Post by Deleted on Dec 11, 2013 8:32:19 GMT -8
Time passed evermore slowly in the days following the eradication of Rabastan Lestrange from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Merlin, who'd ever heard of expulsion due to a bit of necromancy? Certainly it was an illegal, ritualistic art- but one that has surely been practiced in secret for centuries within the archaic dungeons of the academy. Of course, it was an eloquently fabricated excuse, a ruse to displace Rabastan from his peers, lest he sway them to his unsavory cause. That's all the ministry could manage these day's- silly excuses of little consequence and ill premonitions. Small minded wizards with unrealistic visions of sugar plums and equality. A ridiculous concept, to be sure- no one is ever equal. We are not all special, unique flowers with redeeming qualities. There are two kinds of humans in the world: the Pure-blooded elite, and the riff-raff.
Severus was the latter, a low class, citizen, blessed with a talented, analytical mind that created value in his character. He was of the select few deemed worthy to grace the common room of Slytherin along with his pureblooded brethren.
But they would never be that, would they? They could never view Severus as a brother, in earnest. For he was a half-blood, a mudblood, tainted goods.
Yet there were those who consistently embraced his presence as whole-heartedly as possible, still, Rabastan Lestrange being one such individual. Hence his current presence at the cusp of the Hogwarts grounds- preparing to slip stealthily away from campus for a brief rendezvous with one of his only true companions.
The cold, bitter wind of February snapped at Severus' long, angular nose, drying out his throat and causing his breath to hitch in scratching gasps. Glancing back to ensure no one had followed him, Snape pulled the thick wool of his ebony petticoat closer to his skin, harboring the warmth against his thinly-sheathed chest. Beneath his outerwear, Sev chose to wear his more presentable attire- a thin, classic silver button down with plain black trousers and matching loafers. He detested his severely lacking wardrobe, and always felt uneasy in the presence of the Lestrange abode whilst donning his less-then-luxurious threads. Yet, Rabastan had yet to judge him based solely on his attire- more so on his ambitions and morals. How very....just.
Mere fractions of a second after stepping off campus, Severus had ignited the tip of his wand and silently cast a warming spell on his figure. The sweet relief of warmth instantly washed its way over his entire form, granting a vivid, tingling sensation. Severus adored the wonders and mystery of Magic.
It took only minutes for Sev to expertly navigate through the familiar broken cobblestone paths and weed-ridden alleyways of the abandoned section of Hogsmeade, the area surrounding the Shrieking Shack. As he passed the decrepit building, he heard the faintest howling- perhaps it could have even been a trick of the wind. Regardless, Severus quickened his step, and subconsciously glanced towards the moon- full and shining in the twilight atmosphere. The tattered buildings soon gave way to luxurious abodes and ridiculous Victorian mansion, as he entered the little-inhabited, but glamorously wealthy district of the village. Of the more intimidating residences was the Lestrange Manor- a daunting structure of prosperity and expectation. At an easy, gradual promenade, Severus approached the heavy, ornate door. Knocking once, twice, with the heavy pewter handle, he waited for permission to enter the home.
