DETERIORATION
Right before him lay the words he had been most anxious to hear. The black letters infused into the flimsy newsprint stated exactly what he had dreaded: HIS MOTHER WAS DEAD. That was how the words felt as he read them. They were heavy. They were important. She had died on his birthday. It had happened only four days ago. His gut seemed to sink into his bowels.
SNAPE – Eileen Prince Snape, 45, of Spinner's End, passed away on Wednesday January 9, 1980 at Warrington Hospital. She was born August 28, 1934 in Lancaster. In addition to her parents her late husband Tobias J. Snape precedes her in death. She is survived by her son Severus Tobias Snape, and her parents-in-law Richard and Mary Snape.
That was all there was. There was not even a picture, though Severus could never see his mum as clearly as he did now. Her thick hair in a black braid wound atop her head. How she would hum to herself if she thought no one else was in the room. The stern expression she usually wore. The way she would look at him when his father hit him. Those dark eyes that always said 'Don't be weak'.
He remembered when he showed her the Dark Mark. His father had barged in, given it one look and smacked him on the back.
--How many pints before ya made that mistake boy?
His mother only gave him a hard stare. Her face unmoving, lips pursed. Severus could barely look at her. He'd felt stupid. He could tell she wasn't impressed. When his father left all she said was
--You think that's going to make your life any easier, do you?
Severus' eyes started to ache as they gathered tears. Without regard for who might be watching he tore the obituary page out of the newspaper.
Trying to keep composed he swiftly walked to the front doors of the library, and almost knocking down a woman carrying an armful of books, ran back into the sunny street.
In the summer his house had been sweltering, a stagnant container of hot air. In the fall his house crawled with spiders and various winged insects. In the winter his house put up no defense and the only tolerable places were in front of the fireplace or under the thick quilts of his bed. In the spring his house always seemed to find at least five places to accommodate access for rain and sometimes it was so bad Severus kept his Wellingtons on even when he was inside.
The house had never been handsome and this wasn't helped by the fact the only time his father seemed to ever want to do any handy-work was when he was completely piss drunk.
Standing before the house today, so far removed from his boyhood, Severus looked upon it with a whole new level of disgust. Imagine if Lucius or Rabastan saw it. Even worse, Bellatrix. The things they would say. The things they would think. Only Lily had even been inside. Severus had watched her face anxiously, waiting for her to show some sign of discomfort. She never did.
He walked up to the front of the house and looked into a dark window. All the furniture, tables, chairs, couch, were in the same places they had always been. The clock on the wall above the radio was still in the same place it had been. The rug lay in its usual area, the pictures on the end table hadn't changed. Nothing had changed. Severus could almost imagine himself as a boy sitting in this room reading a book, listening to the radio, or watching his parents fight.
He tried the door. It was locked.
--Alohomora.
It opened.
Inside everything was still. The clock's ticking was the only source of movement, the only sound. Being in the house is like being inside a pensive, Severus thought. He half expected to see his past run into him.
But it hadn't.
The kitchen was cold. A tea bag floated idly in a half empty mug. Opened mail lay spread out next to it. Muggle mail. Severus stared at a mouse on top of the kitchen table eating the remnants of a forgotten muffin. He didn't bother shooing it away.
Upstairs there were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. He walked into the bedroom that had been his. All his old things were still there. All that was missing was what he had taken with him when he had left for good. I never liked this room, he thought.
His parent's room was right next to his. The thin walls of the house had never hid anything. He had heard so much come from that room that as a child he had gone out of his way not to enter it. At the moment he inspected the room like it was a strange person he'd heard a lot about. In places the wallpaper was peeling and the curtains had holes. Before he left he noticed how small the bed looked.
He'd supposed he'd known what he might find. He hadn't gone in the house to relive his childhood memories. He had come inside for answers. One answer in particular. And in the bathroom it waited to be found.
The floor was drowned in a pool of blood. The brightness of the red was darkening. Some of it was congealing. Footprints of he medics who had removed the body could be discerned. He couldn't believe no one had cleaned it up yet. Probably because no one had been here to pay them, he thought smirking, in spite of the situation. At least the bath water had been drained. Yet the inside of the tub remained stained with brown. A ring showing the water level had dried, circling the tub. The smell was horrible. Severus almost vomited.
After that he left the house. He felt numb. Almost like he couldn't move. He sat in a ball by the steps to the front door. He sat there for hours.
Around six o'clock a car drove up. An elderly couple got out and began in the direction of the house. They didn't immediately notice Severus or he them.
--Is that? One of them asked.
--I think it is. The other answered.
--Oh God in Heaven, do you think he's seen--?
--Yes. Maybe. The man answered.
The couple now walking with a bit more hesitance to their pace approach the house. Severus registered them. He said nothing.
--Severus? Is that you?
--What are you doing here?
--You should have phoned.
--Did you go inside? How did you get in?
--The funeral it tomorrow.
--Do you have a place to stay?
--You can stay at our house.
Severus listened to them listlessly. He answered any questions asked with a nod or shake of the head. He followed them without looking where he was going. He sat in the car and said nothing, staring at the seat upholstery. When he got to their house he was shown to the bedroom that had been his father's and lay awake on top of the blankets and pillows until the sun rose the next day.
At the funeral the casket remains closed and the only people in attendance are him and his grandparents. He knows his mother's father was still alive. It doesn't matter to him that he isn't there. It doesn't matter to Severus that he's there.
After the casket has been lowered into the ground his grandparents take him to a café and order lunch. Mary and Richard take polite bites every now and then, but Severus doesn't eat or drink anything. Mary looks at him worriedly. Richard pretends not to notice. Right before the bill comes Mary says,
--The house is yours. It will obviously be taken care of before you move in, should you want to. That's why Richard and I stopped by last night. We were dropping off a key for a cleaning crew…
Mary's eyes glaze with tears.
--We mightn't have been close, your mother and I, but I know how happy she made your father, how much she meant to him, to you of course…
--Now Mary… Her husband says.
Severus isn't looking at them. He's looking at the waitress, wising she would come over and interrupt as soon as possible.
--Severus she left you the house, and as I am aware a little money too. It's in the will. I tired to contact you but I had no idea where you were. The last time she spoke of you she said you were in London at university.
Severus has to use all his strength not to burst into laughter. Still a small smile escapes.
--It is quite a relief we ran into you, although I wish you had come directly to us…
Severus begins to stop paying attention. The waitress comes. They pay the bill. They say their goodbyes.
A couple days later Severus moves into the house that is now his.
For a month whenever he has to use the bathroom he walks to pubs or restaurants.
