1995-02-17: Dark Waiting Room

Participants:

Whitmore_icon.gif Snape_icon.gif

Scene Title Dark Waiting Room
Synopsis Snape waits to approach the Dark Lord. Whitmore helps him pass the time.
Location The old Riddle House
Date Feb 17, 1995
Watch For Dumbledore bashing. Sirius bashing.
Logger Whit

Snape stands in the dim hallway of the Riddle House, unmasked and his cloak still flecked in the gore of the earlier battle in Hogsmeade. His arms crossed over his chest, his eyes flick to the firmly closed entrance to the Sitting Room. He is a patient man but, in this special case, he seems fit to almost knock. Almost. The light from beneath that door and the hushed voices within prompt him not to.

Whitmore still wears his cloak, though his mask is off, and he stands in the shadows beside the door. He doesn't look anything like himself at the moment; he never does when among these. And most of them have guessed that he wears a guise, even among them. "Mister Snape." It's a soft tone, nearly unrecognizable. Not the high screech he used during the raid, but not his real timbre either. "Welcome to headquarters. Bit draughty, wouldn't you say?" Strange. Shadow is engaging in small talk. "You made quite a stir, I am certain." Or, maybe not.

"These things are to be expected when in my position," Snape replies, his own voice an even tone with subtle hints at his refusal to be intimidated. He stretches his long, pallid fingers out before him before he draws the cloak tightly like the wings of a great bat once again.

"Oh, most certainly. But they are still rather annoying, I would say." Whitmore steps into the light slightly, allowing the half-light of the room to fall more on his borrowed features. "In any case, I can completely empathize." He leans against the wall nearest him, and watches the younger man. "I hope there were not any bridges burned this eve. You are … valuable to the cause in your position." Almost as valuable as he is. Or so might be inferred.

"They are never entirely trusting," Snape relates, lip curling slightly - as though disgusted by their lack of faith, "For all their bravado and lack of vision they are not entirely bereft of intelligence. But Dumbledore cannot see past his own trusting nature and I believe I shall remain in Hogwarts as long as the Dark Lord wishes it to be so."

Whitmore laughs softly, a quiet chuckle completely apropos to the darkness surrounding him. "Sometimes I think the old fool is one of our greatest assets. So trusting of everyone, allowing even the most…" That smile returns. "The most involved of us to continue. One might say he either does not know, does not care, or wishes differently than he appears." The older man doesn't understand pure trust. It's a concept lost on him, unfortunately. Anyone who blindly believes another is a fool, including some of his own comrades. "Let us dearly hope he remains so." For all the work he does for the Light, there are things that remain in place to undermine the status quo. Right under his nose. This seems to be enough discussion about the old Headmaster for Whit, so he changes the topic. "Are you prepared for your audience?" It might be what passes for more small talk, as there is really no malice in the tone. "These things can get … tricky."

"I would be concerned with 'tricky' things had I not followed the Dark Lord's instructions," Snape points out, dark eyes locked on his fellow Death Eater, "He will have the vision to see what my intentions were and I doubt he shall find reason at all not to trust me."

Whitmore is fairly impressed with this response. He nods fractionally, the only sign of his approval. He gazes out into the rest of the room beyond Snape, and smiles again, the enigmatic smile that might give him away someday, if it wasn't so common among those in this circle. "It was rather…entertaining to get to see Mister Black so flustered." He sounds like this is a special treat. "You know, I saw him out in the street the other day and he wasn't sure about living outside of captivity. My first thought was…" He chuckles. "That we could always put him right back in a cell of some sort. Make him feel at home?" It's not really clear if Whit starts talking about Sirius to bother Snape, or if he really enjoyed the moment.

"I have admittedly had little time to think about vengeance for slights against me," Snape adjusts his cloak yet again, apparently done waiting although he would never say this aloud, "But a cell at Azkaban would do little for Black … he feels no guilt."

"Surely it couldn't hurt…" Whitmore decides. He gives a soft snort. "However, I was thinking less Azkaban, and more somewhere dearer to us. Perhaps he could be… constrained to help us advance the understanding of the animagus transformation?" These spoken thoughts veer him too close to revealing himself, so he says no more along those lines. "And it would be about more than just vengeance for personal wrongs." Whitmore is a Believer. It's pretty clear.

"Hmph," is all Snape has to say to that, apparently now distracted by the fact that soon he will be brought before Voldemort. He is not afraid. No, he is confident in his purpose.

And that distraction might be a good thing, in retrospect. Whitmore notices the man's preoccupation, and slips back into the shadows, saying no more.


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