"Never regret yesterday. Life is in you today, and you make your tomorrow." -L. Ron Hubbard
"You know, Sev, you really are going to be sorry one day if you don't learn how to swim.", Lily chided, flipping her crimson hair over one shoulder.
"Oh, Sevvy, I'm sure you'd have a blast swimming if you would just try it!", Aunt Jenny encouraged sweetly.
"What's the matter, Snivellus? Nobody ever teach you how to swim?", James Potter jeered, while Sirius Black guffawed.
"You know, Sev, they're offering free swimming lessons down at the Y this summer, maybe you'd be interested?", His mother suggested. Afterwards, tears welled in her eyes for some strange reason.
"When I was a boy, mah Daddy threw us off the docks to teach us how to swim, sure did get our asses in gear, that it did.", his father told him.
"You're not really afraid of water, are you?", Tom Riddle asked.
"Oh come now Severus, you won't drown if you know what you're doing.", His grandfather reassured him.
"D'aawww, isn't that adorable? Wittle Sevvy shitblood is afwaid of the water!", Viserus mocked cruelly.
"You know, I used to be afraid of water too. I could...hold your hand, if you like.", Dave offered in a sheepish, quivering voice.
"Seriously, butt munch, the Earth is 70% water. You're going to have a run-in with it sooner or later." His sister teased, licking the mayonnaise off her spoon.
And that was the echo of every voice I should have listened to. Too little, too late.
The moment I opened my eyes to discover I was still breathing, I wish I hadn't.
For half a heartbeat the only sensation I felt was the midday sun searing my retinas and the ocean dangerously rocking to and fro the slab of driftwood that was my only barrier between life and death. Shifting my eyes downward, the first thing I noticed was that my skin was no longer white. None of it. What hadn't been baked an angry shade of scarlet by the sun had been fried black by the fire. Gritting my teeth until they nearly shattered, I managed to raise my right arm. The sound was something akin to bacon on a skillet, and I tried not to notice the large flacks of skin that had simply chipped off with my movement, revealing strings of an opaque, mucusey membrane and the raw, pink tissue underneath.
Brushing my trembling fingers against my face, I realized that half my hair had burnt away, but that was by and far the least of my worries. With every slight movement of my body I could feel the flesh on my back, or rather the lack thereof, screaming in white-hot protest. I recalled a story Viserus had been feeling pleasant enough to share on a long car ride once, years ago. It was about some family who left their diabetic, open sore ridden and immobile grandmother on the couch for months and months, never bothering to move or tend to her. 'They forgot all about her', he had said, holding his illuminated wand under his chin for dramatic effect. 'After a while, the open flesh on her body accepted the material on the couch as its own, and began to bond with it, and when the authorities finally came...they found her FUSED to the couch!'
'You're full of shit, Viserus.' That's what I had told him, at the time. In all my years of research and experiments, I had never dabbled into anything involving human flesh bonding with a foreign material, never really given any thought to it at all. Why would I? But, could it...really happen that way? Either way, I knew that if the raw, flayed mess of my back were to get infected, it would be an ugly death indeed. It would be quicker and more merciful to just roll off this plank right now and let the sea take me. And mother of Christ, this side of my skin needs a break from this constant scorching sunlight. There's only one thing left to do... and make it quick, just like ripping off a band-aid.
I take a deep breath, and then another, and another; holding the last one in my chest.
One.
Two.
Three.
Rrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! FUCK! GODDAMNIT!"
In one swift motion, I had managed to turn myself over without capsizing the plank. I had also discovered first hand what it must be like to be a wounded and abandoned grandmother slowly fusing to a piece of furniture. Looking down, I could see remnants of my forming scar tissue that had bonded with the wood. I could feel warm trickles of blood mingling with the sweat that was running down my raw, searing back and it was all I could do to breathe as tears of pure agony began to blur my vision.
For a half-crazed moment it seemed as if my screams were echoing off of the very sea and sky, as I heard a roaring, tearing sound in the distance, and then my rattled mind registered what it was. A helicopter. I craned my neck upwards so fast that it sent a fresh wave of pain shooting down my skinned back, but nevertheless, there it was, chopping through the sky.
"HEEEEEEEEYYY!"
I desperately began to wave my arms, but every movement I made threatened to overturn the plank.
"HELP ME! PLEEEEAAASE!"
The chopper was directly above my head but showed no signs of slowing. I shifted my weight left and managed to pivot the driftwood 180 degrees.
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLP!"
It was no use. The helicopter was well on it's way across the horizon and I had no means of gaining the attention of its pilot. And I was on a piece of driftwood, in the middle of open ocean, thousands of miles off the coast of...wherever this was, burnt to a crisp, without food or water, and I couldn't swim. This is what it means to be fucked. Wholly, sincerely, and completely. Breathing heavily, I curled my burnt hands into fists and gazed out into the sky, towards a mercilessly hot sun and an uncaring God.
"Why?", It was the only word my dry, cracked lips could form in this given set of circumstances. "WHY!?", I pounded the driftwood with my fist as fury and desperation overtook me. "WHHHHHYYYYYYY!?", I pounded with both fists, then felt my heart stop as the plank nearly toppled. Hyperventilating and wide-eyed, I froze, silently saying every prayer I knew until the plank leveled out once more. I sunk back down flat on my stomach, trembling. There wasn't the vaguest sight of land in any direction. Just blue, as far as the eye could see. So much blue it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began.
I suppose this is where most men would reflect, wondering what in the cruel, unforgiving world they could have done to deserve such a fate. In my case, however, the point was moot. Any level-headed soul that knew my story probably couldn't write a more fitting ending for it themselves. Above, God must have been weeping with laughter. Below, the devil was setting aside a room for me in Hell. Here on Earth, every nerve ending I had was crying in agony and my corpse would never be found.
All of a sudden, the cobalt waves looked rather inviting. Just 5 minutes of suffocation, 5 minutes and the pain would be over... I let the fingers of my left hand dangle over the driftwood. The water was surprisingly luke-warmish to the touch, unlike the Pacific, which I had been accustomed to. I brought my face closer to the surface of the deep blue, tasting the scent of the salty waves, and then...my eyes happened to lock on the inkwork of the skull and snake which had been tattooed on my left forearm.
That motherfucker is prancing around in my crown right now, isn't he?
The thought was enough to numb my screaming flesh. I could see him in my mind's eye, as clear as the sky overhead; his crooked, snaggletoothed, idiotic grin threatening to split his obtuse, overly round, shaven-bald head. A face so happy and content to be that much closer to Tom Riddle's asshole now that the seat at his right hand was empty. The seat of a King now occupied with an over-eager slave. The Death Eaters had about one brain cell in which they shared between themselves, but it was always Mulciber who seemed determined to style himself as the craftiest. Crafty enough even to almost rid the world of Severus Amadeus Snape.
Almost.
This is not how, or where it ends. This CAN'T be how it ends. I'm far from done. A pawn shall not interfere in a battle between Kings.
…...
The screen of heavy smog that was the horizon of Spinner's End began to fade from black to a sooty, dark gray at dawn's first light. A river the color of road mud led to a silhouette of row houses, seedy businesses, an old church, and towering at the center of it all, the nuclear power plant, which belched fresh poison into the sky. In an alleyway alongside the Railview Hotel, a vagabond screamed.
"EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER BEEN TAUGHT BY MODERN PSYCHIATRY IS WRONG! BIOLOGY DOES NOT EXIST! UNLOCK THE SECRETS OF YOUR MIND! YOUR POTENTIAL IS LIMITLESS!"
Eileen's eyes shot open and fell upon the clock at the bedside table. 5:00 a.m. Goddamnit. Every thrice-be-damned morning... Still half-asleep, she rolled out of bed and strode over to the window.
"YOUR SOUL POSSESSES POWER BEYOND MAN'S WILDEST DREAMS! FREE YOURSELF OF YOUR CORPOREAL PRISON! ASCEND TO A HIGHER PLA-"
"JON!"
The tan-skinned gypsy ceased his bellowing and spun on his heel, his golden eyes, one of which was tattooed over with a curved, black line, regarded Eileen with excitement. "Eileen! My queen! My sweetest little dream! For what angel in heaven smiles down upon me that a vision of such beauty should speak my name?" His heavy French accent seasoned his words with a melodic ring.
"Cut the shit, Jon. Do you have any idea what time it is?", She spoke through clenched teeth.
"But of course! It is time we STOLE BACK THE POWER OF OUR INFINITE CONSCIOUSNESS FROM OUR MASTERS! IT IS TIME WE BROKE THE CHAINS OF MENTAL SLAVERY TO THE OVERLORD! I, HONEST JON, WILL SHOW YOU HOW!", He waved his fists in an exaggerated gesture.
Eileen held her aching head in her hands and tried to fend off the migraine that was slowly forming as the lunatic before her, dressed in filthy rags so mismatched it could pass for a jester's motley, grabbed a book out of the shopping cart he was pushing around and began to read:
"THIS EARTH IS NOTHING MORE THAN A PRISON PLANET! HUMANITY'S LIMITATIONS ARE NAUGHT MORE THAN AN ILLUSION PERPETUATED BY THE OVERLORD!"
"Jon!", His mouth snapped shut immediately once he saw the gold coins on her palm. He bent forward to take them, bringing himself so close to her that she could smell the filth and grime of all the baths he didn't take. When he outstretched his hand, she retracted hers. "You'll have this on one condition. I'm sure that your scripture is nothing short of fascinating. But, get it through your head, Honest Jon, that I have a young child in this room, and neither he nor I care to be awoken at ungodly hours by your incessant shouting. So, either you start your morning routine elsewhere, or I call the cops. Again."
For a split second, something very ugly flashed through the features of Honest Jon. When his usual mask of joviality fell, it revealed a visage as cold and trenchant as the acid rain that so often poured over the town. Before she could blink though, his plastic smile was once again beaming down at her.
"As you wish, mademoiselle.", He bowed low, sending a strand of greasy, salt-and-pepper hair falling over his eye. She tossed the coins his way. He picked them up and produced a pen from his pocket. "For your generosity, my sweet, an autographed copy of my book, just for you!" She managed to feign a polite enough smile as he scrawled his name on one of the tomes in his shopping cart and handed it to her. "Au revoir, salope.", He flashed her a charming grin and was on his way.
Sighing, she closed the window and collapsed back onto her threadbare twin bed. The cover art on the book depicted a scene that wouldn't look out of place in a cheezy science fiction movie. A giant, menacing space alien pulled on leashes which were attached to naked human beings crawling on all fours. Behind the alien, a volcano was erupting, spewing hot lava into the heavens. Sins of the Puppet Master was printed at the top, in large, loud, block letters. Inscribed on the inside of the cover, in gaudy cursive, was: To my sweet Eileen, may the light of truth illuminate you always. Yours truly, R. Jon Delacour. She laid the book aside on the table and ran her fingers through her long, ebony hair. Her fingers caught on tangles from a fitful night's sleep. When she rested her head back on her pillow, however, she found sleep would not come. Goddamn that bloody lunatic. She turned to the bed next to her, where a tiny lump under the cheap, tacky comforters snored softly.
It had been one month since she fled Germany, and yesterday had been the first evening Viserus had gone to bed without fuss nor tears. As of late, the child truly did begin to level out emotionally. While he was still miles away from his old, bouncy, smiling self, he was slowly but surely showing signs of accepting the situation around him. His daily inquiries of 'When are we going back to Grandma's?' had dropped from about fifteen per day to five. His suicide attempts, which consisted of stomping his little feet and shouting 'Take us back to Grandma's or I'll hold my breath until I die!', had receded to about three per week, and he would give up, gasping, sooner every time. She had even heard laughter from the boy's lips for the first time in four weeks just the other day. They had been in the lobby ordering fresh towels, when the innkeep, Mrs. Snape, had bent over to pick up a fallen pen and broke wind quite loudly.
In addition, she had neither seen nor heard of any sign of her father, Aunt Jenny, or anyone connected with the Prince family at all since leaving. A mischievous side of her would always wonder what sort of temper tantrum her father must have thrown after she had left him bleeding and humiliated in the street of her old home. She had also often found herself trying to imagine what the look on her Aunt Jenny's face must have been when she came home to find that her son had taken a one way trip to Cloud 9 and would never be coming back. Most of all, she wondered what it must have felt like for them, to have to accept that in the end, she had won. Her and Viserus would never again be their pawns to control, and if there was one thing her father couldn't abide, it was losing control.
Everything so far was going according to plan, except for one thing: They were slowly but steadily going broke. Between hotel fare, food, and other odds and ends, money was draining and none was coming in. One of the first things Eileen had done upon her arrival to Spinner's End was send an owl to old Professor Slughorn back at Hogwarts, asking if he could pull any favors for his proclaimed 'best potion brewer of 1949'. His response was short and sweet: 'I do wish I could help you, but I'm afraid I see hundreds of students come and go each year and your name doesn't ring a bell. Have a nice day!' That answered that question. From there, she hit the classifieds, applying to apothecaries, alchemical research facilities, and all sorts of healers' offices in need of a potion brewer. Optimistic as she was in the beginning, her hopes steadily began to fall when after every interview she was presented with the same damning words: 'Sorry dear, but we're looking for someone with a bit more experience.' That phrase was becoming more and more like a punch to the gut every time.
Since sleep was no longer an option, she figured she may as well start the day. Lighting a cigarette, she stepped into the bathroom and started up the shower, undressing while she waited for the water to get steaming hot. When she stepped in, the combination of nicotine and piping hot water running down her back and untying every knot in her tense, aching shoulders was nothing short of heaven. She dragged deep on the cig, and began to visualize and mentally rehearse what she'd say at today's interview. She breathed a little easier, knowing that the expected qualifications for this place would be minimal at best. It was a little mom and pop type trinket shop located on Knockturn Alley called Borgin and Burkes. As much as she felt the position was beneath her, she supposed she would have to swallow her pride and bear it, for she was quickly running out of options. For a split second, the ever smug face of her father appeared in her mind's eye. 'You'll be penniless and whoring your body on the street, and believe me princess, syphilis is no picnic.' God, how he always smiled when he said that...
She quickly shook it off and went to fetch Viserus for his shower.
When the clock struck noon, Eileen smoothed out her black, business casual dress and grabbed the floo powder she kept on the table. Taking a reluctant Viserus by the hand, she made her way down the corridor to the lobby, which managed to be poorly lit even at midday. The scents of other guest's cooking mingled and melded together into one noxious cloud of salt and grease. Her interview was not until one, but she preferred to use the lobby fireplace when she knew the hotel was at its emptiest. Mrs. Snape was in her upstairs apartment eating lunch, her son was off working at wherever he worked, and the rest of the staff was out on break. The only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps from upstairs, an infant's wailing, and the couple that stayed in room 42, who seemed to be in a constant state of near-violent argument.
"Now Viserus, I don't want to hear any word from Mrs. Greene about you bothering the girls today, am I clear?", She warned her son.
"But Mom, I don't wanna go to stupid daycare! It's just a bunch of stupid babies! They don't even have TV.", The boy crossed his little arms over his chest and stomped his feet.
"Well I'm sorry that I can't take you with me, but this is grown-up business. How about this, if you behave for Mrs. Greene today I'll take you to Florean's after. Do we have a deal?"
He looked up at her with wary eyes, trying hard to conceal his inticement. "Fine.", He murmured quietly.
"Alright then, are you ready?" He nodded. She reached into the bag of floo powder, taking out enough for the both of them and knelt in front of the flames.
"I could round up some more firewood if you like!"
She screamed and whirled around, her fistful of floo powder flying everywhere and her heart jumping into her throat. She was met with the confused features of Tobias Snape.
"Didn't mean to scare you there, sweetheart.", He smiled softly. He donned a hard hat and a plain blue jumpsuit style uniform. Embroidered on the left side of his chest was a symbol resembling an atom, under which read: 'Cokeworth Energy'.
"It's alright, I just...didn't expect anyone to be here. Aren't you usually working around now?"
"Meh, the big wigs up in management sent everyone home. Something about a leak in the reactor, yet again.", He rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Are you...sure that's safe? I mean, for everyone around here?"
"Well of course it's safe! Nuclear energy is just about the safest darn thing there is. They tell us at the plant at least every other day. You ain't got nothin' to worry about, darlin'." His blue eyes lit up as he smiled and rubbed her on the shoulder as a friendly gesture.
Judging from the acid rain which frequently fell over town and some of the bizarrely deformed animals she occasionally spied wandering the streets, she severely doubted his words. Oh, but she did love it when he called her 'darlin'. She could not deny that. "So, how long until the leak is fixed?", She asked conversationally.
"They say it should be all patched up in two or three days. So, I guess I'll just be cooling my heels until then.", He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Say, you never did have someone show you a proper tour of our here town, now did ya?", He perked up.
"No...no, I suppose not."
"Well uh, it looks like I ain't got nothin' on the ol' to do list for the next couple of days. What do you say we paint the town red?"
"I have somewhere to be until around two-thirty, but...after that I'm free- oh-", She looked down towards Viserus at her feet, who was impatiently waiting for the grown-ups to get done talking. "I'm afraid it would be impossible to flag a sitter down on such short notice."
"Nonsense! My Mah could watch the little feller."
"Oh, I couldn't bear to trouble her."
"No trouble at all, she loves kids. The old bat won't quit yammerin' that it's high time I gave her some grandbabies.", He chuckled.
She knelt to Viserus' level. "Would it be okay if you stayed with Mrs. Snape when we got back?"
At first he furrowed his little eyebrows at her, but then his features shifted to a look of neutrality. "Does she have a TV?"
"You bet your bottom she does, little feller. Fifteen whole channels too.", Tobias said, ruffling Viserus' hair.
Viserus shrugged. "Okay."
Tobias turned back to Eileen. "Well then, I guess I'll be meetin' you back around here at say, three?"
"Yes, that'll be fine.", She smiled and felt warmth rise in her cheeks.
"It's a date then.", He grinned and tipped his hat to her slightly in a cowboy-ish gesture that made her cheeks flush all the more.
"Tobeh! Is that you down there? I think the stove up here is busted again, Tobeh! Can ya help me out?", Mrs. Snape suddenly called from upstairs.
Toby rolled his eyes. "I better tend to Mah before she done ruptures herself. I'll see you at three, darlin'." He waved and took the stairs two at a time.
Eileen simply stood still for a moment, grinning as she began to feel butterflies tickle her stomach. A sensation foreign to her for over a decade.
"Are we gonna get going?", Viserus asked, trying his best to remain polite.
She was so caught up in her own giddiness she had forgotten he was standing there, and that she had places to go and people to see. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she took Viserus by the hand and transported them through the fireplace.
A/N: Special thanks to Professor Radar for the wonderful reviews, to HwaseungOz as well for the critique. Short chapter, I know, but it just felt like a good place to end it. Spinner's End is a very easy and fun place to write about when you live in Jersey, they're very similar. This story is also up on Wattpad and DeviantArt under the same name with "illustrations", and by illustrations I mean shit that I threw together in MS paint, but they're there if anyone wants a visual aid as to what Dr. Prince or my interpretations of other characters look like, as well as scenes from the story. Hope everyone is enjoying so far, stay classy, stay true to your Grandpa, rest well, and dream of large women.