"Dammit, I said 'Shut up!'" Father threw the empty bottle at her head. It missed by several feet and shattered against the stone wall behind. Stanis hid in the corner, behind the big oak table that his father had already overturned. Mother was still crying. Stanis stuffed his fingers in his ears. He knew that Father was going to hit her again. Maybe this time, if he couldn't here the crack of fist on jaw, it wouldn't seem so bad.
It was.
It wasn't like those cheap muggle movies. This was real. This was Stanis' mother and father; fighting again. Father was screaming again, but Stanis couldn't hear what was being said. He started to cry. He hated when Mother and Father fought like this. Mother would always wake up with bruises and her friends at the Ministry would whisper behind their hands and say that father was an 'abuser.' And it wasn't Father's fault that drink turned him violent. What was Stanis to do anyway, he was only six. What could he do? He was so small and Father was so big. And he always glared down and Stanis with his big hooked nose and long hair and Stanis would run and hide. He didn't want to get hit like Mother.
Severino Snape then turned to his son and Stanis ran for it. He had seen his father like that too many times to risk staying in the corner of the kitchen. He ran through the little house to the small linen closet and hit right at the back behind the muggle boiler. Father would never find him here, Stanis thought. He can't fit, and he never looks in the linen closet anyway.