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in_the_grass ([info]in_the_grass) wrote in [info]wished,
@ 2009-11-10 23:34:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!1997: 11, !open, severus snape

Who: Snape and OPEN to anyone hanging about No. 12, Grimmauld Place
What: Poking through Black's old things
Where: No. 12, Grimmauld Place
When: Tonight
Warnings: None

The uppermost staircase ended in a shortened hall, home only to two rooms. Snape hesitated a moment - out of distaste, of course - and then gripped the handle of the door that was marked with a small, tarnished plaque: Sirius. The latch clicked easily, although the hinges resisted as he pushed the door open: he doubted anyone had visited for some time. He repressed the childish urge to hold his nose as he stepped over the threshold. The man was long dead. He could not possibly still be contaminating the place.

He gave an impatient snort as the light from his wand traveled across the walls. They were completely jumbled over with the most obnoxious variety of nonsense; magazine clippings and still, ancient-looking photographs, and school banners in red and gold. They fluttered quietly as he carefully sent a flame up into the chandelier to light the room. He wasn't certain what he was looking for, but he had felt compelled to stop in - if he was going to be stuck here, he could at least pry a little -

He froze when an unexpected movement caught his eye. One picture amidst the mess of Muggle cut-outs stood out, different: Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and Potter. With a hot jolt of hatred, he reached up to rip it off the wall. It wouldn't budge. His eyes narrowed, and he tried again, putting all the force he could muster into his arm - nothing - he grabbed at its edges and gave a little hop, pulling at it with his entire weight. The four of them looked back at him as cheerfully as ever. He pointed his wand in their direction, took a moment to savor the feeling, and muttered a satisfied little curse - which merely bounced straight back at him, forcing him to duck aside, and left a smoldering hole in the bedspread. He snarled, grabbed the cobwebbed chair from behind the desk, and spun it around to sit with his back to the blasted thing, seething.

And so it was with less than his usual finesse that he began to sift through the books and papers he found on shelves, in the desk, in a box in the wardrobe. It was all useless to him, and soon it blanketed the floor, though there was plenty more to browse.

A photograph fell out of the pile in his hands; he stooped to pick it up from the carpet, and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. He hardly dared to look at it here, but for a few moments he was unable to take his eyes off of her. How was it possible that he had never had a picture before? He knew that to keep it would be foolhardy - but, with great care, he folded it in half, tore off the portion showing Potter and his boy, and slipped the remainder safely into his pocket. Soon he was madly flipping through pages of correspondence, looking for some accompanying note or letter that would let him date it precisely.



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ooc: but of course not! :)
[info]in_the_grass
2009-11-14 04:20 am UTC (link)
Snape let his hands come lightly to rest on the stack of papers sitting in his lap. The shock of discovering he was being watched passed over him very quickly; he was too used to being on his guard these days to let it show in his posture. Still, he felt like kicking himself for having sunk so deeply into distraction. "If I were snooping," he drawled, pulling off another page or two of Black's correspondence and dropping it carelessly after a cursory inspection, "I'd have shut the door." Out of the corner of his eye, her handwriting jumped out at him; buried under a few more letters. He looked up at Alecto, looking perfectly at home amid the mountain of papers he'd left around the chair. "Come to pay your respects, have you? - But I suppose you'd have been a little too old to have the pleasure of the elder Black's company." He swept his wand towards the fireplace that stood between the desk and the bed, bringing up a lively patch of flames. No better way to dispose of evidence. "You may consider yourself most fortunate."

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[info]alecto__carrow
2009-11-14 04:57 am UTC (link)
"You would think after all the torture they gave you during school, you would much rather burn this room," Stepping into the room, heels crunched under old newspaper clippings and what other rubbish might be laying about on the ground. Plucking a few pieces of paper from the ground, lips curled into a sneer once more. "instead of getting nostalgic, and ruffling through them."

Turning a few of the letters, she came across the picture that Severus previously tore in half, "I do." Arching a brow towards the former professor, Alecto just tipped the papers and pictures into the fireplace. The sound of the dried, and old papers crackling and disintegrating was bliss to her ears.

"So, if you're not snooping, and you're obviously not paying your respects... what are you doing up here?" It was simple question, and her gaze glanced down to the papers on his lap.

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[info]in_the_grass
2009-11-14 05:06 am UTC (link)
"You mistake nausea for nostalgia," he replied, his words a little clipped. It was bad enough that he should have to recall the misery Black and his gang had inflicted on him; the thought that other people remembered as well was decidedly unpleasant. He glanced up at the papers crumpling in the fire. Why was he here?

"Black was Potter's godfather," he said, with a shrug. They were perfect for each other, as far as he was concerned. "I thought I might as well spend my interminable hours here sifting through for something helpful, doubtful as it may be. The man's papers are pure nonsense, and mostly from before the boy was born." He dropped another sheet onto the floor. "All the same, do look at things before you burn them, won't you? I wouldn't like to do anything we'd have cause to regret."

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