PLEASE READ FIRST:This is a scene between Voldemort's daughter and Severus Snape after she had a fight with Voldemort about her mother. There maybe holes in this and it might not make as much sense to you as it does to me because it's not a polished piece, so please help me by telling me where it doesn't make as much sense. All coments are welcome.

Standing in front of the wall sized window, staring into the dark abyss that is a forest, I couldn't help but grin at the strange serenity of the way the branches bend and the leaves rustle in the chilly breeze. I imagined myself running through the thick of the trees, my brown barrel curled hair brushed back by the wind and knee length dress pressed against my upper thighs. This was the kind of night that I have loved since I was a little girl.

"Don't you dare take one step outside that door!" my mom would yell as I stretched for the handle of our front door.

"But mommy," I would protest "it's so pretty outside."

Shocked she would cry "No!" and her face contorted with agony, tears in her eyes that she'd tried to hide.

That's the argument we'd had several times, always the same. "Mom, I'm going outside" I yelled though the house, turning the door handle.

"What?" she dashed down the stairs "it's 9:30 pm and 61 degrees out there and you're not even wearing long sleeves."

Pleading, I retorted "Oh come on, haven't you ever gone outside to watch the stars?"

She replied "No," although she was able to hold back the tears by then.

Back then I couldn't apprehend what she seemed to be scared of, why it had made her want to cry. Now I can see that it was the undying thought that I would grow to be like my father; that I already was like him. As it turns out, she was right. But even though we had many altercations and discrepancies, I can't help the tug in my heart when I think of her. I wish that I couldn't remeber her. It would make this all so much easier. How could he just expect me to forget?

"Hey" a familiar yet unwanted voice interrupted from behind.

"What do you want?" I inquired glaring at his pale face and dark eyes in the glass without turning toward him, willing him to leave.

"Well miss 'I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks', I was just going to ask you why the Dark Lord is so damn moody all the sudden. He seemed perfectly content this morning."

He used air quotes. He actually did air quotes. "Oh my god, you assume that it's my fault." I accused him, still not turning toward him. He's too unimportant for the effort.

"Yes, WE do." He seemed to be correcting me.

"Well I'll have you ALL know that it isn't always my fault."

"Ha," he said victoriously "so it is your fault. I knew it. I just knew it. What did you do?"

"Don't go off and polish your medal just yet." I turned and glared at him. "You're still not off the hook yet, so you've got no room to be talking."

"What? What medal?"

Of course that would be all he picked up. "Ugh. It's a metaphor you idiot."

"Sure, whatever you say." He gave me fleeting rude and sarcastic look. "Just fix the probable so we don't have to deal with the heat."

"Yeah, because you would do the same for me. Right?"

He shook his head and walked swiftly out of the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

I looked back out of the window and it hit me, why I liked being here. I was near someone who understood me and that's how I'd be able to move foward from the past. He understands where my mother had failed to and it's because he went through it himself. With that thought in my head I went to apologize to my father.