"Mirror in the bathroom recompense, for all my crimes of self-defense. Cures you whisper make no sense. Drift gently into mental illness." -Mirror in the Bathroom, English Beat
The rays of the setting California sunshine cast low, amber shadows off the various glimmering, stainless steel objects in the bathroom.
I dropped the rolled up dollar bill upon the vanity shelf and pulled up sharply, sniffling hard.
'Who wants to see me take off snivellus' trousers?', An echo of a painful memory from nearly a decade past called out, but soon fell silent to a wave of numbness that washed over me as the stuff began to take hold, enough to stifle my heart and let my head weigh this ever taxing decision. I drew a deep breath and examined my own haggard face in the bathroom mirror. Seventy-two hours straight of sleeplessness, rumination, pro and con lists, and unfettered memories scratching at my brain had aged me a thousand years within the span of three days. I ran my fingers under the faucet and attempted to groom the crow's nest that my hair had become, to no avail. I opted to hide it under the golden crown of Severus the Conqueror. A thin rivulet of blood trickled out from my left nostril and I quickly wiped it away before walking out to the bedroom. I took the orb that was lying on the bedside table in hand, the accursed thing I had been studying relentlessly for hours on end, and adjourned to the balcony.
The balmy perfume of salty fresh beach air instantly soothed my irritated nose. I leaned over the gold and ivory bannister and held the orb before my face for what seemed like the nine-hundredth time. A curved, inverted Pacific ocean crashed upon a palm tree lined shore in its glassy surface, and within that, a ghostly image of Sybil Trelawney spoke the word of fate itself.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
I'd watched the Merlin forsaken thing so many times I had every damn word committed to memory.
"Neither can live while the other survives...born as the seventh month dies..."
A warm, grassy Quidditch pitch flashed through my mind's eye, unbidden, the sun painting her hair as bright scarlet as a rose.
"Are you a pig, Sev?"
"No baby, I'm the butcher!"
Her features turned from curious, to angry, and then faded into resigned disappointment. Her emerald eyes bore into mine. Always knowing, always weighing, always judging. She understood so much about me, yet at the same time so little.
But now it was my turn to judge. To be the judge, jury, and executioner. The crown of Severus the Conqueror weighed as heavy on my head as the decision weighed heavy on my soul.
"I'm sorry."
"Save your breath."
And the ghosts of the past echoed...
"What did you want to talk to me about?"
"I just thought...it's been years now, Sev, and I thought maybe it was about time we buried the hatchet, you know? I'm getting married soon, and I'd be honored if you- what- what's that on your arm?"
And echoed.
"Hello?"
"Hi...Listen, I don't...I don't know what this looks like-"
"How did you get this number?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't know where you are, Sev, I don't know what you're doing, what you've done, and truth be told I don't want to. Just please...tell me that you're ok..."
With the sweet stuff creeping through my veins and soothing my nerves I felt like an outsider in my own body, as if I were watching a montage of sorrowful events from someone else's life. Yet still, her eyes managed to sting my drugged and desensitized heart. An unexplained, almost masochistic urge brought my hand to my cloak pocket, and without thinking I brought the photograph that was inside up to my face.
The glossy Polaroid showed two sunlight bathed happy children arm-in-arm, one angelic looking with hair so red it practically glowed, and one scrawny, dark, and awkward. A smile never really was quite becoming on me.
The waves of the Pacific spilled and ebbed upon the smooth, powdery shoreline as I looked into the faces of children from a time long lost and passed. A moment in young lives that so strongly and misleadingly painted a picture of a bright and blissful future that would never happen, but instead would end in blood and tears...if I chose it so. If I chose it so. As of yet, nothing had been set in motion. The streets of England lay sleeping in the thick of pre-dawn darkness, the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort both none the wiser. I could keep it that way...I could toss this piece of glass into the sea right now and no one would ever know, Lily would stay out of harm's way and nothing would change...If it just weren't for the fact that things had to. It all came down to that. I wish to Merlin things didn't have to be this way, but they had to. There was no point in agonizing any further over a decision I knew the answer to from the start.
With shaking hands I fumbled for a cigarette, and struck a match behind my curved hand to shield it from the shore winds. As I inhaled, something my grandfather used to say suddenly came to me...though they were words of little comfort.
"There is no progress without sacrifice, Severus, no progress without sacrifice..."
I held the photograph up to the fading light and looked it over once more, gazing into the eyes of that little girl who even then everyone knew would grow into a striking beauty, a kind soul, a bright light in a world that was losing hope with every uneasy breath...
Who would come to be known as the brave young mother who's life was tragically cut short at the hands of the Dark Lord.
What purpose did it serve to cling to the past when the future held so many possibilities?
I took another drag of the cigarette, then brought the lit end to the corner of the Polaroid. The smell of smoldering paper and plastic filled the air around me and I watched as the two cherubic faces warped into blackened kindling and were then devoured by flames. With a gentle blow I snuffed out the small fire, sending glowing red-black embers to be carried by the ocean breeze into the fleeting dusk horizon, chasing the last light of the sun.
She was already dead to me, anyway.
…...
The harsh fluorescent lighting of St. Mungo's emergency room highlighted every single frown, stress, and worry line that had been carved into Eileen Snape's face for the past eight years. She sat slumping exhaustedly in the uncomfortable waiting room chair and laid her head in her hand, as if somehow obscuring her face could hide her from the embarrassment of this being their fifth trip to St. Mungo's since Severus was born. Not counting of course, the event of Severus' birth here.
Eileen had aged a lifetime since that day. No longer was she the smooth faced, doe eyed, exotic looking and sounding young woman who had arrived at Cokeworth so long ago. Spinner's End had become a part of her and she a part of it, leaving her indistinguishable from any other weathered soul that walked the streets of that impoverished, squalid town. As fatigue crept up on her, her mind wandered to the question that had become the theme of her life: Where had things gone so wrong? How had her life so drastically crashed and burned right under her nose? Why had her fresh start gone so sour? No matter how she tried to dodge the thought, deep down she knew the answer to those question sat beside her.
Her second son sat casually examining his slender fingers with his usual look of calm boredom on his face as if it were just any other morning. No concern, no fear, no remorse. In fact, she could scarcely recall a single time in her life that she ever caught Severus showing such emotions. As far as she knew, he only had a range of three: Quiet serenity, anger, and a bizarre, sadistic playfulness that she was entirely too familiar with. Her father had it in spades. She saw it quite literally from the time Severus spoke his first words at the age of two: "Eat shit, Viserus."
Severus had uttered them loudly at his brother whilst he crawled at the top of the stairs. Viserus came charging at the small boy, but Severus managed to deadweight himself between Viserus' feet, sending him flying rear-over-head down the stairs. A bloody, bone-shattered, unconscious Viserus resulted in trip number one to St. Mungo's, and one macing, an electrocution, a couple of 3rd degree burns and a poisoning later, here they were again. Eileen didn't know how to make excuses for this anymore. What were you supposed to say to people when one of your children was hell bent on killing the other? What is one to do with a boy who develops a knack for devious sadism before motor skills? What kind of parent-
"Is Viserus going to die, mom?"
"What?", Eileen responded, startled out of her reverie by a round-faced, 7-year-old girl leaning on her chair.
"Viserus, is he going to die?"
You would like that wouldn't you? "No, Mandarys, the healers have managed to flush the bleach out of his system and he's recovering as we speak.", she told her daughter with a gritted-toothed smile.
"Oh", softly spoke a disappointed Mandarys. Quickly becoming bored, her pale, blue-gray eyes darted to an inviting bowl of candy that had been charmed with glowing letters reading "take one" sitting on the desk of the nurses' station. She made her awkward, chubby run over and dug her hand into it the moment no one was looking and shoved as much candy in her face as her round cheeks could hold.
Eileen's little girl had a leaning toward corpulence every since she was a baby. She couldn't even look at her without seeing a recolored version of Aunt Jenny's childhood photos. My little girl...she mused within her head.
For it was the fact that she was Eileen's little girl that was her only saving grace which granted her passage to this world. She was just shy of a year younger than Severus. When she had broke the news to her husband, he had cracked up and guffawed drunkenly in her face, and when the tears welled up in her eyes, so did the tears in his. They had spent the rest of that night huddled in the cold of their bedroom discussing options. It was decided that an abortion would cost far less money in the long run than another child. The EPA had been cracking down hard on Cokeworth Energy and Tobias being the next one to be laid off was a fear that hung over their heads every day and night.
Eileen had gone to the women's clinic the very next morning. It was best they nip it in the bud as soon as possible. If only they hadn't asked her if she wanted to see the baby, and if only she hadn't said yes, and if only she hadn't seen it as their first little girl, and if only that fact hadn't sent her straight home with a baby still in tow, and if only it had been worth it in the end. Good God in heaven if it had only been worth it.
Eileen and Tobias Snape were never blessed with a little girl. They were instead cursed with a sentient, physical representation of Tobias' drunken tirades and Eileen's regretful tears. A work of art in sadistic irony. If they had needed any further convincing that the very cosmos themselves were laughing at the absurdity of their dysfunctional family, Mandarys Snape was that proof. For it seemed that Mandarys, even at the age of seven, held fast to one simple philosophy: That life and everything in it was a joke. Civility, empathy, legality, and humanity be damned, if there was a prank to be had, then it would be had at any expense. She was a child that smiled often and laughed readily, as if she was privy to some in-joke that no one else knew.
Her primary source of entertainment was none other than the ever intensifying antics of Severus. Wherever Severus was, the laughing, round girl was not far behind. Whenever Eileen heard the hyena-esque guffaws of Mandarys and her older brother's low, soft chuckle she could bet 50 galleons that it was time to either rush Viserus to St. Mungo's, apologize to a neighbor, call the fire department, bribe a police officer, or explain to the F.B.I and Secret Service that no, there were going to be no "snipers with nano-technology weapons camping in the trees of the White House" tomorrow unless 5 Million U.S Dollars were left outside the oak tree outside of Cokeworth Elementary. Severus had both a co-conspirator and an audience in Mandarys, a symbiotic relationship that rained terror and chaos upon their family which only raged on and on as her two younger children grew older.
Viserus was no angel either. The constant assualts upon him by his siblings had turned her calm, happy toddler into a high strung, angry, reflexively abrasive pre-teen. Her firstborn had developed a shell of pure brimstone, piss and vinegar over the years to keep him on his toes from the younger two. He didn't really open up to anyone, except perhaps the bevy of young girls that even at the age of 11 had taken to him. Could she really blame them either? Viserus was a rare gem in their family, of bright eyes, a defined jawline and a smile that beamed confidence. He was of pure Prince blood, through and through, unlike Mandarys, a chubby little girl with Tobias' features, and Severus, who Eileen had always considered to be a rather rat-faced child.
Eileen's train of thought had suddenly been derailed when her dark eyes ran across a handsome face on the lobby television screen. There was some kind of live music program on and the Beach Boys were performing when all of a sudden they brought a guest on stage. The tall, handsome stranger smiled shyly, his dark brown eyes glittering in the summer sun. He had thick, shiny, shoulder length chocolate brown hair that danced about his shoulders in loose, lazy waves. His shy, humble grin was framed by a short yet full beard.
"Now who have you got here for us, Terry?", asked the Beach Boys' lead singer.
The scrawny young man named 'Terry' looked to his tall, dark, and handsome companion and said: "Why don't you introduce yourself, Charlie?"
'Charlie' nervously took up the microphone and addressed the crowd. "Hey there ladies and gents, my name is Charles", he flipped his soft, thick hair away from his face and shot a piercing look straight into the camera with glittering dark eyes, "Charles Manson." In one swift, fluid motion he brought the guitar that was strapped over his shoulder to the front of him and began to tune it slightly. "I thought I'd stick to a song that would bring my friends, the Beach Boys, some money today. This one here is for the youngsters!", he called out with mello enthusiasm.
His fingers nimbly flew over the instrument, producing an airy, jubilant melody, one that filled Eileen's mind with images of summer and the seashore. It was then that a far more heavenly sound fell upon the silent crowd, it was the voice of Charles Manson raised in song.
Your home is where you're happy,
It's not where you're not free.
He may have been singing a youngsters' ditty, but his voice was the most sexual music she had heard in a long, long time. A young, rough masculinity enveloped in a rich sweetness, like black coffee garnished with caramel.
Your home is where you can be who you are, 'cause you just want to be.
You can have a castle, and diamonds for all to see.
Though you'll never have that piece of mind,
Until you've learned to be free.
His sparkling eyes, his angelic voice which seemed to glide over every range of notes perceivable to the human ear, his smile charming enough to cure cancer, Eileen did not know what to focus on. Charles Manson was the kind of man who had such a presence to him the human system did not have enough senses to take him in at once.
So burn all your bridges...
Leave the old life behind...
She caught a snippet of conversation to the left of her, Severus and Mandarys absorbed in a private discussion as usual, but she tuned them out as quickly as they caught her attention. Mandarys was pointing to the television screen and it had sounded like she whispered the words "I have a bad feeling about that one." What would she know about music?, Eileen thought to herself
You can do what you want to do
Because you're strong in your mind.
She drank his words like champagne. His voice coupled with the melody melted away her stress and anxiety like steel at a foundry, that was until a bleach-blonde, gum chewing, technician shuffled out of the large double doors and called "Mrs. Snape!"
With a heavy sigh and a forced smile, she turned away from the wonder that was Charlie Manson and greeted the staff member with all the Sunday morning pleasantry she could muster, but she could practically hear aloud what lay behind her heavily painted eyes: 'That Snape woman is here again.' With an even faker smile, the young lady led her down the brightly lit bustling corridor of St. Mungo's. Discreetly, she popped a quaalude from her purse, gazing absently over room after room of hexes gone haywire, Quidditch accidents, animal attacks, and one practically ancient man who was screaming to his family that he had 'saved this country's sorry candied arse' in World War I and would not be leaving here with a modded wand for the elderly. Eileen had only one thing on her mind: Get out of here without an encounter from Children's Services. She had managed to be free of them thus far, but she didn't know how many more hospital visits it would take before she was on their radar.
The Tech finally opened the door to room 1202 and led her inside. It was there she was greeted by a weak, reassuring wave from her eldest son and the beaming red face of Dr. Archibald McDermott.
"Aaaaaahh! Mrs. Snape! My best customer!", He bellowed in his loud, Scottish-tinged dialect.
"Why Dr. Archibald, we see you so often how could I not be? Why you could probably put your children through college on Viserus alone.", she let out an overly loud titter of nervous laughter. Be easy, make a joke of it. If you take it lightly perhaps he will too...
"Well Mrs. Snape, we gave 'im the best flushing potions that we had, that we did. We'll fix him up with some vitamins and he'll be right as rain, I tell ya, right as rain! Ain't we gonna be, lad!", Dr. McDermott excitedly clapped Viserus on the shoulder, causing him to grunt and almost double over in a wave of nausea, but Viserus managed to catch himself and offer Dr. McDermott a waspish smile and nod. Eileen gently took her son tightly in her arms and kissed him on the forehead, asking him how he was feeling and if there was anything she could do. Of course, It would be a lot easier to play up the doting parent angle if Viserus wasn't swatting at her to get off of him like a wildcat. Finally, when he had had enough he simply shoved her, sending her stumbling towards Dr. McDermott, who caught her with not quite the gracefulness of a dancer.
Eileen straightened out her hair and gave him a girlish giggle that was edged with anxiety sharp as razors. "He's..um..cranky, you know...bleaching and all..." Jesus Christ that's terrible. She could feel her face turning about as read as Dr. McDermott's hair. Words had completely failed her. She did not know what else she could possibly say to make this situation seem any better than it was. Her last resort was to change the subject.
"So! How...shall we pay you...Dr. McDermott?", She could feel a tiny rivulet of sweat roll down her forehead and settle in the crease of her nose.
Dr. McDermott offered her his best Scotsman smile, but took on a tone that was far more business-like. "Mrs. Snape, I think it would be best if we continue this conversation in my office..privately."
Shit. Her face flashed from scarlet to stark white in an instant as all pretense fell. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, drumming out all other thought. She could already see Children's Services busting in the room and taking Viserus away and hauling her and Tobias to jail. Visions of a cold, damp cell in Azkaban flooded her mind; Judges screaming for her and her husband to answer for their crimes against parenting; Viserus tucked away in some foster home in a trailer park on some forgotten expanse of the Midwest; Severus and Mandarys pissing and dancing on her and Toby's grave, their twisted, demonic faces full of bloodlust; cornering her, coming closer and closer to reveal their eyes as empty sockets and their jaws distended with sharp, pointed, teeth, ready to tear the flesh off of her face... "Mrs. Snape.", she looked to Dr. McDermott's patient grin as he held the door to his small office open for her, snapping her back to reality. "Yes sir, of course, sir." She managed to return his smile by the grace of her quaaluude alone and took a seat in his office as he shut the door behind them.
He sat across from her and removed his glasses, his manner remaining cordial yet serious. She let her eyes linger between the clock, the various filing cabinets which lined the walls, and a hoaky motivational poster which pictured a kitten suspended from a clothesline, captioned with the words 'hang in there baby.' Anything to keep from meeting his eyes.
"Now Mrs. Snape, you know that we here at St. Mungo's try our best to do our jobs and not..pry into the personal matters of our patients. However, when a child comes to us with his fourth serious, and better yet, unusual injury within a two-year period, we have certain, how should I say this, obligations to investigate as to whether the child in question is living in a...safe environ-"
"It's the middle boy.", she cut across him.
"Pardon me?"
"The middle boy, Severus. Mandarys too, the youngest, she's in on it." It was like verbal diarrhea that propelled itself from her mouth. Her last line of defense, the truth, seasoned with some sobs for good measure. If the authorities were coming to get her and there was nothing she could do about it, she may as well let everyone know who the real criminals were.
Dr. McDermott rubbed his prickly, ginger beard. "Are you meaning to tell me that it's the younger boy who's behind all this nastiness happening to the older one?"
She let her body be wracked by an exaggerated sob. "I don't know what to do with him, Doctor, I've tried everything. I've tried punishment, I've tried talking to him, I've tried diet changes, nothing helps." , She managed to force some light tears down her cheeks. "He's just...out of control." She put on her best 'damsel in distress' face and let her gaze slowly meet his, crocodile tears and all.
She watched as his bright blue eyes looked deeply into her dark ones and quickly he pursed his mouth and dropped his gaze to the floor. In that one unspoken communication, Eileen knew that she had gained his sympathy.
"Well, I...I'm sorry, lassie, he spoke softly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. I didn't know it was as much as all that.", He stroked Eileen's back as she appeared to be weeping in earnest. "Tell me, what are this younger boy's...activities? What are his interests?"
Eileen pulled her face from her hands and sniffed hard. "I..I don't really...reading, I suppose, and potion making.", She added in stern certainty. She noticed that he had been dabbling in her spare potion equipment since he had hands enough to hold them...specifically the poisons.
"Ah, well there's the problem now, Lassie. A boy of that age needs a way of tirin' himself! Getting himself wound down! Ridding the excess energy from himself-"
"I'm sorry?"
"A sport Mrs. Snape. A boy endowed with that kind of...aggression aught to be involved in some sort of athletic activity. I'm sure if the youngster had an outlet for his energy he'd be easier to handle at home.", Dr. McDermott offered.
"Really? What would you suggest?" Eileen could finally breathe again knowing that the focus of the conversation had been taken off of her and she intended to keep it that way.
"How about Quidditch?", He suggested with a grin that practically split his face in half.
She took in a hissing breath through her teeth. "Yeah...I don't know if contact sports would necessarily be the best thing for Severus.", She explained kindly. She could already picture the parents blowing up their phone lines about their children being dismembered. "Isn't there anything he could do...alone?"
Dr. McDermott paused and stroked his beard. "I suppose there are things like rock climbing, or archery or gymnastics."
"That's perfect!", She exclaimed suddendly.
Dr. McDermott eyed her curiously.
"I just remembered, there's this gymnastics place not far from where we live. Seniore uh...Seniore some guy or other. I don't see what could possibly go wrong with that."
"Aye, it's settled then. Gymnastics it is."
"I could enroll him before the day's out.", Eileen added as she gathered her things up and headed for the door, but before she could walk out his red, meaty hand gently caught her by the shoulder. "And Mrs. Snape," he added, his voice nothing but cold business. "I shall know if you don't."
Her eyes met his, apprehensively.
"Understand, Mrs. Snape, I know it can't be easy trying to keep two unruly children out of trouble, but...if there is another incident like this...I will have no choice but to get the authorities involved.", He stated like a chiding old father.
"Mark my words Dr. McDermott, things are going to change from here on out.", there was an awkward pause as he offered her a wan smile. "And thank you."
…...
"Why don't you go to gymnastics? You could use it a lot more than I could.", Severus drawled sarcastically, as he insultingly ran his eyes up and down his mother's body.
Mandarys snorted as her hyena cackles filled the room. This was, as ever, the height of comedy for her.
"Oh, like YOU have room to talk!", Mom screamed at Mandarys, who was clutching her sides.
Even the ever reserved Severus couldn't help but chuckle unexpectedly over that, silencing his sister abruptly. They exchanged some piece of communication through their eyes and Mandarys looked to the floor.
"Do you have ANY idea how much trouble you almost got me in?," Mom spat. "It's no joke next time, You know? They're getting the cops involved, and when they come, they'll be taking you away, not me.", She threatened.
Severus didn't hesitate to call her on her bluff. He faux gasped and took on a face of obnoxious surprise. "What would we do without you?", he asked in a sarcastic voice of concern.
"You two would be separated for one thing.", She replied in a satisfied tone. "And then who would read for poor Mandarys?", She sniped, looking directly into the young girl's eyes. She was stressed, high, and wasn't pulling any punches tonight, going straight for Mandarys' sore spot.
Mandarys stood up, anger flaming beneath her stone gray eyes. She snobbishly looked Mom up and down. "Well...", she told her, biting her lip. "Your shirt looks like a dishrag.", She said, laughing and promptly heading off to their room in the basement of the house, leaving Mom and him alone to duke it out.
"So, getting back on topic," Severus told Eileen crossly, "this is the dumbest idea I've ever heard in my lifetime."
"This isn't my 'idea' Sev, this is actual consequences for your actions, a miraculous concept to you.", Mom rolled her eyes.
"And you had to go with the most chickenshit thing you could possibly think of?", Severus raised his voice. "Seriously mom? Gymnastics? Jesus fucking Christ."
"You watch your goddamn language, young man!", Mom shouted. "Look..", She sighed, "It's an hour after school each day, and it's only two streets down. It's the least you can do for almost killing Viserus.", She chided, drawing a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table.
Severus narrowed his eyes. "He was asking for it more than a half-naked mudblood bitch at a truck stop on Knockturn Alley past midnigh-"
His sentence was punctuated by a hard, stinging, backhanded slap from his mother. He looked into her crimson red face as she growled at him through teeth that looked like they were ready to shatter. "What did I tell you about that word?", She asked.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mother, I meant to say Shitblood."
"AAAAAAAAUUUGH!", She screeched as she tangled her slender fingers in her hair and turned her back to him for a moment. "Where do you even learn this filth?"
Severus scoffed "I, unlike you, Mother, actually get out of the house once in a while. Some of us actually have a life, you know.", He told her condescendingly. That's all he would care to indulge that thread of conversation, however. He didn't want his mother to get wise and start hiding the Floo powder.
"Well that's all well and good, Sev," She remarked with exacerbation and strained sarcasm. "Because you're about to be getting out of the house a lot more! You'll either be at Gymnastics class tomorrow after school, or don't bother coming home."
"Like you would even-"
"I already have the number of a good magical locksmith. You're not the only one who knows people on Knockturn Alley." She said with the smug satisfaction of finally one-upping him. As intense as Severus' desire to have the last word always was, he had his doubts that his mother was bluffing, he'd already stretched her tolerance too thin. He decided that he'd rather goof off at some godawful girls' sport for an hour than have to roomie up with the town loony in the storm drain.
"Fine, I'll humor you.", he stated flatly. "But let me tell you this", he flashed his mother a sharp look as she exhaled a cloud of gray smoke that hung in the air of the drab, ramshackle living room. "If that pathetic snot upstairs doesn't pull his head out of his arse and start watching himself, he's going to get what's coming to him. That's not a threat, not a promise, that's a fact."
His mother took on a scowl that could turn milk sour and got about two inches from his face. "The same could be said for you.", She growled to him coldly.
They stared daggers into each other in an unspoken display of dominance. Despite all of Eileen's threats and scoldings, she let her gaze be the first to fall, turning away from her son in disgust and retreating to the kitchen. Severus ran his fingers through his black, feather-like hair as he felt a budding headache begin to throb. With a stressed sigh, he made his way for the basement and disappeared into the darkness that shrouded the stairway down.
Immediately, a large insect lunged for him so fast he registered the feeling of it's twitching, long legs on his chest before he even saw it. His hand shot out reflexively and smacked the offending creature off of him and onto the concrete steps below where he crushed it hard under his boot with a satisfying crunch. These bloody cave crickets crept about the basement no matter how many times they sprayed or how many glue traps they laid down.
Thin tendrils of smoke drifted through a crack in the small basement window as Mandarys casually leaned over it dragging on a cigarette. He walked over and picked up the pack of Newports beside her and drew one for himself. "Incendio.", he softly spoke, causing a small flame to materialize in his cupped hand. He couldn't help but grin every time he pulled the stunt, wandless magic was no small feat for an eight-year-old. His sister only looked over and rolled her eyes. Mandarys certainly had magic, anyone could attest to that, but as for using it in spells she was all thumbs. Even the simplest of tasks became disasters under her command. He thought back to a time when she attempted a "no bones" spell on some buffalo wings and inadvertently transfigured their father into Alex Jones. Even now, you could still hear Tobias occasionally break into some drunken rant about how jet fuel can't melt steel beams.
"So you're really going to ballet class or whatever tomorrow?", Mandarys asked while trying to stifle a grin.
Severus blew smoke in her face. "It's gymnastics, you twit.", He paused to take another drag. "And who knows? Maybe it'll actually be fun."
"Fat chance with the creep who runs that place.", She stated plainly.
"What do you mean?" If there was one thing his sister could be trusted for, it was town gossip, the dirt on anyone and everyone, and all other assorted manner of Spinner's End lore.
"I heard it from Lucy Xiang in Mrs. Ganz's class that Seniore Jappepi is some kind of a weirdo. She wouldn't get to into it, but she said something about him being a PTSD case over World War II. Anyhow, her mother pulled her out of his class.", She told him indifferently.
Severus sighed and snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. Mandarys took one long, last drag and did the same.
"So", He addressed Mandarys, "What's on the agenda for tonight's reading?" He knew better by now than to deny his sister her nightly session of being read to, as she would only pester him until he complied.
"Hmmm", Mandarys mused, making her way to the shabby bookshelf in the ill-lit musty corner of their basement.
The brick and concrete hovel they lived in was certainly nothing special, but it was theirs all the same. Beneath the stony shadows across from the bookshelf was a minimalist laboratory that Severus had set up for himself from his mother's old potions equipment. On the other side of the room lay the window, a small, second hand television set sat on a table next to an old short wave radio back from Tobias' Navy days. In the center of the room, underneath the basic, pull-string lamp lay the small bed that he and his sister had to share.
"Tales of Beedle the Bard? Nah, that shit's for babies", she mumbled half to herself, pushing the book aside. "American Psycho? Mmmm, maybe another time...Secrets of the Federal Reserve by Eustace Mullins? Already read-huh?", She cut herself off abruptly, causing Severus to look in her direction.
"What is it?" he asked, curious.
"There's something shiny here, behind the bookshelf." She squatted by the tiny space between the wall and the bookshelf and squinted her eyes. She turned her hand inward so as to reach into the small gap, and a second later she was drawing out a book that fallen behind the shelf. She blew away the large buildup of dust that had lain on the sedentary object for who knows how many years, to reveal its bombastic cover art of a giant, belligerent looking space alien sporting naked men and women on leashes crawling on all fours. The bizarre picture was inlaid with colored foils to give it its shiny, holographic surface. It was titled "SINS OF THE PUPPET MASTER" in blaring loud, red, lenticular capital letters.
Mandarys gingerly ran her chubby fingers over the book and opened it, letting her eyes fall onto a message that had been inscribed on the inside of its cover. "Sev, come over here and read this for me.", she waved her hand in his direction.
"You come over here," he told her coldly, "And while you're at it, how about you learn to read? You're seven-years-old now, you're getting to an age where it's becoming weird.", he remarked.
"I TOLD YOU!", she hollered back, "I've tried! The letters become all scrambled! It isn't fair!"
"Fine, fine, fine. Just bring it here.", He patted the vacant area of the bed to his side and his sister scurried over, holding the open book to his face.
"Look", she pointed to the lower-left corner of the inside cover where someone had scribbled a note in loopy, exaggerated cursive.
He took the book from her hands, held it up to eye-level, and began to read aloud: "To my sweet Eileen, may the light of truth illuminate you always. Yours truly, R. Jon Delacour.
"Holy shit, he's talking about Mom!", Mandarys let out a hyena-esque chuckle.
"Wait a minute." Severus said sharply, examining the front and back cover of the book, this is that book that Honest Jon is always peddling about. Something about space aliens and some other conspiracy theorist crackhead drivel."
"Didn't know that guy was on a first-name basis with mom.", His sister commented. "He must be a Spinner's End lifer, how depressing.", She sighed. "I wonder what his story is..."
"Just another drifter that's washed up on the armpit of East England, I suppose."
"Read it to me."
"Wha-Why? This is nothing but some homeless meth-head's ramblings.", He complained.
"You don't know that, Sev. You only limit yourself by being so judgmental.", she lightly chided.
"I don't know why this shite would even be worth the time."
"You aught not be so close-minded, you never know from where you might learn something."
"Fine.", He told her as they both climbed under the quilt blanket. He turned to the beginning of the first chapter, determined to get this nonsense over with. She leaned against his shoulder as he began to read aloud: "In the beginning there was the Annunaki, our ancestors most pure, by whose guidance we were able to become the only intelligent race of animals on this planet we have come to call Earth. The Annunaki were in possession of a full range of supernatural abilities, including telepathy, teleportation, time travel, and the ability to suck their own knobs-"
"That's NOT what it says!", he was interrupted by a hard punch to his shoulder.
"It's not like you would be able to tell the difference anyway!", He quipped.
"Read it right."
"Fine."
"The Annunaki gave man the miracle he began to know as transcendent consciousness..." He continued to read the barely comprehensible mess of fantasy and pseudoscience until he knew his sister was fast asleep beside him. When he knew it was safe to do so, he fell silent and laid the book to rest on the nightstand. He gently peeled the covers off of himself and walked across the cold, hard, concrete floor towards the steps. Quietly he closed the door to their bedroom behind him and made his way to the bathroom across the hall.
He was still greatly annoyed by the fact that his agenda tomorrow would be interrupted by a useless, girly, prance-about lesson with some freak. It was the last thing he needed. He took a moment to examine his own body in the bathroom mirror. His dark hair and eyes stood in sharp contrast to his milky-white skin. A small, bony frame with scrawny arms and legs stood draped in boxer shorts and a black t-shirt against the stark white walls. He was not exactly muscular, but didn't completely lack for brawn. He had often been told that skinny men had the stamina to fight down to the wire. Gymnastics was going to be a joke for him, it's a shame that he even had to bother with it. To prove his point to himself, he shifted his weight backwards and jumped, attempting to backflip into a handstand. While he got a good amount of air, he came down sloppy, with his arms and legs flailing about everywhere, causing him to slip and land hard on his chest with a loud thud. He groaned out the last of the remaining air in his lungs.
A/N: Managed to get this done despite getting into a really ugly car crash over some ice and almost dying. Car is totaled and I'm going to be in debt for a long time. So, it'll just be me, home with Sins of the Puppet Master. Hopefully this means I'll actually work faster. Hope you all take something from this story. Be careful on the roads, black ice is no joke.