Descent
A summer breeze polluted with laughter began his second year at Hogwarts. It blew his robes and hair in front of him, pushed him to castle entrance. Crossing the threshold was like an old sweater, full of warmth and memories. Sitting at his regular seat in the dining hall brought on the thoughts.
He had swallowed his vacation whole, it was quick and petty, and now he reguritated peices of it in his mind... they were sour. It made his mouth water for the magnificent feast soon to come. Sitting through the first year sorting ceremony was more tedious than Professor Tull's pop quizzes, but the food came soon after. Truthfull, though, he had never really enjoyed food. It was satiating the hunger that gave him pleasure. He ate slowly, chewed his food, used his manners. He finished just in time to follow his house to thier dorms.
It had only been a few hours since putting on his Slytherin House robes, but he could already feel thier mind-altering affects. It was a numbing sensation in his fingers, narrowed eyes, curled lips. His gait changed, he grinned less. Do clothes really make the man? If not, then why would he feel such a change in his entire being in only a few hours? To say he became a shadow of his own accord would be giving him too much credit, because he really didn't even try.
The Slytherin clan turned a corner and then walked down a staircase. He walked in the back of the line, almost near the end, so that only when he turned the corner did he realize the Slytherins and Gryffindors were passing eachother by on the stairs. It's a strange sight to see, glaring eyes, averted eyes, and all the inbetween. When he finally got to the top step, preparing for descent, he looked up. His eyes had been dropped, not in a passive way, it was uncaring. But now because of the steep angle of the stairs, he could see Grryfindor faces, all blurred but one, one face among the rest shining, a face that owned the name of James Potter.
Only after the awkwardness of the pass. The way James had stepped up as Severus has stepped down. Thier
eyes meeting for a second, that one recognition-driven second, and once received, gone. A moment in the eternity that elapsed consisted of thier eyes holding a silent conversation which could've lasted a lifetime, but ended prematurely. Only after all this did he begin to think on James Potter's face. It was too quick and spontaneous to search through his feelings for what he thought of that face during the meet, but afterwards, when he had been settled in his dorm, out of his robes and into his bed, did he begin to think on the face. And the only emotion he could produce was pure adoration.
Though that was hardly the case in the days to follow.
A summer breeze polluted with laughter began his second year at Hogwarts. It blew his robes and hair in front of him, pushed him to castle entrance. Crossing the threshold was like an old sweater, full of warmth and memories. Sitting at his regular seat in the dining hall brought on the thoughts.
He had swallowed his vacation whole, it was quick and petty, and now he reguritated peices of it in his mind... they were sour. It made his mouth water for the magnificent feast soon to come. Sitting through the first year sorting ceremony was more tedious than Professor Tull's pop quizzes, but the food came soon after. Truthfull, though, he had never really enjoyed food. It was satiating the hunger that gave him pleasure. He ate slowly, chewed his food, used his manners. He finished just in time to follow his house to thier dorms.
It had only been a few hours since putting on his Slytherin House robes, but he could already feel thier mind-altering affects. It was a numbing sensation in his fingers, narrowed eyes, curled lips. His gait changed, he grinned less. Do clothes really make the man? If not, then why would he feel such a change in his entire being in only a few hours? To say he became a shadow of his own accord would be giving him too much credit, because he really didn't even try.
The Slytherin clan turned a corner and then walked down a staircase. He walked in the back of the line, almost near the end, so that only when he turned the corner did he realize the Slytherins and Gryffindors were passing eachother by on the stairs. It's a strange sight to see, glaring eyes, averted eyes, and all the inbetween. When he finally got to the top step, preparing for descent, he looked up. His eyes had been dropped, not in a passive way, it was uncaring. But now because of the steep angle of the stairs, he could see Grryfindor faces, all blurred but one, one face among the rest shining, a face that owned the name of James Potter.
Only after the awkwardness of the pass. The way James had stepped up as Severus has stepped down. Thier
eyes meeting for a second, that one recognition-driven second, and once received, gone. A moment in the eternity that elapsed consisted of thier eyes holding a silent conversation which could've lasted a lifetime, but ended prematurely. Only after all this did he begin to think on James Potter's face. It was too quick and spontaneous to search through his feelings for what he thought of that face during the meet, but afterwards, when he had been settled in his dorm, out of his robes and into his bed, did he begin to think on the face. And the only emotion he could produce was pure adoration.
Though that was hardly the case in the days to follow.