Lips pursed tightly into that same snide little smirk that he had on
in most social situations, Severus Snape sat alone at his desk, tapping the
edge of his quill against a stack of ungraded essays. Long strips of
greasy black hair hung damply over his sallow countenance. His expression
may have seemed to be one of anger, at first glance. However, if you
looked into his eyes, it was almost as if there was no emotion there. As
if, he were sitting at his desk, attempting to numb his entire body and
mind. Consentration showed in his furrowed brow and squinting eyes.
Though most would only hear a very faint tapping as the long black quill
rapped on the stack of parchment, a loud, daunting thud, resounded through
Snape's ears. His piercing black eyes gave a small flicker, as if an
unwanted memory had penetrated the sanctity of his mind. Quickly he looked
down at his students homework and vehemently began marking the essays,
consuming himself in anything but his own thought.
A loud squeal rang throughout the thin walls of the quaint brick home on the hill. As the fire flickered and spout out a mist of sinister sparks, shadows danced across the walls. Hideous screaming insued, followed by a sadistic laughter and finally the distinct sound of a woman crying. The house was dark except for the flickering firelight splattered against the walls. Suddenly, a small boy's voice broke through the loud sobs coming from the woman crumpled in the corner. It interrupted the din, just as the man's laughter had started up again. "Stop it, stop it," the little boy screamed fervently, running toward the man with both hands out in front of him. Though the boy reached barely half way up the tall man's leg, he persisted in ramming his fists against the man's knees. The boy's dark strips of hair fell across his pallid face, yet he never faultered. Laughing harder this time, the man lifted the boy by the neck of his striped shirt and threw him across the room. The walls shook as the boy smacked into the corner of the room. Tears began to pour from his angry black eyes as he curled his small knees up into his body searching for some strength within himself. Even with the boy's feeble attempt to stop him, the man proceeded in what he had intended to do. The man reached out a long arm that was thick with muscle. His shoulder's were large and bulging. He looked down his long hooked nose at the woman and smiled as he snatched her up by her wavy brown hair and began to drag her thin frame across the room. She cried out and kicked a little, yet her spirit had seemed to be broken a long time ago. Blood smeared across the floor after her, seeping from a cut she had sustained across her calf. The boy pulled himself more tightly into the corner, his pale face now turning a dark pink, out of anger and hysteria. Yet the boy was intent on making no sound in his lapse of fury. The man dragged the woman along so easily he may have been carrying a feather. The boy shook with fear as the man's hairy arm reached down toward him. The man lifted the boy by a tuft of his jet black hair and held him up high, as one might carry a bird cage. Both hands completely full he now walked into the next room, which seemed to be almost darker than the first one. However, where as the first room had nothing but four white walls, stained wood floors and a large fireplace, this next room was filled with normal things one would find in a livingroom. The man let the boy drop onto the carpet, and flung the woman out on the coffee table. The boy quickly scrambled behind the couch, tightly forcing his eyes shut, wishing with all his heart he could disappear. The man now sneered as he looked down at the woman, whose face was red and puffy from crying. He lifted a tight fist in the air and let it come down hard on her face. Again and again he pounded his fist against any part of her body it landed on. Each time the woman screamed out in pain and each time the small boy winced harder at the sound of his mother's screams. "Come here boy," the man said gruffly. The boy shook so forcibly he could barely stand up, however he knew whatever punishment he might have to suffer would only be worse if he didn't come. His legs quivered noticably under his skinny frame. When he was halfway to the large man, who was his father, his large hand reached out and grabben the boy by the shoulder. The boy's father turned him around to face his mother, who's face was now red with blood. She had squirmed into a fetal position sobbing so hard that the table beneath her shook. "Look at that. That's your mother, a dirty slut. She deserves this," his father said, not looking at the boy. Suddenly, the boy fell to the floor as a large hand collided with his face. "You're a bad boy, Severus. Very bad." His fist came down on the boy hard. He finished it by kicking the boy hard in the side. "Go to bed, Severus. You're disgusting and awful, you deserved what you got," the boy got to his feet as quickly as he could get the air back in his lungs. He began to run off but his father stopped him. "Wait. Clean up your filthy mother first. Go clean the blood off the whore." The boy's eyes once again welled with tears as he took a small wet rag from his father and began to clean the mixture of blood and tears off of his mother's scrunched up face. "Now," his father continued, "get out of my sight." The boy ran as quickly as his scrawny legs would take him, up the feeble stairs to his room. He locked the door behind him and dove under the covers, still shaking uncontrollably.
Severus woke with a gasp. His face showed was pursed into a look of terror, his mouth slightly agape. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. Pieces of parchment were scattered everywhere and a puddle of ink had formed at the corner of his desk. Small drops of black liquid fell perilously to the dark dungeon floors. The look of terror lasted only a few brief seconds as Snape realized where he was and quickly forced his usual facade back onto himself. Yet the feeling of helplessness remained inside him for a few moments. Angrily, he shovelled papers into a pile and attempted to force the intrusion of memories away from himself.
A loud squeal rang throughout the thin walls of the quaint brick home on the hill. As the fire flickered and spout out a mist of sinister sparks, shadows danced across the walls. Hideous screaming insued, followed by a sadistic laughter and finally the distinct sound of a woman crying. The house was dark except for the flickering firelight splattered against the walls. Suddenly, a small boy's voice broke through the loud sobs coming from the woman crumpled in the corner. It interrupted the din, just as the man's laughter had started up again. "Stop it, stop it," the little boy screamed fervently, running toward the man with both hands out in front of him. Though the boy reached barely half way up the tall man's leg, he persisted in ramming his fists against the man's knees. The boy's dark strips of hair fell across his pallid face, yet he never faultered. Laughing harder this time, the man lifted the boy by the neck of his striped shirt and threw him across the room. The walls shook as the boy smacked into the corner of the room. Tears began to pour from his angry black eyes as he curled his small knees up into his body searching for some strength within himself. Even with the boy's feeble attempt to stop him, the man proceeded in what he had intended to do. The man reached out a long arm that was thick with muscle. His shoulder's were large and bulging. He looked down his long hooked nose at the woman and smiled as he snatched her up by her wavy brown hair and began to drag her thin frame across the room. She cried out and kicked a little, yet her spirit had seemed to be broken a long time ago. Blood smeared across the floor after her, seeping from a cut she had sustained across her calf. The boy pulled himself more tightly into the corner, his pale face now turning a dark pink, out of anger and hysteria. Yet the boy was intent on making no sound in his lapse of fury. The man dragged the woman along so easily he may have been carrying a feather. The boy shook with fear as the man's hairy arm reached down toward him. The man lifted the boy by a tuft of his jet black hair and held him up high, as one might carry a bird cage. Both hands completely full he now walked into the next room, which seemed to be almost darker than the first one. However, where as the first room had nothing but four white walls, stained wood floors and a large fireplace, this next room was filled with normal things one would find in a livingroom. The man let the boy drop onto the carpet, and flung the woman out on the coffee table. The boy quickly scrambled behind the couch, tightly forcing his eyes shut, wishing with all his heart he could disappear. The man now sneered as he looked down at the woman, whose face was red and puffy from crying. He lifted a tight fist in the air and let it come down hard on her face. Again and again he pounded his fist against any part of her body it landed on. Each time the woman screamed out in pain and each time the small boy winced harder at the sound of his mother's screams. "Come here boy," the man said gruffly. The boy shook so forcibly he could barely stand up, however he knew whatever punishment he might have to suffer would only be worse if he didn't come. His legs quivered noticably under his skinny frame. When he was halfway to the large man, who was his father, his large hand reached out and grabben the boy by the shoulder. The boy's father turned him around to face his mother, who's face was now red with blood. She had squirmed into a fetal position sobbing so hard that the table beneath her shook. "Look at that. That's your mother, a dirty slut. She deserves this," his father said, not looking at the boy. Suddenly, the boy fell to the floor as a large hand collided with his face. "You're a bad boy, Severus. Very bad." His fist came down on the boy hard. He finished it by kicking the boy hard in the side. "Go to bed, Severus. You're disgusting and awful, you deserved what you got," the boy got to his feet as quickly as he could get the air back in his lungs. He began to run off but his father stopped him. "Wait. Clean up your filthy mother first. Go clean the blood off the whore." The boy's eyes once again welled with tears as he took a small wet rag from his father and began to clean the mixture of blood and tears off of his mother's scrunched up face. "Now," his father continued, "get out of my sight." The boy ran as quickly as his scrawny legs would take him, up the feeble stairs to his room. He locked the door behind him and dove under the covers, still shaking uncontrollably.
Severus woke with a gasp. His face showed was pursed into a look of terror, his mouth slightly agape. He had fallen asleep at his desk again. Pieces of parchment were scattered everywhere and a puddle of ink had formed at the corner of his desk. Small drops of black liquid fell perilously to the dark dungeon floors. The look of terror lasted only a few brief seconds as Snape realized where he was and quickly forced his usual facade back onto himself. Yet the feeling of helplessness remained inside him for a few moments. Angrily, he shovelled papers into a pile and attempted to force the intrusion of memories away from himself.
