[text]

[masterofpotions]

While these devices may be a more efficient means of communication than magic, and nowhere near as messy as firetalking has the potential to be, there are inherent flaws in their design. They are far too small, for one, and lend themselves to being easily misplaced. I suppose it will have its uses, which is more than can be said for most Muggle devices, but if not for the distinct lack of owls, I would not be so resigned to let it replace the perfectly respectable practice of letter-writing.

That said, the sheer amount of idiocy beyond the doors of that Muggle hospital is absolutely baffling. Never in my life have I heard such a ridiculous tale, which is quite a feat when one considers the many desperate lies told by Death Eaters when presented with anything resembling consequence. I have little tolerance for foolishness and will not be treated as either an invalid or an imbecile they assume is eager to believe stories that are clearly meant for children.

Writing on this fool thing is an exercise in tedium and a miserable excuse for communication, I might add. Quill and parchment would have been much quicker.

Comments

[moralfibre]

[His brows knit as he is insulted. Despite his new respect for Snape, that lingering animosity is still buried among all the other emotions he hasn't had a proper chance to reflect upon.] Maybe if you hadn't decided from the start that you hate me, you would have realised it a long time ago.

Voldemort's dead. For good. [That, he is firm on; but then manages to hesitate even if he can't keep from saying it entirely. How many peoples days does he have to ruin by telling them that they're dead, the last he remembers of them?] ...So are you. You gave me some of your memories before you died--mostly about the Horcrux that was in me, so that I'd know what to do. And there were some of my mum...

[His tone becomes a bit thoughtful as he continues to ramble along a tangential thought, though he looks down at his feet because he knows it's childish and he hates that he's admitting it to Snape of all people.]

I've been wondering if maybe they'll come, too. Everyone I know here is dead.

[masterofpotions]

[Severus skillfully ignores the barb, having now had decades of practice when it came to shutting out words and opinions he did not wish to threaten his reality. Truly, remaining so stubbornly biased for all these years should have been considered a skill.]

I am not surprised to hear of my end. I thought that might be the way of things. There are very few outcomes I can see, even now, in which I might survive. If Voldemort is dead, then all is as it should be.

[Just for that moment, his voice is lacking its usual cruel edge, soft and thoughtful as he considers the implications of Harry's words. It's true that he's long since given up any fleeting dreams of surviving this war. His position alone made that difficult. What mattered was that he lived long enough for the right people to succeed, and according to Harry, that had, indeed, been accomplished.

There is a lengthy, pregnant pause as he thinks of how best to handle such an admission.]

If everyone you know here is dead, then it stands to reason that they may very well join you here. I cannot presume to understand the way this world operates, at least not yet, but there is precedent. Still. Perhaps best not to get your hopes up, Potter.

[If they did join their son here, avoiding either one or both of them was going to be a difficult dance he would have no choice but to master.]