Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the intellectual property of J.K Rowling and also seem to belong to Warner Bros for reasons I'm still trying to figure out. This is a work of fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
Home
A dusty road, a grimy street, and a young boy walking home with white peacocks in his head.
His shoes are a size too big, and the untied laces drag along the bricks of the pavement. One hand is weighed down by a large shopping bag, the other is thrust deep into his pocket. He's staring at the ground, long curtains of greasy hair obscuring his face, keeping it hidden.
He turns the corner into a narrow alley, his foot brushing against a discarded bottle and scuffing the cigarette ends littered in the gutter. A year ago he would never have sneered at the scene, he does so now.
He's changed this year. He's seen how the other half live. He's walked on a lawn with white peacocks, and stolen a tenner (it doesn't count as stealing, not from him), to pay for robes that aren't that smart, but at least fit him. He's taken the train down to London, and the Flu to Wiltshire and seen the Malfoy's mansion, riches that he'd never truly imagined could exist outside Hogwarts.
The shopping bag digs into his hand. His other hand is curled around the handle of his wand. He won't use it, he can't use it yet, but he doesn't dare leave it at home encase he finds it.
He'd like to use it, he's often very sorely tempted, but that would lead to expulsion from Hogwarts, his wand snapped in half. The thought of that happening is enough to stay his hand. Leaving Hogwarts, to spend his life stuck here…
Snape thinks he'd rather die.
He remembers Lucius's mansion. The dinner party, the polite quiet conversation of the guests, the tinkling music, the lights on the lawn. It's another world. The world Lucius lives in, the world Potter and Black live in. The world that's so far away from the harsh reality of Spinner's end.
He's jerked back to reality by the sound of voices behind him, the thump of booted feet, the shadow that he imagines falling over the pavement.
"Hey Snape, what's in the bag?"
He knows what's going to happen next. Grabbing the bag tightly he starts to run, the shopping bashing against his legs, the sound of the inevitable pursuit starting behind him. When he grows up, he's going to find out whoever it was that thought up the Reasonable Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry and make them suffer.
His shoes are too big.
He wishes beer wasn't so heavy.
-----
The door creaks when he opens it and Eileen shouts, "Who's there?"
He doesn't reply, but instead walks into the narrow dining room and drops the bag on the table, "Dad not back yet?"
She emerges from the tiny kitchen, wiping her hands on a faded grey tea-towel. "Came and went. He's in a foul temper; I'd keep out his way tonight if I were you."
Scowling he drops his head, letting the hair flop over his face. He wonders how he's meant to keep out of anyone's way in a house with only four small rooms.
"You've squashed the bread Sev, and two of the eggs are broken."
He shrugs and turns away, making sure she can't see his face.
"At least the milk hasn't split like last time." She hands him the two six-packs, "Stick these in the fridge, and try not to break anything else."
He does so, then empties the bin, dragging the clanking black bag out to the end of the garden. He's got some time now, time alone with her, time to tell her before he gets back.
"I got my results Mam."
She looks up as he walks back into the room, "And?"
He nods, "Good."
She gives him a sharp look, "What did you get?"
Deep breath, "O for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. E in Charms, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration and History of Magic and Acceptable for Herbology." The last three words come out in a mumbled rush.
She gives a short nod. "Not bad."
His heart is thumping painfully loudly. He hadn't realised quite how much her opinion would matter to him. He gives a brief smile but she's looking at the clock and doesn't notice.
"He'll be out for a good few hours yet. How about some tea?"
He nods. The unspoken words drift between them: After tea he can go up to his room and keep out the way when his father gets back.
"I need four eggs for breakfast and you broke the other two." She disappears back into the kitchen and he pulls out the chair that doesn't wobble and gratefully collapses onto it, "I think there's some cheese left though."
He thinks of the buffet at Lucius's mansion. Salmon, pate and caviar, "Cheese will be fine."
"It better be." There is a clang as a pan lid escapes from a cupboard. Lucius says he's never even been into a kitchen.
Worlds apart. But Snape knows he has a way out. He has Hogwarts and Hogwarts has Mulciber and Avery and the Lestranges and Malfoys. People who know other people, people who had power.
People in houses with white peococks. And Snape knew there was a way to join them. He'd seen the tattoo on Lucius's forearm and known, instantly, that this was the way into the elite.
This was the way to get revenge.