*The result, it turns out, is immediate, brief, and unsatisfying; words Crouch Sr. would not hesitate to assign to describe Snape's life, too, as well as his death. It's silent, apart from just a few last, snuffling breaths sucked in desperately through his nose, which protrudes out from behind his hair like the beak of a crow. His jaw snaps closed on his parroted final words, and in one jerking motion his half-grown body stiffens and strains upward against it's chains. Crouch Sr. has seen better performances, and where that wide, carved smile had once taken up a large portion of his face there is nothing but a thin line now that everything is over. His interest is lost after the first convulsion, but he forces himself to stay until the muscles release and the body goes limp inside it's restraints. The patch of dark cloth between Snape's legs widens further, and Crouch Sr. turns away. His files follow him out the door.
He has accomplished everything he wanted tonight. He has planned the perfect death sentence, finally begun to avenge Bernadette after too long of waiting for results on his son, and secured a piece of societies trash to serve a purpose. After a single interrogation, he can call the new trace effective, regardless of the technicalities, and two unsolved cases are already being emptied from his mind before he makes it out to the main hallway, a slight relief from all the information he must go over at least once every night before sleep. The moment of victory, however, has passed, and Crouch Sr. emerges from the government-standard torture chamber just as important, put together and pitiless as he had been going in.
There has never been a moment during Snape's final night, that Crouch Sr. had cared what had been Dumbledore's secret. It had made for the perfect final card to play, but had been nothing more than a slow and painful check mate, and that is no different now that he has heard it. Prophecies, despite their potential uses as stepping stones toward legitimate progress, are largely hokum, and he considers this mystery woman's to be just as legitimate as his horoscope. He knows one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord exists, and Crouch Sr. celebrates his birthday in January, not July.
Outside, in the torch-lit hallway, several officers straighten up, wands drawn to begin administering further enticement or move the prisoner for the night. Crouch Sr. looks sternly around at each of their faces, and cautions them before making his way back upstairs and home.*
Whoever administered the serum? Should know I did not give my authorization for spilling. The floor will need to be wiped.
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Date: 2011-09-01 02:11 am (UTC)He has accomplished everything he wanted tonight. He has planned the perfect death sentence, finally begun to avenge Bernadette after too long of waiting for results on his son, and secured a piece of societies trash to serve a purpose. After a single interrogation, he can call the new trace effective, regardless of the technicalities, and two unsolved cases are already being emptied from his mind before he makes it out to the main hallway, a slight relief from all the information he must go over at least once every night before sleep. The moment of victory, however, has passed, and Crouch Sr. emerges from the government-standard torture chamber just as important, put together and pitiless as he had been going in.
There has never been a moment during Snape's final night, that Crouch Sr. had cared what had been Dumbledore's secret. It had made for the perfect final card to play, but had been nothing more than a slow and painful check mate, and that is no different now that he has heard it. Prophecies, despite their potential uses as stepping stones toward legitimate progress, are largely hokum, and he considers this mystery woman's to be just as legitimate as his horoscope. He knows one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord exists, and Crouch Sr. celebrates his birthday in January, not July.
Outside, in the torch-lit hallway, several officers straighten up, wands drawn to begin administering further enticement or move the prisoner for the night. Crouch Sr. looks sternly around at each of their faces, and cautions them before making his way back upstairs and home.*
Whoever administered the serum? Should know I did not give my authorization for spilling. The floor will need to be wiped.