He regarded the potions ingredients. The ingredients looked at him.
The first time he'd been told to do this he'd gone crying to his mother. The resulting row between his parents had been terrifying. He'd been four.
Now he stroked the rabbit, talking gently, until it relaxed beneath his hands. He could not allow other magic to contaminate the ingredients so, as it began to nibble at the grass, he broke its neck.
There'd been no fear or pain. Severus knows this with absolute certainty. Still he hates doing this.
Nextyear he'll be going to Hogwarts.
He'll be free.