Eileen Prince (woundedgrace) wrote in magic_past,
Eileen Prince
woundedgrace
magic_past

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Who: Eileen Prince
Where: the Snape residence
When: sometime during this past weekend


Only one yellow candle frame shone through the grimy glass of the small window of the modest residence, the colourless place Eileen Prince had come to call home for all these years. Yet mercifully on this night, her husband was out wandering whereever his fancy may take him. On this night, the forlorn-looking woman was granted the luxury of some peace and quiet within the walls of her home.



It was one of those evenings in which she was allowed some time to herself, and Eileen was determined to put that time to good use. She began by rearranging a few things about their sparsely furnished home, her mind quickly slipping into an almost meditative state as she focused on the task at hand. They were mostly books, her books from her days as a student, and these books she gathered to put back into their proper places on the shelf.

That was when her gaze fell upon one particularly tattered volume, her old Potions book. She missed those days. Everything seemed so much easier back then, when all she really had to concern herself about were her courses, or what her next move in a Gobstones match will be. She thought she was learned enough to survive on her own, although the harsh realism of life was quick to tell her otherwise. If she was allowed the chance to go back in time, the only thing Eileen would have most likely said to her younger self was that she never once pictured herself to be living the life she had these days.

Placing the book on her lap as she eased herself down into a chair, the haggard woman ran her hands over the cover, the knobby joints of her fingers betraying years spent in hard toil. She used to be someone with so much ambition. She had big plans for herself, plans that would bring her the respect and power she desired so much back in the day. Yet now it was too late for her, far too late...but not for her son. With that thought in mind, she quickly went to wrap the book carefully in some brown paper and string, enclosing with it the following note:

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In good time, the parcel was sent on its way to Severus by Owl post, seemingly carrying with it all of her best wishes and dreams. She can still see that her son be spared the fate she had imposed upon herself. Her son can be the person she never had the chance to be.
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