is to get out of his way. He is a very moody man and prone to many fits of temper. And just because he is not seen smiling often does not mean he is Spock; an emotionless being. In fact he enjoys a good laugh and joke, and does smile, and on some rare occasion he does cry.
Body:
Thin, lither build
never give up when the going gets rough
the history
the history
Mother: Eileen
Father: Tobias
Siblings: None
Others: None
Background:
Severus Snape grew up in a small house located on Spinner’s End. He was a half-blood or ‘mudblood’ and was poor. His mother was a witch and his father a muggle. On occasion the boy would be subjected to beatings by his father and even witnessed the ravaging of his mother. It was safe to say this boy lived in a broken home and often sought the comfort of the outside world. One day he chanced upon a girl; Lily Evans and soon to his delight found that she too was like him; a wizard (or in her case a witch). After weeks of quietly watching from afar or even in concealed places (like bushes or corners) Severus finally revealed himself to Lily Evans one day in the playground. He was hiding in a bush. Much to his despair his long planned meeting didn’t go too well and Lily (her sister too) ran off away from him.
After some time the two got along and eventually became friends. Severus Snape informed the girl of Hogwarts and told that her gifts weren’t so strange there and that people there could do them too. Eagerly after getting their letters they awaited the train to this magical place, Lily’s sister Petunia, however, in her moment of great stress for being left behind –she previously begged Dumbledor to allow her admittance- pinned nasty hate-filled names to her sister before the two boarded the train.
Much to Snape’s dismay, Miss Evans was sorted into Gryffindor and him into Slytherin though this didn’t sever the ties of friendship between them for they spoke to each other often either in the halls or in class. The greasy haired young man soon made enemies there, one of them being the Potter child, James. He and his friend Sirius Black seized every opportunity to take a stab at the boy and tease and bully him. Oh how Severus hated them and anyone associated them. Consequently this meant Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin too. Lily Evans was always there though; standing up for him, defending him, much to his delight she hated Potter too. But his time in Hogwarts wasn’t all bad, he had Lily, but he also made a few friends, Avery and Mulciber being two of them, they too were in the Slytherin House so no rivalry there. But at this time the boy began to dabble into dangerous territory and he found himself fixed on the love of Potion making and Dark Arts, not just the class itself, but the magic and the power behind it. He was absolutely fascinated by it, obsessed even. Through the years he learned of Voldemort and his group called ‘Death Eaters’. Lily voiced her concern about such things but he payed no mind to her warnings or worries.
The Slytherin child grew affections for the young woman and sought after hers and with Potter’s love rejected he thought her his. Though one day seemed to change the course of that. After one event, everything went downhill it seemed. Potter and his followers were up to their usual antics of petty torture and name calling. And as usual Lily Evans came to the rescue. Stressed by the loss of his dignity and pride, Severus called her a ‘filthy mudblood.’
Nights after that the poor Slytherin slept at the Gryffindor entry-way and begged Lily for forgiveness, though she rejected all his pleas. Disheartened, the man withdrew into himself, becoming bitter, cold, and unforgiving. He eventually was inducted into You-Know-Who’s circle of Death Eaters after he pledged his allegiance.
Another tragic event came into the man’s life, when he received word of the prophecy being fulfilled and that Lily was going to die (along with her child and James) he pleaded his Master for her reprieve and when that didn’t work he went to Albus Dumbledor and asked of him to protect her. When she was killed by Voldemort’s own hand he went to Albus once more and there he switched sides.
Now, some years, the alleged Ex Death Eater was to work as a triple-agent for his Albus in Hogwarts as a Potions Master (after his application for Dark Arts teacher was turned down) all the while continuing his role as Death Eater. And with the arrival of Lily’s son, The-Boy-Who-Lived, he finds himself in conflict. He hates the boy for his uncanny resemblence of his father, but feels an attachment to him because he was the son of the one who stole his heart -and eventually broke it-.
-was lazy towards the end-
i'll show you there's nothing that i can't do
behind the scenes
behind the scenes
Player: Severus or Sev
Age: 16
Contact: here
Anything Else: No
RP Sample:
This is a neo-friendly peice. Disregard all odd misspellings.
A mild 'tink' sound could be heard as the butt of a cane met the paved sidewalk; the moon had stretched out her slender fingers to touch the world below and in doing so she allowed the silver walking stick to reflect her light. Hazel green eyes peered from under a black fedora, their color seemed faded. A young man scanned the area around him casually as he made his way towards the cemetery. The moon also shed her light upon him and illuminated his small lithe figure. His suite spoke of the nineteen twenties or even perhaps the thirties; His waist coat and dress pants were subtly adorned with slender thread-like white pin stripes. Under his vest he wore a long sleeved button up dress shirt with the color which resembled blood. Irony perhaps? Another one of fate's tantalizing jokes; how fitting it was that his favorite color was red. His stripped tie harmonized with his suite and with the fedora which adorned his chocolate brown haired head, it was safe to say that he pulled of this look. It was rather odd to see in such times, but it was also pleasing to the eye.
His name was Christopher Saint; he was the type of gentleman whom was always kind and courteous, but due to his 'illness' he locked himself away most of the time; he was a recluse as some would call it. After being sired, he saw fit to become a clandestine figure that only dwelled amongst the shadows. Christopher had sifted through time this way, standing on the sidelines and watched the world go by. Over the years his family and friends grew old then died. In turn their children had grown old, and then died. The cycle of life and death played over and over like a broken record. But not for this man, for this was no ordinary man, he was the creature of the night, a child of darkness whom possessed immortality. Fates' cruel joke. It was as if time stopped for this man and this man alone, and this made it hard for him to adept to his new life, this life had caused him pain that was thought to be unendurable; something that caused him to mourn over this curse. He had to sit and watch in silence as life continued on and eventual end for the one's he held dear.
But this didn't stop him from abandoning them. Christopher Saint kept up with his friends and family's lineage and every once in a while he would visit them, unable to reveal himself he lurked in some unseen place, observing, protecting. Chris would impede burglaries, and whisk away the abusive lovers that stormed into their lives, and ward off any vampires whom wished to prey upon them. Unbeknownst to the ones he swore to protect, he had placed a mark on them which went undetected to the human eye. This indication told the Blood Hunters whom they belonged and if any of them were injured or influenced in any way, there would be he;; to pay.
Before long the young man reached the cemetery gates. His eyes studied the structure which greeted him behind the open gate. A large monumental statue sat in the middle of the cobblestone (which forked off left and right) the marble depiction of Jesus stood holding out his arms, it was as if he were waiting to embrace the dearly departed who would come here to be laid to rest. Many times had Christopher seen this statue, and still he had looked upon it with silent and reverent awe and wonder, what would it be like to die? This question cropped up whenever he came here, give or take variety of ways one could reiterate the sentence.
Taking the left path he noted the simple fact that no one was here, no humans, no vampires, not a soul. Not that either bothered him, humans were no problem, and vampires could be handled. But the undead weren't something he worried about. Christopher Saint was twenty-five hundred years old and he had yet to run across someone whom was even remotely around his age, never mind being older. See, with age brought power, and in Vampire terms, age was everything. He had seen plagues wipe out entire civilizations, he had experienced wars and famine, he'd been to the new world when it was new, he had lived in Roanoke, he had been in the middle of the Salem Witch Trials. He had watched America come into existence and grow, he had witnessed everything. He was wise way beyond his years, perhaps the wisest, perhaps too wise.
Christopher's gate was slow and deliberate, yet smooth and silent like that of a feline. He came to a large headstone that was in the form of cross; complements of the Catholic Church that was somewhere up the road. The headstone had the name of a family member; the death of this person was over thirty years ago. He didn't really know him, but he felt he had a sense of duty to pay his respects, but not just to him, other family members and friends had been laid to rest here. And he intended on paying his respects to all of them. With his free hand he made the sign of the cross in the way the Catholics do. He didn't bother praying, for he was a danned(purposely spelled wrong) soul and he thought it kweer(purposely spelled wrong) to pray with that his hand came up and he touched the headstone delicately before he let his hand drop to his side.
The young man now moved to another headstone, his free hand once again tracing the sign of the cross in the practice he was taught as a young child. Again, here was where a string of words would come forth to be harmonized in a prayer of sorts but as he viewed it, this action was useless because he was danned.(Again, purposely spelled wrong) Why would God hear him, hear this filthy, sin-ridden creature? He was a mistake, or perhaps he was a part of some cruel and sick joke? It didn't matter, all he knew was that he was to be forever shunned by the Lord and that prayer was now nothing more than a simple and kind gesture; prayer was meaningless for it would fall on deaf ears. He almost felt as sinful and dirty as Lucifer himself. Maybe this was linked to the reasons why he separated himself from the other immortals; perhaps that's why he refused to run about with the other fiends. These ideas and opinions are what kept him going and kept him motivated, they kept him appearing more human. Whatever his nature was he strived every day to come close to human as he possibly could.
Almost human
If it weren't for this Christopher wouldn't have much incentive to live. But what about the ones he swore to protect? That tied into his desire to be human. All children of the night went through this; they each tried to hold onto whatever piece of humanity they had left for without it there was nothing left for them to live for. This occurred most in the young ones; the fledglings. Chris had witnessed it time and time again; the young ones would thrust themselves into the sun in a frenzy of sorrow and despair because they had lost what they had so desperately tried to keep.
The young vampires never lasted long; most would perish within the first decade of their new lives whether by their own hand or someone else's. It was a sad thing really and Christopher Saint felt for them, but he didn't empathize with them and he hoped he never would for that would mean the end for him too.
I'll throw this in there for good measure. Marauder's Era Snape:
Oh boy, another year at Hogwarts. The lanky greasy haired lad was torn between being enthused and depressed, he rather enjoyed the art and skill of potion-making and studying about other such things, but the… others whether they be of his own house or another seemed to enjoy picking on him, it wasn’t so much the student body that bothered him it was just that Potter, that impudent, pompous, obtuse imbecile, he didn’t even loathe him as much as Sirius. Potter thinks he’s all that as he struts about the castle with his love-smitten fans following close behind like a dog after his master. Just because he has a bit of talent at the Quidditch games Potter thinks he owns everything and everyone, he thinks he’s smarter and better than everyone else, he was tired of it. The thought of this began to anger Severus. The tall ashen young man wondered what sort of things James had planned on for him this year, oh how he loved his petty torments. One day, Severus thought, one day he’ll get what he deserves, he’ll get what’s coming to him, he would just have to be patient and hope that he’s the one that gave it to James.
The thought of this stupid insolent boy made him angry and so he focused his mind on something else. Severus Snape was one his way out to the courtyard for a small break from the confines of the castle and its stale atmosphere, in his hand was his potions book; this was something he read through often. The binding was creased with use and pages were dog-eared and even stained, the cover was even wrinkled with creases and soiled with the oil from his fingers or dirt. The slender Slytherin weaved though people while glancing through his book in search of a particular page. One thing Sev noticed were the halls and the sea of people moving about in them, it was too crowded, the young man despised crowds for wherever there were crowds, there was loud incessant noise, and more often than not, Potter was the source of said racket. It didn’t take long for his presence to be noted and with this came the lame attempts at bullying. One young man proceeded to nearly knock him over as he was passing by as if he didn’t notice him occupying the space in which he walked, but with a wall being there Severus was knocked into that instead and the book fell to the floor. Severus’ lips curled into a snarl, his teeth showed. Unsuccessfully he bent down to pick up his book several time, but it was either kicked further away or he was jostled rudely by a student which caused him reeling back. This was getting to be ridiculous! These people were damn near impossible, not to mention “A bunch of inconsiderate, uncivilized children!” Snape barked suddenly in a fit of rage, he couldn’t seem to contain that thought any longer and simply finished it aloud. Quietly Severus cursed to himself and to his annoyance his foot had been stepped on; he had to get out of this mad house. Finally he laid his long slender pasty fingers on his potions book and pulled back. Finally he laid his long slender pasty fingers on his potions book and pulled back sharply to avoid getting his fingers crushed; and as he pulled back he saw a glimpse of someone in the hall who was now walking by with an armful of books and supplies.
Lily Evans.
Time seemed to stop for Severus as he looked upon the red haired beauty. “Lily.” He caught himself saying ever so softly. It was as if she held some powerful magic within her that only worked on him, like an antidote because at the mere sight of her Snape felt all of his troubles and worries flee from in within an instant only to be placed with a sense of contentment and carefree bliss. He loved the way she walked, the way she talked, her soft and gentle voice, her daring nature, hey hair, eyes, everything. To him she was perfect. But soon his bliss escaped him for his green eyed beloved disappeared down the hall and around the corner. All his tension and worries then came back so suddenly he almost gasped with alarm. Severus then proceeded to not that he was still crouched on the floor and in a daze picked himself up. How he could ever feel for someone so much he wouldn’t ever know. The boy shook his head as if to rid himself of this daze and continued his trek down to the courtyard.
Upon opening the door, the sun immediately cast its golden rays down upon his sallow form and Snape brought his hand up to shield his squinting eyes.
Continuing his slow pace, his black eyes scanned the area. Where to sit, where to sit? He would be sitting by himself while he spent this time outside for no one wanted to be in the company of this sickly looking kid and he was convinced that he didn’t want them to, they were probably just as air headed as Potter and Sirius anyways he thought.
Soon enough the seventh year Slytherin found a spot by a tree and made his way over there.
“Hey Snivillus!” called someone from behind, the voice was unfamiliar and Snape turned to look. Dark eyes stared upon a boy and his two friends and from the looks of it they were a part of Potter’s fanclub for he was the one that came up with such an idiotic name. But as the lanky kid turned around, one of them cast a spell which caused his book to fly from his hand. He watched it land on the ground off to the side some yards away. He getting tired of picking that damn thing up. Severus was quite annoyed by this but made no move to retaliate or pick up his book.
”Cat got your tongue you putrid hack?”
“No, put one has yours.” He added coolly. And at this moment Severus quickly pulled out his wand and in one fluid movement pointed it at the other and called out a spell that e himself created. It was designed to stick the victim’s tongue to the roof of their mouth rendering them unable to speak. Horrified, the boy looked to the others for help while making all sorts of odd noises and grunts. A faint smirk graced Severus’ lips for this acted as a small victory for him.
“Idiots.” He scoffed before turning to pick up his book. Just then he felt himself he projected foreward by an unseen force. One of the other lads’s cast a spell that caused him to trip. Snape caught himself with his hands but once he was down, the others attacked him like a pack of dogs to a weakened injured animal. The two boys practically flung themselves onto the gaunt figure and managed to throw in a few blows and crude name calling to the fallen boy before dashing off in a hurry with the other.
For a long moment Severus lay on the ground in bewilderment. Things happened so fast he wasn’t sure what happened. One of the boys kicked Severus in the back just below his right should blade and the young man was led to believe he was hit in the head for now he had a massive headache. His visage was twisted into a grimace at the waves of pain that rolled in. His anger swelled. He could’ve prevented that, he should’ve just blown them both sky high but he didn’t and he wasn’t sure why. Slowly, the crumpled figure rose to his feet and straightened his posture, dark cold eyes looked around at the faces who were watching him, some astonished, others smirking or giggling. This spiked more anger and loathing not only to those boys but to everyone else, everyone who was watching and laughing, and everyone who didn’t stop to help or even ask if he was alright. It was times like this that made him realize he was alone… well there was Lily. The thought of her repressed some of the negative feelings a tad. She cared, she was the only one that looked past his appearance and odd quirks and behaviors, and she was the only one that seemed to understand.
Severus Snape walked to his book and picked it up, his bony fingers gently swept the dirt and grit from the cover with feathery-light touches; the sort of gentleness he showed only towards Lily and his work of course. Not far off he spotted his wand, in the sudden frenzy he had recalled it being tossed from his hand. He walked over to it and tucked it safely away after picking it up and walked to the spot he had picked out for himself. Sitting down he was reminded of the blow to his back as the pain spiked. Already that place was become tender with bruising, but nothing he couldn’t fix. Quietly he worked his magic to fix the aches and pains that he felt. All too often he had to do things like this and he couldn’t help but feel tired. He was sick of this, sick of it all. Why couldn’t he just fit in? He then began to find excuses and found blaming his parents a logical and acceptable one. It was their fault, especially his fathers. A sense of great hatred rose within him at the thought of this man and all the terrible things he’d done. Snape had flickers of images running through his head then; his father beating his mother, then him for seemingly no reason at all. No, now was not the time to think of such things, actually now that he thought of it, never was the time to think of such things. He had made it a point to forget about his home life, forget everything except Lily Evans and the good memories of their time together. Successfully Severus had compartmentalized such thoughts and memories and simply now swept them under the rug so to speak.
The Slytherin then reminded himself why he was here, he was here to enjoy himself and read not dwell over the past. A small sigh escaped his lips and he picked up his book that he had previously sat beside him and began flipping through it, began slipping into his world of comfort, began getting lost within the world he so frequently dreamed about.
I hope this is okay...
A mild 'tink' sound could be heard as the butt of a cane met the paved sidewalk; the moon had stretched out her slender fingers to touch the world below and in doing so she allowed the silver walking stick to reflect her light. Hazel green eyes peered from under a black fedora, their color seemed faded. A young man scanned the area around him casually as he made his way towards the cemetery. The moon also shed her light upon him and illuminated his small lithe figure. His suite spoke of the nineteen twenties or even perhaps the thirties; His waist coat and dress pants were subtly adorned with slender thread-like white pin stripes. Under his vest he wore a long sleeved button up dress shirt with the color which resembled blood. Irony perhaps? Another one of fate's tantalizing jokes; how fitting it was that his favorite color was red. His stripped tie harmonized with his suite and with the fedora which adorned his chocolate brown haired head, it was safe to say that he pulled of this look. It was rather odd to see in such times, but it was also pleasing to the eye.
His name was Christopher Saint; he was the type of gentleman whom was always kind and courteous, but due to his 'illness' he locked himself away most of the time; he was a recluse as some would call it. After being sired, he saw fit to become a clandestine figure that only dwelled amongst the shadows. Christopher had sifted through time this way, standing on the sidelines and watched the world go by. Over the years his family and friends grew old then died. In turn their children had grown old, and then died. The cycle of life and death played over and over like a broken record. But not for this man, for this was no ordinary man, he was the creature of the night, a child of darkness whom possessed immortality. Fates' cruel joke. It was as if time stopped for this man and this man alone, and this made it hard for him to adept to his new life, this life had caused him pain that was thought to be unendurable; something that caused him to mourn over this curse. He had to sit and watch in silence as life continued on and eventual end for the one's he held dear.
But this didn't stop him from abandoning them. Christopher Saint kept up with his friends and family's lineage and every once in a while he would visit them, unable to reveal himself he lurked in some unseen place, observing, protecting. Chris would impede burglaries, and whisk away the abusive lovers that stormed into their lives, and ward off any vampires whom wished to prey upon them. Unbeknownst to the ones he swore to protect, he had placed a mark on them which went undetected to the human eye. This indication told the Blood Hunters whom they belonged and if any of them were injured or influenced in any way, there would be he;; to pay.
Before long the young man reached the cemetery gates. His eyes studied the structure which greeted him behind the open gate. A large monumental statue sat in the middle of the cobblestone (which forked off left and right) the marble depiction of Jesus stood holding out his arms, it was as if he were waiting to embrace the dearly departed who would come here to be laid to rest. Many times had Christopher seen this statue, and still he had looked upon it with silent and reverent awe and wonder, what would it be like to die? This question cropped up whenever he came here, give or take variety of ways one could reiterate the sentence.
Taking the left path he noted the simple fact that no one was here, no humans, no vampires, not a soul. Not that either bothered him, humans were no problem, and vampires could be handled. But the undead weren't something he worried about. Christopher Saint was twenty-five hundred years old and he had yet to run across someone whom was even remotely around his age, never mind being older. See, with age brought power, and in Vampire terms, age was everything. He had seen plagues wipe out entire civilizations, he had experienced wars and famine, he'd been to the new world when it was new, he had lived in Roanoke, he had been in the middle of the Salem Witch Trials. He had watched America come into existence and grow, he had witnessed everything. He was wise way beyond his years, perhaps the wisest, perhaps too wise.
Christopher's gate was slow and deliberate, yet smooth and silent like that of a feline. He came to a large headstone that was in the form of cross; complements of the Catholic Church that was somewhere up the road. The headstone had the name of a family member; the death of this person was over thirty years ago. He didn't really know him, but he felt he had a sense of duty to pay his respects, but not just to him, other family members and friends had been laid to rest here. And he intended on paying his respects to all of them. With his free hand he made the sign of the cross in the way the Catholics do. He didn't bother praying, for he was a danned(purposely spelled wrong) soul and he thought it kweer(purposely spelled wrong) to pray with that his hand came up and he touched the headstone delicately before he let his hand drop to his side.
The young man now moved to another headstone, his free hand once again tracing the sign of the cross in the practice he was taught as a young child. Again, here was where a string of words would come forth to be harmonized in a prayer of sorts but as he viewed it, this action was useless because he was danned.(Again, purposely spelled wrong) Why would God hear him, hear this filthy, sin-ridden creature? He was a mistake, or perhaps he was a part of some cruel and sick joke? It didn't matter, all he knew was that he was to be forever shunned by the Lord and that prayer was now nothing more than a simple and kind gesture; prayer was meaningless for it would fall on deaf ears. He almost felt as sinful and dirty as Lucifer himself. Maybe this was linked to the reasons why he separated himself from the other immortals; perhaps that's why he refused to run about with the other fiends. These ideas and opinions are what kept him going and kept him motivated, they kept him appearing more human. Whatever his nature was he strived every day to come close to human as he possibly could.
Almost human
If it weren't for this Christopher wouldn't have much incentive to live. But what about the ones he swore to protect? That tied into his desire to be human. All children of the night went through this; they each tried to hold onto whatever piece of humanity they had left for without it there was nothing left for them to live for. This occurred most in the young ones; the fledglings. Chris had witnessed it time and time again; the young ones would thrust themselves into the sun in a frenzy of sorrow and despair because they had lost what they had so desperately tried to keep.
The young vampires never lasted long; most would perish within the first decade of their new lives whether by their own hand or someone else's. It was a sad thing really and Christopher Saint felt for them, but he didn't empathize with them and he hoped he never would for that would mean the end for him too.
I'll throw this in there for good measure. Marauder's Era Snape:
Oh boy, another year at Hogwarts. The lanky greasy haired lad was torn between being enthused and depressed, he rather enjoyed the art and skill of potion-making and studying about other such things, but the… others whether they be of his own house or another seemed to enjoy picking on him, it wasn’t so much the student body that bothered him it was just that Potter, that impudent, pompous, obtuse imbecile, he didn’t even loathe him as much as Sirius. Potter thinks he’s all that as he struts about the castle with his love-smitten fans following close behind like a dog after his master. Just because he has a bit of talent at the Quidditch games Potter thinks he owns everything and everyone, he thinks he’s smarter and better than everyone else, he was tired of it. The thought of this began to anger Severus. The tall ashen young man wondered what sort of things James had planned on for him this year, oh how he loved his petty torments. One day, Severus thought, one day he’ll get what he deserves, he’ll get what’s coming to him, he would just have to be patient and hope that he’s the one that gave it to James.
The thought of this stupid insolent boy made him angry and so he focused his mind on something else. Severus Snape was one his way out to the courtyard for a small break from the confines of the castle and its stale atmosphere, in his hand was his potions book; this was something he read through often. The binding was creased with use and pages were dog-eared and even stained, the cover was even wrinkled with creases and soiled with the oil from his fingers or dirt. The slender Slytherin weaved though people while glancing through his book in search of a particular page. One thing Sev noticed were the halls and the sea of people moving about in them, it was too crowded, the young man despised crowds for wherever there were crowds, there was loud incessant noise, and more often than not, Potter was the source of said racket. It didn’t take long for his presence to be noted and with this came the lame attempts at bullying. One young man proceeded to nearly knock him over as he was passing by as if he didn’t notice him occupying the space in which he walked, but with a wall being there Severus was knocked into that instead and the book fell to the floor. Severus’ lips curled into a snarl, his teeth showed. Unsuccessfully he bent down to pick up his book several time, but it was either kicked further away or he was jostled rudely by a student which caused him reeling back. This was getting to be ridiculous! These people were damn near impossible, not to mention “A bunch of inconsiderate, uncivilized children!” Snape barked suddenly in a fit of rage, he couldn’t seem to contain that thought any longer and simply finished it aloud. Quietly Severus cursed to himself and to his annoyance his foot had been stepped on; he had to get out of this mad house. Finally he laid his long slender pasty fingers on his potions book and pulled back. Finally he laid his long slender pasty fingers on his potions book and pulled back sharply to avoid getting his fingers crushed; and as he pulled back he saw a glimpse of someone in the hall who was now walking by with an armful of books and supplies.
Lily Evans.
Time seemed to stop for Severus as he looked upon the red haired beauty. “Lily.” He caught himself saying ever so softly. It was as if she held some powerful magic within her that only worked on him, like an antidote because at the mere sight of her Snape felt all of his troubles and worries flee from in within an instant only to be placed with a sense of contentment and carefree bliss. He loved the way she walked, the way she talked, her soft and gentle voice, her daring nature, hey hair, eyes, everything. To him she was perfect. But soon his bliss escaped him for his green eyed beloved disappeared down the hall and around the corner. All his tension and worries then came back so suddenly he almost gasped with alarm. Severus then proceeded to not that he was still crouched on the floor and in a daze picked himself up. How he could ever feel for someone so much he wouldn’t ever know. The boy shook his head as if to rid himself of this daze and continued his trek down to the courtyard.
Upon opening the door, the sun immediately cast its golden rays down upon his sallow form and Snape brought his hand up to shield his squinting eyes.
Continuing his slow pace, his black eyes scanned the area. Where to sit, where to sit? He would be sitting by himself while he spent this time outside for no one wanted to be in the company of this sickly looking kid and he was convinced that he didn’t want them to, they were probably just as air headed as Potter and Sirius anyways he thought.
Soon enough the seventh year Slytherin found a spot by a tree and made his way over there.
“Hey Snivillus!” called someone from behind, the voice was unfamiliar and Snape turned to look. Dark eyes stared upon a boy and his two friends and from the looks of it they were a part of Potter’s fanclub for he was the one that came up with such an idiotic name. But as the lanky kid turned around, one of them cast a spell which caused his book to fly from his hand. He watched it land on the ground off to the side some yards away. He getting tired of picking that damn thing up. Severus was quite annoyed by this but made no move to retaliate or pick up his book.
”Cat got your tongue you putrid hack?”
“No, put one has yours.” He added coolly. And at this moment Severus quickly pulled out his wand and in one fluid movement pointed it at the other and called out a spell that e himself created. It was designed to stick the victim’s tongue to the roof of their mouth rendering them unable to speak. Horrified, the boy looked to the others for help while making all sorts of odd noises and grunts. A faint smirk graced Severus’ lips for this acted as a small victory for him.
“Idiots.” He scoffed before turning to pick up his book. Just then he felt himself he projected foreward by an unseen force. One of the other lads’s cast a spell that caused him to trip. Snape caught himself with his hands but once he was down, the others attacked him like a pack of dogs to a weakened injured animal. The two boys practically flung themselves onto the gaunt figure and managed to throw in a few blows and crude name calling to the fallen boy before dashing off in a hurry with the other.
For a long moment Severus lay on the ground in bewilderment. Things happened so fast he wasn’t sure what happened. One of the boys kicked Severus in the back just below his right should blade and the young man was led to believe he was hit in the head for now he had a massive headache. His visage was twisted into a grimace at the waves of pain that rolled in. His anger swelled. He could’ve prevented that, he should’ve just blown them both sky high but he didn’t and he wasn’t sure why. Slowly, the crumpled figure rose to his feet and straightened his posture, dark cold eyes looked around at the faces who were watching him, some astonished, others smirking or giggling. This spiked more anger and loathing not only to those boys but to everyone else, everyone who was watching and laughing, and everyone who didn’t stop to help or even ask if he was alright. It was times like this that made him realize he was alone… well there was Lily. The thought of her repressed some of the negative feelings a tad. She cared, she was the only one that looked past his appearance and odd quirks and behaviors, and she was the only one that seemed to understand.
Severus Snape walked to his book and picked it up, his bony fingers gently swept the dirt and grit from the cover with feathery-light touches; the sort of gentleness he showed only towards Lily and his work of course. Not far off he spotted his wand, in the sudden frenzy he had recalled it being tossed from his hand. He walked over to it and tucked it safely away after picking it up and walked to the spot he had picked out for himself. Sitting down he was reminded of the blow to his back as the pain spiked. Already that place was become tender with bruising, but nothing he couldn’t fix. Quietly he worked his magic to fix the aches and pains that he felt. All too often he had to do things like this and he couldn’t help but feel tired. He was sick of this, sick of it all. Why couldn’t he just fit in? He then began to find excuses and found blaming his parents a logical and acceptable one. It was their fault, especially his fathers. A sense of great hatred rose within him at the thought of this man and all the terrible things he’d done. Snape had flickers of images running through his head then; his father beating his mother, then him for seemingly no reason at all. No, now was not the time to think of such things, actually now that he thought of it, never was the time to think of such things. He had made it a point to forget about his home life, forget everything except Lily Evans and the good memories of their time together. Successfully Severus had compartmentalized such thoughts and memories and simply now swept them under the rug so to speak.
The Slytherin then reminded himself why he was here, he was here to enjoy himself and read not dwell over the past. A small sigh escaped his lips and he picked up his book that he had previously sat beside him and began flipping through it, began slipping into his world of comfort, began getting lost within the world he so frequently dreamed about.
I hope this is okay...
it's so close, i can almost taste it
the credits
made by rae aka
cupcake of rpgd and
vanilla_pop of caution 2.0
lyrics from angela via
"catch me if you can"
no stealing or else the pretty
fishies in my aquarium will
eat you<3
Parts by Lynns
choosetheside.proboards.com
the credits
made by rae aka
cupcake of rpgd and
vanilla_pop of caution 2.0
lyrics from angela via
"catch me if you can"
no stealing or else the pretty
fishies in my aquarium will
eat you<3
Parts by Lynns
choosetheside.proboards.com