more snippets from Harry's 6th year
Apr. 28th, 2003 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaylarudbekBlame finals for this. I am in a most aggressive mood. And this is going to get reworked after my next email from Brooke anyway....Aoife Vector labeled the bottles in her quick, neat script. Snape watched his mother-in-law as she worked. She seemed quite irritated, moving very quickly, slamming things around, etc. Now you know where your wife gets it from. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Vector?” he said, hesitantly.
She looked up at him. “Yes, Professor Snape?” she replied.
He paused. How do I bring this up….”You seem to be upset about something, Mrs. Vector. Do you object to helping Madam Pomfrey or me?”
Aoife Vector’s blue eyes narrowed. “I have no objections to helping Madam Pomfrey. After all, I am a nurse, and a damned good one if I do say so myself. I have an objection to helping you.”
Snape’s face froze. “I see.” Yet another person who couldn’t look past the scar on his arm…
“For all I know, you could have been the one responsible for the poison gas that killed my children.”
Snape drew in a breath, and thought, Oh, God. Her brother warned me this would be difficult, but I had no idea…He cleared his throat. “I did not conduct the attack, and I did not manufacture the gas,” he replied.
Unfortunately, Aoife heard the omission he made. “So you were the one who came up with the formula for that hellish stuff, you fucking bastard?”she said. She hit him across the face, hard.
Snape’s first instinct was to grab her wrists and stop her, but one look at her face convinced him to hold his hand. Besides, it’s not as if I don’t deserve it.
Aoife hit him in the stomach. “You’re the one responsible for my brother-in-law’s whole family dying?” She hit him again, on the jaw.
“You’re the one responsible for my sons and daughters dying in agony, choking on their own phlegm and blood?” Another hit to the lower abdomen. Snape sank down to his knees, groaning.
“You’re the one responsible for making me barren?” Aoife kicked him. Snape let out another groan.
Aoife let out a scream, and went after Snape’s face. He brought his hands up to protect his eyes from her fingers. He felt her nails tear at his face, felt the blood running down his cheeks. He cringed as he knelt on the floor, waiting for the next hit. And the hell of it was, he deserved everything this woman wanted to do to him.
He heard sobs, rusty-sounding as if she hadn’t cried in the past twenty years, and he took his hands away from his eyes. She was looking at her own hands and at his blood on them, and she was rocking back and forth, babbling in Irish. Snape caught her as she fell, and held her while she cried.
He very nearly said that he was sorry, but he checked himself. He thought, What possible difference would it make now? He rocked her as if he was the mother and she was the child.
She finally regained control of herself. She looked at the man who was holding her. Six-foot-two, he was, and he could have stopped her at any time. She said, “I’m not going to apologize to you, Mr. Snape.”
He sighed, and replied, “Have I asked you to?”
She glared back at him, thinking, I drew the man’s blood with my fingernails, and he can still sit there cool as a cucumber. Unnatural Limey bastard. She asked him, “My babies – how could you?”
Snape flinched briefly and quickly, but then rallied and replied, “You’re no more interested in hearing the answer than I am in answering.”
She spat back, “There couldn’t be any excuse. But you could say you’re sorry.”
He gave her a thin smile, which combined with the blood on his face, made her shudder. He stood up, and began to pace. He said, “Your brother-in-law's family gone. Your children, in pain, terrified, probably crying for their mother with the last breath they were able to draw. And no more children for you, ever."
Aoife closed her eyes for a moment, to get rid of the image of the blood-stained man. However, his words painted a picture of things she had never been able to get out of her mind. Her eyes opened as the realization hit her. He hasn't been able to get these images out of his mind either. She looked at him, clad all in black and pacing like a panther in a cage. He wound up with, "What of all that would change if I said I was sorry?"
She yelled at him, “It's not about changing the past, you black-hearted murderer, it's about saving your worthless soul!”
He started laughing, harder and harder. She sprang to her feet and began to run around the room, looking for something that she could kill him with. He slid down to the floor, and she realized that he was crying. Now it was her turn to hold him. She was hesitant at first, reluctant to touch him, but the repugnance he saw only made him cry harder. He choked out, “Words aren’t enough.”
She finally gave him an open-handed slap across the face, to stop the crying. She snarled, "Tears can’t wash away blood, and you're right that words aren't enough, you shite. You have to prove it to me that you're sorry, with your actions. Right actions."
He retorted, “I cannot raise the dead, Mrs. Vector, and I do not want to let you use me as a punching bag again.” Her face hardened, and he continued, “But I think that I can try to come up with some sort of antidote to the gas’s effects. It probably will not work well on you after such a long period of time, but at least I can try.”
Aoife glared at him for a long period of time. God, but her eyes were cold. Cold as the North Sea in January. “Well, as my brother said on All Souls’ Day last year, late is better than never, after all. And at least we’d have an idea of what to try if Voldemort’s lackeys use your hellish concoction again.”
At that point, Edmund Vector opened the door to the laboratory. “Aoife, darling?” he said. He entered the lab, and came to a halt when he saw his wife and his daughter’s – fiancé – sprawled on the floor together, both covered with blood. “What precisely is going on here?” he asked, in a too-calm voice.
Aoife stood up. “Guess who came up with the formula for that gas, Edmund dearest,” she replied.
“What gas?” Edmund replied.
“That gas that was used on August 10, 1975,” Aoife replied.
Edmund stood stock-still while he processed this information, and then moved quickly, grabbing Snape by the collar and dragging him out into the hall. Snape gulped. I should never have asked what I’d have to do to prove that I was sorry, he thought.
Edmund dragged Snape down to the salle d’armes,…. Edmund proceeds to beat the living daylights out of Snape here. Does Mike come to join in the fun? Emmy and Dumbledore find out and rush to the scene. Ron suggests selling tickets…
Or does Edmund already know about Snape’s involvement, and then they discover that Snape had made up an antidote when he came back to the Light, and the Ministry sat on it? Aoife and Edmund visit the Ministry….hehehheh….
She looked up at him. “Yes, Professor Snape?” she replied.
He paused. How do I bring this up….”You seem to be upset about something, Mrs. Vector. Do you object to helping Madam Pomfrey or me?”
Aoife Vector’s blue eyes narrowed. “I have no objections to helping Madam Pomfrey. After all, I am a nurse, and a damned good one if I do say so myself. I have an objection to helping you.”
Snape’s face froze. “I see.” Yet another person who couldn’t look past the scar on his arm…
“For all I know, you could have been the one responsible for the poison gas that killed my children.”
Snape drew in a breath, and thought, Oh, God. Her brother warned me this would be difficult, but I had no idea…He cleared his throat. “I did not conduct the attack, and I did not manufacture the gas,” he replied.
Unfortunately, Aoife heard the omission he made. “So you were the one who came up with the formula for that hellish stuff, you fucking bastard?”she said. She hit him across the face, hard.
Snape’s first instinct was to grab her wrists and stop her, but one look at her face convinced him to hold his hand. Besides, it’s not as if I don’t deserve it.
Aoife hit him in the stomach. “You’re the one responsible for my brother-in-law’s whole family dying?” She hit him again, on the jaw.
“You’re the one responsible for my sons and daughters dying in agony, choking on their own phlegm and blood?” Another hit to the lower abdomen. Snape sank down to his knees, groaning.
“You’re the one responsible for making me barren?” Aoife kicked him. Snape let out another groan.
Aoife let out a scream, and went after Snape’s face. He brought his hands up to protect his eyes from her fingers. He felt her nails tear at his face, felt the blood running down his cheeks. He cringed as he knelt on the floor, waiting for the next hit. And the hell of it was, he deserved everything this woman wanted to do to him.
He heard sobs, rusty-sounding as if she hadn’t cried in the past twenty years, and he took his hands away from his eyes. She was looking at her own hands and at his blood on them, and she was rocking back and forth, babbling in Irish. Snape caught her as she fell, and held her while she cried.
He very nearly said that he was sorry, but he checked himself. He thought, What possible difference would it make now? He rocked her as if he was the mother and she was the child.
She finally regained control of herself. She looked at the man who was holding her. Six-foot-two, he was, and he could have stopped her at any time. She said, “I’m not going to apologize to you, Mr. Snape.”
He sighed, and replied, “Have I asked you to?”
She glared back at him, thinking, I drew the man’s blood with my fingernails, and he can still sit there cool as a cucumber. Unnatural Limey bastard. She asked him, “My babies – how could you?”
Snape flinched briefly and quickly, but then rallied and replied, “You’re no more interested in hearing the answer than I am in answering.”
She spat back, “There couldn’t be any excuse. But you could say you’re sorry.”
He gave her a thin smile, which combined with the blood on his face, made her shudder. He stood up, and began to pace. He said, “Your brother-in-law's family gone. Your children, in pain, terrified, probably crying for their mother with the last breath they were able to draw. And no more children for you, ever."
Aoife closed her eyes for a moment, to get rid of the image of the blood-stained man. However, his words painted a picture of things she had never been able to get out of her mind. Her eyes opened as the realization hit her. He hasn't been able to get these images out of his mind either. She looked at him, clad all in black and pacing like a panther in a cage. He wound up with, "What of all that would change if I said I was sorry?"
She yelled at him, “It's not about changing the past, you black-hearted murderer, it's about saving your worthless soul!”
He started laughing, harder and harder. She sprang to her feet and began to run around the room, looking for something that she could kill him with. He slid down to the floor, and she realized that he was crying. Now it was her turn to hold him. She was hesitant at first, reluctant to touch him, but the repugnance he saw only made him cry harder. He choked out, “Words aren’t enough.”
She finally gave him an open-handed slap across the face, to stop the crying. She snarled, "Tears can’t wash away blood, and you're right that words aren't enough, you shite. You have to prove it to me that you're sorry, with your actions. Right actions."
He retorted, “I cannot raise the dead, Mrs. Vector, and I do not want to let you use me as a punching bag again.” Her face hardened, and he continued, “But I think that I can try to come up with some sort of antidote to the gas’s effects. It probably will not work well on you after such a long period of time, but at least I can try.”
Aoife glared at him for a long period of time. God, but her eyes were cold. Cold as the North Sea in January. “Well, as my brother said on All Souls’ Day last year, late is better than never, after all. And at least we’d have an idea of what to try if Voldemort’s lackeys use your hellish concoction again.”
At that point, Edmund Vector opened the door to the laboratory. “Aoife, darling?” he said. He entered the lab, and came to a halt when he saw his wife and his daughter’s – fiancé – sprawled on the floor together, both covered with blood. “What precisely is going on here?” he asked, in a too-calm voice.
Aoife stood up. “Guess who came up with the formula for that gas, Edmund dearest,” she replied.
“What gas?” Edmund replied.
“That gas that was used on August 10, 1975,” Aoife replied.
Edmund stood stock-still while he processed this information, and then moved quickly, grabbing Snape by the collar and dragging him out into the hall. Snape gulped. I should never have asked what I’d have to do to prove that I was sorry, he thought.
Edmund dragged Snape down to the salle d’armes,…. Edmund proceeds to beat the living daylights out of Snape here. Does Mike come to join in the fun? Emmy and Dumbledore find out and rush to the scene. Ron suggests selling tickets…
Or does Edmund already know about Snape’s involvement, and then they discover that Snape had made up an antidote when he came back to the Light, and the Ministry sat on it? Aoife and Edmund visit the Ministry….hehehheh….
