(Original A/N from "Facing not really understanging" : Something I unearthed from 2007. I originally wrote the three parts of this short fic by hand and never got around to typing them up. If I remember correctly I wrote these on holiday on Jersey, in the St-Brelade area. I think that the light there, which seems to change innumerable times a day when the wind blows made me want to take a mental trip to Marauder-era Britain. Feelin' retro!

Part II

London, 1969

A slanting ray of sunlight brought life to the brick wall. The usually unnoticed insects - microscopic red beetles, ants, sliverfish - suddenly found themselves under a golden spotlight. Severus stared at this spectacle of insignifficant traffic, for nothing else was interesting enough to hold his attention. It was Sunday evening and his parents had sent him out to play after tea. It was the end of a chilly October afternoon and the sky was paling to a crisp shade of apricot. Severus' breath was visible, though barely a whisp, surrounding his face with a translucent halo.

He concentrated on the network of crawling life before him. Soon, first the puny red insects, then the ants and all the rest started crawling in a looping circuit. They seemed to be forming a word in cursive script. "Severus". The boy looked satisfied. He had always known that he was more like his mother than his father, and so it came as no surprise that he could do magic just as she could. He had wanted it to be so. His mother had repeated the same assessment of his character all thoughout his childhood, whether to his teachers or relatives:

"He's such a strong-willed child. He knows exactly what he wants, this one."

Most of the time it was an apology or at least an explanation for her son's odd behaviour and refusal to cooperate at school or family gatherings, but on certain occasions, Severus thought he had seen a glimmer of pride in her eye and heard a note of affection in the words as she spoke them.

His father had adored him when he was small, of that he was certain. On learning that his first-born was a boy, Tobias Snape has been extatic. He had been certain that he needn't be afraid for the family line and, working-class though they were, he could walk with pride with this knowledge. Only when, very early on, Severus had shown no inclinations towards family traditions such as sports and a general love for physical labour had Tobias started to suspect his son of having inherited what he called "witch oil". His distrust and disdain for his only child had begun to take shape and grow from then on.

Now, aged 9 years, Severus was already starting to lose the carefree joy that all children experience over little things. He was beginning to realise that he was not as well cared for as most of his friends. He became aware of the subtle things that set him apart and that had nothing to do with his strength of will or his magical abilities. In short, he learned to recognise that his family was poor and dysfunctional.

Often he would come home from school, unlock the front door with the key that his mother hung around his neck on a leather shoelace every morning (though recently the lock had given way if he just willed it to), find a can of baked beans next to a saucepan on the cooker and a packet of toast on the table. He knew that this meant that his mother was off volunteering for the church or doing a few hours of cleaning: a quick way to make ends meet when Tobias went on strike.

Severus resented his mother's going to help other people when he would have liked to have her to himself, spend time with her and perhaps help her with the cooking or baking and listen to her stories about when she was his age. Eileen Snape had only begun to tell her son about the wizarding world when it became clear that he was not a squib. She and Tobias had agreed to raise him as a muggle, a prospect that later horrified him, to spare him the difficulties of being and under-gifted halfblood wizard, should it be the case. It most certainly was not.

Still focused on the insects, Severus soon relaxed his concentration and the insects returned to their haphazard paths at once as if nothing had ever happened. He went into the house and gingerly stepped into the sitting-room. There he found his mum and dad cozily sitting next to eachother holding hands. Severus felt a little uneasy each time he saw them like this, but he knew it to be far better than the shouting and throwing of objects that was quite frequent in the Snape household.

One day he had asked his mother if she loved his father. She had hesitated before answering:

"I do. Sometimess I think I love him too much."

"More than me?" Severus had asked once.

"Child!" she had exclaimed, sweeping him into her arms, kissing the top of his head. It was only years later that he remembered that this was no direct answer. Presently he took a step towards his parents.

"Mum?" he asked.

"Yes Pet?"

"I just made the insects on the wall outside crawl into a pattern. Just by thinking it.", Severus said with pride.

Tobias Snape glowered. The peaceful mood of the evening was waning, it seemed. Eileen, looking at her husband, said:

"Did they go back to normal when you were finished with them?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Well, then there's not harm in it then I suppose. Well done Pet."

"Can I show you how I did it tomorrow then?" Severus asked, his eyes sparkling.

"If we have time." Eileen answered, making a point of showing Tobias through her body-language that there would be no time. Severus sensed that there were things being said between his parents, but he couldn't pick up on their exact meaning. If only he could read minds!

"Would you be a dear and put the kettle on?" She asked.

Severus, who always jumped at an occasion to please his mum ran off eagerly to accomplish his mission, eager for more praise.

"Eileen!" Tobias hissed.

"Oh what do you want me to do about it? I did the same sort of thing when I was a child, as would you have done if..."

"IF? There is no if." Tobias spat.

"It's normal for Merlin's sake!" Eileen went on, her sallow face turning a nasty, animated shade of tan. "Think of it as a different culture."

"I don't like foreign things or foreign people." Tobias said scathingly.

"I know that, but do understand that he will fit in, come time."

"Like you do?" Tobias asked, his eyebrows raised archly.

"Mum! The kettle's boiling!" came Severus' voice from the kitchen. Eileen sent a resentful look towards her husband before rushing off. Did he not realise how much effort it took her to volunteer for an organisation of a religion that she didn't believe in and clean without magic? She was disappointed that he didn't see how much she sacrificed every day for his sake.

"Coming Pet!"

Tobias heard the kitchen door slam and started picturing exactly how strange, and how much stranger, his son was bound to become and felt a surge of anger rise in him. 'That woman has a nerve. If she has magic, as I know she does, she must be able to put some kind of limit on the boy's powers. She'd only be doing the right thing, the bloody witch.' Tobias was going to have a talk with his wife later in bed. She wouldn't resist him there. He would remind her that it was him that she loved best, not that strange and disappointing child of theirs.