A/N: This is for round 13 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am captain of the Ballycastle Bats and I had to write from the point of view of a piece of infrastructure.

I hope that you enjoy this story.

Warning: Brief brief mention of child harm

Final word count: 1362

I knew from the first moment that she passed through me as his wife that the woman was unhappy and that this marriage would not be a pleasant one to watch. I had watched the little boy from the time he first came home, a small bundle almost hidden in his mother's arms. His childhood hadn't been happy either. And when his parents died, he just went on, completely unfazed. Poor little Tobias.

Now he had brought home the woman I had seen him with a few times. She used to smile. She used to make him smile. I did not know what had happened, but her eyes were downcast as she held her swollen stomach.

"Hurry up, you pathetic witch!" the boy-no, man, demanded.

"I'm coming," she responded ever so softly, struggling to move.

And once she had closed me and was inside, I turned myself inside, to watch them in the small, filthy living room.

She made a move to sit on the couch, wanting to relieve some of the stress from the child within her, but he snapped at her.

"What do you think you're doing? If we're going to be married, and you're going to expect me to take care of you and that abomination you call a child, you're going to pull your weight around here. Get cleaning!"

And she did. She got up, struggling to bend over to pick up the trash he always left lying on the floor.

I watched as she struggled to clean the entire night. Yet she did so without a word until he left her alone to go to bed. And then she collapsed into the couch and began to cry silently, her body shaking with each sob. Once she collected herself, she finished cleaning up the trash, another hour having past at least before she left my sight and went to bed herself.

She struggled with the crying baby. Her black hair a ragged mess as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Tobias, taking after his own father, had slapped the boy for crying out. This happening only a couple hours after they brought the baby home.

"Get that thing to shut up, Eileen!" Tobias yelled as she stomped towards me. "I'm going out for a drink."

She slammed me shut with such a force that I rattled, shaking the wall with me.

"Shh, little Severus, please, shh. Calm down, you're okay."

But she and I both knew that he was not okay, and he likely wouldn't be.

Eileen was out of my site in the kitchen as little Severus sat on the floor with several books around him. The same books he read every day, because they could not (and Tobias would not) buy anymore.

Still, Severus read them all, every day, like they let him escape. He never went outside. He was pale like his mother, and had his father's nose. His hair was long and black and greasy, because his father barely managed to pay the water bill, so he forced the child to remain filthy for days or weeks on end.

Tobias slammed through me, a habit of his that felt like it was wearing me down far too quickly. "What are you doing boy?"

"Re-reading," Severus stammered out.

"Don't you always do that?"

Severus barely nodded.

"Well, boy? Answer me!"

"Ye-yes, sir."

"Stop wasting your time with books. They'll get you nowhere! Go outside, go be a normal boy."

Tobias knew that hurt, because he had noticed, like his mother and I, the gifts the boy possessed. It was the only reason Tobias had stopped beating the boy, when his gifts had lashed out.

"bu-but father-"

"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!" Tobias yelled. "And I don't want to see you again until sunset, and you best be back by then boy."

"Ye-yes sir."

And Severus passed through me for the first time to 'play' outside.

Severus stared as the men carried out his parents' bodies. He looked empty, but not like his father had been. He returned from his final year of school to find Eileen beaten to death and his father having finally succeeded in drinking himself to death.

I began to see the pattern of abusive family and early death, and found myself hoping that Severus's future stood even the slightest chance of being happier than his childhood.

And while I had hoped that school ending meant he would be home more often, where I could watch him, he instead started teaching at the school, spending as little time in his home as possible, though I could hardly blame him.

He missed his mother, I was able to see that, though only barely. But he acted like he had to keep going on, as if his parents' deaths didn't faze him.

The women who entered through me reminded me of the man that Severus called Wormtail. Though they each had their differences. One was colder, darker, and she spoke to Severus with such disgust. The other was a mother. A mother who cared about her son. And they forced Severus to make an unbreakable vow. Though he had never discussed such things, I knew that it could not be a good thing, and that he would be at risk if he did not comply.

But he was doing it to protect a child. And that made me happy for him. Because he could do something good for a child despite how he was treated.

The girl with brown, bushy hair helped Severus through the door. She was so much younger than he was, and yet she looked at him through eyes so full of caring and understanding, I could not stop the hope that sprang to me. As she carefully opened me, guiding Severus carefully inside and towards the couch, before she returned to slowly, gently close me. Something I hadn't felt in so long, not that Severus was ever harsh, he just didn't care about this place.

"Do you need anything," she asked him gently. "Tea? Food?"

"Just leave me, there's no need for you to stay, Granger." His voice was so rough, as if his throat was far too dry.

"Don't be so stubborn you fool. I'm going to help you get back on your feet. I'm not going to let you waste away."

"You will. You'll give up."

"You might be a stubborn Slytherin, but I'm an even more stubborn Gryffindor."

A year later, she was still there every day to care for him. And every day he challenged her to come back. Though six months ago he stopped really needing her help.

Every day she came and talked with him, about his favorite books, about the things going on in the world. And as she talked to him, she cleaned up, commenting that she couldn't possibly let himself live under such conditions, and even if he could his books deserved better.

And all of that led to this moment, when they were face to face next to the bookshelf and had just been laughing.

Their eyes were locked though, the smiles fading as their lips remained ever so parted.

And then in unison, they leaned into each other, kissing. Her hand reached up to caress his cheek as his hand went to her back, pulling her closer.

The kiss, though slow, was building very quickly and I turned my view to the street outside, the summer rain falling gently as I heard him mumble her name softly, "Hermione."

He carried her in her white gown through me, a smile wide across their faces. This marriage would be happy, it was so clearly on their faces. He didn't set her down as he carried her off to their bedroom.

It was barely a year after their marriage that they walked through me holding their own small bundle and began talking about what kind of future they wanted.

It took them a few months, but then they found the "perfect place." They were moving on. And so I watched as they left, the happy little family, finally breaking the pattern of abuse and hate and unhappiness and short lives.