Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters that you
recognize. The other ones are on the behalf of my little mind and it's
whacked out imagination. Ha! Have fun, now.
Author's note: Err... I have been working on this story in my head for a while, and I want to get out to all of you guys.
----------
Of Blood on Snakes comes Roses: Chapter 1 - Part 1
The room was dark, quite and quiet dull. The window had the black drapes drawn over it. The bed had a black and gray quilt on it. There was a wooden worktable in the middle of the room, where a set of cauldrons and other things needed to brew was there. A bureau of ingredients was up against the wall, and next to that a wardrobe. A trunk full of things like robes, and books was placed beside the door waiting the next September. Another feature of the room was placed on the wall opposite of the bed; it was just an average desk.
August 10, 1973.
Now, the desk was occupied by a thirteen-year-old male, he sat there pouring over a roll of parchment. His black somewhat greasy hair was cut choppy and short; no real care was in it. His eyes shot up hearing a bang of a door from down the hall. Dropping the quill he had been using, he screwed the cap on the inkbottle, and went to investigate. Peeking out from his room, he turned his head left to listen or might even see the one who made the bang. Sure enough, the interrupter of his peace was seen, a large burly man wearing mostly black except the lining of his cloak; it was silver.
His sharp hazel gaze came down the hallway seeing the boy; he nodded briefly giving a sharp signal with his eyes for him to come. The boy did exactly that. The boy walked down the hall was quick long strides, when he came to the man; he seemed short against the rather tall man. "Yes?" he asked, his black eyes rising to the man's hazel.
The man pursed his lips, as he thought, looking upon the child, "Where's your mother?" he asked, his eyes went cold.
"In bed," the boy told him.
"Get her," he demanded.
The boy nodded, and walked off. He went to the first door in the hall; the door creaked a bit when it opened, "Mum?" he spoke quietly, searching for the frail woman in the dark room.
"Severus is that you?" came a response. The woman sat at her vanity, her fingers were trembling as they left her lips. She turned around, looking at him as he walked inside the room. "Is he here?" she asked, fear and sadness misted her pale blue eyes. She extended her arms for him.
He came over, and she enveloped him with her arms, giving him a hug. He withdrew, and took a step back, "Come on." He looked at the door and headed back to the man.
She rose from her seat, and followed. The man was waiting in the lounge room; he turned about to see his wife, his mouth twisted a bit into a tiny smile. "Well good evening, Abigail," he didn't look at Severus. He walked over to her, pecking a kiss on her lips.
"Hello, Fredrick," she replied the greeting.
He nodded, "How's 'your' work, Severus?" he asked the boy. His brow furrowed slightly, nostrils flared a bit, showing the kid he had no time for sarcastic remarks.
"Almost done sir," he replied. The boy, Severus, kept his tongue back from saying anything that'll get what he didn't want. That being punishment.
Abigail turned to look at her son, "Why don't you go finish it before dinner?" she asked politely, she brushed her fingertips on Severus's pale cheek. He nodded, turned and went back to the room.
Fredrick watched his son disappear into his room. He nodded to wife, nodded with smile and went to the kitchen with her to help prepare dinner.
Author's note: Err... I have been working on this story in my head for a while, and I want to get out to all of you guys.
----------
Of Blood on Snakes comes Roses: Chapter 1 - Part 1
The room was dark, quite and quiet dull. The window had the black drapes drawn over it. The bed had a black and gray quilt on it. There was a wooden worktable in the middle of the room, where a set of cauldrons and other things needed to brew was there. A bureau of ingredients was up against the wall, and next to that a wardrobe. A trunk full of things like robes, and books was placed beside the door waiting the next September. Another feature of the room was placed on the wall opposite of the bed; it was just an average desk.
August 10, 1973.
Now, the desk was occupied by a thirteen-year-old male, he sat there pouring over a roll of parchment. His black somewhat greasy hair was cut choppy and short; no real care was in it. His eyes shot up hearing a bang of a door from down the hall. Dropping the quill he had been using, he screwed the cap on the inkbottle, and went to investigate. Peeking out from his room, he turned his head left to listen or might even see the one who made the bang. Sure enough, the interrupter of his peace was seen, a large burly man wearing mostly black except the lining of his cloak; it was silver.
His sharp hazel gaze came down the hallway seeing the boy; he nodded briefly giving a sharp signal with his eyes for him to come. The boy did exactly that. The boy walked down the hall was quick long strides, when he came to the man; he seemed short against the rather tall man. "Yes?" he asked, his black eyes rising to the man's hazel.
The man pursed his lips, as he thought, looking upon the child, "Where's your mother?" he asked, his eyes went cold.
"In bed," the boy told him.
"Get her," he demanded.
The boy nodded, and walked off. He went to the first door in the hall; the door creaked a bit when it opened, "Mum?" he spoke quietly, searching for the frail woman in the dark room.
"Severus is that you?" came a response. The woman sat at her vanity, her fingers were trembling as they left her lips. She turned around, looking at him as he walked inside the room. "Is he here?" she asked, fear and sadness misted her pale blue eyes. She extended her arms for him.
He came over, and she enveloped him with her arms, giving him a hug. He withdrew, and took a step back, "Come on." He looked at the door and headed back to the man.
She rose from her seat, and followed. The man was waiting in the lounge room; he turned about to see his wife, his mouth twisted a bit into a tiny smile. "Well good evening, Abigail," he didn't look at Severus. He walked over to her, pecking a kiss on her lips.
"Hello, Fredrick," she replied the greeting.
He nodded, "How's 'your' work, Severus?" he asked the boy. His brow furrowed slightly, nostrils flared a bit, showing the kid he had no time for sarcastic remarks.
"Almost done sir," he replied. The boy, Severus, kept his tongue back from saying anything that'll get what he didn't want. That being punishment.
Abigail turned to look at her son, "Why don't you go finish it before dinner?" she asked politely, she brushed her fingertips on Severus's pale cheek. He nodded, turned and went back to the room.
Fredrick watched his son disappear into his room. He nodded to wife, nodded with smile and went to the kitchen with her to help prepare dinner.
