February 18, 1968 - Little Park, Cokeworth

Their first meeting was unexpected. Severus had just escaped the house to get away from his father; who had lost his job at the mill just days before. Frustrated, he had started to take out his resentment on his wife and son - even more so than ever before. Today he had been particularly violent, and his mother had distracted the tyrant while allowing the skinny eight-year old to sneak out the front door, grabbing a piece of bread and cheese from the table.

He'd wandered aimlessly to the little park down the road; his heart constricting with guilt at leaving his mother to Tobias' rage. He knew, fundamentally, that him being there would only make Tobias angrier, but he couldn't help but feel responsible for his mother's pain. She had married the man, after all, so it was probably Severus' birth that had changed him. He couldn't imagine his mother marrying a man such as Tobias willingly.

Frustrated with his dreary existence, he kicked at the dusty ground with his beat up shoe; all the while swinging higher and higher on the rusty swing set. It squeaked and creaked with every movement, but he didn't feel particularly scared that it would fall apart. Now, at the top of the swing, he could see the filthy little river that ran through their run-down town. The water was muddled and grimy, and pieces of garbage floated at its top. It was also peaceful, in a way.

Peering across the park, he noticed a girl with his color hair sitting underneath a big tree; her legs brought tightly to her chest and her head tucked between them. He knew that he had never seen the girl before, and he wondered whether she was new to the town.

Realizing that she looked his age, he cautiously made his way over to her. She startled when a twig snapped beneath his foot, and her head whipped up to look at him, her blue eyes flashing with a momentary terror. A moment later she looked calmer, though still cautious.

"Hello," he greeted her simply, looking her over. She was as slightly built as he, and he could see the evidence of not having enough food to eat clearly; though that was common in their town. Her black hair was quite long and slightly wavy, but was also tangled and a bit messy. Her skin was as pale as his and her eyes were blue. Glancing lower, he saw finger-shaped bruises on her neck.

"Hullo," she replied raspily, her throat clearly bruised and swollen.

"You shouldn' speak," he remarked. "My name is Severus Snape. What's yours?"

"Cass–Cassiopeia," she coughed out. "Sorry."

"Hungry?" he asked sympathetically, when her stomach growled with hunger. She glanced at him sheepishly and nodded.

He didn't know what force prompted him to do what he then did, but years later he would be forever thankful that he had listened. "Here," he said, pulling out his breakfast and tearing the cheese and bread in half.

He handed part of it to her, and she stared soundlessly at the offering. He became immediately defensive, thinking that she wouldn't want his disgusting and bland food because why would she–

"Thank you," she whispered, and reverently took the food from his hands, her soft fingertips brushing against his palm.

"You're welcome," he replied, unused to that level of sincerity.

They ate the meagre meal quietly, Cassiopeia breaking the bread into tiny pieces before swallowing it down her abused throat. When they were done, they sat quietly together for several minutes, before Severus interrupted the silence.

"What happened?" he asked, gesturing at her throat, and the bruises around it.

Her eyes opened wide in alarm and flicked to him indecisively; and her body tensed as though preparing to flee.

"I won' tell anyone," he promised, speaking in a low and calming voice, like the one he used when he helped his mother after a particularly harsh beating.

"Me–my Da," she answered quietly, her voice barely higher than a harsh whisper.

He winced in sympathy and nodded. Then, unexpectedly, he decided to show her his.

He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the blue-black lines of bruises on his arms, from when his drunk father had whipped him with a belt two days prior. "Mine."

She stared at him for a second, and then brought her hands up to trace the marks, the trails of her fingers leaving his skin shivering.

"I didn' know that it happened to anyone else. I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand falling away from his arm slowly. Unexpectedly, he found that he rather missed the sensation.

"It's fine; it's no' your fault," he responded brusquely, but quietly; pushing the sleeve of his too-big shirt back down.

She blinked at him sadly but nodded.

"Are you new here?" he asked, in an effort to distract from his discomfort.

Cassiopeia shook her head. "No, but I usually go out at night. Da, well, da doesn't care much what I do, but he doesn' wan' me playing with the other kids."

He glanced at her empathetically, and was surprised when she scowled tiredly. "Don't pity me."

He shook his head. "I don't. I'm just...sympathetic."

She scrunched her face up a little, and sighed. "Okay, I believe you. And are you new here?"

"No. I've lived here all my life–" he gestured with his chin, "–in Spinner's End."

"Oh," she said softly, a small smile curling around her lips. "I can see your house from mine."

He found himself sort-of smiling back. "That's nice."

Cassiopeia glanced backwards and furrowed her brow. "Will I see you again, Sev'rus? I have to go now - 'fore Da notices I'm gone," she explained, looking away from him.

He shrugged, and glanced away himself. "I usually come here every day, so we'll see, I guess."

"Okay, Sev'rus. See you."

"Bye," he replied, and watched a smile curl around her lips before she darted away, her hair fluttering in the evening wind.