Bewitch My Mind, a Snape x OC HPRP

[Aureate Aura]

This is a fanmade fiction, and neither I, nor Severusx, do claim ownership of JK Rowling's work. All rights to the characters found in the Harry Potter series belong to their rightful owner. Sev owns the Trist, however, and I did take some liberties of my own, but still, don't sue us, please! D:​

"I don't know how you did it, but you may as well use these persuasive skills of yours to make my eldest daughter see the proper way, don't you? After all, she is quite fond of..."
"And what exactly are you implying, Edmund? ...Fine, I will watch over the girl, but I promise nothing."
Edmund Trist & Severus Snape, September 1st, 1982.

​

Bewitch My Mind
A 1x1 roleplay presented to you by:


Severusx

and

Aureate Aura
​

The Scottish weather was obscenely fair and the stars grotesquely bright that night as the starry eyed simpletons that called themselves his students filled in in an haphazard manner into the Great Hall of Hogwarts School and Wizardry for the Welcoming Feast that was held in their dubious honor. These snot-nosed cretins looked cheerful, carefree, even, as they chit chatted about their useless existence while his heart was still in agony over the death of his beloved Lily. His soul yearned for the cold touch of death, to be liberated from this grueling existence and to finally be allowed to be by his first love's side as it did ever since that cursed night when his whole world shattered like a crystal phial upon the cold stone of his dungeons when he learned he had led his beloved friend to her death.

I could not be, however. No, it was far too merciful for wretched, poor and filthy Snivellus, far too good for someone who had the brand of a madman's upon his forearm. He would have to make due with drinking nightly doses of dreamless sleep potions and a liberal amount of firewhiskey when neither his new employer nor the banes of his existence were there to witness his weakness. That way he could nearly fool himself... but not quite. Never enough, this was the story of his life.

The glum dark wizard was pulled out of his dark thought when his unfocused dark gaze caught the entrance of the other female weighting upon his tormented mind. This one was a few years younger than he, and quite alive still. Yet, she still was as out of his reach as any other ever was, Snape remembered morosely. It did not matter what he wanted, for no one would want him back, not truly. Both his father and these blasted marauders had made sure he knew that.

Lesson learned, bastards that they were.

As such, the gaunt young professor turned back to his plate and awaited the end of this farce of a celebration, laid in wait for the time he could escape this odious pit of naivete and lick his still stinging wound in peace. Alone, as he had always been.
​

...​

The next morning...

His latest batch of skelegro potion was bubling softly in his private laboratory as Severus let his seventh year NEWT students into his domain, not wasting time with empty niceties and getting right into the material he had to teach. There was no time to waste, for mastery of the delicate and enchanting art of Potions was a slow and rather tricky process. More so when one was so full of hormones as the teenagers he had to teach. As such, with a wave of his wand, the board filled itself with elaborate and neatly written instructions as the tall master of the dungeons took his seat behind his desk.

"I expect each of you to have completed your summertime project adequately, as well as to have studied ahead for this lesson if you are ever to have the merest chance of earning your NEWTs for this subject. Now, enough chit-chat and get to work." With a sneering glare at the assembled students, from all four houses, though he was secretly pleased to see that most of them were his Slytherins, Snape turned his coal-colored gaze towards the pile of summer homework he was to grade, the pile of poorly phrased idiocies obtained from his third year Hufflepuff/Gryffindor class half an hour prior.​

 

[Opossum My Possum]

The hallway was dark, empty, and cold. It made Atropa shiver in fear- she couldn't see anything except the fire blazing in the living room at the end of the hall.
It cast a warm glow along the walls, and Atropa could feel the heat coming from it. She wanted to get closer, to get warm by it.
As she made her way down the dark hall, she felt as if time was going slowly, as if it was in slow motion.
The hall began to twist and spin, making her dizzy, making her fall to her knees and close her eyes.
It couldn't actually be happening- it had to be a trick of the dark.
As she sat with her eyes closed, her heart beat was loud in her ears, she could feel it pounding frantically in her chest.
Atropa felt that her chest would explode for sure.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again, and everything was normal. She stood, making sure to glance behind her in case someone was there.
The back of her neck felt warm and moist, as if someone was breathing on it. Turning once again, she saw that the hall was empty behind her, but she continued to feel as if someone- or something- was watching her.

Deciding she'd rather deal with whatever was at the warm end of the hallway, Atropa began to run towards the fire, and away from whatever was behind her.
Breathless, she reached the living room, and realized that she'd been in her own home all along.

Her parents sat by the fire, drinking wine and smiling at her. The light was odd, and made them look pale, almost blue.
"It's time." Her father said flatly, getting up and walking to the fire.
Atropa's mother walked to her and grabbed her arm, holding it out in front of her.

"What--" Atropa began to question, and then her father turned with a brand in his hand.
It was the Dark Lord's symbol and he was going to brand it on her arm.
She would forever be known as a Death Eater.

"No! Please! No!" She screamed, struggling against them.
As he came forward, she felt the sizzle of her skin as it burned and blistered under the hot branding iron.

--

And then she woke up, covered in sweat, in her bed at Hogwarts. Her heart was pounding loudly and she couldn't breathe properly.
Sighing, she pushed the hair from her face and slid her legs off the side of her bed.
It was dawn, and she'd have to be up in a few hours to go to class anyway, so as usual, she decided to get up now.
Nightmares had become a regular thing for her, and they'd been keeping her up or waking her up much earlier than usual as of late.

Atropa had always been pale, but now she looked a bit sick, and there were large bags under her eyes.
She'd lost weight, and you could tell. Her uniform hung on her 5'5 frame.
Of course, she'd never been fat, but she'd had more curves than a lot of other girls in her year, and now she was almost as thin as they were.

Pushing herself up out of bed, Atropa gathered her bathroom supplies and made her way quietly to the showers.
It was actually quite perfect to be up at this time- no one else was around to bully her.
Sliding off her nightgown, she stepped under the hot water and smiled. It felt good on her cold skin.

After she'd washed and shaved, she got out and did a quick drying spell on herself, saving time so she could get out before other girls began to file in.
Her uniform had been cleaned recently, and smelled like her coconut perfume she used at home.

When she'd pulled on her last shoe, she could hear the sounds of the other girls waking up, and her heart began to race.
Quickly, she gathered her things and ran from the bathrooms and back to her dorm, to her bed.
Atropa put her things away and grabbed her bag, eager to get to her first class of the day- Potions.

--

She'd taken her time getting to class because she preferred to stay away from the other students.
The Slytherins, at least. Ravenclaw students were always quite nice to her, and so were Hufflepuff.
Gryffindor were against her because she was in Slytherin, and they didn't care enough to get to know her.
So she took the long way to class, and stayed in the shadows, but even so, she still managed to get attacked.

Atropa was almost to the Potions classroom, when a group of Slytherin girls spotted her.
Giggling like idiots, they stepped in front of her, and the leader- a girl named Silver- pushed her against the wall.
"Oh look, girls! It's Atropa! I bet she's soooo excited to get to class. Maybe we'll spill some boil potion on her."
Grinning, Silver gazed down at Atropa, who had shrunk back against the wall.

"L-Leave me alone.. I haven't done anything to you!" Atropa called out meekly, gazing at Silver for a moment.
And even that little bit of back talk was too much for Silver, who slapped Atropa hard across the face, leaving a large red mark.
Silver and her gang turned and sauntered off, laughing to themselves, and Atropa stood still for a moment, stunned as she put her hand to the mark on her cheek.

Tears began to gather in her eyes, but she forced herself to walk to class- barely arriving on time.
She was last to arrive, and she took a seat in the back as usual.
Atropa held her head down and bit back the tears, not wanting to cry in front of everyone.