The Snape Chronicles

Severus cowered in a dark corner moaning slightly with each of his mother's cries. He heard the dull smack of his father's hand as it struck his mother's face. Anger rose within him, at his father, for his drunken mistreatment, at his mother, for letting the bastard carry on so. And at himself, for doing nothing, for sitting, afraid, a bystander to her every scream. "SMACK", his mother was in too much pain to even whimper upon the hulking brute's last blow. The silhouettes of her battered form laying still at the feet the monster flashed before his eyes. A lump rose within his throat and the pit of rage within his chest became too much for him. Ignoring the jets of icy pain that shot through his thin frame, he rose from his dark hole, ready to defend the powerless woman. His father's bloodshot, hazy glare now focused upon the boy, and his drunken aggression found itself a new vent.

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The next day, he purposely waited until his father was gone to the Ministry before rising. Every bone in his body ached from the beating of last night, and looking into his mirror he saw that his pale face was blackened with bruises. Limping out into their meager excuse for a kitchen he spotted his mother painfully struggling to get breakfast. "Good Morning, Severus", she said, attempting a cheery greeting, in spite of her obvious misery. He smiled thinly in response, marveling at her ability to continue on, to feign joy in the face of grief. Looking out at the gorgeous summer morning, he was reminded that he would soon be gone, attending his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Mixed feelings crossed his mind, excitement at the prospect of leaving this hell, guilt at the thought of abandoning his mother to his father's mercy and finally, dread, knowing that he would soon again have to deal with that prig, James Potter. How could someone still whine when they had practically everything he wondered, reflecting upon his nemesis and glancing over the Daily Prophet. It seemed to be mostly news of more muggle murders, committed by Voldemort during his rapid ascension to power. Severus had often times heard him spoken of as one of the most powerful wizards yet living, to be defeated only by the great Dumbledore. Some said he was a hero, pushing for the continued cleanliness of wizard blood, others, who feared even his very name, a tyrant. Severus himself had no opinion on the matter; he had his own troubles at the moment.

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But later that evening he would again reflect upon Voldemort's teachings, when his father,but a half-blood, returned home again, drunker that ever. With a stupid laugh, he hurled his son into a closet, magically sealing the door locked. From his dank prison, the boy was forced to listen to his mother's every howl and shriek of terror and agony, their deafening sound only conquered by the noise of his father's intoxicated curses and bellow of cruel jubilation. In a state of panic and frenzy, Severus yelled for and begged the filthy mudblood to stop, but his pleas were in vain. The torture continued, long into the night, finally ending with a dull thud, at which all noise ended.