Disclaimer ~ I don't own HP.
A/N please R&R I've reloaded this chapter to get rid of the mistakes and to stop my punctuation appearing like @ and $ and E!! Very annoying!!
Chapter one ~ Boy.
A small boy sat huddled in the corner of the grotty kitchen. His sore knees touching the dirty, cold tiles, as his grubby hands covered his eyes. His fingers split apart so he could just peer through the gap and watch as his parents argued.
At one point they had been sitting down talking, but whenever they talked it led to an argument. Now they were both standing, a thin distraught woman with the air of nothing to lose, and the large angry man. Both arguing their point, both reluctant to let the other win.
The woman was losing, she always did, she had nothing to defend herself against his fists, nothing to fight back with expect words, and they did little damage.
But there came a time when she no longer cared what happened, she did it to protect her son, the small shaking figure hiding in the corner.
The shouting continued, the man raised his fist, but still the woman refused to submit. This only angered him more, and the small boy was forced to watch as his father beat his mother. Silent tears fell down his thin grubby cheeks, wetting his hands as he held them up to cover his eyes.
Then she started screaming, his hands moved swiftly to his ears but it did not block out the screeches of his mother. They were imprinted on his memory.
They had stopped at last, his mother had flopped down into a chair, the man was watching her menacingly. He smirked at her as he headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" she barked, suddenly.
He laughed.
"To spend some money no doubt, money we don't have."
He scowled and made to go back into the room, but thought better of it. He reached the back door, but the huddle in the near corner caught his attention. He kicked it angrily as he left.
His mother jumped up and ran to her son. But the boy didn't want her; he didn't want any one. He ran past her, threw open the kitchen door, raced into the hall and up the stairs to his small, dirty room.
His mother didn't follow, she returned to the table and opened a bottle of muggle vodka and started drinking. Her husband wouldn't be back for hours yet, and when he did return, if he could find his way home, he would be drunk out of his head.
The small boy cried himself to sleep upstairs. He was use to this, he lived it everyday of his life, but being use to something doesn't make it hurt any less. This was it, the life of Severus Snape, and he was stuck with it.
A/N please R&R I've reloaded this chapter to get rid of the mistakes and to stop my punctuation appearing like @ and $ and E!! Very annoying!!
Chapter one ~ Boy.
A small boy sat huddled in the corner of the grotty kitchen. His sore knees touching the dirty, cold tiles, as his grubby hands covered his eyes. His fingers split apart so he could just peer through the gap and watch as his parents argued.
At one point they had been sitting down talking, but whenever they talked it led to an argument. Now they were both standing, a thin distraught woman with the air of nothing to lose, and the large angry man. Both arguing their point, both reluctant to let the other win.
The woman was losing, she always did, she had nothing to defend herself against his fists, nothing to fight back with expect words, and they did little damage.
But there came a time when she no longer cared what happened, she did it to protect her son, the small shaking figure hiding in the corner.
The shouting continued, the man raised his fist, but still the woman refused to submit. This only angered him more, and the small boy was forced to watch as his father beat his mother. Silent tears fell down his thin grubby cheeks, wetting his hands as he held them up to cover his eyes.
Then she started screaming, his hands moved swiftly to his ears but it did not block out the screeches of his mother. They were imprinted on his memory.
They had stopped at last, his mother had flopped down into a chair, the man was watching her menacingly. He smirked at her as he headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" she barked, suddenly.
He laughed.
"To spend some money no doubt, money we don't have."
He scowled and made to go back into the room, but thought better of it. He reached the back door, but the huddle in the near corner caught his attention. He kicked it angrily as he left.
His mother jumped up and ran to her son. But the boy didn't want her; he didn't want any one. He ran past her, threw open the kitchen door, raced into the hall and up the stairs to his small, dirty room.
His mother didn't follow, she returned to the table and opened a bottle of muggle vodka and started drinking. Her husband wouldn't be back for hours yet, and when he did return, if he could find his way home, he would be drunk out of his head.
The small boy cried himself to sleep upstairs. He was use to this, he lived it everyday of his life, but being use to something doesn't make it hurt any less. This was it, the life of Severus Snape, and he was stuck with it.