Cokeworth, England. Spinner's End.
Tobias's laughter died in his throat as he narrowed his eyes, confusion flickering across his face. "What did you say?"
"I'm not afraid of you anymore!" Severus shouted, every word fueled by the anguish and anger that had been bottled up for far too long. He took a shaky step forward, feeling the tremors of pain throughout his body, but he stood firm. "You think you can keep me in this hell? You think I'll let you keep hurting us?"
"Boy, you're delusional," Tobias replied, his voice low and dangerous as he straightened, the beer bottle still clutched in his hand. "You think you can take me on? You're nothing but a pathetic little brat."
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Severus clenched his fists, feeling the warmth of his magic welling up inside him. The power coursing through his veins was both terrifying and exhilarating. He had spent years honing his skills, pouring himself into his studies, even when Tobias mocked him. All that practice, all that frustration—it was finally coming to a head.
"You don't get to call me pathetic!" Severus shouted, the words ripping from his throat. "Not anymore!"
As if responding to his resolve, the room felt charged with energy, the air thick with tension. Severus's heart raced as he recalled the lessons he'd learned in secret, the incantations he'd whispered under his breath, hoping to drown out the chaos around him.
With a flick of his wrist, he imagined the spell forming in his mind, but it wasn't the precise words or wand movements that drove him; it was the fury boiling inside him. He called on that rage, shaping it into something tangible. "Expelliarmus!"
The spell shot from his hand like a bolt of lightning, and for a split second, Severus felt invincible.
Tobias didn't have time to react; the spell hit him squarely in the chest. The beer bottle flew from his hand, shattering against the wall with a loud crash. Tobias staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief as he fought to regain his balance.
Severus took another step forward, emboldened by the moment. "You're not the one in control anymore!"
"You little—" Tobias's face twisted in rage, but Severus was done waiting for his father to lash out again. He couldn't let Tobias regain his footing, couldn't allow him to retaliate.
With every ounce of strength he could muster, Severus reached for another spell. "Avada Kedavra!"
As the words left his mouth, a jet of green light shot across the room, illuminating the darkness. The thunder outside crashed in response, a furious echo of the storm brewing within him.
The moment hung suspended in the air, time slowing as he watched the spell travel toward his father. He felt a strange mix of exhilaration and horror, knowing he was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed.
Unbeknownst to Severus, somewhere across the world, a family gathered around the dinner table paused mid-laughter. They exchanged confused glances as a name on their tapestry dimmed, flickering like a candle about to extinguish. Another name appeared, vibrant and alive, replacing it—a name they had never seen before.
Back in Spinner's End, the spell struck Tobias directly in the chest. For a heartbeat, Severus thought nothing had happened. Then, in a sickening moment, he saw the light drain from his father's eyes, and the realization hit him like a tidal wave.
"No..." Severus gasped, the word barely escaping his lips. His heart raced, panic surging through him as he stumbled backward. He hadn't truly meant to kill. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to protect his mother, not become a murderer.
Tobias's body collapsed to the floor, the weight of it settling like a stone in Severus's gut. The room was silent, save for the patter of rain against the window and the pounding of his heart, which felt like thunder in his ears.
His mother lay motionless, and now his father was gone, too. Severus sank to his knees, the gravity of what he had done crashing over him. He had wanted to escape the pain, to end the torment, but not like this. The thrill of power faded, leaving only emptiness in its wake.
"Why?" he cried out, tears streaming down his face. "Why did it have to come to this?"
In that moment, the house felt like a prison closing in around him. The walls whispered with the ghosts of his childhood, echoing the pain he had always tried to escape. He reached out, shaking his mother gently, willing her to respond, to wake up from this nightmare.
"Mama... please," he pleaded, voice cracking. "I need you. I can't do this alone."
But she remained still, her body cold and lifeless against his trembling hands. The realization settled heavily in his chest: he had lost everything.
His eyes landed on a jagged piece of broken glass nearby, glinting faintly in the dim light. The thought struck him like a whisper in the back of his mind—he could end it. He could stop all this pain, join his mother wherever she had gone. Maybe then, he'd feel her arms around him again, hear her gentle voice. The constant agony, the unbearable loneliness—it would finally be over. For once in his life, Severus Snape would know what peace felt like.
His hand began to inch toward the glass, his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else. It would be so easy...
Before his fingers could close around the shard, the front door creaked open. Severus froze, barely able to register the sound through the haze of his despair. Mrs. Johnson, the kind older black lady who lived next door, poked her head in, her expression turning from curious to horrified in an instant.
"Oh, Lord!" she gasped, rushing inside. Her sharp intake of breath seemed to slice through the heavy fog in Severus's mind, snapping him back to reality.
Mrs. Johnson, always the one to bring over a warm pie when things were bad or offer a comforting word when his mother couldn't, stood there in the doorway, taking in the horrible scene. She clutched her chest, her eyes wide with disbelief as they flitted from Tobias's lifeless body to Eileen's crumpled form on the floor.
"Severus, what...?" she started, her voice trembling as she crossed the room toward him, stepping over the broken remnants of the night. "Oh, my God, child, what happened here?"
Severus couldn't respond. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy. The weight of the glass shard still lingered in his hand's memory, a temptation he wasn't sure he had fully banished. Mrs. Johnson knelt beside him, her hands hovering as if she didn't know whether to touch him or his mother.
"We need to call someone... someone to help," she muttered, her voice urgent but soft, like she was trying not to scare him. But Severus barely heard her. His eyes stayed locked on his mother's still form, the reality of her death anchoring him in place.
He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All the anger, the terror, the fight—it had drained from him, leaving behind only emptiness.
"Severus, baby, we need to get you out of here," Mrs. Johnson said gently, finally reaching out to touch his shoulder, her voice filled with the kind of motherly warmth he hadn't felt in years. "You don't need to be here no more. Not like this."
Her words washed over him, but they didn't seem real. Nothing did. He could hear her, but the storm inside him had grown quiet now—too quiet. The temptation of the glass still lingered.
"Come on," Mrs. Johnson coaxed, more forcefully this time. "We'll get you help, alright? This ain't your fault, honey. None of it is. You did all you could, and it's time to let somebody else take over now."
The heaviness in Severus's chest swelled again, but this time, it was accompanied by a quiet surrender. Mrs. Johnson's hands gently pulled him away from his mother, and as she guided him toward the door, he felt the jagged glass slip from his mind, replaced by a numb acceptance.
There was nothing he could do now. Nothing.
As they stepped outside into the rain, Mrs. Johnson kept a steady hand on his back, murmuring soft reassurances. But Severus's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his thoughts swirling with the emptiness of loss. He had wanted so desperately to protect his mother, to change his life, but now...
Now, all he had left was the broken pieces.
He barely made it through Mrs. Johnson's door before the adrenaline that had kept him going vanished, and all the pain crashed into him like a truck. It hit him so hard that he felt his knees buckle beneath him. He vaguely heard Mrs. Johnson scream his name, but the sound was distant, muffled, as though it were coming from underwater. He collapsed onto her living room floor, the world spinning, the sharp sting of every bruise and broken bone finally catching up to him.
Somewhere in the haze, he felt Mrs. Johnson's warm hands brushing through his hair, wiping away stray tears that fell silently down his cheeks. Her words were soft and soothing, but they didn't register. All he could do was lie there, his body too heavy to move, his mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, wrapped in a fragile cocoon of pain and exhaustion.
It couldn't have been too long, though, because soon after, he heard the wail of sirens approaching, growing louder by the second. A knock on the door echoed through the small house, jarring him back into a sliver of awareness. He heard Mrs. Johnson stand up, her voice shaking as she called out, "Come in! He's here!"
Severus tried to move, tried to sit up, but his body refused. Everything hurt—his ribs, his arms, his legs. The deep ache in his back throbbed with each shallow breath he took. He felt like a fragile puppet with its strings cut, barely able to hold himself together. He could hear voices now—men's voices, urgent and full of concern—but they felt far away. A new wave of exhaustion threatened to pull him under again.
"Kid, can you hear me?"
A firm hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him gently. Severus blinked, trying to focus on the blurry figure above him. A paramedic, maybe. He couldn't tell. Everything was swimming in and out of focus.
"Hang in there, we're going to get you out of here," the voice continued, calm but serious. He felt a stretcher being pulled beside him, and hands carefully lifted him onto it. Pain flared in his body, and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to cry out.
"Mrs. Johnson... my mother..." Severus's voice was barely a whisper, rough and broken. His throat burned as the words scraped out, but the paramedic just nodded, his expression unreadable.
"Don't worry, son. We're taking care of everything."
But that wasn't enough. Severus wanted to scream, to tell them that it wasn't okay, that nothing was going to be okay ever again. His mother was gone, and no amount of sirens or kind words could fix that. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating.
As the paramedics wheeled him out of the house, the cool rain splattered on his face, mixing with the tears he couldn't hold back anymore. The world outside seemed to move in slow motion—the flashing lights of the ambulance, the distant murmur of voices, the familiar streets of Spinner's End shrouded in the downpour.
Somewhere in the chaos, he caught a glimpse of the house he'd left behind—his home, the place where everything had been ripped away from him. And as the stretcher was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Severus knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
He had been in the hospital for three days. Three long, painful days.
In that time, he had undergone an 18-hour surgery to repair the extensive damage his father had inflicted on him. His body was a patchwork of cuts, bruises, and bandages, barely held together by Muggle medicine. They had him on soft foods, which meant a steady diet of bland soup and mashed potatoes, and the ever-present, tasteless hospital Jell-O. But at least Mrs. Johnson had come through for him, sneaking in some homemade potato soup that tasted like heaven compared to everything else.
Now, though, he was waiting. Waiting for the police to show up for their questioning. They'd been in and out, asking small details when he was coherent, but this next visit was supposed to be the official statement. Severus didn't know what he was going to tell them, or even if he could talk about it without feeling that sickening lurch in his stomach again. He should probably be thankful that Mrs. Johnson had stayed with him when she could, offering her quiet comfort, but that wouldn't stop the inevitable questions.
As he sat in his hospital bed, flipping through a Muggle magazine about a famous couple getting divorced—it was strangely entertaining, the kind of drama he could lose himself in, even for a moment—he heard the door to his room creak open.
He looked up, expecting to see the police, bracing himself for their questions. But instead, his eyes widened in surprise.
Standing in the doorway was Rose Evans—Lily's mother.
She didn't say anything at first. Severus barely had time to process why she was there before she crossed the room in a few swift steps. Before he could even think of what to say, she enveloped him in her arms, pulling him against her chest.
The embrace was warm, familiar, yet utterly unexpected. Her arms were strong, comforting, as if she were trying to protect him from everything that had already happened. Severus froze for a moment, his body rigid from the pain and the shock of her presence. But then, slowly, he relaxed against her, letting himself sink into the warmth of her hug, his face pressed against her shoulder.
"Severus," she whispered softly, her voice filled with an aching sadness. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I'm so, so sorry."
Her words broke something inside him. He had been holding everything in for days, trying to stay strong, trying not to think too much, but hearing the raw emotion in Rose's voice—someone who cared about him, someone who wasn't there to hurt him or question him—was too much. His chest tightened, and he felt the tears well up in his eyes before he could stop them.
"I couldn't save her..." he croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His throat burned as the words tumbled out, rough and broken. "I couldn't... I—"
"Hush, now." Rose's hand stroked through his hair gently, soothing him like a mother would. "None of this is your fault, Severus. None of it. You did everything you could, more than anyone should ever have to."
He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that there was nothing more he could've done, that it wasn't his fault his mother was dead. But the guilt weighed so heavily on him, pulling him down into a dark, suffocating pit.
"You don't understand," Severus muttered, his voice choked with the tears that now streamed freely down his face. "I couldn't stop him. I couldn't—" His breath hitched. "I should've been stronger."
Rose pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her hands cupping his face as she wiped away his tears. Her expression was full of sorrow, but also determination.
"You are strong, Severus," she said firmly, her voice steady. "You are stronger than you know. And none of this—none of this—is on you."
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. His body ached, his heart hurt, and the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on him. But Rose's words, her presence, offered a small flicker of comfort.
For a moment, they just sat there, Rose holding him, as if trying to shield him from the world.
Eventually, she spoke again, her voice gentle. "You're coming home with me. We'll take care of you, Severus. You don't have to go through this alone."
Severus blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected anyone to offer him a place, especially not Rose Evans. But there was something in her eyes that told him she meant it.
"I don't... I don't want to be a burden..." he mumbled, his voice weak.
"You're not a burden," Rose said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're family. We'll take care of you, love."
The word "family" hit him harder than any punch Tobias had ever thrown. He hadn't felt like he had a family in years.
Severus's stomach twisted as the tension in the room grew thicker. His eyes darted between the officers and the two women now standing protectively at either side of his bed. He wanted to understand why Rose Evans, of all people, was here, but he didn't have the strength to ask. His body still ached from the surgeries, the bruises, and the raw emotional wounds.
"Why are the police here?" Mrs. Evans asked, her voice barely audible above the quiet beeps of the hospital machines. He glanced at Mrs. Evans, who took a step forward, placing herself slightly between him and the officers.
"Can't you see he's been through enough?" Rose's voice was sharp, her expression hard as she glared at the officers. It was strange to see her so protective of him—he'd never imagined someone like her standing up for him, least of all after everything that had happened between him and Lily.
The officer sighed, clearly accustomed to dealing with distressed relatives but not to being met with such fierce resistance. "Ma'am, we understand your concern, but we have to follow protocol. The sooner we get his statement, the sooner we can proceed with the investigation. It's in his best interest."
Mrs. Johnson, who had been watching silently, finally spoke up, her voice calm but firm. "Boy's been through hell. Ain't right for you to come questioning him while he's still recovering."
Severus could barely keep up with the exchange. His focus remained on the officers as they nodded to the other members of their team, pulling up chairs and settling in. They weren't going to leave until they got what they came for.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the weight of what he was about to relive. His eyes shifted between Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Evans, both standing like sentinels on either side of him, ready to shield him from the world. But deep down, Severus knew that no one could protect him from this—not anymore. He had to face it. He had to tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt.
"Let's just get this over with," he muttered, his voice rough and barely above a whisper as he stared at the officers.
The lead officer nodded, his expression softening as he opened a small notebook and clicked his pen. "We'll make this as quick as we can," he said, though Severus doubted anything about this would feel quick or painless.
"Tell us what happened that night," the officer began, his voice calm, almost coaxing. "Take your time."
Severus took a deep breath, his hands gripping the scratchy hospital blanket, knuckles white as he fought to keep his composure. The memories came flooding back, crashing into him like tidal waves. His father's shouting, the crash of glass, his mother's screams, the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor...
"It started like any other night," Severus began, his voice hollow. "I came home from school, Father was drunk. Mum tried to keep him calm, but... it never worked. He started yelling, throwing things. It got worse. It always did."
His voice wavered, but he forced himself to keep going. He had to get it out.
"I tried to stop him this time. I grabbed my w-..piece of wood from outside, but... he took it. He snapped it. I couldn't... I couldn't protect her." His throat closed up for a moment as he quickly corrected himself, the words sticking as the memory of his shattered wand and his mother's pleading face filled his mind.
Mrs. Evans put a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing lightly in silent support. Mrs. Johnson stood silently, her eyes never leaving the officers.
The officer gave Severus a moment before urging him forward. "What happened after that, Severus?"
Severus's breath hitched. "He... he hit me. Again and again, and again. I couldn't get back up. Then I heard it—heard her hit the floor. I couldn't move. I couldn't—" His voice cracked, and for a second, he thought he might break down right then and there, but he couldn't afford to. He had to finish this. "She didn't get back up."
The room was so quiet that the faint beeping of the hospital machines seemed deafening. The officer jotted down notes but stayed silent, letting Severus gather himself.
"And your father?" the officer finally asked, his voice barely a whisper now.
Severus felt his heart race. "He just... stood there. Like he didn't care. He kicked her body and said she was dead. Like it was nothing."
A cold rage stirred deep within him, the anger he'd felt that night surging back to the surface. He clenched his fists, staring at the floor. "I wanted to kill him. I tried. I really did."
The officers exchanged glances, but none of them spoke.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears that burned at the corners. "I couldn't save her," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I couldn't save her."
The room was heavy with silence, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. Finally, one of the officers broke the stillness, his voice steady but cautious. "Your father was found dead as well, Severus. Was that your doing?"
Severus froze, his mind racing. How could he explain the curse in a room full of Muggles? Saying he killed his father with magic would get him thrown into a psych ward, locked away as something worse than just a broken boy. He had no choice but to lie.
Keeping his head low, he spoke softly, choosing his words carefully. "No... it wasn't me." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I was... I was crying over my mum when it happened. He was drinking, like he always did. He spit out his beer and collapsed. I thought he'd just passed out from drinking again—he did that a lot. He drank every day for... for as long as I can remember."
The officer scribbled something down in his notebook, glancing at the others before looking back at Severus. "So, you're saying he collapsed on his own?"
Severus nodded, still not daring to look up. "Yeah. I didn't touch him after that. I couldn't even move."
Mrs. Evans shifted beside him, her hand still resting protectively on his arm. Mrs. Johnson was silent but her presence alone felt like a shield between Severus and the harsh reality that had shattered his world.
The officers exchanged looks, clearly piecing things together, but not pushing any harder for the truth. One of them cleared his throat and stood up. "Thank you, Severus. We'll be in touch if we need any more information. For now, try to rest."
Severus nodded weakly, the exhaustion making his limbs feel heavier by the second. As the officers began to file out, Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Johnson stayed by his side, their presence a small comfort amidst the chaos. But just before the door could close, one of the officers paused, turning back to Severus, making the others stop as well.
"Hey, kid," the officer called, voice gruff but not unkind. "Where you going now? Got any living relatives?"
Severus shook his head, the motion sluggish. "No... not that I know of."
Mrs. Evans immediately stepped forward, her tone sharp with protective fierceness. "Severus will be living with me and my family from now on."
The officers exchanged glances. One of them raised an eyebrow. "Are you blood?"
Mrs. Evans blinked, her eyes narrowing. "No, but I see no reason why that should—"
"Sorry, ma'am," the officer interrupted, holding up a hand. "He'll need to stay with blood relatives unless you're willing to adopt him."
The air in the room became tense. Mrs. Evans' grip on Severus' arm tightened, and Severus felt a fresh wave of panic building in his chest. Adoption? He hadn't even thought about what came next. He didn't know where he belonged anymore, and the idea of being a burden to anyone, especially the Evans family, made him feel sick.
The second officer, who had been quietly flipping through his file, suddenly spoke up. "Wait, Boss. It says here the kid's got some family on his mother's side. Russians."
Everyone froze.
"Russians?" Severus croaked, his voice hoarse. His mind scrambled, trying to recall any mention of family from his mother. She had rarely spoken about her past, and he had always assumed there was no one else. No one who cared, at least.
Mrs. Evans frowned deeply, looking between Severus and the officers. "His mother never mentioned any Russian relatives. Are you sure about that?"
The officer flipped the file around to show her. "It's right here. It looks like they're from some rural place... but there's definitely living family."
Severus stared blankly, a no-name family his mother rarely spoke of. His mother had mentioned it once, but it had been in passing—something about his distant relatives who were... dangerous.
Mrs. Evans seemed to hesitate, her face pinched with concern. "What kind of family are we talking about?"
The officer shrugged. "Can't say for sure, ma'am. But they're the kid's next of kin."
Severus felt the walls closing in. He couldn't picture it—living with strangers in a foreign place, especially if they were anything like his father. But before he could protest, Mrs. Evans spoke up again, her voice firm.
"I don't care if they're blood. Severus is coming home with me. I'm not letting him go to people he's never known." Mrs. Evans turned to Severus, her expression softening. "Do you want to live with them, Severus?"
Severus wanted to say no, to stay with Mrs. Evans, but the exhaustion and confusion clouded his thoughts. The word that left his mouth wasn't the one he meant. "Yes."
The room froze.
Mrs. Evans spun around, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Yes? No! Severus, you don't know these people! They could be crazy, killers, or—" Her voice rose in panic, but one of the officers stepped forward, raising his hand in a calm, authoritative gesture.
"Ma'am, please calm down, or we'll be forced to remove you from the room," the officer said, his voice firm but measured. He turned his gaze back to Severus, his expression neutral. "If the kid wants to live with them, then you can't stop him."
Severus barely registered the officer's words. The weight of his decision hung over him like a dark cloud, one he couldn't escape. He could hear Mrs. Evans arguing with the officers, her voice growing more frantic, but it felt distant—like it was happening in another room. His body, already weak, was beginning to shut down from the stress and exhaustion.
Mrs. Johnson, standing quietly beside him, seemed to sense it. She reached out, her warm, weathered hand cupping his cheek. Her voice was soft, a comforting whisper. "Baby, you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to. You're tired, I know. But think about what you really want, not what you feel you have to say. We're here for you."
Her gentle words pierced through the fog in his mind. Severus blinked up at her, his vision blurry from fatigue. He wanted to say he didn't want to go with these strangers. He wanted to stay with Mrs. Johnson—where it felt safe, even if he didn't understand why they were so willing to help him.
"I... I don't know," Severus whispered, his voice barely audible.
Mrs. Evans turned back to him, her eyes full of worry and desperation. "Severus, it's okay. You can stay with us. You don't have to make this decision right now."
The officer cleared his throat. "He'll need to make a decision soon, ma'am. But we can give him a little more time." He gestured to his colleagues, and they began to gather their things. "We'll be back tomorrow. You should sleep on it, kid."
As the officers left, Mrs. Evans knelt beside Severus' bed, her hand gently resting on his. "Severus, I don't want you to feel like you have to do this. Whatever you're feeling, we'll work it out. I promise."
Severus, overwhelmed and drained, closed his eyes. He didn't have the strength to reply. His mind was spinning with the weight of everything that had happened—the loss of his mother, the looming presence of distant relatives he didn't know, and the sudden kindness from these two women.
He didn't know what to do, but for the moment, he let the quiet of the room and the gentle touches of the women beside him be enough.