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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 5 years

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Moonlight Chapter 20: Magdalene

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 20/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Nineteen+

Chapter Twenty-one+ >>

Severus paused at the top of the steps leading into St. Thomas’s Church and exchanged a glare with the green copper head of a wild man that stood guard over the door. He tugged at the sleeve of his dark gray suit, agitated that it was not nearly long enough. In spite of Mr. Frost’s insistence that Muggle clothes became Severus far better than the ‘damned clerical dress’ that was his usual attire, Severus hated wearing them. They reminded him of all the days of his childhood that he had spent in clothes from Cokeworth Priory's charity bin that had neither matched nor fit. It wasn’t as though his father had been unable to afford proper clothing for his son. Tobias Snape had never paid for anything that he could get for free. And he had been very good at getting things for free. Ever since Severus had attained his majority, he had taken all of his clothing, magic and muggle alike, to Mr. Frost, Cokeworth’s venerable tailor. The man was free with his opinions about Severus’s sartorial sins, but he did good work and he was far more affordable than Madame Malkin’s or Twilfitt and Tatting's in Diagon Alley.

But the christening of the Lee child was to be held in this Muggle church, and so Muggle clothes it had to be. The brass knocker dangling from the wild man’s mouth was rough and heavy in Severus’s hand, and he was once again plagued by the indecision that had been troubling him all afternoon. A fit of good humor had addled his brains after his pleasant excursion to Romania, and he had accepted the Lees’ invitation to the event. He hated changing plans once they were made but, the closer the actual day came, the less his mind dwelt on Miranda and her smiles, and the more it dwelt on everything that could go terribly wrong. Being caught in a church with his Muggle-born lover and a slew of Muggle-loving purebloods would not do much for Severus’s precarious reputation among the Dark Lord’s minions. Not that it was terribly likely that any of those minions would cross his path today in this church or at the Embassy afterwards. He had gone to Spinner’s End to change after his classes, rather than risk leaving Hogwarts dressed as a Muggle, and had lost some time taking a circuitous route from Spinner’s End to St. Thomas’s in an attempt to ensure he was not followed. Beyond going home now and forgetting the whole thing there wasn’t much else he could do. With a sigh that was equal parts irritation and resignation, he jerked the ominous door open and took his decision.

“Bless my soul, Severus, you did come!” exclaimed Molly Weasley in a loud whisper.

She appeared from the shadows of the dimly lit church. It was late afternoon on a lethargic, cloudy day, and the flickering candles grouped around various pictures and statues provided more light than what managed to filter in through the windows. For a terrible moment he was sure that she was going to attempt to embrace him, but thankfully she stopped short and her outstretched arms dropped to her sides so that her hands might fidget with her bag. She looked a mess, her dress a clash of patterns and colors that had no business being seen in the same room, let alone on the same person. There was a reason that Severus stuck to black and gray.

“Molly,” he said shortly, barely inclining his head to her.

“It’s so good to see you somewhere outside of a meeting about You-Know-Who or a meeting about one of my children making trouble,” she went on bravely.

“Indeed.” Merlin, how long was this tête à tête going to last? “I was under the impression that Arthur would be here as well.”

“He should be along any minute once he finishes up at the Ministry. Did you have a nice day at school?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s a shame. I hope it wasn’t one of my children’s fault.”

“No more than it is any other day.”

“Aren’t Aaron and Rachel lovely people? They’ve come by for dinner a few times and it’s so sweet to see a nice young couple right at the beginning of starting their family. Makes you nostalgic, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Her eyes widened and she started laughing. “How silly of me, of course you wouldn’t know. Yet. Arthur tells me you have a friend that you’ve been hiding from everyone and that she’s quite a catch. Maybe you will know before too long.”

Severus was starting to feel dizzy from Molly’s chattering and, worse, the back of his neck was getting hot the way it did when he was particularly embarrassed. He had a strong desire to turn up the collar of his coat and he wished that he had left his hair down instead of tying it back. All of his usual masks were gone in these wretched Muggle clothes, so he made do tugging at his sleeve and glaring at his companion.

“I hope that Arthur was not remiss in explaining to you the dangers both to Miranda and to myself if you were to repeat that nonsense anywhere, even to our allies,” he said coldly.

The effect was instantaneous. She stopped laughing, the smile fell from her face, and the intelligent woman who sometimes hid behind the facade of the doting mother revealed herself.

“I understand completely,” she said seriously, putting a hand on his arm. “And while I’m sorry that things have to be this way for you, I am happy to know that you find other things to do with your time besides disciplining students and risking your neck. Your secret is safe with us.”

She gave his arm a brief squeeze that he supposed she meant to be consoling, and released him.

“I am aware that you and Arthur are capable of keeping a secret,” he allowed.

They lapsed into a silence that lasted long enough for her to return to fidgeting with her bag and him to wonder if he would fray the hem of his sleeve with tugging on it. He would have been perfectly happy to remain silent until the others arrived, but he was concerned that Molly would not allow such a thing to happen. In an effort to avoid speaking any more about his friend, he attempted to think of some topic of conversation, but neither magical tactics nor the behavior of potions students seemed quite the thing for the occasion.

“How did you meet her?” Molly asked abruptly, returning to the unfortunate topic.

Severus could feel his eyebrow start twitching. “By the caprices of fate.”

Thankfully he was preserved from having to continue that explanation by the noise of the door opening and the arrival of the rest of their party. Both he and Molly turned at the sound, perhaps equally grateful to be rescued, and Molly was halfway across the church to meet the group before Severus could blink. Amidst the tumult of embraces, introductions, and the crying infant, Severus took the opportunity to drift up the aisle, making a show of studying the stained glass pictures in the windows as he worried the hem of his sleeve. The sun outside made a feeble attempt to break through the clouds, and the rich colors of the glass responded with a pleasing glow. Judging by the obscured, but undressed figures and the riot of animal and plant life, it depicted the Garden of Eden. He busied himself picking out the various flora in an attempt to ignore all of the doubts that were creeping to the fore of his mind.

“You look nice,” Miranda said, her light step coming to a stop next to him.

She was near enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, but she did not attempt to touch him. He looked from the window to her and, from the blush that pinked her cheeks when he did, he rather suspected that his own face was betraying how pleased he was to see her.

“And you appear to have recovered from your illness,” he replied.

“Now, I already admitted you were right. I don’t think I should have to keep stroking your ego.”

“But it makes me so agreeable when you do.” Her flaring temper amused him, as usual, and he could not deny even to himself that at that moment he didn’t give a damn if all the Death Eaters in the Dark Lord’s army burst into the church and caught him.

“I don’t think you’d know agreeable if it bit you.”

“Fortunately I have you to explain these things to me. And perhaps I merely commented on your appearance in order to admire it.”

This won him a smile, and, as the others were busy settling the child and speaking to the priest, he allowed himself the indulgence of returning it with one of his own. The sun outside the window continued its mission to break through the clouds, drawing his eyes back to the image.

“There is a fascinating mix of plants in this window,” he observed.

“Is there?”

“Yes. There are chamomile and comfry tangled together with belladonna and cicuta. I had thought that this was supposed to be a picture of paradise, but perhaps it is some other strange, Popeish thing.”

“No, it is the Garden of Eden. But it’s before the Fall.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Before the Fall, all of the plants were helpful and benevolent. It was only after that some became deadly. Or, that’s what my brother Columba used to say.”

“I see.”

“I’ve always wondered what those sorts of plants were like before. What sort of good use they might have been put to.”

“Interesting question.”

Footsteps approached and a well-dressed but obviously sleep-deprived Aaron interrupted their conversation. His face was haggard enough that Severus decided not to glare at the new father when he gave Severus’s back a friendly slap.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal Miranda for a while, Severus. Thanks for being here,” Aaron said.

“Of course,” Severus replied.

He followed the Americans to a small alcove in the back of the church where a pair of clerics and the rest of the company were waiting. Severus fell back to stand behind Molly, the other extraneous person in this business, and his height enabled him to observe the rite from that spot. A pale but lovely Rachel cradled the infant who was all but swallowed up in a voluminous gown of satin and lace, and the efficient, owlish priest began intoning Latin texts with a rapidity that bespoke his understanding. At first Severus took the trouble to translate the words to himself but, before long, the rhythm and the quiet lulled him and his mind began to wander.

During his childhood, Severus had gone to service most Sundays, morning and evening. As Tobias had refused to darken the door of Cokeworth Priory, unless it was to receive some embarrassing form of charity that the Snape family did not actually require, this had been a welcome escape for both Severus and his mother from Tobias’s mercurial temper. Severus had found the morning service to be tedious, especially when it was interrupted by overlong and circular sermons, but he had found Evensong to be much more pleasant. There had been something about the way the afternoon light would break into the run-down church. It lit up the sad, neglected space, making it seem clean and otherworldly—almost magical. Sometimes, if they were lucky, Tobias would be gone when Severus and his mother returned home, and they would spend the rest of the evening together. Those were the times when his mother had given him the most attention, and he had held those moments close during the long hours and days when she had none to give. If he were asked, he would say that he had seen too much evil in the world to believe that God and Christianity were anything other fables and fairy stories, but he did remember the peace of those Sunday afternoons with something that bordered on fondness.

That same magical afternoon light broke through the clouds now, and came slanting in through the windows of St. Thomas’s, haloing the infant, her tired parents, and Miranda in its radiance. As Miranda held the child over the font, her face displayed an open, honest joy that made Severus’s breath catch to see.

“Magdalene Tokoyo, ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spritus Sancti,” the priest murmured, pouring three measures of water over Magdalene’s head.

The infant blinked, as though surprised, but did not cry. Silence really was the order of the moment, and Severus found that he could recapture that fleeting feeling of peace that he had experienced during Evensong, far from his tormenting father. He could forget for a moment about the Dark Lord, and Albus, and the war, and Potter, and all the rest of it. He could just be.

*****

“Eh, you’ll be in the same boat soon enough, Severus,” Aaron observed between puffs of smoke. “It’s only a matter of time before…”

“Before what?” Miranda interrupted as she came out onto the Lee’s charmed porch. It was a nice piece of spell-work, just worn enough to seem real. Aaron, Severus, and Arthur were seated in the group of well-used chairs that looked out over the white painted wood and onto a lawn that was a replica of Aaron’s childhood home. The false sun had set, and the sky was a hazy grey as the stars started showing their faces. There was even a breeze of sorts, and it was easy to pretend that they were not far underground. Aaron’s face was jovial and pink, Severus was giving the man a narrow glare, and Arthur was staring up at the slow-turning fan on the ceiling of the porch, apparently trying very hard not to laugh. Miranda raised her eyebrows in order to give Aaron the ‘you’d better quit while you’re ahead’ warning.

“Oh nothing. Nothing at all,” Aaron hedged, offering Miranda a cigarette.

“No, thanks. I’ve been sent to collect Severus. Rachel wants to thank you for the present you gave to Maggie.”

“That would be preferable to continuing this conversation,” Severus said.

He rose silently and followed Miranda into the living room, both of them pretending not to hear the laughter that erupted from Aaron and Arthur as soon as they were off the porch. Rachel and Magdalene were snuggled together in the rocking chair and Molly was cleaning up the wrapping paper and dirty plates. Severus’s offering was currently floating above the sleeping baby; a rotating mobile of animated figures on silver strings. The figures went about a soundless play of a young woman slaying a sea serpent at a stately pace.

“Severus, thank you,” Rachel said, her tired face serene. “It was so nice of you to come and to bring this for Maggie. Wherever did you get it?”

Miranda could see the tips of Severus’s ears pinking and he cleared his throat before answering.

“I made it. You can change the scene as well, thus,” he explained.

He flicked the top of it with his long fingers, and the players transfigured into a new set. Now there was a young woman, flying up to the sky in a chariot of flowers.

“A nicely done piece of magic,” Miranda said, moved that Severus had taken so much trouble. “I had no idea that you made children’s toys.”

“It is not my habit but, as I did make one for Draco Malfoy on the occasion of his christening, I thought it would be acceptable to do as much now.”

“Draco Malfoy’s christening?” Molly asked. “What was that like?”

“Obnoxiously loud and insufferably crowded. Not at all like today.”

“I assume you didn’t put scenes from Japanese fairy tales and the Tenchi on Draco’s mobile,” Miranda said.

“No. Constellations. I thought it best not to depict the Miss Lee’s actual namesake. Rachel, I have no idea why you would choose to name your child after a woman who was murdered by being hung upside down in a vat of refuse.”

Rachel laughed. “Catholics sometimes make little sense to people who aren’t Catholic. But there are many martyrs with more gruesome deaths.”

“Besides,” Molly added, “you invoke a martyr to prevent whatever happened to them from happening to you.”

“It still seems macabre to me,” Severus insisted.

“It’s important to give expression to all sides of the human condition. And Magdalene is a lovely name,” Miranda countered.

“I never said that it wasn’t,” Severus protested.

“I’m afraid it will be a while before I’m able to finish the translations of that potions book I mentioned,” Rachel said, stifling a yawn.

“I quite understand. I look forward to when you are able to complete it, but I am aware that you have other demands on your time,” Severus said. “I do not have much reference for judging, but you appear to have produced a fine child. She has all of her limbs and seems able to eat and cry.”

“Why thank you. She cries especially well at night.” Rachel was not able to stifle the next yawn.

“So I see. I shall take my leave of you then, before those festivities start. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“And thank you for being here. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal one of these days. Maybe three years or so from now.”

He gave Rachel a short bow and Miranda accompanied him out of the room, amused by his gruff kindness to Rachel. But Rachel was a woman who made it easy to be kind. When they reached the door, his eyes darted about the room briefly. It was empty, and his kiss was surprisingly tender, but his expression when he pulled back was dark, as though he were thinking of something unpleasant.

“You are staying here tonight, correct?” he asked.

“I am. Tomorrow night too. Maggie doesn’t like to sleep unless someone is rocking her or walking with her, so I’m going to take a shift to give Aaron and Rachel a chance to rest,” Miranda replied.

“And you are meeting with Lucius tomorrow?”

“Yes. But don’t worry, Arthur will be there right on time to escort me away.”

He frowned and started tugging at the sleeve of his suit coat. “You should know that Lucius is fully aware that Black is not in Romania. He doesn’t know what you are doing there, but he is certain that whatever it is, it is not his bidding.”

Ah, that must be why Severus was acting so seriously. Miranda was touched by his concern, but she’d been handling Lucius Malfoy for the better part of a year now. She could take care of herself.

“Well, the Aurors are doing a pretty good job of watching my family. It may simply be time for me to cut ties with Malfoy. We’ve had a good run.”

His frown deepened and he traced her cheek with his finger. “Do try to be careful tomorrow. Lucius is not to be trifled with.

“I know. You warned him about me months ago.”

“I did, but sometimes warnings seem to go in one of your pretty ears and straight out the other.”

“Why don’t you come by tomorrow evening for supper? You can sit up with me while I rock the baby and we can hold hands like a pair of love-sick teenagers.”

This wrung a smile out of him, and he replied haughtily, “I have never been a love-sick teenager. I was born at the age of forty-five. But I will come, if only to hear about the afternoon’s disaster.”

“And to give me my birthday present,” Miranda reminded him.

“Yes. And to do that as well.”

*****

“Good day, gentlemen, it’s been entertaining. Papa will send over the exit papers tomorrow,” Miranda said as she sailed out the door, shutting it in her former employers’ sputtering faces.

Her heart was pounding in triumph, although she knew Papa was going to give her an earful. He’d understand though, he’d been at this long enough to know when a job was sour. Albus might be angry as well, but he’d just have to deal with it. She was doing enough for the Order in Romania that he’d better be happy with that.

The meeting had been unexpectedly short and Arthur wasn’t there waiting for her. The lift was out of the question at the moment, for she was far too jittery to be that confined. The stairway was deserted when she reached it, and her boots echoed off the ceiling as the torches flared to life and helpful signs on the walls chirped at her to watch her step. She was nearly to Arthur’s floor when she heard another set of footsteps on the stairs above her. Their rapidity and haughty sound told her they were Lucius’s. She quickened her step, but did not run, and she was not surprised to find the door leading out of the stairway locked. With a bored expression fixed on her face, she turned to watch Malfoy descend the final flight of stairs.

“A moment, Miss Rose,” he sneered.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think we’ve said everything we need to say to each other. I’m no longer in your employ, you may wash your hands of me and my behavior.”

He halted an arms length from her and his height forced her to look up at him.

“I don’t think you understand,” he continued. “You are meddling in forces that are far larger than Cornelius Fudge and the Ministry.”

“I think I understand plenty.”

“All the more reason that you should watch your step. You are still my pet to do with as I like.”

Only the knowledge that whipping out her wand and hexing Lucius within an inch of his life would bring down a host of Aurors and mountains of paperwork kept Miranda from doing so.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think we both know that I can kick your ass any time, anywhere. When you’re ready for a rematch, you just let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige you. And this time let’s say that the Unforgivables are on the table from the start. I think a nice round of Crucio followed by a quick Avada is just what you need.”

He grabbed her chin the way he had the night of his Christmas party, and Miranda decided she’d had enough. The way that his face blanched in surprise and confusion when the barrel of her pistol hit his chest was worth all the trouble of the day. He stared at it stupidly, and then let go of her chin to retreat a few steps.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now if you have anything further to say to me, why don’t you do it from right there.”

“If you think that Severus won’t hand you over when the time comes, you are sadly mistaken. And he will be the first in line to torture you when it comes to that,” he said, his voice shaking with rage.

She laughed harshly. “Do you think you’re telling me anything I don’t already know? Of course he’ll hand me over. I’m nothing but his plaything. All American women exist for the sole purpose of fulfilling the sexual fantasies of repressed Englishmen.” She cocked the gun and aimed it at his nether regions. “Go back upstairs, Mr. Malfoy. Before I get really angry.”

“You wouldn’t dare! We’re in the middle of the Ministry of Magic!”

“You sure you wanna try me? I do this for a living. I can get rid of you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and no one will know where to start looking for the pieces.”

Lucius glared at her, but continued his retreat. When he reached the landing, he turned and started stomping back the way he had come. The door behind Miranda unlocked itself, but she kept her gun in her hand until she was safely through it. Just as she was closing the door, she heard Lucius’s parting shot from above her.

“I am going to thoroughly enjoy your demise, Miss Rose. I promise you that.”

*****

“Sit down, Miranda, your pacing is making me dizzy,” Severus complained that evening. He was sitting on the sofa in the Lee’s homey living room, reading Coleridge aloud while Miranda paced with the sleeping Lee infant in her arms. The constant movement was distracting Severus from sorting the many thoughts twisting through his mind into appropriate categories in a vain attempt to pretend that he was in control of the situation. He knew he must bring up a terrifying subject this evening, before Miranda returned to Romania, and he found that he would prefer a meeting with the Dark Lord to the current situation.

“I’ll try, but I’ll probably be up again in five minutes,” Miranda agreed. She lowered herself into the rocking chair smoothly and Magdalene remained asleep. After the two of them were settled, she added, “You should have seen the looks on Malfoy’s and Fudge’s faces when I quit. I’ve never seen that particular shade of purple.”

Severus snorted. Although he would rather not deal with this new complication, part of him did wish that he had witnessed the scene in the stairwell. It was not often that Lucius met someone willing and able to stand up to him.

“I suppose it was impossible for you to continue playing that game any longer. I wish that I knew why Lucius is so sure about Black’s whereabouts. The idiot must have left cover when he well knows he is to remain indoors at all times.”

“What’s Black like? I’ve been pretending to hunt him for so long that I feel like I ought to know him.”

“He is a disgrace of a wizard and I do not wish to discuss him.”

“Sorry. We can talk about something else. I hear you have a birthday present for me.”

Yes, the present. That was by far the more comfortable topic. He was more than willing to postpone the other, even if this show of sentimentality on his part embarrassed him almost as much. He cleared his throat and pulled a small black box out of his pocket.

Eyeing Miranda’s full hands, he said, “Perhaps I should do the honors.”

“Please do.”

As uncomfortable as he was, he could not deny the warm rush of pleasure that went through him when he opened the box and saw her reaction to the tear-drop filigree necklace that waited inside of it. A lovely line of pink spread over her cheeks, her lips parted in surprise, and her eyes became the soft, calm gray of the sky after a storm.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled up at him and added playfully, “Although Mama would say I have no business accepting jewelry from men.”

“I assure you that this is purely a practical present.” He hung the necklace lightly around her neck so as not to disturb the infant. It was a handsome piece of frippery if he did say so himself. He’d passed it in the village near Miranda’s cabin several times before finally going back to purchase it. With a few well-placed charms it had become the perfect vessel for the real gift he had made for her.

“Oh? I see, there must be a potion inside of it. Is it a new one?”

“Correct on both counts. A Stasis Potion.”

“What does it do?”

“The next time you decide to get yourself maimed, you will drink it and it should keep you alive long enough for you to find further help.

“Should keep me alive? I don’t remember volunteering to be your test subject.”

“One of the hazards of keeping company with a Potions Master. I have tested it and it shows great potential.”

“Potential?”

“Being as you should only take it in a dire emergency, you will have nothing to lose should it fail to work. Of course, if you don’t care for it, you needn’t keep it. I am certain I can put it to another use.”

“No,” she said quickly, putting a protective hand over the pendant. “I love it. All of it. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

He leaned down to kiss her but, before he could make contact, the infant started fussing again, requiring Miranda to resume her pacing. Reluctantly, he reclaimed his spot on the sofa and opened the book. His agitation returned full force as he fidgeted with the pages without starting to read. Aaron’s off-handed remark from the day before had been plaguing him, as it had brought on the realization that he had been careless in the extreme. Carelessness was a trait that Severus despised and one that he could ill afford. Much as he dreaded the next topic of conversation, he knew that it was as unavoidable as it was tardy.

“You should keep reading,” Miranda said. “I think your voice was helping Maggie stay asleep.”

Best to get on with it before the infant started squalling again.

“There is something that I need to speak to you about first,” he began. It was good that he had left his hair down tonight. He could already feel his ears growing hot.

“If it’s about Malfoy, I know that you’ll hand me over to the Dark Lord if you have to. I understand.”

“That’s not at all what I was going to say. And I would not give you to the Dark Lord.”

“Yes you would. If your cover depended on it, you would do what you had to do.”

“I should think that I am clever enough to avoid doing that if at all possible.”

“I know that too. I just wanted you to know that I understand that it’s a risk.”

“Now that I have your permission to sacrifice you, would it be quite acceptable for us to discuss a more pressing difficulty?”

“More pressing? What might that be?”

“It has come to my attention that we have not been terribly cautious in our relationship.” Not his best opening.

“I’ve never been cautious in all my life. So?”

“I don’t think you take my meaning. I was referring particularly to the carnal aspect of our relationship.” She blinked and bit her lips, and he knew she wanted to laugh at him. “I mean to say…I am concerned that long term consequences may develop…or may already be developing….”

Mercifully, she interrupted him, although she couldn’t quite keep the laughter out of her voice. “Severus, are you asking me if I’m pregnant?”

He was almost pathetically grateful she’d said it for him. “Yes, I am.”

“It’s a little late to worry about that, don’t you think?”

Did that mean she was? “Be that as it may, there are plans that need to be made. I cannot think of a worse time for such an event, but that is all the more reason we should deal with it purposefully.”

“I see you have a plan.”

In an attempt to manage his discomfort, he stood and paced over to the fireplace, tapping his fingers irritably on the mantelpiece. The figures in the framed pictures perched on it were whispering and grinning at him, but his stern glare sent them back to minding their own affairs. His eyes drifted down to the merry jumping of the flames and he forced himself to continue.

“I always have a plan. There is no escaping from either your current obligation in Romania, nor can I leave my position at Hogwarts. I will explain the situation to Albus and I am certain that he can be persuaded to spare us a member of the Order to help you and to ensure your and the child’s safety. Once you are free of your blasted mission, you will return to your family in America and stay there until the problem of the Dark Lord is resolved. We should also get married sometime before the child is born, but I expect that you will have some opinions about how that is to be accomplished.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

“I was remiss in not thinking of it before. I hope never to be so incautious again. It is highly unusual for me to be so careless.”

“Severus, stop. I’m not pregnant. And, before you ask, yes, I’m sure.”

“Ah.” God, he was a idiot. “Well. Good.”

“Did this have to do with whatever Aaron was teasing you about yesterday? For a diplomat, he can be pretty tactless when he’s sleep-deprived and inebriated.”

“His comments merely reminded me that I had not been cautious with regards to that aspect of our relationship. I could not recall ever seeing the necessary potions in your cabin, nor the ingredients for them. And, in any case, I would rather prepare such potions myself.”

“You didn’t see any of those potions because I don’t need them. I can’t have children.”

Her voice was light, but there was a strange undercurrent of tension in it. When he turned his gaze from the fire to glance at her, the mask of her smile reminded him of the one she’d shown him during that wretched exchange of insults at her cabin when they had first met.

“There’s no need for you to worry, you’re quite safe,” she went on. “We can be as careless as we like and there won’t be any mud-blood brats running around afterwards.”

“Don’t use that word,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“Call a spade a spade. Why else are you so relieved that I’m not knocked up?”

“I should think that it were apparent that now would be a terrible time to have a child. You are trapped by bond in a dangerous mission in Romania and I am bound to the precarious life of a spy.”

“It’s not because you don’t want to further pollute the Prince bloodlines?”

“When did I ever say that?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her mask falling away. When she opened them, they were soft again, but with sadness, not with pleasure.

“You didn’t,” she conceded. “That was unfair of me.”

The sorrow in her eyes hurt him, and he came away from the fire that he might run his fingers over her dry cheek. She leaned into his touch, and the sweet smell of the balsam oil the priest had put on Magdalene’s head the day before filled his nose. Miranda held the infant tucked under her chin with a natural grace, the way she did everything. The pair of them made such a comfortable image that he felt irrationally disappointed he could not hope ever to see Miranda pacing by his fire, cradling a dark-haired child of their own.

“It is true that I have never desired to become a father,” he said, his eyes on Magdalene’s downy black curls, “but, if it had to happen, I would not be sorry that it was with you.”

The child began to stir and Miranda broke away to resume her pacing. He could not bring himself to look at her face after such an admission, and he was relieved that her voice was returning to its usual sanguine tone when she spoke.

“I…I could use a cup of tea, I think. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Relieved to have something mundane to do, he started for the kitchen. But he could not quit the room without his curiosity prompting him to say, “Miranda, I must ask why you are so certain that you cannot have children.”

“Just trust me on this. I don’t think you want to hear all the gory details.”

“No. I suppose I don’t.”

His thoughts were a tangled mess as he went into the kitchen and began the calming ritual of making tea. Methodically filling the kettle, setting it to boil by charm and measuring the tea leaves into Rachel’s white and blue teapot brought him back to earth. All the while, his instinct was pricking him, telling him that there was more to Miranda’s explanation, and he had the urge to continue digging until he uncovered what it was. He did his best to crush the urge and let whatever it was lie. Their relationship was quickly becoming confusing and more complicated than was at all prudent.

It was for the best that she would be returning to Romania tomorrow. Distance would help to put things back into their usual places. Their casual relationship was perfectly pleasing as it was. Best not to think of anything else.

Somewhere in his heart he knew this was a lie. He embraced it like a lover and poured out the kettle over the leaves.

-------------------------------------

End Notes:

Belladonna is deadly nightshade and Cicuta is water hemlock.

Magdalene Tokoyo Lee is named for St. Magdalene of Nagasaki, who was brutally martyred in 1620 and Tokoyo, a young lady who killed a sea serpent.

Newly baptized babies are the best smelling creatures in the world.

-----------------------------------

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Nineteen+

Chapter Twenty-one+ >>

#severus snape #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #severus snape fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #ocappreciation #snape x oc #second wizarding war #espionage #spying #adventure #romance #ilvermorny #baptism

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thebeethathums · 6 years

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Observers - 51

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

John pretty much expected his phone to ring sometime in the near future, what he didn’t expect was for the person on the other end to be Sherlock, “Can (F/n) dance?” “Umm… Not particularly, no. She’s pretty decent at salsa and the tango-something about the music-… and I’ve seen her do a bearable very basic waltz but other than that she’s awful. Doesn’t keep her from doing so but really… just complete rubbish.” Sherlock hung up on John so he didn’t have to deal with his questions, having already gotten the information he needed, and strode across the street to the small dance club. It wasn’t hard to find you since both you and Gabriel weren’t exactly shy, dancing openly near the center of the floor, and for a moment, Sherlock did what a number of other people were already doing and tucked himself off the side to watch. He’d never been so bombarded with emotions in his entire life and, while normally he would have found this either interesting and taken extensive notes or immensely annoying that he couldn’t reign in his feelings, at this moment he was so far beyond that that all he could manage was jealousy. For the first time in his life this wasn’t about experimenting or studying human behavior, it was just simple raw emotion.

It took him a while to tear his eyes away from you- the way your hips were moving was entrancing and he was beginning to feel hot and short of breath. Then there was the smile on your face- it could have lit up the whole room it was so bright and uninhibited. He’d only seen you smile like that a few times before but every time it managed to unwittingly bring a smile to his own face. This time though, his face quickly fell into a frown because that smile was directed towards the suave looking Spaniard in front of you, his hands wandering over your various curves as he spun you and your lilting laugh mingled with the upbeat rhythms and punctuating brass notes.

Had Sherlock been a more impulsive and base man, he would have very quickly ended the scene with a series of quick but forceful blows to Gabe’s nose, jaw… and possibly throat. Fortunately, he was not. He clenched his hands tightly as his natural instincts screamed at him to do something, setting his jaw and forcing himself to tackle this like he did everything else, with precision and logic. You startled badly when Gabe spun you and you ran directly into Sherlock a few feet away, blinking up at him confusedly for a second and then letting out an exasperated sigh, “What are you doing here, Sherlock?” “You stopped responding to my texts” “I’m on a date.” “It was an emergency.” Gabe slid up behind you, wrapping a protective arm around your waist with a serious frown, “Is everything alright here, mi hermosa?”

You turned from glaring at Sherlock to press a calming hand on Gabe’s chest, offering him a reassuring smile, “Everything is fine, Gabe. I know him.” You gave Sherlock a look that told him he had better behave or you were never going to speak to him again and he clenched his jaw, holding back the biting deductions and other viciousness that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Gabe sized up the man in front of you with a wary glare and Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he extended a hand, doing everything in his power not to just punch him and end this, “Sherlock Holmes and you are…?” “Gabriel. Gabriel Salazar.” You didn’t like where this was going so you quickly offered, “He was just lea-“ “I was just asking if I could have the next dance. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Sherlock interjected smoothly, trying to keep his expression as amicable as possible. Gabe pursed his lips, looking between the two of you before tucking you to him tightly, “I think she’s enjoying dancing with me right now.” The music suddenly changed to the distinctive rhythm of a tango with a slight salsa twist and there were a few groans from other dancers around you as Sherlock gave the slightest of smirks, detectable only by you. Gabe huffed, blatantly ignoring Sherlock to look at you as he pushed some hair away from your face, “The tango is not my dance, Cariño. Shall we grab some drinks?” Unwilling to let this little event ruin your night, you pouted at him and ran your fingers teasingly down his chest as you leaned in a little, “But I like the tango, Gabe. Please?” You both swiveled to look at Sherlock when he hummed, “A happy coincidence. I also enjoy the tango,” before extending a hand for you, “May I?” You could see anger flash in Gabe’s eyes as his grip on you tightened protectively and you felt your own temper flare but pushed it down, patting his chest calmly, “It’s only one dance, Gabe. He and I need to have a little talk anyways.” He searched your face, worry apparent in his eyes, but you gave him a small reassuring smile so he relinquished his grip on you grumbling, “I will be right over there if you need me, Querida.” Sherlock flashed a smug smirk at your date as he stepped away and you took his still extended hand, allowing him to pull you into the close steps of the dance as you seethed, “Why are you doing this? You do know that requesting a tango in the middle of a salsa night is like a death wish, don’t you?” “Who said I requested it?” he thrummed, dipping you down as his large hand stroked down the curve of your waist. You pursed your lips and gave him a look that said don’t play games with me as you twirled away from him, glad that the dance allowed for a bit of teasing on your part. He was quick to pull you back flush against him with his forehead nearly touching yours, “Why didn’t you come home?” You faltered momentarily as his gorgeous eyes locked with yours in an intense stare and his long legs gracefully wrapped around yours in a quick succession of movements. You took the opportunity of the next move to look away as you huffed, “Nothing was wrong, Sherlock. Can’t I have one night without you being the center of my attention.” “You weren’t complaining last night,” he hummed, his nose brushing against your collarbone as he dipped you again, fitting himself against you and running a hand up your bare thigh when you bent your leg to bring your knee up to his hip. Your breath caught in your throat and you threw your leg back to force him to bring you up, cursing the intimacy of the dance. He caught your hand when you twirled away again, keeping your face turned away from him as you growled, “Why does it bother you so much, Sherlock? I’m just an experiment to you.” With a flick of his wrist, he spun you back to him, a hand at the small of your back keeping you close as he frowned at you confusedly, “I don’t understand why you are upset.” You abruptly stopped dancing, pulling away from him as you lowly fumed, “You are so bloody ignorant, you arrogant cock. I let you trick me into thinking you cared but John was right- all I am is some specimen for you to run your little tests on so you can learn more about the colloquialisms of the mushy ignorant minds of everyone who is not you.” He gaped at you for a second, mind racing to analyze what you’d just said, and you turned to look for Gabriel, storming off with Sherlock close behind, “(F/n).” He caught your wrist just as you reached a concerned looking Gabriel and you spun to snap, “I care about you, Sherlock, more than I should… but I can’t do this! You took something wonderful between two people and made it into something cold and meaningless. And now you... I’m not some plaything at your beck and call! I have feelings! I’ve already been with someone who didn’t love me, who hurt me, and I will not end up in that situation again. I deserve to be loved- to be happy!” You lost your battle against the tears and they quickly rushed the territory of your cheeks, a mix of sadness and anger filling your chest as you slapped him hard across the face and spun on your heel to leave, grabbing Gabriel’s arm as you went. You stopped short when he didn’t move, removing himself gently from your grasp to face Sherlock who for once in his life looked a little stunned. There was a sharp crack as Gabriel’s fist collided with Sherlock’s face before he turned back to you, leaving Sherlock sprawled out on the floor rubbing at his wounded jaw. He wrapped an arm around you to lead you away from everything as he whispered sweet Spanish nothings in your ear, trying to soothe you. You let him, sparing only a tearful fleeting glance over your shoulder at the man you loved before slipping out into the cool night air.

Tags <3:

@team-free-sherlock @multifandom-ramblings @madshelily @severusminerva @yes-but-theyre-my-dorks @smitemewiththysherlock @not-fandom-addicted @unknownwonder @deducingdevil @aviien @mrsfrankensteinsworld @lolamurphy @bakerstreethound @musical-doll-x @protectteamfreewill @delightful-pirate @lilcutekittykat @broke-and-overwhelmed @adri1ii @turtle-at-the-disco @fanfictionsilove @chasedbyhowlingwolves @thorkyrie-rights

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siderealxmelody · 5 years

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Havani: The Revolutionary

@nptperfect-indadseyes

@waywardlightbearer

@aprincess-and-herknight

@fallcnintohell

@charmed-redemption

Havani was no one. A young jinni of a forgotten clan. But then again, all the clans has more or less been forgotten. The royal family was what was important.

Shah Iblis was on the throne now. He had been foretold by the Harab Serpel fo bring peace and unity to their people.

For a time it seemed like he had.

When he wrestled control from his deranged nephews and killed them the people cheered. Iblis had stopped the civil war between loyalists to each brother from escalating.

But his tactics to remain in control didn't seem like something that a good Shah would do. He silenced critics and seemed more interested in wanting to forge relationships with angels and demons, than help his own people.

Restless grew among Havani's clan and neighboring states. It was by chance that Havani went with his father to the Capital, he had always wished to go. His father had raised him on stories of the City of Brass's beauty and people.

However, what he was saw was nothing from his stories. He saw crumbling buildings and tired people. But it's not like they could do anything. Their life was subject to the Shah's whims. He was blessed by Sibling, no other leader was. So they would need to make due.

The spark of fire in him flared. He felt a warmth spread through him and his father met his eyes.

"You have found your Purpose Havani. What is the Purpose that Sibling has shared with you?"

"To change. They wish I change it all."

Havani's father nodded and patted his shoudler as they continued into the city. Havani wasn't sure he had a Faith in Sibling anymore. What type of God allowed for this to happen? Still, he would keep it outwardly if only to achieve his goal - a world made for and by jinn. A world where royalty was a thing of the past.

For the next two decades he wormed his way to the top. He met with palace officials and Palis jinn - jinn who were the property of the palace for crimes they or their great great grandparents. Only allowed freedom if they were fourth generation or more removed.

He would do away with such things. He fell for a young Palis jinni named Opal. Palis jinn were given names of gemstones, not allowed a proper name.

She asked him one night what he would name her. He shook his head, it was up to get to find a name. He wouldn't - couldn't choose it for her.

Finally the day had come. He launched a surprise coup taking the palace and killing anyone loyal to the old regime.

The Harab Serpel was killed, their energy was ripped from them and their bodies hung from the palace turrets. There would be no more belief in false gods.

Iblis and his family fled to the mortal world. And Havani lead his fellow jinn in a chase after them. For five years they searched finally finding them in a small suburban neighborhood.

Havani gave Iblis an ultimatum death or humanity. Iblis and his wife decided humanity. At least this way their children would stay alive.

Havani nodded and took their power leaving them alone. Though he warned them, any rumors of Iblis trying to grab power back and they would all die.

For good measure he put a sigil on their hearts - any jinn always be able to find them.

Havani came back a hero, showing his people Iblis's bloody power. He told his people what was to happen. The power wouldn't go to waste. It would go to power a generator - they would rely on themselves alone.

No more would they be at the mercy of humans, angels, or demons.

The jinn around him cheered. They would finally be free.

That night Opal told him the name she had chosen for herself - Rata, meaning flower. Havani thought it fit her perfectly.

The next day they got married before the people on the steps of the palace. A marking of a new age, an age of equality not oppression.

#reference

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thesunlounge · 5 years

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Reviews 245: Visible Cloaks, Yoshio Ojima & Satsuki Shibano

I owe much of my interest in modern Japanese music to the duo of Spencer Doran and Ryan Carlile, otherwise known as Visible Cloaks. Valve / Valve Revisted introduced me to dip in the pool, who have since become a beloved favorite, and the far-out sounds and forward thinking production techniques of Japan have long informed the duo’s approach. As well, Spencer Doran spent years diving into the country’s environmental, new age, fourth-world, and future-pop landscapes and issued a couple of essential mixes for Root Strata in this direction, with his work eventually leading to the breathtaking Kankyō Ongaku collection on Light in the Attic…all of which have had a massive impact on my own musical journey. So it’s entirely fitting, if not fated, that Visible Cloaks’ first contribution to RVNG Intl.’s longstanding FRKWYS series sees Doran and Carlile joining together with Satsuki Shibano and Yoshio Ojima, two masters of innovative sound design and visual art that were highly influential on Japan’s cultural landscape during the 80s and 90s and whose work continues to resonate today: Shibano through her immersive piano dreamscapes inspired by Satie and Debussy and Ojima via his explorations of computerized composition and in scoring artistic and public spaces such as Wacoal’s famous Spiral building. And like all FRKWYS pairings, it completes a circle of influence and inspiration, with elder artists stirring the creativity of younger generations, whose novel approaches then inform and are folded back into the work of the original source…a sort of eternal conversation between past and present about the sonic landscapes of the future.

In the write up for serenitatem, RVNG discuss the group’s interests in aleatoric music, the British avant grade, pre-classical composition, and Lovely Music, Ltd, as well as Ojima’s and Satsuki’s groundbreaking work with the St. Giga radio installation…a free-form and continuously broadcasted collage of field recordings, poetry, and audio experimentation that looms large over the approach and vision of serenitatem. As for the process, Doran and Carlile recorded sketches while on tour and sent them to Ojima, who added his own sounds and edits before returning the recordings to the duo. So it continued for months, with the trio trading ideas and building on each others’ manipulations until a studio session in Tokyo brought all four musicians together, allowing them to further enhance their preliminary experiments and create new compositions on the spot. And the results are truly beguiling…a spellbinding coalescence of futuristic sonic exploration and deeply human emotion that features cloudforms of orchestral gas shattering into crystalline vapor; funereal organs playing ancient hymns to the sun; tropical new age textures surrounded by spectral space foam; mermaid choirs singing through overtone resonances; and marbles vibrating within tunnels of morphing glass. And though the sensibilities of Visible Cloaks and Ojima are almost entirely indistinguishable, the artistic identity of Shibano is uniquely discernible, with her effected voice and majestic piano themes standing out amidst the rainbow energy fields and fractal orchestrations while also feeding generative MIDI software, in turn creating new and ever-evolving paths of exploration.

Visible Cloaks, Yoshio Ojima & Satsuki Shibano - FRKWYS Vol. 15: serenitatem (RVNG Intl., 2019) In “Toi,” liquids drip over aquatic swells while gong drone overtones hover in place before rapidly vaporizing. Vocals awash in a haze of euphoria flow into the mix on layers of aquamarine synthesis, ringing feedback tones weave pastoral melodies, and disjointed piano chords splash through crystalline tide pools while swirling noise clouds move chaotically before being sucked out of existence. The mix is repeatedly intercut by globules of bouncing glass that wash the stereo field clean and after a false ending and a fade to silence, oceanic orchestrations diffuse into the mix with swelling string reveries and long glorious bow strokes calling out to the dawn. Sometimes breathy choirs join in with these etheric chamber incantations while liquiying metals flow throughout the spectrum. And as the track ends, mystical electronics create starry-eyed sound swirls and decaying bodies of spectral mist. “Anata” follows with a shimmering world of tonal mesmerism where voices and machines blur together…like mermaid choirs coalescing with the droning hum of an industrial machine. Bleary-eyed orchestrations intermingle with textures of brass as Shibano delivers a strangely effected spoken work performance, with her voice morphing and modulating discontinuously while fracturing across the spectrum. Then, as futuristic whispers transmute into bleeping static amidst insectoid oscillations, a heavenly streak of soprano calls out from the void.

The MIDI-generated idiophone melodies of “You” are sourced from the words of “Anata” using Intermorphics’s Wotja software and the result is a paradise of gleaming gamelan starlight. Shibano’s piano merges perfectly with the vibraphone dream weavings while heartbeat pulses, blasts of white noise, and plucked string tones fade in from shadowy depths. Amorphous pad hazes swell in strength then dissolve into ether as siren pulses generate machine rhythms at odds with the free form idiophone tapestries. Feminine whispers pan wildly while throbbing bass currents flow in from all directions and there’s a strange moment where the mallet instruments recede, leaving the soul afloat in a delirious landscape of morphing sonic magic. “Atelier” revels in microtonal vibrations, industrial droning, and layers of humid resonance, which all eventually set the stage for a gorgeous melody played out on synthesized woodwinds. The mind is enchanted by longform oboe and bassoon lullabies while the background is painted over by glimmering wavefronts and smoldering vibrations that never rise above a spiritual hum. Tibetan bowls sing over tapped gongs while the lonely ping of a vibratube calls out periodically and deep within the spectral fog, timpani drums can be heard pounding away. The meditative woodwind spells eventually feature several layers intertwining, while chittering lizard fx and slithering psychedelics contrast the beatific mood. And if you listen closely, you can hear Shibano alighting on free jazz cloudbursts and atonal fantasias deep within the radiant miasma.

“Lapis Lazuli” sees mirage drone atmospherics suffused with flute and birdsong tones while waves of some nacreous and opalescent fluid crash against an unfamiliar shore. Shibano moves through the wavering landscape with further spoken spells which are this time bare and unaffected…just pure and expressive vocalisms surround by skittering static washes, glowing ghost melodies, and universal string vibrations divorced from any source of attack. At some point, electrified gemstones start raining down upon the mix…these crystalline structures of every possible color bouncing and vibrating in ways that defy logic, which are perhaps sourced by an electric piano...only one obscured by infinite layers of sonic manipulation. As the song progresses, Shibano’s voice becomes increasingly shrouded in robotic strangeness, eventually leaving humanity behind altogether in favor of cyborg sizzle and free flowing android poetry. Chime tones are stretched and smeared into a feedback haze above the soft pitter-patter of dripping water, heatwave vapors wash across the mix, and chaotic bell alarm oscillations seem to spin at the speed of light before swelling into solar flare sound spirals. All the while, the landscape is increasingly colored by the calls of alien jungle fauna as the flowing water takes on the appearance of a mystical stream surrounded by dense layers of extra-terrestrial vegetation.

The beads of bouncing glass from “Toi” return in “Stratum”, here splattering over ring-modulated steel-drum tones. It’s a tropical lullaby accented by towering piano chords and swirled around by angelic choral hazes and rainbow fog refractions. Starshine modulations cut through the air as the island melodies recede, leaving behind an expanse of new age celestial shimmer. Then comes one of the most breathtaking and hard to describe sonic effects I have ever heard, generated by using Shibano’s piano improvisation to source reactive idiophone and voice cascades in Ableton. Imagine a choir of angels and the bars of a marimba as if transformed into a field of colorful flowers, such that each time an oceanic piano chord cluster or radiant ivory lead drops, it’s like a cyclonic wind disturbs the field, causing the individual flowers to sway drunkenly out of phase. But eventually, the harmonious drone currents and pastoral sonic breezes cause the marimbas and voices to lock together into a loose rhythm….as if all the flowers of the field are flowing in unison beneath a bright shining sun. And going further, Shibano’s spontaneous melodies are discernible amidst the synthetic mallet and dreamworld voice motions, leading to an ever-evolving and deeply moving interplay between improvised human beauty and aleatoric computer magic.

Though most of the album explores cutting edge spaces and forward thinking sonic languages, Doran, Carlile, Shibano, and Ojima reserve the final track on each side for immersive excursions into the musics of the distant past. The A-side houses “S’amours ne fait par sa grace adoucir (Ballade 1),” originally written in the 12th century by the ars nova poet and composer Guillaume de Machaut. Ecclesiastical organs reach across centuries with polyphonic wonderment, first flying solo, then joined by bell tones and chiming vibrations of medieval metal. And at some point, the organ fades away and is replaced by effervescent fluids and wispy string synthesis…like a chamber orchestra playing through gentle distortions of space and time. Closing the album is “Canzona per sonare no. 4” by famed sacred music composer and organist Giovanni Gabrieli (1557-1612). Sonar tones revolve in long arcs before giving way to spacious stretches of silence while morphing bass pulsations underly Shibano’s baroque piano incantations. It’s a repeated refrain…childlike, naive, beautiful…backed by swelling pads, dreamworld atmospheres, and subtle hints of choral majesty. All the while, shards of ivory are caught up in fractal webs and reflected across the spectrum as overlapping feedback currents generate calming seascape motions that float the soul away.

(images from my personal copy)

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allhoseandvalves · 2 years

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The Best Supply of Specialty Automotive Hoses & Fittings

In today's time, there are a lot of specialised products in the market. Some would offer it twice the original price since it is for emergencies. Others would sell cheaper ones but have poor quality. That is why certified suppliers and distributors provide the best supply of automotive hoses & fittings to the customers.

Here are the specialised items that can withstand high pressures at work:

Specialty Automotive Hoses A fire hose is a high-pressure hose commonly used to extinguish fires. Fire hoses can be attached to a fire engine or a fire hydrant. Industrial fire hoses are rigid and flexible because they will handle high-pressure water. Some of the best quality hoses are as follows:

● Bettaflo Fire Hose This hose is suitable for industrial firefighting, water discharge, and dewatering. It is durable and resistant to abrasion. Also, it is UV, oil, petrol, and chemical resistant. And since fire stations have massive hose drying structures, Bettaflo Fire Hose does not need to be dried. Instead, you need to wipe it down after every use.

● Bettaflo Canvas Hose You can choose what jacket you like best with Bettaflo Canvas Hose. The jackets are 100% Polyester jackets, single jackets, and twill weave. The working pressure is estimated to be 17 bar, while the burst pressure is 51.

● Duraline Hose Duraline is the world's leading maintenance-free covered fire hose for fire brigades, airports, military bases, shipping, power stations, terminals, and many others. Duraline has become popular because of its outstanding performance, low maintenance, exceptional storage life, best value for money, and customer experience.

● PVC Black Fire Reel Hose When it comes to Fire Hose Reel, this type has excellent performance characteristics such as anti-flaming, ageing resistance, erosion resistance, and so on. Therefore, it is suitable for markets, hotels, warehouses, and residences.

Specialty Automotive Fittings When buying hose fittings, selecting a supplier who can differentiate them based on connection type and function is essential. Although fittings have the same structure, each has a specific purpose and kind. At All Hose & Valves, we offer a variety of fittings such as air hose fittings, brass hose fittings, gas fittings, air compressor hoses and fittings, and hydraulic hose fittings, CCR hose and fittings, and more.

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Source From: https://allhoseandvalves.wordpress.com/2022/07/06/the-best-supply-of-specialty-automotive-hoses-fittings/

#Automotive Hoses & Fittings #Hose Supplies #Hose Supply #Industrial Hose Suppliers #Industrial Hoses #Automotive Hose

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leadfreebrass · 6 months

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Why Choose Lead Free Brass Fittings for Plumbing Industry?

A lead free brass is a toxic metal that can leach from brass plumbing components into drinking water, causing adverse health effects. That is why is important to choose lead free brass fittings for both public water systems and residential plumbing.

#lead free brass #lead free brass fittings #lead free brass manufacturer #lead free brass compression fittings #lead free brass pipe fittings #lead free brass hose barb fittings #lead free brass garden hose fittings #lead free brass flare fittings #brass #brass parts #brass components

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valaveable · 2 years

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Brass Water line Fittings are hugely durable and extremely versatile

Brass Water line Fitting Manufacturers

Should you be looking for a trusted manufacturer of brass water line fittings, you will locate a few good options in the following paragraphs. Read on to find out about the different sorts of brass fittings accessible,Mixing Valves suppliers including cold extrusion, lead-free, tough, and flexible. Read on for other great tips to get the right manufacturer to your requirements. There are many advantages to purchasing brass fittings, so don't wait! Cold extrusion system

The cold extrusion method is really a common process between brass pipe fitting manufacturers. The main benefit of this method is always that it can be used to manufacture customized shapes, avoiding splits, flag holes and stone dust holes. Moreover, it does not require tubing getting ready. It can often be used in a bunch of pressure settings and is compatible with truck driver. However, you should stay away from brass pipe fittings in gas conduits, as they tend to be porous.

The cold extrusion process can be used for a variety of purposes, including machining. Extrusion is often a process by which in turn metal is pushed by having a die by any tensile force. Usually, cold extrusion equipment has a series of illustrating machines, each which includes a smaller die. Cold extruded brass provides excellent mechanical properties that will be machined easily to create various brass pipe fittings and valves. Lead-free

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Lead-free plumbing items are manufactured in compliance while using Federal Public Legislations 111-380 and Los angeles legislation. The weighted common of lead subject matter in plumbing products is not as much as 0. 25%. Lead-free brass pipe fitting manufacturers is not going to return obsolete inventories therefore to their manufacturer. The EPA declares that lead within plumbing products is harmful to the environment and will contaminate drinking water. The EPA's lead-free plumbing rule helps reduce the a better standard of lead in standard water. Durable

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The primary component of the brass pipe fitting is the threading. Most of all these fittings have threads with this report and the in the garden, and are essentially identical. If you're installing them in to a water pipeline, you should use PTFE tape to seal the ends to prevent leaks. This material is also called Teflon tape, and is found at most plumbing contractor supply stores. It can be applied to many kinds of fittings, which include those used to get wastewater. Flexible

Brass Water line Fittings are hugely durable and extremely versatile, making them best for industrial applications and housing purposes. They are also available in various finishes, for instance nickel polished as well as chrome-plated. Manufacturers of most of these fittings also offer numerous different types. Below are a few of their attributes. Brass pipe is additionally available in distinct shapes, which can always be beneficial in a group of applications. The features of brass pipe are extensive. Listed below are several of their key features.

The first characteristic of your flexible brass tube fitting is it's flexibility. When weighed against other types involving fittings, brass is a most flexible. This is mainly because that it could be bent at nearly every angle. It is therefore works with various types involving pipes. It is a great choice for subterranean applications. Lastly, brass could be the most versatile stuff, and its array of applications clarifies that it's perfect for a large number of industries. If considering brass pipe fittings to your applications, you'll be very happy to know that it could be used for equally indoor and out of doors applications. Easy to install

You can use easy to install brass pipe fittings for a number plumbing needs. Step one is to get ready the pipes as well as fittings. Then, cut them employing a pipe cutter and also hacksaw. Clean them by using wire wool to cut out any residue. Subsequently, apply flux into the fitting and embed the pipe till the fitting can stop. Repeat this process for your other pipes. Any time all pipes are properly seated, solder the fitting together.

Another kind of brass pipe fitting will be the elbow. This fitting permits you to change direction very easily. Elbow brass fittings are most commonly used for 90-degree angles, but there can also be two-degree elbows available. Elbow brass pipe fittings can also be available in 1 OUT OF 3 and 90-degree variants. They also consist of various sizes. For anyone who is having trouble identifying which style you will need, you can as well order a brass tee, combining a compression nut along with a compression ring.

#Mixing valve system

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instrumxx · 1 year

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What is the use of tube fittings?

Tube fittings are important in connecting pipe and tube lines. They aid in properly functioning industrial fluid systems, providing a leak-proof and secure way to transfer liquids and gases. At Instrumxx Industries, we take pride in being the leading tube fitting manufacturer, supplier, stockist, and exporter in India. Our wide range of materials, standards, grades, and tube fittings ensures that you can find the perfect fit for your project.

In this article, we'll delve into the use and advantages of tube fittings, shedding light on their crucial role in industrial applications.

Understanding Tube Fittings

Tube fittings are essential components used to connect and secure pipes and tubes in various systems. They provide a leak-free connection, ensuring a smooth and reliable flow of fluids or gases. Whether it's a complex industrial setup or a simple plumbing system, tube fittings play a vital role in maintaining system integrity.

Tube fittings are versatile and adaptable, making them suitable for a wide range of applications. They can be used in industries such as oil and gas, chemical processing, pharmaceuticals, HVAC, and more. With their ability to handle high pressures and harsh environments, tube fittings offer a reliable solution for demanding industrial requirements.

Properties of Tube Fittings

Here are a few of the properties of Tube Fittings:

Secure and leak-free connections for pipes and tubes

Easy and quick installation

Durability to withstand high pressures and temperature variations

Versatile and adaptable for various industrial applications

Cost-effective compared to traditional methods

A wide range of materials, standards, and grades are available

Compatibility with different types of fluids and gases

Reusability for system modifications or expansions

Reliable performance in harsh environments

Expert technical support and guidance are available

Advantages of Tube Fittings

Leak-proof connections: Tube fittings offer tight seals, minimizing the risk of leaks and reducing the potential for costly system failures.

Easy installation and disassembly: With various types of fittings available, installation becomes a hassle-free process, and disassembly for maintenance or repairs is convenient.

Versatility and adaptability: Tube fittings are versatile and can accommodate different tube sizes, materials, and connection methods, providing flexibility in system design.

Wide range of material compatibility: Tube fittings are available in materials such as stainless steel, brass, and plastic, ensuring compatibility with diverse applications and fluids.

Resistance to high pressure and temperature: Tube fittings are designed to withstand demanding conditions, making them suitable for high-pressure and high-temperature environments.

Types of Tube Fittings

There are several types of tube fittings offered by us at Instrumxx Industries

Below Mentioned are the following:

Ferrule Fittings

Compression Tube Fittings

Double Compression Tube Fittings

Barbed Fittings

Push-to-Connect Fittings

Threaded Fittings

Cone and Thread Fittings

Polypropylene

Flare Fittings

Aerospace

Nickel Alloy Tube Fittings

PTFE Tube Fittings

JIC Fittings

Pneumatic Fittings

DIN 3865 Hydraulic Fittings

Uses of Tube Fittings

Tube fittings are essential components used in various industries for connecting, controlling, and directing the flow of fluids or gases through tubing systems. These fittings serve multiple purposes and offer numerous benefits. One of their primary uses is to establish secure and leak-free connections between tubes, ensuring efficient fluid transfer. Tube fittings are also employed for joining different sizes or types of tubes, allowing compatibility between various components. Moreover, they enable easy assembly and disassembly of tubing systems, facilitating maintenance and repairs. Additionally, tube fittings play a vital role in regulating fluid flow and pressure, due to their ability to incorporate valves, regulators, and other control mechanisms.

Overall, tube fittings are indispensable tools for creating reliable, versatile, and flexible piping systems across a wide range of industries, including manufacturing, oil and gas, chemical processing, pharmaceuticals, and many others.

Applications of Tube Fittings

Tube fittings are widely used in various industries and applications for connecting and controlling the flow of fluids and gases. Here are some common applications of tube fittings:

Plumbing and HVAC Systems

Oil and Gas Industry

Chemical Processing

Pharmaceutical and Biotechnology

Food and Beverage Industry

Automotive and Aerospace

Water Treatment and Desalination

Instrumentation and Control Systems

Pneumatics and Hydraulic Systems

Renewable Energy and so on

Final Thoughts!.. Tube fittings are essential components for creating reliable and secure connections in various industries. Instrumxx Industries, as a leading tube fitting manufacturer, offers a wide range of high-quality fittings to meet your project requirements. By considering factors such as project specifications, compatibility, environmental conditions, and cost-effectiveness, you can select the perfect tube fittings for your application. Trust Instrumxx Industries as a superior tube fittings supplier that deliver performance, durability, and value for your projects.

#tube fittings #instrumentation tube fittings

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uglymanchronicles · 7 years

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Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Chapter 1: Hard Reboot

This hasn’t been edited yet, but I wanted to finally post it. I’ll update when it’s been looked over.

The first thing Evan realized was that something was halfway down his throat and he had no idea what it was or how it got there. As he choked and spluttered, spraying the liquid and coughing saliva all over the table in front of him, he realized that he didn't know where he was. He realized everything hurt to a startling degree and his gagging and retching weren't helping; in fact, he was pretty sure he was about to vomit. Looking around desperately, he spotted a door adorned with a faded stick-man symbol and lurched to his feet. What parts of his brain weren't trying to propel his uncooperative body forward dimly made the connection that he was in a bar, and a seedy one at that. Stumbling through the door on leaden legs, he fell to the floor in front of the nearest urinal and heaved something searing and foul into the shallow basin. Vomit was sticking to something on his face. What was stuck to his face? Why did it feel like he hadn't eaten in days? Why couldn't he remember yesterday? How did he get here? And, most presently, why was he touching a stained-brown urinal with his bare hands?

“Uueurrghh.” Evan had intended for it to be a groan of disgust, but a combination of confusion, exhaustion, and a wickedly sore throat resulted in a sound like a rusty gate with a drinking problem. He shoved himself up to his feet and half-fell into the sink. Was he drunk? No, this didn’t feel like drunk. Was he on something? He hoped it wasn’t coke again. If that was the case this was probably the come-down. No, that probably wasn’t it. Sitting alone in a dingy bar—or just sitting still—was not a usual cocaine activity. Could he have mixed a bunch of drugs and accidentally damaged his brain? Surely he was smarter than that!

He could figure that out later. First things first. The mirror was, unsurprisingly, a mess: cracks, stains, inane sharpie and/or car-key graffiti, stickers from shitty bands all around the edges. There was enough untainted glass to provide a reflection of his face, though, and what stared back at him was a good match for the mirror.

What he’d felt sticking to his face were bandages. A lot of bandages. Not a square inch of his face was free of gauze or cotton. On top of that, he was wearing a very bulky pair of dark sunglasses, a black baseball cap, and a dark gray hoodie with the hood up. He noted that the jacket looked like it had been sloppily repaired, but potential facial mutilation took priority.

Maybe he was thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe he’d finally had plastic surgery like he always considered doing. Maybe the reason he felt so messed up was because of painkillers or something. Great. Opiates. He didn’t want to think about the intestinal ramifications of that. But wait…

No, he hadn’t gone under the knife. Taking off the sunglasses for a closer look, he realized that, under the bandages, the shape of his face was still the same. His nose—broken for the first time before he even hit puberty and at least four times since then—still stuck out over an inch from his face at the bridge, then continued downward, juking from left to right to left again before ending in wide nostrils just above his weirdly plush lips. Said lips pursed in annoyance as Evan realized that his ‘aesthetic idiosyncrasies’, as his father had once called them, were still intact. He opened his mouth and clacked his teeth together, feeling around in his mouth with his tongue. Nope. Still didn’t close properly on the left. He tilted his head to up and to the right, trying to see his jaw. Yep. Still crooked from where it hadn’t healed properly.

Maybe he’d been in an accident. A lot of other parts of him hurt besides his face. He patted his chest gently, intending to feel if there were more bandages anywhere else on his body, and froze in place when something clanked. He was suddenly aware of the weight he was carrying, of contact against his skin. A sudden chill ran through him and he straightened up very slowly. Glancing around nonchalantly to make sure he was alone, he slowly walked into the solitary stall and closed the door.

Surrounded by scratched-out phone numbers promising an ambiguous good time and cast in shadow by flickering fluorescent bulbs, Evan took stock of the rest of himself. First, he pulled down his hood, feeling his ponytail unfurl as he did so. It felt greasy, which was no surprise, but it also felt like there was more of it than there should be. The possibility that he’d lost a significant amount of time was looking more and more likely.

Panic later. Figure out the here and now.

Next, he pulled off the baseball cap, noting that it felt weirdly heavy. He turned it over in his hands, examining it; it looked like a plain black snapback cap with a slightly curved brim, but when he moved it, the sensation of unbalanced weight and the slight sound of particles shifting drew his attention to the back of the hat. His fingers found a strange mass at the back of the hat, just above the opening. Heavy, dense, discrete. Just the right hardness and weight to break someone’s nose if swung correctly.

Why was he wearing a sap cap? For what purpose did he even own such a gimmicky ‘weapon’? That was the realm of the dangerously paranoid and the moronically edgy. There must be a reason. Had he been attacked? He’d known that was a possibility, but he should have been well off the radar. Had he gotten sloppy? Somehow leaked his location? More questions with no Goddamn answers. A long, exasperated breath slid between his lips as he ran his hand through his hair. A thought occurred to him mid-stroke. He seized a few strands of hair at the root and tugged. The strands between his fingers were at least a foot long, but what he was looking for was at the base. He grunted disdainfully. The last inch of his hair abruptly shifted colors from a nondescript medium-brown to a vivid corn-silk blond. Shit. That meant it had at least been a month. He remembered getting touched up in early February.

Christ.

So. A concealed weapon, massive injury to his face, missing at least a month of memory. This was going to get worse before it got better.

Evan returned his attention to his clothes. The hoodie had been roughly patched up on the left side of the chest, as he’d noticed earlier, but the damage was more extensive than he’d first thought. The cloth had been torn all the way under his left arm and around the back, and seemed to have been repaired by stapling a deflated football over the hole. Evan felt a surge of disgust at that. Such shoddy, slap-dash, jerry-rigged ‘sewing’ was so far beneath his abilities as to be nauseating. And he’d gone out in public like that! Had he lost his mind?

He unzipped the butchered garment and pulled it away from himself. Ah. That explained the weight, but for once it was something that didn’t fill him with a sense of panicked confusion. He’d taken to wearing a bulletproof vest since taking to the road, but… it didn’t feel as heavy he remembered. What was worrying was that it seemed to have actually seen some use. There were scrapes, scratches, and more than a few patches (much more professionally done, he noticed with some pride) here and there. He patted the vest down; uneven rigidity and weight lead him to conclude that several of the plates had been replaced. He felt his jaw clench as he accepted the logical conclusion: he’d been shot at least once.

He’d have to figure out the who, when, and why later. He was wearing something else, something hard and smooth, very close to his skin, under his shirt, but he couldn’t get to it with the vest on. Back to that later, then.

He was aware that he was being very systematic about something as mundane as looking at one’s own clothes, but he assumed he was in some sort of shock. Maybe going through this weird checklist would calm him down enough to figure out what was going on. He decided to just roll with it.

The pants were a welcome sight. Familiar and relatively normal. He’d designed and sewn them himself; a decent amount of pocket space without the bulkiness of cargo pants. Not exactly high fashion, but not something you’d glance twice at. Apparently gray was the color of the day. He was wearing some kind of hiking boot he didn’t immediately recognize, but that was nothing sinister. He probably wouldn’t recognize the socks he was wearing eith—okay, what was that?

Something was strapped around his waist, right around his navel, and he realized that another was running up over his shoulder, which mean they had to be meeting somewhere in the back… twisting his arm around under his jacket, he patted the small of his back until his hand met…

Oh, Jesus.

That was a gun.

A really big gun.

Like, borderline anti-vehicular big.

Okay, that did it. This was too weird, too scary, too much to handle at once. Screw personal inventory. He needed to get someplace safe to wrap his head around this. He had to figure out where he was. Phone! Phone, phone… he frantically slapped his pockets, trying to ignore what sounded like brass clinking against itself until her felt a familiar rectangular shape. His fingers shaking, he fished it out of his pocket, heart racing at the prospect of understanding…

The screen had a hole in it large enough to fit his thumb. It didn’t stop with the screen, either. The back of the phone had blistered outward and ruptured from the inside, the metal flaring out like a sharp-tipped flower.

Okay, fuck it. He’d seen a few people in the bar while he was doing the 50-yard stumble. He’d just have to get past the awkwardness and ask someone where the hell he was. The date would be easy enough to figure out, assuming he hadn’t somehow forgotten years and missed the death of print media. A small part of him made a note to chuckle later about relying on a cliché in real life, but humor was being supplanted by panic. It would have to wait.

Evan zipped the hoodie back up and left the stall, noticing as he moved that there were other weird weight distributions around his person. He wondered how many other instruments of personal unpleasantness he had strapped to himself, and hoped that none of them were too explosive.

Hesitantly, Evan stepped out of the restroom and surveyed the bar. Boy, he'd really picked a winner. The place was too depressing to even be called a dive. Dives, at least, had character; this place had a patina. The few patrons at the tables looked even worse than he did, but public day-drinking tended to do that to people. None of them looked particularly friendly or like the kind inclined to help a man who looked like he'd fought his way out of a mental ward.

There were two improvements on the scenery standing at the bar, however. Two young women stood with their backs to him, but even from an impaired perspective they stood out amongst the grime and human detritus. Some nearly-necrotized part of his brain noted that they were both very shapely, but this concern was immediately drowned in the rising tide of stress. Better to just get it over with.

Evan quietly walked up to the bar, making sure to stand several feet away from the women, and cleared his throat softly. "Excuse me, ladies, but--"

The hot asphalt didn't help the pain in his face. He groaned and rolled onto his side, then groaned louder from the dull pain in his ribs.

It had happened so quickly. Before he’d even finished half the sentence, the closer of the two women had yanked a bottle off the bar and smashed it across his temple with such speed and ferocity that he was barely able to even start to flinch. The hurricane force of the blow had knocked him against the bar and, disoriented as he was, he’d been unable to keep his footing. He heard the bartender yell as he hit the floor, and then he heard the second woman say something about how he’d grabbed her friend’s ass, and then he heard stomping footsteps as two of the staff approached to drag him roughly to the door, toss him out into the parking lot, and kick him, field goal-style, several times apiece. And then, while he struggled to breathe, the second girl had come out and rifled through his wallet, saying something sarcastic about ‘picking up the tab’ or something.

He was not going to forget those faces. Anger had temporarily overtaken fear and confusion and seared every detail he’d had time to notice into his brain.

“Well. I think that’s a vendetta,” he half-wheezed to himself as he pushed himself up on his knuckles and got to his knees. God, it was hot. He could see heat radiating off the pavement. It was starting to burn his knees through his pants, so he forced himself upward into something resembling standing. It didn’t quite take the first time and he stumbled sideways, catching himself on something metallic that scorched his fingers.

“Mother fu—huh. How about that.”

A newspaper vending box. Rusted and with what looked like a couple of spot-welded bullet holes in it, but still stocked. Evan crouched down for a better look.

The Arizona Daily Star. Tucson? What the hell? Last he remembered, he was bumming around campgrounds in Southeast Washington. It had been sort of boring, but it was peaceful. He’d started working on a few personal projects during the relative stability; It was the closest to normal life he’d had since January. Sure, it’d been barely above freezing most of the time, but he’d felt content. What made him give that up?

His eyes fell on the date and his heart seemed to pump backwards for a moment. May 11th. The last date-specific thing he could remember was from mid-February; he’d taken advantage of some cynical bar owner’s “singles awareness day” Valentine’s Day promotion and sat in the place for six straight hours, working on his laptop and drinking cheap liquor, surrounded by a strange mix of melancholy and manic patrons. Nothing particularly interesting happened, but the specific date stuck in his head.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

At least two months. A sizable fraction of a year, lost. Three states away. Lots of injuries. Weird clothes. Above-average personal armament. There were so many angles to the situation that he couldn’t even begin to try to put them together. Everything felt like clouds floating around the periphery of his brain. If he tried to focus on one, it would disperse and the others would engulf him, distracting him with suppositions, fears, and half-mad theories. He bounced around inside his own head in a numb and ultimately futile attempt to make sense of things, until he realized that he’d been standing almost completely still in the parking lot with a vacant expression on his face for several minutes. He looked like a homeless lobotomized mummy. He was probably lucky nobody had called the cops on him yet.

All the confusion and mystery finally gave way to absolute panic. Evan’s hands and lips were starting to shake, badly. His pulse started to race and he started to have trouble catching his breath. Desperately, frantically, he swung his head from side to side, trying to scan the parking lot while the color seemed to drain from his vision. Security, privacy, familiarity; these things felt so far removed from the situation that they seemed almost abstract.

Gotta get away

find somewhere to hide

to think

After what felt like an eternity, he finally saw it, a beacon of hope and safety in his rapidly darkening world. Heaven was a dented, dusty 2007 Gulf Stream Endura.

Home.

Evan tried to run, but confusion had suddenly become exhaustion and all he could manage was a determined stagger. He imagined he probably looked stone drunk, which was fine with him. It’d stop people getting curious.

His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get his keys out of his pockets while walking, and could barely hold them when he stopped at the door. Trying to get the key into the lock felt like he was drowning, just inches away from the surface…

When the key finally slid into the lock, he gasped with relief so hard that he almost choked. He flung the door open and fell inside, pulling it closed as he collapsed. The relief was instant.

The smell was what brought him around the most. It had overtones of things that he didn’t remember being there, but underneath it all, it had the same subtle odor of lived-in familiarity. Facedown on the tile, he breathed in deeply, savoring even the disgusting undertones that came from having one’s nose pressed to the linoleum. This was an ugly paradise, but he’d take it.

After an interminable amount of time, Evan rolled onto his back. Sheer relief seemed to have made the pain from his earlier beating subside, as it was significantly less agonizing than his earlier rolling-over in the parking lot. It was surprisingly painless to push himself up and collapse onto the couch.

Evan slowly gazed around the interior of what he’d come to call home (and apparently had continued to for several weeks), hoping he could take in any changes in a calm, reserved manner and not immediately jump to pants-pissing panic again.

The first thing he noticed was a laptop, sitting on the kitchen counter. It was one he didn’t recognize, but that was no big deal, he tended to cycle through them really fast in the course of his normal routines. Nothing scary there. What was concerning was the piece of paper reading “EVAN: WATCH ME. PASSWORD IS THE DATE”, written in his own angular handwriting, taped to the screen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several more signs taped up around the cabin. He was instinctively trying to focus on and read them, but he forced himself back to the floor. With some adjusting, he was able to swing the carpeted panel up on a hinge, revealing a compartment below.

All of that can wait.

The lock’s keypad beeped as it opened, and Evan swung the safe open, ignoring the unfamiliar and frankly frightening objects that now occupied the space.

Only one thing matters right now.

He leaned down until he was flat on the floor, his arm extended all the way down into the safe. Things clanked, clinked, clicked, shifted, and on one frightening occasion, beeped twice, but Evan’s hand eventually closed around what he was looking for: a rough canvas bag.

Out came the bag, closed went the lid. Open came the bag, in went the hand.

And out came a weathered, worn, well-loved stuffed toy giraffe. Evan ran his fingers across the fur, shortened and decolored with time, and looked into its dull, scuffed glass eyes before hugging the toy to his chest as though he were trying to push it into himself. Still holding it, he turned himself to lie down on the couch, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

“It’s been one hell of a day, Mr. Nex.”

#Ugly Man Chronicles #Ugly Man Chronicles: Reignition #my writing #chapter

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