"The greater a man's talents, the greater his power to lead astray."

Aldous Huxley

The story of Hades and Persephone had always captivated Severus Snape's young imagination. It was a tale that spoke of a beautiful Goddess of Spring frolicking in a meadow, when the God of the Underworld spotted her. And in his longing for companionship, Hades, utterly enthralled by Persephone's innocent splendour, decided to seize the opportunity gifted before him and opened a chasm in the earth, dragging the Goddess down into his dark realm against her will.

It was a story of power, desire, deceit, and an unconventional kind of love that transcended the boundaries of the Mortal and Immortal realms. However, and to young Severus Snape, it seemed more like an unorthodox 'Happily Ever After', one that was filled with a complex web of emotions and obligations.

Even as a young boy of just nine, crouching in the corner of the cramped, shabby living room of his house, the stale scent of his father's whiskey a constant scent that did linger in the air; all but a continuous reminder of the tumultuous household he was forced to call home, Severus couldn't see how kidnapping someone and forcing them to live within a prison ended up in the pages of a so-called love story. If anything, the boy thought could probably write a book on how it really turned out, the nine-year-old unable to stop himself from drawing the parallels between his own life and the mythological tale.

In his young mind, he felt as though he were living through a twisted reality of Hades and Persephone's tale, one wherein his mother had become trapped, much like the Goddess of Spring - and he along with her.

Yet, Severus also could also point out the key differences that lay between his reality and the words written in the pages of a book. Persephone had eventually found a way to bring light into the darkness of the Underworld, had managed to not only love Hades, but had gotten the God to return her affections. She had become his Queen, and her presence within his realm brought forth the changing seasons.

Severus' mother, on the other hand, had not only broken her wand, but had allowed his father to beat her into a shell of the woman she once was; the once-proud Pureblood witch now nothing more than a slave to her Muggle husband.

Severus wished for nothing more than to escape the life he'd been born into, even as he cowered in that corner, trying to disappear into the shadows - the dark that seemed to echo the very Underworld where Persephone had been taken. The oppressive atmosphere, the anger - rage of his father, and the fear that gripped at his heart, they all felt like the chains that bound the Goddess to the Underworld - to Hades.

The nine-year-old may not be able to comprehend why someone would want to keep another person unwillingly by their side, but it didn't stop him from wondering if his own life was fated to run the same course.

The dimly lit living room was filled with the acrid stench of cheap whiskey, a telltale sign that Tobias Snape was well into another of his drunken rages. His young son continued to cower with fear in the corner, his small frame pressed tightly against the peeling wallpaper, trying desperately to become one with the very wall itself as Tobias staggered into the room, the man's face twisted in a grotesque mask of anger and loathing.

Severus' dark eyes widened, his breaths coming out in shallow, panicked gasps as the empty bottle within his father's hand suddenly was tossed across the room, Tobias cursing and swearing at the walls, pictures, anything within his reach - even his very own reflection in the mirror. His voice was slurred as he shouted, his voice booming through the house, each word punctuated by a fresh explosion of rage.

"Witch! It's all your bloody fault!" was suddenly roared as the man's own dark eyes - a trait Severus unfortunately had inherited and hated - settled on a point across the room.

Severus' mother, Eileen Snape (nee Prince), the once-proud Pureblood witch, stood trembling in the corner opposite the two males. Her face was already bruised and swollen, the result of an earlier encounter with the oaf she called her husband. She had, however, tried to protect Severus, her son from the worst of his father's fury, and the boy found he could not hate her for her weakness at the time.

There was only so much a witch could do without her wand anyway.

He'd seen it once, so many years ago. The memory had been seared into his mind, a moment frozen in time and cherished fondly. It had been a beautiful thing, his mother's wand. The flowers, meticulously etched into the fine cedar wood, had seemed almost alive as they wrapped themselves around the wand's handle. They had been irises if he remembered correctly, those royal, powerful blooms symbolising valour and might.

However, Severus hadn't been alone in his discovery of the wand; his father had stumbled into the room just as he had reached out to touch it, overcome by its allure.

Pale hands clenched into small fists, knuckles turning white as Severus fought against the tidal wave of anger that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him, fought to contain the power he could feel raging within him. His magic, an innate gift he had inherited from his mother, shimmered beneath the surface, ready to defend if necessary.

She was a witch!

His mother was magical, and yet she chose to remain with his father, chose to snap her wand instead of giving into the power that clearly flowed within her veins.

She'd told him she'd done it to protect him, that if she hadn't, Tobias could have killed him. But Severus had never seen it that way. Even as he lay in the hospital for months afterwards, learning how to walk like he was a babe, left leg shattered into a painful mosaic by his father's brutality, Severus Snape still had not been able to comprehend his mother's actions.

If she were a real witch, why didn't she just take me and disappear?

Why did she take me back to someone who hated the very sight of us, who beat her daily just for being who she had once claimed to be, and me for just existing?

Severus had magic. He knew that he was magical, just like his mum so claimed she once was - like the wand she'd snapped after Tobias had thrown his barely-breathing form down the stairs. He had felt the power in that stick, calling out to him, and he couldn't see how his mother had given all that up for the drunk that was supposedly his father.

It hadn't made any sense to him back then, and it still didn't now.

As Tobias suddenly turned his attention and drunken rage on Eileen, his hand raising to strike her once more, Severus couldn't hold it back any longer. He wished with all his might that his father would just disappear, that he would stop hurting her - them.

Yet in his fear and his rage, his magic had become uncontrollable.

A burst of wild, accidental magic erupted from Severus - and sent an already cracked vase crashing into the wall beside the spot his parents stood. The room seemed to crackle with energy for a moment before falling eerily silent, and the nine-year-old blinked in surprise at what had just occurred.

His respite, however, did not hold out for long.

Dark eyes turned towards their protégé, narrowing dangerously in a mixture of confusion and hatred.

"What did you do, you freak?" Tobias slurred, stumbling towards his son.

Panic overcame Severus, and he tried to conjure a barrier between himself and his father's wrath, but his magic once again did not listen. In fact, it seemed to have fled the boy completely and he faltered. He was too young, too inexperienced, and his father's hand had already closed around his wrist like a vice before the man begun to squeeze.

Lifting his son from his feet, dangling the nine-year-old before him like some sort of animal, Tobias' face was contorted with drunken fury. "You'll pay for that, you little freak!" was hissed in the boy's face, filling his senses with whiskey and a stench that reminded him of something dying.

Desperation surged through Severus, fear feeding his need to escape, to get away, and he kicked out, twisting his body and wriggling with all his might to get his father to let him go. And with a stroke of luck, his small foot connected with Tobias' groin.

There was no sympathy within Severus' eyes as his father released him, a guttural cry of pain escaping the man's lips as hands dropped to his now wounded manhood.

Severus fell to the floor, gasping for breath and tears streaming down his face. Yet something seemed to click within his mind.

This was his chance to escape.

The boy stumbled to his feet and fled towards the door, his heart a thunderous tempo roaring in his ears. He didn't look back, didn't check to see if his mother would follow. He knew that she wouldn't, that she couldn't. Eileen had become akin to Persephone in his eyes, trapped with a man who had once loved her, though was now too terrified to leave the devil he'd now become.

As Severus burst out of the front door and into the cold night air, the boy made a solemn vow to himself. He would get stronger, learn to control his magic, and return to his mother - his father and confront them both. No child should have had to endure what he had, and he couldn't help but think of what had made Persephone so different from his mother - despite the eerie similarities they seemed to share; the Goddess of Spring having found a way to bring life to the darkness of the Underworld.

He wondered where his mother had gone so wrong, how her own take of such an ancient tale had gotten so horribly twisted. But at the same time, Severus was also determined to find his own path, to not end up like his mother or father.

Just like the Goddess of Spring had done so long ago, he was going to find his own light within the darkness that was his life.

And if he couldn't find his own light, Severus Snape was certain he had enough magic to learn how to create one.