Thanks to Mims for her suggestion which saved the day.
Chapter 8
Mechanism Introvert
Patience sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the flickering flames of her bedroom fire. She had been sitting in just that spot for almost an hour, since Wicket had brought her the breakfast tray. She had an idea—a shocking and awful idea, yet it had given her an odd sense of hope the moment she had it. She did not know what she really wanted to do, but somehow she thought, she really did think…
It had been five weeks of complete hell. He had gone, of course, but not before another lecture about what she could and could not do. She could not even owl or Floo her friends. He had not seemed remotely interested in what was reasonable or even decent. Patience had not been able to fight with him. She had lost all hope that he cared and did not want to risk any of the violence of which she knew he was very capable.
Yet, despite her attempt to avoid further inciting him to aggression against her, he had hurt her anyway. When she had broken into a fit of tears after he had told her that she would not be allowed to owl Eva even to explain why she had to stay away, he had twisted her arm until she had screamed to make her stop crying. Although she had noticed the look of shock and repentance that had immediately appeared on his face, she did not think that meant it wouldn't happen again. Afterwards, he had wordlessly waved his wand over her arm to remove any lasting injury and had left the house for the Hogwarts' school term almost immediately.
Rem had got far worse since he had left. In fact, Patience knew that she had really lost the battle for dominance. The old woman hated her with a passion that Patience could not explain. There was nothing she could do either, since Patience did not have the support of her husband to make Rem obey her and she did not have the skill to use magic to compel Rem, either. Patience had figured out that Rem was very close to being a Squib, but Patience was a poor sort of witch and Rem was a very strong woman.
Patience had not spoken to anyone but the old house-elf for four days, not since the last time that she had forced Rem to follow her into Hogsmeade so that Patience could purchase two new books. Although Rem had taken to bullying her overtly and Patience now avoided her as much as feasible, Patience had not yet allowed Rem to keep her from her one outlet for outside human contact. However, Patience had to avoid going into town during any time that it was remotely possible that Eva, Sarah, or Elspeth would be there. This was especially hard, since Eva's family business was located in central Hogsmeade. Additionally, Bobby's office was there and she was not sure what would happen if he saw her. Therefore Patience had only gone into town three times and after each instance she had wondered if the stress were really worth the relief of being able to talk to someone, if only to a shopwitch or a fellow customer. More and more Patience could see that she was becoming isolated in a trap from which there did not seem to be any real escape.
Her hopelessness had brought Patience to her current state of dark despair. For the past 7 years, she had always had her friends and Hogwarts to return to after the miserable, torturous holidays spent with her parents. In addition, for two years she had thought she would be marrying Bobby, which would finally free her from her parents. There had always been an escape for her, something about which to hope and dream. Now there really was nothing.
Patience looked at the tray of cold breakfast and thought about her little idea. It was odd, but she had never considered it before. She had never thought of herself as the kind of person who would give up. Life had never seemed that bad before, since she had always thought that somehow, eventually, something good would happen. Patience had always been an optimistic person, so much so that her friends had always been surprised how hopeful she could be even when her home life was so horrendous. Nevertheless, she had never believed that fate was irrevocably set against her. She had always thought that eventually she would be freed from her misery and given her chance to really live.
Yet she now was realising that life did not always turn round. There were some people for whom nothing ever actually got better. Perhaps this was a way to get away from it. It would be something that she could control and he could not stop.
It was a horrible idea and she could not believe that she had even considered it. Patience shuddered and forced herself to turn round and start eating her breakfast in direct opposition to her frightening idea. Later she would find Rem and insist that they go into Hogsmeade for tea.
Snape walked softly up the stairs towards the top level. He had heard no sound when he entered the house and had been glad. He knew that his visit was unexpected and he had hoped to be able to leave as soon as he had retrieved the book from his library. There was no good reason to extend his time there, since he was certain that all she would want to do was beg him to allow her to see her friends.
He understood that she was lonely. Few people knew loneliness half as well as he did. It was something with which he had ample experience. However, he could not risk allowing her to run rampant. If they had spent some more time together in the same house so that she could be trained in what he expected of her and he could learn better how far he could trust her to obey him, then perhaps he could afford to be more lenient. Yet this had not been the case, therefore he had to keep her under control the only way possible.
Her friends were a risk. Rosser, perhaps not, but West and Bruce both were. Bruce's parents were both Ministry employees. Even worse was West's father, another Ministry employee, who worked for Alistair Higgs in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He could not risk any accidental or purposeful leaks of information to either of those girls by his wife. She had no sense and no brains. She could very easily do him in by even opening her mouth about something she had seen in his house.
Guilt was not something that Severus Snape handled well, so it was not anything that he wanted to accept when he felt it as walked past her door on his way upstairs. His ruthlessly honest mind, the discipline of which he had been rigorously zealous since he had made an horrendous error in judgement more than 15 years beforehand, had realised that his restrictions had been excessive and unreasonable. There was no reason that he could not allow her to owl at least the Rosser girl, whose parents did nothing more dangerous than run Daedalus Home Supplies.
As Snape looked along his library shelf for the volume that he needed, his mind wandered to Dolores Umbridge. His hatred of the woman had nuances and flavours that he hadn't ever before tasted in a lifetime of hating those who took what he wanted or who put him in a situation that he couldn't control. Snape knew that she was completely aware of how much he resented her position. She had made several little attempts to needle him already. He thought with loathing about how Umbridge had actually asked him to chop her oenalis pods for her when she had come to him for supplies—as if he were an apothecarist's assistant. No, Dolores Umbridge would be brought down and he would enjoy watching her fall even if he were not directly responsible.
When he descended the stairs and approached the corridor for his wife's bedroom, Snape saw Wicket standing before him with a tray in his hands. When the old house-elf noticed him, the tray fell to the ground whilst the elf dropped to his knees and began wailing.
"Please Master, Wicket has tried to help. Wicket has done everything he knows and he has failed. He wants to help, yes, wants to help Mistress, Master. Wicket has failed."
The old house-elf was banging his head on the ground and howling in such a disturbing manner, that Snape was alarmed despite his intention to avoid anything that had to do with his wife. Something was genuinely wrong, because Wicket was petrified.
Snape reached down, grabbed the house-elf by his ear, and dragged him up to eye level. "What is wrong with her? What do you mean?"
The house-elf screeched in terror and stammered fearfully, "Mistress is sick. She has fevers and spots. She shivers and she cannot breathe. She grows thinner and now she does not answer Wicket."
"What you mean, you fool elf, what has happened to her?"
"Mistress has pox, master. Wicket knows Mistress will die but Rem keeps him from bringing Healer. Wicket cannot heal Mistress."
Snape pushed the house-elf into the wall and asked in a poisonous snarl, "What do you mean she is dying? One doesn't die from the pox, you idiot elf. Why was I not contacted?
The house-elf was kicking his legs and struggling as he was being choked by the pressure of Snape's hand on his throat. Snape released the elf slightly so that he could speak.
"Rem would not let Wicket contact Master and Master told Wicket not to contact Master about Mistress unless she disobeyed Master's rules or if Rem ordered him. Mistress has been sick for three weeks and now she does not answer Wicket anymore."
Snape dropped the house-elf to the floor and turned immediately to the door of his wife's bedroom. After he wrenched open the door, the first thing he saw was Rem sitting as if enthroned on the deep red leather chair beside the fireplace. His eyes then turned to the bed where he saw the remains of a wraithlike woman lying.
Snape had never experienced such a feeling of shock. This was his wife and she was dead. A feeling of passionate, boiling anger took charge of him as he stumbled forward to the side of the bed to look down at his wife. He could see enough by her sunken cheeks and eyes and her waxen skin, which was covered in enormous purple splotches and oozing green boils, to realise that this was probably a case of untreated pox as well as some other corpuscular fever. The vast feeling of terror and loss was beyond his control as Snape stared down at her and then, as if in slow motion, looked over at where Rem was seated. It was her fault. She had kept Wicket from informing him and she had refused to contact a Healer. She had done this to his girl and she dared to sit there and gloat? Snape lunged forward, tore at the woman's throat, and pushed her into the wall with both hands. He would kill her in payment for this. He would tear her ugly body into shreds.
The look of satisfaction had been wiped from Rem's face the moment that he had turned on her, but now he read a dawning understanding in her eyes. She knew that he was going to kill her. He had seen that look in others' eyes before a wand had extinguished the light from them permanently.
"You let her die. You killed her." He pushed his knee into her stomach to hold her as he reached into his pocket for his wand.
When the pressure on her throat was released temporarily, Rem managed to squawk, "Not dead. Not dead, Master. Not dead. Please."
Snape pushed the side of his wand hand over her larynx and said, "You did kill her, you stupid bitch. Now I will kill you."
He could see her desperation, but he noticed also that she kept turning her eyes over to the bed as if to get his attention. Snape did not free the woman from the stranglehold he had on her with his left hand, but he did turn to look at the bed and at Patience. Suddenly he released Rem, who slid to the floor gasping in agony whilst clutching her throat. Snape bent shakily over where Patience lay and had to gasp for breath as he realised that Rem had not been lying. Patience was not dead. Her beautiful face was marred almost beyond recognition, but she was merely asleep.
He was drowning in a swirling ocean of sensations as he tried to take in the situation. He had not lost her. Relief and anger were fighting in his mind for dominance, but Snape could not find a balance. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
As he spoke, it was like breathing through water—his words garbled as he struggled for air, "Patience. Wake up. Look at me."
The gruesomely marked face of his wife moved at the sound of his voice. She opened her eyes, which seemed to be shockingly pale, and he noticed the light of recognition as she saw him. All he read there was fear. She did not want him there.
"Do you hear me?"
Her lips moved and he could hear a hoarse, "Ahhm."
"You will be all right. I am going to bring a Healer and you will be fine. Do you hear me?"
"No."
Snape did not really listen to her response, he only heard that she was able to speak, so he repeated, "Patience, I am going to contact the family Healer. The pox is not deadly if it is treated. You will be fine."
There was no answer from her. He waited for another moment and then turned to the cold fireplace, thrust two fingers out, and gestured so that large, roiling flames were now lapping the edge of the firebox. Snape looked up at the mantelpiece and realised that there was no jar of Floo powder there for him to use. He stepped immediately into the flames and then out again at the fire in his library. His hand blindly reached for the Floo powder jar and he tossed a messy fistful into the flames and waited for Van Ussel to answer.