Death Be Not Unkind

Chapter 5 ~ In the Presence of a Master

Snape and Marcus reappeared near a small lake. The shoreline was rather sandy, with small stones scattered about. The sky was overcast, and the water a bit murky. Further back from the lake was a forest. Marcus released Snape and walked up to the lake, staring down into the water intensely. Snape followed, stopped by his side and looked down as well. He could see Marcus, but he couldn’t see himself. The water was smooth and without ripples.

Marcus looked over at the silent wizard.

”When you can see yourself in the water, Snape, you’ll be ready . . . fully ready to wreak your revenge on that little bitch. But that might take a little while,” he said to the wizard. “You’re going to have to start at the beginning.”

”I knew that,” Snape replied, frowning at him. “And what, pray tell, is the beginning?”

”Well, it’s all based on solidification. Becoming dense enough to interact with the physical world. You exist, but on a higher level, at a higher vibration. The earth’s physical laws don’t affect us unless we become physical beings. So, we can fly, pass through physical objects, don’t need air, etc. What you’re going to have to do first is focus on affecting the physical world. This is done by concentration.”

In example, Marcus passed his hand over the smooth water, causing it to ripple.

”This is where you begin. Focus on making the water move. Water serves as a kind of bridge between the physical and the spiritual planes, which is why it is used so much in magic.

Snape frowned slightly.

”Other kinds of magic,” Marcus explained. “Natural magic. The kind Muggles do. Wiccans and such.”

Ah. Yes. There were Muggles who used the forces of nature to do what they couldn’t. Some were surprisingly good at it. But their wand work was rarely instantaneous. Still, they tried.

Snape stared down at the water. This was very similar to doing wandless magic, which, he wasn’t able to do on earth.

”Go on, stretch your hand over the water. Imagine your hand becoming cold, becoming ice and the water moving away from it,” Marcus instructed. “It won’t really become cold, but it should become denser. Imagining it like ice helps to focus.”

Snape focused on his hand as he held it over the water. After ten minutes, nothing.

”Blast,” the wizard hissed, dropping it. “Nothing happened.”

Marcus arched an eyebrow at him.

”It’s not going to happen overnight, Snape. You just have to keep practicing. Think about how much you want to get back at the witch who drove you to suicide. That ought to add a bit of impetus. Imagine your hands curled around her throat, squeezing slowly, her eyes bulging, her face turning red, then blue as you slowly cut off her air supply . . .”

Snape did picture this, his face contorting as he imagined slowly throttling the life out of Hermione, who fruitlessly tried to grab at his hands but was unable to connect with them, horror in her protuberant eyes as she gazed on his hate-filled face, the light in them . . . fading . . . fading . . .

”Arrrrgh!” the wizard cried, thrusting out his hand and making a rather large wave flow over the lake.

Marcus let out a whistle and looked at Snape, whose reddened eyes watched the wave subside in satisfaction.

”You’re a natural, Snape,” the incubus said, giving him a hearty pat on the back.

”All you need is the right motivation,” Snape replied soberly, ready to try again.

He’d get the hang of this, and quickly.

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Sister Dee had a rousing argument with St. Peter about accessing heaven. The bearded gate guardian sat at his tall podium, leafed through his book and told her there was no Remus Lupin in the Blessed Place.

”Maybe you spelled his name wrong,” Dee suggested.

Peter looked affronted.

”We never make mistakes like that here,” he sniffed, then scowled at her. “If he’s one of your associates, I suggest you check the other place. That’s probably where he is.”

”What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dee snarled, holding her coat tightly closed with one hand. “If he’s one of my associates? You trying to insult me, you goatheaded old . . .”

”LANGUAGE!” Peter roared, blowing her afro back.

”You want language . . . I’ll give you language, you stuck up, geriatric . . . “ Dee hissed, ready to just cuss him out.

Suddenly the cloudbank they were standing on lit up with a golden glow as an orb settled beside them. It coalesced into a very handsome, girded, blonde angel with beautiful, white wings and a body to die for . . . again. It wore a little white skirt trimmed in gold.

”What’s going on out here?” it said in a rather girlish voice. “Some cloud matter just melted away inside. Lost a harp.”

Dee stared at the angel. What was with its voice? She shook off her surprise.

”I’m trying to find Nymphodora Tonks. She’s on a weeklong conjugal visit with her husband, Remus Lupin,” the reaper informed him.

Both Peter and Gabriel looked horrified.

”Conjugal visits! Not here, Missy,” the angel said, pointing to the left. “No one has any genitals in heaven. Who you’re looking for must be in the Afterlife. Go that way about ten miles and you’ll find it.”

Dee blinked. No one had any sexual organs?

“And you folks have the nerve to call this place Heaven?” Dee asked incredulously before whirling and disappearing.

”Everyone’s a critic,” Peter grumbled from his high seat.

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Dee arrived at an almost featureless area. It was all white and stretched as far as the eye could see. The only things present were a door, a desk, and a young woman sitting in a swivel chair with one foot propped up on it, chewing gum and filing her nails. Her black hair was spiked and wrapped with a black head scarf with little skulls printed all over it. She wore thick mascara and black lipstick. She had on ripped jeans, black sandals and a black t-shirt that had “Heaven Sucks” printed on it. She continued filing her nails to points as Dee stood there looking at her. The girl had to know she was there.

Finally, Dee cleared her throat. The young woman looked up at her.

”Yeah?” she said eloquently.

Well, this was a lot different than heaven already.

”Is this the Afterlife?” the reaper asked her.

The girl blew a small bubble, let it pop then said, “Yep,” and went back to filing her nails.

”I need to find Nymphadora Tonks,” Dee informed her.

The girl tossed her head toward the door.

”Go in there,” she said shortly.

Dee looked at the door. The Afterlife had to be huge. How would she find Tonks?

”How . . .” she began.

”Just think about who you want to find and you’ll be instantly drawn to them,” the girl said in a droning voice that implied she’d given these directions a billion times.

The reaper walked toward the door, wondering about security. They just let anybody in here?

”If they don’t belong here, they’ll know it. The Afterlife isn’t a party for everyone,” the girl said, as Dee looked at her in amazement. Had she read her mind?

”There’s a reason I’m out here, believe me,” the girl said. “I’m Eris, the goddess of Discord. After the fall of the gods, I got this gig. Not very exciting, but the pay is decent.”

Dee stared at her for a moment, then opened the door to the Afterlife and walked through, entering what seemed to be a heavy mist. It swirled around the reaper.

”I need to find Nymphadora Tonks,” she said loudly.

Suddenly, there was a sickening pull and Dee found herself on a moonlit plain. She was standing in a field and there was a copse of trees a little way off. She could hear panting and howling and walked toward the sound.

After a minute or two, she saw two forms in front of a tree, as she got closer she murmured, “Oh, damn it.”

There were two werewolves, mating. One was bent over clinging to the tree while the other was going at it hard, doggie-style, both of them howling and panting as his furry flanks poured it on.

Shit. That had to be Tonks and Remus. Well, she hated to interrupt them, but this was serious business. She walked closer, her nose wrinkling at the scent of wet dog and sex. Damn, werewolves went at it hard.

”Um, excuse me. Tonks?” Dee said loudly.

The werewolf clinging to the tree suddenly turned into a naked Tonks. Remus, however remained a werewolf and continued fucking, not registering the reaper in his lust.

”Now, that’s just damn disturbing,” Dee said, shaking her head as Tonks straightened and pushed the randy werewolf off of her. Remus snarled at her menacingly, and Tonks pointed toward Dee.

”Ah, we have company, Remus,” she said to the slavering, creature, who was petting his very large, pink erection. The werewolf turned its head and stared at Dee, its ears going flat. Suddenly it turned into Remus, who was also naked. He quickly picked up his wand off the ground and created clothing. Tonks just fuzzed some in.

”What are you doing here, Dee?” Tonks asked walking up to her, Remus sheepishly following. His trousers were still tented.

”Sorry to break up the party, but there’s some stuff going on that you ought to know about, Tonks. While you were gone, Severus Snape committed suicide,” Dee told her.

Both Remus and Tonks looked shocked.

”Severus Snape? Why? He fought so hard to live,” Remus said in disbelief.

”He killed himself out of grief. He was doing Hermione Granger and in love with her. But, she wasn’t in love with him and led him on. She married Ronald Weasley and broke his heart. He felt he couldn’t go on,” the reaper said.

”Hermione did that? I can’t believe it,” Tonks said. “She was so sweet.”

”Yeah, sweet like anti-freeze. She set him up. She meant for him to kill himself,” Dee said, “and now he’s taking Incubus lessons from Marcus ‘the dog’ Delaluci. He means to pay her back.”

”Oh, no! We’ve got to stop him,” Tonks said.

Dee shook her head.

”Oh, no, baby girl. You’ve got to stop him. I tried,” the reaper said. “He’s bone-headed. Won’t listen to anything I have to say.”

Tonks scowled at Dee.

”You have to help me because this happened on your watch,” she told Dee, who put one hand on her hip, waggled a finger and did her “Oh, no you don’t” head motion.

”I was covering for you,” she argued.

”And that makes you at least partially responsible. Besides, Snape was a tough nut to crack when he was alive. I’m sure he hasn’t changed a bit now that he’s dead. I’m going to need the extra help. Come on, Dee. I need you. You’ve got to help me. If he’s in Marcus’ clutches, it’s going to be hell prying him away.”

Dee sighed and rolled her eyes. She and Tonks were friends. She couldn’t abandon her in her time of need. Damn it.

”All right. I’ll help you if I can, Tonks, but I ain’t watching no more of you Brits. Not a one,” she hissed. “Americans are crazy enough.”

”Thanks, Dee,” Tonks said appreciatively, then turned to Remus.

”I’ve got to go, baby. I’m sorry,” she said, kissing him.

Remus looked at her longingly.

”Hopefully, the year will pass quickly,” he said softly, drinking his wife in. Tonks smoothed the curve of his face with her hand.

”It will, love. And I’ll try to have the days we missed tacked on to the next vacation, okay?”

Remus kissed the palm of her hand as the surroundings turned into gray mist.

”Yes,” he said, kissing her once more. “Goodbye, Tonks.”

”Bye, Remus,” Tonks said as he faded away. Dee immediately noticed the door in front of them.

All business now, Tonks marched to the door.

”Let’s go,” she said, her eyes and voice hard.

Dee followed, shaking her head slightly as Tonks stalked out of the Afterlife. She had to be pissed about breaking off her yearly booty call early. Snape was probably in for some post-coital interruptus shit.

But damn . . . werewolves?

Man, white folks were just . . . freaky.

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A/N: lololol. Just thought I’d revisit this story a bit. Fun chapter to write. Thanks for reading. ***