A/N : I don't like Authors Notes. They're against my religion. So is using
the correct form of its/it's. Really? No. But I don't like 'em. Anyway,
just don't come to expect Authors notes or proper grammar, and you won't be
disappointed. All I have to say right now is the Disclaimer: Sadly, I do
not own Harry Potter, although we all know I could do a better job than
J.K. any day.
Okay, so I lied. J.K. is a genius and I'm a thirteen-year-old wannabe. Oh well.
Note - I've edited this and reposted it; it was rather painful for even myself to look at before. Also, I've got the next chapter written, it should be up late today or tomorrow.
This man was not welcome.
"You deserted us, Severus. Ran when the coals grew hot and hid..." The man motioned towards the middle-class house around him distastefully. "...here."
"Apparently you did no different, Lucius, seeing as the dementors aren't breathing down your neck." Severus' lip curled. "And I am not hiding."
The returned smile was neither kind nor reassuring. "Whatever you say, /friend/."
A sudden clatter drew their attention from each other. At the base of the stairs a young girl was picking herself up, a guilty expression on her face. Apparently she'd been trying to sneak quietly down the stairs, but, as young children are prone to do, had slipped clumsily on one of the lower stairs.
Severus gave her a stern look, and the girl looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. "You're supposed to be going to sleep." Severus said in a low voice, shifting his gaze pointedly to the stairs.
Lucius laughed dryly. "Babysitting, Severus?" He caught the other mans gaze in his own. "Or is it perhaps your own? I wouldn't have thought you the type, but I do see the family resemblance." He made a motion of dismissal. "Leave the child be, curiosity can be an admirable trait."
The Tales of Hypocrisy, Severus thought sourly. He could imagine what would have happened had it been Lucius' child.
Lucius motioned the child towards him, and the girls eyes widened, but she remained rooted to the spot. "Come now child, I won't hurt you." Perhaps not, but Severus knew too much of Lucius' past to trust the man. However, the cold glare on his face went unnoticed, and the girl, no more than five, moved forward with hesitant steps.
"Lucius..." Severus warned. He was once again ignored.
"Such a beautiful child..." Lucius murmured, reaching out to pat the soft curls atop her head. "Takes after the mother, I presume?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What is your name?" He addressed the child.
She glanced nervously at her father, who remained glaring at Lucius, then turned back to said person. "Renee..." she muttered in a quiet voice.
Lucius merely nodded, "I have a son your age, perhaps you shall be introduced." Renee's face brightened. She didn't understand this man, why even his smile was glazed with insincerity, but she understood a new friend.
"I would like that, sir." A faint French accent was discernable in her words.
"I'm sure you would." But Lucius had lost interest in the child, and he turned again to Severus. "A summons." He said shortly, sliding a letter across the table. "You stand accused of being a Death Eater, loyal to Lord Voldemort." Lucius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Who would possibly think that?"
Severus looked somewhat less than amused; he eyed the letter apprehensively before pointedly ignoring it. "My question precisely. I thought my name was cleared along with the initial investigation."
Lucius shrugged indifferently. "Probably just an excuse to return you to England. You know they don't like anyone straying too far. I don't believe they much enjoy keeping tabs on Eskimo's living up in Canada. Especially potentially dangerous ones." The amused glimmer had returned to Lucius' eyes.
Severus was used to the stereotype. "Armed with harpoons and attacks dogs, I'm sure." Truth be told, he wasn't much for the climate up here. Beautiful country, yes, but lately he'd been longing for the familiarity of England. He'd come here to escape the oppression Voldemort cast even after his obliteration by the Potter boy, but perhaps now, four years later, it was safe to return. He rose from his seat.
Lucius, thankfully, took the hint, and followed suit, making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly as he reached it, turning back towards the occupants of the house. Renee was still standing obediently beside the table, and Severus was not four steps behind Lucius, arms crossed and brows furrowed. "Be there Severus. This is no country for you, and no one likes a coward."
This man most definitely was not welcome.
Severus pulled weakly at the bonds tying him to the chair. No, no, no, no, no... The endless chant scrolled through his mind, until the words were nearly visible across the back of his closed eyelids, until they seemed to whisper past his ears, and until he could almost taste them upon his dry tongue.
"Witness accounts state that the accused was at the scene of many muggle killings..."
He listened with ears that didn't want to hear, a mind that didn't want to believe, to the voices that provided evidence against him. Voices that didn't care about his fate beyond this courtroom, voices that didn't care about his life, about everything he'd done to /help/, not destroy them, or even about Meara, and Renee. Oh god, Meara...
"Questioning of imprisoned Death Eaters, under the influence of a truth serum, further proves the accused involvement with the Dark Lord..."
He wanted to say something, something that would help him, something that would help him, something that would help /her/. He didn't want Meara to have to live like that. To know that she'd married someone like him, someone so /disgusting/. To hear from someone else what he'd never had the courage to tell her himself.
"The accused also stands trial against the charges of using Veritaserum to acquire information used to thwart the Ministry of Magic..."
But he couldn't think. The dementors beside him sucked everything from him, even the words that could possibly free him from this hell. His mind raced to find something to say on his behalf, but it seemed stumble in every pothole along the way. He wanted to hold his head in his hands and scream, but both the bonds and his pride held him back.
"The accused, Severus Snape, is found guilty of all charges, and is sentenced to..."
As Crouch spoke these words, Severus found the energy, through his rampaging thoughts, to sit up a little straighter, to curl his lip and to glare at Crouch. Yet still he tried, failing, to form words through his dry throat and mouth.
"No."
Severus blinked. That single word had been accompanied by a loud crash, like the thunder he heard roaring in his head as the sentence was proclaimed. The door had been slammed open, and Dumbledore strode through it, nothing merry about his stance. Dumbledore. For a moment, he failed to realize what was the significance of this was. But only for a moment.
Thank God...
Dear Mr. Snape
We regret to inform you of the death of your wife, Mrs. Meara P. Snape. We offer our deepest consolations, and our most sincere hopes that you are able to get through this most saddening time.
Your wife died of unknown causes Thursday evening, in a muggle hospital in the province of Quebec, Canada. We are doing all we can to look into the matter, although it is unlikely that any certain conclusions will be obtained.
However, there is the issue of your daughter, Renee Snape. For the time being, she is being cared for in a foster home. If you cannot find the means to travel here, arrangements can be made to send her to London, England. In either case, please respond so that the situation can be properly assessed and dealt with.
Once again, I offer my most sincere consolations, and if you require anything, do not hesitate to contact me directly.
Yours Sincerely, Judith Harwood
Okay, so I lied. J.K. is a genius and I'm a thirteen-year-old wannabe. Oh well.
Note - I've edited this and reposted it; it was rather painful for even myself to look at before. Also, I've got the next chapter written, it should be up late today or tomorrow.
This man was not welcome.
"You deserted us, Severus. Ran when the coals grew hot and hid..." The man motioned towards the middle-class house around him distastefully. "...here."
"Apparently you did no different, Lucius, seeing as the dementors aren't breathing down your neck." Severus' lip curled. "And I am not hiding."
The returned smile was neither kind nor reassuring. "Whatever you say, /friend/."
A sudden clatter drew their attention from each other. At the base of the stairs a young girl was picking herself up, a guilty expression on her face. Apparently she'd been trying to sneak quietly down the stairs, but, as young children are prone to do, had slipped clumsily on one of the lower stairs.
Severus gave her a stern look, and the girl looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. "You're supposed to be going to sleep." Severus said in a low voice, shifting his gaze pointedly to the stairs.
Lucius laughed dryly. "Babysitting, Severus?" He caught the other mans gaze in his own. "Or is it perhaps your own? I wouldn't have thought you the type, but I do see the family resemblance." He made a motion of dismissal. "Leave the child be, curiosity can be an admirable trait."
The Tales of Hypocrisy, Severus thought sourly. He could imagine what would have happened had it been Lucius' child.
Lucius motioned the child towards him, and the girls eyes widened, but she remained rooted to the spot. "Come now child, I won't hurt you." Perhaps not, but Severus knew too much of Lucius' past to trust the man. However, the cold glare on his face went unnoticed, and the girl, no more than five, moved forward with hesitant steps.
"Lucius..." Severus warned. He was once again ignored.
"Such a beautiful child..." Lucius murmured, reaching out to pat the soft curls atop her head. "Takes after the mother, I presume?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What is your name?" He addressed the child.
She glanced nervously at her father, who remained glaring at Lucius, then turned back to said person. "Renee..." she muttered in a quiet voice.
Lucius merely nodded, "I have a son your age, perhaps you shall be introduced." Renee's face brightened. She didn't understand this man, why even his smile was glazed with insincerity, but she understood a new friend.
"I would like that, sir." A faint French accent was discernable in her words.
"I'm sure you would." But Lucius had lost interest in the child, and he turned again to Severus. "A summons." He said shortly, sliding a letter across the table. "You stand accused of being a Death Eater, loyal to Lord Voldemort." Lucius raised an eyebrow, amused. "Who would possibly think that?"
Severus looked somewhat less than amused; he eyed the letter apprehensively before pointedly ignoring it. "My question precisely. I thought my name was cleared along with the initial investigation."
Lucius shrugged indifferently. "Probably just an excuse to return you to England. You know they don't like anyone straying too far. I don't believe they much enjoy keeping tabs on Eskimo's living up in Canada. Especially potentially dangerous ones." The amused glimmer had returned to Lucius' eyes.
Severus was used to the stereotype. "Armed with harpoons and attacks dogs, I'm sure." Truth be told, he wasn't much for the climate up here. Beautiful country, yes, but lately he'd been longing for the familiarity of England. He'd come here to escape the oppression Voldemort cast even after his obliteration by the Potter boy, but perhaps now, four years later, it was safe to return. He rose from his seat.
Lucius, thankfully, took the hint, and followed suit, making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly as he reached it, turning back towards the occupants of the house. Renee was still standing obediently beside the table, and Severus was not four steps behind Lucius, arms crossed and brows furrowed. "Be there Severus. This is no country for you, and no one likes a coward."
This man most definitely was not welcome.
Severus pulled weakly at the bonds tying him to the chair. No, no, no, no, no... The endless chant scrolled through his mind, until the words were nearly visible across the back of his closed eyelids, until they seemed to whisper past his ears, and until he could almost taste them upon his dry tongue.
"Witness accounts state that the accused was at the scene of many muggle killings..."
He listened with ears that didn't want to hear, a mind that didn't want to believe, to the voices that provided evidence against him. Voices that didn't care about his fate beyond this courtroom, voices that didn't care about his life, about everything he'd done to /help/, not destroy them, or even about Meara, and Renee. Oh god, Meara...
"Questioning of imprisoned Death Eaters, under the influence of a truth serum, further proves the accused involvement with the Dark Lord..."
He wanted to say something, something that would help him, something that would help him, something that would help /her/. He didn't want Meara to have to live like that. To know that she'd married someone like him, someone so /disgusting/. To hear from someone else what he'd never had the courage to tell her himself.
"The accused also stands trial against the charges of using Veritaserum to acquire information used to thwart the Ministry of Magic..."
But he couldn't think. The dementors beside him sucked everything from him, even the words that could possibly free him from this hell. His mind raced to find something to say on his behalf, but it seemed stumble in every pothole along the way. He wanted to hold his head in his hands and scream, but both the bonds and his pride held him back.
"The accused, Severus Snape, is found guilty of all charges, and is sentenced to..."
As Crouch spoke these words, Severus found the energy, through his rampaging thoughts, to sit up a little straighter, to curl his lip and to glare at Crouch. Yet still he tried, failing, to form words through his dry throat and mouth.
"No."
Severus blinked. That single word had been accompanied by a loud crash, like the thunder he heard roaring in his head as the sentence was proclaimed. The door had been slammed open, and Dumbledore strode through it, nothing merry about his stance. Dumbledore. For a moment, he failed to realize what was the significance of this was. But only for a moment.
Thank God...
Dear Mr. Snape
We regret to inform you of the death of your wife, Mrs. Meara P. Snape. We offer our deepest consolations, and our most sincere hopes that you are able to get through this most saddening time.
Your wife died of unknown causes Thursday evening, in a muggle hospital in the province of Quebec, Canada. We are doing all we can to look into the matter, although it is unlikely that any certain conclusions will be obtained.
However, there is the issue of your daughter, Renee Snape. For the time being, she is being cared for in a foster home. If you cannot find the means to travel here, arrangements can be made to send her to London, England. In either case, please respond so that the situation can be properly assessed and dealt with.
Once again, I offer my most sincere consolations, and if you require anything, do not hesitate to contact me directly.
Yours Sincerely, Judith Harwood