I cannot do this anymore.

I cannot leave him by himself. I cannot die.

Not yet, not when so much is left undone.

But I’m running out of time.

This is hopeless, me keeping track of things. For whom? He recalls every damn second we spent together, his memory is so vast and resourceful that even without the tumor I would have pathetically lost to him.

Suddenly, I don’t know the purpose of what we’re doing anymore, our traveling, and me spending so goddamn much to record all of it. To what end? I asked myself this morning. It’s a waste of precious time. Time that runs out.

The reason for this sudden ambiguity isn’t what most might think it is. I’m not having an existential crisis or a breakdown. This isn’t even about me. It’s about Severus. I realized it too late…I realized that I should have listened to him. Followed his own damn rule.

Never get attached.

We’re /too/ attached. It didn’t happen overnight, but the shock and realization hit me the hardest just this morning. Severus has this look about him. He is going to do something stupid. I just know it.

Now, instead of fretting over my own deteriorating health, I was fretting over the potion master’s.

What would happen to him if I died? Sure, I would die in a hideous and painful way, but then it’s over for me, what about him? I’m just leaving him here with all these other people? Alone in a world where no one really understands him?

I cannot do that.

Granted he’s a grown ass man, equipped with a dangerously wide range of skills and abilities that makes my blood run cold, and also one of the most powerful wizards that I know, but my concern isn’t for his safety.

Severus’s fondness of me is about to reach a new level. Pass a limit that it shouldn’t, under these circumstances. I’m seeing it happen, but I cannot stop it.

It seems as if he’s forgetting his own demands on purpose, he is acting odd, out of bounds, I don’t if it’s just me hallucinating, but there’s something going on with him. He didn’t use to feel this way for me before, not this intensely; he merely tolerated my presence and then later proceeded to mentor me like a teacher would an apprentice.

Sure, he was friendly and caring towards me before, right from the beginning…but he was never this BOLD about it! He wants me to say something, ask him why, I just know it.

Things are different now. I could detect the alteration immediately, much to my own surprise. Before, there was an iron wall between the man and the world, an unshakable exterior, and later on, a heavy curtain, still remained between the two of us.

As of last week, the man had dropped all pretense of stoicism or anything resembling his past personality. He was….well I don’t know the word for it.
But he’s not himself anymore, that’s for sure.

He’s open. Not exactly emotional or over the top like Sirius was, but more… more exposed somehow. Openly affectionate. Bold. Towards me.
Me.

Harry James Potter.

Me.

He just doesn’t like me. He freaking loves me.

He told me that he loves me. After that last seizure. He thought I didn’t remember since I wasn’t quite /me/, but I do. He never told me he loved me before. Not only that, but he cuddled me as well.

/cuddled/.

If there was one thing Sev didn’t normally dish out, it was cuddles. Not even to me. Now though, Severus Snape is a hugger. That is literally Neville’s nightmare fuel right there.

And that’s dangerous. Because I cannot afford him to take any, drastic measures now, not now that I cannot return those feelings, because I don’t want to break his heart.

Severus is a very private and closed off person, he’s not a toy, I cannot mess with his paternal feelings for me, and then bugger off and die and leave him behind. It would destroy him.

It was fine before, when my fondness of the man out weighted his keenness towards me. Now that it’s evened up, and he’s behaving without an ounce of subtlety anymore…well…

You all think I shouldn’t care, that he’d be fine in a couple of years and moves on while I stay permanently dead. As in not alive, to see his suffering anyways.

That’s what most people get wrong about dying; when you die, you leave a typhoon of chaos and destruction and utter /devastation/ to wreck the people you left behind and that knowledge wrecks you in return. I already had too many people around me, people who once looked up to me, loved me or even just knew me…I don’t want Severus to be a part of it. Even though I won’t be there to see it.

He knew that too. He set the conditions himself, because he knew he couldn’t afford to get close to a ticking bomb, but he did it anyway. I don’t why.
I don’t want to ask him what he’s playing at. On one hand, I want to stop writing all these entries so I could spend more time with him, drink up every second that we have together and soak up his affection like a sponge; on the other hand, I don’t want to stop writing because I’m afraid that I’ll do just that.

So there are two resolutions, really; either I don’t die, so I wouldn’t break his heart, or I keep writing this in hopes that he finds it long after I’m gone, so that he could understand.

I may as well keep writing.

Getting to know Severus was a gradual process.

Everyday had a new discovery, and with every new discovery, Severus somehow seemed more humane, realer. In a way that he hasn’t been to anyone. I can safely say, no one…not even my mother, knows Severus as I do now.

The word of the day folks, is oxymoron and Sev’s whole existence defines the word.

The man is just filled with impossibly contradicting traits. He just doesn’t act like two different people, he /is/ two different people. To me, he’s Professor Snape /and/ Severus. Differentiating them though, that took me a long time.

If at first Sev’s strange behavior used to be baffling, now it was quite understandable. Not everyone could understand and interact with the man, he was…unique. One of a kind really, and I prided myself on being one of the only ones who had the pleasure of getting to know him this way.

“What happened tonight Potter,” the potion master begun as soon as we got back in the car, our cheeks flushed from the chilly breeze and hours spent on singing crappy songs. He would lie now, but he likes karaoke just as much as I do. “Would never be repeated elsewhere. Is that clear?” he turned the ignition as he finished.

I grinned. “Why? Is the bat of dungeons afraid for his reputation?”

Snape rolled his eyes as he started driving. “Watch your mouth Potter.” He warned.

I shrugged, feeling brave and abrasive as I started picking at the thread of my jacket. “I’m just saying, things wouldn’t terribly go wrong if Neville knew about your stellar singing voice, even Professor Flitwick would like the new addition to Hogwarts’ acapella -.”

“It’s my word against yours Potter,” he cut in. “And you have a tumor in your head. Do the math.”

“You’re right Professor; it’s my word against yours.”

“Cheeky brat.” The man grumbled.

“Severus Snape,” I raised my voice teasingly. “Being cheered on by drunk people as he sang to decades old muggle songs…” I paused. “You’re right, it sounds more like a hallucination than an actual event.”

He grunted, and I leant my head against the cold window, feeling the coolness seep into my forehead. There was a pleasant warm buzz in my stomach. I /loved/ karaoke.

As we were contently making our way to Surrey, I realized I might make Severus do it again with me since the man clearly loved it too, (I did.)
“As you can surely see Potter, it’s too late to go anywhere now, we will go to the zoo tomorrow morning, I hope that’s to your liking?”

“Where are we staying now?” I was too tired to get peeved as the row of familiar houses increased. Neat, and exactly alike. I hate suburban areas for the very same reason. Everything is too similar, too boring. Too / typical /. How did actual people live here? Were they content with being one of the many? With not being exceptional enough? Do I want to live in a place like this? Just be part of the mass?

“A safe house is near, Albus already gave me the keys, although I should warn you, it’s in close vicinity to your relatives’ residence. It wouldn’t be a problem since I doubt a confrontation.”

We ran into the Dursleys pretty much the next morning.

“This /safe/ house sounds dangerously close to private drive though, is that intentional?”

Snape gave me an unimpressed look. “What do you think Potter? Of course it was meant to be intentional, you didn’t expect your guards to sleep in the streets, did you?”

I stopped breathing. “My what?”

Snape graced me with one of his lighter sneers. “The members who watched you day and night since your Godfather’s successful escape two years ago,” he explained. “Don’t tell me you had no idea they existed Potter, one of them testified in court for you.”

“Mrs. Figg?” the name sounded so strange rolling in my tongue. “She was my former babysitter, I had no idea she was a Squib and she has her own house. Are you telling me there were others?”

The potion master gave me another look. “I’m going to give you two minutes to think about what you just asked Potter, while you take your situation, and the headmaster’s questionable sense of morality into consideration.”

I didn’t need two minutes or the sincerity in Severus’s eyes. My mouth fell open, and I clenched my hands on my knees. I felt indignation roll over me in slow humiliating waves. “Oh my god!” I groaned. “I had people watch over me all summer for /two/ years?!”

“You knew that.” The potion master rebuked accusingly.

“No I didn’t! I thought they only watched over me when…When C-Cedric…uh…went away.”

(Cedric was a touchy subject, you see. Thinking about Cedric was a big no-no ever since my condition started worsening. I couldn’t deal with Sirius’s death, my own death, Remus hating me /and/ Cedric on top of it. As guilty as that fact made me.)

Severus pretended he didn’t notice the stutter. “Well, knowing your Godfather, Headmaster thought it prudent someone be stationed near the house in case the mutt was foolish enough to attempt to sneak you out. Black was not exactly known for his maturity.”

“They watched over me?”

“From afar. They were explicitly ordered not to get inside the house or even close to the lawn.”

“I don’t understand, /Sirius/ wanted to break me out of my relative’s house? Why would he ever do that?”

“By Albus’s reasoning? Probably because the man was your godfather and felt the need to quench his thirst to prove himself to his dead best friend, and the notion might have unhinged him for all the time he spent in Azkaban…by my reasoning?”

“By your reasoning what?” I asked suspiciously.

Severus hesitated for a moment before responding. “I think he knew something others didn’t Potter. Something that now I know too.”

Oh no, I internally groaned. Not this again. He really wasn’t going to let the abuse thing go, was he? (He wasn’t.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He must have known the Dursleys personally,” the man continued. “If I remember it right, your aunt and that Walrus were already married when your parents wedded. Black was Potter’s best man, one encounter must have been enough.”

Of course, /he/ would know all about my parents’ wedding, the man knew everything about everyone. Anything there was to know. He knew all about me too. Even before he made me admit to most of it.

I honestly never found out if Sirius knew about my home life or not. Contrary to popular belief, my godfather was not an open man, not easily coaxed into talking about personal and sensitive subjects about himself or others. Sometimes…just sometimes, I think that he was wishing that by ignoring things, they would eventually go away… or he would.

Well he did leave, and he never talked about the Dursleys with me regarding this. (I’m not sure if I was angsty about that. Was I upset that Snape was pursing this instead of Sirius? Or Remus?)

“Sirius wasn’t like that,” I said after a long pause. “And the Dursleys…granted they’re not the best people around, but they’re not…”

“What, abusive?”

“Don’t say that word.” I glared at him, not ready for another emotional car talk. Honestly, it wasn’t like it mattered, I was going to die anyways. So why did it matter if I got knocked around and belittled a bit as a child? Who would care if /I/ didn’t?

Severus though, was relentless. “I bet Black knew, at least had a hunch. He certainly would have tried something if you hadn’t been guarded as closely. He couldn’t do anything without proof.”

The thought made my throat run dry. Sirius wouldn’t do that. I knew that. Not out of his lack of care, he did care. He loved me more than he was entitled to, but he wouldn’t have done something that drastic for me. Not the same way the /old/ Sirius would have before Azkaban.

“Stop, please.”

“But then again, that mustn’t have been what stopped him. He was rather pig-headed, your godfather. Even being on the run or a few order members wouldn’t have stopped him, I wonder…”

“Please.” I bit out. Hating that I was wrong. Snape clearly didn’t know a thing about the Sirius I knew.

Severus looked almost startled, as if broken from a trance. The man awkwardly cleared his throat as he gripped the steering wheel. “Yes Potter, you were guarded. The night shift members used this house, often enough.” He eventually said.

I frowned. “But didn’t they apparate back and forth though? Fletcher’s apparition was what caused all that havoc last year, right?”

“I said night shift members Potter, Albus would rather die and trust you with that man for over than two hours’ time, we also didn’t want the ministry to detect magical radiation from your house, so apparating back and forth wasn’t the best option. Fletcher was an idiot for doing it.”
We silently waited for a few moments.

“Sirius wasn’t insane.” I started slowly.

Snape nodded his head, but didn’t look like he agreed. “I’m sorry; I believe I was out of line.”

Was he apologizing? Well, that was a rare occurrence. “Are you apologizing?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Severus took us to the edge of Little Whinging, just shy of the playing ground and closer to the Dursley’s house than I have imagined. He parked the car in the driveway and ushered me out into the dark, leading me to the porch. The house was a spitting image of the houses around it, it lacked the slightest shred of personal touch and that sucked.

Also, the freaking bathroom was situated in the hallway leading to the living room, and not on the second floor, which was a bummer since I could feel my guts painfully cramp together as we got out of the car. I knew that throwing up was only a matter of time, and I couldn’t do that in front of Snape.
I also couldn’t hide it with the darn loo literally in the man’s line of sight at all times.

The living room was spacious, and furnished with squeaky-clean furniture, a depressing brown rug covered the floor, and there were two red love seats set right next to an uncomfortable looking couch with no pillows. The polished counter bar top separated the small kitchen from the living room; two wooden stools were placed on either side. All in all, the place looked like a dollhouse.

“Um sir, this is going to sound insane…but can I take the couch?”

“Why?”

I shrugged, trying to look casual. “I don’t know, it looks cozy, I guess. I’ve never crashed on a couch before, maybe I could bring some blankets and-.” And camp in the bathroom until I wasn’t about to turn out my entrails. I finished in my mind, cringing as Snape looked at me over his shoulder.

“And?” he prompted.

“Nothing,” I blurted out, “It’s stupid, but I’ll take the couch tonight, if that’s okay with you sir.”

“Don’t take it up with me Potter, take it up with your neck and shoulders,” he said. “There’s a reason people don’t leave the comforts of bed for a lumpy sofa.”

My stomach clenched. “I think they’re fine with it sir. So is it really okay if I brought some blankets and pillows down here?”

The man sighed. “It’s not my house. Knock yourself out,” he turned and headed for the stairs. “And please for the love of god, take a shower before you fall asleep. You’re a teenaged boy, every two days isn’t going to cut it,” he grunted over his shoulder as he went to inspect the second floor.
Well that was easy, I wryly thought.

“And dry that mop properly, or I’ll shave it off.” Snape shouted, his body disappearing from view.

I nodded my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I try sir, thanks.”

The cramps were getting progressively more persistent as the night went on; somehow, I managed to convince Sev that I wasn’t hungry enough for dinner and went upstairs to take some blankets to build my fort, mostly as a distraction from the pain.

Dudley never had a fort, as much as aunt Petunia loved her Duddikins, splaying blankets and pillows on the ground for any particular reason was where she drew the line. Not that she was the one doing the laundry or washing the sheets in the end, but still, a woman must have boundaries (eye roll).

The second floor had three bedrooms, with the one at the very end of the hall being the master bedroom, the smallest, and the blandest one on the right, and the other room on the opposite side. As Severus had already mentioned, the bathroom was downstairs.

I left the master bedroom for Snape and ventured into the two remaining rooms in a scavenger hunt for cushions and some pillows, which I found in the room that had royal blue curtains and no wardrobe.

It had a snug window seat and a double bed that took most of the space, and much to my ongoing luck, both were littered with cushions and comforters. I stifled that pure, childish sense of joy that was bubbling in my throat and hid my grin; the fort was only a mask for the cramps so I could sneak into the bathroom undetected, I reminded myself and the sharp pain in my guts agreed.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy building and sleeping in a childhood fantasy fort.

“Potter what in merlin’s name are you doing?” Snape asked incredulously, with his arms crossed. He watched in bemusement as I stumbled downstairs. I hoisted the bundle of blankets higher up in my arms.

“Just trying to make myself comfortable down here, that’s all.”

The man pinched the tip of his nose. “You could have just…forget it,” He dramatically dropped his hands by his side. “I suppose it won’t matter as long as you return them before we leave tomorrow.”

Dumping the beddings, I stifled my pained grimace with a wide grin and plopped down on the ground in the sea of pillows and duvets all around me.
I didn’t know the first thing about building blanket tents.

Well, I supposed there was a first for everything. Reaching out, I grasped the first thing that came to my hand and determinedly covered the couch with the comfortable sheets. Unlike my Aunt’s sheets, these did not have floral patterns or nauseating auras, they sort of smelled of dust and disuse, if I was being honest with myself.

I realized with a jolt that after my death there wouldn’t be much use of this house anymore. It would either stay as it is now, in a constant state of disuse and gradual decay, or the Order would clean it out and leave it be, so a muggle couple can take residence.

I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Snape had a small sandwich for dinner, as he mulled over his stupidly expensive looking journal, and I busied myself with the blanket fort. The man looked over his shoulder to check on me several times, but neither commented, nor approached me after he was done in the kitchen.
He laid out a plate for me /just in case/ and then retreated upstairs, and I was finally able to double over and clutch my stomach in pain like I’ve wanted to since arriving at the house.

God did it hurt! It felt like a mutilated cat was throwing a hissy fit in my stomach, tearing up my insides with its sharp claws, and turning my innards into abused torn ribbons. The nausea was barely helping things.

The tent wasn’t my proudest achievements thus far, but for someone with nausea and constant cramping, I did one hell of a job, building that fort. I used one of the taller loveseats to determine the height of the roof, and threw the longest blanket I had over the love seat and then extended it to the back of the couch, creating a snug, tunnel like structure.

I tucked it all in, and threw a thick wool blanket on the floor, bundled up another blanket, and clogged one side of the fort, leaving the one closest to the bathroom open, and stuffed it over with pillows to conserve some warmth. By the time I was done, I was almost crawling with pain.
Curling up on my side, I hid my face in the safety of the pillows and drew the blanket over my face, praying to every god out there to keep me from puking my guts out through the night.

Listening to Snape’s shuffling upstairs comforted me in my haze, and I found myself groggily rolling my eyes as I realized I still needed to shower since the man clearly ordered me to.

He was going to start asking questions if I acted oddly.

Reluctant to leave the warmth and scant comfort of my first exclusive blanket fort (which I am still giddy about, to this day) I quietly made my way to the bathroom, cursing the architectures of this house for their poorly execution of the bathroom placement.

Unlike the one back in the shell cottage, this one had a light switch. I flipped the lights on, wincing as the sharp, intense light dug into my half-lidded eyes. I made quick job of the clothes and almost crumpled under the warm water beating on my back.

Seating under the hot shower helped with the cramping somewhat, but the steam covering the mirror and swirling above my head was multiplying the nausea, and I gagged several times as a result.

At last, I stumbled to my feet and washed my hair as best as I could without completely raising mu arms. As I was miserably rinsing myself and cursing Snape, my eyes caught the purple bathroom cupboard above the steamed mirror.

I don’t know why I thought of searching the cabinet, but I did. Dripping wet and shivering, I shuffled out of the shower, and rose on the tip of my slippery toes. I opened the cupboard with little hesitation and looked through the content; nothing of significance, there was a lumpy packet of cottons, and a tube of sunscreen at the very back along with other toiletries that could be found in any other bathroom.

My hands closed around the only bottle of Tylenol, my eyes narrowing at its presence. Why was there Tylenol in a wizarding safe house? Come to think of it, this place was surprisingly vacant and devoid of any magical artifacts, that couldn’t have been a coincidence.

It must have been Snape’s doing, I concluded. There was no doubt that the man had thought everything through with the potion and how magical radiation effected it (insert eye roll).

An intense wave of pain washed over me and I groaned, uncapping the bottle as I gritted my teeth against the pain.

I shook out two white pills in my hand and wondered if taking muggle drugs would mess up with my system or meddle with that poison Snape made me drink every three days, as another wave hit, I quickly found that I didn’t care, and swallowed the pills dry, gripping down and clutching the sink after I did.

I washed them down with tap water and quickly toweled myself dry, feeling the churning in my stomach flare up. Grasping the Tylenol bottle in my hand, I threw on my old clothes, stuffed it in my pockets, sneaked out of the bathroom, and got into my fort.

I didn’t expect it to work, but it actually did. The cramps stopped after I settled down and I slept like an angel that night, but woke up feeling like the devil’s spawn; Severus was right, sleeping on the floor did not do my neck and back any favors.

I woke up smelling eggs and hearing the sizzling hymn of bacon singing in my ears, Severus was by the stove, looking as if he was in a middle of an existential crisis, glaring at the bacon like it was its fault.

“Good morning.” I groaned, rubbing my aching joints as I sat up.

He didn’t look up. “1918, Roberta and Bob, two fair villagers had a rooster named sunshine. Every morning, Sunshine would crow to wake everyone at sunrise. Mr. And Mrs. Roberts would call out “Good morning, Sunshine!” And that is how that phrase was first created, bacon?”

I blinked. “What?”

Snape shrugged, pilling the sizzling goods on a porcelain plate. I cringed as my neck cracked, and hastily made my way to the counter.
“Was that true? What you just said?”

Snorting, Severus puffed. “God no, at least, I don’t think so, considering that I made it up. The phrase ‘good morning’ is actually a contraction of the phrase “I wish you a good morning” first known person who used such a phrase was penned in Layamon’s Brut.”

Frowning, I took the steaming plate he held out to me. I could safely say I understood next to nothing from what the man just said to me.

“Layamon’s what?”

“A poem, Potter, composed by Layamon in 1125 BC. It was named Layamon’s Brut, also known as the chronicle of Britain, Cannot be possibly clearer than that.”

“You alright?” I asked uncertainly.

Snape took out another plate and served himself a decent portion of scrambled eggs. “Splendid Potter,” he muttered. “Something that cannot be said about you. How’s the neck?”

Still wary, I stopped rubbing the back of my neck and shrugged. “Not bad.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Yes, not bad, considering that you spent the night on a hand knit wool blanket /on the floor/. I would have asked if you were purposefully ignorant or just daft, but then again…it’s you.” He gestured vaguely with his hand at my direction before picking up his fork.
Scowling, I popped a crackling bacon on my tongue, grumbling with a full mouth. “I am a delight.” I paused to eat, “I even took that shower last night.”

Severus pinched the tip of his nose. “Potter, wearing the same clothes after taking a shower beats the very purpose of taking one in the first place. You could have asked for your trunk.”

I flushed. I was in too much pain last night to think of clean clothes. “I was…I didn’t think of that, and it was late anyways.”

“Absolutely no sense of self-hygiene.” The potion master muttered to himself. “I’m letting it slide this once Mr. Potter. Keep in mind to wear /clean/ clothes after taking a shower next time.”

“Someone’s in a good mood today,”

Snape ignored the sarcasm in my voice as he ate. “Thank your lucky stars for that Potter, and get ready as soon as you’re done with your breakfast. We shall leave as soon as possible.”

Someone was /indeed/ in a good mood that day. Snape exuded a feeling I couldn’t quite place at the time, a feeling that bordered smugness, but not quite… something akin to excitement. I vaguely wondered if the man was excited about going to the zoo just as I was and then quickly laughed it off.
Snape and immature excitement…or giddiness? Whatever the hell this was?

It was like paying a mime to perform opera.

I pushed my hesitance away as I got dressed. Today wasn’t for me, I thought determinedly. It was for the newly turned eleven-year-old boy, who was taken to the zoo for the first time in his life.

And this time, I was going to enjoy every-damn- second of it.

“Drink up Potter.” The potion master slid a vial into my hands, and watched with hidden amusement as I choked it down.

“Is it just me, or does this thing get worse every three days?”

“It’s just you.” He deadpanned. “Let’s take a walk Potter. We can head to the zoo after,”

I cannot walk anymore, therefore, recently I’ve became to envy the times that I could stroll around to places with Severus on my tow. Walking gave us a light-hearted lift that driving in a car or lying on a couch like a cripple didn’t.

Things have gotten very intense and gloomy between us since I’ve been confined to bed rest. It seemed that we’re both really realizing that my end date is near, thus talking, interacting, or even being in the same room has been very difficult for us (Only I seem to be aware of that,). Every time he opened his mouth, I felt like my hands were choking him, and every time his hand touched my skin I felt as if I could cry because I was scared it would be the last time.

It was partly the reason why he was acting so weirdly and my hesitance to ask him about it was only fueling his creepy way of coping. He was already preparing himself for my death, or at least, I think that’s what he’s doing.

He stopped reading these recent entries, so instead of their usual place, I’ve decided to store them in my Pillowcase. He would find them eventually.
Just last night, I caught him sneaking out a bottle of firewhisky out of the upper bookshelf that adorned the living room’s supporting wall. I didn’t tell him that I know he was slightly hung over this morning, and I didn’t tell him that I was mad that he had gotten drunk with me being this sick just downstairs.

Severus looked so guilty and ashamed of himself that right after feeding me he immediately contacted Arthur Weasley’s ‘dealer’ to get us a nice telly and a DVD player, managed to hook it up with little effort before noon, and made me a nice, cozy blanket nest on the couch. (That on itself should have raised some flags).

He let me watch crappy movies all day. Worse, he sat next to me like a statue through every single one.

We didn’t talk much (even though he was literally breathing down my neck most of the day), but I slept a lot, so I think he doesn’t know that I also caught him sneaking that half empty whisky bottle back in its place.

Severus, please be sure to get rid of any kind of liquor in the house after I’m gone.

That’s a hard rule. I cannot have you turning into an alcoholic.

Although, to be fair, even I admit having something stronger than chicken broth is nice while I’m about to describe our unfortunate (but apparently planned) run in with Aunt Petunia.

**

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

He wore clothes that didn’t fit, colorless rags, sewed window curtains and anything and everything they offered him to protect himself from the cold and nudity.

He was a small, malnourished boy living in a bad neighborhood, and even there, he was considered the worst of his kind. A vermin. A rundown kid with a drunken father and a blubbering hysterical mother living by the edge of the rubbles.

One day The Boy was sad, sadder than usual; his parents had just been arguing, it didn’t happen very often as his mother didn’t dare fight back, but it had happened that day. He needed to get out of the house.

Instead of sulking in the rubbles and listening to dogs bark at each other, he headed the other way. The other way led to the better side, the side that had nicer houses, and no rubble or rubbish and no dogs barking. A vast park divided it from The Boy’s side, and the boy was adamant to go over the fence that particular day.

The park was empty; it had a scarce playground at the other side of the hill and a tall crooked tree that had old curly branches. The boy saw The Girl hiding in the crooked tree.

The Girl was hiding from a screeching banshee, The Boy noticed, as he got closer, that he was wrong. He saw that the screaming ball of blonde hair and long useless limbs wasn’t a banshee (even though she strongly resembled one) but a taller girl calling out a name.

“LILY! LILY! COME DOWN YOU FREAK! FREAK!” the boy blanched, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the girl’s wispy red hair and floating skirt that had pretty yellow flowers. She was hiding within the upper branches, finely out of reach.

The boy climbed from the back, he was small so the banshee girl didn’t see him and he was better at climbing than The Girl so he was quieter.
“Are you Lily?” he whispered into The Girl’s small ear. The Girl didn’t shriek or pull away; she turned to face him with big owl like eyes that were green. Not just any shade of green, a deep emerald that The Boy had never seen before.

Her eyes were magic, he thought to himself.

“Who are you?” the girl asked calmly, her face round with youth and her hair red like fire.

The Boy stuttered, he couldn’t tell her his name. Everybody knew his name back over at home; they all knew he was smelly oily Severus whose clothes never fit. The Girl couldn’t know that.

“Sev.” He said.

“Lily.”

“That’s a pretty name.” both of them ignored the banshee screaming at them. They were safe here, the banshee couldn’t climb or she would have by now.

“Why is she screaming at you?” Sev grimaced.

“Tunney’s just mean because I played with the flowers and she couldn’t, she’s really noisy but it’s alright, she gets tired easily.”

He sat down on the thick branch next to the girl, his arm just shy of brushing against hers.

“I thought she was a banshee, but she doesn’t have gargoyle wings.”

Lily looked at him oddly and he flushed in shame. Instead of sneering though, Lily grinned at him.

“That’s funny,” she even laughed a little.

“GET DOWN HERE YOU FREAK! I’M TELLING MOM! SHE’D BE SO MAAAAD! DO YOU HEAR ME?! SHE’D BE LIVID!”

“Is she always like this?”

Lily shrugged elegantly. “Only when I do naughty things.”

Severus’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing. If she did naughty things like he did, was she going to get punished like him? Was her father waiting for her to come home to take out his belt and threaten to /teach/ her a lesson?

He eyed the pretty dress Lily was wearing. It was too nice. Too nice to be for a girl who did naughty things. She had a different definition of naughty then.

“Like what?” he finally asked.

Lily flushed deep beet red in shame, her small hands wringing. The screaming went on beneath them. “Making the flowers dance, or…flying off the swings.” She whispered shamefully and Severus gaped.

“Those aren’t bad things.” He said. His expression was bewildered. “They’re normal since you’re a witch.”

Her face whipped to face him and Severus’s heart lurched. The wrong thing to say, he thought wretchedly. He said the wrong thing, somehow.

Lily brushed his arm, her eyes firm but her tone soft and caring. “That’s a horrible thing to say to someone Sev,” she reprimanded him gently.

Severus choked indignantly. He batted her arm away. “It’s not…it’s not a swear word Lily.” He tried to explain. “It’s like saying that I’m a boy and you’re a girl. You have magic so you’re a witch.”

It was a different kind of witch, not the one his father sometimes used to address his mother, the good kind his mom had told him about, the kind of witch that got to leave for Hogwarts and learn real magic and do real magic.

“That’s why she’s so jealous.” Severus pointed down at Petunia. Her face was red and glittering in perspiration, her hands fisted by her side. “I’M TELLING MOM! I’LL TELL HER AND SHE’LL BE MAD! GET DOWN!!” she actually stomped her foot as she said this.

“She’s not magic.”

Lily glared at him skeptically, then back at Petunia. Crossing her arms, the girl petulantly turned away from him.

“That’s mean Sev, really mean.” Severus felt a stab of hurt, his chest clenching. The Girl’s displeasure with him made a bile gather in his throat. He really, really yearned for someone’s approval, and this girl was special.

“But it’s true!” he argued back.

“GET DOWN! DON’T YOU HEAR ME?! COME HERE! LILY!”

“I don’t like you,” Lily sniffed. “You’re lying to me, playing me, and you called me a witch.”

Lying? No, his father was a liar, he lied to his mother and him all the time, he lied to get that little scrape of money in his gambling, he even lied to their neighbors about ruining their lawn in his drunken state and blamed it on Severus.

But Severus wasn’t like his father at all. Most certainly not a liar. Never.

He got up on shaky legs, looping one arm around a lousy branch to steady himself.

“Well maybe you really are a nasty witch.” He snarled at The Girl, mentally grimacing at the hurt flashing in those emerald green eyes. He turned away and climbed back with two large jumps,

“Wait! Sev!” her sweet voice rang behind him as he ran. Severus didn’t spare her a glance.

“Ow!”

**

The Girl who fell was my mother, and it was her rotten sister, Aunt Petunia, who ratted Severus out and earned him his first severe beating as a child.
I forgave Aunt Petunia for her wrongs to me, and I was at peace with myself, and quite content to never see the woman, ever again. However, the universe (or Severus) really doesn’t care about what I want, do they?

It happened while Severus and I were walking around the neighborhood, heading south, and potentially /away/ from Private Drive, and more towards the small mass of stores huddled in the center of the suburbs, I cannot even remember why we were strolling in the neighborhood. We just were.
“You!” a shrill voice gasped in utter outrage from behind. Severus and I turned, facing an gaping horse like woman who was shuffling with her grocery bags as she tried to get herself together.

I thought she was shocked to see me loitering around our old neighborhood, and I automatically opened my mouth to apologize. To my surprise, Severus first responded.

“Ah,” he said in greeting. “Petunia.”

Aunt Petunia jutted her jaw. “Snape,”

“Lovely morning isn’t it?” the potion master’s tone would have been pleasant if not for his infamous sneer accompanying the comment.

“What are /you/ doing here?”

“Wait you two know each other?” I gasped.

“As jarring as ever I see. I always thought there was a hidden banshee trying to claw its way out of you. Good to know it’s still there.” Snape said to Petunia calmly. I choked on air and Aunt Petunia’s eyes narrowed. She closed her agape mouth with a snap and squared her shoulders.

“If you’re here to drop off that /freak/,” she pointed at me with her long crooked finger, her hand weighted down by a bag, “Then you’re out of luck Snape! We’re not taking the whelp back!”

Snape spared me a quick glance, and I flushed. Oh great, I thought, I was just the luckiest block on earth.

“Freak?” The man scoffed. “Why Petunia, I see your range of insults hadn’t expanded one bit.”

“That’s just who you lot are!” Aunt Petunia exclaimed. “A bunch of deranged freaks! We’re not taking him back, so you better get the hell away now Snape.” In her mad ranting, several people stood to watch the confrontation with their own shopping bags and drooling toddlers.

Severus noted the small crowd with amusement and Petunia and I did as well with hidden terror.

“As dramatic as ever I see,” Snape drawled. “There’s just a certain flair to turning every place into your own theatre scene isn’t it Petunia?”

It was my turn to gawk; that was the /exact/ opposite of Aunt Petunia. She was the kind who detested any abnormalities or any gossiping surrendering her if she wasn’t the one doing it.

Clearly, Severus and I knew two different Petunias.

“Your /kind/ isn’t wanted here.” My aunt gritted out forcefully, the abused bags in her hands nearly being ripped in two as she wrung them and briskly walked closer to us.

I grabbed on Severus’s elbow on instinct, my breath catching still in my chest and my head turned away in case the woman was going for a slap.
We’ll leave Aunt Petunia I promise! That’s what I wanted to blurt out before she could struck me. We can get out of your hair Aunt Petunia, running into you was an accident. I’m sorry.

Severus saw my unwanted flinch, his eyes darkened as he turned back to face the woman who was now almost an arm’s length away from us.
“I wouldn’t know about that /Tunney/,” he snarled out the offending nickname. “In fact I’d say ma-.”

“Don’t say that word!” Aunt Petunia screamed, gathering more and more crowd around us. Mostly the people who had heard over the public argument and had stepped out to hear what was interrupting their absolutely normal and boring lives.

“Everyone is watching now,” Severus smirked as he whispered. The words only meant for her ears in a menacing taunt.

I couldn’t do anything but watch the two go back and forth. My mind disturbingly blank and slow on the uptake, as I watched two worlds, two different parts of my life clash with each other in a nasty collision.

Aunt Petunia didn’t look like she much cared for staying there with us, but I saw uncertainty clouding her eyes; she couldn’t just leave us here, in her /neighborhood/, where we would leave and she wouldn’t. If she left it like this, abrupt and defeated and more importantly, /embarrassed/, then it would be the only thing people would talk about.

This made for a special kind of gossip, one without an expiration date, just a nasty reminder every time her name was mentioned.

Severus looked like he was following the gears turn in my aunt’s head as well, and his smirk widened.

“Follow me,” she seethed and turned, craning her neck to see if we were following her or not.

“Should we tell her we’re not here for her?” Severus asked me his eyes askance but neutral.

I was still in shock. “You two know each other!?”

The man shrugged. “I take that as a no.” He started walking after the paranoid woman, forcing me to trail along.

“I sincerely hope you wouldn’t miss your most exciting trip to the zoo for now.” He drawled, he extended his arm over my shoulder and brought me to his side. Too surprised to act, I stuck by his side and we followed my deranged Aunt all the way to Number Four Private Drive.

Time for a truth reveal.