Im getting that feeling again - the one where I want to punch a fictitious character (hell, one I created) in the face: He stepped out onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The atmosphere hit him immediately, like a slap that was quite unlike anything he had experienced before. Older students were bubbling with excitement, greeting friends with unbridled cheer. Newer students were hugging their parents as they said their farewells. Steam issued from the Hogwarts Express and it billowed across the platform, swirling around robe-hems. When they spotted the Evans family some distance away Severus let out a whoop of delight and made to join them. Eileen, however, caught his arm in a vice-grip and tugged him backwards just as a short, brown-haired woman and her pug-faced husband blocked his path. “Well,” said the woman, a sickly sweet smile on her face, “if it isn’t Eileen Prince.” The expression on Eileen’s face soured as the woman gasped insincerely, her hand coming to cover her mouth for a moment. “Oh, I forgot; you’re not a Prince anymore, are you?” Blue eyes flashed wickedly; her husband chortled, an ugly smirk twisting his mouth. “How are Mum and Dad?” “Drucilla,” greeted Eileen tightly, her free hand curling into a fist by her side. “They’re not dead, so I must assume they’re fine; not that I care in the slightest.” She tilted her head slightly, dark eyes glittering viciously. “I must confess I hadn’t expected to see you here; the last I heard, you were under suspicion of bedding your gardener.” Severus’ eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, almost vanishing into his hairline. Drucilla’s face flushed puce and her eyes threatened to fall from their sockets. ----- *snaps in S formation* You tell that cow, Mrs Snape; you tell that cow. ~Xeno
Posted on: Tue, 12 Nov 2013 16:52:30 +0000
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