The Upper Hand

Dear Charity,

In answer to your last letter: things are fine here. FINE. Just like they always are. That means shut up and quit worrying about me, if you didn't catch the insinuation.

I am, of course, assuming you've gotten back from your holiday in Scotland as planned. At least, I hope so. I wouldn't want this laying around for three days so that your wretched, mentally handicapped house elf could nose about and read it. If there are any drool spots on this parchment, be aware that they did NOT come from me.

I've been doing absolutely nothing this holiday. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing. Father is blessedly absent most of the time attending some ball or gathering of his noble, reputable friends...oh, wait a minute. This is my FATHER we're talking about, so it's more like he's gone to a let's-all-get-drunk-and-fondle-the-muggles get together with that group of alcoholic, paranoid schizophrenics he likes to deviate brilliantly evil schemes to take over the world with. But you didn't hear it from me.

Astonishingly, I DID achieve some modicum of productivity here by myself. Remember that Stimulatory Potion we were trying to invent during the last week of term? The one we were going to brilliantly humiliate Black and Potter with, but couldn't finish because you chickened out and refused to sneak into Professor Duvall's private stores and BORROW that book of dangerous ingredients and their properties? Well, I was wandering around Father's chambers yesterday, and apparently he had the exact same book stashed away with the rest of his "secret" Dark Arts supplies that "nobody knows about". Honestly, if the man thinks I'm as lacking intelligence as HE is, he is sorely mistaken.

Anyway, we were simply missing a measure-I-can't-remember of pickled Grindylowe loins... do you believe that? Cleverest two potion students in the entire school, and together we didn't even think of it. Jesus. Blatantly obvious, if I do say so myself.

I finished the potion, and it works like a charm. Let's just say Black and Potter are going to start term with quite a...bang.

For the record, we'll just say that your presence was blunting my intellectual brilliance, shall we?

Well, that's all for now, and give your house elf my regards. Tell her she's a nasty, blundering little imbecile and if she even TRIES to molest me again she'll have to get used to life as a no-handed house elf.

Yours in GENIUS!

Severus

***

Dear Severus,

You greasy little shit. (The corners of Severus's mouth quirked up as he read at his success at annoying her.) If I recall correctly, there were two people involved in the let's-steal-from-Professor-Duvall idea, and you wussed out in as equal a manner as I did.

At any rate, I am glad to hear you completed that potion. Though I can't help but wonder how it is you sound so certain that it will work? Keeping in mind that the potion was made to deliver Black and Potter instant, noticeable, and ah... unmanageable... boners for a whole day, I am going to laugh my ass off if you tested it on yourself. (Severus blushed furiously but forced himself to read on.) I know you don't usually seem to mind self-inflicted pain, but...Jesus Christ, Sev.

Wish I'd been there, though. Seeing the brilliant genius Severus Snape walking the corridors of his dark manor with an enormous boner must have been a priceless image. Perhaps I'll slip some of your own brilliance into your pumpkin juice one evening at dinner and we'll see what happens.

My holiday went as well as can be expected, thank you for not asking, you little git. But you'll never believe who I saw there. The Yoda of Idiocy himself; the one, the only, Sirius Black. I mean, I knew he was Scottish, but I'd dared to hope that wherever he lived it was far, far away from where we were going. No such luck.

The second day we were there, I was standing at this fruit stand thing with Mum (bear with me; my parents are muggles after all and they find fascination in such things), and I heard this voice behind me: "Well, well, well! Couldnea say ah've seen such a pretty thing round hedre! Whay doon't yeh come with me forda lettle walk, eh?" (I'm horrible at writing dialect; just make that five times less articulate and you get the picture.) Then I turned around and he saw who I was. Got this expression on his face like 'oh. GOD. Sev's friend...' He didn't even say anything, just ran off. It was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen. I saw him a couple more times in town, but I think he was trying to avoid me.

But Sev, you know, he's grown a goatee over the summer and I must say... (Severus's jaw dropped in shock and indignation. "BLACK???" He howled.)...And right there, I know you just made that face. You know, the one where your eyes go all squinty and your mouth hangs open and you look like you're stoned...(he quickly snapped his mouth shut.)...Wish I could have been there for that one, too.

By the way, I'm going to Diagon Alley the day before term begins. Want to meet there? We could go down Knockturn and look for some interesting potion ingredients...We haven't cooked up anything really good for Lupin and Pettigrew in awhile, and we've only got one year left to do it!

Owl me back if you're going to meet me,

Charity

P.S. - Give Trippy a break... she's a VERY good house elf, you know. And she never tried to molest you! She LIKES you, Sev, and all she did was kiss you on the cheek...

Severus smirked as he folded the letter up and placed it in the drawer of his bedside table with her other letters. He then ripped a scrap of parchment off of a discarded attempt at a Charms essay and scrawled a message back to her.

Charity,

I haven't been to Diagon yet, so I'll see you there. Father probably forgot anyway, so I can go when I please.

Severus

PS: -- That elf did NOT just kiss me on the cheek, Char. Sure, that's what it looked like, but could you see her hands? Didn't think so, but let me tell you, they weren't where they should have been.

Then he took the piece of string that had come on her letter and tied the scrap to her black owl's leg. The owl screeched impatiently and Severus shoved a pellet ungraciously into its beak, earning himself a cut on the finger.

He may have gotten along with Charity well enough, but her owl positively hated him.

"Bye, Ink," he jeered at the owl as it swooped back out the window.

Charity had purchased the owl in her fifth year, and it had hated him from the start. Then again, everyone had seemed to hate him in his fifth year. Everyone except Charity.

Up until his fifth year, Severus had been something of a loner. He didn't really have any friends, but it didn't bother him. In fact, he preferred solitude to "companionship." He'd tried making friends with all of the other Slytherins at first, but truth be told, they were just too stupid to get along with him. They didn't get his jokes, didn't understand his scathing remarks, and couldn't figure out what he meant when he made snide remarks pertaining to Potter and Black's mysterious disappearances every night.

He'd simply given up on the concept of friendship after awhile, and the concept of friendship seemed to give up on him. And he liked it that way. What was the use of a friend, anyway? Someone who followed you around all day, talking incessantly, and copied off of your homework? There seemed to be a lot more negative aspects to the idea than positive. Or at least, that was his opinion on the matter.

That is, until he found out that friends could be very, very useful indeed.

Severus's parents had never had a peachy, "Potter Family" relationship. His father was as good a father as he was a husband, and that wasn't saying much. He constantly cheated on his wife, and he barely even noticed his son. Severus was infinitely grateful that he lived in such a big manor, or otherwise he would have to listen to his father's drunken rages every night. Yelling, screaming, hitting, throwing, every time his mother tried to reason with him. Senan Snape was not a reasonable man.

Senan Snape was, in fact, a Death Eater. One of the very first. Not the typical Death Eater...the kind who fell to their knees in blubbery puddles of veneration and unremitting "My Lord"s...the quiet kind. He worked behind the scenes, out of the spotlight. As a result, he was feared. The other Death Eaters noticed the respect he earned from Voldemort (while it wasn't much, it was more than they got), and they, in turn, respected him. Senan Snape may have been impatient and unreasonable, but he was certainly clever. He himself had created what he dubbed to be "The Snape Family Motto": "To maneuver in the shadow of silence and solitude is to have the upper hand."

It was one of the first--and only--things he had ever passed on to his son. Ambition was more important to him than family. Severus's mother was really the only one who talked to him and asked after him.

Severus thought his mother was beautiful. She had married Senan when she was very young, just out of Hogwarts. She was pale, thin and fragile looking. Her eyes were almond shaped, dark and liquid. Deep. Her skin was papery thin, her hair silky and long and black. She had the look of a beautiful girl who had been shut inside a closet for too long, and in a way, that was exactly what she was. Trapped.

Occasionally, Severus would notice bruises on her...her throat, her upper arms... and he would ask her about them. She would just smile and smooth his hair back, those liquid eyes cloaked in mystery, and tell him not to worry. So Severus didn't, although he knew he should. He just didn't want to think about it.

When Severus had turned fourteen, the abuse spread like fire throughout the house. It was no longer reserved for Senan's wife in chambers at night. Severus began to hate him...but couldn't hate him. He wanted his father's approval so much...so badly...it became a mania. He needed it to survive...and he never got it.

After awhile, Severus's mother had had enough. She could bear her own abuse, but not her son's. One night, at a very late hour, she had come to Severus's bedchamber and woken him up. She had nothing but one bag with her, and Severus hadn't had to ask what was going on. He got up quickly and began to pack. His mother hugged him fiercely and whispered to him that she'd be back and to wait for him here. She just had to let his father know.

Severus sat on his bed for a long time, clutching at his bags and waiting...waiting...waiting. Finally, the door burst open. He stood instantly, grabbing up his bags, and then he froze.

Senan Snape had entered his son's chambers, and Severus's mother was nowhere in sight. He stood towering over his son, breathing heavily, his eyes bulging with dark rage. "Planned to go with the bitch?"

Severus stayed frozen.

"Planned to help her?"

...Frozen...

"Planned to leave your name?"

...Listening to his heart beating furiously...

"Planned to leave all your pride behind?"

...beat...

"Planned to forget all that you have been given?"

Beat

"PLANNED TO BETRAY YOUR FATHER????"

Beat

"YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD!"

Beat

"I never wanted children."

Beat

"I should have had you killed and gotten it over with right when you were born."

...BEAT...

"Look at all the pain you've caused."

...BEAT...

"She's dead, boy."

... ...

"And for that, you can blame yourself."

Senan stopped speaking at this point. Words were worthless. They did nothing. He did the only thing that ever gave him a satisfying response from his son.

Beat

That had been over Christmas vacation. Severus wouldn't have even gone home if it weren't for his mother. His mother needed company...He never asked his father how she died. Deep down, he knew. He knew... he should never have gone home...never...look at all the pain you've caused...

He went back to school the next day. He skipped all his classes. He spent the whole day in the prefects' bathroom.

He remembered it vividly. Sitting there, leaning against the enormous bathtub, holding the razor. It was so shiny, so flawless, so sharp. So unlike the reflection he saw in it. He hated it. Look at all the pain you've caused...

He spent the whole day just staring at that razor, working up the courage. I never wanted children...

And just as the last rays of the sun were cut off from the window, just as he lowered the razor, corner first, to his wrist...

BAM.

The door to the prefects' bathroom flew open, and in charged Charity. He'd locked the door, and she'd been waiting for the bathroom for an HOUR, and what the hell had he been doing in there all day...

Then she spotted the blood as it started streaming down his arm. She simply stared at him for a moment, shocked, as he looked blearily up and halfway registered that it was that one girl...that prefect from Ravenclaw...he sat by her in Potions sometimes...

He ignored her and slowly tried to force a grip into his other hand, grip the razor and just make that last cut...but before he could even lower the blade a foot swung at his hand from above him, crunching his bleeding arm against the bath. He lost his grip immediately as blood began to cascade down the porcelain behind him.

She silently bent down and picked the bloody razor off of the floor. Then she turned and shut the door to the bathroom, locking it magically. She then ran back to Severus.

She grabbed his bleeding arm and wrenched it up above his head, placing her wand tip over the gushing incision. Within moments, all that remained as evidence of Severus's deed was the pool of blood he was sitting in and the splashes of dark red against the bath. And the small scar on his left wrist.

He was definitely out of it, but he wasn't unconscious. Even in his foggy state of mind, he would never forget what she did next.

She sat next to him, and talked. Just talked.

He never really paid attention to what she was saying, but her voice was soft, comforting, washing away the bloodstains on his soul. She sat with him for the rest of the night. In the morning, when they were both asleep on each other's shoulders and soaked through with his dried blood, the door burst open once more.

McGonagall had walked in, then. She'd sent Severus to the hospital wing straight away, no matter how much he protested that he was all right. Severus assumed Charity had explained what had happened. He never asked her. All he knew was that McGonagall--shockingly--never confronted him about it after that. Not once.

From that point on, Severus and Charity had been inseparable. He wasn't sure whether it was out of pity that she befriended him, or out of fear that he'd try to kill himself again. She simply stayed with him for a week like a shadow, but eventually she'd made him talk. Made him tell her everything.

The two of them had remained mostly distant from all the other students. Severus's hate of Potter and his friends had doubled after his mother's death; a mixture of envy and pure spite for everything Potter was. Everything Severus wasn't. Charity helped him deal with his anger in a most unconventional way. She helped him come up with the best pranks to pull on them. They never got caught, but they were always working on something. Using potions was their best method, as they were both brilliant on the subject.

Now, about to begin their last year at Hogwarts, Severus's attempted suicide was almost forgotten. Not forgotten enough that she didn't worry occasionally, but forgotten enough that it didn't stop them from having fun. Lots of fun.

He watched the owl soar out over the estate and into the blinding horizon, feeling that August 31 couldn't come soon enough.