A/N: To my readers, this is only prologue to a story that my friend; princessserena69, is developing. I am posting this with her expressed permission so that we; yes, we, may know what readers may think of this story. Please help her and myself out by commenting once reading, the more I see, and she sees and the more requests for this story to continue, it will be posted. If not, we will not be offended, we are simply curious. She has never posted on here yet has an account and I am trying to build her confidence as she is very talented in writing but believes she is not, all encouragement and criticism are welcoming but anything along the 'hatred' will be accepted but not without a few words in return. Thank you readers and I do hope you enjoy...

~S~

Prologue

Fifteen years have passed since the fateful battle on Hogwarts' ancient grounds, much has changed in the dawn of a new age. New professors, new rules, and a statue of the once great Albus Dumbledore stands center within the new courtyard, welcoming all those, new and old. At the base is a memorialized slate with engraved names of all the fallen during the second war, the hollowed grounds forever a reminder of what was and what will be.

Professor Minerva McGonagall has taken her well deserved title of headmistress of the famous school, in respects to the last headmaster's wishes. A name was etched into the memorial sight that did not belong, one who was presumed dead. Severus Snape; Potion's Master, ex Death Eater turned anti-hero, had survived the viciously savage attack to his vocal cords courtesy of one blasted giant snake named Nagini. He had immediately gone into hiding, making sure that no one had decided to go looking for him.

His return was silent, no welcoming committee or parties, still a preferably better option than what he might have expected. He was dealt mercy from Minerva for the simple fact that her nature was and is to question everything, but coming back had its price. The Ministry of Magic stayed out and away from Minerva's decisions, for fear of retribution from any remaining war survivors. Her conditions for Severus's return were simple, two teaching positions and he would be allowed back within the place he had called home for nearly thirty years. He would also be subjected or forced in his opinion, to take an assistant, a person Severus never imagined seeing again in his life or death.

Severus Snape knows how to keep secrets, always has, and the one he has shouldered for the past eleven years, is finally lifted as he puts what faith he has left into Minerva. The two had never been too close but when grit came down to grind, they both had the same values, protect the students at all cost.

For eleven years Severus had hid, ran when needed and finally settled in the one place that bore the sins of all those before it. The land still seemed eerily haunting but the house that once stood as the beacon of evil, was now destroyed and replaced by a more sinister mansion. During his time in the silent place, he had found himself constantly rethinking of the past and all the could have gone wrong, been wrong, and many changes he would have made if possible. Nights were a fit of visual nightmares within his reality, whether eyes were closed or open, and many months passed as Severus came well versed in being a creature of the night, more so than he ever was before.

It was for this reason that one night during the fall an odd sound reached his hearing; even after all the years, Severus's skills as a spy have yet to fade from the very being of himself. What he had found would still make him nauseous to this very day...

Drawing his wand, Severus inches forward, a door is ajar and spilling the softest of orange-ish light into the darkness swallowed hallway. He is already starting to have sweat claim his skin on his forehead as his right hand grips his ebony wand so tightly that his pale knuckles grow ghostly white, if he has learned anything from everything that has happened, it would be to always expect the unexpected. Placing his left hand against the cold wooden door, Severus pushes it slowly, as to alert himself and any others present that they are not alone. He quickly whips into the room, like the shadows that are cast from the full moon's light. Severus raises his wand higher, igniting it with a simple Lumos and goes from side to side of the room.

The smell hits Severus like a brick wall and he is forced to stumble back, his stomach turning so violently that he dry heaves. Severus covers his mouth in hopes to keep what little dinner he had eaten down, the stench of copper mixed with the starting of decay is drifting about with a breeze that enters through a partly cracked window. He steps closer, nothing seems out of place but his instincts are telling him he is far from right. A couch is blocking his view of something, something that remotely resembles a body, his stomach turns again. Severus stops for a moment to compose himself into his former self, the Death Eater side of himself that did and does not let little things such as bodies and blood affect him, he has seen far too many already.

The sight brought him to his knees, not one for showing emotion, he cannot help the silent almost horrified scream that tries to escape. There before his knees were two; not one but two, young adults, dead beside the fireplace, almost ritualistically. The man, a boy of maybe twenty, is laying with his arms splayed above his head. His left arm just barely in reach of the woman that lays beside him, his face is halfway buried into the dried blood, eyes halfway closed. Severus can see the deep brown that has faded, but not lost. He realizes with a start that this was done recently, no more than twenty-four hours ago, which startles him. He nudges the man and rolls him over, his head turned to the side to avoid vomiting at the stench that gets stirred. He knows this work but refuses initially that his past is doomed to forever haunt him no matter how far he runs, the cuts to the neck and arms is vicious and a slow painful death, he has seen the work in action, it sends shivers down his spine. Severus turns, not wanting to see the woman, he knows she will be far worse than her husband.

Severus quickly picks his knees from where he is and finally gets up onto his haunches, he slowly turns in a complete circle, noticing what was not so apparent to him moments before. Blood, dried blood stains almost every inch of the velvety hearth before the fire. Its ends stretching about a foot past the couches end on both sides, while the scene of the bodies was beyond gruesome and sloppy, the amount of blood and where it is contained to, is perfect. He places his hand down once done with the full circle, his fingers lightly claw at the stiff bristles of the rug, he pulls his hand only slightly away and rubs his index and thumb together, feeling the texture. If he is right and he usually is, someone or something had slipped in while he had no idea, and murdered two people in cold blood.

He levitates both bodies with wand in one hand and other hand raised, he nearly drops them when a scribbled message is revealed. He gently lays them down and shifts to get closer to the blood sprawled writing done in haste,

'May any of Voldemort's descendants be warned here...His blood equals your deaths'

He is immersed deeply into the sprawled writing that to his left, ever so slightly, something barely moves. The sound that had originally brought him to this horrified execution sounds again, he falls off of his haunches and spins in the direction of the noise. As he is spitting hair from his mouth and trying to shovel the rest back behind his ears with his free hand, an unmistakable sound freezes him in the middle of his actions. Hand frozen just by his left eye and hair slipping through his frozen fingers, the sound that has paralyzed him is not one he would or will have ever suspected, the sound happens again.

Hiccup.

This time he nearly flies out of his own skin when he visibly sees the dead woman's robe move, the cloak shifting slightly and creating a rather oddly shaped ball. The noise happens once more and he cannot deny his curious nature; honestly still wonders how he was sometimes sorted into Slytherin at all, after being around the Golden Trio, namely the Princess of Gryffindor, he knows her habits bled into his system. They were too much alike and it had taken him seven years to realize this, and for her, he owed his life. Though he will never, ever, ever admit this, even in death, this secret will die with him.

His attention is ripped from the past by a loud piercing scream and then more hiccups, then grunting, cooing noises and finally to crack his skull open, another piercing scream. A shiver of either discomfort or skepticism runs up and down his spine, he should not know what the sound belongs to but he does. He takes the tip of his wand and gingerly lifts the end of the robes near the ball, his breath catching and his hand suddenly clutches his chest. There in a blood bath mess is the smallest infant he has ever seen, just staring at him with bright pinkish-white eyes, a pitiful attempt of a smile trying to form on the infant's rosy lips. His instincts tell him to cut tail and run, to pretend he never saw the ball of living flesh wiggling beneath the fabrics weight, but something has him transfixed. He looks back at the woman then the man and notices something on the left hand of the man, a ring that should not exist except for in the catacombs beneath the mansion. A silver band with carved serpents and a finely cut emerald embedded into the center of the top of the ring, he knows the ring as he slips it from the man's cold hand, Salazar Slytherin's ring, a Riddle family heirloom.

He returns to the infant as another pain-staking cry sounds throughout the room, he pockets the ring and reaches for the infant with shaky hands, unsure of even his own movements. In sense, it was much easier to look at the baby once tucked safely within his arms and covered by his voluminous robes that had nothing better to do than fly out around him like a bat getting ready to take flight. His keen eyes do not miss that the baby is indeed a female and he begins to gently wipe at the mess of orangish-red on the top of her head, there is too much blood crusted within her strands to do anything properly with it, he resolves almost instantly that he will rectify this as immediate as he can.

The air is cold as the full moon still hangs over head, night is refusing to leave without a fight and he knows it cannot be that late into night if the moon shown nearly as brightly as the sun. He has her bundled within the robes, hiding her from plain sight, as he enters a nearby village. The mansion is no longer a welcoming place and he does not wish to be there when whoever stumbles across the mess, he brings her closer to his chest. He cannot explain to you why the sudden need and urge to protect this child has arisen in him, but he can say, that without a doubt, the child has broken through where no one else has ever dared to venture.

The inn is thankfully not full even if a festival is coming soon, his room is on the second floor and no one questions what they are seeing, most just stare, not daring to open their mouths despite their minds being as open as a book, for fear of the mirage being the real thing. He steps into the room and locks then wards it with every ward known to wizarding kind, he does not wish to be disturbed and his wishes will be granted. He unbuttons the top to see her fast asleep in his robes, no doubt she has probably left a mess in his robes, and again, he is right. He dislodges the cape with a snap of his fingers and tosses it into a corner, he will tend to it later. He walks into the bathroom and enhances it to fit his and her needs, a spacious tub appears with a part that leans back slightly so one may rest their back with soaking. He does not have the heart to wake her yet so he transfigures a towel into a small crib, he lays her down gently and she whimpers in the sleep but does not wake, he transfigures another towel into a soft blanket and lays it over her, leaving her head exposed.

He begins to run luke warm water, situating it to the particular temperature that will not scold the baby's delicate skin. He disrobes entirely, leaving himself in only his black silk boxers and goosebumps riding up his legs, he had forgotten to light the fireplace. He hurry's from the bathroom and ignites the fire with a flick of his wrist and a small movement of his lips, no wand present. He hears her starting to stir and walks back into the bathroom calmly, he picks her up and instantly earns an oddly weird squeak from her. He steps into the water then shuts it off before lower into the water with her plastered to his chest, he notices now that she is as pale as he is, her skin almost a pearlescent white, which seem to glow when water gently clung and hit the lighting. She squeals again but throws her little hands down and splashes happily, he notices she has more control over her arm and leg functions than most; what, three month old, that is how old he guessed her to be but will not be sure until a professional can check her out.

He carefully ran his fingers through her hair which seem to grow in the last hour, startling him slightly, as now her hair was just past her ears. The blood that he is washing from it makes his pale face turn a slight shade of green, and he is doing everything not to vomit in the bloodied water. He puts an eye drop size of shampoo within his hand and parts his legs to hold her steady, he lathers her hair until all the red is now white and bubbly, she is absolutely going hysterical with squeals as she tries to eat said bubbles floating down from somewhere she does not know. He rinses her hair and wipes her eyes when she whimpers, he apologies in the softest of voices for getting a little bubbly residue in her eyes. She is breaking his years of hatred, of loathing for anything less than adult, and even then, he still has loathing. She is melting away the ice that has encased his heart for thirty-eight years, all the wrong he has ever done is washing away in this simple yet so meaningful bath with this infant that seems to have claimed him. She reaches for his face and he flinches only for a moment before her soft palms grab a hand full of cheek on both sides and tries to stretch, her little index finger slipping into his mouth and he nibbles down playfully, getting the biggest squeal yet. He turns her to face the wall and a lump forms in his throat, a massive burn, nearly covering the entirety of her back is not only scabbed but looks as if it was done ages ago. He instantly notices that the burn is taking on a particular shape, not yet fully developed due to how small she is, but he knows what it will be when the time comes, her name comes to mind.

He gets out, drying her first then himself all while never letting go of her. As he summons the necessities for taking care of her for tonight and in the morning; for he plans for them to travel by the coming sun light, he sits with her fully clothed and a fresh diaper on his lap. Her partial smile and soft squeal finish the ice and break what chains the remain binding him, the child that sits in his lap from this night forward,will always be his daughter. He smiles a truly genuine soft smile as his eyes become full of emotions thought long dead to him,

"Well, I believe I have thought of a name for you my little one," Her eyes are glued to his, giant saucers of wonder as he continues, "I will call you Phoenix. For you and I both, will rise from the ashes of our past."

The night he had showed up at Hogwarts, purposely missing the feast, though he will not start working until next year technically. Minerva had cornered him and threaten to hex him to an early grave if she did not get to see the girl, he was reluctant, but seeing as Phoenix reached for her, he could not deny his little girl's simplest wish. Minerva immediately allowed for his private quarters to accommodate his daughter, but she promised with a very heavy threat that she wanted to know how and when did he have a daughter and why she knew nothing of it until now. Though there were far too many questions and no answers he really wish to give, only a few select staff member's knew of Phoenix's existence and were sworn to secrecy until he felt ready to introduce her to the place he called home and had family.

The true winter months rolled in with piles and piles of snow, Phoenix began to grow at an alarming rate, faster than most yet not too out of the ordinary to cause concern. Her tantrums would cause random acts around the castle such as an indoor winter snow day inside the Potion's classroom, causing all students to evacuate and Minerva to show up later by floo. The Transfiguration classroom became a living fish tank after she wanted to see a real fish from a book he had been reading her for bedtime stories, it took hours to figure out just how the hell all the water actually stayed within the classroom when the door was opened. He had never been one for Christmas, a useless celebration in his eyes, but with Phoenix, he wanted to give her the world and more, even if she didn't understand it yet.

That Christmas caused more chaos around the castle than the Golden Trio could ever accomplish in seven years, and Phoenix did it in one week. The Astronomy tower still resembles a giant candycane, not fully being able to remove the pepermint coloration. The front doors had at some point been turned to chocolate and nearly the entire student body couldn't show for classes the next day due to 'stomach' aches, it did not stop there. She had managed accidently to get every water spout to pour flavored water for a short period of time until he came back looking like a rainbow from taking a shower, she did not know that the water would stain.

The end of the week, New Years, set the Weasley twins to shame. When of course the rumor of what happened back in nineteen ninty-five spread, every known body was going to Hogsmeade where George had set up shop with his wife Angelina, selling every known firework possible to the students of Hogwarts. He had snuck her out while the castle was empty but could not contain her magic, for every hundred steps, he would leave the ground as she became over excited, then touch down again shortly afterward. Where he thought she might do something horrifically bad, the only thing she managed to do when she couldn't see Minerva was turn the headmistress's chair into cotton candy. He was floored as he watched Minerva wiggle for a moment then take a piece of the chair and eat it, a small smile playing her lips as the entire hall, including professors, looked appauled.

Spring came and went with no incident except for turning his bathroom into a giant sized pool so she could swim, he was not angry for the fact that some how she had managed to turn it back.

The years slowly went by and he wondered several times when waking up to a fully awake, wild-haired toddler using his stomach and bladder as a trampoline, how he had not gone crazy. But then there were those moments when he was holding his growing girl and watching her take her first steps, beginning to run, calling him daddy, that just seem to wipe her slate clean. By the age of three she was already up to his waist and could knock him on his arse if he was not careful, she had become increasingly better at handling her magic thanks to the training he had personalised for her, Hogwarts has been accident free for two and half years save turning Minvera's chair once again into a sweet when she knew the woman was secretly craving said sweet.

Several more years were passing and he was being increasingly nervous, the time for his little girl to start school was fast approaching, only one year away. He has been doing everything he can to prepare her, but in reality, it is he who needs preparing. He looks at her as she stares at him from the breakfast table, she is wearing a robe nearly identical to his, her arms crossed over her chest in the best Snape fasion possible, the signature scowl comes into play. Six years of accidental practice seems to be paying off as he is leaning against the kitchen counter and facing her with his hands resting upon the edge, she is tapping her foot on the floor and raises a brow.

"Well father?" She mockingly uses his tone that he has used on her since as long as she can remember.

"Well what Phoenix? Do you really expect me to let you out when I am not ready to reveal your exsistence yet?"

"What does it matter? I will be a student here next year, I just want to have a little fun in the snow. You know, be. A. Kid."

"Why, after all this time question me on my judgment?" He signs and walks over to the table and sits down, folding his fingers together and resting his chin upon them. "I love you very much and I..."

"I know father, you can't tell me, not yet. I promise I won't be long, I'll use the disillusioning charm you taught me...so pleeeaaasssseeee."

"Urgh..." He unfolds his hand to wipe his face, "Fine, one hour. Now off with you."

Their agreements continued on like this and she proved herself worthy of his trust to be out for at least an hour a day without being caught, he had to formulate a plan, to introduce Phoenix before she starts school.