Disclaimer: If I owned this series I probably would have written a longer chapter due to pressing demands from an editor or something. So seeing as I don't...this chapter will remain its minute length. Sorry about that.

XXXXXX

What weapons of man inflicted the most pain? Fists? Spells? Technology? Words? Whatever it was Severus didn't know. That not knowing festered something inside him, eating away slowly, creating more wounds as it went.

He wanted something to blame, to make something hurt as much as he did.

No.

Severus shook his head, flailing a curtain of dark hair. Bad thoughts. He would not let himself think like this. Like his father. He wouldn't share anything more than blood and DNA with the man. Nothing.

A book started to rattle on the nightstand. He glared at it. Vengeful little thing shot right at him.

With an 'oof', Severus tumbled out of bed. The potions text had knocked him in the noggin. At least the ground wasn't far off.

Yet again, he lost control of his emotions. Something he found no problem restraining as a child.

'Control your emotions. Control your emotions. Control your emotions.'

He found, by experience, inner mantra was most effective.

'Magic bad for Mum. Magic bad for Mum. Mag--' he stopped.

Severus couldn't help it, he slapped himself. What in Merlin's name had come over him? He was going mad, certainly.

Air quickly filled his lungs, leaving at a much slower speed. He needed to think rationally. Deep breaths would help, and calm him as well.

His head cleared, and Severus allowed his mind to come to logical conclusions. Perhaps accidental magic? He'd admit that the state of his emotions did warrant it. Though, magic of that sort wasn't suppose happen at his age anymore, was it?

He snorted.

Honestly, who knew what magic was capable of? Everything, for all he knew. There was just so many restrictions to it.

Cautiously, Snape allowed his eyes to wander to the book. It had landed face down, opened with its spine jutting upwards. He flipped it over, and read the page. Ironically, the rules and laws of potion making stared up at him.

He snapped the book shut and placed it back on the nightstand. For a moment, Severus felt like he was forgetting something...

A knock interrupted the inner-check list he started. Severus' head swiveled to the source.

Dumbledore was smiling sadly at him, dressed in black muggle clothing. "Are you ready, Severus?"

"What?" He asked, looking confused.

Dumbledore just gestured to his clothing.

Severus looked down and inspected himself. All black, no school uniform, and muggle clothing to boot.

"Oh." Severus said lamely, realization finally getting to him.

Dumbledore nodded knowingly, "We should get going, Severus. Wouldn't want to be late now, would we?"

A blank face was the only answer the headmaster received in return.

XxXxXxX

The Snape's hadn't had fancy processions. No large service, no dramatic casket lowering, and definitely no after-funeral reception. It didn't suit them, even if the insurance would cover most of the costs. For them, a boy and two men, standing over freshly masoned stones, were enough.

Some might say it was all they deserved, perhaps, even more than that.

XxXxXxX

Albus stood silently as the priest spoke in prayer. Religion was never something he was particularly close to. Magic tended to form heavy skepticism towards the 'miracles' of faith. Beliefs in a 'higher being' weren't as criticized, but still hesitantly followed.

It grew silent, and Dumbledore saw the holy man gently close the bible. The two shared a look, a conversation formed silently. It was agreed that no one would leave until the boy was ready.

He did note that Severus seemed to be acquainted with the man, but he didn't know if the young Slytherin truly believed in anything. Albus wished the boy did. Hope in something was certainly better than hope in nothing.

XxXxXxX

Not wanting to be here was wrong. Severus knew that, but it didn't make him feel any different.

This whole thing wasn't necessary anyway, his parents weren't even under those stones. They were in two small urns at his feet. It didn't feel right holding them while praying. How was holding the remains of one's parents suppose to feel anyway?

Severus shrugged mentally, another thing no one could truly know.

Father Arnold had finished. Now what? They weren't moving, so he didn't either. Truly a pointless thing this was. Severus could have done it alone. They should have let him.

Why were they putting him through this? This wasn't the final resting place, just a pointless pit stop. He would still need to scatter the ashes and give a final farewell. Alone though, he would do it without anyone else, without nosy men watching.

Severus read the inscriptions on the graves. He had declined to add anything unique. The mason hadn't insisted, and just slapped on the basic: "Here lies, 'insert name here'. Loving 'insert titles here'."

Drab, plain, and impersonal, it stirred something within the living Snape. Nothing good.

No one should be remembered so carelessly...even Father...maybe. Severus didn't know, and these instances of 'not knowing' were becoming far too common than he was comfortable with. Uncertainty didn't mix well with him, or at least being consciously aware of it. Ignorance truly was bliss.

His eyes started to sting as they gazed at the stone. Instead, the urns at his feet suddenly became more interesting. What was he going to do with those? People usually scattered ashes where they believed the deceased truly belonged. A place their soul would rest peacefully, eternally happy.

Father's favorite pub probably wouldn't like it if he suddenly started making a mess...but... would push those morbid thoughts away. In respect for his mother at least.

Eileen Prince had ruined her life when she fell in love with a muggle. Severus wasn't going to be the one who ruined death for her as well.

That made him think. Where did his mother belong? That he had to figure out, and it sorely bothered his insides when not even the slightest clue presented itself.

A cold wind winter gushed past, making him shiver externally. Though, it was guilt that caused him to quake within.

XxXxXxX

A frown had found itself home on the face of Albus Dumbledore. It had moved-in the moment Severus tore his eyes away from the grave markers. He'd seen their watery shine, and the way the boy repressed it all not a second later.

At that instant the weather had started to turn. It was so slight and almost unnoticeable, but the rattle of wind shaking trees was unmistakable. The sun itself had made itself scarce, hiding behind layers of clouds.

Father Arnold coughed for his attention, and Albus moved his gaze from the sky. Severus didn't show any indication that he'd heard the man, but the boy's body clearly trembled as the wind grew even stronger.

"Looks as if the weatherman made a mistake," Father Arnold commented. He then focused his attention to Severus. "I'm sorry, child. If I'd known, I would have pushed for yesterday instead....one can never be too sure about November weather."

Severus failed to give a vocal response. He did shiver more noticeably as another forceful gust flew by.

Originally, Albus had planned not to leave until Severus had properly mourned. The boy needed to release his pent up sorrow and agression, but it seemed as if Mother Nature wasn't cooperating.

"Severus," he called, laying a hand on the Slytherin's shoulder. "Do you--"

A slamming car door caught the attention of all of the three males present. The voice that followed striking one of them especially.

"Sev!"

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Oh aren't I evil?

Thanks all for reading, I'll get the reviews when I deserve them I suppose. Though, please point out any grammar or writing style suggestions...barely 2 years of high school English makes things difficult.

-Lou.