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Post by ETHAN SEVERIN SNAPE on Apr 25, 2011 18:02:29 GMT
  Ethan really didn't want to go. However, since his father was being forced into going, he knew there was no way he could weasle out of it. His father was going to be just as pleased as he was, he was sure. Rolling his eyes, he gave a great sigh. Dumbledore could be a massive pain in the side. That was putting it nicely and mildly. He didn't want to go to this gala to begin with. Then he was paired with Hermione Granger of all people? She was one of Potter's friends and to be quite honest, he held absolutely no interest in her. She was smart, it was true, but other than that she had nothing much going for her. She wasn't attractive. She was plain and about as interesting as the studies that she threw herself into. Still, he knew that she probably was about as enthusiastic about her date as he was. Trust Dumbledore to annoy even the most undeserving of people. Rolling his bi-colored eyes, the Slytherin boy gave a great sigh. This was going to be one hell of a long night. Maybe, if he were lucky, he'd end up getting ill and would be unable to go. Maybe he could fake it. Somehow, he thought his father would know if he were doing the latter and he would probably be reproving of the lie. Especially since if he couldn't use that excuse, then neither could Ethan. The Slytherin wanted to bang his head against the wall until he lost conciousness. It would certainly get him from going to the ball. The negative of that was the adverse affects might cause him to gain some brain damage then he might be as stupid as Crabbe or Goyle. He couldn't chance that. Losing his intellect would be one of the worst things that could happen to him. He didn't have much else. He had some looks, yes, but he didn't count on his pretty face getting him many places in life. Especially considering his rarity to smile. He didn't have many friends. No, if any man were an island beside Severus - it was him. So he had to hold onto his intelligence. If he didn't - then he would have nothing going for him. That wasn't something he would tolerate. Like Severus, there wasn't much that Ethan did tolerate. He didn't like stupidity yet he didn't like know-it-all's and people who thought they were never wrong. Especially when the two were in combination. That was painful and tiresome. He didn't like people who were too competitive and he didn't like people who put far too much emphasis on things that didn't matter like Quidditch or frivolous activities like Chess Club or the Gobstones Club. He didn't like it when people went sloshing through the mud and got him dirty whether or not they did it on purpose or not. He didn't like it when people gave him a hairy eye ball for something they did that was their fault, but they decided to blame it on him, anyway. He didn't like it when people picked fights with him nor did he like it when people argued over useless things. He didn't like it when Potter insisted that his mother didn't want him and he didn't like it when Potter mentioned his mother, at all. He didn't like the Potter's and he didn't like most of Potter's idiotic friends. He didn't like being told no or being told that he was wrong, and he hated apologizing. In fact, the list could have gone on and on for years if it were to list all of the things that Ethan found rather deplorable and irritating. The list of things he liked was significantly shorter. He liked solace, he liked silence, he liked Potions and Charms, he liked most of his classes, he liked being alone, he liked dancing [not that he was apt to admit this], he liked order and control, and he liked being right. He also liked intelligence, intelligent conversation, people as witty as he was, and he had a penchant for redheads. Surely, he liked more things, but some of the things he liked he would either never admit to or people wouldn't even bother to consider. For example, he was especially fond of the scent of lilies, his favorite flower was the violet, and he used shampoo that smelled of honeysuckle. Though, many of his classmates insisted that his hair was greasy and unwashed simply because Severus' hair sometimes looked rather nasty. Though, one couldn't blame his father for that. He would love to see how some of the students cooped with being a double agent for Merlin's sake. Rolling his eyes, he ran his hands through his silky black locks. They were just jealous because his hair was pretty. The Slytherin stood before his mirror, considering what he should wear. He wasn't about to dress in expensive suits like some of his other peers. He pulled on a nice grey dress shirt, a nice black vest, a pair of black dress slacks, a pair of trainers, and a pair of black socks. He also put on the only things of color - a red bow tie (he wasn't wearing a real tie to a stupid social ball), and an emerald ring. The ring was something that belonged to his grandmother Eileen [though, it had to have belonged to her father as it was a man's ring], and something he had found when looking through a deserted room in Spinner's End. He didn't know if his father had noticed he had taken it, but he also knew that if his father had a problem with it, he would likely voice it. Ethan twisted the ring around his finger until he was satisfied with the way it laid on his ring finger. He polished it with his wand so that the emerald would glimmer in the light bound to attract the attention of others. It wasn't often that Ethan tried to draw attention to himself (as he generally preferred to fade into the background), but if he had to go to this bloody ball, he was going to try to look as nice as his peers - if not better. Ethan looked at the mirror and smirked. He looked a lot better than Potter did. Of that, he was certain. Strutting like a peacock with his feather's raised, Ethan strode confidently out of the Slytherin boy's dormitory through the Common Room and out into the hall. There seemed to be a bit of a bustle as everyone seemed to be ready at the same time. His height, however, gave him an advantage and he parted through the crowd (some of which were older than him) and took off down the corridors that led him to the Great Hall. He then sauntered into the Great Hall, visually sifting through the crowd, but Granger wasn't there yet. With a nonchalant shrug, he made some noncommital noise in the back of his throat, and grabbed a cup of punch. Merlin knew he was thirsty of all a sudden. Standing off to the side yet isolated from others, he let out a small contented sigh. At least, he was alone, even if that only lasted for a matter of seconds.  |
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Post by HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER on Apr 29, 2011 4:33:59 GMT
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -BECAUSE I DON'T REALLY LIKE YOUI DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T CARE GET A CLUE[/FONT] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/center] She had no time to dance; why would she do that when she could spend the evening working ahead in her classes? Hermione had never been what one would call social. Of course, she wanted to make a few friends, but she was satisfied with Harry, Ron and the few others she did have. This wouldn’t be so difficult if she’d been paired with one of them, she told herself. But no, fate had other plans for her. Whoever ran the universe decided it’d be funny to pair her with Ethan Snape. Now, Hermione had never spoken more than two words to Ethan; they were in separate houses and years after all. Still, he was a Slytherin and probably held that nasty opinion of her that they all did. The thought made her nervous, but she did a decent job of hiding it. None of the girls in her dormitory paid her any mind as they prepared for the dance, and that was just the way she liked it. She didn’t want the girls helping her look better or giving her ridiculous tips. No; she’d get through this and move on. Hermione doubted she’d ever speak with Ethan again anyways, so this was only the end of the world if she let it be.
With a sigh, she examined her appearance in the mirror. Her physical appearance wasn’t much. Everyone found it funny to tease her uncontrollable hair and large front teeth. Not that their opinions mattered to her. At Hogwarts, what was most important to her was her education; nothing else. So, if some of the twits here wanted to poke fun at her looks, she’d let them; it didn’t upset her in the least. Of course, she was lying to herself, but she’d never admit it. Tonight though was a bit different. One could argue that Hermione looked pretty. After over an hour of battling, she’d gained control of her hair. And, she was out of her Hogwarts uniform for once. In its place was a red dress. She wasn’t going to bother with makeup though. Hermione personally thought makeup was silly. That and, she didn’t feel the need to dress herself up for Ethan. She was simply dressing in proper attire for a dance. She was assuming he wasn’t going to be caring much about his attire either.
Hermione wasn’t ready to leave her dormitory yet. She was predicting this night would end in disaster. A scene of Ethan calling her a Mudblood and spilling punch on her kept replaying in her head and for a brief moment, she considered faking sickness. What would it matter if she abandoned ship on this? It certainly wasn’t Ethan’s dream night either. But then again, the know-it-all felt that this was a commitment she’d made of sorts, even if she hadn’t been fully supportive of it. It wouldn’t be mature to just not show up. And she’d like a coward if she didn’t. A Gryffindor certainly wasn’t a coward. Sending her hands through her curled hair, she let out her millionth sigh of the evening and let her dormitory. Passing through the door in the common room, she strode down the corridor, making her way towards the Great Hall.
Truthfully, she was hoping Ethan wouldn’t show. Maybe then she could spend a bit of time with someone she actually liked. The thought sounded pleasant and she assumed Harry wouldn’t mind too much. Shaking the thought off, Hermione tried to clear her head when she noticed all the people walking down the corridors beside her. It seemed nearly everyone had finished getting ready when she had. She always did seem to have bad sense of timing. Scanning the crowd as she walked, the bookworm wondered how she’d find Ethan in the mob. She hadn’t memorized his appearance or anything like that. For a second, she chuckled at the thought of she and Ethan searching for each other throughout the entire dance and not finding one another. Unfortunately, just as the smile came, it departed and was replaced by more anxious nerves. Hermione walked through the Great Hall slowly, as if she was approaching a hang man’s noose. This certainly felt like an execution.
Normally, Hermione enjoyed the spotlight, but that was when she knew the answer to the professors’ questions. This scenario couldn’t be farther from that. Pushing through the crowd of her peers was like war, and she kept her head down, trying not to attract any attention. Lifting her brown gaze for a moment, she laid eyes on an isolated corner of the room. She saw the punch and convinced herself she was thirsty. But, in honesty, Hermione saw an isolated corner she could hide in for the time being. Politely muttering a few “excuse me’s,” she pushed through the crowd of students, some younger and others older until she made it to her destination. Cautiously, she grabbed a cup of punch and took a small sip, enjoying the taste.
Hermione looked around and finally came to the realization that she wasn’t alone. Looking to the right, she saw a boy who looked familiar to her. The boy nearby was taller than her, but obviously younger. One could argue that he was underdressed, but he was actually cute, in her opinion. That was when it dawned on her. If her thoughts were correct (which they normally were) that was Ethan. Great. Her nerves were stronger than ever and a lump had formed in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she made a few small steps towards him, as if she were afraid he’d pounce on her. “Ethan Snape, right?”she asked him. Hermione hoped for the life of her this would just end quickly.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - STATUS: Complete
TAGGED: Ethan Snape.
WORDS: Enough.
OUTFIT: Think red dress in the Deathly Hallows movie.
NOTES: Sorry it took so long; I hope it's okay. I'm sure these two will have an interesting time.
LYRICS: SKYE SWEETNAM
CREDIT: RETRO GLAMOUR ! @ CAUTION 2.0
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Post by ETHAN SEVERIN SNAPE on Apr 29, 2011 12:58:21 GMT
Ethan generally didn't like galas. He didn't like people. He didn't like loud noises or crowded rooms. Yet here he was at the ball, but not of his own violition. If he had his way, this ball wouldn't even exist. What was the point of it, really? Girls were dressed up and flirting with boys, boys were trying to get into girls' pants so to speak, and the annoying chatter that would ruminate through the room was enough to make him want to throw up. People were unoriginal, stupid, and crude. He was so sick of hearing about contests of seeing how many girls a guy could sleep with or how many girls they could kiss in the progress of a week. Had people no morals or standards? It was disgusting. Not to mention they couldn't keep their depravity to themselves. No, they had to saunter around the hallowed halls of Hogwarts sharing news of their conquests until they were morphed into rumors and one could hardly believe what was heard. The validity of the gossip never seemed to phase the people spreading it. Though, Ethan was too intelligent to believe everything he heard. Some of the things that people said didn't even make sense, and he wondered if they even noticed how idiotic they sounded. Clearly not. If they did, they would have just kept their mouths firmly shut. No, that didn't seem an option for them. He wished that idiots would keep their mouths shut. It was better to be silent and thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt. Yet some people seemed ignorant of that knowledge. He was just sick of the general foolishness of his peers. Especially the people in his own house that were older than him. They were immature and stupid, and they oft seemed to throw temper tantrums. He certainly wished that they would grow out of it. Honestly, what made the spoiled and pampered rich pricks think that they had any influence once-so-ever? It wasn't like they were anyone or anything. They were simply students at Hogwarts. The sooner they understood that, the better. Their stupidity was really grating their nerves. He knew that he wasn't the most tolerant person in the world, but he shouldn't have to deal with imbeciles like them. They were complete and total dunderheads. Not to mention this whole blood purity nonsence was simply sutpid. People shouldn't be judged on what blood they had running through their veins. Rather, they should be judged on their magical talent. Something which some of his own House seemed to lack. He was thinking of Crabbe and Goyle who probably couldn't do even the simplest of charms without a bit of help. They were so thick that he wondered how they could possibly pass each year. Merlin knew they would probably never get a proper job once they graduated. They would probably just end up being the equivalent of a muggle bouncer for some wizarding club. Rolling his eyes at this thought, he shook his head. He knew that some people never would grow up, but he certainly wished that his house would. Not that they had to be buddy buddy with everyone, but they could afford to be civil. At least for the sake of appearances. Clearly, his house was lacking in brains. This annoyed him since Slytherins were supposed to be sly, clever, and ambitious. He wondered how many people in his house actually possessed those qualities. On second thought, he was sure that he didn't want to know. The answer would probably disappoint him. He heard a voice, and looked around. Ah, there she was, his date for the evening. Ethan nodded when she asked. "Yes, that's me." He was a good dancer, but a part of him hoped that she wouldn't want to dance. However, that was a ridiculous notion. What girl got dressed up for a ball and then decided that they didn't want to dance? None that he knew. Still, the social pariah knew that he couldn't stand there being nasty to her for the entire night. He would have to act like a gentleman, even if he really rather not. It was bad enough that he had gotten a Gryffindor. Not to mention this Gryffindor was one of Harry's friends, and he couldn't stand Potter. Hopefully, she wouldn't bring up her dear friend. Otherwise, he might just leave her standing alone on the dance floor. He knew that would be rude and probably uncalled for - but he couldn't tolerate stupidity. Especially not in the form of one bespectacled midgit with mussed up hair. He thought that as long as he didn't see Potter he would be fine. He had heard that Potter was paired with Chang. He couldn't stand Chang, either, and she couldn't stand him either (it would seem). So he thought the chances of running into that stupid couple were rather slim. "You must be Hermione, then?" he offered. He knew whom she was, but he thought it would be polite to give her the same courtesy as she gave him. He just hoped that she wouldn't comment on his eyes as so many people were prone to do. By now one would think he would be used to it, but one never really got used to people insulting their eyes. As much as they would like said comments to roll off their back, comments about his eyes always provoked him into an unforgiving rage. Potter seemed to take particular interest in taunting him about his eyes - one of which was black and the other which was green. People said it was 'creepy' or 'weird' as if he had any control of what color his eyes were (or in this case: colors). Still, he thought it was rude. He didn't understand why people had to be so thoughtless and so tactless. There really was no excuse for it. So what if he was Severus' son? That didn't mean they had the right to be completely ignorant to him. Though, they seemed to think otherwise. If he were lucky, this evening would end up passing by rather quickly. Then he could sit in his dormitory and brood in peace. That would be nice. Not having to deal with the hustle and bustle of this crowd would be more than nice in Ethan's book. He didn't like the idea of touching elbows with some sweaty person from another couple. The idea rupulsed him. He would be showering all night after this, he considered. Who knew what dirt and filth would be touching him? He didn't like the prospect, at all. He knew that his father couldn't be any happier about being there. His father was even more moody and irritable than he was than it came to social functions, believe or not. He let his eyes survey the crowd. Thankfully, he didn't see anyone whom he particularly disliked in his line of vision. That was always a nice thing. Otherwise, he may have ended up punching someone. In the end, though, he thought this evening would likely end in chaos. Ooh, goody. |
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