Severus Snape

Pandora had left some of her polished glass out in the courtyard. She had a feeling that Binx may have been involved. Ellie’s cat was very smart and PJ never stopped the kitten getting into her things. Especially if it meant that something may get back to Ellie. Not that Ellie ever responded to any of her notes and doodles. Still. The kitten could get into her things any time.

“Oh!” She grasped her sweater over her heart and stumbled back a step. She hadn’t realized there was anyone else out here. “Oh, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just,” PJ gestured towards the small pile of smoothed glass in a corner, “Picking up the rest of my things. Did you want to be alone?”

...

“If I say yes, would you actually leave?” It wasn’t said as sharply as it might have been to anyone else. There was something too earnest about Pandora Joubert, with her wide eyes and sincere surprise at not being alone, and Severus wasn’t malicious enough to want to utterly crush that.

that was a lie. she certainly didn’t need to read his mind to know that. while narcissa may not be so sensitive to the temperature, she could tell when it was cold. she needed some meter by which to gauge how much coercing it would take for regulus to come out with her. the colder it became, the less chance she had. right now, it was cold. “your ears look red.” she said in return. it wasn’t an argument. it wasn’t even said to negate him. it was merely a statement of what she’d observed. if he wasn’t cold. he soon would be.

it still didn’t explain why he’d prefer to be out here, though. that was the answer she was looking for. what was he up to? why did he choose to be alone? “if it it neither, then may I inquire as to what it is?” she tilted her head to one side curiously. she was nothing if not rigidly polite under any circumstance.

cissy had never balked at the stare of any man. not the headmaster, no professor, not her cousins, uncle, or even her father could make her flinch. “me?” feigned innocence masked her features. “must there be a purpose to it? maybe I just like to watch for my own entertainment.”

...

Squashing the urge to raise a hand to his supposedly red ears, he even limited how far he let his shoulders hunch up. “You can always inquire. Doesn’t mean you’ll get a positive answer.” But he hesitated in that sharpness, wondering if there was genuine curiosity there, wavering. The moment ended, shattering with a soft snort. He didn’t buy that facade of innocence for a second.

“Things always have a purpose. Even if it is just for entertainment. But I don’t think you watch just for idle observation.” There was too much depth to Narcissa for that, even if she put on a good show of shallowness.

…

“Hey.. It’s cool. You don’t have to kiss me. Someone will eventually.” Reggie’s expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair a bit. Using his foot, he nudged the chair across from him out from under the table a little farther, an offer, maybe even an olive branch. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Or mad. Or whatever. My brother once told me that I was– well, he used language that I try to avoid in polite company, but basically he was saying that I’m dramatic. I am dramatic. And loud. But I don’t want to be rude. So… sorry. Lemme make it up to you.”

...

Of course someone would eventually. Cattermole had that sort of face and attitude. That he’d gone a week without finding someone willing to snog him was a minor miracle, with how so many of their castle-mates seemed to do little else. Severus could only imagine how someone close to Cattermole would impolitely describe him. If he was honest, he was a little intrigued. It was another one of life’s snubs that Cattermole chose that subject to be quiet on.

Reggie blinked, head tilting slightly as he gave Sev a once over. “Why wouldn’t you want to kiss me?” His tone held nothing but confusion, face mirroring the tone, as he leaned forward on the table and used his foot to push the chair across from him out. “Step into my office, let’s discuss it. Or, like, anything really. If my brain has to focus on these notes for one more second, it’s going to explode. So, let’s unpack this fear you have of my soft, pillowey lips. Is it just an intimidation thing? Wait, have you ever kissed anyone before? I offer lessons, in exchange for cookies and those little cake things.”

...

Merlin, Cattermole didn’t know when to drop it did he? Taking a deliberate step back away from the boy, Severus fought with the sense of a sick wave passing over him, keeping the horror , unease, discomfort, and disdain tucked away behind his all purpose sneer. One that just deepened as Cattermole landed a true blow. “I have neither desire nor requirement for lessons from you. In anything.” Except, perhaps, how to be so astoundingly arrogant as to go around assuming anyone and everyone wanted to snog him.

“All I’m saying is, I haven’t been kissed in, like, an entire week. This is not only cruel, it’s unusual, and I demand that someone kiss me right now.” Reggie was sprawled in a chair in the library, casually munching on a bag of crisps that he’s absolutely snuck in, and waving his hands far too wildly for a quiet study session in the library. “Do you want to kiss me? I promise I’m a great kisser. Tons of practice.”

...

♕ – — open! “You know, you really shouldn’t be out of bed this late,” Her voice rang through the empty hallway as she studied the other student’s face. It was her first night on rounds since the lockdown, and she’d already sent more than a few stragglers off to their dorms. It seemed everyone was anxious to spend as much time out of their rooms as possible at the moment, “you could get in a lot of trouble, I’ve been given strict orders to report anyone out of bed at this hour.”

~

“Merlin, what is your problem?” Reg rolled his eyes, wondering why he’d even bothered to ask. He picked up the baby, running his hands through her soft fur. “Half the castle owns a cat– it’s not like I accused you of devil worship or something.”

...

“Is this your kitty?” Reg asked, not even looking up at the human above in favor of petting the little creature. “You should come to knitting club– I’ve been working on a sweater for my cat, before it gets too cold out. It’s been fun.”

.

Severus fumes when he isn’t treated with the respect he thinks he’s earned and deserves. As an intelligent hardworking wizard, as a peer and classmate, as a fucking human being. He has spent too much of his life being written off and dismissed in all kinds of situations, and is too determined to prove himself better than people think he is to let such slights go by unnoticed. However, he is careful to control that anger—it takes a lot (or Potter’s ugly face) to make him lash out impulsively. Rather, his anger simmers and builds as he plots out retribution. 

08| Something that makes your character laugh

Severus Snape’s nose would fall off if he laughed.

He does have a sense of humor, if a dry, almost dark one. He doesn’t laugh easily, though, and has to feel comfortable and secure with the company he’s in to do so. That sort of enjoyment feels like a vulnerability, and he doesn’t share that easily or often. He’s more inclined to smirks, snickers, and scoffs than outright laughter.

20| What your character is like at social events

Severus is the black shadow along the wall, trying to go unnoticed and unseen while seeing everything. He stays the shortest amount of possible to not be rude and then departs —unless someone catches him and can draw him into a fascination conversation. Then he might well forget he’s at a part and get lost in that instead.

Of course there are things Severus would rather forget, but forgetting isn’t the same as making it never happen. Would forgetting how he was cornered and beaten by boys back in Cokeworth really fix the shame and anger at being victimized by Muggles? Would it remove the determination to never be powerless or helpless again? If it did, what of Severus would be left. Our memories make who we are, and Severus is already aware of that.

Paris and Severus both found solace in the quiet. While others of their little group might prefer chaos or be too enamored with the sound of their own voice to allow the air to go empty, this pair had always operated just fine in silence. Thus when Severus found the elder boy in one of their shared hideaways, where one or both of them could escape their compatriots, he didn’t even consider starting a conversation.

He couldn’t begin to fathom what Paris was dealing with, how he was feeling, what he was thinking. Father dead, murdered in the line of duty, cut down in the name of the Dark Lord. That brought honor and dignity, sure, but those were cold comforts to grief. Not to mention the pressures that no doubt came with being heir apparent.  To his own family name, certainly, but to the gaggle of devotees who had sworn vengeance on his behalf as well. A new responsibility, and new prescience of the war that had before seemed inevitable but now seemed to have arrived in the halls of Hogwarts.

narcissa had always liked to watch those who thought no one was looking at them. in her experience, they always had the most interesting things in their head. severus snape was no exception to this. narcissa knew because she could not quite get into his head. at their age, no one was practicing occlumencies. why had he? he was a rather quiet boy. studious and frustrated by their peers. what was he hiding?

she watched him quietly from her seat on the stone perch in the courtyard. cissy, while particularly gifted with looking at the inside of the mind, she was perfectly content to observe with her own hawlike eyes as well. it was, of course, what she’d grown up doing before she’d learned legillimencies. like a pale ghost, she haunted the curious.

she recognized that look. like a bird about to go back into a cage. “you look cold, severus.” she said quietly, unbothered by the temperature. an ice queen in every sense of the phrase. “what is so important that it could not wait until you were warm by the fire? or perhaps it is just something you don’t want anyone else to see?”

Severus should have known by that slight itch behind his eyes that he could never quite place or put into words but knew to associate with Narcissa Black that it was her he was sharing unwitting company with. There was something unnerving about the youngest sister Black that went beyond her dedication to being as animated and lively as an icicle. More than the sickly slick confidence of being  Pureblood royalty, too. Bellatrix might make his head ache, but she never made him feel like he should be watching behind his own eyes.

“I’m not cold,” he said crisply, the lie flowing without hesitation. It had a kernel of truth to it after all. Out of the wind, in the shelter of the castle, it was warmer, more bearable, and combined with the heat from the walk back, he felt perfectly fine, though he knew it wouldn’t last. “It is neither.” And both. Fleeting ideas needed to be jotted down quickly, least the fragile constructs of magic entanglements elude him a second later. Oh, he’d inevitably reprove the same another time, with hours of work and derivatives, but the insight of instinct was far too valuable to waste when it came to the fluid laws underpinning magic.

As for the other accusation, he’d want others to see in time. The fruits of his labors already bounced around the castle (sometimes even used against him in humiliating, irritating turns), and he was proud of that. Yet the idea of letting loose somethign unfinished and half baked appalled him. No, he didn’t share his spells until they were finished. Wasn’t like anyone else would appreciate the theory behind them, anyway, if they could even understand it.

Quidditch wasn’t exactly a sport that relied on cardio. It wasn’t a sport that required much physical ability on top of being able to warp the air around them and pray to god you don’t take a turn too tight and slide off. So… Maybe it was their abs that they worked the most, but they never really felt like they needed to work on that. Running however, helped ease the adrenaline and train their breath to stay calm in the more intense moments of a match. 

It wasn’t something they did often. Mostly just before a match to calm their nerves and remind themself that they are in charge of their reactions during a match. The cold whipping against their face was nothing compared to the way it bit during a downward spiral. It was almost refreshing this way. Gwenog made it into the courtyard, holding their hands above their heads and leaning against one of the pillars. 

They thought they were alone, but after stabilizing their heart rate they reopened their eyes they noticed another figure on not far away. “Hey, Snape. What’s got you doodling about out in the freezing cold?” 

The glance up was smooth, small enough to be barely noticeable, and fast, but long enough for him to evaluate their safeness. Gwenog Jones, neutral enough, back from some sort of run, never been an antagonist before, no need to be so high on alert.

Some would say that Frankie was a very defiant person. She would say that she was simply high spirited. Either way, not even a whole herd of trolls could keep her from going outside. Or a bunch of terrorist dark wizards. She tended to count herself as a social person, always desperate to be surrounded by others just so that Frankie could feel not so quiet alone. But sometimes, just sometimes, she preferred her own company.

Which is not what she got when she wandered into the courtyard, tugging her robe tightly around herself to chase away the bitter cold seeping into the dark air. Her wand was laid almost forgotten back in the common room on her bedside table. It had been left there when Frankie had realised the time and had to rush so that she wouldn’t miss dinner. Which she missed anyway after have gotten distracted with being cornered by one of the feral Slytherin cats on the third floor. Frankie was Not A Fan.

Wandering around without her wand was not an uncommon experience for Frankie, she didn’t heavily rely on magic. Happy enough to open a door with her own hands, getting up to retrieve an item herself or throwing punches instead of jinxes. Frankie rubbed her fingers together deep in the warmth of her pockets, kicking up a stone as she wandered. A stone that rolled to a stop at someone else’s feet.

‘‘Sorry buddy, my bad.’‘ She began apologising, but then stopped as her eyes dragged over the sullen figure with his head buried in a notebook. ‘‘You Slytherins really need to contain your animals.’‘ Frankie frowned at Severus in accusation, maybe not a fair accusation as perhaps he didn’t own an animal, but he was still one of them either way. ‘‘They’re fucking vicious.’‘

Even if he hadn’t spent six years in the same, relatively small castle, knew all his classmates as well as he ever cared to, he could have pinned the voice as entirely Gryffindor before bothering to see who it was. If ‘you Slytherins’  wasn’t indication enough, that self-righteous accusation would have cinched it. Realizing it was Rosmerta add little to that besides an silently resigned ‘of course’ and a small relaxing of guard. Fractional but there. She at least wasn’t likely to try and curse his ears onto his ass for daring to breathe.

“Don’t have an animal, not my problem.” If she wanted to take it up with Bas, she could try. He suspected she wouldn’t come away from that so smugly confident. “And animals are only vicious when they feel threatened.” Made them rather more reliable company than humans, and more fair. Lifting his gaze from his notebook, he stared at her blandly. “What is it about you that makes animals turn vicious, then?”