Snow swirled on cruel winds throughout the frigid January air, whipping the walls of the dark houses on Spinners End, and anyone who dared leave the comfort of home. All the habitants of the well kept brick houses had their curtains drawn, doors locked, and fireplaces lit…all except for one. The third house down form the corner of Whidbey Avenue and Spinner's End stood out among the others. Its front yard was overgrown, the front door hung off its hinges at the strangest of angles, and the window's crooked blinds were open revealing a living room furnished with a filthy worn couch, several broken chairs and a television with bent aerials. Remnants of previous meals were scattered on the coffee table, that was missing one leg, and several beer bottles lay empty on the floor.
In the room down the shadowed hall, a small pale peaky boy sat mournfully against his bedroom door, as the yells of his inebriated father started to fill the house. He pushed his long black hair out of his bloodshot black eyes that were placed evenly on either side of a hooked nose, which was placed on a pallid sweaty face; then glanced at the clock and reluctantly allowed his himself to smile. He had been eleven years old for a whole fifteen minutes. He did not know why he allowed himself to delight in birthdays. He could barely remember the last time he had celebrated his birthday…It was a memory he had treasured but hated all the same, because of the unjustified present…He remember his mother and father's joyful faces as he blew out the seven candles on his cake, one at time, all his mind focused on the wish he was making….
The sound of shattering glass, and his mother's cry of anguish broke his concentration. Glancing up at the doorknob, his heart trembled with terror, as his mothers sobbing got louder…He heard the sharp sound of his father's hand against his mothers face, her strangled howl's of "I'm sorry", and his father's enraged roars. The boy closed his eyes, and prayed to a God that did not have time for him. Please, let him pass out, let her still be alive in the morning, he thought frantically as the noise increased and his mother's voice filled the hall behind the door.
"No, no, please, please Tobias, leave him alone! He hasn't –"
"SHUT UP, WOMAN!"
Severus pressed his back against the door, and closed his eyes, as his fathers thumping footsteps got closer closely followed, as did his mother's agonized pleas of mercy for him.
"Tobias! Please! Please, I beg of you, leave him alone, please, Tobias, please, not—"
His father's thunderous pounding began on the door. He closed his eyes, and waited for the worse. It wouldn't be the first time, but as he pressed himself against the door, he tried to control his rising anger. He was not a normal child, and he made things happen…He didn't mean to, but he had to try to rid himself of emotion, so he wouldn't give him another reason to hurt him, or his mother ….But as he tried to clear his mind, the hammering faded away to a gentle knock…He opened his eyes, disbelieving, stared into the darkness of his room. Was he gone? Shaking slightly, Severus pulled himself to his feet, and trembling, grasped the doorknob, and slowly pulled the door open.
The rushing air of a warm summer's night met Severus's face as he stepped out on the stone tower. Glittering green stars dotted the inky black sky, and a dark silhouette stood at the edge of the tower, gazing into the star scattered sky. Severus trembled as he crossed the tower floor, almost gliding, and cautiously pulled back the hood of the stranger, knowing, as soon as he had arrived, who it would be.
"You!" Severus whispered his voice hoarse and mingled with horrified astonishment. He stepped back from the cloaked man, who turned slowly to face him. The sorrowful blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore surveyed him over half moon glasses as he took a step towed Severus.
"Yes, it is me, Severus. I'm sure you assumed that, however, when you opened the door. I am quite tired of meeting like this, as I'm sure you are"
Unwilling terror rose within Severus as he backed against the warm stone wall of the castle. Dumbledore surveyed him with an expression quite like pity as Severus glared frightfully.
"You're dead..." he muttered, more to himself than to Dumbledore. And then with extreme irritation and trepidation, he roared into the night, "You're dead!"
Dumbledore did not falter, but instead smiled humorously at Severus, now trembling with fury. The old wizard sighed, and glanced up into the emerald stars that seem oddly superimposed upon the midnight blue firmament.
"As I've said before, what is death to the well organized mind, but the next great adventure? Death is not the worse that can happen to a soul, Severus."
Still frightened and slightly perplexed, Severus stared at Dumbledore, who looked back at Severus. His deploring blue eyes seemed to dissipate Severus's culpable soul.
"I could've helped you, Severus." His words seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog.
Suddenly, the warm summer's night became condensed and deathly cold. The once-calm air became a vigorous, evil wind. It was as though the sky had constricted itself against the stone tower. The emerald green stars blazed with an immense, dominant luster. But for all the light the stars emitted, the heavens became an impenetrable inky black with turbulent grey clouds. They swam the skies like a violent whirlpool of the sea, hungry for the souls of the unpretentious. Through the vice of the clouds, the stars shined still, becoming brighter even still.
As his surroundings underwent their malevolent changes, Severus began to lose his nerve.
"I know!" he cried into the night, his voice breaking slightly, as lightening pierced the chaotic sky and thunder shook the ground. "I know, I know, but what can I do now? What penance could possibly negate all the things that I've done? What do you want from me!?"
Dumbledore did not answer; he was simply staring again, at the anarchic sky, as though waiting for it to answer Severus's question. As he stared, the sky became more turbulent, and Severus watched in horror as blinding green lightning bolt struck, cracking the floor of the tower on which they stood in half.
"No!"
Dumbledore turned toward Severus as the floor began to deteriorate underneath them.
"I only ask this, Severus," said Dumbledore, "Why didn't you come to me? Why?" His final words seemed to echo as he fell slowly, almost gracefully, with the harsh stone. The roaring of the storm masked Severus's shriek of dismay as he crouched into the corner of the floor that was left. Below him, there was nothingness so complete and ominous; it seemed to have its own gravitational pull on the sky. Hold on as he might, Severus was sucked into the cold creeping darkness, and the green star above him slowly rearranged themselves in the sky till they formed a horrible looming skull, a snake protruding from its mouth as a sinister tongue of demise. Dumbledore question filled his ear as he half fell, half floated through the nothingness. Why? Why? Why?
And without warning, Dumbledore's sad, benign voice became cruel and full of hatred. The malicious voice of Harry Potter filled Severus's ears as the wind around him picked up, with tremendous speed and power.
"You're nothing but a coward, Snape! A coward!"
The word infected his head like poison, filling in every space in his mind, possessing him, slowly and painfully eating him from the inside out.
"I...am…not…a coward!!" Severus shrieked against the horrible wind, as he fell even deeper into the dark abyss.
"I am NOT!!" But even as his voice was stolen by the murderous wind, somewhere, underneath his soul, there was a corner of light, and there was the truth, glimmering with an iridescent light …And he knew…he knew...
Severus Snape awoke in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, panting as though he had just only escaped being captured by the horrendous storm, and staring out into the newborn light of glorious morning.