Not my characters of course, although this idea is mine :D Hope you like it, it is the first HP fic that I have written.

His life had pretty much been hell, all his life had he been in somewhat a hell. There had never been anything that he really could remember as a good memory, he had lost the hope that it could change too. Sixteen years as a potions teacher and he still hadn't had one pleasant year. There had always been whispering about him wherever he walked. Constant whispering constant words of hatred.

He passed the Weasley twins, glancing at them. When he had walked away from them, he could see in the corner of his eye that Fred or George was making some grimaces, probably making fun of him. He continued walking, and he couldn't help it, but his face had now contorted into something that showed real pain. He passed the Potter trio, quicker now, he gave them to a short glance before passing them. Ron Weasley and Potter were looking guilty for something, but Hermione met his eyes for a second, and he could read surprise in her eyes. He shook his head and hasted forward and swung open the door to his office. Slamming it shut.

He drew a window on the wall with his wand, made him show a beautiful forest, not the forest outside school, but a forest that was full with fresh air, with mountains in the background, with birds, it was the forest that had made him calm so many times. He rested his elbows towards the window, looking out.

Watching the forest it reminded him of all the memories he so wanted to forget, well if he was to forget all the bad memories in his life, he would well, just had to forget his life.

40 years back in time, in a small house.

The man standing there looked over at the woman, his eyes filled with anger, her filled with fear. But her eyes weren't as full of fear as the little boys face. The little boy that was sitting in a corner watching the scene in front of himself. Watching the man cast the crustasious course on the woman, making her scream out her pain with all her might. The little boy, little Severus Snape closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds too. He felt two warm hands lifting him up, and when he opened his eyes he looked into two brown eyes. Two brown eyes that were the same as his. His older and only sister.

Present

He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out, turned away from the window and sat down at his desk. Pulling up a bunch of parchment, starting to read all the essays. Oh why had he started to think about that memory again, he wanted it away. He stood up again and walked back to the pensive and dropped out two thoughts. That was better. He took out one more and walked back to his desk. He looked over towards the door at the sound of someone. That someone was Minerva MacGonnagal.

"Professor" He constated

"Hello Professor Snape, do you mind me sitting down for a second."

"Feel free" He moved his hand in a gesture.

"Much on your mind?" MacGonnagal asked, nodding towards the pensive.

"Yeah, much to do at the time. What can I help you with Minerva?"

"I was wondering if you could mix me a potion to make it easier to concentrate"

"Concentrate? I have never seen you having that problem?" He asked, not really out of curiousity, but just to be polite.

"Its not for me, I was thinking about Mr. Longbottom. Everyone knows that he is good at what he does as long as he concentrates, I was thinking maybe we could help him with that"

"May I suggest Minerva, that I don't think that would be much use, Mr. Longbottom doesn't need a potion, no potions can make you forget all your memories unless you want to remove them, and that is what is bothering him isn't it?"

Professor McGonnagal nodded, then looked around as in thought.

"He needs to get those thoughts away." Snape added. Surprised by himself, giving out advice about a student he didn't even like much.

"Maybe you professor, maybe you could help him with that?" MacGonnagal asked, giving him a little smile.

"You're not suggesting that I should talk to him, now are you?"

"I was.."

"I won't… " He stopped in the mid sentence, maybe this was something he should do, maybe. "I'll try"

"Thank you professor" Minerva smiled. When she left he looked into one of the moving pictures she didn't really want a potion. He had been fooled, she just wanted him to talk, because she was one of the two persons alive apart from himself that knew that his life hadn't been a piece of cake.

His lips pressed together and he returned to correct the essays.

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