Ripsnickle Ripple & The Nine Inch Muse Present:
Snape's Skin
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all. Such is true for all following chapters.
Rip's Notes: This is a story more concerned with emotion than action-- as such, I do not expect much. It began with an idea for a Snape/Draco story and now evolves into the psychoanalysis of Snape's many sides. I intend to go in many different directions, past and future, for the enlightenment of a very mysterious character. Enjoy!
Hallway
I have been in the halls walking and thinking. My walk is never aimless, more happens at night in these dungeon passages than one may dream ( or nightmare) about. My thinking is always aimless, and perhaps to equal my intentions on the prowl. One can have the queerest thoughts when all you see is an endless hallway and all you hear are your own footsteps. There was one instance in particular that I remember well.
It was some time after walking in the deeper bowels no longer discouraged me. These were the quiet moments, no students or teachers, portraits or ghosts here, just tender stone pleading for my finger's touch. All was quiet. And then I fell in love.
I suppose it was more of a subtle delight, but just as violent on the inside. Only by seeing the whites of my knuckles as I fisted my hands could one understand this "subtle delight". And those words are only the simpliest way of describing my thoughts. my heart is woven in silk. The illustrations in my mind of him as I
walked these dimming halls became more vibrant, more and more, until I was no longer in a hallway, but walking in the image of this angel. My fingernails clutched at the smooth stone walls, I'm sure I stumbled a few times, and then I stopped.
A dead end.
I walked down that same corridor many times after that and never having a good reason for it, either. I didn't expect another image. I wasn't looking for answers. But reaching the dead end brought back a feeling of extreme want, obsession. The stone is a reminder, even still, though my walks through quiet hallways have ceased to be so frequent, seeing that stone wall always fuels my desire.
And what of desire? Even now, it is different from when I began my private quest. In the beginning, it was towards him, and now it is for him. I told him in the beginning I was fond of him, he and his friends ( or perhaps cronies.. ) reminded me of my old days at hogwarts. I was lying to him, to myself. I enjoy him now because of who he is, not what he symbolizes. I have not told him this, of course. I both anticipate and dread his coming, whether he be alone or in class, because I can see him, but not have him. In many ways, our realationship is like a long walk down a cold corridor.
If there is a dead end, I will concoct an explosive substance, because Draco Malfoy deserves much more than just a place in my mind.
Snape's Skin
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all. Such is true for all following chapters.
Rip's Notes: This is a story more concerned with emotion than action-- as such, I do not expect much. It began with an idea for a Snape/Draco story and now evolves into the psychoanalysis of Snape's many sides. I intend to go in many different directions, past and future, for the enlightenment of a very mysterious character. Enjoy!
Hallway
I have been in the halls walking and thinking. My walk is never aimless, more happens at night in these dungeon passages than one may dream ( or nightmare) about. My thinking is always aimless, and perhaps to equal my intentions on the prowl. One can have the queerest thoughts when all you see is an endless hallway and all you hear are your own footsteps. There was one instance in particular that I remember well.
It was some time after walking in the deeper bowels no longer discouraged me. These were the quiet moments, no students or teachers, portraits or ghosts here, just tender stone pleading for my finger's touch. All was quiet. And then I fell in love.
I suppose it was more of a subtle delight, but just as violent on the inside. Only by seeing the whites of my knuckles as I fisted my hands could one understand this "subtle delight". And those words are only the simpliest way of describing my thoughts. my heart is woven in silk. The illustrations in my mind of him as I
walked these dimming halls became more vibrant, more and more, until I was no longer in a hallway, but walking in the image of this angel. My fingernails clutched at the smooth stone walls, I'm sure I stumbled a few times, and then I stopped.
A dead end.
I walked down that same corridor many times after that and never having a good reason for it, either. I didn't expect another image. I wasn't looking for answers. But reaching the dead end brought back a feeling of extreme want, obsession. The stone is a reminder, even still, though my walks through quiet hallways have ceased to be so frequent, seeing that stone wall always fuels my desire.
And what of desire? Even now, it is different from when I began my private quest. In the beginning, it was towards him, and now it is for him. I told him in the beginning I was fond of him, he and his friends ( or perhaps cronies.. ) reminded me of my old days at hogwarts. I was lying to him, to myself. I enjoy him now because of who he is, not what he symbolizes. I have not told him this, of course. I both anticipate and dread his coming, whether he be alone or in class, because I can see him, but not have him. In many ways, our realationship is like a long walk down a cold corridor.
If there is a dead end, I will concoct an explosive substance, because Draco Malfoy deserves much more than just a place in my mind.