Snape's Memories

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The house was battered and old, the tan paint nearly peeled all off leaving it a plain grey. It was hard to tell that it was actually inhabited now.

The front door creaked when opened, nearly all of the floorboards were loose or creaky. There was a musty smell, along with the fumes of alcohol, weeks worth of ash from cigarettes.

Scattered across the dingy carpet were cigarette butts, several scorch marks, alcohol and vomit stained the carpet and the most of the lights were in need of replacing.

It was dark when the boy awoke. He always got up before the sun, the darkness helping him to hide. He slowly reached for a pair of trousers and an ill-fitting and rather wrinkled shirt. He gave both a cursory sniff before deciding they were good enough and pulling both on.

Barefoot he made his way to a box, rummaging inside for a moment before finding a pair of socks. He pulled them on and found trainers hidden in the closet which he carried instead of wearing them.

Quickly and silently he made his way down the stairs and tried desperately not to wake his father. He halted in front of the doorway leading into the tiny, nearly bare kitchen. He paused to listen for the usual loud, raspy snores of his father before creeping in.

He was careful to take only small amounts of food, though if his father was in a drunken stupor (as he often was), he was in luck that his father might not notice the food was missing.

He knew quite well that his mother was busy, most likely at her second job that she had taken on several months earlier to help support the family. Father's drinking more like, he thought bitterly as he helped himself to a slice of bread and chanced a few slices of cheese.

He would likely pay for it later, but his stomach grumbled and he forced down his fear.

His mother would likely be gone until midnight, she often got up at 5am and he did not see her until nearly midnight, sometimes not at all. He hoped that she would be home, even though it did little to quell his father's temper at this point.

Placing the slices of cheese on the bread, he folded it in half to make a meager sandwich and made his way across the living room floor to the back door. He hesitated, turning to look at his father who was inevitably passed out cold on the couch.

Despite the distance between them, he could smell the stale beer, see the drool that pasted his father's face to the couch cushion. The young boy wrinkled his nose at the stench and the sight of the broken beer bottles that littered the floor and made a hasty escape.

He fled to the only safe place he knew, a hill nearly a quarter mile away through a patch of trees behind his house. One half of the hill (the side facing his house) wasn't visible to the muggle playground on the other side. But he often walked up the hill to sit by a tree and watch longingly as the muggles brought their families to play.

He would watch silently as mothers pushed their children on the swings, or other children drawing with chalk on the ground. He never joined in or let them see he was there. He was careful like that.

He crammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and sat down in his usual spot. There was a slight hollow in the tree and he liked to use it to watch the other children without being noticed.

Around mid-day, he had grown tired of his usual tinkering. He would tear up grass, arrange pebbles into a small circle and occasionally (when the park was entirely empty), take up his place on a lonely swing.

He didn't waste his time on any of the slides, monkeybars or the rock wall, choosing to try to simply escape the noise at his own house.

Now he was in his hiding spot, pretending to sort through a deck of playing cards. The deck was missing a queen of hearts and many of the cards were torn slightly and bent from use. But he continued the task of setting out a small game he'd invented himself.

He was half thinking of leaving once a blonde lady left with her two year old son, who he noted was shrieking, so it couldn't be much longer until the mother realized it was futile and would give up and go home.

He was just shoving the cards in his pocket when he noticed two young girls running up the street towards the playground. With a sigh, he sat back down and debated going down to play on his usual swing anyway.

They didn't appear to have an adult with them, which made him slightly hopeful.

The pair had slightly similar features, he wondered if they were siblings. One had red hair and green eyes, the other had longer blonde hair and brown eyes.

"Come on, Tuney!" shouted the redhead eagerly making for the swings. My swing, he thought with a slight bitterness, though he had to admit it was not really his. "Mum said we have to be back in an hour. Come on, come on!"

"Lily, wait up!" the other girl was a bit slower. "Mummy said we have to stay together!"

He perked up a bit when the blonde girl ran to take her place on the swings next to her sister. The girl couldn't really be named Tuney, could she? he wondered, staring at the two in puzzlement.

"Come on, hurry up!" the redhead replied. Lily, was her name if he heard right.

He knew better than to question any of the rules set by his father at a very young age. Even now at only nine years old, he cleared the empty beer bottles out, taking the trash out and cleaning dishes. He knew any protest would only lead to an argument or a hit around the head.

"You, get me another beer!" his father shouted from the other room. The boy sighed, pushing down his annoyance as he did what he was told. His skin crawled with the injustice, but he merely opened the worn refrigerator to fetch another beer for his father.

He brought it to the couch, setting it on his father's tv tray without a word. "About all you're good for," his father snapped as a way of thanks, popping off the lid and taking a long drink.

The boy winced internally, making his way hastily back to the sink and finishing the dishes. If he was fast enough he might make it upstairs before his father noticed.

No such luck. Even with the television blaring, his father hadn't forgotten he was there. No, he wasn't drunk enough for that...yet.

"Get in here, boy!" he shuffled slowly into the room, keeping his back to the kitchen and wishing he could melt into the ground about then.

"You, where were you today?" his father spat, glaring at him with those black eyes that he'd inherited. He was surprised his father even noticed his absence.

"Out," he said in a low voice, staring at the floor and avoiding eye contact. Don't look up, don't meet his eyes, it'll only make it worse. Don't look up...he continued the mantra inside of his head.

"I said where were you, answer me!" his father shouted.

He struggled not to flinch. "The woods," he answered quietly.

"You're not allowed out without my or your mother's permission," his father stated, his eyes boring holes into his son's.

"All right," he gritted his teeth against any argument he might have made.

"Now get out of my sight," his father snapped, taking another swig of his beer and ignoring his son's existence. Severus walked swiftly away, not wanting to be struck again.

He was awakened at nearly eleven o' clock when his door opened. He shot out of bed so fast he nearly tripped over his blankets, horror overtaking him as he was sure it was his father, probably in a drunken rage.

Instead, there stood his mother. She had the same thin, narrowed face, pale skin made only paler by the dark circles under her eyes. She gave him a very weak, weary sort of smile and sat down on the edge of his bed. She beckoned him over and motioned for him to sit.

He looked at her silently and sat down cautiously. "Is father angry again?" he blurted out, unable to help himself.

He could see the flicker of fear in her eyes at his words, but she quickly covered it up and sighed. "No, my love. I came to talk to you."

"Oh," he tried to stamp down his fear, though it may have still been evident in his shaking hands. "About what?"

"Well," she began with a small smile. "Your birthday is coming up. You'll be eleven."

At this, he allowed himself to brighten a bit. "I'll get my Hogwarts letter, right?"

"Of course, love, why wouldn't you?" his mother smoothened his hair slightly.

He shrugged, unable to think of an answer he felt he could actually share with her. "Tell me about Hogwarts again, mother."

She smiled a bit at this. "All right, but you must sleep, my prince." He pulled himself back into his bed and pulled his covers up to his chin. Looking at her expectantly.

"Well, my prince," she began. He allowed himself a small smile. She only called him that on special occasions, and never when father was around. "Hogwarts is a school of magic. As you know, it was built hundreds of years ago by the four founders."

He lay back, relaxing slightly. He'd heard this story many times.

"They created four different houses for the different people. They were Godric Gryffindor for those who thought courage and bravery were the most valuable traits. Rowena Ravenclaw, who believed intelligence was the most valuable. Helga Hufflepuff who was the kindest and most loyal of all. But the last founder was the most cunning and sly, he was-"

"Salazar Slytherin!" the young boy couldn't contain himself any longer. "You always say he's the best because he values natural talent and purebloods like you."

"Yes. I was sorted into Slytherin in my years at Hogwarts. When you are eleven, my young prince, you too will go to Hogwarts and learn magic like I did," she sounded wistful.

"Do you miss doing magic?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He gulped. His mother didn't like to talk of her magic because it made her sad. He didn't want her to be sad. But he couldn't help it.

She looked a bit taken aback by his boldness, but she answered all the same. "Yes. Sometimes. But you know that your father has forbade me to use magic in the house."

He tilted his head to one side. "Must you always do what father says?"

She sighed, patted his head slightly and smiled sadly. "Yes, and so should you," she advised. "Now you must go to sleep, my little prince." She kissed his forehead lightly and walked to the doorway.

She looked back once. "Good night, sleep well my prince."

On his birthday, it started as an ordinary day. He awoke before the sun did, shivering slightly as he reached for his socks. Unlike most wizards, he wore only black socks and found he did not care very much for bright colors.

He found the right sock had a large hole, his big toe was peeking through and he pulled it off to find a different sock to replace it. After much fumbling around he extracted a pair and pulled on a sock.

He pulled on one of his overly large shirts and studied his reflection. He shoved his hands in his pockets, noting that now both pockets had large holes in them rendering them basically useless.

"Perfect," he grumbled sarcastically, staring at himself in barely concealed disgust. All he saw was an overly large nose on a narrow face, sallow skin, a sulky expression and two black eyes staring back at himself.

He made his way downstairs, pausing when he heard raised voices. He sighed. It was another usual day. In fact, he could scarcely remember when his parents hadn't fought on a nearly daily basis.

They often fought about magic, the wizarding world, him, the muggle politics, the muggle world, him, his father's drinking, his mother's jobs, him, oh and him. It seemed to be his father's favorite topic.

"So you're saying that this-this letter you say, is so HE can go to school?" his father's voice pierced the early morning.

"Yes," he hadn't heard his mother sound so firm about something in a long while.

"To learn how to become like you?" he could hear the sneer in his father's voice without having to see the pair.

When was the last time they all ate as a family? Or went somewhere to just be together? He couldn't remember and thought he must have been small when they last went on any kind of family outing. His mother hardly ever gave him an answer when he asked about it.

"In a manner of speaking," his mother's voice was softer now. She was weakening, Severus thought to himself.

"Eileen," he heard his father's voice soften in a way it usually didn't. His father was loud, brash, violent even. But soft? He couldn't recall any time his father hadn't raised his voice at either his son or his wife.

"Yes, Tobias?" his mother sounded exasperated, almost harassed now.

"You and I both know that boy doesn't need schooling any more than I need a job," the man's voice was rising again.

"He's my son and I'll decide what's best for him," his mother replied firmly.

"Meaning I'm not the boy's father?" his father was fired up and drunk no doubt, he thought to himself.

"Of course you are," his mother conceded gently. "But it concerns my world and I think it best that I handle things in...this aspect," she trailed off uncertainly.

There was a loud smack of flesh hitting flesh and his mother's cry of pain.

He ran down the stairs, fighting back his fear and running into their little kitchen. His father was facing off with his mother who was clutching her face in one hand, and a letter in the other.

"Here, boy," his father thrust the letter so close to his face that his nose was nearly touching it. "Take it and get out of my sight!"

He did not need telling twice, with one backwards glance at his mother who motioned him to leave, he raced upstairs with his heart pounding as he held his Hogwarts letter.

"I'll allow it," he heard his father snap. "But you owe me."

Despite the fear he was battling, he was also thrilled. He was going to Hogwarts!

He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that told him his mother would pay dearly for her stand, brave as it was.

Lily sat at his side, watching the water rush past. Her bright green eyes sparkling the way they always did when he talked about magic.

"You're sure?" Lily asked, her voice tentative. "My birthday is only a week! What if my letter doesn't come?"

"Of course it will," he replied with confidence. "Mine did." He did not mention the circumstances in which he received his letter though.

"You're lucky, Sev," she said rather wistfully, staring at him with those wide green eyes.

"Maybe," he said, though he silently doubted that. Her family loved her no matter what, she could be a witch and use her magic freely.

"Sev?" she asked quietly.

"Hm?" he tilted his head to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me about Hogwarts again, please," she pleaded.

He sighed in faux irritation. "Well..." he began his story the way his mother always did, watching her eyes light up in excitement. "It's a castle, a huge one, like the kinds Kings and Queens live in in your tales," he smiled. "On a shimmering lake, one that has merpeople and a giant squid. Magical creatures, majestic compared to the dolphins and whales muggles have..."

"Since you mentioned your birthday," she said a little sheepishly as he finished the story. "I, erm, got you a gift." She pulled out a paper package from a hiding place behind a tree and held it out to him.

He peeled the paper off carefully, folding it into a small square and then setting it aside to look at the box. He opened it to find a thick leather book. A potions book.

He stared at her in shock. "Where, where did you find this?" he asked in amazement.

"An old antique shop my mum took me to," Lily admitted. "I don't think the shop keeper knew what it was. He said it was rubbish and was quite happy to sell it for only a few pounds."

"Thank you," he managed, pushing away the cover and pouring over the information.

"Sev? What about my parents? They don't know anything about witches or wizards," she sounded concerned.

"Don't worry, someone will come to explain things," he replied confidently. "Your parents are muggles so someone from the school will tell them how things work."

"Does it matter that my parents are muggles?" she asked tentatively. "Will I be far behind in school?"

"Of course not," he answered. "I can teach you some of what I know," he offered. "This book should help. When you get your new books I'll be able to teach you some from those too."

"Here, these are old, but they'll do," his mother pressed several books into his hands.

"Mum, how will I get to the station? Will father even allow it?" he asked, letting his fears come out in the safety of the darkness.

"I will find a way," his mother answered firmly. "You must go."

He wanted to learn, so that he could be stronger than her. So he could protect her. He could see the fear gleaming in her eyes, even in the darkness.

"What about the rest of my things?" he asked, unfolding the letter that was now soft and worn from him re-reading it so many times.

Eileen looked at him and tucked his blanket close to him. "We'll see. I'll try to get us out this Friday when your father goes drinking out, he always does these days."

The trip was hurried, but he was pleased all the same to be going to Hogwarts. His mother threw things into his second hand cauldron a bit haphazardly, but Severus found he didn't mind too much. He was finding the new world to be fascinating after living like a muggle half his life and only seeing magical things a couple of times.

His father, luckily for both him and Eileen, found his way back home past midnight, long after Elieen had tucked Severus's books away and packed his trunk with the best she could find.

He met her in their place, beneath the tree that sat on a little hill, just behind the bush that covered the trees roots and hid him from sight of muggles who came to let their children play.

They chatted for long hours, Lily wondering aloud about Hogwarts, and him listening or else adding a comment.

One day, when he was tearing pieces of grass and tying them into knots, she pipped up. "Sev, do you want to come to mine for dinner? My parents won't mind."

He hesitated. He was in no state to be seen by others. He was wearing a pair of dark trousers and a large grey shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame. But her eyes pleaded with him and he found himself agreeing immediately to her request. "Sure."

"All right, come on," she stood up and motioned for him to follow her.

He found himself stumbling over his own feet and words. "Er, Lily, don't you think I should change into something smart, or-"

She stood and looked him over thoroughly. "No, you look fine. Just," she reached up and ran a hand through his hair. The simple action sent his heart pounding and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. "There," she said in satisfaction.

Meeting her parents was awkward to say the least. Lily's mother stepped out to greet him with a smile, her own red hair cut into a short, sensible style, her blue eyes taking in the boy in front of her.

"Lily, who is this?" she asked, her voice was not accusing, simply curious. Severus took in her appearance and tried to make himself inconspicuous.

"This is Severus," Lily announced, her eyes darting to her friend and then to her mum.

"Hello Severus," the woman gave a genuine smile and held out her hand.

He took it and forced himself to smile through his nerves,"Hello Mrs. Evans," he said politely.

She laughed lightly. "Oh please, call me Rose."

He smiled in response, a more genuine smile, "Rose," he repeated.

"Mum! Who is at the door?" he heard the sharp voice and winced internally. A blonde head poked its way around the door, where her sharp brown eyes honed in on him immediately. A scowl crossed her lips instantly.

"Oh. It's you," she said coldly. Severus opened his mouth to respond but Rose cut him off.

"Petunia, I expect you to be more gracious to our guests in the future," she said firmly to her eldest daughter. "Lily's friend is being very polite, come help me with setting the table."

"Yes, mum," Petunia gave him another withering glare before following her mother in, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Darling? We have guests," she called. A man emerged from the sitting room, he had short brown hair, a mustache, and green eyes that nearly matched his daughter's behind a pair of spectacles.

"Oh, who is this?" Mr. Evans asked, his gaze welcoming.

"This is Severus, Lily's friend," Rose replied as Petunia returned from the kitchen carrying plates and silverware. She sent him a cold look as she began to set the table, but pursed her lips and said nothing.

He found the house to be very warm and welcoming. The couches were solid brown, the coffee table was large and hold a few empty cups, the curtains were tasteful, he sat down hesitantly next to Lily.

"Dinner is almost ready, dear," Rose addressed him kindly. "Do you like fish and chips?"

Severus nodded, mouth watering at the smell already. "Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"It's Rose," the woman corrected once again with a smile as she made her way back to the kitchen.

"Who are your parents?" Mr. Evans asked conversationally.

Severus cleared his throat nervously. "Tobias and Eileen Snape."

Mr. Evans gave him a long, cynical look. "Ah, Snape?" he gave a grim sort of smile. "I've met your father a few times." There was a crease between Mr. Evans's eyebrows and he pressed his lips together.

Severus did not respond. The look in Mr. Evans's eyes told him everything he needed to know. That Mr. Evans knew that there was a danger around Tobias Snape.

Mr. Evans opened his mouth as though to say more, but was interrupted by his wife who poked her head out of the kitchen and announced, "Dinner's ready."

Lily rose, pulling him away from her father and showing him a place to sit at the table, across from her. Her mother sat down at his left, next to her husband who took his place at the head of the table. This had Petunia sitting across from Rose, eyeing Severus suspiciously.

Severus watched Lily help herself and took her example, taking two pieces of fish and serving himself a side of chips. "Thank you, Mrs.-Rose," he corrected himself quickly.

The breading on the fish was light and flaky, better than anything his own mother had cooked. The chips were delicious dipped in ketchup and some of the tartar sauce.

"It's delicious, Rose," he commented, catching a glare from Petunia as Rose smiled. "Thank you, Severus."

"You're welcome to come over for dinner any time, Severus," Mr. Evans said as he cut apart his own fish.

"Thank you, sir," Severus held back a smile.

"Lily's told us all about you," Rose commented.

"Has she?" Severus nearly choked on his chips in shock. Lily had told her parents about him?

"Yes. You're going to Hogwarts with her, aren't you?" Mr. Evans was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and fascination.

"Yes, sir," Severus couldn't hold back a smile.

"Did you grow up in a wizarding family?" Rose asked, her question innocent enough, but there she didn't seem to know his parents well at all.

"Kind of," he replied shortly, not elaborating.

Her blue eyes were kind, but showed concern when he looked away. Petunia frowned at the mention of Hogwarts and quickly turned to her mother. "Can I be excused?" she asked sharply.

Severus finished his fish and started on the rest of his chips.

Rose looked slightly puzzled. "Yes, dear." She turned her attention back to Severus. "I don't believe I've ever met your mother," she addressed Severus, who bit his lip with concern.

Mr. Evans cleared his throat. "Now Rose, I don't think that's necessary, do you?" he gave her a rather pointed look that didn't go unnoticed by Severus.

"Oh," Rose replied softly, catching the warning look. "Well, in that case, would you like any more to eat?" she offered.

He shook his head quickly. "No, thank you, Rose. It was very good, but I think I'm full."

It wasn't unusual, he supposed, as he climbed out of bed that morning, hearing the shouts downstairs.

He was wearing the same outfit as yesterday, only bothering to pull on a new pair of socks before slipping through the front door. He glanced down at his clothes. A rumpled shirt, with a stain on it, and his trousers had a tear in the knee and he brushed himself off to look less untidy.

He knew he must appear awful, shivering on the porch of the Evans' family early in the morning, when the sun was just peeking out from the trees. The sunlight did not help his complexion, he thought as he tried to push his hair behind his ears.

He knocked on the door less hesitantly than he had the first time. Rose answered it, her apron covered in flour and her hands held a rolling pin in one hand. Her smile was genuine, but he saw immediate concern in her eyes, although she did not say anything.

"Severus," she greeted warmly. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm good, Rose," he glanced past her to see Mr. Evans glancing at his wife curiously, then smiling at him. "Is Lily here?"

"Of course, come inside," she gestured, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'll fetch her for you. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I guess," he stepped inside and glanced down the hall to where he knew Lily's room was.

"You're looking a bit peaky," Rose said as she rummaged in the tea holder, pulling out a few tea bags. "What would you like, dear, Earl Grey, Black or Camomile?"

"Earl Grey, please," he had been using his manners much more since he'd been coming over to the Evans' house.

Lily walked out of her room, wearing muggle attire, tying her hair up into a knot. She smiled when she saw him and slid into a seat next to him, accepting a cup of her favorite tea, adding honey and cinnamon to it.

"Why are you here so early?" she asked, stirring the honey in with a spoon.

He avoided her eyes, staring at his the light orange liquid. "They're arguing."

Her eyes studied him carefully for a long moment as though expecting him to burst into angry tears. But he knew that she knew him better than that. He wasn't one for tears. "Again?" she asked gently. He nodded and then gave her a half shrug as though to say, what can you do?

As a distraction he watched Mrs. Evans as she busied herself making tarts for pudding that night. Rose noticed his gaze and opened up a packet of biscuits that she set on the counter in front of him.

Lily took one, even though she wasn't hungry, dunking it in her tea twice before crunching on the biscuit.

Severus chose to fiddle with the wrapper. He didn't miss the flash of pity he saw in Mr. Evans's eyes as he meandered into the kitchen to take a cup of tea for himself.

The day the train would take him to Hogwarts, Severus still crawled out of bed slowly. His mother was downstairs waiting for him, taking his trunk and other things from him.

He handed them to her and the pair hurried out to the road. Once there, his mother fixed his hair as best she could and the two walked briskly down to the end of the road, past Lily's house which had its lights on.

Severus considered stopping, telling his mother that Lily's parents would take him with them, but he wanted his mother to be with him on this day. Though he also was sorely aware of what it would cost her.

He could already see in the dim lighting of the street lamp that glittered above the bruise that was forming under her eye, and the cut on her lip.

"Mother, what will father do when he finds out?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't look at him. "I'll manage."

The bus, a muggle one, pulled up to the stop and the pair got on. His mother paid in quarters and they chose a seat at the back.

"Hush now," she said softly, taking her seat and taking a paper to read over the map. "Our stop is in about half an hour. Try to get some sleep."

They got off the bus at the train station and his mother entered first, carrying the trunks and entering the platform 9 3/4 rather quickly. She looked ruffled slightly and stood back to allow him to take in the scene.

"We're a bit early," his mother said, glancing at the clock. "But I've got to get back home to him." She kissed him on his cheek, which he allowed, and handed him something in a paper towel.

"It's your lunch. Have a good year," she murmured. Then softer, for only his ears, "My little prince."

He climbed onto the train even though it was early, finding himself a compartment and hoisting them onto a shelf. He glanced back out the window to see his mother gazing at him and waving once before she made her way back through the barrier.

Then she was gone.

He was alone.