Disclaimer: Same as before.
A/N: Dear Cannon Defender,
I appreciate your comments, and I'm glad you took the time to write a review. What I don't appreciate the way you say it. When I started writing fanfics, I knew that not everybody would enjoy my stories. In fact, I didn't think anyone would enjoy them. If you want to waste your time reading a story you don't like, well that's your problem. I would like you to follow this one request, if you re going to review my story again, there is two things you can do.
1. You can leave it anonymously, that way I can delete, or
2. You can leave constructive criticism.
That is all I ask. I've noticed that you haven't written a story, so I don't think you have the right to tell someone to take a story off or not. Yes, I know there are probably many Mary Sues, but fanfictions are about writing things you wished happened. It's for those people who have creative ideas but can't exactly make up they're own cast of characters or such things like that. There's not much I can do if you continue, but why waste your time. I'm not going to take off my story. It's not the best, but I have enjoyed writing it and that's all that matters to me. If people like it, great and if they don't, who cares.
Anyways, on with the story.
The next morning, I awoke with a sore neck and back. It took awhile for me to comprehend why I was sleeping in a chair in my uncle's office. When it did hit, tears over flowed and traveled down my cheeks. I looked up and watched as Snape walked over to me. "It's can't be true," I said for the thousandth time.
"But it is," he plainly stated. I could tell that he had been crying too. Loud sobs began to echo from my body and I couldn't control my shaking. He picked me up and carried me to the loveseat. There, he rubbed my back and waited for me to calm myself. After several minutes, I looked up at him.
"Is this how you felt when she died?" My uncle went completely still. I was the first to mention this topic in eighteen years. Tears began to fall frm my uncle's eyes. He only nodded his head. This outraged me. I jumped from his arms and stormed around the room.
"HOW CAN YOU STAND IN THE SAME ROOM AS HIM AND /NOT/ KILL HIM?!?" Hate was coursing through my body and I wanted to hit something or worse yet, kill somebody. Snape stood up, his normal scowl had returned to his face.
"How can I... How can I you ask. I still had your mother to look after and then you came around. That's why I stand in the same room and not try to kill him. I don't have the power to kill him. Had I the power, Cynthia and our unborn child would not have been killed, your mother would not have been killed."
My anger was seeping out. I forgot about all the grief he went through; I forgot about the cousin I would have had had he/she not been killed. My mother told me the story on night after I had told her I'd never listen to my uncle again. He was a "stupid jerk," and I didn't like him.
That night she tucked me into bed and told me about Cynthia. My uncle had met her shortly after leaving Hogwarts and they instantly fell in love. He had tried to keep her a secret, but Voldemort found out of her. To make my sure my uncle would be loyal to him, Voldemort killed Cynthia while my uncle was away doing Voldemort's dirty work. My uncle never got over her death and that's one of the reasons he was always in a "bad" mood.
"What are we going to do?" I asked him. He looked at me and said," The only logical thing. We talk to Dumbledore."
A/N: Sorry so short. It didn't write like I wanted it to, but that's life. Maybe I'll change it later on. Well, bye!
A/N: Dear Cannon Defender,
I appreciate your comments, and I'm glad you took the time to write a review. What I don't appreciate the way you say it. When I started writing fanfics, I knew that not everybody would enjoy my stories. In fact, I didn't think anyone would enjoy them. If you want to waste your time reading a story you don't like, well that's your problem. I would like you to follow this one request, if you re going to review my story again, there is two things you can do.
1. You can leave it anonymously, that way I can delete, or
2. You can leave constructive criticism.
That is all I ask. I've noticed that you haven't written a story, so I don't think you have the right to tell someone to take a story off or not. Yes, I know there are probably many Mary Sues, but fanfictions are about writing things you wished happened. It's for those people who have creative ideas but can't exactly make up they're own cast of characters or such things like that. There's not much I can do if you continue, but why waste your time. I'm not going to take off my story. It's not the best, but I have enjoyed writing it and that's all that matters to me. If people like it, great and if they don't, who cares.
Anyways, on with the story.
The next morning, I awoke with a sore neck and back. It took awhile for me to comprehend why I was sleeping in a chair in my uncle's office. When it did hit, tears over flowed and traveled down my cheeks. I looked up and watched as Snape walked over to me. "It's can't be true," I said for the thousandth time.
"But it is," he plainly stated. I could tell that he had been crying too. Loud sobs began to echo from my body and I couldn't control my shaking. He picked me up and carried me to the loveseat. There, he rubbed my back and waited for me to calm myself. After several minutes, I looked up at him.
"Is this how you felt when she died?" My uncle went completely still. I was the first to mention this topic in eighteen years. Tears began to fall frm my uncle's eyes. He only nodded his head. This outraged me. I jumped from his arms and stormed around the room.
"HOW CAN YOU STAND IN THE SAME ROOM AS HIM AND /NOT/ KILL HIM?!?" Hate was coursing through my body and I wanted to hit something or worse yet, kill somebody. Snape stood up, his normal scowl had returned to his face.
"How can I... How can I you ask. I still had your mother to look after and then you came around. That's why I stand in the same room and not try to kill him. I don't have the power to kill him. Had I the power, Cynthia and our unborn child would not have been killed, your mother would not have been killed."
My anger was seeping out. I forgot about all the grief he went through; I forgot about the cousin I would have had had he/she not been killed. My mother told me the story on night after I had told her I'd never listen to my uncle again. He was a "stupid jerk," and I didn't like him.
That night she tucked me into bed and told me about Cynthia. My uncle had met her shortly after leaving Hogwarts and they instantly fell in love. He had tried to keep her a secret, but Voldemort found out of her. To make my sure my uncle would be loyal to him, Voldemort killed Cynthia while my uncle was away doing Voldemort's dirty work. My uncle never got over her death and that's one of the reasons he was always in a "bad" mood.
"What are we going to do?" I asked him. He looked at me and said," The only logical thing. We talk to Dumbledore."
A/N: Sorry so short. It didn't write like I wanted it to, but that's life. Maybe I'll change it later on. Well, bye!