Hello, I know I've disappeared for almost 7 months but hopefully this long chapter makes up for it. (:
Let me know what you think!
WARNING: some teenage angst, struggling with grief that isn't really grief for the person but what you wished them to be.
ENJOYY!
It had been pleasant the first few days of Winter Hols, Severus' mother occasionally pulling him into conversations when she was home. She was in and out of their home, bustling between their decrepit shed where the other housewives of Spinner's End crowded at odd times of the day with broken appliances and other objects and leaving with them as good as brand new, or even a new object in their arms that was a present for one of their children.
Only a few in the neighbourhood could afford to spend money on anything extravagant for Christmas. Not many could afford to splurge on anything for the occasion when bills demanded to be paid and the babies kept popping out of overworked wives and adding their hungry maws to the mix.
Severus didn't ask her what she did, but it didn't mean he was curious. Often he would peek out into the backyard from the kitchen window, watching the gaggle of Housewives sitting around on their old outdoor table and whispering amongst themselves. It seemed that his mother didn't show them how she fixed things. Nor did they seem inclined to question her how.
This made him even more curious. He paused his reading and slunk away, leaving the women congregating in his backyard and beginning to wander the neighbourhood to confirm his suspicions. It was obvious his mother's influence was spreading throughout Spinners End. Quite a few gates seemed repaired and in good condition, and a few kids were having a blast with their old trikes even in the cold weather, which should have been in disrepair yet they seemed to be holding together. The trikes they were riding on were even older than them and he remembered the kids his age riding around them when they had only been second-hand and in better condition.
Of course, he had never been invited to join them so he had only watched them play, but he remembered when most of them had finally broken and abandoned in their respective yards. Severus had tried to put one back together with his magic so maybe the neighbourhood kids would finally let him join in on their biking, but he had been ganged up on and kicked by a group of the boys as they had all assumed he had been trying to steal it. That was the year he stopped hanging out in Spinners End and finally caught Lily doing magic in the park near her house.
The other residents of Spinners End seemed to welcome their presence more in an almost indifferent way, slinking his way around the neighbourhood lurking in the shadows. Being invisible and unnoticeable was harder now that his mother had improved their name quite a bit. Still, old habits die hard and his spy work came in handy when he found the local Spinners End gossippers had become more animated than usual.
Hiding around the corner he listened intently to their words.
"That Snape woman has miracles up her sleeve, doesn't she? She fixed up my blender that not even my Howard could tinker back to life."
"I know! That drunk bastard that was her husband kept her lock away all this time, he was hiding her tinkering skills from us. She brought my son's bicycle back to life- he hasn't been this happy during the Hols in years since we've never been able to afford another one."
"She's magical that woman is!"
He nearly snorted at their usage of the word magical and got caught, but he slipped away before they even noticed him lurking. Their words had confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed using her magic to fix things up around here, yet no one seemed to know it was magic and assumed his mother had skills that seemed to know no bounds. How she hid it was beyond him and neither would he bother her about it. If it made her money and she didn't have the ministry on her tail then it wasn't his business.
Severus observed the people of Spinners End for the next day and a half, partly on Mira's porch as she blabbed about the state of the neighbourhood and he nodded when it was appropriate. The repaired objects became a sort of token of hope for a lot of the people there, and he saw the atmosphere shift. There was always the air of poverty, but it seemed the very air carried a newfound sense of possibility.
While he was proud of his mother's decision to better Spinners End in the pursuit of money, he couldn't shake the bitterness that lingered from the years of isolation his father had imposed on his mother. She had been here alone and forced to never use her magic because of Tobias' blatant hate for it, which had cast a suffocating shadow over their home. He couldn't accept his wife was magical, and he could less accept that his son was just like his mother.
He sighed softly, he couldn't think of the past. His mother had gotten rid of the piss-poor excuse for a husband and father and he shouldn't dwell too much on it. Shouldn't he?
The ghosts of his parents manifested in his moments of weakness, especially when his temper flared out of control. In those instances, he saw a reflection of the man he swore never to become—an echo of the father he despised.
The struggle to suppress the rage within him was an ongoing battle, even now. He understood the destructive potential of his temper, but the scars of his childhood were etched too deeply. In those vulnerable moments, he questioned the very essence of his being, wondering if he was destined to repeat the same mistakes that had defined his father and mother. He couldn't deny he had inherited the worst parts of them. The only mistake he hadn't made was having a child of his own.
Severus' professional and personal life had become a double-edged sword in his later years. His brilliance and unwavering dedication to potions earned him respect among the potioneers of his guild, but no one knew where his true allegiance lay as the Headmaster had. The pursuit of perfection and control, which had shielded him from his turbulent past, also became the source of his internal turmoil. His only clear goal after the destruction he left in his wake was penance, and Albus had seen fit to give it to him.
Even if that had all been for nought in the end, he had sworn to protect Lily's son, and in the end, he had helped Albus sacrifice him when the time came.
Grimacing at his train of thoughts he excused himself from Mira's porch but was unable to slip away without her crushing him in a hug and given a plate of her homemade biscuits—a gift for the holiday for both him and Eileen.
Severus accepted Mira's gesture with a strained smile as she never let him leave unless she saw one. He bounded down the porch before she could find another reason to keep him longer. It took him only a few steps before he was sliding into his house, glad to have a moment alone. However, his peace was short-lived as the clatter of his mother in the kitchen drew his attention.
Expecting her to be cooking some sort of meal, Severus was instead greeted by a cloud of dust as he entered, causing him to cough and wave it away in confusion.
"Mum?" he called out, stepping back as he observed the doorway was wider than before. "What are you doing?"
"Renovations," she declared simply, stepping out of the dusty cloud, her once-black hair now tinged with grey from the airborne particles. Though her voice remained monotone, a glimmer of excitement danced in her eyes.
Severus couldn't help but be intrigued by his mother's sudden burst of enthusiasm for household improvements. "Renovations?" he repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What sort of renovations, Mum?"
She smirked, a dust-covered hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Oh, just a few updates here and there. I've finally decided to put my magical skills to good use."
Severus nodded slowly, unsure of why his mother had decided to spruce the place up now. "That sounds... ambitious. Are you sure you can handle it all on your own?"
His mother waved off his concern with a confident flick of her wand, the dust cleared immediately and revealed a kitchen that no longer had an outdated '50s aesthetic but a more modern '70s vibe that suited the era they were in. But Severus missed the kitchen he had conjured when the home had become his.
"I've been practising these spells for ages. Besides, it's about time I made some changes around here."
Severus couldn't argue with her logic, not that she would listen to him anyway. "Need any help?"
Eileen's smirk widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I could use an extra pair of hands. Care to lend me yours?"
"I'm not supposed to do magic out of school," he pointed out as he clutched the plate of biscuits in his hands.
She gave him a pointed look. "I know you do magic regardless of that in the house. Now help your mother."
Severus nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course, Mum."
And with that, mother and son set to work, Severus adding a few touches from his old kitchen design into his mother's 70s-esque design and storing the biscuits on their table. It was still crooked despite its redesign. Next, they tackled each room of the house. Reshaping the worn rooms into something more livable. It wasn't wealthy looking, but transfiguration could only do so much with the materials available. It looked more like a home than ever, even when Severus had been living there by himself in his later adult years.
"What do you think, Severus?" His mother asked as she surveyed their work. "Not bad for a bit of magical tinkering from the both of us."
Severus nodded in approval, a hint of nostalgia mingling in his chest. It looked vaguely similar to the home he had lived in by himself, but he found he liked this place more. It wasn't the grandest of homes, but it was theirs, and that was all that mattered.
"What do you think about lugging a tree home with me?"
"A tree?"
"A Christmas tree," she deadpanned.
"Oh," was all he could manage in response. They had never gotten a tree before. They rarely celebrated the holidays because they couldn't afford to. His father's demeanour turned monstrous during this time, particularly if there was any semblance of holiday cheer in the house.
"Alright," he agreed.
His mother ushered him upstairs to grab a coat before going to do the same herself. Severus rummaged through his belongings for something suitable for going out into the muggle world. His trunk yielded nothing suitable and he moved to his wardrobe. Among the worn and threadbare clothes, he discovered a bulky leather jacket nestled at the bottom. It had been his father's. It hung heavy in his hands, far too large for his slender frame.
As he shook out the jacket, a book tumbled to the ground, landing at his feet with a soft thud. Curiously Severus bent down to inspect it. It was an old Latin Dictionary, its pages yellowed with age and its cover torn partially. He hadn't seen it in decades, yet here it was, resurfacing from a pile of forgotten items.
Severus was certain that during his relentless purging of the house in his twenties he had expelled nearly everything without a moment's hesitation. This must have been an item that had vanished in his cleaning spree. His father had gotten it for him when he had been no more than nine.
As Severus gently lifted the old dictionary, its weathered appearance immediately whisked him back to his childhood, a time before he had crossed paths with Lily Evans. In those early years, he had possessed an insatiable thirst for knowledge, eagerly devouring the contents of any book he could get his hands on; Muggle and magic.
Often, he would sneak into his mother's collection of magical tomes, spending countless hours engrossed in their pages, all the while careful not to alert her to his clandestine activities. His fascination with potion-making, cultivated through secret sessions with his mother in their attic, only fueled his hunger for more knowledge. Yet, despite his efforts, he found himself limited by the finite number of books at his disposal.
That was until his father had given him this dictionary. From there Severus delved deeper into the world of magic, immersing himself in the study of spells and incantations. Without the luxury of a wand, he tirelessly experimented with spellcasting through wandless magic, driven to create a new spell. He hadn't quite managed it until his early years at Hogwarts, but without this book, he wouldn't have been able to achieve such a feat.
Severus's fingers grazed the worn cover of the dictionary, tracing the faded letters with a mixture of frustration and bitterness. In one swift motion, his anger boiled over, and he hurled the book across the room, watching it crash against the wall with a satisfying thud.
It was the one bitter reminder of his father's feeble attempt at understanding him - a hollow gesture that had only served to deepen the animosity between them. Severus couldn't help but curse the very existence of the dictionary. It was a cruel irony, he thought, that the one gift meant to bridge the divide between them had only served to widen it further.
The memory of his father's fleeting moment of kindness fueled Severus' simmering rage.
"Severus," a gruff voice made the small boy's head swivel around to its owner. A hint of fear glistened in them.
Severus instinctively flinched and tried to hide under the table as a thick book hurtled through the air, landing with a heavy thud on the coffee table before him.
Tobias sighed with irritation from his seat, leaning back and ignoring his son's strong reaction. "Thought you'd like it since you keep using those made-up nonsense your mother spouts. Maybe it'll help."
Curious eyes peeked from under the table, nimble fingers slowly sliding it closer.
Latin - English Dictionary.
Severus slowly looked over the worn book, fingering a tear in the cover. Looking it over with barely concealed wonder.
"One of my buddies giving it away told 'em you did shite like that."
"Thank you."
All he received was a grunt in response.
Severus could bury his emotions behind his shields, but deep down, they gnawed at him like a festering wound. Occlumency shields, while formidable, were not impervious. They had cracks, and those cracks would only widen with time, and his emotions demanded to be felt and they would be eventually. He despised the moments when his shields failed him, those times when his control slipped, and the floodgates opened, unleashing the torrent of emotions he had suppressed for so long. He allowed himself to feel anger - it was a familiar cloak that shielded him from truly dealing with the complex emotions swirling within. Anger had become his main tool for keeping them intact when the shields were becoming fragile, it was a familiar and reliable emotion that released the pressure building up inside.
Anger was easier. It was straightforward, a blunt instrument that could batter down the complexities of grief, sorrow, and regret. When the shields began to falter, he let anger rise and let it burn away his other emotions. It was his armour that protected him from his own pain. Anger was what allowed him to survive in the presence of the Dark lord, any sign of weakness or doubt could have been fatal. Anger easily devolved into hate.
Hating Tobias would be simple, but Severus knew their relationship had been far from straightforward. He couldn't afford the simplicity of hatred. Instead, he grappled with a tangled web of emotions when he thought of the man - resentment, disappointment, and perhaps even a sliver of longing for the father he wished he had.
Embracing the thought of hating his father would only offer him fleeting satisfaction. It was a hollow solution to a deeper problem - and it was often the approach he employed. He had applied the tactic with Potter, finding it simpler to harbour resentment towards the boy for his father's misdeeds rather than trying to understand Harry for who he truly was. Despite Albus' repeated requests for him to reconsider the notion, Severus found himself unable to comply. Getting to know the boy would entail facing the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, and Severus knew he would be utterly crushed by it when the moment came that Albus inevitably instructed him to play a role in sacrificing Harry for the greater good of the wizarding world.
But Severus did not have the energy to hold onto his hate and anger, his shoulders slumping as he grabbed the dictionary from off the floor and carefully stowed it into his trunk. Shrugging into the oversized jacket, he made his way to the door, prepared to accompany his mother to buy a Christmas tree in a subdued mood.
They ventured out into the chilly December air and began their trek down the street towards the middle of town where a shopping centre existed, it was a tightly packed centre that everyone in Cokeworth shopped in no matter if they were from Spinners End or Lily's street.
It was bustling with holiday shoppers, their hurried footsteps echoing against the pavement as they darted from store to store in search of last-minute gifts. The crowds made Severus and Eileen disgruntled as they navigated through the throngs of people and towards where the Christmas tree lot was.
Severus couldn't help but feel detached from the holiday cheer that enveloped this part of Cokeworth. Even Spinner's End, typically shrouded in its usual gloom, seemed to bear Holiday cheer, courtesy of his mother's enchantments. He had never found much cause for celebration during the holidays.
His expectations were modest at best. A pair of repugnant coloured socks from Albus, a postcard from Poppy, and perhaps a slightly offensive trinket from Minerva. While the other teachers occasionally sent him gifts, Severus made it clear each year that he neither desired nor participated in the festivities of Christmas.
It never did deter most of them.
Throughout his tenure as Headmaster, Severus found himself missing the nuisance of receiving those unwanted gifts more than ever. He felt a peculiar absence without Albus to bestow upon him the garish socks, and with no tokens of holiday cheer from his fellow professors. In a quiet act of defiance and remembrance, he would still don the brightly coloured socks, concealing them within his boots as a silent tribute to the departed headmaster. Albus had given him a role to play, and he executed it with precision, even if it meant enduring the insults and attacks on his person, knowing it was for the greater good. He couldn't help the bitterness lingering after learning of Albus' past connection with Gellert Grindelwald. Severus had entrusted his sins to Albus Dumbledore and allowed him to wield the blade of justice, yet he scarcely knew the man he looked up to as a mentor.
Lost in his thoughts, Eileen's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present, reminding him of what he still had to lose. Despite the darkness that surrounded him and would surround him, Severus found solace in her touch, allowing her to guide him forward. It was a comforting reminder of words the Headmaster had once said, 'Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.'
Transporting the tree back to Spinner's End had proven to be quite an ordeal, despite the feather-light charm placed upon it. Both Eileen and Severus found themselves sweating as they struggled to manoeuvre the cumbersome tree through the streets until they came upon an alleyway where Eileen was able to shrink it and stow it in her pocket. Upon finally getting it propped up in the living room, exhaustion washed over them, and they collapsed together on the sofa, grateful for a moment of respite.
"Maybe I will conjure one next year," Eileen mused as she admired the crooked tree.
"It would make this much simpler," Severus agreed, as he leaned back against the cushions.
The rest didn't last long before his mother sent him up to the attic to find their Christmas decoration box, which hadn't been touched in many years.
Severus trudged up the creaky stairs to the dusty attic, his steps heavy with fatigue. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood as he rummaged through the forgotten boxes, the dim light casting eerie shadows around him. His wand between his teeth with Lumos brightening the tip of it. After searching for a while, now covered with dust and grime, he finally unearthed the tattered cardboard box labelled "Christmas."
Carefully, he carried the box back downstairs, mindful of the fragile treasures within. He set it down on the ground and began unpacking the contents. An array of faded ornaments greeted him, each holding a story of its own.
Eileen's eyes lit up with nostalgia as she held up a crumpled paper ornament that vaguely assembled a cauldron, a remnant from years gone by. "Do you remember this one, Severus?" she asked, her voice filled with fondness.
Severus examined the ornament, a wave of memories washing over him. "Yes, I do," he replied softly, a hint of melancholy in his tone. He had made it in Nursery school, it was one of his earliest memories from when he had been three or four.
A young Severus Snape sat hunched over a small table, his tiny fingers delicately working with bits of coloured paper and glue. He sat alone while the other children crowded around the others and showed off their ornaments to each other.
Eileen watched from the doorway with a few other parents as nursery school had just ended for their little ones who were all too absorbed in their tasks to notice. She absorbed his quiet determination cherishing this peaceful moment, knowing how rare they were often getting to be.
Severus looked up not long when he sensed her stare and his grin showed off his small crooked teeth. "Look, Mum! A caldon!"
She approached with a small chuckle, a finger pressed to her lips. "A cauldron, love," she whispered in his ear, "we mustn't let others know."
"Yes, a cal- cauldron is a secret," he whispered back, "do you like it, mummy?"
"It's beautiful, Severus."
Severus beamed with pride, his chest puffing out as he watched his mother gently take the ornament and cradle it to her chest.
"You were so proud of this when we hung it on the tree that Yule," she mused, cradling it to her chest just like she had all those years ago. "I think I will hang it up."
Together, they adorned the crooked tree with the old decorations, each one having a story they could recall. As they worked side by side, the day's weariness faded into the background, replaced by a sense of warmth.
In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of the past and the promise of new beginnings, Severus found solace in his mother's company.
The wind howled, its icy breath tugging at his scarf as he wandered through the nearly empty streets near the park. Nobody was out in the slush and cold; without fresh snow, it wasn't worth it. Severus shivered, glad for the warmer cloak he had purchased at Hogsmeade. However, it made him stand out in the muggle neighbourhood. He paused beneath a streetlamp, his hand across brushing the damp pole. Glancing at his father's old watch, he frowned. He was supposed to meet Lily here, but she was late. Again. She wanted him to spend the day with her, but she hadn't said what they were doing.
Footsteps approached from behind, and instinctively, Severus tightened his grip on his wand. He was about to turn around when he was knocked to the ground. Grabbing hold, he was ready to defend himself when he recognised her. It was Lily! Her dark red hair framed her flushed face. She looked up at him, apologetic.
"I thought you'd catch me!" she panted, then laughed.
Severus released her, his heart racing. He couldn't help but smile at her infectious laughter. "You could have just said hello, you know," he teased, brushing himself off.
Lily stood up and dusted the slush off her robes. "Well, it's more fun this way!" She grinned, her green eyes sparkling. "Besides, you always look so serious. I thought it'd be nice to see you smile."
Severus felt himself blush. He didn't know why, but he couldn't help but smile back at her. "You're impossible," he muttered, though he didn't sound angry. "Come on, let's go to the park since you insist we freeze to death."
Together, they walked through the snow-covered park, their breath fogging the air. Lily skipped ahead, her laughter echoing through the bare trees. Severus caught up with her, unable to resist a small smile. "What's gotten into you today?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She turned to face him, her expression serious. "I don't know. I just feel... happy." She shrugged, and then her face lit up again. "Holiday spirit I suppose."
They continued walking, their steps squelching through the slush. The sky was beginning to darken, warning them of an imminent snowstorm. Lily glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. "So," she said casually, "you look like you need something off your chest."
He hesitated, unsure why she was asking. He hadn't mentioned anything about wanting to talk. "I... I don't," he lied, his voice faint.
Lily's smile widened. "Oh, come on. You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." She nudged him playfully with her elbow.
Severus felt himself blush again. He wished she wouldn't tease him like this. It made him feel so... off balance.
"Fine," he muttered, "it's just... I've been feeling a bit down lately, more confused than anything. You know, with everything." He glanced at her, hoping she would understand.
Lily nodded, her expression sympathetic. "I know what you mean. It's hard, isn't it? With your pa and everything." She paused, biting her lip. "I've been feeling a bit down too. Like I should be doing more. You know, to help."
Severus looked at her, surprised. "You're helping plenty, Lils. It's not that exactly," he said quietly. "It's just... he's not here, and he was a horrible father, but now there is nothing left."
Lily took his hand, her grip firm and comforting. "I know it must be hard," she said softly. "But maybe going to see your pa's grave could help. You could say what you need to say, and maybe you'll feel a bit better about it all."
He looked at her, surprised by the offer and the weight of her warm hand in his. She was right, of course. He hadn't been to the graveyard at all since Tobias had died. Maybe going there now would be cathartic.
"What about what you wanted to do-?"
"Nonsense!" she quipped, "visiting his grave doesn't change what I wanted to do. It's just another thing we are doing."
"All right," he said, nodding slowly. "Let's go."
They continued through the park as snow began to sprinkle down on them. The air was crisp and cold, but Lily seemed unaffected by the chill. She squeezed his hand, her grip warm and comforting. Eventually, they reached the edge of town, where the cemetery loomed before them like a ghostly sentinel. Rows of headstones stretched out, their frosted surfaces glinting in the dim light.
Severus led the way, his steps slow and deliberate. His heart felt heavy as they wound through the rows, searching for his father's grave. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother had visited often. Had she brought flowers? Left any mementoes? He hoped not. He didn't want anything his father had touched to be associated with him. The man was undeserving of flowers.
Lily followed close behind, her hand still clasped in his. The snowflakes began to drift down around them, their soft, whispery touch the only sound in the silence. They passed by several graves, their names and dates etched into the stone, but none seemed to be the right one.
They searched the entire cemetery, winding through every row, but Severus' father's grave remained elusive. With each step, Severus felt a growing unease. The cold began to seep into his bones, though Lily's hand in his provided a steady comfort.
"We've covered almost every inch," Lily said softly, her breath visible in the chilly air.
Severus nodded, his frustration mounting. They had inspected countless headstones, each one bearing names and dates, but none belonged to his father. A gnawing doubt crept into his mind.
"What if...," he began, his voice trailing off as he stared at the expanse of the cemetery. "What if he doesn't even have a grave?"
Lily looked at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "Do you think your mother knows?"
Severus sighed deeply. The thought of asking his mother was daunting. His relationship with her had always been complicated, and bringing up his father stirred uncomfortable emotions. He doubted she even bought a headstone, though that almost seemed too… cruel.
"I suppose I'll have to ask her," he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "There's no other way to find out."
Lily squeezed his hand again, a gesture of reassurance. "Let me know what she says," she insisted
They made their way out of the cemetery, the snow now a steady blanket covering the ground, though much of it was beginning to melt into a thick slush. Severus's mind raced with questions as they walked back through the park. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, they could spend hours just sitting in silence and never grow bored of each other's company.
They walked through the slush-covered park again, the trees standing bare against the pale afternoon light. "Lily," Severus began hesitantly as they sat on a snow-covered bench, their breath still misting the air. "Thank you for doing that for me."
She looked over at him, her green eyes warm and understanding. "You don't have to thank me, Sev. You would do just the same for me, I'll always be here for you."
He nodded, grateful for her support even if it was just helping him look for his father's grave. He had been in turmoil over the man since he had found the Latin-to-English dictionary.
"I guess I'll talk to her tonight," Severus said, more to himself than to Lily.
"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered, her voice gentle.
Severus shook his head. "No, I need to do this on my own. But thank you."
Lily squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. "I'll be thinking of you. And if you need to talk afterwards, you know where to find me."
Severus gave her a small, appreciative smile. "I know. Thanks, Lily."
"Of course, now let's spend the rest of the day together like I asked!" she exclaimed as she waved her hands in the air, "I have a few shops I want us to visit."
The prospect of last-minute holiday shopping was not appealing in the slightest, but he relented with a dramatic sigh, "Alright, I suppose I can go with you."
"Berk!"
They parted ways a few hours later cold and wet but content, and Severus made his way home, each step feeling heavier than the last. The familiar sight of his house brought a sense of dread, but he steeled himself and entered. The warmth inside was a stark contrast to the cold outside, but it did little to comfort him.
His mother was in the kitchen, her back turned as she prepared dinner. The smell of her cooking filled the air, but Severus barely noticed. He took a deep breath and approached her.
"Mum," he began, his voice wavering slightly. "I need to ask you something."
Eileen turned, her eyes sharp and inquisitive. "What is it, Severus?"
He hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage. "I went to the cemetery today. To find my father's grave. But I couldn't find it. Does he... does he even have one?"
A flicker of emotion passed over Eileen's face, too quick for Severus to interpret. She set down her knife and wiped her hands on a towel, her movements deliberate.
"No, he doesn't," she said finally, her voice steady. "I didn't see the point. He never cared for us, and I didn't think he deserved a place to be remembered."
Severus felt a mixture of relief and sadness. "Where is he buried?" he asked, "I know what he did to us, but…"
"You don't need to see him, that is the end of it."
"But I just wanted to... I don't know," he stammered, the words catching in his throat. "I needed to see it, I guess."
Eileen's expression hardened, and she folded her arms across her chest. "You're not going to get anything out of that man, Severus. You need to accept it and move on."
Anger welled up inside him as he heard the dismissive tone in her voice. "You don't understand! He's my father! Don't you think I have a right to know where he's laid to rest? Even if it's just to spit on his grave?"
"No, I don't!" she shouted, her face flushing with emotion. "He abandoned us for alcohol, Severus. He doesn't deserve our pity, let alone our respect."
The air between them felt electric, charged with tension. Severus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it was no use. He agreed with her sentiment, but he just couldn't imagine not knowing where Tobias was, he hadn't been denied that in his previous life. His chest felt tight, and his fists clenched at his sides. "Then why did you even marry him?" he demanded, trying to hurt her with his words. "Why did you stay with him if he was so bad?"
Eileen's eyes widened in surprise, and she opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she turned back to the pot on the stove.
The silence was deafening as Severus waited for some sort of scathing reply, angry and confused. "So, what do I do now?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I move on from this if you won't tell me where he is?"
She spun around to face him, face twisted in anger and an emotion Severus couldn't place. "Find him yourself," she spat at him, "since you seem to want to dig up ghosts."
Severus felt a surge of frustration and hurt. "That's not fair," he shot back, his voice rising. "I just want some closure. Is that too much to ask?!"
"Closure?" she echoed bitterly. "Closure for what? For the man who made our lives a living hell?"
"Yes!" Severus yelled, his own emotions spilling over. "For the man who, despite everything, was still my father. I need to understand, to make peace with it."
He needed some semblance of control.
Eileen scoffed, "That man will bring no closure or peace to you."
Severus stared at her, his own anger and frustration mixing with a deep sense of helplessness. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. The cold air outside hit him like a slap, but he barely felt it.
Starting down the street, he roamed aimlessly, his mind racing. Lily's house wasn't far, but he felt he would burden her if he showed up unannounced. Reaching the end of her street, he hesitated for a moment before turning and walking the other way.
He continued to walk, the cold air biting at his skin, but his thoughts kept him numb to the chill. He wandered through the familiar streets of his neighbourhood, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and he couldn't shake the conversation with his mother from his thoughts.
Severus found himself at the edge of the park, where the bare trees stood, their branches swaying with murmurs of the wind. The snow and ice crunched beneath his feet as he walked along the path, the quietness of the early evening enveloping him. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he needed to keep moving, to clear his mind.
Eventually, he reached a part of town he didn't frequent that often, a place his father loved more than his family. Severus stood in the soft glow of the bar his father used to frequent, casting shadows on his face. Bitterness etched lines on his features as he recalled a distant memory from his childhood—a memory that stood out tonight.
Young Severus clung to his father's hand, the scent of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey hanging in the air. They entered a dimly lit bar, the door creaking as they stepped inside. His father, a man with rough edges and a penchant for alcohol, greeted his drinking buddies with raucous laughter.
Severus, too young that he didn't quite understand, sat awkwardly at a worn-out table, surrounded by the clinking of glasses and the distant murmur of adult conversation. His father's laughter echoed in his ears, drowning out the sense of anxiety that lingered beneath the surface.
He didn't know why his father had forced him to come with him to the bar, but he remembered his mum reluctantly letting him take him as she set up their flimsy tree that his father had somehow secured and brought home today.
"Maybe this year Santa will come," Tobias quipped, looking quite chipper.
Severus didn't believe in Santa, and if he was real he would have to be a wizard to be able to visit every child in the world in one night, but his father had insisted he was a normal man through and through. A hard-working man who gave gifts to children who deserved them.
Severus wasn't one of them. He hadn't ever gotten any sort of gifts for the holidays from anything save his mother and the old novels and textbooks she gifted to him. It was obvious no muggle thought he was worth any sort of gift.
His father's friends, a handful of characters with weathered faces and calloused hands, greeted young Severus with half-hearted smiles and rough pats on the head. Which earned them all a small scowl, which was nothing but endearing to them.
As the night wore on, Severus watched his father transform from a distant figure to the life of the party. The man who had seemed so imposing at home was now animated, regaling his buddies with exaggerated tales and boisterous laughter.
As he reminisced, Severus couldn't help but feel a bitter mix of resentment and nostalgia. The image of his father's carefree attitude with his drinking mates clashed with the reality of a childhood marked by neglect and emotional distance. The bar now served as a reminder of the conflicting man.
If only he knew where he was buried, maybe Severus would give in to the temptation to spit on his grave.
The thought of his father, Tobias, made his blood boil. He remembered the way he used to abandon him and his mum for days at a time, only to return drunk and stinking of cigarette smoke. And now here he was, standing in front of the bar where his father used to spend most of his time, surrounded by the same people who had enabled his father's self-destructive behaviour.
Severus took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He didn't want to give in to the anger anymore. He wanted to be stronger than that. He looked through the window, taking in the worn-out furniture and the cheap, flickering light. It all seemed so familiar, like stepping into a time machine and being transported back to the worst parts of his childhood.
He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the bar door opening. He turned to see Rory, one of his father's old drinking friends, who immediately recognised him. Rory's face lit up with a wide smile and he hurried over, his hand extended in greeting.
"Severus! It's been too long, boy!" Rory exclaimed, his Welsh accent not helping his slurred words, his grip firm and a little unsteady.
Severus forced a nod, uneasy as the handshake lingered for too long. "It's been a while," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. He hadn't seen the man in years.
Rory's face lit up, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of nostalgia and mischief. "Oh, yes it has. I remember you being a wee little thing the last time you hung out with your father's drinking mates," he mused, "Your father's been on my mind lately. I can't help but wonder what he'd think of all this."
Severus felt a twinge of anger at the mention of his father. "I don't know," he replied coolly. "Probably not much but that 'the booze is lacking'."
Rory chuckled, the sound trailing off into a quiet cough. "Ah, you're just like your old man. Always had a sharp tongue, did he?" He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "You know, I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Wishing we could all go back to those days when things were simpler."
Severus snorted derisively. "Simple? That's one way to put it." He glanced at the bar window again, feeling a strange mix of anger and pity. "I don't know what kind of life he thought he was giving us, but it wasn't simple."
Rory looked away for a moment, his expression clouding over. "I'm sorry, Severus. Your father could be quite the bastard when he wanted to be. But he was a good man too, in his own way. He just made some bad choices." He reached out and clapped Severus on the shoulder, his voice growing earnest. "Just try to remember the good times, eh? That's what really matters."
Severus felt saddened at the mention of the "good times." He knew what Rory was talking about, but those memories weren't his to share. They were overshadowed by the constant fighting, the stench of alcohol, and the feeling of being abandoned. He didn't want to be like Rory, though he was guilty of doing the same thing, clinging to nostalgia and downplaying the harm that had been done. He had no memories that could let him cling to nostalgia, not when it concerned Tobias Snape.
"Those memories don't mean the same thing to me." He looked away from the bar, feeling a lump forming in his throat.
"Your father did his best, just like all of us. Sometimes, we just make mistakes along the way." He sighed heavily, taking another sip of his drink. "Look, I know you're not here to listen to an old drunk like me prattle on about the good ol' days. I just wanted to say hello and offer my sympathies, you know? Your father always spoke highly of you."
Severus turned sharply and looked at him with a mixture of surprise and scepticism before he smoothed his features into a scowl. The idea that he had been held in high regard by his father was almost laughable. "Right..." he scoffed.
Rory chuckled, unfazed by Severus' reaction. "I mean it. Your father always thought you were smart as hell. He used to tell us stories about how smart you were to get into that fancy boarding school. He was proud of you, Severus."
"He didn't know me," he muttered, more to himself than to Rory. "He thought me smart? Absurd."
The man boasts to his friends about his intelligent son, only to go home and call him a freak. He was a hypocrite if it was true. Severus clenched his hands into fists with his anger and shoved them into his pockets. "We tend to romanticise the dead in a way we do nothing else," he said simply, he was guilty of this especially when he thought of Lily.
Rory sighed, "I know it's hard to believe, Severus. People are complicated, you know? We all have our demons."
Severus remained silent, his mind churning with conflicting emotions. He wanted to believe Rory, to accept that there had been some redeeming quality in his father, but the pain and resentment were too deeply ingrained. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
"I appreciate your condolences," he said finally, his voice steady but cold. "But the past is the past. I can't change what happened, and I can't pretend it was something it wasn't."
Rory nodded without question. "I understand, Severus. I really do. Just know that you have people who care about you. You're not alone."
Severus managed a stiff nod, grateful for the sentiment even if he couldn't fully embrace it. "Thank you, Rory."
"Enough with the condolences, why don't you come in and I'll get you a drink," Rory started, "just this once. Toast to the rotting bastard you call father."
"No thank you," Severus denied immediately. No way in hell would he raise a drink in toast to that drunken bastard.
Rory gave him a knowing smile, grabbing Severus by the shoulder and guiding him into the bar. "Oh, come on. Don't be like that."
Severus felt a knot forming in his stomach as he glanced around the dimly lit bar. The other men sitting at the bar looked up at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for him to join them. They looked familiar like he'd seen them before. But he couldn't quite place them. The only drinking mate of his father's he had regular contact with as an adult had been Rory only because he had been as persistent as Mira about spending time with him.
"Look, Severus, we just wanted you to know that you're welcome here. Your father might not have been the best person, but we still cared about him. And we care about you too."
Severus forced a polite nod, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. He glanced over at the bartender, wishing he could just order a fire whiskey to make this all go away. But he knew that wasn't an option. He took a deep breath and steeled himself against the unfamiliar feelings churning inside him.
"All right," he sighed in resignation. He slid onto the bar stool, feeling out of place and awkward. The men at the bar nodded in approval, their faces softening as they greeted him.
The bartender came over, his movements smooth and practised. "Rory drags in Toby's boy, never thought I would see the day!"
"Whiskey, neat," Rory replied, "his drink is on me!"
"Distributing alcohol to a minor? I oughta report you, Rory," the bartender quipped with a laugh and poured out a shot of whiskey and slid it across the bar to Severus.
"Ah, Toby would've loved that," another man said with a laugh.
Severus nodded, not sure what else to say. He took the whiskey and raised it but remained silent as his father's mate toasted to the mentioned man. He set the glass down and sat there awkwardly. He wondered why he'd even let Rory drag him in here. But as he sat there, holding his glass and listening to the men around him reminisce about his father he felt more and more like an imposter.
"I have to go home now. Mum will be worried," he started as he set the glass down, using his mother as an excuse to leave. It was overwhelming being in the bar that had aided in his father's alcoholism.
"Oh, stay a bit longer," Rory insisted, patting him on the shoulder. "We haven't had a chance to really catch up."
"I really should go," Severus repeated, feeling even more uncomfortable. His Occlumency shields were cracking, and he desperately needed to get away from people before they crumbled. The past few days had been an unrelenting barrage of stress and tension and anger wasn't releasing the pressure that was building up and the cracks in his shields were breaking. "My mum will worry."
"Oh, come on, Toby's boy. You're old enough to make your own decisions. Stay for another drink, won't you?" one of the men pressed.
Severus looked around the bar, feeling more and more out of place. He glanced at the exit, wishing he could just disappear and go back to his unpredictable life.
"I said, I need to leave," Severus's voice grew stronger, a hint of anger seeping through the cracks in his facade. "I don't belong here, and I'm not going to sit around and pretend like I do."
The men looked at him, surprised by his sudden outburst. Rory put a hand on his arm, his smile fading. "What's gotten into you, Severus?"
"I can't do this," Severus said, pushing the hand away as he just snapped. "I can't sit here and act like this is some kind of happy reunion. My father was a monster, and this place..." He gestured around the bar, "This place is just a sad reminder of what he was."
The atmosphere grew tense, the men's laughter dying down as they stared at him. Severus stood up, his eyes flashing with anger. "You all knew what he was like, and you still enabled him. You're no better than he was."
"Severus, that's not fair," Rory said, his voice tight. "We were just trying to help him. To be there for him."
"By getting him drunk every night?" Severus spat out, his emotions bursting through his shields. "You call that help? You're all just a bunch of enablers, living in the past and glorifying his pathetic life." The words tore from him with a force he hadn't anticipated, his Occlumency shields finally breaking open and crumbling under the weight of his long-suppressed emotions.
The cracks that had been forming slowly for weeks had suddenly widened from the emotional turmoil of the past few days. The barriers he had meticulously maintained since waking up in his teenage body shattered into countless fragments. The anger was no longer a controlled outlet but an uncontrollable torrent, crashing through his defences.
The men at the bar shifted uncomfortably, some of them looking down at their drinks. Severus felt the anger boiling up inside him, threatening to spill over. He slammed his fist on the bar, making the glasses rattle.
"You didn't know the half of it," he growled, his anger causing him to shake physically. "You didn't have to live with him. You didn't have to endure his fists and his insults."
Rory looked at him, his expression a mix of shock and concern. "What are you talking about, Severus?"
"Don't act like you don't know," Severus snapped. "You all knew. You just didn't care enough to do anything about it."
The bartender stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "You watch your mouth, boy. Your father was a good man."
"He was a good man?" Severus's voice was laced with disbelief. "To you, maybe. To the people who didn't have to live with his rage and his despair. But to me, to my mother, he was a monster."
"Severus, please," Rory said, his voice low and urgent. "You're upset. Let's just go."
But Severus was beyond listening. The pain and anger he had kept buried for so long was now surging through him, demanding to be heard.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm leaving, and I don't ever want to see any of you again."
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar, the cold night air slapping him in the face like a cold, hard truth. Rory called out after him, but he didn't stop. He needed to get away from these people who had been a part of his father's destructive life. He needed to be alone.
The anger pulsed through his veins as he stomped down the street, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get away. The cold was biting at him, but he barely felt it. All he could feel was the burning anger and the ache of a thousand unshed tears.
Finally, Severus stopped in the middle of the street, his chest heaving. He looked up at the dark sky, feeling the weight of his father's legacy pressing down on him. He didn't know what to do with the anger, the grief, the betrayal he felt. Why did he still have to be haunted by this? It may not have been long ago here, but he had been through this before. He had mourned decades ago, he didn't want to mourn again.
Shivering, he made his way to the cemetery, feeling as though it were the only place he belonged. The cold stone markers loomed over him, the silent tombs like sentinels of a life he had never truly known. He didn't want this life, this burden. He wanted to be free of it.
Closing his eyes, he sank to the damp grass that had been spared from the snowstorm, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, to slow his laboured breathing, but it was no use. His mind was a whirlwind of memories and pain, and he couldn't seem to find his way out.
Tears welled up in Severus' eyes but he forced them back, his Occlumency shields were rebuilding themselves slowly after the outburst. He could only forget these memories for so long before he had to spend time being haunted by them, it was the price to pay when you shut everything away.
He sat in the cemetery, the cold seeping into his bones as the minutes dragged on. His mind, usually so sharp and disciplined, felt like a chaotic storm, memories and emotions clashing violently within him.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He forced his shields to continue building themselves back up again. The air was crisp and biting, each inhale was a sharp reminder of the world around him. He glanced around at the gravestones, wondering how many other stories of pain and regret lay beneath the frozen ground.
Once he had a thin barrier in place that dulled his anger Severus stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from his cloak. The anger and sorrow still burned within him, but he knew he couldn't stay here, wallowing in the past.
With a final glance at the cemetery, he turned and began to walk back towards Spinners End. The streets were quiet, the only sound was the crunch of snow beneath his boots. He had survived worse than this; he would survive this too.
Severus had taken to avoiding his mother the past few days, and he found himself standing awkwardly in the Evans' cosy kitchen, his dark eyes darting nervously between Lily and her mother, Rose. He was out of place amidst the cheerful holiday decorations that adorned every corner. Lily's mother, Rose, bustled about the kitchen with an infectious energy, her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun as she gathered ingredients for their baking venture.
"Lily, dear, could you pass me the flour?" Rose called out as she glanced over her shoulder at her daughter.
Lily, her vibrant red hair tied back in a loose ponytail, grinned and reached for the bag of flour on the counter. "Here you go, Mum," she said, passing it over with a playful twinkle in her emerald eyes.
Severus couldn't help but admire the warm relationship between Lily and her mother. It starkly contrasted the strained relationship he shared with his mother, they had been warming up to each other until the fight and there was still so much unsaid between them.
As Rose set about measuring out the ingredients, Lily turned to Severus with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Severus, are you ready to become a master baker?" she teased, a playful smirk played on her lips. She had practically dragged him into their biscuit-making craze.
Severus raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "I'll have you know, Evans, that I am already a master of many things," he replied, his tone mockingly pompous as he adjusted the sleeves of his jumper. While he had never willingly baked biscuits he was sure he could grasp a handle on it, cooking was similar to potions.
Lily laughed, the sound like music to his ears, and nudged him playfully with her elbow.
"Oh, I'm sure you are, Severus," she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. "But can you handle the challenge of holiday baking?"
Severus gave a mock scoff. "I'll have you know, Evans, that I am up to any challenge you throw my way."
"Are you?" she mused with a giggle, "I'll have you know despite my good work in potions I am horrid at baking."
"Yet, you always help me," Rose mused.
"Mum! I'm the designated decorator!"
Rose didn't respond to her, instead she turned to look over at Severus, "So, Severus, have you ever made holiday biscuits before?"
Severus shook his head. "No, I haven't," he admitted, "but, I don't think it will be too much different than potions."
"I'm not too sure great potion skills delegate baking skills. But there is no need to worry, dear. We'll show you the ropes," she said, her tone gentle and encouraging.
Lily grinned mischievously, nudging Severus with her elbow. "Don't worry, Sev. You'll be a pro in no time," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes playfully in response. He glanced over at the array of ingredients laid out on the counter, it seemed simple enough.
Together, Rose and Severus set to work, mixing and rolling out dough. Lily took care of shaping them into festive shapes and getting them into the oven. Despite his initial misgivings, Severus found himself enjoying the process. Something was soothing about the repetitive motions of kneading the dough, the sweet smell of the ingredients filling the air, and the easy banter between him, Lily, and her mother.
"I've always loved this time of year," Rose mused, watching Severus carefully press some dough into a tiny holly-leaf mould. "It's the only time the world seems to slow down, right? People are just a bit kinder, a bit more thoughtful."
Severus glanced up at her, his expression contemplative. "I suppose it's nice," he allowed, "but I've never really understood the whole 'peace on Earth, goodwill towards men' thing. It seems like that's about as likely as a Chaser winning a chess game."
Lily began to giggle at the image of the Gryffindors' Chaser James Potter trying to win a game of chess; she had seen him lose to Remus countless times. Rose on the other hand just gave a slightly confused look at the wizarding terminology, not much of a fan of Rugby and didn't have an interest in Quidditch to know the positions.
"Oh, come on, Sev," Lily finally settled on saying, "you can't tell me you haven't felt it, even a little. The way people take the time to just stop and help someone else during the holidays."
Severus pondered this for a moment, holding back the sharp reply that hovered on the tip of his tongue. It was a familiar scenario: people lending a hand during the holiday season, only to overlook one another for the rest of the year. The inconsistency reeked of hypocrisy. But, he couldn't deny that there had been moments over the years where someone had gone out of their way to make his life a little easier, a little less lonely. He could name all of them on both hands and two of those individuals happened to be in the kitchen with him, hearing their laughter fill the kitchen, it was hard not to feel a twinge of warmth in his chest.
"You know, Severus," Rose started as she slid the cookies into the oven, "maybe it's just about folks remembering we're all in this together. Even in the darkest times, there is a light shining when someone extends a hand to another, even if it's just for a little while."
Severus raised an eyebrow at her, her words similar to something that Albus Dumbledore would say. There was truth in what she said, he supposed. Despite his best efforts to deny it, there had been moments in his life where someone else's kindness had made all the difference. But there had been so much malice and contempt that tended to drown it out, he wasn't used to kindness without an ulterior motive.
"Perhaps," he conceded, though he wanted to argue that most people only remember that 'we're all in this together' when it's convenient for them.
Rose turned from the oven, regarding Severus with an amused expression. "So, you're admitting that there might be a tiny bit of goodness left in the world?"
"Maybe," Severus allowed, "but it's nice to believe in something, isn't it?"
"Absolutely!" Rose exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "It's what keeps us moving forward, even when times are tough. And it's even better when you can share those moments with folks you care about."
Lily coughed softly, shooting Severus a sympathetic look, knowing his family situation wasn't always ideal.
Rose paused, considering her words carefully, then glanced at Severus. "So, I was thinking," she began tentatively, "would you like to join us for our family Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow?"
Severus's eyebrow arched in surprise. He had never been part of the Evans family's Christmas festivities before, and he wasn't quite sure how to react. He glanced at Lily, who offered him a reassuring smile.
"Absolutely, you should bring your mother along," Rose continued, her tone gentle. "Especially after your father's passing, I'm sure you both could use some company."
"And we can watch the London Symphony play in Hyde Park on the telly! They do it every year on Christmas Eve!" Lily gushed, ignoring the gentle atmosphere her mother was trying to emulate.
Severus hesitated. It was true that his mother didn't have anyone else, but the thought of spending Christmas with the Evans family gave him pause. They were all so... cheerful. He wasn't accustomed to that level of happiness, and he wasn't sure he knew how to navigate it. He doubted if his mother did either.
"I'll... talk to her about it. Thank you for the invitation," Severus finally replied, taking a seat at the table beside Lily as they waited for the last batch of cookies to finish baking. Uncertain if it was the right decision, he couldn't deny the warmth he felt from being included. It felt like a small gesture of kindness.
The issue was that he had been actively avoiding his mother, and surprising her with this would probably get him jinxed out the door. After their bitter fights, he had no idea how to even approach her.
Rose smiled at him, her expression understanding. "Take your time. We'd love to have you both. The more the merrier, as they say."
Severus nodded, still uncertain. He glanced at Lily, who gave him a small encouraging smile. He knew she would want him to go if only to make sure his mother wasn't alone on Christmas Eve. Sighing, he decided that he would talk to his mother about it later. There was no harm in giving them a chance to spend time with the Evanses. It might be nice for her, he thought.
After the cookies cooled, Severus helped Rose clean up the kitchen, washing the dishes and putting away the ingredients. As they worked side by side, he found himself enjoying her company more than he expected. Lily was enthusiastically decorating the cookies.
"So, what are your plans for Christmas Day?" Rose asked as she rinsed a pan.
"Well, I'm not sure what my mother has in mind," Severus admitted. "We usually spend it quietly, just the two of us."
Rose nodded. "That sounds nice, Christmas here is always chaotic. Petunia acts like her knickers are in a twist because Lily and Harry love to act like it's their very first Christmas."
"Hey! Daddy and I are just enthusiastic, okay?" Lily defended.
Severus couldn't help the whiplash he felt upon hearing the name Harry; it had completely slipped his mind that Lily's father shared the same name as her son. "I believe it," he managed to say, though he spluttered slightly when Lily slapped him on the back with a glare.
"You're lucky I like you, Sev," she teased.
Severus rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had to admit, he was enjoying his time with the Evanses. Despite their chaos, there was a warmth and genuine happiness that he hadn't experienced in a long time. It was almost... comforting.
He had meant to ask his mother the same day he came back with a plate of the cookies they had made, but all that had been exchanged between his mother and him was quick pleasantries before he was ignored for the rest of the day.
He supposed he deserved it for being absent the past few days, but her silent treatment continued into the next day.
Severus found himself nervously pacing in the dimly lit kitchen, worrying about how his mother would react to the invitation. He had been putting off asking his mum about going to the Evanses' house for Christmas Eve dinner until the last possible moment because of her silent treatment. The recent fight between them still lingered unresolved.
He hoped that springing the invitation on her now might catch her off guard, and soften her resistance before she had time to refuse outright.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Severus finally approached his mum in the living room, who was quietly reading by the fire, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Mum," he began tentatively and hoped she wasn't going to ignore him. "I was thinking... maybe we could... go to the Evanses' tonight for their Christmas Eve dinner? They invited us."
Eileen Snape looked up from her book, her expression shifting from mild surprise to a guarded reservation. She set her book down carefully on the side table, fixing her son with a steady gaze.
"Tonight?" she responded, her tone cool and measured. "After everything that's happened between us?"
Severus swallowed hard, feeling the sting of her disapproval. He had hoped for a different reaction, perhaps a flicker of willingness to mend fences. Instead, he found himself faced with her restrained anger.
"I... I thought it might be a good idea," he faltered, his words stumbling over each other. "To spend time with them, try and feel cheerful. Especially after…"
Eileen's eyes narrowed slightly, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "After what, Severus?" she cut in, her voice tinged with frustration. "After the fight we had? After the things you said to me? You haven't apologised for the things you said."
Severus felt a surge of defensiveness rise within him, his own frustration bubbling up. "I'm sorry, okay?" he snapped, his tone sharper than intended. "I messed up, but that doesn't mean-"
His mum shook her head slowly and held up her hand to cut his speech short, disappointment etched on her features. "Springing this on me now, after everything," she sighed, her voice tinged with resignation. "It's just not fair, Severus. It's rude and thoughtless."
Severus's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. "I'm trying here, Mum," he insisted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I thought maybe this dinner could... could help us. But if you're just going to throw it back in my face..."
"You never listen, Severus," Eileen retorted, her voice trembling slightly. "You cannot just think we can sweep everything under the rug and expect things to be okay."
"I'm not sweeping anything under the rug! The Evanses just want us to join their holiday dinner. I thought it would be a nice gesture."
"It's just a pity invitation because your father is gone," she spat, her words sharp with resentment. "Did you really think I would accept an invitation when you don't even have the decency to apologise to me?"
"Then where is my apology?!" Severus argued back, his frustration boiling over. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and unforgiving—"
His mum's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Stubborn? As if you aren't cut from the same cloth as me. But you refuse to admit when you're wrong. That's all your father in you. Are you going to raise your hand to me next?"
The mention of his father hit Severus like a physical blow. He clenched his fists, struggling to control his rising anger. "Don't you DARE bring him into this, I am not like that man!"
"But it's always about you, isn't it?" she fired back, her voice rising in frustration. "You never consider how your actions affect others. You never acknowledge how much your words hurt."
Severus shook his head vehemently, his chest heaving with pent-up emotion. "No. NO!" he burst out, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't you dare accuse me of that. I am never not thinking about how my actions and words affect people."
Eileen's face hardened, her gaze steady and unyielding. "Actions speak louder than words, Severus," she said bitterly. "If you truly think about how your words affect others you would be more kind, but that isn't how you are, is it? You're still the same angry, stubborn boy I've always known. Just like your father."
Severus recoiled away from her, his heart sinking at her cutting words. They truly had a knack for being able to cut someone deeply with only a few words. Unable to bear to hear any more of her biting retorts, Severus abruptly turned away, storming toward the door. "Forget it," he muttered bitterly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm done trying."
His mum's voice followed him as he stormed out into the cold night air, a mix of anger and sadness. "Severus Tobias Snape! Get your arse back into this house right now!"
But he didn't stop. He needed to be alone to calm himself.
The bitter cold of the night air slapped his face as he hurried down the darkened streets, his long strides eating up the distance between them. His wand held loosely in his hand, hidden within his cloak he had hastily grabbed before running out the door.
The air was crisp and clear tonight, the stars faintly twinkling overhead like diamonds on a velvet blanket. But Severus barely registered any of it. All he could feel was the ache in his chest, the lump in his throat, and the burning anger in his veins.
Damn these hormones, they made it harder to control his shields. He was just so tired, so sick of fighting.
His feet carried him aimlessly, his mind awhirl with thoughts and emotions. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this lost, this alone. He had always prided himself on his independence, on not needing anyone, but now he craved the comfort and understanding of his parents, of his friends.
But he didn't have loving parents and Lily was spending the evening with her happy family, and he was left to face the consequences of his actions, alone.
He was sure she would be disappointed when neither his mother or him showed up for the dinner. She probably thought they'd come to their senses, that they would finally see how wrong they were being. But it was too late for that. He couldn't go back now, not after everything that had happened.
The cold air stung his cheeks as he turned down a particularly dark alleyway, lost in thought. He hugged himself, trying to ward off the chill. And then, as if a sign from fate, he found himself standing in front of the oldest church in Cokeworth.
He watched from a distance as the church opened its doors to the homeless, inviting them in for the night. They would be fed and in warm beds tonight, but in a few days time they would be back out onto the streets. It was a temporary solution to a much larger problem. He wondered how many of them had families who didn't want them, who had given up on them. He knew what it was like to feel unwanted, unloved.
The wind picked up, sending a shiver down his spine, and Severus drew his cloak tighter around himself. His fingers ached with cold, and he longed for the warmth of a fire.
He hesitated for a moment as he watched the last person he ushered inside and the doors closed, then forced himself to approach the church. And then he thought of his mother's words, and he couldn't help but feel a stab of shame. Severus loved his mother despite all her shortcomings.
Why couldn't she do the same for him?
Maybe he should go in, he thought. Maybe this was his chance to have a warm bed for the night. But before he could make up his mind, he lost his traction on the frozen ground and tumbled forward. His wand slipped from his grasp, skidding across the icy cobblestones.
As he struggled to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he saw a spark fly up into the night sky, illuminating the dark clouds overhead. It was as if fate was mocking him, taunting him with his own weakness.
He growled softly as he sat up and reached for his wand. Picking it up he held it close as he stumbled to his feet. "I'm acting just like the Potter boy," he muttered to himself, running a hand down his face.
The sound of the church bell ringing out into the night caused him to look up, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked, thinking he must be seeing things, when he realised that the Knight Bus was parked just a few inches from him. The doors opened with a squeak and a figure leaned out.
"You called?" the driver called, her bushy, mismatched eyebrows raised in question. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here on Christmas Eve? And why did you call the Knight Bus?"
"What? I didn't–" he started, but cut himself off, realising the sparks from his wand must have signalled the bus. It had to have also alerted the ministry through the trace. He needed to vacate the immediate area.
"It's a long story," he grumbled, rubbing his arms to ward off the cold. "Look, I'm sorry for calling you, I did not mean to..."
The driver rolled her eyes. "Obviously it wasn't for nothing, hop in or not," she said, waving him forward. "Why would I care?"
Severus hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But then, with a resigned sigh, he decided that if he was going to be as reckless as Harry Potter, he might as well fully commit. Steeling himself, he climbed aboard the brightly coloured Knight Bus. The interior was decorated with garlands of holly and mistletoe festooned around the seats. The decorations were almost aggressively festive, and their garishness was nauseatingly cheerful.
"Make it quick. I'm on a tight schedule tonight. And you know how it is, always working the holidays..." she muttered under her breath.
He opened his mouth, hesitating for a moment as he wracked his brain for a destination. An inexplicable feeling tugged at him. "London," he finally declared.
As the Knight Bus pulled away from the church, Severus flew backwards into a seat. He grabbed onto the bars as he gasped in surprise. He quickly looked out the window, watching the church fade into the distance in mere seconds.
His gaze drifted to his lap immediately, trying to keep from sicking up inside the bus as they were pulled in every direction. Severus couldn't help but feel the irony of his situation. Here he was, fleeing from his mother's house on Christmas Eve, running away from the very thing he had claimed to be tired of fighting for; love and acceptance.
The Knight Bus driver, a woman with her oddly bushy-shaped eyebrows and a penchant for holiday cheer turned to him with a knowing smile. "Ah, you're going to Diagon Alley, are you?" She didn't wait for a response before turning back to the road, which was more of a series of twists and turns than a straight path.
The ride was as chaotic as ever, with the bus weaving through the air, narrowly missing chimneys and birds that seemed to be playing chicken with the magical vehicle. Severus clutched the bars of his seat, his knuckles turning white as he held on for dear life. He was grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, but the motion was making his stomach churn.
When they finally pulled to a stop, the driver looked back at him expectantly. "Fare's two sickles," she said, holding out a hand.
Severus's heart sank. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled-up bit of parchment with a list of ingredients for the treats he and Rose had made. Where was his pouch of money?
"I think I forgot –" he started but stopped short when he found his pouch of coins and pulled out two sickles.
"Ah, good," the driver said with a nod, taking the money and stuffing it into her apron. "Well, have a good night, and be careful out there. You know where to find us if you need a ride back. And try and find a bit of holiday cheer, won't you?" she added with a wink.
Before Severus could muster a response, she practically shoved him out of the bus. He stumbled onto the pavement, his vision swirling from the abrupt ejection. He nearly fell to his knees as the world spun around him, but he managed to steady himself. The bus vanished in a flash with a powerful gust of wind that left him disoriented.
Catching himself against a nearby stone wall, Severus took a moment to gather his bearings. The frigid air bit at his cheeks as he looked around, but there was no trace of the bus. It was as if the Knight Bus had never been there, leaving him alone in the dimly lit street of London.
Severus stood there for a moment, debating what to do next. The cold night air nipped at his skin, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had acted impulsively. Was coming to London really the right choice? He considered calling back the Knight Bus but then the trace would alert the ministry he had managed to get himself to London.
As he walked down the street, weighing his options, he was nearly pushed out of the way by an excited group of adults. He glared at them, but they paid him no mind. No one would have dared to try and push him out of the way as an adult, but he had a formidable presence even in the muggle world.
They were chattering about the holiday symphony happening on the next street over and Severus' ears perked up. He remembered how Lily had gushed just yesterday about watching the holiday symphony on the telly.
Intrigued and drawn by the memory of Lily's enthusiasm, Severus decided to check it out. He followed the sound of cheerful voices and festive chatter.
The crowd thickened as he approached the next street, the air filled with the sounds of laughter and holiday music. Bright lights adorned the buildings, casting a warm glow over the gathered spectators. Severus' heart pounded with a mixture of nerves from the large crowds of people as he made his way towards the event, hoping that somehow, this night would bring him closer to the happiness he had been missing.
Severus edged his way through the throng of people, drawn toward the heart of the festive gathering. The holiday symphony began to play, the rich, harmonious notes filling the air and enveloping the crowd in a sense of warmth and unity. He closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over him, each note calming his emotions. For a brief moment, he felt a sense of peace.
But the tranquillity was shattered in an instant. A sudden, deafening explosion rang out, followed by the panicked screams of the crowd. Severus's eyes snapped open, his senses heightened as he took in the chaos unfolding around him.
The explosion was sudden and thunderous, ripping through the peaceful night with a force that seemed to shake the very ground beneath his feet. A brilliant flash of light accompanied the deafening blast, illuminating the dark sky and casting long, jagged shadows across the street. Debris flew in all directions, and the festive decorations were torn apart in an instant, their bright colours replaced by smoke and fire.
The band, which had been in the midst of a particularly stirring piece, was caught entirely off guard. The musicians' fingers froze on their instruments, and the beautiful harmony that had filled the air was replaced by a series of discordant, jarring screeches. The violins let out high-pitched wails as bows were yanked abruptly from strings. The brass section emitted harsh, blaring sounds as the players' lips slipped from their mouthpieces in shock. The drums, which had been providing a steady, rhythmic heartbeat to the music, stopped mid-beat, the last strike hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence.
The woodwinds produced a cacophony of squeaks and squawks as players jerked back in fear, their instruments falling silent one by one. The music, once a unified celebration, now lay in tatters, replaced by the sounds of panic and confusion.
The screams of the crowd rose above the dying notes of the symphony, blending with the crackling of flames and the crashing of shattered glass. People stumbled and pushed past each other in their desperation to escape, their faces contorted in fear and confusion.
Severus stood in the midst of it all, his senses on high alert. His mind raced, and in that instant, everything clicked into place. The reason he had instinctively directed the Knight Bus to London became painfully clear. This was one of the first Death Eater attacks he had forgotten about in the haze of time. The memories rushed back with brutal clarity. This was the first Death Eater attack that had taken place out in the open, a warning to the ministry that they were real and they wouldn't back down.
An instinctual dread made his eyes drift upward. The night sky, previously clear and adorned with the soft glow of holiday lights, was now marred by ominous, swirling clouds. The dark, churning mass began to take form as an eerie green glow emerged. It started as a faint shimmer before quickly intensifying into a sickly, phosphorescent light that bathed the surrounding area in an unsettling hue.
First, the skull took shape, its contours sharp and menacing. From its mouth, a serpent began to uncoil, slithering forth with a slow and deliberate grace.
The Dark Mark was high in the sky for all to see.
The Death Eaters had come.