Severus returned very rarely to his childhood domicile in Spinner's End during his time at Hogwarts, opting to spend the holidays at school when possible. The two summer months were the only time when he was forced to return to the screaming and fighting and alcohol that went hand in hand with returning to his parents. Over seven years, this aught to have added up to a total of four hundred and thirty four days spent in the company of Eileen and Tobias, yet, in his school career, Severus spent four hundred and thirty seven days in the desolate old house.
The extra three days were the result of the death of his mother in the last week of January, during Snape's sixth year. He had been in Slughorn's office, enjoying a conversation about the uses of armadillo bile in restorative potions with Slughorn, and a third year boy named Robert Jeffstone who had proven himself quite adept in the art of potion making when a scared looking Hufflepuff first year entered and told him in a quivering voice that the headmaster needed Snape to come to his office immediately. He had, of course, obeyed, bidding the others good night and heading to the gargoyle with the little blonde girl. She had spoken the password and then ushered him into the office, at which point Dumbledore handed her some sort of muggle candy and bid her goodnight.
"Please, take a seat, Severus." His voice was calm, but there was something underneath the tired old man façade, something that Snape knew meant bad news. He thought back to the many detentions he had received, the inquisitions about dark magic that had been carried out by students, but to the best of his knowledge nothing worthy of this level of gravity had occurred recently. So he did as he was asked and perched in the high backed chair facing the heavy dark wood desk.
"I have some very sad news, Severus." Pity, that was what had been so well veiled, not anger or disappointment.
"Sir?" What could cause Dumbledore to feel sympathy for such a student as himself; one who had been in so much trouble, was a known friend of many of the members of the Dark Lord's inner circle?
"Your mother, Severus. She passed away a few hours ago, but I just got the owl. I am so very sorry." The wrinkled old hands reach out trying to comfort, but Snape draws away, all too familiar with the hurt palms can inflict.
He is seven again, cowering at the kitchen table while his father yells. "Filthy son of a bitch! Or should I say witch? Fucking magic. Right lot of good it's done us, just look at the state of this place, and now you've gone and killed the puppy. If you weren't so useless, maybe you could have magic-ed up enough food, so that even that mangy little flea bitten mutt could have eaten! Eileen! Come do something with this fucking carcass, cook it for dinner maybe, make both of you useful. Either way, take it and get out of my hair, I need to deal with the boy!" Snape watches the hand come down, waits for the sharp crack as whatever convenient hard object his father has strikes him somewhere it will leave a lasting reminder of his message. Instead he feels warm skin against his knuckles and realizes that Dubledore's hand has found his, even though it is hugging his legs, where he had unconsciously brought them up against his chest.
The old man has walked around his desk and taken the chair beside Snape. "I know it's hard. Loosing a parent hurts, Severus, I understand."
Severus doesn't respond, just stares blankly at a small crystal globe sitting in the desk as wet streaks paint themselves down his cheeks. The dampness feels alien; the last time he cried like that had been the night Lily had stopped talking to him. Or maybe it was even longer ago than that; he didn't keep close track of anything emotional. Maybe it was the night his puppy had died. It had shown up a week before his seventh birthday, wandering in the woods where he liked to play. When he had taken it home, his mother had said that he could keep it, so long as he kept it secret from his father. For three months he managed, but it got out of the shed one day and tried to become friends with Tobias. This had resulted in a swift kick that had broken its front paw, so he had taken it to his mother, hoping that she might be able to heal it. Her magic had waned as she became more miserable at the hands of her husband and, though the idea of making her son happy had given it a boost, she was no longer powerful enough to fix the bone. Instead, her spell caused the bone to shift, working it's way through the skin. Hoping that he might be able to help it heal with some sort of potion, Severus had brewed a strengthening and healing draught. The only trouble was, he had no access to any hawthorn leaves and as a child this one ingredient had not seemed important. Unfortunately, he was very wrong and his potion caused more harm than help. The puppy, which he had never named, out of fear that he would be forced to get rid of it, died the following night. He told his father it had starved, not wanting him to know about his mother's use of magic.
It is several minutes before Dumbledore speaks again. "I truly understand how upset you are, and it is completely understandable. However, you're father has requested that you return to the family home in order to prepare for and attend the funeral. You will be transported by portkey in an hour, so you have a few minutes to mourn on your own, but then you must go pack your bag and return here."
Snape had heard only the first seven words, those pertaining to being upset, because as he listened to them he was shocked to find that they were true. He had always thought that the death of either of his parents would be like the breaking of a shackle, but instead a new and crushing weight has been added to his shoulders. It pushes him into the chair, the pain of knowing that his mother was gone, that there was now nobody left who cared about him, not since his fight with Lily last year. He had expected that having no loyalties would be the sort of thing that set you free to do whatever was convenient, that he would feel some form of freedom. Instead, he feels drained and small, dreading having to face his father without the only protection that had ever existed in the small things his mother had tried to do for him. When he had hoped for a release, he had received more hurting, because, he realized, he had never told his mother that he loved her, and honestly, until that moment, he hadn't thought that he did.
There was a thick layer of snow over the graveyard in the desolate and miserable town of Sinner's End on the day that Eileen Prince was to be buried. There had been no service because there was nobody to attend, only Snape and his father, who didn't have the money anyways. So, early in the morning, Snape went to the florists on the good side of town, over near where Lily and Petunia lived. He bought a single flower, a final parting gift to give his mother before she was lowered into a gaping, hungry hole in the frozen soil.
Snape stood beside the coffin, wearing dress robes, because, as much as his father had hated it, his mother had been a witch. The priest spoke, droning words that meant nothing to the nonreligious pair of Tobias and Severus. The younger, at least, managed to refrain from fidgeting, using the same techniques as he might when under scrutiny during a detention. Desperate for a drink, Tobias continually shifted from one foot to the other. Finally, the priest ceased his tedious readings of biblical nonsense and Severus stepped forward, placing the flower he had bought earlier that day on the polished wood top of the coffin.
"The only flower I will ever love for the only person who managed to love me," he whispered, too quiet for the others to hear, as his hand left the lily now framed against the surface of his mother's final resting place.