This chapter… sorry, it took so long. A lot of rewrites went I to this. The OG is so much small and not a lot of meat. If anyone wants I will post that one as a bonus chapter.

Chapter 10

Rating M

The pictures he held shook slightly. Severus had forgotten that he had stuffed the two foul pieces of photo paper into his dresser drawer. A soft sound lodged itself in his throat and with a slight cough he passed it off as clearing it; to no one in particular in his empty rooms.

He looked up to the ceiling of his room, the general direction of the head girl's room. He had watched McGonagall and the young girl fall into very easy rolls of mentor and pupil. Somedays he would wonder if what he saw was true.

/The girl who would laugh and joke with the other teachers at dinner. Who sent all of the teachers a letter with a proposed detailed schedule of rounds. Which was not only one but nearly 14 small graphs and notes giving leeway for almost any situation they may find themselves in? It was astonishing to watch such a vibrate girl interact with others. Something Severus had not seen while in school. He had no idea what her dorm life was like, but in classes and meal times, she always had her nose in a book. /

/Then there were times she would look sad or just brief moments when her eyes would look up at the ceiling, and Severus could almost see a tear slip down her cheek. He had not noticed this until near the end of her 5th year./

None of those stolen moments compared to what horrors those pictures showed in startling clarity. He had no idea why he had not turned them into Dumbledore, be when he put them away they seemed to slip through his memories almost like holding a handful of sand.

Severus stashed the pictures away with another shake of his head, how could such a family have done those things… Oh, wait. A family likes him.

He made his way from his room to the small sitting area by a small fire, its heat never enough to warm the small room, the cold stones keeping the same temperature as the dark deep earth under Hogwarts.

Severus could never tell if it was cold in the room or not it barely affected him, his mind flashed back to the nights his father had sent him outside to collect the meat from the lockbox by the shed, they had 'forgotten' about him being outside. He spent countless nights pressed close to the outside of the fireplace, or nights fighting off a dry spot under the front steps from a few vicious rats.

His dark eyes watched the fire with a deep frown line creasing his brow, this thing that brought warmth to many, caused ignorant pain… countless people lived because of this, numberless lives lost to it's all-consuming need to eat. Its burn felt fresh almost real against his arms, his hand moved to touch his forearm, he touched his mark to make sure the burn he felt was not a call.

He had almost not taken the mark, but Dumbledore chose to just send the Potters deeper into hiding. So it's on him to go back and forth, telling the "dark lord" what is going on, for the past 15 years. Of course, the information is useless. Namely, because the idiot doesn't realize he is chasing the wrong boy. The "Dark Lord" had been running on steam the past 5. Running an evil group did not seem to pay well, and many of the once rich, where broke.

/Surprisingly the last few years Potter had made a name for himself in the Slytherin rooms. He acts just like his father. But the Slytherins knew he had a hands-off take to them, only when something was wrong should they go to the prefects then they would come to him. So he just watched the dark-haired boy and the Malfoy's young boy traps about the house and school, barely scraping by in the way of grades./

And yet… the fire had such colors, the clear at the very bottom, so hot it is not even there; blue claiming to be cold like the water that matches it but even a lick of it sears; oranges, reds, and yellows dance at the top flickering and caressing the walls of the fire pit, those colors were the ones who wanted to eat, wanted to control everything, colors never accosted with death and tears.

The sounds of the ever-burning log crackled, it reminded him of his father's head. His father's head that seemed to grow and grow, skin ripping...

An unknown amount of time crossed across the room, and once Severus rose his eyes hurt intensely, stinging dryly, the cones and rods deep within screaming at him for staring at the bright light. Stumbling slightly he caught himself on the small end table. "Bullocks…" he grumbled rubbing at them.

A stiff drink sounded good to his parched throat.

~8~

"Mr. Snape," A gruff voice asked suddenly from a hallway he passed.

A slight spike of fear ran through Severus' spine but he shook it off, by turning; there stood Filch, he was standing a bit taller. The potions master has supplied him with the much-needed potions to start the school year.

The pair were in the dungeons, a walk was the perfect time for Severus to get readjusted, readying himself for the next school year, making sure to go through his routine checking any and all of the small crevasses that teens liked to hide in or new ones the school might have acquired. He made small notes on a few slips of paper to pass along to the head girl.

"Yes, Argus?"

"I was wondering, if ya had looked into my-" his voice faltered and he cleared his throat, "from earlier this month" Filch seemed to be slightly nervous, but the main give away for the younger man, was the fact that Ms. Norris was winding her way around the shorter mans legs trying to comfort him

"Yes, I did."

He allowed a small smile to creep onto his lips as Severus led him into his office, pulling out a small folder; setting it down a bit too quickly, a cream yellow piece of paper falling from the numerous clippings.

As the paper fluttered to its place on the floor, an old muggle picture landed face up. Two children looked up at the camera, one a boy, with suspenders and a small cap disheveled to the side a huge grin wide on his face and a girl sitting next to him holding the same wide grin dressed in a simple light colored dress. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a braid, almost like it was trying to contain wild hair; akin to the only student in the school, at the moment.