-Part II-
"Speak softly and carry a big stick." -Theodore Roosevelt
The fine golden metal scrollwork of the tiny vial glittered in the dim candlelight of the Slytherin common room.
"So where were the spiders, when the fly tried to break our balls?
Just the beer light to guide us.
So we bitched about his fans and should we crush his sweet hands?"
I carefully removed the stopper from the sparkling crystal container of 'Felix Felicis' and sniffed its contents. An image flashed through my head of a laughing brown-haired girl sipping a drink. Crystal Pepsi. Sugar and water with a few other things added. Worthless. Goddamn. Garbage.
"Ziggy played for time, jiving us that we were Voodoo.
The kids was just crass, he was the naz,
With God given ass.
He took it all too far, but boy could he play guitaa-aaar!"
I gripped the vial tightly...and then threw it against the wall. It shattered a tiny rain of crystal shards over the rubbish basket and I watched the feckless, piss-yellow sugary waste drip down the wall of the dark dungeon.
"Making love with his ego,
Ziggy sucked up into his miii-iiind."
The door to the common room opened and a sentient pile of dripping wet animal pelts walked through with a dead stag hung over its shoulder. Wordlessly, Dolohov The Bloodhound flung the stag onto the table I was brooding at, rested his spear against the wall, and laid the soaking wet wolf pelt that was draped over his head and shoulders over the back of a chair. He grunted and nodded his head to me in greeting, I returned the gesture.
"Staying in for the night?", I asked him. Dolohov usually preferred to slumber under the stars. When it rained, however, he sought shelter indoors.
He simply grunted and nodded, removing a dagger from his belt. He was ever a man of few words.
"Like a leper messiah,
When the kids had killed the man"
I couldn't stifle a grin watching Dolohov The Bloodhound skin his felled quarry. The sight of the stag brought my thoughts to James Potter, and what it would be like to flay his flesh off of his bones, slow enough to make him scream until his throat burst...unlike the stag on the table, he would be alive for the whole thing...
"I had to BREAK UP THE BAAAANNND-AH FUCK!"
Ziggy Stardust had ended abruptly with a sloppy, discordant, slam on the guitar strings. Rosier sat on the sofa, wiping the juice of a tomato that had been hurled at him off of his face.
"Hey Ziggy!", Mulciber called out, tossing another tomato up in the air and lazily catching it in his hand. "In case it escaped your notice, you are not David Bowie. Now how about you stifle your bloody caterwauling before the next tomato gets shoved up your pretty little wannabe rock star ass!"
Rosier laid his guitar on the sofa and rose to his feet menacingly...as did I. True, Rosier was indeed not David Bowie, and his nightly concerts left much to be desired, but he was my friend...and Mulciber had dared to run his mouth with me in earshot. That was enough. Both Mulciber and Rosier looked at me warily and with a wave of my hand I diffused the impending dogfight.
"So!", I addressed the room. "It would seem that we have some harsh critics of our singer here in the crowd tonight. I suppose I can only hope to lift the mood in here by offering up my own talents. Do you dunderheads want some fucking entertainment?"
Dolohov stopped skinning his stag for a moment and turned his eyes to me. Narcissa and Bellatrix Lestrange stopped cackling like hens and turned from each other, looking to me in nervous anticipation. Avery, who had been silently painting the face on a Victorian style doll he was crafting, laid his paintbrush in a cup of water and removed his glasses. Lucius, Rodolphous, and Rabastan peaked their heads over their respective hands of cards from the poker game they were playing at the far end of the room. Everywhere, heads turned and low murmurs were exchanged, until all eyes were on me.
Without another word, I strode out to the sofa near the fireplace, front and center to everyone and directly adjacent to Mulciber. Suspicion and defensiveness shadow his features when I reach for my wand, but to his and the rest of the room's confusion, I gently lay it on the floor and remove my shoes. Mulciber just sits in his chair, looking perplexed and vaguely uneasy. I relieve myself of my cumbersome school robes and toss them on the couch, until I am left standing in a simple black wife-beater and black slacks. I raise my arms high into the air and stretch my entire body, breathing as deeply as I can into my lungs, feeling my muscles loosen as if they were rubber held over a flame. My spine sounds a satisfying crack. I can hear low whispers being exchanged throughout the common room. 'What is he doing?', 'Are they going to fight?', 'We're about to witness a murder, aren't we?'
I bend my torso straight downward, until my hands are splayed on the floor, my neck still craned as I continue to eye down Mulciber. Effortlessly, I raise my legs to the ceiling, until my body reflects a perfect handstand. After a half-second pause for breath, I continue moving my lower half forward...contorting my spine until my legs are at a 90 degree angle from my head. Mulciber's eyes widen and the women gasp, holding their hands over their mouths while the men curse and murmur words of disbelief at what's happening before their eyes. I lower my legs further still. I can feel my spine beginning to ache sharply in protest, but I push myself all the same, until my feet are hanging directly in front of my face.
"That's disgusting...", Narcissa whispers to her sister.
"I'd give my left tit for a man that could move like that...", Bellatrix replied, half in a trance.
"Bella!", Narcissa lightly smacked her on the arm.
I can feel the fibers of the plush, green rug below me brushing the tips of my toes. Pushing my back to fold just slightly lower, I manage to slide my wand in between the first two toes on my left foot and grip it. I raise my feet up slightly, mildly relieving my spine and pointing my wand directly at Mulciber's bulbous, bald head.
"Christ in heaven, Severus, did your mom fuck a cat or something?", Rosier quipped, straightening his cowboy hat.
"Worse.", I replied, closing one eye to aim. "She fucked a muggle."
Sparks flew from my wand and pelted Mulciber square in the face. When they dissipated, the room erupted in laughter at the rotating circle of disembodied cocks now orbiting around his shining, bald head. Laughter met with applause as I tossed my wand in the air with my foot, flung my legs back over my head and used the momentum to back flip to a standing position again, catching my wand in my hand all in one swift motion.
"I think Severus had better end the show here, lest Miss Piggy flood us out with her wetness!", A raspy voice called out.
"Shut it, Macnair!", Bellatrix hollered angrily, her round, fleshy face flushing scarlet.
I was sliding my feet back into my black boots as Mulciber rose from his seat, letting his chair clunk loudly and ungracefully upon the wood floor, showing his anger as a three-year-old who got sent to time-out would.
"Take them off, NOW!", He screamed, his lower jaw protruding in front of him like a bulldog.
"Is that how we ask for something, fuckboy?", I respond. A wave of discomfort and anxiousness was slowly smothering the mirth and laughter in the common room.
Fire formed in Mulciber's eyes and the tendons in his beefy neck became visible. "Listen you fucking Cirque Du Soleil reject, I have a date in five minutes. Just take this shit off of me."
A long pause ensued. Mulciber was becoming more incensed by the second and I couldn't help but revel in it. "Okay.", I finally answered.
Mulciber rolled his eyes and huffed, attempting to mask his relief that there would be no further conflict between he and I...or would there?
"However! Not before...you've paid your respects...", I extend my foot outward. "Lick my boots, cock waxer." Several of the women gasped and more nervous whispers were exchanged. The entire room waited on baited breath for what would come next.
"You're insane, half-blood...", Mulciber said, incredulous.
"That's half-blood Prince to the likes of you. And you can either kneel and start licking or you can fuck your skag tonight with four cocks instead of one."
"Severus, please, just take it off him...", Narcissa beseeched softly.
"Narcissa, the men are talking.", I warned her, holding a hand to her face and turning my eyes back to Mulciber, who's bulky shoulders were dramatically rising and falling with each exaggerated, infuriated breath. I spread my arms out to either side, my palms open and facing him. "Here I stand, Mulciber. You can pick a fight, if you'd like, but I can tell you that no one else knows the counter-curse to that spell. It's of my own invention, you see.", I briefly diverted my eyes to the sight of an exasperated Narcissa marching over to Lucius.
"Lucius, you're Head Boy, do something...", She half-whispered, half-hissed.
Lucius raised a hand to silence her. "Go to bed, Cissy."
With a very teenage-girlish grunt and a wave of her silvery blonde hair she stormed off into the girls' dormitories, and with that, the only person in the room who had the gall to stand up for Mulciber had gone.
Mulciber scanned the room, as if to look for anyone else who would speak up on his behalf. Every gaze he met fell to the floor and not a single word was spoken. He turned to meet my unflinching visage once more and I could tell he was still entertaining notions of simply zerg rushing me with his fists...until Rosier stood beside me.
Rosier took the guitar pic from the leather band in his cowboy hat and gracefully ran it across the strings of his guitar, making them sing. His fingers artfully flew across the instrument, breaking into a Renaissance-esque sounding riff. When his lyrics joined the song, I couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear.
"And what might have you?
The dread King said,
That I'd lay down my sword,
Bend your knee,
And bow to me,
Lest your kingdom face my horde."
I smiled at Mulciber and wiggled my foot in his direction. Just as he took a step toward me, Bellatrix joined in, clapping to the beat. From the far end of the room someone else could be heard adding to the rhythm. It was Dolohov, tapping his spear against the floor. At the poker table, Rodolphous began clapping as well, and his brother followed suit. Lucius glanced from one crimson-haired Lestrange to the other and joined in. Even 'I don't care' Macnair began putting his hands together and getting into the groove.
"May it take a month, a year, or three,
Be it magic or steel-on-steel.
Thy streets shall run red,
Thy blood shall be shed,
And what's left of you will kneel."
Be it coincidence or divine humor, just as Rosier sang the word 'kneel' Mulciber dropped to his knees in front of me. Slytherins all through the common room howled at his submission as the room rang out in song and merry pandemonium. Mulciber looked up at me with a look of murder in his eyes so fierce I could feel the heat radiating from his body as he cupped my heel in his palm.
He spoke in a low, throaty growl. "You listen to me you half-blood wannabe royalty cocksucker...One of these days, I'm gonna take care of you. One day you're gonna disappear, you little shit, and nobody, I mean NOBODY, not even your filthy mugglefucker mommy will find your corpse. I'm gonna fuck you over, Severus Snape...I'm gonna fuck you over..."
And maybe one day he would, but that night his words were washed away in a sea of song and his threat was heard by no one.
…...
-Spinner's End, 1968-
In the cool gray light of a Spinner's End morning, two children occupied a dreary kitchen. One pictured the other in tears, while the other pictured the boy across from him without skin.
"Read it and weep, asshole!"
The older, silvery-blonde haired boy whipped a scroll of paper down in front of the raven haired boy so hard it gave a loud crack, causing him to look up casually from his glass of milk. The elegant, curling cursive on the parchment read:
Dear Mr. Viserus Prince,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September the 1st, we await your owl by no later than July the 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore.
"Looks like I'm blowing this pop stand, come fall. I would say how dearly I'll miss you and the laughing lard ball downstairs...only I won't.", Viserus tossed his shoulder length hair back with a graceful wave of his hand and haughtily surveyed his surroundings, as if it still hadn't sunk in that he'd been living there for the past eight years. "This place can burn down for all I care while I'm gone and nothing of value would be lost...", He chuckled softly.
The dark haired boy said nothing, only slurped his milk.
"Don't you fret, sweet Sevvy, you'll get one too. They say the current headmaster is some soft-in-the-head bleeding heart liberal who will just let anyone in..." He closed the distance between them and condescendingly placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "...Even shitbloods." His tone saturated the word in so much venom that it dripped contempt. Viserus gave another cavalier hair-flip and walked away tittering to himself as if his juvenile name-slinging was pure comedic genius.
Sevvy Shitblood, as he was so often called, listened as his older brother's footsteps rhythmically faded up the stairs to his large, private, second floor bedroom. He took a sip of his milk. He could still feel the phantom sensation of Viserus' hand on his shoulder, where the prat had dared touch him. Severus inhaled deeply through his nose, which even at the age of eight, reflected a hooked, beak-like protuberance. He slurped his milk and simply took in the sounds around him. A neighbor's rottweiler barked and howled incessantly. In the distance, he could make out the sound of the town lunatic screaming about something that had to do with someone called 'the puppet master', a sound as familiar and clockwork as birds screeching at the rising sun. Faintly, he could hear the chainsaw-esque sound of his younger sister snoring in the basement they shared as a bedroom. At the far corner of the room, a fly buzzed.
The boy drained his milk glass and hopped down from his seat, giving his head a small shake to clear the dark, feathery hair from his eyes. A tune caught in his head and he began whistling to himself as he grabbed a fresh glass from the cabinet. He opened the fridge and scanned the items shelf by shelf until his eyes fell upon the deep red bottle he was looking for. He popped the top and let the crimson contents fill the glass halfway.
Carefree and whistling still, he set the glass of Kool-Aide down on the counter and opened the cabinet underneath the sink, a small spider retreating behind a bottle of Windex as he did so. He gingerly brushed his long, slender fingers across each of the bottles of cleaners and household chemicals until they closed around the white, plastic handle of a jug of bleach. Gently, he unscrewed the cap and added just a dash to the glass. When all the necessary ingredients were added to his concoction, he carefully took the glass and held it before his face, a line creasing his smooth, ageless brows as he eyed it with as much intensity as a seasoned chemist would. With a few slow, deliberate twirls of his wrist the two liquids became one and what was a sugary drink was now poison. As a finishing touch, he retrieved a small eye-drop bottle full of scent-neutralizer from his pocket that he had been working on for the past couple of days and carefully added two drops to the glass. A perfect time to test the experimental product.
Bleach-spiked Kool-Aide in hand, he made his way to the second floor of his shabby home in the thick of the slum that was Spinner's End. The sitting room windows cast gray squares of light along the steps and he took a moment to look out upon his world. Along the sidewalk a young man strode, wearing his pants so low he may as well have left home in his boxers. A middle-aged woman crossed paths with him and in the span of half a heartbeat their hands met, one containing a tightly-rolled wad of bills and the other containing a bag of fine white powder. They don't call it Cokeworth for nothing...Severus mused. A few yards down the street he could see an elderly woman working diligently with seed and spade to cultivate a garden that would never grow, as there was most likely enough radiation festering in the soil to give solid stone cancer. He felt his seventh toe itch at the thought.
He continued up the stairs and reached Viserus' room. On his door hung a large poster of some 'roided out, brain dead looking Quidditch star named Hans Grueber. Severus knocked. Viserus answered and looked down with irritation at the younger boy holding the red beverage, annoyed to be bothered whilst in his private quarters.
"And what do you want? Is Mandarys out of panties to sniff so you thought you'd come through my drawers?", His half-brother quipped, smirking.
Severus ignored the insult to he and his sister and offered up the Kool-Aide. "Made you a potion." He said with a smile.
Viserus scoffed and chuckled. "A potion? What in the thirteen layers of hell would you know about making potions?"
"I'm kidding.", Severus drawled with a cocked eyebrow.
The two stared at each other for a moment, one calm and cold as virgin snow and one annoyed and quizzical.
"You know", Severus chimed in, breaking the silence. "It's perfectly in your right to question me, dislike me...hate me even, and for that matter, fear me.", He spoke the last words in barely a whisper, serenading the older boy's impending rage.
Viserus' eyes narrowed and a small half-chuckle escaped the parted lips of his cold false smile. "What'd you say to me, shitblood?"
Severus rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Nothing, brother. I'll just take this back downstairs.", His feathery black hair fluttered slightly as he casually turned his back to a fuming Viserus. A sudden hard clap on the shoulder by a tense hand kept him grounded to the spot he stood. Severus looked coolly into flaming hazel eyes.
"Give me the fucking drink."
Too easy.
Viserus Prince was not a dull-witted boy. But Severus knew that while his wits were sharp, his pride was tragically soft. The boy would swallow cyanide if it could grow a mouth and taunt him.
His older brother ripped the glass from his hand, sloshing sticky sugary crimson poison down his porcelain pale fingers.
He held the glass under his nose, turned the liquid in his hand as if it were a fine wine and sniffed. "So! Sevvy shitblood decided to try his grubby little hands at potion making? Well, it smells like nothing more than plain old Kool Aide to me. Heh, trying to pass a glass of Kool Aide off as a potion", he said half to himself. "You spend too much time with the laughing lard ball. You're starting to slip brother, starting to slip.", he waved a teasing finger at the younger boy, all suspicions forgotten. "Am I still allowed to taste it, brother? Or were you planning on saving it for Slughorn as your thesis?", Icy titters escaped Viserus' perfect toothed grin in amusement at his own bland humor.
Severus showed his open palms to the older boy and bowed slightly. "By all means, brother."
Viserus gave one more toothy chuckle and smirked to no one in particular. Severus' heart lept as his glittering black eyes watched Viserus raise the glass to his lips. Adrenaline cascaded through his small body and his breaths became more rushed. The glass pressing to the older boy's mouth was like a shot of heroin blossoming over a hardened junkie's system that had Severus looking on in frozen blissful anticipation.
"A potion he says-", Viserus' taunting words jammed in his throat as the Kool Aide concoction hit him. For a moment, it was all he could do to stand and stare blank faced down the hallway as his breath stilled and his face became pale as the hair on his head. His pupils had shrunk down to pinpoints as he turned his eyes to his brother. The usually sullen-faced boy was smiling with abandon as he watched his potion slowly murder Viserus from the inside out. The crooked-toothed grin looked about as natural on him as stilettos and a miniskirt, but he saved it for such occasions as this.
"So, brother,", Severus addressed Viserus casual as day. "How do you like my potion?"
Viserus made an attempt to speak, but all that came from his parted mouth were vile, gut-wrenching noises that sounded like a mix of hissing, gurgling, and the pathetic whine of a puppy learning to howl.
He made to take a step backward, but his legs betrayed him, folding like a cheap tuxedo the moment they pressed to the floor. The now-contaminated blood that was coursing through his veins painted his porcelain face in shades of chartreuse and stone gray putrescence. His eyes were bulging, shaking hazel orbs fixated upon his small, raven-haired assassin in frozen terror and savage agony.
The would-be murderer only looked on in silence. His large, hooked nose crinkled as his smiling face twisted further still in sadistic ecstasy. Inside his thin, bony chest his heart was adance with bloodlust. With a princely saunter he closed the distance between him and Viserus, the gaunt, stark shadow he cast blanketing his brother in darkness. One would only need look into his cold black eyes, hungrily gorging on the pathetic figure at his feet, to behold the preternatural dominance he displayed, making him seem far more man than child.
In utter panic Viserus opened a desperate hand to his brother...and that was when Severus knew he had broken the boy...for today at least. He reached a hand into the pocket of his jeans and curled his fingers around the glass vial inside. For just a moment more, he savored the sight of his brother's suffering as if it were the sweetest final drop of a fine champagne, shuddering like a climaxed lover in the final moments of his rapture.
Gracefully he drew the vial from his pocket, dangling it two-fingered by the neck. With crooked, pursed lips, he considered the boy, and then, putting his hands on his hip, he raised his left leg, rolling his foot by the ankle tauntingly in his brother's face.
"If you want the serum that's going to save your worthless skin you know what you have to do.", Severus offered, twirling the small container of amber liquid between his fore and middle finger.
A trembling, gray lipped grimace crossed Viserus' face. Summoning the last of the life in him he managed a dissenting nod. Severus' brow furrowed and swiftly he dealt a sidelong kick to the boy's jaw, causing his arms to fail him and his chest to slam onto the floor. Wordlessly, his brother shoved a more insistent foot into his face, and Viserus, debased and defeated, spent the last of his strength cupping Severus' shoe in his hand and gently drawing his sandpaper dry tongue across its sole.
Gooseflesh blossomed across the flesh of a very satisfied Severus and nearly purring he knelt down to his prone brother's level, smiling softly. He popped the tiny cork off the vial and with mock bedside manner ran his thin fingers through his brother's hair...and yanked sharply at the ends, forcing Viserus' eyes to meet his own.
"Wave your Hogwarts letter in my face again, brother, and you'll have to fish it out of your own cunt."
Severus, with his lesson now taught, shelved the murder in his heart and administer his antidote with cold professionalism, cradling Viserus' head in his right hand and coaxing the serum into his mouth with his left, as if he were nursing an infant.
When the contents of the vial were spent and his brother released his hold on him, the older boy just laid on the ground gasping for breath and gazing blankly at the ceiling, and then with a wet, choking sound he quickly flipped himself over and spilled the reddish-brown contents of his stomach onto the hardwood floor. A color that almost resembled a normal human shade flushed his cheeks, and heaving, he spilled more bloodied chunks from his mouth. For a time, Severus just silently watched as a river of blood, vomit and bile flowed from his brother like a scarlet-faced gargoyle. Of course, when Viserus found his voice again, the screaming began.
"MOOOM! TOBY! SEVERUS TRIED TO POISON ME!"
In half a heartbeat the sound of a small stampede could be heard shaking the walls, but, it was not Severus' parents running from the master bedroom down the hall to aid their eldest. This was the sound of small feet, attached to a stout, chubby body running up a flight of stairs...
With a speed that betrayed her size she was upon them in fragments of a second. Her blue-gray eyes absorbed the boy crawling on the floor through his own putrescence and her mouth looked at first as if she were trying to form the words 'what happened?', but before anything intelligible could escape her, the corners of her overly-large mouth split her face from ear-to-ear, baring her crooked, jagged, far too many teeth.
"Heh heh aha ahaha ahahahaha AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The hyena was in full force.
Mandarys Snape, pointing hand outstretched towards the suffering boy, continued to search for words to say to her brother, Severus, but all were swept away in gales of breathless laughter. She laughed until she was gasping as hard as Viserus, she laughed until tears welled in her eyes, she laughed until her limp, mouse brown hair fell in bedraggled tangles about her face, giving her the appearance of some sort of Jim Henderson-esque monster.
Eileen Prince sprung from her bed that morning to the familiar, but no less dreaded sound she had awoken to on so many others. The sound of screaming, the sound of cackling, and worst of all, the sound of silence. With a frustrated grunt, she threw the graying-white comforter from her legs and roughly shook her husband awake.
"Hmmrrggh?", Groaned the pile of covers beside her.
"They're at it again, Toby.", She responded curtly, taking a moment to brace herself for whatever pandemonium lay beyond the threshold of her bedroom.
When she opened her eyes to the corridor beyond, icy claws of terror sunk themselves into her heart at the sight of her firstborn on the floor. Her breath stopped in her chest as she sprinted forward and dove over him, covering his body with her own.
"Viserus?! Viserus, dearheart, what happened to you?!", She asked, shaking him slightly with panic-stricken hands. He began to speak, but his words were thundered over by a gruff, throaty roar.
"WHAT THE CHRIST DID YOU DO?!"
Tobias Snape's callused fist was gripped around a folded belt so tightly, it pulsed purple. As always, the stomping, heaving, spitting man's bulged eyes drifted right over Severus, as if he were a spider on the wall, and fell directly upon the short, stocky girl who shared so much of his own likeness.
"It was the girl, wasn't it, Vis?", Tobias asked his son, keeping his eyes firmly locked on Mandarys.
Viserus opened his mouth to answer, but was once again derailed Tobias' frenzied hollering.
"I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT WAS HER!", His cry was punctuated with a loud crack as his black, leather belt lashed Mandarys across the mouth.
Mandarys, who's visage was never complete without a lash mark or two, took a finger and gingerly blotted a small trickle of blood that began to ooze from the corner of her mouth. Bemusedly, she gazed at her blood, then back at her father and raised a coy eyebrow. "Is that all you got, chucklehead?" And with that she threw her round rear end over the bannister and slid down, giving way to that morning's chase.
Eileen and Severus only looked on in mild distraction at the now almost daily occurrence. To date, Tobias had laid the blame on Mandarys for 27 of Viserus' injuries, 14 miscellaneous household accidents, Eileen's second miscarriage, 3 basement floodings, his receding hairline, 4 terrorist bombings, the decline of the middle class, 2 natural disasters, a part in the Kennedy assassination, the looming threat of communism, and 5 separate threats to the UN.
"You little SHIT! I swear I'm gonna send you back to the hell you came from!", Tobias bellowed as he bolted down the stairs after the child he detested so much.
Eileen, however, was not so blinded by imagined prejudice. She gently released her hold on Viserus and turned to the silent observer casually leaning on the wall. "Severus, what did you do to him?", she asked in the most reserved manner she could, giving her middle child a chance to come clean before she opened the gates of hell on him.
Severus only examined his own fingernails in cool silence.
"What have you done here, Severus? I won't ask again."
Silence.
With an animalistic growl, Eileen bounded on the young boy like a panther, gripping him by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the ground to meet her at eye level.
"WHAT DID YOU DO!?", She screamed, shaking him.
"I thought you said you weren't going to ask again.", Severus replied coolly.
With another grunt, Eileen flung Severus to the floor, teeth bared and staring daggers at him. "I'll deal with you later.", She threatened through clenched teeth as she made to call St. Mungo's, turning her back towards the broken dream that was her family.