#interaction: frank

[zadienotsadie-blog]

@fortystarters

"I swear, they’re evolving on us!” Zadie said, waving her rose gold iPhone around in pure exasperation. “Here -- look, here I thought I had it all figured out, making fake accounts to follow all my son’s social media. Then, then, I find out, they’re making public accounts that they give to their families, and then they turn around and make secret second accounts where they put all their real shit! They’re getting smarter. It’s a real problem.”

[severusevandersnape]

Date: July 28, 1979

Location: Diagon Alley

Status: Closed for @franklongbvttom

Pain seared through his arm better than a branding iron, his mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion. He had often prized himself in youth on ignoring the pain inflicted on him by his bullies. However this was something all together different. Every part of him felt scalded and he was in more pain that he could have ever imagined was possible. The killing curse would have been a mercy now, but the end of the message was the best he could hope for. The dark lord was in his mind, invading it, speaking to him, to them, telling them it was time, the time to take blood. His mind screamed out as the pain drove through his veins. Every thought became confused as the burning pain scorched through him like fire.

As it ended his body was shaking and he was sweating. Slowly he breathed and dragged his mask over his face. The pain of the mark was merciless and without escape. He had no choice, but to obey. What must they think of them? The wrongs of their ancestors were not their own, yet the Death Eaters would come regardless, to kill them and every one who stood in their way. There wasn’t a wizard today who was not halfblood or less and it was not those who committed the crime that drove the dark lord’s bloodlust, but he wanted them dead from newborn to elderly, no survivors. There was no way the Death Eaters were once an innocent party. Even when they began all those years ago as the Knights of Walpurgis, their goal was clear: a pureblood society. Over the years there were some who had learned the thrill of the kill, the sick joy of evil that comes with wanton violence and destruction.

Severus Snape was not one of those.

He appeared, masked and ready. He could hear people around him screaming and shouting. The streets that once thronged with life were filled with fear. Gone were the vendors and the women in bright clothes selling hand made goods from carts and baskets. Gone were the children who played amongst the crowds and marveled at the latest racing broom in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Gone were the stores with their windows of fine robes or delicacies. As he laid waste to the alley that he himself had marveled at as a boy there were only cracked side-walks, empty shopping baskets and broken store fronts laid wast by his spells. Glass went flying as he started with Florean Fortescue’s. He watched as owls in their cages toppled to the ground with frightened screeches as he did the same to Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Suddenly he spotted an unwelcome sight. The bright scarlet of Auror robes. He recognized Frank Longbottom, even as he shielded running shoppers from the shattering glass. He knew this day would come, but he didn’t think it would come so quickly.