1994
The first thing that went through Severus’s mind when began to shift into consciousness was pain. The second response that naturally followed was confusion, which always seems to come about when injured. The final was that he felt annoyance. What was that nibbling on his ear?
Scrunching up his eyes, Severus decided that he did not want to wake up just yet. What had happened to him anyway? Had he been punished again for something stupid? If he had kept a record of how many times he had crawled, sometimes literally, back to Hogwarts after Death Eater meetings just because he had had a disagreement…
The Death Eaters! With the thought came panic, causing the Potions Master to bolt up, only to gasp in pain, a pain that coursed through his abused body. He was then startled by something that hit his head. Whatever it was let out a loud, angry screech. Severus covered his head as best as he could with his arms, praying that this was not some sort of torture game. Lucius could be very creative...
But after a moment of shielding himself, nothing else happened. Confused and irritated, Severus put down his sore arms and instantly caught sight of a very angry looking white owl. As he looked at it, he scowled in bewilderment. Said owl glared right back and let out another screech of indigence.
Raising an eyebrow at the cheeky bird, the wizard turned his sharp gaze about the room. This was definitely not a Death Eater prison, despite the bars on the window. Why were they there? Scowling deeper, Severus’s obsidian eyes looked around to find that it was just an ordinary Muggle room with a broken television in the corner, a single bed, and a desk. Although it was a plain room, the wizard assumed it was just an unkempt guest room. But where was he at again?
Swinging his feet off the bed, his bare feet hit the cool wood, irrupting a sigh from the professor. With the shock of the cold came the rushing back of his memories. Last night there had been a meeting, and he had been discovered. Thanks to sheer dumb luck he had gotten away, and thanks, no doubt, to the Headmaster’s hilarious sense of humor, he had gotten away by bottle cap port key. The old man could have at least told him about the port key…
And here he was, in the home of the glorious Harry bloody Potter, spawn of Satan himself. Why me? the wizard only allowed himself the briefest moment of self-pity before he glanced back at the owl, who was watching him like a hawk… or rather, like an owl… Bloody hell my head’s messed up! Severus scowled at his own thoughts, letting his head fall into his hands.
Taking a few moments to collect himself, the Potions Master tried to stand, only to have it feel as though fire were shooting throughout his body. Grimacing, Severus promptly ignored it in favor of finding out where everyone was. Had Potter the Insolent simply shove him in this room after finding him? That is certainly what it looked like. He probably didn’t even clean out the wounds properly.
There was a moment when Severus thought he would fall back over as he started to sway, but was able to recover himself. He could not look weak, especially here, not in from of Junior Potter and the abominable Petunia Evans. No, Dursley, or something along those lines, the wizard frowned. Oh well, he could figure out all the details later. First things first: where was his cloak?
Scanning the room once more, Severus’s heart began pounding louder and louder in his chest. Where was it? Where was his robes? He had everything in them! Those robes had his potions, his wand, the damnable port key, and many other things that the Potions Master would prefer stayed only in his hands. Had the Death Eaters gotten it? No, no, it was somewhere in the Boy-Who-Should-By-Every-Right-Be-Dead-By-Now’s house. But where?
Frustration turned to anger when the wizard realized that he was still too tired to actually get up and walk around. Sitting back on the bed-carefully- Severus took a moment to take several deep breaths. But when he did, something else sparked in his mind. Looking about the room, the Potions Master got the oddest feeling that he had been here before, in this very room.
His mind flashed broken scenes before him. For just a moment, he could recall laughter, and smiles… There was something white taking up a grand amount of space and flowers, lots of flowers. He could almost recall his hands touching something so soft, it was better than velvet. It had been red. And something pulled at his heart as the strangest sensation of being happy here was almost overwhelming. Something wonderful had happened here, something… better than magic…
But just as the glimpse of a shattered memory came, it left just as soon. A steel door within the professor’s mind slammed shut, keeping him from straying too far into paradise he had but tasted. Now, with a throbbing headache, Severus groaned, cursing himself from letting his mind wander so carelessly. He knew better than that. With a mind as complex and sensitive as his, Severus could not afford to let his mind roam away with frivolous things. What kept the Potions Master sane, but just barely, was work; focus.
Whatever he thought had happened here was probably just some sort of weird dream he remembered with having a fever earlier. Severus knew for a fact that he had never stepped foot inside this house before last night. Hell, he had never even been to Privet Drive in his life! But why then did he feel so strongly about what he had just thought of? What he had just felt?
Scowling, Severus shoved all memories, all feeling aside in hopes that he could locate his missing wand. He really did need it. He wanted to check himself over to make sure Potter the Glorious Brat hadn’t caused any lasting damage when caring for him. Wouldn’t that just be hilarious?
As his mind began to clear, the Slytherin looked down at his hand to find that it had been wrapped up. So that’s why it hurt so bad, he thought darkly. Memories of Lucius Malfoy came to mind and he recalled the murderous glint in those gray eyes. A shiver ran down the professor’s spine at the thought of just how close he had come to being dead.
How could he have been so stupid? Albus had told him not to interfere with normal Death Eater activity, so why had he stepped up last night when similar things had happened in the past and he had stood by and watched? Why had he felt so compelled last evening to throw caution to the wind and act on impulse? That was a very Gryffindor like thing to do, he realized with self-loathing. Where had been his Slytherin cunning? But then again, if his cunning had not been there, he was sure he’d be dead at this time.
Playing with the bandage on his hand, Severus’s mind began its hazardous thinking again. Now that he was no longer a spy, what would that mean for the Order? Would they simply just get a new spy? That did not seem likely or possible, as the Potions Master knew he had been the only one with all of the qualities and suitable past to make the ideal spy. Having been a Death Eater before, and then possessing the rare, but invaluable, gift of Occlumancy combined with skill as a Potions Master and his knowledge of the dark arts had truly been an asset to Dumbledore. The old man had always counted on him, the shadow, the eyes and ears, to bring back valuable information. Having no friends or family had also kept Severus’s mind sharp.
Yet, what did he have after the first war? He was still left with the same things he had had before the war: his Dark Mark, his skills, his loneliness, his bitterness. After the first war, nothing had gotten better for the young spy, it had all gotten worse. Being captured and thrown into Azkaban for six, horrifying months had been enough to make the Potions Master snap. He recalled those dark days, those long, endless evening waiting in dread as the dementors came out... Shivering, Severus tried to block out those memories before they threatened to overwhelm him again.
But what did he have this time around? He had risked his life spying on the same group of power mad wizards for nearly sixteen years, had risked life, limb, and sanity, only to have everything dashed away within less than an hour. True, he hated spying, but what he hated more was the fact that now someone else would have to be found for the job. How would he redeem himself now? He was useless!
Brooding silently, Severus tried to go over every way he could still keep his promise to Lily. He would redeem himself! He had to. Lily would want it, she would expect it! But what could he do now that he was obsolete as a spy? Focus solely on teaching?
The professor snorted at the thought. He did not mind the aspect of teaching, he rather enjoyed that, but what he hated were children. If only he could teach adults rather than children. Would that be any better? Or would that make him even more frustrated? But then maybe teaching was right out anyway since Severus was not a people person… in fact, he hated everyone until they proved themselves in his eyes. Life was just safer that way.
Fully awake now, Severus decided that there was nothing for it but to try and get out of this little Godforsaken room. He did not like the feel of it anymore. For some reason he connected a happier time with this place and he just could not stand that it looked so bare and drab now. Deep down, if Severus would have admitted it, he would have realized that it hurt his heart.
The journey to the door was exhausting, but the Slytherin was determined not to look weak. The owl gave a screech that clearly said, “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” but Severus ignored it and went on. What did a bloody owl know anyway? Especially the bird of Potter the Magnificent?
Once reaching the door, a weight seemed to have been lifted off the professor’s shoulders. He had conquered the length of the room!… Which was a lot smaller now that he had a proper look of it. Damn he hated being hurt! If he could just get to his potions he would be able to help himself recover faster, and that was a priority. He did not want to be stuck here in Potter Land any longer than he needed to be.
Putting a hand out on the wall to steady himself, the wizard pulled open the door. To his surprise, the outside of the door had five heavy looking locks and bolts. What kind of room was this? The windows were barred and the doors overflowed with locks? What, did Potter and Petunia not like the idea of him in the house? Well, probably not, but still! He was not an animal to be caged! The implication that he was feral stung, and the Potions Master vowed himself some sort of revenge.
The owl, no surprise, leaped from her perch and soared about and out the door. Although it had been a cheeky bird, Severus found himself smiling at the sight of her. No doubt she was only angry with being cooped too. The wizard could not blame her, as he too felt the need to be out of that despicable room. But then a new thought came: what if she was not supposed to be out?
Oh well! Severus thought merrily, hoping the bird really was supposed to stay put. It would give him the satisfaction of defending himself, and winning an argument with Potter the Bratty.
When he was out before the stairs was when Severus thought that perhaps he was pushing himself too hard too soon. He hated stairs, just about any kind of stairs. But he always went up and down them everyday.
Sometimes, embarrassingly enough, he froze when he looked down the many steep stairs of Hogwarts and in his own home. It was a long way down to the bottom. Not as long as the stairs in Hogwarts, certainly, but it still quite a distance down. And he had never been on these stairs before. Plus, in his injured state, what if his legs gave out, or something of the sort?
“Damn!” he hissed, backing away from the top of the stairs. Why did he have to be such a coward?
Normally he would have thundered down as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the closing of his throat, and the sweat that poured out, but he could not today. He looked over his shoulder quickly to see if there was anyone there behind him, but there was not. Humiliatingly, his breath started to quicken and his heart racing. He just knew any minute now someone was going to pop out from behind him and push him. He just knew it!
Backing away further still, Severus decided that he was still to weak to brave the stairs for now. It was not a cowardice decision when you were only thinking of your own health, right? That’s what he was doing after all.
Gliding back into the abhorrent little room, the Potions Master was about to close the room when the Snowy Owl flew back in with him. Shutting the door with a silent click, the wizard went back and sat down on the bed. He sighed disgustedly, before letting his head fall back into his hands, in the familiar way it always did. His hair curtained around his face once more, giving him comfort and security, letting him believe the outside world could not see him.
Again, a little nip on his ear and then on his hair brought Severus around. He looked over to his right to see the white owl sitting on his knee, looking up at him with concerned amber eyes. Just the barest hint of a smile formed on the man’s lips as he stroked the bird’s soft, downy feathers. “So what do you think?” he mumbled softly. “Are you laughing at the fact that the great Severus Snape is afraid of stairs?”
The owl hooted sympathetically. “Ah!” the wizard nodded. “You pity me. Do not pity me, I cannot stand anyone’s pity!” The owl cocked her head. “Ah, well, perhaps you can secretly, my little friend, but do not let me find out about it. I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I cannot afford to look weak!”
When the owl hooted merrily, Severus’s smile broadened. “Thank you for understanding, my friend. This is the most intelligent conversation I have had in a long time.”
When the owl began to snuggle up close to him, and rub her head gently up against his good hand, Severus could not help but feel his heart warm, if only slightly. Leaning back up against the wall, Severus stoked the bird unconsciously, enjoying the feel of feathers against the palm of his hand. Although he was certainly pathetic, he did not have to let anyone else know. His secret was between himself and the owl.
1966
Severus walked timidly up to the stairwell. He was annoyed with himself for shaking so much. It was just the stairs, after all. He was not a baby. He would not cry!
Taking the handrail in his tiny hands, the six year old began putting one foot in front of the other. Why did the stairs have to be so long? It would be so much better if there were no stairs at all. Ramps did the same job, right? Why did it have to be stairs!Unfortunately, the child had been focusing so hard on getting down to the bottom, he did not hear the slight squeak of his parents’ bedroom door. He did not hear the heavy breathing that tried to still itself, or the normally heavy booted foot that worked to silence itself. All the boy could hear was his own thoughts encouraging him along the way down.
“Brat!” came a loud shout from behind, startling the child enough for him to loosen his grip of the rail. The next thing the tiny child knew was that something hard pushed against his back and then he was falling down the stairs at a frightening speed.
It seemed every part of his body connected with some part of the stairs, and the child’s body lit up with pain. Several times, Severus could have sworn that he had heard sick cracking noises, alerting him that he more than likely had broken bones. He hated the stairs! He hated them!
When he landed on the main floor, in a crumpled mess, was when Severus heard the cruel laughter of his father. Tobias descended quickly and stood over his son laughing. “You might be a worthless little shit!” he howled. “But damn can you be fun at times!”
It was lucky for the boy that his father did not see the tears streaming down from his eyes. It was lucky that Tobias did not hear the sniffles or see the shaking. Trying to untangle himself was torturous and useless, so the boy had to wait until his mother got back home. Although she was not the best mother, she at least would not let his father kill him.
Whimpering softly, Severus looked back up the stairs he had just come from and shuttered, eliciting more agony on his broken body. It would be several hours before his mother came home to fix him up. Several hours that he laid there looking at the abusive steps. From that day on, Severus Snape vowed to be more alert, more cautious, and prayed that one day, he would have enough power so that no one would ever hurt him again.