Cokeworth, England. Spinner's End.

Death was the only true friend Severus Snape could count on.

He'd been threatened with death far too many times, but it never felt like a threat or something to fear. There was a dark comfort in the notion that it might release him from his burdens.

When his father used to threaten to kill him, Severus had trembled with fear, his heart racing in dread of the unknown. But as the years wore on, he began to ask himself, Why? Why should he fear the one thing that could take him away from the pain, the humiliation, the relentless cruelty of life? The thought of death became less terrifying and more enticing—a door that could lead to peace.

He often found himself staring into the mirror, scrutinizing the boy he saw reflected back. Dark hair hung like a curtain around his gaunt face, and his eyes, though deep-set, flickered with a hint of defiance. In that reflection, he saw a boy who had survived too much yet learned to endure it all with a quiet resignation.

Looking up through the dreary rain, Severus sighed as he made his way 'home.' His fifth year at Hogwarts had ended, but the promise of summer offered little solace. Not only had he lost his only friend, but he had also lost any sense of hope that one day he and his mother would escape the suffocating confines of Spinner's End to live a normal life.

With each step, he dragged his trunk across the rain-soaked pavement, the weight of his belongings a physical reminder of his burdens. Memories of his mother flooded his mind—her gentle smile, the way her eyes lit up when he succeeded in even the smallest of tasks, and the warmth of her presence that always felt like a fleeting dream. He could almost picture her sitting at the kitchen table, waiting anxiously for him to arrive, ready to rush him upstairs before Tobias could catch a glimpse of him.

He shivered at the thought of his father. Tobias Snape had always loomed large in his life, a figure of anger and disappointment. He could imagine the man sprawled on the couch, nursing a bottle of beer, his temper ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. The last thing Severus wanted was to endure another of his father's rages after a long year filled with enough pain.

As Severus approached the door of their small home, a familiar sense of dread wrapped around him like a tightening noose. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the worn handle, listening intently for any sign of life within. The house was unnervingly silent, the kind of stillness that always preceded the worst moments—a fragile calm before the inevitable storm.

His breath caught in his throat as he steeled himself, pushing the door open just a crack.

The silence shattered.

The crash of breaking glass sent a jolt through him, followed by his mother's panicked voice, pleading for mercy. "Tobias, please—don't!"

Then came the roar, the voice he despised more than anything. "You fucking bitch!"

Severus froze, every muscle in his body locking into place as his father's fury filled the air. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears, yet his mind remained eerily focused, detached almost, as if he'd experienced this scenario far too many times to be shocked anymore. He gripped his wand tightly in his pocket, fingers trembling with the conflicting urges to intervene or stay hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, he imagined simply walking away—disappearing into the night and never returning to this hell. But he couldn't leave her. His mother, the only person who had ever shown him true affection, was still in there. He couldn't abandon her, even though the fear gnawed at him, telling him there was little he could do.

Stepping inside, Severus closed the door softly behind him, the sound lost beneath the rising cacophony of his father's anger. His feet moved on instinct, drawing him towards the kitchen where the argument raged. The sharp sting of alcohol hung in the air, mingling with the familiar dampness of Spinner's End. The closer he got, the louder his mother's sobs became, a sound that pierced him deeper than any curse ever could.

"Please, Tobias—enough. Just... enough!" Eileen's voice cracked, desperate but firm, as though she still held onto some small shred of hope that her words might reach the man she once loved.

Severus reached the doorway and stopped, his eyes taking in the chaotic scene before him. The kitchen was a wreck—shattered glass glistened on the floor, a half-empty bottle of whiskey dripping onto the counter. His mother stood near the stove, her face pale and drawn, while Tobias loomed over her, his face contorted with rage. One wrong word from her, Severus knew, and that rage would explode into violence.

"Get upstairs!" Tobias growled, turning toward the sound of the door creaking under Severus's weight. His father's eyes landed on him, narrowing with disgust.

Severus didn't move. His hand tightened around his wand, hidden beneath his school robes, but he said nothing. He simply stared at his father with a blank, hardened expression. This had happened too many times, and he knew better than to argue. Words did nothing with Tobias.

"Go on then!" Tobias barked, stepping toward him.

Eileen moved quickly, stepping between them, her frail frame trembling but determined. "He just got home. Leave him alone, Tobias."

The man's attention shifted back to his wife, and without warning, his hand lashed out, striking her across the face. She stumbled, her hand clutching the side of the table for support, tears welling in her eyes but refusing to fall.

Severus's blood boiled. His hand moved instinctively, pulling his wand from his robes and pointing it directly at his father. "Don't touch her again."

The room fell silent.

Tobias, caught off guard by the wand, turned slowly, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "Put that thing away, boy," he growled, his voice low and threatening, his gaze locked on Severus's trembling hand.

Severus shook his head, his breath uneven, fingers visibly shaking as he gripped his wand tighter. "No..." he stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. "L-Leave my mother alone!" The words came out louder than he intended, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

Tobias took a step forward, his face twisted in a sneer. "You think you're some kind of hero now? Waving that stick around like it'll do something?" He glanced at Eileen, his lip curling in contempt. "Useless—just like her."

Severus's chest tightened, fury bubbling just beneath his skin. The words sliced through him like knives, each one landing with a precision that only years of hatred could hone. His wand hand wavered, but his resolve held firm. "I mean it," he whispered, though his voice faltered slightly. "I'll—"

"You'll what?" Tobias interrupted, taking another menacing step toward him. "You'll hex your own father? Go on, then. Do it."

Severus's grip tightened. For a split second, the thought crossed his mind—what if he did? What if he used his magic to finally put an end to the years of torment, the constant fear, the cruelty that had shaped his life? He could end it all right now.

"Sectu—"

The incantation barely left his lips when Tobias lunged forward with a speed Severus had never seen from the man before. His father, in his drunken stupor, moved with a startling, reckless agility and yanked the wand from Severus's hand before the spell could take shape.

"You really thought, didn't you?" Tobias sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol as he waved the wand mockingly in front of Severus's face. Severus stood frozen in shock, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened.

"Guess you won't be needing this, huh?" Tobias jeered, his voice dripping with malicious glee.

Severus's heart plummeted as he watched his father's hands twist around the fragile wood. "No!" he shouted, the word barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears. He lunged forward, but it was too late.

With a sickening crack, Tobias snapped the wand in two, the faintest puff of silver smoke curling from its splintered core before it disappeared into the damp air, carried away by the wind.

Severus stared, his mouth half-open, a hollow, disbelieving numbness spreading through him. His wand—his only lifeline, the only thing that gave him even the smallest sense of power in this wretched house—was gone. Just like that.

Tobias tossed the broken pieces at Severus's feet, sneering down at him. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head with a mixture of disgust and amusement. "All that nonsense about magic, and look where it gets you. Nothing but a useless freak."

The words didn't sting this time. Severus's mind was too consumed by the shattered remnants of his wand on the floor, the symbol of everything that made him different, everything that had allowed him to survive Hogwarts and this house. Now, it lay in ruins at his feet, and with it, any illusion he had left of control over his life.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the room was the rain beating against the windows, a relentless drumming that echoed the chaotic storm inside him. Tobias turned away, his interest in the broken boy before him already waning.

"Clean this mess up," Tobias grunted over his shoulder, staggering back toward the living room. "And stay out of my way."

Severus didn't move. He couldn't. His eyes remained locked on the pieces of his wand, his chest tight with the suffocating weight of hopelessness. He had nothing left. No defense, no protection. Nothing.

His mother's soft sobs broke through the silence, pulling him out of his trance. Eileen sat slumped in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes red and swollen as she watched her son with a sorrow that seemed to seep from her very soul.

Severus bent down slowly, picking up the broken halves of his wand with trembling hands. His mother didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort him. What could she say? What comfort could there be when everything he had left was shattered beyond repair?

He rose to his feet, the broken wand still clutched tightly in his hand. "Mum," he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely audible over the rain.

She looked at him, her expression hollow, drained of the strength she used to carry, as if every part of her had given up long ago.

"I—I'll fix this," Severus muttered, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. "I'll get another one. I'll... I'll make things better. Somehow."

But Eileen didn't respond. She simply closed her eyes, as if retreating into a place where hope had long since ceased to exist.

Severus felt the weight of the house pressing down on him—the oppressive air, the lingering stench of alcohol, the muffled screams from years past that seemed to echo in every corner. This wasn't a home. It was a prison, and Severus knew, deep down, that there was no escape from it. Not for him. Not for his mother.

Without another word, Severus turned and walked out of the room, leaving the broken pieces of his life behind him. He couldn't fix this. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

"Bitch! Stop fuckin' crying and make me dinner!"

Severus froze mid-step, his foot hovering over the next stair before lowering it slowly. His father's voice, dripping with venom, echoed through the house like nails scraping across glass. He turned his head, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see Tobias in the kitchen, waving an empty bottle and yelling at his mother, who was curled up, her face hidden by her hands, still quietly sobbing.

Something inside Severus snapped.

All the anger, the humiliation, the helplessness he'd buried for years—his mother's tear-streaked face, the constant fear, every bruise he had learned to hide, and every wound he had taught himself to heal—it all surged to the surface like an uncontrollable storm.

Before he could stop himself, his hands balled into fists, and he spun around, his heart pounding in his ears. He barely registered the words spilling from his mouth.

"Get away from her, you asshole!" Severus shouted, his voice thick with rage. Without a second thought, he charged at Tobias, his eyes burning with a fury he hadn't known he possessed. He lunged, ready to throw his entire body into his father, to knock him to the ground, to make him feel every ounce of pain and hatred he'd carried all these years.

But Tobias was faster. With a sneer twisting his face, he turned just in time to catch Severus by the throat, his calloused hand squeezing with brutal force. Severus gasped, his feet lifting off the ground for a brief, terrifying second as Tobias hurled him with shocking strength.

The impact came fast—pain exploded through Severus's back as he slammed into the wall, the breath knocked from his lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. Before he could recover, Tobias's next shove sent him crashing into the old wooden table in the center of the room. The legs gave way beneath him, the brittle wood snapping under the force, sending Severus sprawling across the floor in a heap of shattered wood and jagged splinters.

He groaned, pain searing through his side and shoulder. The world spun in a blur of lights and sounds, his vision swimming as he struggled to push himself upright. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle, as Tobias towered over him, his lip curled in disgust.

"Thought you were a tough little freak now, didn't you?" Tobias growled, kicking one of the broken table legs out of his way as he stepped closer. "Your mother should've thrown you in the trash as a baby, with all the other garbage."

Severus's vision blurred with hot, angry tears. His body screamed in pain, but the fire in his chest—the fury that had built up for years—wasn't so easily extinguished. Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled, weak beneath him. His head throbbed with the dull ache of a concussion.

"Severus!" His mother's voice cut through the haze, panicked and desperate. She had risen from the corner, rushing to his side, but Tobias shoved her back with ease.

"Stay out of this, Eileen!" he spat, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. "Maybe I'll teach you both a lesson tonight."

Severus's heart hammered in his chest, a rush of panic and anger crashing together. His mother's sobs, Tobias's taunts, the pain that shot through his entire body—it all blurred into a chaotic mess of noise and confusion. But amidst the pain, amidst the terror, a singular thought blazed through Severus's mind: he couldn't let it end like this. Not now. Not like this.

Weakly, Severus reached out, fingers brushing against the broken leg of the table. He didn't have magic anymore—not without his wand—but that didn't mean he couldn't fight. He wouldn't let Tobias keep hurting them. He'd had enough.

His hand closed around the piece of broken wood, fingers tightening with renewed resolve.

Tobias loomed over him, his hand raised, ready to strike again. "You'll learn your place, boy—"

Before Tobias could finish, Severus swung the piece of wood with every ounce of strength he had left, catching his father square in the side of the knee. Tobias yelped in surprise and pain, stumbling back as his leg gave out beneath him.

Severus didn't stop. With ragged breaths and blurred vision, he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his side, and swung the wood again, this time aiming for his father's ribs.

Tobias howled, doubling over, but Severus barely registered the sound, his blood boiling with a lifetime of pent-up fury. He swung the piece of broken wood again, desperate to protect his mother, to protect himself. This time, he wasn't going to back down.

But no matter how fiercely he fought, the strength of a seventeen-year-old boy—driven by rage though he was—couldn't match the raw, brute force of a grown man. Tobias, a war-hardened veteran, was not only much stronger but fueled by the cruel, reckless power that came with his drunken state.

With a grunt, Tobias caught the wood mid-swing, his grip like iron. He yanked it from Severus's hands with ease and slung it across the room. The broken table leg clattered against the far wall with a hollow thud, rolling uselessly across the floor.

Severus's eyes followed the wood instinctively, his mind racing. He needed to get it, to grab anything he could to defend himself. But the moment never came. Tobias's meaty hands gripped him by the collar, lifting him off the ground as though he weighed nothing.

Before Severus could react, he was slammed into the kitchen counter with brutal force. His back collided with the hard edge, knocking the air from his lungs in a sharp gasp. Tobias didn't stop. Again and again, he slammed Severus into the counter, each impact sending waves of pain radiating through his spine and ribs.

"Think you're tough?" Tobias sneered, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol as he shoved Severus back one last time. "You're just a freak. A useless, ugly freak."

Severus's vision blurred with tears, his body screaming in pain. His chest heaved, struggling for air, each breath labored and painful. But even now, even as Tobias loomed over him with that twisted grin, he wouldn't cry. He refused to give his father the satisfaction.

The room spun as Tobias finally let go, and Severus crumpled to the floor, clutching his side in agony. He could hear his mother's sobs from somewhere behind him, but the sound was muffled, distant—his head throbbed too much, and every breath he took felt like fire in his lungs.

Tobias stepped back, his cruel laughter echoing through the small kitchen. "Maybe I'll teach her a lesson next," he muttered, glancing toward the doorway where Eileen stood trembling.

Severus's heart clenched at the words. He tried to push himself up, but his arms were too weak, trembling beneath his weight. He couldn't let Tobias hurt her again—not after everything. But his body wasn't responding, the pain too overwhelming.

"Severus..." His mother's voice, soft and broken, pierced the haze clouding his mind. He needed to do something, anything.

But he couldn't.

His body was shattered. Pain radiated from his back with each shallow breath, every movement igniting agony. His vision blurred, the world around him reduced to dull shapes and indistinct sounds. All he could do was lay there, helpless, as his mother's desperate screams filled the small kitchen. Tobias's cruel words echoed alongside them, laced with malice, while the steady rhythm of Severus's own tears splashed against the cold floor.

"S-Stop..." Severus's voice cracked, barely more than a whisper, his plea lost in the storm of violence. He should've been stronger, he told himself. He needed to be stronger—for her, for the both of them. But his body refused to cooperate, the weight of his injuries too much to bear.

Desperately, he tried to push himself up again, his muscles straining against the pain. But the moment his arm took the weight, a white-hot flash of agony shot through him. He collapsed with a scream as his arm buckled at a sickening angle beneath him. He couldn't stop the sob that followed, his frustration mixing with his pain.

Time passed, though how long, Severus didn't know. His world had narrowed to the sounds around him: his mother's sobbing, the taunts of his father, and the dull ringing in his own ears. But then, something changed.

A thud.

Not the usual thud of his mother collapsing under Tobias's blows or his father flopping onto the couch after a drunken tirade. This was different—a heavy, final thud that reverberated through the room, sending a chill down Severus's spine.

His breath caught, dread pooling in his stomach as he strained to listen, his senses sharpening despite the pain. The kitchen had gone deathly quiet, too quiet. The sickening feeling in his gut only grew, the silence worse than the screams. Forcing himself to turn his head, Severus's heart pounded, his body trembling with fear of what he might see.

When Severus managed to open his eyes fully, through the pain and the haze, he saw his mother slumped on the floor. She wasn't moving.

His father stood frozen above her, eyes wide as he looked down at her lifeless form.

"Oi, wake up," Tobias muttered, nudging her limp body with the toe of his boot. When she didn't respond, he groaned, scratching the back of his head in frustration. "Damn... guess the bitch is dead."

Dead?

No.

Severus's heart clenched as the word echoed in his mind, refusing to take root. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. They were supposed to escape—run far away from Tobias, from this hell. He was supposed to protect her. He needed to protect her. Why couldn't he protect her? Why?!

Dragging himself across the floor, ignoring the searing pain that shot through his body with every movement, Severus inched closer to his mother. His arm trembled as he reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. Her skin was cold—too cold.

"M-Mama... no..." The words escaped him, weak and broken, barely audible as his tears fell. He stroked her face gently, willing her to wake up, to open her eyes and prove him wrong.

But she didn't.

The stillness of her body, the silence that filled the room, it was undeniable. His mother was gone. His protector, his only comfort in the world, was gone.

Tobias, still looming above them, rolled his eyes. "Quit sniveling, boy. She's dead, ain't nothin' you can do about it." He spat on the floor, the cruel apathy in his voice twisting the knife deeper into Severus's heart.

Severus's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as Tobias's words sunk in. She's dead. There was nothing he could do. Nothing left of the woman who had been his only light in this suffocating darkness.

Tobias, uncaring, turned away, moving toward the broken kitchen table as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't just crumbled beneath Severus's feet. "Better off without her anyway," he muttered, cracking open another beer with a sneer.

Severus stayed where he was, his fingers still resting against his mother's cold skin, tears streaming down his face. His entire body screamed in pain, but nothing compared to the hollow ache settling into his chest.

This was his fault. If only he'd been stronger, faster, better—if only he had been able to stop Tobias. He could've saved her. He should've saved her.

But he hadn't.

"Mama..." His voice trembled, barely a whisper. She would never smile at him again, never pull him into her arms, never protect him from the world as she once had.

His vision blurred with grief and rage, the two emotions intertwining into a knot that threatened to choke him. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to make Tobias pay for what he'd done. But his body betrayed him, too broken and weak to even move.

Tobias, in his drunken stupor, paid no mind to his son's anguish. "Quit your crying, boy. She was just a stupid bitch who couldn't handle life," he said, taking a long swig from his bottle. "You'll get over it."

Something snapped inside Severus.

His vision, still blurry from tears, sharpened with a new clarity. The grief was still there, burning hot and suffocating, but something else surged to the surface—pure, unbridled rage. He had nothing left to lose. Tobias had taken everything from him, and now, with his mother's death, there was nothing more to protect.

With a grunt of effort, Severus dragged himself upright, every nerve screaming in protest. His eyes locked on his father's back, cold and detached as Tobias took another swig of beer.

"You killed her..." Severus's voice was low, venomous. It was all he could manage, but it cut through the air like a knife.

Tobias turned, one eyebrow raised, his expression one of annoyance rather than fear. "What did you say, boy?"

"You killed her," Severus repeated, his voice trembling with fury, his body shaking from the effort of standing. "You... you took her from me..."

Tobias sneered, unimpressed. "And what are you gonna do about it, huh? You couldn't even stand up to me with your little magic stick. You're nothin'." He laughed, the sound cold and hollow.

But Severus didn't flinch this time. Something in him had changed. His wand may have been snapped in two, but there was more to him than just magic. His entire life had been nothing but pain, torment, and fear—but now, in this moment, all of it had crystallized into one clear purpose.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore."