When Severus Snape reached the age of two, she single-handedly ruined everything in one fell swoop.

Little black eyes – so dark they seemed to stain rather than burn whatever they gazed at – widened in fear and alarm. Tiny, fragile hands covered delicate ears, clamping tightly to block out the whole wide world that crashed into pieces around her. Short and stark black hair blew violently, wispy strands of baby hair tumbled and whipped against her swallow and pasty white face. She fell into a crouch, trying to bury her thin face into bony knees, into an illusion of safety.

Accidental magic generated a strong gust of wind from nowhere, making glass bottles of booze burst against walls and stained them with smelly brown whiskey. Objects trembled and rattled ominously on shelves. Tobias Snape bellowed in furious terror, like an enraged bull confronted with the sight of the overwhelming unknown. Eileen Snape, once a Prince but one no longer after having abdicated her right as heiress in disgrace, was frozen between joy and frustration. All her efforts of the past four and a half years were now fruitless as her sole child proved to be as magical as her.

Severus Snape was two years old, a witch, and a wrecking ball smashing the tentative equilibrium of the Snape household into smithereens.

(and even though Severus is only two, she knows what she wants, knows who's right and who's wrong; she has her own opinions, ideas, and principles. And though it may have sounded odd coming from a toddler, Severus felt that she was more a person than a child, felt that she was completely independent of others)

Severus Snape hadn't always been Severus Snape.

Once, she had been a woman of considerable strength (at least outwardly, for she was always weak on the inside), independent and aloof. Lonely. A woman who had sunk into the cold and unforgiving depths of Lake Superior on Michigan coasts, a coward running from her failures and mistakes.

Now, she was the son of a drunkard and an ex-witch, with a weak body and a weak mind. Her insides were poisoned with negativity and riddle with self-doubt and reproach. An adult in a child's body. Misplaced. Shame and guilt are her daily mantra, making her heart beat heavily in her chest like a broken-down bass drum, tired and worn.

She's now four years old, and looked every bit of her twenty-six years. The house, when once upon a time had been stilted but lively, was now tense and stifling, dangerous. Before her father would take his frustrations out by complaining and ranting and rough sex by the end of the night with her mother.

(she could remember hearing creaking springs and the occasional bang of something hard against the wall, screaming moans and breathless grunts, and little wails that trailed off at the end followed by soft murmurs and cries. The Severus from Before thought the house had been haunted and cowered in his tiny crib in the closet, clutching his ragged pillow close like a stuffed animal...

Now, she merely counts the time away until the more violent and pain-filled sounds end.

Some nights there's no sound at all, but the stuttering snores and muffled crying and her apprehensive breathing;

she never sleeps those nights)

Now... Now that he knows the truth of what she and her mother are, they are the ones he takes his frustrations out on. There's always this sense of fear behind his eyes, terror of the unknown, and that's why she always stares into the murky dark recesses of his gaze, into the blotchy and shadowed gaze where the fear hides, and pities him. Tobias is always the first to look away before he hurts her once again under the veneer of 'discipline', usually with the brush used to clean the radiators (even though it's not like she can control her magic when it decides to act up, not when she's upset and especially not when she's being yelled at). Before he banishes her to the corner to stand facing the yellowed-with-age-and-chipping white walls for hours until he forgets she exists.

(It's hard to hate what you are. Hard, but not impossible. Do it often enough, long enough, and it becomes easy to lose yourself in hazy resentment and clouded bitterness.

She hates him as much as she hated herself, for they are one and the same: afraid.)

Severus is six years old, and she should be in school. She knows this from foggy memories of a life in a time long ago (or a time that had yet to pass in the late future, depending on your perspective), but maybe things are different in the sixties, she doesn't know.

(once upon a time, she would have loved to live in the sixties, had adored the music and fashion, but now that she's here, she isn't able to relish it as she would have, had circumstances been different, and that realization sits heavy in her stomach like cold stones. She knows there will be many more things that she will miss out on beyond childhood and normal schooling, many more important things likely, but that doesn't make the bitter pills of resentment any easier to swallow)

She's only six years old, when she walks up to her mother and asks in a subdued tone, "Mum, what makes you stay here with him and me? You could leave if you wanted to; you could disappear." Her voice barely dares to whisper, checking in an almost paranoid manner over her shoulder like he might be there with a snarl and a heavy hand, listening, "You could use magic and never be found again where he can touch you, like a ghost."

Severus doesn't know what made her suggest this, as if she didn't know her mother likely considered it every night for the past three and a half years. She doesn't know why she offered the idea, as if she were giving the other woman her permission to make her escape. She doesn't know how it sounded more like a plea than a suggestion, as if she wasn't asking her mother to stay like most children, but asking instead if her mother would abscond the both of them away from the angry man that hurts them.

She didn't know that when she asked that very question that her mother had something stir inside of her heart, as if waiting six very long years for the question to be asked, so that she could remember that there were other options...

(Eileen steals away to Diagon Alley one afternoon, anxiously glancing around as she rents at the Owl Post to have a letter to be delivered. It was for the best, she reassured herself, Mum will understand. Afterwards, going to Gringotts, she reactivated an old account that had been put on hold almost eight years ago and withdrew some money to make several important purchases. As soon as she got a response, she would come back to update some paperwork, but for now she had done what she could for herself and her child)

It is just past ten thirty-eight in the morning, Tobias is long gone to work at the textile factory and her mother had left once more to disappear for a few hours to "take care of business" as she does every Thursday. It's always mesmerizing to see the lightning green flames that spoke of magic, and having her mother be able to stick her head in the fire without fear of burning, entering and exiting as she pleased (as long as Tobias wasn't present). That had been nine minutes ago, and now it was just Severus in the household for anywhere between twenty minutes to three hours and fifty-six minutes. Or perhaps shorter or longer than that, one could never be sure other than that her mother was always home before her husband.

Severus had until five to study anything magical related before they had to be given back to her mother so they could be hidden into the charmed trunk; which, despite its size, Tobias never seemed to find it. Severus didn't feel the need to question this, already knowing the only answer: the very same thing that had been prevalent in this life for over five years now since she was two.

The throughout last year though, things seemed to be changing for the better in some ways, ever since she had dredged up the courage to ask her mother why she stayed. There was no more stagnation and wallowing, Severus was simply too busy in the day and too exhausted at night. Her mother, while not one to dote or be affectionate, seemed to dethaw the more time went on, a sense of camaraderie between mother and child trapped in non-ideal circumstances. They were in the same boat, and so relied on each other in their own way. Severus provided Eileen a solid reminder of what she had now committed to; and Eileen provided Severus security that things would change and that, eventually, the two of them would leave Spinner's End and Tobias behind them.

While the "man of the house" hadn't changed any, while their treatment only seemed to gradually worsen, it was bearable. Severus could endured getting the belt when her magic accidentally announced its existence when her father was home, could ignore Tobias's intimidation tactics and hateful words, could grow accustomed to the distinct burning stench of alcohol and cigarettes in the air, and tolerate the occasion sliver of broken glass piercing her feet in the living room if she wasn't careful. She could withstand it all, because she knew it was only temporary. Only until she got her Hogwarts letter and could leave this place behind as an official member of wizarding society, she was sure of it.

So, Severus kept herself busy in the meantime. And while she hadn't been learning spells as she didn't have her own wand yet and her mother's wand "wasn't to be touched", she learned about magical creatures, plants, and their properties. Later, if there was time before five, her mother would quiz her on what she retained, and then add more information about the particular ingredient in question. Severus rather liked this book she used, the one by Zygmunt Budge. It read less like a textbook or an encyclopedia, and more like a bibliography detailing Master Budge's adventures and exploits in finding said ingredients and how certain aspects of them would interact with each other — often through trial and error as accounted in the book. He often would give a comprehensive record of its known history, origins, and miscellaneous facts concerning it, followed with a true-to-life sketch. Each entry would take up two, sometimes three, pages. Considering how massive the book was (with a whopping nineteen-inch long spine, twelve-inch width, and 969 pages with very small font), Severus only read one or two entries a day to every other day, carefully scrawling or underlining notes in the margins, reviewing what she learned.

When she was finished with her studying, or even just taking a break, Severus would read history texts about the magical world, Hogwarts, and Wizarding society. She also perused some level one Charms books out of curiosity, despite not being able to practice. There's just so much she wants to know, and so little time to do it. No matter how much her mother assures Severus that she won't be left behind, the fear of failure and dismissal can't be shaken. Fear of her housemates, of her professors, of other witches and wizards finding her lacking is too strong to shake. No matter how hard she tries to fool herself or act differently, the fear remains; so Severus aims to make herself indispensable, the very best like no witch before her ever was.

At least, in one field. While others can be content in being knowledgeable in all fields but the master of none, Severus will master something and make herself irreplaceable. She can't be gotten rid of or forgotten because they need her. No one can make her feel powerless or defenseless again. She will have the upperhand. She will be the one they beg mercy and scraps of acknowledgment from. She will be the one feared and respected and envied for her security and invulnerability.

(Severus is only seven years old, and she already knows that in a magical pureblood-driven society that knowledge is power... and she plans to have a monopoly)

Severus is eight.

The small candles flicker in the dark, casting shadows over Severus's face as she gazes up at her mother in surprise. Her mother didn't bake, period. Yet, there was a simple loaf of poppy seed bread being offered; no glaze or frosting, of course. Her mother gives no answer, no words, just stares back in a rare soft focus, eyes gentle but seeming to lift information directly from her daughter's head just as they always had since two years prior. Studying Severus with a quiet fascination and curiosity as she imparts all she knows about the magical world to her child.

Wax drips onto her fingers and Severus breaks eye contact, blowing out the candles with a startled exhale. The two of them breathe in the darkness, house practically empty except for the two of them.

"You are old enough now to try," came the quiet murmur. "You may not have a wand, but you don't truly need it to know how to create the potions themselves. It is an art form, an exacting craft that requires your full attention, patience, and wit. Follow the directions to the letter, know the ingredients and how to prepare them absolutely, with thorough and complete regard to every detail. One such potioneer who does so can brew glory in all its splendor, bottle the luck of gods, and even stopper death into a tiny potent vial — it's true magic, no matter what anyone says. Learn it, and learn it well, because it's something no one can take from you once you master it; half-blood or not, muggleborn or not. Potionmaking can only be mastered by those who respect and devote themselves to it... If you do this much, Severus, no one can touch you."

There's another drop of wax on her finger, but it does little to distract her, still listening intently. Floorboards creak and shift, with a wave of a wand the stove is lit and a small tarnished metal cauldron trundles itself noisily out of the cupboard where the pots and pans were contained. But neither of them are scared Tobias will hear them and come to find out the source of the noise, not when two hours prior Eileen had slipped a dose of sleeping draught in his bottle of cheap whiskey. He wouldn't be waking up for quite a while, more than enough time to erase the evidence.

Bringing into view a ratty book with the spine worn out and the green leather splitting, the very same that had been bought for a discount price sometime prior, her mother set it on the counter and opened it to one of the first pages past the introduction, tapping at the recipe for a cure of boils. "We'll work on this one first," the older witch murmured. "Tonight, I will walk you through the step-by-step process and ask you questions about the ingredients and how they interact with each other. It's time we tested your knowledge on all you have been studying since we started."

(neither of them knew at the time, but this was the beginning of the end, that everything Severus learned here would be altering everything once more like back when she was two... whether the change would be good or not was left to be seen)

When she can, Severus slips outside to run barefoot through Spinner's End, avoiding broken glass and stinking puddles of questionable origin. She skirts down narrow wynds (which were basically lanes between houses, similar to an alley but more like a very narrow street) heading towards the textile mill that continuous puffs out hot steam from its chimney and the Cokeworth river that ran nearby, as dingy and murky as ever. Past that on the other side of a grimy brick bridge was Miltown Row where there were more (albeit, nicer) brick residences. If one were to follow the river's edge on that side, they would come across a dismal little park that contained only two swings, a rickety metal slide, and tilted merry-go-round that give the impression it was about to fall over. After that, there only lay a threadbare clearing that made way for some railroad tracks where scraggly woods marked the outer boundary of Cokeworth proper.

Despite the swollen and bloated appearance of the river itself, Severus liked to creep along the bank's tall grass and catch small creatures like frogs and minnows and the occasional white clawed crayfish, her slacks rolled up to the knees and her mother's old button-up blouse rolled up to the elbows. Leaving the top two buttons undone and tying the bottom of the shirt to fit her more snuggly around her midriff made her feel less like she was swimming in the fabric, adding a more personal and feminine touch. And while she couldn't help her hair beside's tying it back with a fraying strap of leather — considering the effect of leaning over the cauldron for sometimes hours at a time — or perpetually borderline-starved look; this helped her look less mismatched, less neglected with her appearance.

Still, she made sure to generally keep to herself, if not outright avoiding the few children sporadically dotted around Spinner's End, Miltown Row, and other nearby terraces; wary and scornful of them as they seemed so alien to her now. Foreign. Severus isn't the type to look for trouble if she can help it, instead she skirted around the edges, all but a ghost. Cold and shallow as a winter creek and generally uninterested in the ongoings of mere muggles. There was no point to befriend them, as they were of no use to her.

This particular day, the sun is out and peeking shyly through the clouds. It warms the cold and dingy town, and people find excuses to be outside, basking in the warmth. However, it is a Tuesday afternoon, and most children are still in school if it can be afforded and most adults are at work, so Cokeworth is rather deserted at the moment. Severus takes the opportunity to visit the park and idly perched on swing set, relishing the good weather. It might have even been in the twenties (or seventies, if one were to use Fahrenheit). In the distance a crow caws and Severus kicks out her feet to swing back and forth, lost in a daydream about luminous fields of pink puffapods filled with golden shiny beans and their potential uses as a magical variant of leavening baking soda or a thickening corn starch.

She hears them before she spots them, a brunette and a redheaded pair of girls walking towards the park. She watches them out of the corner of her eye but otherwise continues as she was on the swing. The little red-haired girl continues to walk towards the park unhaltingly, expression open and cheerful, arms swaying by her sides in time with her steps. The other seemed to falter at the sight of Severus's stark-looking figure being unexpectedly present, her face screwing up in annoyance and her lips pursing. Severus knew a brewing confrontation when she spotted one and it honestly wasn't worth the headache to argue, even one-sidedly, with the local muggles over something so mundane as a swing.

With little warning or hesitation, Severus let go of the chains and went flying off her seat in a smooth arc, her descent quick and sure as her feet dug heavy imprints into the sand from her solid landing. With a wriggle of her toes and a leisurely stretch, the little witch went to go investigate the merry-go-round and see just how tilted it really was, ignoring the highly curious green eyes aimed at her back. Instead, as she pokes around the thick wood disk and absently runs her hands along metal railings, Severus broods about what she had eavesdropped the other night when she should have been sound asleep:

"So, it's done now?" Eileen asked hurriedly, leaning closer to the fireplace that spewed green fire and housed a head made of green flame. "It must be if you are risking a floo-call at this time of night when he's home..."

"For the most part," the face confirmed slowly, lips pursing. "But you realize how hard it is to push this paperwork through now after all these years? You were the last of the Prince line and disappeared so abruptly... Many presume you dead, whether through foulplay or otherwise doesn't much matter, and will want you to remain that way through any means. I have gotten the boy's through easily enough as his face is already on the tapestry and has yet to be registered with the Ministry. As long as we managed to 'claim' him before his eleventh birthday, no one will be any the wiser. You, on the other hand..."

"... I never did thank you for keeping it quiet."

The face grimaced, "You shouldn't be thanking me for trying to keep our dirty laundry to ourselves, Leenie. Especially not when we are... were... ashamed of your actions."

"I know, I know," Eileen placated quietly. "I made a mistake, trying to use a lo—"

"It wasn't the potion itself!" The face interrupted beseechingly, "It was who you were attempting to use it on! And then to cover it up by disappearing completely and slumming it with the muggles? Leenie —"

"I know, all right!" The younger witch spat defensively before sighing. "I know. I made my mistakes, but Severus doesn't need to suffer the consequences from them, not with all the unsavory things happening right now with the muggleborns and half-bloods. As long as he's better than what they would ever expect from 'his kind', they won't suspect otherwise."

"Yes," the image of the older witch agreed wistfully. "Yes, there is that, as long as he is as talented as you say he is, no one will question it."

It was hard to ignore how much sense it all made with her mother being so secretive of where she disappeared to on Thursdays for varying amounts of time. And why her mother was even married to Tobias in the first place: she was a magical criminal on the run and now that Severus was proven to be magical too and due to receive a Hogwarts letter in the next two years, Eileen's cover would be blown if they weren't careful... Or maybe she was a part of something similar to the witness protection program because of some scandal involving magical royalty? Likely the latter, actually, if the witch in the fireplace was truthful about there being paperwork, implying a government position of some kind, a prince, and having to 'disappear'. It sounded like it would be easy for Severus to do so, as she had no paperwork filed for herself yet, but her mother on the other hand..?

Maybe Eileen was going to have to get a whole new identity created. Would that mean Severus would too, or would they have to go their own separate ways to —

An alarm shriek of, "Lily, no!", shattered her attention and Severus whipped around to see the little red-haired girl let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flew into the air, quite literally flew, launching herself skyward. Severus could only watch in horror as the little red-haired girl hurtled past the edges of the sandpit and towards the hard ground, the brunette screaming and crying out in the background, and the young witch thought for sure that the other would crumpled on the playground asphalt, seriously injured or even killed. She could only watch in mute fear, body going numb and cold sweat sliding down her neck, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly as she waited for the inevitable descent...

But it didn't happen. The little red-haired girl seemed to only go higher and higher, as if she was actually flying! Glided above Severus's head through the air, staying far longer than what should be possible, and gently landed on top the slide far too lightly, which she went down with a great shout of laughter, face filled with pure elation. Severus could only stare, shocked as the little red-haired girl — Lily — looked back at her with a great big smile on her face, clearly proud.

"What did you do, Lily?! Mummy told you not to!" The brunette stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the sand, her feet sinking in and pushing a small pile of dirt in front of her toes, then leapt up, hands on her hips. The older girl's eyes glanced over to Severus, face clearly scared and nervous. "Mummy said you weren't allowed, and that you shouldn't show others!"

"But I'm fine," Lily protested, still giggling slightly before turning big innocent green eyes towards Severus who was glancing between the two of them in mute shock. "And, Tuney, I'm sure he doesn't mind... Do you?"

Numbly, Severus shook her head, voice hoarse, "N-No."

(because Severus didn't mind, now that she knew she wasn't the only young witch in Cokeworth; because once she thought about it, it was silly to assume that her and her mother were the only ones to use magic and that they might be the only magical family here, that she would be alone until she was eleven in two more years and got her letter and climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express in the fall like a muggle child climbs aboard a bus... as shocked as she was, Severus was amazed and pleased with her fellow witch, and was more determined to make friends with the little red-haired girl than figuring out what truth her mother was hiding)

part one: fin

A/N: So, this is a fanfic loosely based off of Enbi's one-shot TAAWYWLF that was featured in "Enbi's OG Fics" (/11880492/1/Enbi-s-OG-fics).

She was gracious enough to let me adopt the concept and do what I will with it... And I plan to derail canon in its entirety.

You'll probably notice that this Severus appears to be much softer than what Enbi's was or maybe even Canon Snape... This will be subject to change in the next chapter or so where everything will pick up pace and then go sideways lol

And yes, there's a reason why I'll be continuously be referring to Lily as "the little red-haired girl", it's a reference to Charles Schultz's character known as "the Little Red-Haired Girl". Lily fulfills much the same role, if you consider Severus a sort of Charlie Brown like figure.

In any case, I got a vague outline and no idea how far I'll go with this lol