When Darkness Falls

Book One: The Story of Severus Snape

Chapter 1

His eyes opened in the darkness, his breath coming quick as his limbs felt at once both too heavy to move and too energized to keep still. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, shocks sparking beneath his skin as his muscles twitched. The desire to run pulsed through him, incessant and maddening, until he found himself sitting up in his bed, his small hands gripping the bedclothes on either side of his knees. His legs hung over the side of the bed, his feet not near enough to touch the floor and he thought once again about his muggle father's words. There are monsters under the bed that eat little boys who don't behave.

Wasn't it a parent's job to protect? He was certain he'd overheard a man say that to their child the last time he and his mother had gone into town to buy food. Had he heard wrong? Had he been mistaken? He looked down at the floor as he tried to determine what had woken him, why he was so filled with terror. He jerked as he looked up at the door, the sound faint but unmistakable and his heart felt to be fighting its way out of his chest. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He knew that much; knew that this wasn't normal and that this wasn't a good thing.

The sound came again and he flinched, his hands tightening on the bedclothes. He shook his head, tears coming to his eyes as he squeezed them tightly closed, hoping desperately to shut out the ugly truth of the world he lived in. His mother was a witch, though she barely practiced. She only ever did things for him, never around his father. A grimace twisted his lips, hate and fear storming inside the five year-old's heart. He wanted to run from the room. He wanted to yell at his father, defend his mother, but he couldn't. He wasn't big enough, wasn't near strong enough, and the little bit of magic he could do was pitiful in comparison to what was needed.

How many times had he heard his mother whisper the words needed to glamour away the bruises his father left on her arms and face? How many times had he watched her heal the injuries that couldn't be solved by a simple glamour? The sound of her bones being set right was grating, like nails on a chalkboard, and all too familiar. The sound came again, this time followed by her voice crying out and he jumped from his bed. He reached for the door knob, a single touch burning his hand and he hissed as he jumped back. His palm was red, the color and pain receding almost immediately and he looked up at the words that appeared in the air.

I can't let him hurt you, Severus. I love you too much for that.

The words faded in seconds and he felt a jolt of hate shoot through him. In that moment he hated his mother, not because she had locked him in his room, but because she wouldn't defend herself. She had the power to keep him from harm, the power to heal her wounds and make things materialize out of thin air. She could use that same power to keep her muggle husband from beating her, but she wouldn't and he didn't understand why.

Shaking his head as he moved to his closet, he quickly donned a pair of black trousers and a thick white shirt. The garment was still a bit too big on him, the sleeves falling down over his hands, and he rolled them up before moving to the window. He hated living here. This part of town seemed always on the verge of falling down and there weren't even any trees to aid his escape. Opening the window, he shut out the sounds behind him, focusing his mind as the book he'd pilfered from his mother's closet had taught him to. Reaching his hand outside the window, he placed his palm flat against the dingy bricks, dampened from the rain earlier that day.

"Stairs," Severus whispered, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Give me stairs."

Slightly rounded almond-shaped eyes opened wide as he watched the wall seemed to almost flutter before his eyes. He kept his hand in place, his dark onyx gaze kept careful watch as the bricks moved and formed alternating hand holds for him to grip and step on. Moving one leg from beneath him and wincing at the biting feel of the imprint left behind by the window sill, Severus carefully eased out of the window. Gripping the window ledge with one hand as he gained purchase on the bricks with his feet, he began the slow climb down to the ground below. He watched the bricks above him disappear the further down he moved and once he was standing on the ground, they recessed into the wall completely. He'd have to cast the spell once more to climb back into his window.

Slipping in a wet patch and falling to the hard ground, the sound of the crash from inside the house commanded his attention. Moving without thought, he ran to the nearest window and looked inside. He had always been locked in his room before and it was with a kind of morbid curiosity that he watched his father grab hold of his mother and throw her across the room. Her clothing was torn, her face bruised and nose bloodied. He wanted so much to yell at her and tell her to fight, but he knew she wouldn't and he didn't understand why. What good did it serve to allow that man to hit her?

Severus shook his head as he backpedaled from the window and fell to sit on the cold pavement of the alley behind their row house. He had seen his father pin his mother to the kitchen floor, the man seeming to hold her down and somehow his five year old brain discovered a truth he wished he had never known. His face fell into his hands as he leaned forward and rocked in his seat upon the cold hard ground. Even at his young age he somehow knew what his father was doing and knew it wasn't the first time. He hadn't been wanted at all, had he? He was nothing more than a consequence.

Severus screamed into his hands then, windows shattering throughout the house. He scrambled to his feet as the shattered glass landed near him and ran through the alley behind the houses until he reached the end of the street. He turned and ran in the direction of the open park, his mind focused on the tree with the hollow trunk. He didn't know why the thought of it still living and producing leaves invaded his mind just then, but it did and he couldn't let go of it. He didn't understand why a hollowed out tree could still live. By all rights the very fact that it was hollow meant that it was dead, didn't it? Small hands swiped across his eyes as he stumbled and fell.

It was in that moment that Severus Snape learned the lesson that would haunt him for the rest of his life, a lesson he never wanted to learn. Life wasn't fair and sometimes a person really was just a mistake. Sniffling back his tears, he looked up at the night sky in hopes of some kind of explanation, or perhaps it was salvation he was looking for instead. Neither would be found and he turned his eyes back down to the earth around him. The tree he had been running to was less than ten meters from him and he rose to his knees, feeling so incredibly tired as he stumbled to the only sanctuary he'd ever known.

The giant tree seemed to be welcoming him in, the leaves rustling on their branches as he stepped inside the hollow opening. It was a strange kind of comfort, how large the inside of the hollowed out tree was and he frowned as he felt something strange. There was a new scent in this place, something that hadn't been here before. It smelled like sandalwood and cherries. Had someone else found his tree? There was no evidence of anyone else having been here, no things left behind, but there was a feeling.

Closing his eyes as he sat down on the packed earth floor, he whispered the words he had found in one of his mother's spell books. Opening his eyes, he watched as a large pillow appeared before him, a heavy blanket with it and he moved slowly as he laid down. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, he kicked off his shoes and rested his head and torso on the pillow, hugging it to him as he sought comfort. The blanket seemed to tighten around him, the pillow swelling beneath him and it felt in some manner as though he were being hugged.

It was with a whimper that they began and he turned his face into the pillow as the sobs broke from within him. He was deaf to the sound of his own tears, the broken keening sounding in the night like some kind of tortured spirit left to haunt the world without rest or peace. He beat one small fist against the pillow angrily, wanting desperately to lash out at someone, but had no target for the emotions storming within him. It wasn't fair. The only thing he'd ever wanted in life and he would never have it. He just wanted to be loved.

Sniffling and wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve, Severus turned his head, pressing his damp cheek against the tearstained pillow. Blinking in the darkness, he remained motionless as his tears exhausted him and he was finally granted the peacefulness of a dreamless sleep.

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It was two days before Severus found the will to move from under the safety of his conjured blanket. Sitting up from his reclined position, he frowned when his eyes caught an unusual gleam on the hollowed out wall of the tree. He would've sworn it looked like a handprint, a bit smaller than his and the fingers had been a bit narrower, too. He moved on his hands and knees, crawling toward the handprint that he could barely see and lifted his hand up to trace it with his finger. He followed the outline of the print curiously before letting his fingertip drift inside the shape.

His lips parted in a silent gasp as he pulled his hand back from the print sharply. He looked down at his hand wondering if the strange tingling sensation had left any kind of mark, but found none. He didn't understand the feeling, it felt…good. The strange sensation that had left his fingers tingling was now working its way up his fingers and through his hand. He felt…warm. Lifting his hand back to the print, he stretched out his hand and placed his palm over the print.

He closed his eyes as he left his hand in place, his breath coming faster as his eyes stung. He didn't know who had been in his tree, but whoever it was had left him behind something beautiful. The tingle had spread throughout his entire body, the tickle of energy making him feel warm, safe and wanted. This…was this what it felt like to be loved? He kept his hand pressed against the tree as he leaned forward and touched his forehead to the back of his hand. He'd never felt this warmth before, this sense of peace and care.

The tears stinging behind his eyes made their way down his cheeks as he sat there holding onto the wall of the hollowed out tree. All of the things he had seen in his five years, all of the darkness that had weighed down his heart seemed to be lifting from him. All of this because of a handprint, he thought because someone had left part of themselves behind for him. He understood more about magic than most people, he knew that to leave a mark like this didn't come from a spell, it came from the heart.

"Who are you?" Severus asked aloud as he looked up and pulled his hand back from the smooth wall of the tree. "Who are you to leave such a mark? You're no muggle that's for sure."

He knew that he had to go home, he couldn't stay here forever. Standing up slowly, he looked up and shook his head. He still didn't understand how the tree had life. The tree was large enough that he could summon his father's armchair and still have room to move around inside. It was also high enough that he was certain a full grown man would have no problem standing up straight inside. How was this tree still living? Looking back at the wall, his lips pulled up to one side as he looked at the hand print. Did this person know what they had done? Did they have any idea what they'd given him?

Moving back to kneel in front of it, he lifted his left hand, placing it next to the right-handed print and closed his eyes. He focused on the place where his hand met the wall. He thought of what he would want this person to feel from his handprint, his gratitude for what they had left behind. What he left instead was something he never meant for anyone to know. While his mind was focused, his heart was not, his loneliness and pain filling him to the brim. The palm of his hand glowed slightly, a momentary red stain of light left behind before it was gone in the blink of an eye. He would never know that it was his pain he had left on the wall for the other person to find.

Taking in a deep breath, Severus stood from his kneeling position and walked out of his secret hideaway. He looked back inside the hollow tree, reluctant to leave the sanctuary it provided him, and made certain that any evidence of his having been there was gone. His spirits fell as a great rumbling sounded above him and he looked up to see the blue sky darken to grey. He'd have to run if he wanted to get home without getting caught in the rain. The problem was, he didn't want to go home. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to hear his mother being beaten, to hear her cry. It was harder still to be the ignored one, the person that was only ever spoken to when something was wrong.

He moved away from the tree that felt more like a home to him than the four walls and roof he lived under. He knew he didn't have a choice of whether or not to run home, the rain already beginning to drip down on him and he sighed as he fisted his hands. His feet moved under him quickly, the heels of his shoes slipping in the wet grass as he ran. By the time he reached his house on Spinner's End his clothing was soaked, the rain cold enough to leave him shivering. The first thing he noticed was that the lights in the parlor were on. The second thing he noticed was that his mother and father seemed to be talking to each other amicably.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he walked further into the house, his clothes dripping on the hardwood and threadbare carpeting as he went. Neither of his parents took any notice of him, even when he stood in front of them and he wondered what was wrong with them. Moving past them to the stairs, he traveled up to his bedroom and found that his mother had removed the magical lock from his door. He stepped inside quietly, still nervous about the abnormal behavior of his parents and went into the bathroom to change.

He took a shower, being careful not to take too long under the hot water. He didn't know when or if his parents would respond to him being home, but his biggest fear wasn't the 'when' or the 'if', it was the 'how'. He was dried and dressed by the time either of his parents had moved from downstairs. His mother was the first one up the stairs, followed closely by his father, but neither one of them acted as though they saw him. He frowned and called out to his mother, but she never responded. It was as though they couldn't see or hear him, like he didn't exist.

He knew that he wasn't dead or any kind of ghost, he thought he certainly would have remembered that. So why were his parents acting so strange? His stomach growled; the reminder of not having eaten for two days clawing at him and he gave up his curiosity as he went in search of food instead. The fresh socks adorning his small feet weren't enough to keep him warm, even with the sweater and sleep pants he was now dressed in. Stepping into the kitchen as he rubbed his arms against the cold, he opened the refrigerator and stopped.

The shelves were empty. He opened the drawers and the covers on the small compartments on the door, but everything was empty. There had been food filling this fridge the day he'd left so where had it all gone? He closed the appliance and opened the top freezer, but it was the same way – completely empty. He moved next to the cabinets, the one that always held the cold cereals, but that was empty as well. Where was all the food? He was so hungry, but there wasn't a thing to eat, not even bread for toast.

He opened each and every drawer and cupboard only to find nothing. There was no fruit, no snacks, not even a packet of soup crackers. Swallowing thickly as tears stung at his eyes, he turned and made his way back up to his room. There was no way that all the food could simply be gone which meant that he wasn't able to see it. The only person who had the power and knowledge to do something like that was his mother, but he couldn't understand why she would. What would it gain either of his parents to hide the food from him?

He moved back up the stairs slowly, desperately tired and achingly hungry. Closing his bedroom door, he moved to his bed and climbed between the blankets as he laid down on his side. The softness of his bed and the warmth of the blanket were no comfort to him, the ache in his head and heart taking that away. His stomach growled again, the sound almost vicious and he wrapped his arms around himself as he pulled his knees to his chest. All he wanted was a normal family, a family that loved him. Was that too much to ask?

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Severus didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he found himself startled awake as he was being thrown from his bed. Long fingers were curled around his sweater as severely as hawk's talons, and he feared the rage in his father's face. The man stunk of whiskey and something else, something darker and almost spiced. He looked at his father, the man's dark eyes the same as his own, and tried to understand the slurred angry words he was speaking. Spittle came from the man's mouth as Severus was thrown the air and the child cried out as his back hit the wall of his bedroom before he fell to the floor.

"What is this?!" the man shouted, the words broken and slurred together. "I told that bitch you weren't to be fed and here I find an apple in your room?" Tobias Snape shook the red fruit in his hand before throwing it into the hall, a dull thump heard as the apple hit the wall and fell to the floor. "If you don't want to li-live here, you d-don't eat!" he shouted, hiccupping through the last few words before falling in a heap to the ground.

Severus backed away quickly when his father fell, the man's hooked nose landing near his socked feet, and stood frozen as he stared at him. This wasn't the first time he'd seen his father pass out from too much drink, but there had been times in the past when he'd moved only to find the man wasn't truly asleep. He waited with baited breath as he watched his father and finally moved when he began to snore. Stepping carefully over the man's body, he ran down the hallway to his parents' bedroom in search of his mother, but she wasn't there.

Running back down the hall, Severus came to a stop just before the open door of his bedroom and skirted the edge of wall slowly as he did his best to keep far away from his passed out father. Once he was passed his bedroom, he began running once more and made his way downstairs as he searched for his mother. He found her in the small parlor, the books lining the shelves old and worn. These were their books, his and his mother's, books of magic and spells and potions. He stepped toward the fireplace slowly; the chair his mother was seated in turned away from him, and moved around to see her face.

She was sleeping, he found or at least it looked like she was. She was still breathing, he could see that, but there was a large bruise on her face with a weeping cut just below her left eye. She'd been hit again. H's small hands balled into fists and he thought about going back upstairs and returning the beating to his father, but knew he'd never survive the encounter if he did. He left his mother sleeping in the chair and went to the bookshelf across the room. His father thought that these were books of literature and romance, two things he detested, but hated less than magic. Lifting his hand as high as he could, he reached out for the book that was covered in aged black leather and pulled it down off the shelf.

The title was etched in Latin and though he had begun to learn a few words, he didn't know what the words on the front of the book meant. Opening the cover, he looked inside and found himself fascinated by the first paragraph of the page. 'The Dark Arts are many and varied. They can change as easily as the winds in a storm or be as steady and unmoving as the mountains of the earth. You can learn to defend yourself against your enemies, ensnare the minds of those who oppose you, or even curse those who would seek to do you harm.'

He read the lines a second and a third time as his mind turned the words over with curiosity. Did this mean that he could learn to protect his mother? Did learning the Dark Arts mean he would never have to be afraid again? He turned around swiftly when the book was snatched out of his hands and found his mother standing behind him. She had glamoured away the marks from her face, but he found that if he narrowed his eyes and focused, he could almost see them.

"You're not old enough for this, Severus," she cautioned him. "The Dark Arts are called dark for a reason."

"You spelled the kitchen," he accused, his young face held in a stubborn expression.

"He threatened to hurt you if I didn't," she told him and watched his skin flush with anger. "Severus…"

"You have all this power, but you won't use it!" he yelled at her and watched as she flicked her wand at the door, the aged wood closing tight.

"I can't!" she told him desperately and knelt down to look into his eyes. "Severus, if I use magic against your father they will take me away!" she told him and gripped his arms tight as she shook him. "Do you understand?"

"No, I don't!" he squirmed out of her grip. "Who would take you away?"

"The Ministry of Magic," she told him, scrubbing her hands over her face and wincing at her hidden injury. "Severus, it is forbidden for a witch or wizard to use magic on a muggle even – and especially – if they're your family. I would be taken away to Azkaban Prison and you would never see me again."

"Then why can't we just leave him?!" Severus asked her as angry and frustrated tears filled his eyes.

"Where would we go? I have no money and no place in the muggle world," she shook her head as she stepped to the shelves and replaced the book.

"Your family!" Severus insisted and watched as his mother's shoulders fell in defeat. "Why can't we go see them? I've never even met them."

"Sev…" She sighed heavily as she fell to sit on the floor and opened her arms to her son. "We can't go to them."

"Why not?" he asked as he let her pull him down to sit in her lap.

"When I met your father, he was a very different man and I fell in love with him. Our family – the Prince family, has been pureblood for longer than most other families have. My father forbade the relationship, but when I announced we were getting married, he disowned me. There's no one to go to, Severus. You and me, that's all either of us have," she told him sadly.

"What if he kills you?" Severus asked, his voice trembling.

"I hope we never have to find out," she answered. "I'm going to start teaching you the tricks to see through the charms I've put in place. It's hard work and it takes a lot of focus. We'll only have time when your father is working at the mill."

"Unless they sack him," he grumbled.

"Severus," she warned his attitude.

"He's always drinking," he protested her chastisement.

"I know," she sighed heavily. "Just do what you can to stay out of his way. Don't talk back to him or make him angry."

"I breathe and he gets angry," he mumbled and his mother sighed.

"Go," she moved him off her lap. "Walk five paces that way and then sit down facing me."

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Severus, do as I say," she commanded and watched as he followed her instruction. "Now, close your eyes and empty your mind. The only thing I want you to think about is not being seen."

"Not being seen?" he arched a brow in question.

"It's the invisible game," she told him. "Just close your eyes and empty your mind."

Severus took in a deep breath, his anger still pumping through him, and closed his eyes. It wasn't easy to gain control of his emotions. It certainly wasn't something a normal five year old would even have practice at doing, but he did. Focusing on the hollow tree he found sanctuary in, Severus let the thought of it fill his mind. He felt his anger leave him slowly, the sight and feel of tree filling his mind and leaving him with a sense of peace. He understood what his mother wanted him to do, but no matter how easy a task it sounded, it was a difficult process. He had to let each emotion into himself in order to gain control of it and the hardest of them was the resentment he felt toward his parents.

His father was a violent man, a person who disliked everything if only because he couldn't have the power he desired. He wanted to strike back at the man for all of the pain he'd put his mother through and opened his eyes when he heard the woman cry out in surprise. The book of Dark Arts was in her hands again, though it was clear to him that she hadn't moved from where she sat on the floor. Her startled gaze turned to him with a displeased moue, her bow arching in silent reprimand. Nodding once as he closed his eyes again, Severus took in a deep breath and released it slowly through his nose as he pushed all manner of thought away.

What was it she had told him? His furrowed brow relaxed as he remembered her instruction and focused his mind on being unseen. It wasn't as simple as muggle children would believe it to be. He couldn't simply put his hands over his eyes and say 'you can't see me'. No, Severus understood what his mother hadn't told him, he had to focus on the idea that his father couldn't see him. In order to be unseen, he would have to alter one of two things: the physical world around him or his muggle father's perception of the world.

Eileen watched as her son sat in front of her, his brows furrowed in concentration. She knew that Severus was smart, knew that he was much like her and her mother when it came to magic. Sweat began to bead on his brow and she wondered if he was perhaps too young to practice this kind of magic when the air around him began to ripple. She watched him with pride, her breath held as his skin looked to be disappearing before her eyes. She smiled as she stared at the spot where she knew him to be sitting and saw nothing but empty space. Turning her head to the side, she could still see him from the corner of her eyes and laughed with delight.

"Severus, that's good. That's very good," she praised him and watched as he instantly reappeared before her. "Headache?" she asked when he whimpered and pressed the heels of his hands to his temples.

"It feels like my head is splitting apart," he told her as his eyes drooped tiredly.

"It will get easier with time," she promised him and hugged him close. "Alright, that's enough for tonight. Now, go to the table by the lamp and open the drawer," she instructed him and watched him rise unsteadily to his feet.

"Ginger creams?" Severus asked as he pulled the prepackaged Fox's biscuits from the drawer.

"Consider it a treat," she told him softly. "Why don't we sleep in here tonight, Severus and in the morning I'll teach you how to see through concealment charms."

"Why don't you just take it down?" he asked and saw her sigh.

"Someday you'll understand, Severus," she said softly as she conjured a pile of pillows and blankets, "that having power is sometimes worse than having none at all."

He didn't understand her meaning, believing those with magic to be far better than muggles. Frowning as he watched her lay down carefully and hold her hand out for him to join her, he felt as though there was so much that she wasn't telling him. Letting her tuck him into the blankets next to her, Severus laid his head down and closed his eyes, exhaustion taking him immediately into the world of dreams. Eileen looked down on her son, brushing a lock of his dark hair back from his face and pursed her lips as tears filled her eyes.

He was too young to understand that having power meant you couldn't always use that power. Leaning down to kiss her son's forehead, she smiled sadly. It was worse still when someone knew you had that power, but didn't understand its limitations and wanted you to do the impossible. How many times had Tobias commanded her to make them rich with a flick of her wand and how many times had he beaten her for telling him that it couldn't be done? When she had revealed that she was a witch to them on their first wedding anniversary, Tobias had gotten the idea into his mind that he would no longer have to work at all.

Her husband's belief that she could simply conjure them money or create all the things that they could want from magic had driven him to gamble away the small fortune she had been able to squander away. When they were broke and his job at the firm he'd been with before he'd known of her magic had refused to hire him back, he had been forced to take a job at the textile mill. It was worse that they had been forced out of the home they could no longer afford and into this one. The drinking had started shortly after they'd moved into their house on Spinner's End and the violence had come shortly thereafter.

"I pray that you never know the pain of falling in love with a muggle, Severus," she whispered to her sleeping son. "I hope you are able to make a better life for yourself than the one you have now."