Severus Snape POPs! Open RP.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

The Unpopcorning of Severus Snape
approved by the mods, etc.

He was coiled small, his knees pressed to his forehead, his forearms pressed close to the outsides of his calves. It must be so. How else could he be so compact, so dense? It was dark. It was silent, and the only difference was an occasional disorienting tumbling when some small earthquake rolled him over and over down a very rocky hill. He didn't understand why he couldn't put out a hand or foot to stop himself on these occasions. And sometimes he detected from the force of gravity that he was upside-down and he wondered why the blood did not rush to his head.

It was always as if he had just curled up, but time must have passed because he noted events - the variations of sudden rolling, the occasional temperature changes. Could it be a petrification spell? But that would not have rendered him blind, or deaf. What was it? Sometimes he tried to puzzle it out, to count occasions of movement, but he lost track, conciousness, concentration. That was not like him at all, and he wondered at himself. It must be a curse, but there was no pain.

The temperature rose. Higher this time. He was surprised he wasn't sweating, his robe clinging to him, but he was able to detect no robe. Was he naked? No.... Merlin, it was hot. And he felt so... tight. Why couldn't he move? He expected his breath to arrest with the heat, his lungs to seize with the pressure. But he did not seem to be breathing. Pressure? He seemed to be... Was it infection, a swelling within him? No pain. No pain. He was confused.

Merlin. He felt... Why didn't he ache? Why didn't it hurt? Dark curses he could understand. He had invented enough, felt enough, but...

Then suddenly he was aware. It smelled like a fair... He had once been to a fair. He unclenched his arms from his legs, straightened his spine, curled around himself, lifted his head and...

BANG! There was an explosion beneath him, no through him, no... It was too sudden to analyse. Severus was launched into the air, his arms and legs thrown splayed, his hair flung up and spread wide, his mouth open in a wide O of almost shock, though it was not unpleasant, more startling. He crashed down into a pile of hard yellow kernals, bruising his skin , so tight over his bones. And now his black robes stuck wet to him, no, not wet...

He passed his hand through the hair soaking over his face, sticking and obscuring his vision, dripping into his eyes. Rich shining yellow drops flew behind him, almost beautiful. A door. There was a door. He waded over to it and was surprised to find it unlocked. It was the old stone corridor of Hogwarts. He wandered out disoriented, hoping to find the dungeons.

Comments

[lemondrop-party.livejournal.com]

(( "He passed his hand through the hair soaking over his face, sticking and obscuring his vision, dripping into his eyes. Rich shining yellow drops flew behind him, almost beautiful." Hee, you've made butter practically lyrical! ))

Albus Dumbledore did not make a habit of loafing around outside the popcorn room. He did circulate throughout the school, regularly, trying to keep his finger on Hogwarts' elusive and fitful pulse.

Happy chance brought him to the vicinity of the popcorn room just as a butter-slick Severus Snape lurched out.

He froze a moment, taken aback, then strode quickly and gladly to the side of his old comrade-in-arms — he who'd given more to the cause of good, in the end, than most people Albus could remember or imagine. Many had given their lives; Severus had given his life long before it was taken from him.

"Do not be afraid," he said gently. The post-popcorn state could be frightening.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Severus started at the voice. It was a friendly voice, and he was surprised that he would find a voice friendly. he turned, his foot skidding gracefully in some of the butter-slick he had left in his wake. Albus. He tried his voice, wondering if it had rusted numb. "Albus."

Yes, it worked. He tried again. "Albus." He hesitates. He is not exactly afraid, but more... at a loss. He imediately identified and resented the feeling. But his old friend's presence was reassuring. He was beginning to remember him. "Have I missed something... unique? inexplicable?" He stepped backward, carefully so as not to fall, and even more determined not to cover his robes in this... grease. his hair dripped in points that trailed down his own clothing.

[lemondrop-party.livejournal.com]

It occurred to Albus that as far as Severus knew, Albus ought to be dead.

He did not believe for one moment that this Severus remembered anything that had happened during the past year, before he had become popcorn. Albus was by now well-acquainted with the popcorn phenomenon. He fully expected that Severus would now be confused and bewildered.

"You have been subject to an inexplicable process, yes, though it is far from unique. Hundreds here have undergone the same. You have been popcorn, Severus. Magical theory has no explanation yet for the phenomenon, nor do the Healers. It seems to go hand-in-hand with other changes Hogwarts has experienced."

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

"Albus... are we dead? Ghost? Ectoplasm? Is this ectoplasm?" It seemed a reasonable thought. I killed him. I thought I would never see him again. He glances down at his friend's hand, looking for the poison and curses he had tried to heal, had worked at determined and full of fear. He remembered that, and it was one more moment of clarity.

Would it be so, moments moving backward and forward in single shards? Would they coalesce? He thought of the ghosts he had known here. They had not seemed confused. How had he died himself? Or...

"Or have I been ill? I thought at first, it was a curse, but it didn't feel... dark." Did I lose my mind? Have I been mad for a time?

[lemondrop-party.livejournal.com]

Albus's hand, still withered and blackened, testified to the reality of the past he and Severus shared. Yes, it was all real. The horcrux; the poison; the desperate cure.

Later, the plotting and planning, the pact for Albus's own death. If friends help you move, and real friends help you move bodies, what is the kind of friend you would trust with your life and your death? What kind of loyalty does that require? What kind of faith, and how deep?

Yes. It was all real.

"You may have been ill. I cannot be sure what happened after my death. Yet what covers you is not ectoplasm, and I assure you, Severus, neither you or I are dead at present. You have been popcorn, and you now carry a residue of butter, that is all."

[ijk-mno.livejournal.com]

"Are you alright?"

L knows exactly how disorienting the popcorn experience can be. It doesn't take a detective (even though he is one) to put two and two together and figure out that that's where he got his butter coating from.

The detective approaches at a comfortable (barefoot) pace, hands shoved in his pockets.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Severus looks at the barefoot young man. He is not a child though, cannot be a student. "Yes. I believe so. Thank you for asking. Professor Snape." Is he still a professor? He has no idea. He holds to that of which he last was certain and tries to summon some dripping dignity. "I am Professor Snape."

He places his feet very carefully and stands straight, his hands smoothing his slick robes. "And who may you be, please?" He hopes the man has not been a close acquaintance or friend, that he will find the query ridiculous, that it will not reveal his lack of orientation. Or his madness, he thinks wryly.

[ijk-mno.livejournal.com]

"Call me Ryuuzaki."

L's expression reveals no easy familiarity, and no puzzlement. But then, L's expression seldom reveals much, aside from the occasional smile, or glare. Still, this version of him has never met Professor Snape.

"Do you know where you are?"

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Perhaps if he were mad, this was one of his wardens. He decided that straightforward replies were best to the small questions, as if he had had concussion. "Ryuuzaki." He pronounced the unfamiliar name precisely and carefully. "I am Professor Seerus Snape and I am at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He realised he did not know the answer to the next question - the time and date. He was cautious, in case this might be used against him. Then he wondered if he was guilty of paranoia.

[charlesofdensen.livejournal.com]

It says something that Ofdensen kept a straight face at being face to face with Professor Snape and not thrown something. (He had been in the Snape-was-evil camp, and hadn't read Deathly Hallows by the time he came here.)

"Good afternoon, professor."

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

"Good afternoon." Severus smiles stiffly, a little nervous. The man is hiding something and Snape doesn't know what it is, nor what is going on. (He has not read Deathly Hallows either, and has a certain sympathy for both camps, though he is absolutely loyal.)

[charlesofdensen.livejournal.com]

"I was not aware that you had been popcorned, I thought Dumbledore was the only former staff left after McGonagall popped." He found that out when he found out about 3/5ths of Dethklok popping. "I'm sorry to say this, but your position's filled."

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Even though Severus hadn't expected it, after the scene on the tower, his spirits dropped a little. Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had wanted it so long. Would he have a place here then? "I have told I have been popcorn." He nods, feigning awareness. He thinks a conversational tone best. "How has Professor McGonaall been?"

[woocha.livejournal.com]

On the other hand, Wishbone knew he was good. Also, the smell of popcorn always was a good thing. A new person.

Hi, Professor Snape!

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Severus smiled freely at the dog and knelt to pet him, albeit awkwardly. He had not had the acquaintance of many friendly dogs, but here at least he knew where he was. He didn't know the dog personally, but he was glad for something simple and easy. Also, he was covered in butter and happy to be licked clean(er) and to offer popcorn fair-flavour if it was desired. "Good dog. There's a good dog."

[woocha.livejournal.com]

Wishbone laughed at Snape petting him. Sure, he gets petted often, but it feels a little weird when that hand was buttery! Wishbone couldn't help it, he stuck his tongue out, trying to catch Snape's hand to lick it.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

He has been told how to meet a strange dog and belatedly holds his hand turned back out for Wishbone to smell, easy to lick. He seemed to Severus to be excited but friendly. He does not draw back at the dog-laugh, but ceases dripping butter in the white fur. That must be strange to him, Snape thinks.

[gamerspy.livejournal.com]

"... hey. You okay?"

This seems to happen every time Matt walks past the Popcorn Room, these days.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Severus looks right, looks left, straightens, stiffens and pretends he is not slimy and shedding golden droplets. He pretends he knows exactly what is going on. "Certainly. Why do you ask?"

[gamerspy.livejournal.com]

"You're covered in butter," Matt points out. "Most of the people you meet covered in butter have lost their memories or whatever. And even if you haven't, you're still... covered in butter."

Matt has mad observational skillz.

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Well, there is no point in denying it and his hurriedly prepared suggestion of a student's potion assignment gone terribly wrong is dashed. Perhaps it is the latest curse making the rounds. Others seem to have been victims also, from this boy's words. Severus looks again. He does not look familiar. Perhaps he does suffer from the memory loss of whish the boy is speaking. His eyebrows raise of their own accord and his lips close tight.

"Nothing a little soap won't cure." He tries to ask the boy something, but cannot think of a pertinent query. He has no idea of time, season, schedule or location. "Now, I must finish my work on the counter-spell."

[unbittenapple.livejournal.com]

Bella's first thought at the explosion is shock it didn't happen to her, as so many accidents do. There's scales, of course; her clumsiness when it comes to any sport requiring hand-eye coordination being on the bottom, getting a papercut whilst surrounded by a group of vampires in the middle, nearly drowning coming top. She turns, spinning wildly, dark hair arcing in the air. The corridor is silent for a second--

And then Laurent (http://www.twilightlexiconblog.com/?p=41) stumbles out. Bella blinks, and shakes her head. No, Laurent was killed--killed by the werewolves. And now she looks closer, Laurent would never have allowed his hair to get so greasy, and he was certainly the most attractive of the coven--but nevertheless, this man reminds her--somehow--of a vampire. Perhaps it's the black robes.

The black robes also make her think everything's under control. Bella's pretty unflappable and can be a complete idiot at times.

'Can I help you?' she asks clearly, approaching him with care. Thinking of werewolves reminded her of what happened to Emily when she'd walked in on Sam unexpected, when he was in a rage. The girl has three long scars cruelly dragging the corners of her eye and mouth down. 'Is there anywhere you're looking for?'

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

Severus looks at the young woman, shaking his head, then abruptly stops, not wishing the confusion of spattering her. Hogwarts? Yes... Hogwarts. Where else would he be? He is extremely greasy, even for him, and quite uncomfortable. Nevertheless he draws himself up straight and tries to straighten the robe clinging to his chest and plastered to his legs. The fabric slides on itself stuck. He starts to frown, then turns his attention back to Bella.

He smiles, showing his teeth, though not in a threatening way - he is attempting to feign friendliness in his general disorientation. "Perhaps, you might direct me to the Slytherin dungeons, if you would?" Home. He can wash in familiar surroundings.

[unbittenapple.livejournal.com]

Fallen at the first hurdle. Bella blushes. Yeah, she hasn't really been out of her room much. Edward's so mindblowingly smothering overprotective. In her confusion, though, she can note that he doesn't look well even to her eyes.

'Sorry--I don't know where they are,' she mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. 'What with, the, um, staircases, and well, I've never even seen a sign for a Potions lesson...'

[methleigh.livejournal.com]

She must be very new. Or a visitor. It occurs to him that it is possible no one is more new than himself. He feels very stiff. And slippery. He moves his feet very carefully on the now-slick stone.

"Might you know the location of any bath?" Even a visitor must need to bathe. He frowns at himself inside, showing he does not have any idea himself. He can use a cleaning spell on his robes, but not in public and not while marinating as he is. It is good for the skin, he reminds himself yet again.