The usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing and make nothing, and everything that you recognise belongs to the talented J K Rowling.
"Fuck!" He swore as he tripped and fell climbing up the last two steps. He stumbled into the loo, reeking of the cheap alcohol and cigarettes of the nearby pub. He fumbled with the placket of his trousers, pissing on himself in the process. Cursing again, he propped himself up against the wall to avoid falling into the toilet as he finished up. As he washed up, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Dark brown, almost black, bloodshot eyes stared back at him. He stared at his much too large nose, crooked from numerous breaks in bar fights. It was the same ugly mug he had stared at for years. As anger started to build, he punched the mirror in a drunken rage.
Twenty years he had spent trying to forget being an outcast, and trying to fit in. He finally had a wife who had not asked questions, and a son of his own. He thought his life was finally perfect. Then the bitch had to ruin it all by telling him she was a witch. A witch, a freak!
She had never mentioned a word about it when he was courting her, and he had always wondered why she had no family to support her. She still didn't say anything when their son had been born. It had been the happiest day of his life. The bitch had only confessed to him when their son had shown signs of being a freak as well. That was the first time he had let the alcohol take hold of his emotions. The first time he had taken his fist to his wife and child.
He pulled his shirtsleeve back and stared at the faint number tattooed onto his wrist. He had always wondered why she had never commented on it- understood the significance of it. And when he had screamed in his sleep, she had consoled him without question. She had never asked about the scars on his back, and he had never volunteered. But of course the freak had probably never even heard of the second great war. What was it that she said? "It was just a muggle war." Bitch!
He had tried to be a good husband. He had a good job at the mill, and they had a small home in the mill town. He avoided the pub the first few years they were married. But then the mill closed shortly after the baby was born, and there were no other jobs. He had found a few odd jobs to support them, but then they soon started to disappear as well. He soon found himself commiserating with other laid off workers at the pub, and drinking to excess. Then he found out his life was a lie.
He stumbled towards the bedroom, hoping that his wife was asleep. He did not want to deal with her, or for that matter, her freak son. He told himself that tomorrow would be better, and if it wasn't, he would simply numb it away with alcohol once again.
A/N...Just a brief look into the life of Tobias Snape, inspired by my maudlin mood on Veteran's Day (US).
No religious bashing, please. In my head, I've always thought that the Snapes could be Jewish because those features are somewhat common in Eastern European Jewish lines.
As always, reviews are appreciated.