thehalfbloodprinc3

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Severus bristled at the new occupant of the shop. Remus Lupin was one of the last people he'd want to see and now it seemed apparent that Severus was going to be forced to teach alongside him. This he hadn't been told about and he did not appreciate the surprise. He supposed that eventually the Headmistress would ask him to brew Wolfsbane and Severus would be forced to comply lest an entire school full of children be put in danger. Really, what was she thinking hiring a former Death Eater who was bitter, and cruel, and a fucking werewolf?

"Nervous?" Severus drawled, "you'll probably be right at home amongst cruel school children. You used to be," Severus said, then added, "or you could look on the bright side. Even if it's awful you'll likely be dead by the end of the year. Cursed post, and all," Severus smirked nastily in Remus' general direction and Madam Malkin 'accidentally' poked Severus with a pin.

Severus watched over his shoulder as Lupin browsed the used robes section. Severus would have been too, but Narcissa had gifted him some extra galleons to purchase a brand new robe so for once in his life there were no second hand robes in store for him. It would be one less thing for nasty children to make fun of him for.

In Which Albus Dumbledore Ruins Severus Snape's Life.

Where: Madam Malkins

Who: Open//

Severus tipped his head back against the nicotine stained wall and zapped a couple flies that were buzzing round the ceiling. It was 3AM and his insomnia was hitting him hard. A migraine was throbbing right between his eyes. They crossed as a fly buzzed particularly close to his hooked nose and he raised his wand- zap!

The more things change, Severus thought, the more they stay the same. He'd been sat on his poor excuse for a bed with it's poky springs and thin, stained, mattress since he was a boy zapping at flies in the summer. He watched a couple of them land along the edge of a brown water stain on the ceiling. They started to fuck. Severus sneered at them- little perverts. He thought about zapping them too but then he decided to have a shred of mercy and at least let them finish first. He thought also about fixing the water stain but then- why? The house was a piece of shite with all of it's piece-of-shite memories. It might as well stay that way. It's wasn't worth his effort or his magic to improve it.

Severus laid his wand aside on his leaning bedside table. The ashtray there was a chipped avocado green relic from the late '60's and was positively overflowing with cigarette butts and ash. Severus reached for his pack and his lighter. He hung a cigarette between his frowning lips and lighted it with the cracked plastic Bic. He could have well lit it with his wand but there was something more satisfying about clicking the Muggle lighter. He continued to click it idly as he smoked and grew bigger, more purpley, eye bags just for the hell of it. He blew the smoke in rings up towards the fucking flies.

Just then a tapping noise came against his window.

Severus rolled off the creaking bed and walked lazily to the window. It was the distinct tapping of an owl but who would be owling him at this time of night? Or rather, morning. Severus rubbed his eyes once and then opened the window. It wasn't an owl- it was a phoenix.

Severus was immediately on high alert. He intercepted the letter from the phoenix's ankle and motioned for it to perch on the edge of his desk while he read its offering.

My Dear Boy,

It's been quite a long night and I was just having tea before bed when I remembered I ought to owl you. I was curious if you'd seen that job opening in the Daily Prophet today. I have attached a copy of the posting and I suggest you consider it very strongly. The war may be over but the battle between Light and Dark is an ever continuing theme in the wizarding world, and in many of our lives- yours especially, I think. I really would hate for you, Severus, to get into any trouble after I've gone to such lengths to spare you from Azkaban for your original affiliations during the war. If there is any way that you might repay such kindness, dear boy, it is by keeping your nose clean. I think it would do you well to have Minerva looking after you- keeping you on your toes as it were. I believe you must grow, and you must learn, Severus, from the foolish mistakes of your not-so-distant past. And what better place to grow, and to learn, than at Hogwarts?

-Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Minister for Magic

Severus sneered at the letter. What was the old man on about? Hogwarts? And how dare he suggest that Severus needed someone- Minerva McGonagal- to mind him as though he were a child?

Severus' black gaze darted to the Dark Arts tomes that were currently stacked, one of them opened, on the edge of his desk. Fawkes was, in fact, perched upon them as if to further highlight his perceived misdeed of studying something that most people simply misunderstood. Severus rolled his eyes and sighed.

He unrolled the copy of the Prophet which had been sent with the letter and pawed through the pages until he reached the jobs postings.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is currently accepting applications for the following positions: Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions. Experienced and interested persons may owl Headmistress McGonagal if interested.

Severus' migraine pounded harder.

Severus knew this 'suggestion' of Dumbledore's for what it was: an instruction. A demand. Severus wasn't meant to think it over, to ponder it and reject it because he would never, ever wish to teach a classroom full of eleven year old dunderheads. Severus, who had recently completed his Mastery in potions- and was now the youngest qualified potions Master in England- was expected to apply for the potions position, to be awarded the position, and to take it with a smile on his dour face all so Headmaster McGonagal could keep a bloody fucking eye on him.

Severus paced his little room in a seething rage.

The old man was deciding his path in life for him and he hated it. He stubbed his cigarette too hard in the ashtray, grabbed his wand, zapped the fucking flies with far too much force and blew a small hole in his ceiling.

Then, dutifully, because obviously he had no real choice in the matter, Severus sat down at his desk and using a ball point pen and a scrap of paper from a composition book, Severus wrote a quick letter.

Headmistress McGonagal,

It is I, Severus Snape. I am, against my will, applying for the Potion's position. I'll have you know that I am mean, nasty, and completely unfit for teaching. I will gladly eat quaking first years for breakfast. Do not hire me. I'm one knut short of becoming a mad man. If forced into this position I will assuredly snap.

-Severus Snape

P.S. If the old man insists that you hire me then at least consider me for the DADA position so that I might be cursed and die within the year. It will be a great relief for me and half the wizarding world can throw a real rager that that slimy, awful, Ex Death Eating scum Severus Snape has met his demise. The prat had no business teaching children anyway.

Severus practically threw Fawkes, letter attached to his ankle, out his bedroom window and into the night.

-x-

Severus got the fucking job- for Potions. His life was officially over.

Talk as he might about eating children for breakfast he was really quite full of dread at this idea of his new life as a bloody teacher. He knew from experience how horrible school children were and he was barely older than the seventh years. As it were there were students who would still remember him from school- would remember how horribly he'd been bullied and humiliated, and Severus had no desire to try and teach the little urchins especially when they'd have absolutely no respect for him. Imagine teaching a room full of Gryffindors as a known ex-Death Eater.

Severus Snape hated his life.

He came into Madam Malkin's glaring and half expecting her to throw him out- to refuse to work with 'his lot'. His black eyes practically bored holes through the kind Madam Malkin who did not throw him out on his bony arse after all.

“Teaching robes?” she said, while taking his measurements, “Merlin, but you're thin. Eat a sandwich, dear.”

Severus ignored the comment on his scrawniness.

“Teaching robes, as impossible as that is to believe,” Severus snapped, “me- they've hired me.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine,” Madam Malkin said.

“I'd like to be dressed as though I'm attending a funeral,” Severus said, rather dramatically, “my own, specifically. I want to make sure the little snots are intimidated by me. Merlin knows there won't be any other way to cow them into obedience. Brats, all of them.”

Except his snakes, of course.

“I want to look like death itself,” Severus said, still on a roll with the dramatics.

“That won't be difficult with your complexion,” Madam Malkin said, “are you sure you're well?”

“Not at all,” Severus quipped. He thought about how short he was- and how the older students would find him someone easy to run over if he doesn't nip that right away. He would need to purchase boots with heels, possibly spelled to make him appear a bit taller, and then he would learn to loom. Height be damned.

He was in a very foul mood and stewing over all of these things as Madam Malkin continued to measure him. It was then that the bell over the shop door tinkled and someone else walked in.

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

In Which Albus Dumbledore Ruins Severus Snape's Life.

Where: Madam Malkins

Who: Open//

Severus tipped his head back against the nicotine stained wall and zapped a couple flies that were buzzing round the ceiling. It was 3AM and his insomnia was hitting him hard. A migraine was throbbing right between his eyes. They crossed as a fly buzzed particularly close to his hooked nose and he raised his wand- zap!

The more things change, Severus thought, the more they stay the same. He'd been sat on his poor excuse for a bed with it's poky springs and thin, stained, mattress since he was a boy zapping at flies in the summer. He watched a couple of them land along the edge of a brown water stain on the ceiling. They started to fuck. Severus sneered at them- little perverts. He thought about zapping them too but then he decided to have a shred of mercy and at least let them finish first. He thought also about fixing the water stain but then- why? The house was a piece of shite with all of it's piece-of-shite memories. It might as well stay that way. It's wasn't worth his effort or his magic to improve it.

Severus laid his wand aside on his leaning bedside table. The ashtray there was a chipped avocado green relic from the late '60's and was positively overflowing with cigarette butts and ash. Severus reached for his pack and his lighter. He hung a cigarette between his frowning lips and lighted it with the cracked plastic Bic. He could have well lit it with his wand but there was something more satisfying about clicking the Muggle lighter. He continued to click it idly as he smoked and grew bigger, more purpley, eye bags just for the hell of it. He blew the smoke in rings up towards the fucking flies.

Just then a tapping noise came against his window.

Severus rolled off the creaking bed and walked lazily to the window. It was the distinct tapping of an owl but who would be owling him at this time of night? Or rather, morning. Severus rubbed his eyes once and then opened the window. It wasn't an owl- it was a phoenix.

Severus was immediately on high alert. He intercepted the letter from the phoenix's ankle and motioned for it to perch on the edge of his desk while he read its offering.

My Dear Boy,

It's been quite a long night and I was just having tea before bed when I remembered I ought to owl you. I was curious if you'd seen that job opening in the Daily Prophet today. I have attached a copy of the posting and I suggest you consider it very strongly. The war may be over but the battle between Light and Dark is an ever continuing theme in the wizarding world, and in many of our lives- yours especially, I think. I really would hate for you, Severus, to get into any trouble after I've gone to such lengths to spare you from Azkaban for your original affiliations during the war. If there is any way that you might repay such kindness, dear boy, it is by keeping your nose clean. I think it would do you well to have Minerva looking after you- keeping you on your toes as it were. I believe you must grow, and you must learn, Severus, from the foolish mistakes of your not-so-distant past. And what better place to grow, and to learn, than at Hogwarts?

-Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Minister for Magic

Severus sneered at the letter. What was the old man on about? Hogwarts? And how dare he suggest that Severus needed someone- Minerva McGonagal- to mind him as though he were a child?

Severus' black gaze darted to the Dark Arts tomes that were currently stacked, one of them opened, on the edge of his desk. Fawkes was, in fact, perched upon them as if to further highlight his perceived misdeed of studying something that most people simply misunderstood. Severus rolled his eyes and sighed.

He unrolled the copy of the Prophet which had been sent with the letter and pawed through the pages until he reached the jobs postings.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is currently accepting applications for the following positions: Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions. Experienced and interested persons may owl Headmistress McGonagal if interested.

Severus' migraine pounded harder.

Severus knew this 'suggestion' of Dumbledore's for what it was: an instruction. A demand. Severus wasn't meant to think it over, to ponder it and reject it because he would never, ever wish to teach a classroom full of eleven year old dunderheads. Severus, who had recently completed his Mastery in potions- and was now the youngest qualified potions Master in England- was expected to apply for the potions position, to be awarded the position, and to take it with a smile on his dour face all so Headmaster McGonagal could keep a bloody fucking eye on him.

Severus paced his little room in a seething rage.

The old man was deciding his path in life for him and he hated it. He stubbed his cigarette too hard in the ashtray, grabbed his wand, zapped the fucking flies with far too much force and blew a small hole in his ceiling.

Then, dutifully, because obviously he had no real choice in the matter, Severus sat down at his desk and using a ball point pen and a scrap of paper from a composition book, Severus wrote a quick letter.

Headmistress McGonagal,

It is I, Severus Snape. I am, against my will, applying for the Potion's position. I'll have you know that I am mean, nasty, and completely unfit for teaching. I will gladly eat quaking first years for breakfast. Do not hire me. I'm one knut short of becoming a mad man. If forced into this position I will assuredly snap.

-Severus Snape

P.S. If the old man insists that you hire me then at least consider me for the DADA position so that I might be cursed and die within the year. It will be a great relief for me and half the wizarding world can throw a real rager that that slimy, awful, Ex Death Eating scum Severus Snape has met his demise. The prat had no business teaching children anyway.

Severus practically threw Fawkes, letter attached to his ankle, out his bedroom window and into the night.

-x-

Severus got the fucking job- for Potions. His life was officially over.

Talk as he might about eating children for breakfast he was really quite full of dread at this idea of his new life as a bloody teacher. He knew from experience how horrible school children were and he was barely older than the seventh years. As it were there were students who would still remember him from school- would remember how horribly he'd been bullied and humiliated, and Severus had no desire to try and teach the little urchins especially when they'd have absolutely no respect for him. Imagine teaching a room full of Gryffindors as a known ex-Death Eater.

Severus Snape hated his life.

He came into Madam Malkin's glaring and half expecting her to throw him out- to refuse to work with 'his lot'. His black eyes practically bored holes through the kind Madam Malkin who did not throw him out on his bony arse after all.

“Teaching robes?” she said, while taking his measurements, “Merlin, but you're thin. Eat a sandwich, dear.”

Severus ignored the comment on his scrawniness.

“Teaching robes, as impossible as that is to believe,” Severus snapped, “me- they've hired me.”

“I'm sure you'll do fine,” Madam Malkin said.

“I'd like to be dressed as though I'm attending a funeral,” Severus said, rather dramatically, “my own, specifically. I want to make sure the little snots are intimidated by me. Merlin knows there won't be any other way to cow them into obedience. Brats, all of them.”

Except his snakes, of course.

“I want to look like death itself,” Severus said, still on a roll with the dramatics.

“That won't be difficult with your complexion,” Madam Malkin said, “are you sure you're well?”

“Not at all,” Severus quipped. He thought about how short he was- and how the older students would find him someone easy to run over if he doesn't nip that right away. He would need to purchase boots with heels, possibly spelled to make him appear a bit taller, and then he would learn to loom. Height be damned.

He was in a very foul mood and stewing over all of these things as Madam Malkin continued to measure him. It was then that the bell over the shop door tinkled and someone else walked in.

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Dreams of Petty Revenge

Where: Outside The Lion's Den.

Who: Open//

Severus hadn't meant to stop and look at it. He'd meant to move on instead of lingering outside The Lion's Den. It was probably not the best place for him. He could only imagine the kind of riffraff that hung around- Potter and his lot, no doubt, who would just love to burst out of the pub at any moment and hex his face off. But it was there- the motorbike.

There it was the chrome winking in the sun like a hot eyeball and Severus was stopped dead in the road with his apothecary bags in one hand, a cigarette smoldering in the other, imagining with great relish how he could hex that fucking motorbike. It was, of course, that specific motorbike which he recognized as belonging to Black. He went through a list of hexes in his mind that would make for an interesting outcome but he made no move to actually do the thing. After all, he wasn't looking for trouble. But oh, even if he just messed with the bike by simple Muggle means. It would feel so good to just give it a great push and watch it topple over. He imagined a patch of scratches marring the shining surface of the gas tank and Severus sneered.

He hung his cigarette between his thin, curling, lips and his fingers twitched with desire to cause the bike harm. It's fine, Severus thought. It isn't necessary to take out my pent up rage on a defenseless object. I'm not that petty. Immediately his inner voice said: yes, you are.

And what if he just pissed on it?

Well, certainly not in broad daylight on a street full of bustling people, but Severus could dream.

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Intro

Hello. My name is Jerry. Pronouns he/him. I'm rping as Severus Snape. I'm not sure what else I'm meant to put in the introduction. I write fanfic and paint portraits. I've been in the Harry Potter fandom for a long time and I used to rp for several years but took a break from it for a couple years. I'm glad to be back and I'm excited to play as Severus. I'm going to post a couple of starters and leave them open. Please follow me!

@loyal-longbottom @not-sirius @lilyebba @dromedax @heartlessbella @ofcarrowx @yamineleanora @tedsxtonks @siriusblacx @james-prongstter @mareneseld @ofemine @minsithewolf @praveenaezhil @mar-mckinnon @elijah-nott @xofalice

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Dark magic aesthetic

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

SARKEM 

by gozien_crayon

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Corvid studies  

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

school assignment, making a storybook illustration for a quote. i chose watership down.

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

Fredrik Eytzinger, trans., Salomonic Magical Arts: Being two Swedish Books of the Black Art, comprising The Red Book and The Black Book (Richmond Vista, CA: Three Hands Press, 2013). Special Edition. Full mottled red and black goatskin binding, marbled endpapers, with slipcase. Limited to 23 copies. https://www.ebay.com/itm/254532299388

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

🌗🌘🌒🌓🌔.

[thehalfbloodprinc3]

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[thehalfbloodprinc3]