Right in Front of Me (Book 1) by ShabbyBeachNest

Harry was at the table, dressed once again in borrowed clothes and eating a quick plate of eggs and bacon. Snape sat in his usual spot reading the Daily Prophet.

Suddenly Harry heard the floo come to life and asked, "Are we expecting someone?" But before he got an answer, a face he recognized walked into the kitchen.

"Remus!" he called happily, standing up to greet his old professor. The man hugged him warmly, and Harry had to admit that it was nice to see him. He looked exhausted but happy, which was strange considering that the full moon was less than a week away.

"Hi, Harry! Are you ready to go?"

"Go?" Harry responded in confusion, looking from him to Snape. "Go where?"

Snape continued reading the paper as he replied, "I did mention that you needed clothes."

Harry was shocked at Snape's thoughtfulness. Sure, he'd said as much, but Harry didn't actually think he'd go through with it. No one had ever provided for him before, not really. Now he was here, being fed three square meals a day, with a proper bedroom, blankets – he even had pajamas. And now he was about to go shopping for proper clothing for the first time in his life. Looking at Snape, the warm feeling inside him grew and he smiled at the man, although he didn't see it since he was still reading the paper.

"What are you doing this morning, sir?" He tacked that last bit on, not sure how Snape would react if he called him by his first name in front of Remus.

"Errands," Snape replied blandly. "You'll have a much better time with Lupin."

There was a slight pause in the room, and Remus fidgeted with something in his pocket. "Well…" Remus said slowly, and Harry noticed that his eyebrows were creased ever so slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't. "I guess we'll be off, then."

"Have him back by dinner," Snape drawled. His eyes flicked up to Harry he murmured, "Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said meaningfully. Snape just waved him away.

But as they rounded the corner into the sitting room, Snape called out, "Lupin!"

The man popped his head back into the kitchen, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Thanks."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

The moment he heard the floo once more, Snape was on his feet. Let's get this done. He pulled the same three potions from last night out of his pocket, which he'd gathered from the lab before calling the boy down to breakfast. Just to be safe… And he quickly tossed them back, his face puckering after the Skele-Grow hit his tongue. It still tasted like piss.

Casting a disillusionment charm on himself, Snape apparated directly into the muggle's entranceway. The television was up so loud that they didn't hear the resultant crack! as he appeared. Walking slowly – invisibly – into the sitting room, he took a moment to observe the two sordid parents of the Dursley family. He felt rather like a snake stalking two insignificant rats who were unaware of their impending doom.

The television show – a horrendous muggle comedy of some sort – emitted a raucous track of laughter and applause, then cut to commercials.

"Petunia, get me a beer," the walrus ordered from an armchair directly in front of the television, and his wife jumped to her feet and hurried to comply. She unknowingly walked within inches of Snape on her way to the kitchen. Vernon Dursley was still in his white tank top and boxers from the night before, and Snape could clearly smell the old sweat and alcohol emanating off the repulsive muggle. He was revolted as the man blatantly adjusted himself with an obvious smirk during a commercial with some lingerie-clad women strutting across the screen wearing feathered wings.

Petunia walked back into the room carrying not only a beer, but what Snape realized was a shot glass full of Scotch, as he clearly caught a whiff of the amber liquid when the woman walked past.

"Here you go, Darling," she murmured, running her hand suggestively down his chest and into his lap.

I've seen enough, thought Snape in disgust.

But as he was about to reveal himself, Dursley reached over and grabbed a pack of cigarettes, banging the package on his knee to pop a stick out of the top of the cardboard container. Snape froze, unable to take his eyes off the vile man as he rammed the cigarette between his lips and leaned forward with his hands cupped around the end, lighting it. He put the neon-colored plastic lighter to the side, taking a long draw from the end of the cigarette and then blowing the smoke over his shoulder.

"Severus, being me my smokes." The boy watched in dread as his father banged the package on his knee. He took a long draw from the end of the cigarette before blowing the smoke over his shoulder and leering down at his son.

"Now be a good boy and come sit with Daddy. It's time for your lessons..."

Snape swayed from the sudden flashback, feeling as if he'd been physically struck. He placed his palm firmly against the wall as the ground shifted beneath his feet, trying desperately to calm his racing pulse.

He's dead. He can't hurt me anymore. He's DEAD!

But the words didn't seem to penetrate as a cold sweat broke out over Snape's entire body. The heavy smoke seeping out of the filthy muggle's mouth surround him, suffocating him, making him almost physically ill in the memories it evoked of his father.

Snape couldn't take it a second longer. He hissed a swift, "Incarcerous," at the repugnant man before him as he removed the disillusionment spell. Petunia jumped screaming from the couch as ropes shot from the end of Snape's wand, binding the giant slug to the armchair in which he sat.

"What the fuck?!" The walrus cried out with the cigarette still dangling between his lips. Snape held his wand out threateningly, his eyes never leaving the man as he walked around to face him. Their gaze held for long moments as Snape stood looking down at him.

"YOU!" Petunia shrieked as she recognized Snape. His gaze turned slowly to the sister of the only woman – the only person – he'd ever loved. She stared back at him with abhorrence. She knew exactly who he was, and after all this time, she still despised him.

This he understood. This he could handle. This was how the rest of the world had viewed him since he was eleven-years-old.

He hated Petunia Evans, loathed the hideous horse face that had made Lily cry on countless occasions because of her nasty, jealous taunts. But at that particular moment, Snape was grateful to her, for her hatred helped a peculiar calm settle over him, and allowed him to finish what he'd come here to do.

"Get out of my house!" The woman screeched.

"Not until I've gotten what I came for," Snape said silkily. He turned back to the walrus, making a dangerous sound low in his throat. "Smoking is such a vile habit, Mr. Dursley. Why don't you put that cigarette out so I don't have to breathe in your filth."

The ropes unwound from around the man's arms, swaying and moving like living snakes to slither themselves threateningly around his neck. Then, as if his hand was suddenly being controlled by someone other than himself, Dursley slowly removed the cigarette from his mouth.

"No, no… Please!" the man cried. But his fingers continued moving of their own accord, turning the cigarette over and slowly bringing it closer to his own skin. The man whimpered before him, begging pathetically. But Snape thought only of Harry as the slug finally touched the glowing tip into the back of his other hand, grinding it down forcefully. Dursley howled in pain as his fingers held the cigarette in place, burning through layers of flesh.

His appendages suddenly became his own once more, and he clasped his hand over the wound, screaming obscenities at Snape even though he had a rope around his throat. "You son of a bitch! You offensive, mutant freak! You and that boy - I'll kill you both-!"

"Hold your tongue," Snape hissed, and Vernon suddenly looked like a silent, gaping fish. His eyes bulged in rage as he looked up at Snape, but with a flick of his wand the ropes tightened ever so slightly around his throat, and although still able to draw breath, his eyes began bulging for a different reason.

"Where's little Dusrley Jr.?" He asked darkly. "Maybe we can get him in on the fun, too." Petunia visibly blanched, and was shaking in hatred and fear for her family.

"Not here. He's out with friends."

"That's too bad," Snape murmured. "I had something rather important I wanted to discuss with him."

"What do you want from us?" Petunia asked, the distress clear in her trembling voice.

"I'm here for Harry's things," Snape replied after a moment. "Unless… you have done something with them?" He almost hoped they had. "Then I shall have no choice but to further your education in just what we freaks are capable of," Snape purred threateningly.

"No, we have them!" The woman cried in desperation. "We'll give them to you! Take them back to that little creep. Make sure he knows never to show his face here again, or we won't be responsible for what happens to him." At Snape's dark look, she shrank back.

"Show me." Snape demanded, and Petunia nodded jerkily in agreement. Snape glared down at the walrus for a long moment. "Don't go anywhere, Dursley," he said, and more ropes appeared tying his wrists and ankles to the chair.

The woman glanced fearfully at her husband as she led Snape out of the room. But instead of stopping at the cupboard under the stairs as Snape was expecting, she led him out to the back garden. There was Harry's trunk, undamaged and pristine while laying amongst a pile of splintered wood and bits of metal. It took Snape a moment to realize that the debris had, at some point fairly recently, been an Irish hurling stick and an axe.

"There is something unnatural about that trunk. Vernon tried to destroy it after those people came. But it wouldn't break no matter how many times he hit it. That… that little FREAK put my Duddy in the hospital! And not even a proper hospital – a hospital for YOUR MUTANT KIND! And now Dudders doesn't even remember that night! He can't even tell us what happened!" She was screeching by the time she finished her tirade. "Take the damn thing! Get it out of here! We never want to see it again! We never want to see ANY OF YOU again!"

She yelped in indignation as Snape murmured a quick, "Reducio," and the trunk shrank to the size of a matchbox. Placing it into his robe pocket, he spun on his heel and strode back into the sitting room.

Snape stood with his wand raised before the silent, raging man in the armchair. With a twist of his wrist, he removed the ropes as well as the silencing spell. Petunia dropped to her bony knees beside him, weeping.

"Vernon, oh Vernon!"

Immediately the man jumped out of the chair and lunged at Snape, yelling above his wife's screeches, "You and that boy are DEAD! Do you hear me?! You miserable excuse for a fucking man, I'll—"

But with another flick of the wand, the lumbering slug was slammed up against the wall, his hands scrabbling around an unseen force at his throat. His wife desperately clung to his beefy arm, screaming and vainly wrenching at it to try and get him down.

"Silence!" Snape hissed, and this time it didn't take a spell to quiet the pair. He advanced on them with his wand raised, murmuring ominously, "I could kill you with a simple flick of my wrist and go on about my day with a clear conscious. I'd sleep better that night than you ever have in your entire miserable lives." He paused, watching with relish as their eyes grew wide with fear. Digging his wand into the soft, flabby underside of Vernon's neck, he made a motion that lifted the man until he was dangling off the floor, the very tips of his toes scrabbling to find purchase. Snape raised his voice above the man's choking gasps and continued, "You are done threatening my—threatening Harry. He is no longer your concern. You will never see each other again." And when he removed his wand, the walrus crumpled to the floor in a giant, heavy heap.

Before the two had so much as a taken a breath, he spun on the spot and was gone.

. . . . .

With a small crack! Snape appeared in an alley that he didn't recognize, but it took him a moment to realize that fact. He paced the small space, feeling like the buildings were moving, closing in on him, about to crush him at any moment.

He's dead, God dammit. Stop this!

But the cloying stench of cigarette smoke clung to him. He could smell it on his very clothes, nauseating him with its overpowering scent. Snape trembled as he frantically scrambled out of the heavy black robes covering his white button down, hastily ripping them off and dropping them to the grimy ground beneath his feet. He paced again, running a hand through his hair and breathing deep to try and get the trembling under control.

"You're a growing boy, Severus. You need someone to show you what to do."

He could feel the man's hands on him still, caressing him, stroking his body. The bile rose at the back of his throat, making him retch right there in that filthy alley. He pushed one of his palms against the damp bricks for support as the heaves took over, unable to stand up straight.

Quaking violently, Snape slowly pulled his wand from inside his pocket and, yanking his sleeve up to his elbow, made a slashing motion above his forearm. The sting of the cutting curse slashed through his flesh. With effort he brought his head up, watching in detachment as the blood gushed warmly from the deep wound, oozing down the crease of his elbow and dripping with soft patters onto the alley floor.

Finally able to get his breathing under control, his hand still trembled slightly as Snape healed the wound. Disconnected, as if looking at another's arm, he examined the now purple welted scar. He knew that by injuring himself he could never be rid of the ugly mark, and it would stay with him forever. But as the trembling finally left him he felt numb, emotionless, and couldn't bring himself to care.

Finally walking out of the dim alley and into the bright sunlight, Snape looked across the busy road and immediately realized where he'd landed. He'd been expecting the stoop in Spinner's End – why the hell had he come here, instead? He turned to walk back into the alley and apparate home.

"Severus?"

Turning, the site of her still made his heart skip, even though his mind was well aware that she was not the woman he wanted her to be. Lily… They looked at each other for a long moment, neither speaking as they quietly observed the other.

"Where's Harry?" she asked suddenly.

"With a friend."

"So is Jilly," she replied, pausing awkwardly. "Well, listen, I was just on my way—"

"Then I shall not keep you," Snape replied, turning toward the alley again.

"Wait!" Lily cried, stopping him. "Good Lord, Severus," she said with a laugh. "Let me finish. I was just on my way to the Farmer's Market. Would you like to join me? I mean, since we're both childless and all?"

No.

"Yes."

Wait… What?

"Great!" she said with a genuine smile, then paused. "You seem..." she gave him a curious look as she scrutinized him, "better. A lot better, actually. You'll have to tell me how you did that."

Snape just stared at her. That won't be happening.

"Well, the market is only a block over. Let's walk, shall we?"