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demisms) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2013-09-09 03:30 pm
demisms) wrote in bakerstreet2013-09-09 03:30 pm
Entry tags:
i kinda like that; i wanna tap that
The Would You Hit That? Meme
You suddenly have the urge to tell that person what you would or wouldn't do to them.
①Post your character.
②Post to other characters.
③Have fun, anything goes.
④Profit.
Re: draco malfoy | harry potter
[KIDS THESE DAYS. Must they speak such Muggle gobbledegook?!]
no subject
—Don't worry about it, professor.
[he regains a ruse of confidence, smiling lopsidedly as he tries to play this off.]
It's—just some idiotic word game, essentially; nothing to be concerned about, I assure you!
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If it's nothing to be concerned about, as you so flippantly suggest, then surely you have no concern about enlightening me.
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Draco doesn't mind the idea of lying to Snape, but it's always impossible. his expression sobers back down to something more indifferent, and he glances to the side with an irritated little sigh. when he looks back at Snape, it's with a little bit of a petulant, dull stare.]
...Snogging, professor, is mostly what it implies.
[no way Draco's going to go as far as to admit the actual point of the game, especially when it's not something he's wittingly participated in. how humiliating. he hopes it's too much information as it stands, at least...]
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Snogging.
[He echoes Draco in a deadpan tone that matches that of the expression on his face.
Of course, Severus is not without understanding that people of Draco's age are driven by hormones - he himself was once that age, after all - but that doesn't mean Severus finds such things to be in any way tasteful. Always a stickler for conduct (a "prude" might be more accurate), he has little patience for hormone-driven teenagers indulging in the whims of their curiosities.]
Given that is, according to you, mostly what it implies, I can only imagine what it actually implies. And quite frankly, that you are openly entertaining such thoughts in the presence of a teacher is most unbecoming of you, Mr. Malfoy.
There are much more pressing matters at hand that you ought to be focusing your thoughts on, and acts of debauchery is not one of them.
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Draco's face turns pink from his forehead to his ears, utterly mortified. adults getting involved in any manner with juvenile courtship and things of that nature is always so. horrific. his hands fly up defensively, fingers splayed.]
N-no, obviously not! I had no part of it, professor! It's just—when the game is on, unfortunately anyone can be subject to the, erm—ratings, of other students... It was them, not me!
[his shoulders slacken, his body language seeming to lax somewhat as his expression dims. it is, after all, the truth. even if Draco was honestly a little curious, he had no bold intentions of participation in the game...
he knows, of course, that he hasn't time for things like adolescent romance or conquest. ultimately, with what's going on in his life, that's why he let Pansy go before anything got too serious. if he can barely manage to get more than a meal down a day, how can he maintain a girlfriend or anything similar?]
I know better than to fraternize when I've got...other matters at hand.
[his phrasing is delicate.]
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And yet, if you didn't wish to be subjected to such ratings, you wouldn't have made yourself subject to it in the first place.
[But at Draco's acquiescence that he knows better than to fraternise during such tense and stressful times as they were currently both facing, the look he's giving Draco relents several degrees. He straightens his shoulders and sets his jaw, regarding the boy with carefully schooled impassivity.
Unfavourable though he finds the subject of adolescent carnal curiosity (and acts of carnality in general), he secretly feels pity for Draco, for not being able to have a normal teenage life; for having such heavy burdens placed on his young shoulders. It's not a life a teenage boy deserves to have, especially when not by choice. Severus feels a great deal of hidden disgust towards Lucius for the things he's forcing his son to partake in; and the hidden disgust he holds towards the Dark Lord, for choosing Draco to undertake such a grisly and soul-destroying task, is tenfold.
He decides to coolly change the subject. For now. The conversation he'd attempted to have with Draco in the corridor the other night, about assisting Draco, about being able to clearly see that the boy is terrified of what's expected of him, is still fresh in his mind, after all.]
Speaking of which, have you given any further thought to me offering you my assistance?
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Draco is a coward by nature, so of course he's scared. but this isn't injury from boyish rivalries, from being provocative of people's aggressions—it's so much bigger. for his family, he has to be brave, and it's just not a quality he naturally possesses. he can't tell if Snape is jealous, or if he's actually concerned for him; Draco hasn't thought much of it, either way.]
I told you, [he starts firmly, speaking slow to keep his voice steady.] this is my. Task.
[his voice becomes very quiet, given their subject, and he glances away before he looking Snape back in the face.] If the Dark Lord had wanted you for this, then he would have chosen you.
[and, of course, despite his rigid attempts to be stern, using every inch of his recent height by standing up straight to his mentor, the fear is clear in his eyes for the way they are over glassed.]
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And so, Severus merely pinches his lips together, his own expression darkening under the frustration of Draco's stubbornness and Severus' own sense of helplessness. Severus truly doesn't know how much more of this he can take. He feels like he himself is on the very brink of snapping. But he must hold it together. He must. He owes it to Dumbledore. He owes it to Lily. He owes it to Draco that the boy not have his soul destroyed for the Dark Lord's relentlessly selfish gain.
He reaches out and snatches Draco's wrist, and he hauls the boy after him to a quieter, more private place so that no one will overhear. He pulls Draco into a small alcove, lets him go and whips around to face him.]
I never said it wasn't your task. But your fear is palpable, Draco. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you conduct yourself. [Severus' tone is calm but sharp. He wants Draco to listen to him, just this once.] The Dark Lord has high expectations of you and should you fail him because of fear... [Severus' voice quietens.] The Dark Lord does not take kindly to failure, and failure out of fear will be no excuse.
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Do you think I don't understand what's at stake by this?
[by now, his voice has lost its steadiness; it wavers with anxiety and fear. he gives a sharp, cold and cursory take of Snape, clenching his jaw to keep his lip from trembling.]
That's precisely why it is my business!
[he blinks to settle his vision, and he reigns himself in a little. small blessings.]
I will not—[he pauses for emphasis, to make himself perfectly clear.]—fail him.
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[Severus towers in over Draco to emphasise his point. He stares directly into Draco's eyes, his expression cold, stern, commanding. Of course, he has to keep Draco thinking that he himself is on the side of the Dark Lord, the Dark Lord's spy and right-hand man, and Severus knows he plays that part very well. But fear for Draco's life - for his own life should he himself fail to uphold the Unbreakable Vow - is what drives him to keep that facade of loyalty to the Dark Lord firmly affixed.
Part of him wants to grab Draco by the shoulders and shake him. Shake him and shake him until the boy can see past his fear clouding his judgement. Another part of him - the part of him that feels protective of Draco, and has done for a number of years now - feels near heart-wrenching terror for the boy, at the way his voice is shaking and the look of utter fear in the boy's eyes.
Instead, Severus stands tall again, jaw squared, and he draws in a deep but carefully controlled breath.]
I know you know what's at stake, Draco. But listen to yourself. Look at yourself. Do you think the Dark Lord is going to look upon you with favour if you are quivering in your boots like a coward while attempting to carry out your task?
[Severus abruptly leans back in. His voice drops again, quiet, almost menacing sounding with how desperate he is for Draco to damn well listen to him.] Let. me. help. you.
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the terror inside Draco wells, for his dam was weak to begin with. he can't look Snape in the eyes any longer, and so his gaze falls, tears caught in his eyelashes that he sorely hopes aren't so visible. his ears feel hot and his clothes feel tight and stifling, his breath slowly coming to a faster pace as the panic takes him.
his voice is still quiet, but less sour. instead, it's soft only because if he speaks any louder, his words will surely dissolve abruptly into the sobs he's still stubbornly belting back.]
What reason have you got to be so insistent?
[and then, of course: a truly pathetic, and characteristic, sniffle.]
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[And again, all Severus can do is press his lips into a thin, firm line at the way Draco's resolve is crumbling. Severus balls his hands at his sides and for a split second he considers lifting an arm around Draco to pull him into an embrace. Not that Severus is the affectionate kind - he's far from affectionate - but he doesn't know what else to do.
He swallows thickly. Oh, how he wishes he could do something to pull Draco out of the circle of Death Eaters. Free him from this chaos, this cruelty, this inevitable bloodshed. This festering, vile future Lucius had willingly allowed - nay, forced - Draco into.
He watches the boy coming undone at the edges with the smallest hint of sadness and fear for Draco in his own eyes. He works his jaw and forces those emotions back beneath the surface. Emotions are a weakness; if he allows emotions to start leaking forth, he will become weak to the Dark Lord's Legilimency. And so, he pushes everything that could potentially expose him down, right down, until he's nothing but stony faced and stern looking again.]
Tears are a waste of energy. [He says this coolly and dismissively but not without the tiniest inflection of gentleness. But then he steels himself again.] Stop being foolish and let me help you.
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And how do you plan to help me?
[Snape's words do sting, especially as Draco is used to being coddled by his parents; having been treated with a gentle hand by adults his entire life until very recently, he doesn't do well with the sternness. but Snape's, at least, is a sternness he's used to. even when acting in Draco's favor, it's always been with this tone.
he does take several shuddering breaths inward, and it calms him somewhat—he wipes an eye as well. being a little mad at Snape helps him feel less ready to fall apart with the thought of his parents being murdered.
worst of all, it's probably all being broadcasted to Voldemort. the specifics of his terror, his anxiety...]
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I'll teach you to control your emotions. To block your mind.
[Severus knew there simply wasn't enough time to truly teach Draco how to do that effectively. But that wasn't the point: if he could convince Draco to allow him to mentor him in ways of controlling his emotions, it meant he could keep a closer eye on the boy. It meant he could keep Draco as far out of harm's way as was possible. It meant that he could do his best to protect Draco with greater control if he could keep him under his watchful eye.
And he had the perfect excuse: he could tell the Dark Lord that he was preparing the boy for what was to come. Training him up to be a good soldier for the Dark Lord's cause.
He needed to drum it home to Draco, though. Make the boy think about this.
Do you want the Dark Lord knowing how weak your mind is? How weak you are? Do you want the Dark Lord to doubt you, Draco? Because he will if you keep spiralling the way you are.
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I don't, [Draco sobs in a whisper, wilting somewhat at his knees.] I don't. I want—t-to serve him. I want his confidence in me.
[as it leaves his mouth, Draco wonders if it's even true, anymore. but he wants to finish this mission, that much is true.]
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Draco looks like a cornered animal. Defenceless. Weak. Frozen in terror. Petrified. And all Severus can do is blankly, impassively, coldly look on. There is absolutely nothing he can do except fulfil what Dumbledore made him promise to do when the time came.]
And you'll have it if you learn how to control your emotions, Draco. If you learn how to block your mind.
[Otherwise the Dark Lord will think you're useless and will destroy you.
He decides to pose it as a quiet, coaxing, almost gentle question this time, and he raises his hand to very lightly touch Draco's arm:]
Will you let me help you, Draco?
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this approach is effective, with Draco softened up as much as he's been.]
Yes, [he agrees weakly, nodding blearily. if he could be in better control of his emotions, maybe he could eat or sleep a little more. as it is, he's lost weight, and even he can see it when bare. he's paler than even usual, darkness stuck around his eyes.
unfortunately, occlumency does not quite work that way.]
Please.
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He watches Draco, how small and fragile he looks even despite his height. He's so fragile with terror that he looks like he might break if he was to be handled even just a little too roughly. He's so terribly thin, and pale, and a picture of stress and unending dread.
Severus gives a curt, single nod.] Good.
He squares his shoulders, reigns himself back in, fully resumes the persona of cold sternness.] Now, pull yourself together. Get a grip on yourself.
We'll start tonight, after dinner. Come to my office. Come alone. Am I clear?
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Alright.
[he nods again, sniffing, and takes a step back.]
Alright.
[he then skulks away at a pace that's blessedly quick for his recently sprouted long legs, and spends the rest of his evening with a distracted sort of numbness. he barely hears his name at his table, though he does well enough generally, and he leaves early without excusing himself.
and he makes very sure he is alone. he knows that specific peers of his are very adept at sneaking around. confident he hasn't been followed, however, Draco lets himself into Snape's office with light feet. he closes the door just as quietly.]
sorry for the length ;_;
Elbows resting on the desk, his face hidden in his hands, Severus takes a few deep, determinedly calming breaths to still the turmoil brewing in him. Merlin, how he doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He doesn't want this guilt, this shame, this heavy wage of sin eating away at him like a raging storm against a crumbling cliff.
It's his own fault, though. All of this is his own fault. Not a day goes by where he doesn't think about how this is all his fault. If only he hadn't been so horribly misguided in his youth, so bitterly driven by hatred, by a determination to exact pain on the world the way the world had exacted pain on him. If only he hadn't been so obsessed with seeking the approval of others. If only he hadn't been so obsessed with being looked upon with favour by the Dark Lord, then he never would have been so foolish as to tell the Dark Lord the Prophecy he'd overheard that night in the Hog's Head Inn. Lily would still be alive. The weight of knowing he had to slay Dumbledore wouldn't be hanging over his head like an anvil waiting to drop. Draco would never be in the position that he's in.
It's all his fault.
Severus pulls himself together, though. He always pulls himself together. No matter how pressing, taxing, terrifying, despairing the situation - he always pulls himself together. He dines in the Great Hall as per expected of all the teachers, and he does so with typical silence and disinterest in engaging with anybody else. He glances at Draco only a few times; he is otherwise very careful to assume a composure of indifference and when he finishes his dinner, he rises from the table and sweeps out of the Great Hall in a swish of black robes.
And when he returns to his office, he waits for Draco. He busies himself while doing so to keep his mind occupied, to keep his hands busy; he aimlessly sorts through a box of Potions ingredients he's been meaning to label and categorise for his stores. It helps centre his thoughts. He needs to be centred. And when he hears his office door quietly opening, he calmly glances over his shoulder before returning his attention to the vial he's currently got clasped in his fingers.]
Sit.
[His commanding greeting is quiet and composed. He places the vial back into the box, closes it and stores it on the shelf. He turns to face Draco.]
Good to see you've got yourself back under control tonight, Draco. I do hope you ate a reasonably sufficient dinner. You're going to need the energy.
NEVER A PROBLEM
at the mention of a sufficient dinner, Draco looks at his lap. he ate, of course, but not much. he's never had a large appetite, but he would always eat well. lately, however, it's difficult to feign an appetite, even for his health.
and so his eyes find Snape again, his expression steady and even, if not somewhat somber. but, it could be from the recent thinness of his face and the darkness of the room.]
More sufficient than usual, at least.
good good
It won't do. If he's to teach Draco how to face his fears, he's going to have to be ruthless. Severus starts forward and he briskly grabs Draco's arm, pulling him roughly to his feet. He wants to see anger, not fear. Emotions are things he wants to teach Draco to gain control of but until then - he needs Draco to engage, to focus, to channel himself in a way that will ultimately help him.]
Is this how you compose yourself in front of the Dark Lord? Like a scared little child? [He lets Draco's arm go with a brusque shove. Peers sharply into his eyes.] If I was the Dark Lord, I'd be disgusted by what I'm looking at right now: a coward.
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he hisses through his teeth in a surprised, suppressed gasp when Snape yanks him upward, and he keeps his teeth bared as he's roughly shoved free. he then neatly straightens his sleeve with slow strokes, his heavy brow furrowed pensively.]
Stop handling me!
[Draco rakes Snape's dark silhouette with his pale eyes, scowling tightly for a moment as he looks Snape back into his eyes. he shakes out his shoulder. he doesn't trust Snape as much as he used to, but he's also desperate.
he doesn't know how to refute his being a coward.]
Don't waste my time... I haven't much of it.
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[He realises his office is not going to be a safe enough place to do this. They both need to be as far away from prying ears and eyes as possible. Anybody could come knocking on his door, student or teacher. Anybody could simply stand right outside that door and eavesdrop.
Reaching for Draco's wrist, he snatches it and drags Draco with him to the door. He flings it open, checks momentarily that the coast is clear, and hauls the boy after him down the corridor, his other hand reaching into his robe for his wand to charm the door shut over his shoulder. It slams with a resounding thud.
He leads Draco down a staircase that spirals into the bowels of the castle. It's a long and tense walk, his grip tight and fierce as he wrestles Draco down the stairs after him, and eventually they come to a room at the end of another smaller and darker corridor that is far away from where anyone would think to look for them. He charms the door open - it flies open at his silent command - and he forces Draco to go in first, stepping into the room behind him.
Door shut and locked, Severus whips back around to look at the boy. And suddenly, Severus is calm again.]
It's safer here. [That's the only explanation he's going to offer. He draws in a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and begins walking a slow circle around the boy.]
So, now that we're safe... Tell me, Draco: what does the Dark Lord mean to you? And don't lie, or I'll know.
(no subject)