My input to the Spinners End challenge for the group Spinners End on the prompt was... oddly enough :P... Spinners End so here's my take on why Snape would still be living in his ancestral home even though he had nothing but bad memories from there.
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A loud crash rang through the bedroom as a book hit the wall, a small thin boy of twelve cowered further into the corner whimpering as another book soon followed, hitting the wall above his head before it fell down on him. The boy's father was standing in the doorway angrily shouting as he tore up yet another book before hurling it after the previous ones.
The man occupying the single bed in the room didn't move, he didn't even flinch when the little boy cried out as a particularly thick book connected with his frail body. Only when the alarm clock on the nightstand rang shrilly did the figure move.
Severus Snape reached out a tired hand and calmly shut the contraption off. He rubbed his eyes with sleep numbed hands before he swung his feet down onto the faded carpet on the floor. His only effort to make the bed was throwing the blanket up again to cover the pillow before he walked calmly passed the man in the doorway, down the hall and into the small bathroom.
Once there he relieved his protesting bladder before he moved over to the sink to brush his teeth. He never bothered with the shower in the mornings; he'd only end up getting sweaty and dirty again anyway while brewing during the day so he put it off and took one instead before he went to bed.
Severus didn't bat an eye when the bathroom mirror in front of him shattered. A teenage boy, resembling his father too much, pulled back his bloodied fist from his broken reflection.
Once back in his small empty room he got dressed for the day and headed down the narrow stairs, not even bothering to look at the framed pictures that hung on the wall, faded pictures of better times and long dead relatives. They'd hung there so long that his mind didn't even register them anymore as he descended the stairs.
At the bottom Severus turned to the right and walked into the kitchen. His eyes taking in the peeling wallpaper and chipped out cabinets with little interest. A few home improvement spells could easily fix the place up but he never bothered with those unless it was to attach the cabinet doors back on when they fell off the hinges. He didn't particularly care what the room looked like as long as the faucet was working and the electricity didn't blow out yet another fuse while he made his tea and cooked dinner.
Sitting down with his morning cup his eyes looked right through the crying woman who was cleaning her wounds with a dishtowel by the sink. And as she hurried passed him after an angry shout from the living room Severus sat still in his chair and studied his tea leaves.
According to his cup, today would be another horrible day. Thankfully Severus had never taken much stock in Divination so he just emptied his cup with one last gulp, rinsed it off in the sink and walked over to the living room that he'd long ago converted into his study.
The room was dark as night even though it was morning outside, the factories making sure that it was forever foggy in this part of town and the heavy drapes on the windows making sure that even the faint amount of light that got through it never reached any further than the dirty glass. The only light source in the room came from a few gas lamps on the walls that lit up whenever he entered.
It was the only change he had ever made to improve his living space and he'd only done it once he converted the living room into his study. He hated working in electrical light.
Severus walked calmly to a bookcase as a flower vase sailed over his head and shattered against the wall behind him. He absently stroked his lank hair out of his face and behind his ears before he bent down, one bony hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully as the other tapped its way across the books before they grasped the one he'd been looking for and pulled it out.
His feet made no sound as they stepped on the broken glass and no footprints were left behind when he walked through a pool of blood in the hallway, the broken and bleeding body of his mother staring after him as he passed her by.
Severus didn't even glance in her direction, he just walked slowly; his head bent over the book now open in his hands, as he carefully avoided walking into the old beat up furniture on his way to the basement.
The basement lab was the only part of the house that was kept in tip top condition as he spent most of his days down there. It was the only place that wasn't haunted by old memories.
His sanctuary.
Severus put the book down on a work bench and reached for his notes. A full moon was soon approaching; he'd have to start brewing the wolfsbane potion then. Hopefully he'd be able to con someone else into delivering it this time; he couldn't stand the grateful look on Lupin's face every time he delivered it.
He didn't give a damn if the potion helped the man out or not, he just wanted to know if the improvements he was making to the potion worked and Lupin was the only werewolf he knew.
X.X.X
And as loud crashes, sounds of crying and screaming and running footfalls rang through the house throughout the day Severus Snape was bent over his cauldrons brewing.
In one of his more serious moments Dumbledore had once asked him how he could stay in a house filled with such hateful memories.
Severus had just looked at him blankly before stating in a dead voice.
"It's just a house."
Because Severus knew that memories dwelled in the mind and even if Severus moved, the memories would only follow.
Only a fool and a coward would try to run away from his own mind and Severus considered himself neither one of those things.