Quick author's note: Yeah, I don't own any of this. I think we should all know who does. Ahhh, I would love it if you R&R'd, but like I said, this is my first fanfic in ages. Updates may be a little slow, cause I'm a sophomore in highschool, what can I say, I'm busy. But I hope you enjoy it!
It was a calm Christmas night in the year of 1966. A blanket of snow had surrounded the quaint cottage, and there was chill in the cold night air. Inside the little home were four figures, seated at a small table that was simply covered in food. A turkey here, potatoes there—it was a nice Christmas dinner.
But something in the air wasn't right. It was a different sort of chill than what was outside; it was the suggestion that the worst was inevitable tonight, despite the fact that it was supposed to be a happy occasion. Instead of joy, an awkward sense surrounded the dining room, and in place of excitement, dread could be seen in the two children's eyes. The mother, who ate nervously and carefully, every so often stole glances from the children, but that was all that was said by them.
The father, Tobias Snape, let out a few grunting noises every so often, but that was generally it. "You didn't manage to fuck up this time, Eileen," Tobias "complimented" his wife, on the Christmas dinner. When nothing was said in return, he turned his constant glare back over to his wife. "Is there anything you'd like to say?" He said through his crooked, yellow teeth.
"Thank you," The sullen woman, Eileen Snape, replied, and she cut a small piece of turkey off of the sliver on her plate, covered in gravy. When he seemed satisfied with the answer, she turned back to her slow eating, and she closed her eyes, hoping this Christmas was more satisfying, at least for her two children.
"Mum," Said one of them, the male, and he looked over to Eileen. "Might I be excused?" The eight-year-old asked. He looked remarkably like his mother, with his sullen and pallid face. His hair, slightly greasy, barely made his way past his ears, and he looked up to her.
"Severus," Eileen reprimanded gently. "You haven't touched your peas. You know you can't be excused until you've eaten your vegetables." She had a kindness in her eyes Tobias obviously lacked.
"But mum—!"
Tobias' fists slammed down on the table, apparently tired of hearing his son's pre-pubescent voice ring in his ears. "Severus!" He growled, making the younger girl tremble. "Your mother said to eat your damn peas, did she not?!" He yelled, spit flying onto the butter.
"Tobias," Eileen gently said, her soft eyes looking to sooth the savage beast, but their two children knew that was an impossibly task. "Please, don't swear at the children, it's just not--!" She stopped instantly when she felt the large hand of her husband across her cheek, and she let out a tiny gasp.
"Don't you try to tell me how to parent!" Tobias yelled, the liquor getting to him, finally. The younger girl, about five, began to cry gently at his yelling. He looked to the two of them clenching his jaw to keep himself from hitting one of them just yet. "Both of you, out!" He barked, and the two kids rose up instantly, headed up the creaking, ancient stairs, and into Severus' bedroom.
As the screams of their mother filled the whole house, both Severus and his younger sister sat huddled on his sad excuse for a bed. Severus clamped his hands on his little sister's ears as she cried into his chest. It was then that Severus refused to expect a proper Christmas, from then on.