A/n: Hello. I have come to update, once more, and for this segment of the story and all portions onward, I must point out once again: the last chapter was the last one that will have a disclaimer. Why? Because they are annoying and no fun to write. Now, onward.
Chapter Three: Trees
My name is Severus Snape. I turn nine in two weeks, and no matter how many times people ask me why I have a bruise on my cheek, or a cut on my arm, I don't tell them. They don't care… not really. No one really does. They just ask because they feel like they have to. And they don't. I can take care of myself.
I look up at the big tree I am sitting under, and stare at the weird patterns on the bark and the leaves that stretch probably about 50 feet up. Glancing at the house, I decide that I probably shouldn't do what I am about to do… and then do it anyway. Jumping up and grabbing the lowest branch, I latch on with my long fingers and, getting a good grip, pull myself up, and place my feet firmly on the branch. Testing my weight on it, and seeing that it won't break, I grab a branch on the other side of the tree and swing myself over to it, once again pulling myself up. I repeat the process until I am about fifteen or twenty feet up. A gust of wind brushes my face just as I hear it.
"Boy!" my father screams from the back door of our mansion. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
Oh no… I knew I shouldn't have done this. "I… I was just… I…"
"Can't you speak, boy? Damn little…" he trails off and, glowering at me, stalks over to the tree. I try to scramble down as fast as I can, but I only make it about 7 feet. My father reaches up and grabs my foot, yanking me down. I grab a branch as I cry out, holding on for dear life, not wanting to fall to the ground. I have cuts all over my arms from sliding down across the tree branches. He lets go, and I drop to the ground, landing on my feet, my toes rubbing painfully on the inside of my trainers. My father, the huge 6'4 man that he is, reaches down and grabs me by the scruff of my neck, shoving me toward the patio door.
I know what is coming, but still, I can't help myself as I say, "I-I'm sorry, sir."
"Sorry?" he hisses, grabbing my arm and whipping me around to face him as we reach the house. "I called you three times, boy, and you know you aren't to climb trees. What if the Malfoys had seen you? What would Damarcus think if he saw you? He would gloat, that's what he would do, about how his son is proper and full of leadership ability. You know, he doesn't have to punish Lucius the way I have to punish you. Lucius is a good boy." He smirks at this, as he throws me away from him and slams the door as I rub my sore arm.
The Malfoys arrive at our house later that evening. Mother stands close to me while father greets Damarcus and praises Lucius for a potion he brewed in their home earlier that day. I hang my head, and mother gives my shoulder a squeeze, which makes me hiss in pain, ever so quietly. She gives me an apologetic look. She had forgotten that father had used the belt.
Finally, the greetings are complete, and they send Lucius and me to my room. He looks at my uncomfortable posture and the way I sit and catches my eye.
"Again?" is all he says. I bite my lip and nod. He shakes his blonde head slowly. "Damn, Sev. What did you do now?" I know he isn't mad at me, just frustrated with my father.
"Climbed a tree… didn't hear him calling me." I say, looking away. I see him pull something out of his robe out of the corner of my eye. He says "drink" and hands it to me. I do. It tastes awful.
"Ugh… what was that?" I ask, handing the vial back to him.
"What I brewed this morning. Healing potion." He says, coming to sit next to me on the bed. "I thought you might need it, so I brought it along, just incase."
"Lucius… thank you. I…"
"Don't mention it." He glances at the clock on my wall. "Come on… let's go eat." He is the only one that knows. I smile at him, more grateful to him for keeping this a secret than he will ever know, and follow him downstairs for dinner.