Sins of the Children

The boy, small and whippet-thin for his ten years, tripped over his robes as he made his way through the corridors of the Hogwarts Express. Unlike the majority of the other children, young Severus Snape had chosen to change into his uniform at the start of the journey, uncomfortable in the Muggle clothing forced upon him by his mother. He didn't see the need in pretending to be anything other than the Pureblood he was but Mother had said he would fit in better if he appeared more like a Muggle-born. Father had just muttered something about Mudbloods becoming too uppity in *their* world

He slid open the door of what appeared to be a relatively empty compartment towards the rear of the train, hoping he had finally located a seat. Gazing in, Severus found three young boys no older than him, all dressed on Muggle clothes, staring back at him.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, his dark eyes hidden by the mop of hair falling over his face. "There's not much room in the other compartments."

"Why are you wearing your robes already?" asked the smaller of the two dark-haired boys sitting side-by-side. "We only left the station fifteen minutes ago."

"Just wanted to," Severus mumbled.

"I know you," announced the boy seated next to him, a handsome child by the name of Sirius Black whose family was well known around Slytherin circles. "You're that Snape kid, aren't you?" At the boy's hesitant nod, Black smirked. "Your family is one of those snooty 'Pureblood' types. I read your father was part of this group that campaigned to keep 'magic schools for true Pureblood wizards.'"

"Yeah, so?" challenged Severus.

Severus had never met the youngest of the Black boys until today but he had over-heard Father and some of his uncles discussing one evening how he was the black sheep of the family, continuously demanding to wear Muggle attire and befriending Muggle-loving children. He wondered if Sirius knew his own parents had been bitterly disappointed when he failed to receive an acceptance letter from Durmstrang unlike his vaunted elder brother.

Quite honestly, Severus couldn't care less. He knew he was destined for Slytherin like his father and grandfather before him. If Sirius was truly the Muggle-lover his family thought he was then he'd probably be Sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff and they never need speak to each other again.

He made a motion to move out of the compartment when Sirius' loud taunting voice called out to him, "What are yer name again- Severus? Or judging by the size of that nose, Snivellus would be more like it!"

Immediately, the boy who had spoke first was unsuccessful at hiding his snort at the joke, his glasses magnifying his amused blue eyes. The other boy, a rather fragile looking fair child, just shifted uncomfortably in his seat opposite, unable to meet the hurt dulling Severus' dark eyes.

"I heard you're some kind of Dark Arts genius," Black continued, rather enjoying the limelight. "You certainly look the type, all greasy and shifty."

"Severus, I've saved you a seat," called a cool, aristocratic tone of an older boy.

Severus looked up to find Lucius Malfoy standing behind him, his tall and developed breadth of his fifteen-year-old body dwarfing the young boy. He felt Lucius place a firm hand on his slender shoulder and drawing him back. Quiet by nature, he had never been more delighted to see the son of his father's friend come to his rescue though he knew better than to openly display his gratitude. He wasn't entirely sure why but it would only be perceived as weakness according to his father.

"Shoulda known a snake would come help the baby snake," sneered Black, evidently recognising Malfoy too.

He had pitched his voice low enough, obviously intending his comment only to be heard by his friends as he had no intention of inciting a fight with a Fifth Year, but apparently Lucius heard too.

"Don't get high and mighty, boy," Lucius murmured, with a dark smile. "You're not much different from us. Come, Severus."

Even as he retreated to follow the older boy, he could see Black stiffen at Lucius' retort than shooting Severus a smouldering glower. He didn't know what had incensed his First Year counterpart so- his family spent much of his early years on the Continent so he had rarely had the chance to mix with many Pureblood British families like the Blacks- but he knew he had earned himself his first enemy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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Attention riveted to his Potions book, the thirteen-year-old boy wandered through the crowded Great Hall to his own House table for breakfast, successfully managing to pick his way around the other children milling to their own tables. So immersed in his book as he crossed the hall, he did not hear the hushed whispering and laughter of four Gryffindor boys walking in his direction.

"Well, well, Snivellus, aren't you looking you're greasy self today?" smirked amused voice of a hunter who had found his prey.

Severus jerked up from his book to find the Marauders had formed a small circle around him, albeit the reluctance evident on Remus Lupin's features. But ringleaders Black and Potter were on form as usual with Peter eager to prove himself to his idols. It had been Potter who spoken. He should have been expecting this; he knew the Marauders would seek retribution for the other day when he charmed Black's hair green in Charms. But it was no worse than what they did to him; at least there were four of them.

He wished they would go away, leave him in peace. He had enough problems in his life.

Before Severus had time to react, Potter swiftly dove forward and whipped his wand from his robes, throwing it a few metres away. "You won't be needing that."

"I know how to make him all pretty," Black grinned, pulling out his own wand.

Over the hubbub of the Great Hall, Severus couldn't quite hear what Black murmured. He just saw a flash extinguish from the other's wand towards him, blinding him for an instant. When his vision cleared, he heard leering laughter around him as children began pointing to him, nudging their friends to look. He looked down at himself to see his black robes had turned into a frilly pink frock. He glared up at the four Marauders, blinking back tears of humiliation as his cheeks burned.

"Nope, still looks like a greasy git," Potter commented, shrugging.

"Now, Mr Black," Headmaster Dumbledore called from the head table. "There's no need to resort that sort of behaviour. Five points from Gryffindor."

But Severus could see humour twinkling in those blue eyes. He thought this was *funny*. Mortified and betrayed, the boy backed away and ran out of the Hall, not even glancing back when a laughing Sirius broke off the hex and changed his robes back to normal.

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"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" announced a malicious voice over the cocky laughter of his friends.

From his distorted up-side down position, the boy saw James Potter swagger closer to him before squeezing his dark eyes shut in an attempt to hide the pooling tears blurring his vision. Around him, he could hear his classmates giggle as his tormentor's cold fingers feather over his stomach towards the waistband of his underwear...

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Shivering intermittently from shock and the sharp pain of the healing deep wound ripped into his back, Severus sat in the Headmaster's office. Over the past year he had shot up and, now at fifteen, it wouldn't be long before he was towering over the other boys in his year. Still, sitting in this office, he never felt less like the little boy he was in First Year.

But this was it.

Finally he was going to be rid of Black and Potter for good! They were going to be expelled and he would be free to spend the next two years of his Hogwarts career in relative peace. It was almost worth the ragged scar that would forever blemish his back and the absolute fear of his life he felt when he came face to face with a werewolf who wore the guise of Remus Lupin.

"I'm glad you're looking better, child," the Headmaster smiled from behind his desk. "You had us worried for a while."

"Yes," mumbled Severus, not really interested in his own health. All he was concerned about was how soon Black would be thrown out. Perhaps, he would even be gone by morning. "So, when is Black being sent home?"

Dumbledore frowned in puzzlement. "Sorry?"

"I take it Black, Lupin and Potter have already been told they're going to be expelled. Are they gone yet?"

Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "You seem to be confused, Severus, I have not expelled Sirius, Remus and James. Mr Potter did save you life yesterday, remember?"

Severus stiffened, blood pounding in his head. "What?! He saved me from one of his own stupid pranks! I could have been killed." He forced himself to calm. "You have got rid of Black though. Haven't you? *Haven't you?!*"

"Now, Severus, please try to understand," the old man said, in his kind patience. "I cannot expel Sirius without people realizing what Remus is. The boy's life would be ruined if everyone knew he had lycanthropy, it wouldn't be fair since he had no part in this prank and there's no need for him to suffer unnecessarily."

"What about me?" yelled the boy, jumping to his feet. "He's a bloody werewolf; he could have killed me or bitten me. And Black sent me to his waiting arms. That git tried to murder me, dammit! You're going to let them stay here? You're going to let a werewolf remain at the school?!"

Dumbledore quickly stood up and moved around the desk to gently take Severus' hand. The boy was too stunned to protest the contact. "I know, Severus, and Remus is very sorry for what happened. He was so full of guilt when I visited him this morning. And I have taken twenty points from Sirius and given him a month's detention for his childish prank. I'll make him issue you a full apology tomorrow." He sighed then lifted Severus' lowered eyes to meet his gaze. "Now, my boy, I must ask you to keep Remus' secret. Do not punish him for something he has no control over. Try to show a little humility..."

Humility? He had nearly died yesterday, he was nearly torn apart by a werewolf he had been deliberately sent to by another boy. And Dumbledore had the nerve to talk to him about humility.

And suddenly, at that moment, it dawned on him as clear as the brightest star in the sky. His father, Lucius, his family, they were all right; Dumbledore and people like him didn't give a damn about him. He was Slytherin and therefore worth nothing compared to the Gryffindors. Compared to the four golden boys under Dumbledore's protection.

He wrenched out of the startled Headmaster's grasp, nearly falling back from the force of his own strength. "Don't touch, don't you ever touch me."

He ran from the office, ignoring Dumbledore's pleas for him to come back. He ran as fast as he could to the safety of the Slytherin tower and the only people he would ever trust. But he never cried, Severus Snape had no more tears left...

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DECEMBER, 1976...

Nothing to ward off the cold but the light pyjamas he wore, Severus sat on the window sill of his dormitory, silently gazing up to the full moon illuminating the crisp carpet of snow below. He was oblivious to the light snores of his five dorm-mates, completely captivated by the moon. Two months after the incident with Lupin, and he still couldn't suppress the chilled goose bumps prickling his skin when he caught sight of the full moon and all that it symbolised.

Excluding holidays, he had sixteen more months before he was free of this place. Sixteen months- well over a year...

It struck him as ironic that he would be counting down the days until he left Hogwarts when there was a time he dreamt of attending the revered school and meeting other children who were as fascinated by learning as he was. He had always been known as the little prodigy by his family and friends, never really connecting with his peers as a little boy. He thought it would be different here, he would be free to learn and teachers keen to help him on his way.

Had he ever been so young, so stupid?

Today had been terrible. Double Charms with the Gryffindors in the morning then double Potions with them in the afternoon with the Marauders in a particularly spiteful mood meant that Black and Potter had a field day with him. Lupin now visibly backed off from him, probably terrified Severus would squeal his secret to everyone. Severus fought back, threw out the best hexes he knew he could but it didn't matter. At the end of the day, it was one against three since Peter Pettigrew was always keen to shown off to the other two.

When they contaminated a potion so it would explode over the classroom, a potion he was sure would earn at least an 'E', Professor Waldron gave him a month’s detention after deducting five points for thinking he deliberately did it, he felt everything within him fray away into nothing. He felt dead inside. He was so tired of it all.

It would never end, not until Black killed him once and for all. And nobody would even stop him.

With reverence, he picked up the object resting in his lap and held it up before his dark eyes.. Reflected light glinted in his face as the radiance of the moon refracted the silver of the dagger his father bestowed to him on his ninth birthday. The blade was made of solid silver and the handle adorned with tiny emeralds and black opal; the weapon of a true Slytherin. He didn't feel like a true Slytherin; Salazar would have been ashamed to have him in his House. He couldn't even defeat four boys.

He wasn't worthy of being in these dorms. He was a nothing, as deserving of being in Slytherin as Black was of being a Gryffindor. Only he was willing to admit it and do something to rectify the mistake.

Without a second thought, he placed the dagger to his wrist and slashed upwards, tearing through tissue and arteries. Blood spurted out, the pain excruciating. He burned to call out for help but bit through his lip to staunch the urge. His heart slowed, the pain numbing...and Severus closed his eyes, sighing in relief.

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Evan Rosier slept in the bed furthest from the window. He had drunk six glasses of pumpkin juice that supper time and was now paying for it, being pulled from his beauty sleep to relieve himself. As he dragged himself back to bed, he wasn't sure what drew his attention to the window. Maybe it was the shadow, maybe it was an inner sense that a friend was in trouble...

All Evan remembered was screaming, waking up all the boys in their whole dorm and the Sixth Year girls sleeping in the next dorm, as he shook Severus' limp body. He was oblivious to the cool crimson wetness soaking into his own pyjamas and the tears that he shed as he screamed for help. And never would he forget the almost angelic sight of Severus' bleached face glistening in the moonlight, his eyes closed and a soft smile creasing his lips...

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Albus Dumbledore's subdued blue eyes tracked the stumbling tall form of Ulysses Baldragon, Head of Slytherin House, practically carry young Evan Rosier out of the Hospital Wing. The boy, usually proud and collected for his sixteen years, was wide-eyed and shuddering uncontrollably as his finger unconsciously rubbed on a blood-stained corner of his pyjamas. He looked as if he had bathed in blood. The pair was flanked by nine other Slytherin anguished students, all Sixth Years and all covered to some degree in the blood of their classmate.

The blood of a boy still fighting for his life; Poppy and three Healers from St Mungo's striving to keep him here with them.

The Headmaster had been in the Hospital Wing, visiting a First Year Gryffindor girl with stomach pains, when Baldragon had carried the lifeless, lolling body of Severus Snape in. The Slytherin Head was almost as pallid as the child he carried, a boy he often held up as one of the most gifted students at the school. The trail of blood dripping from the Slytherin tower to the Hospital Wing had yet to be washed away.

Why had Severus tried to commit suicide in such a brutal manner? If only the boy had come to him, he would have helped him.

There was little point in denying the truth; the blame rested fully on his shoulders. He was the Headmaster and he aware that Severus Snape was still suffering from that stupid, idiotic prank of two months ago. And, of course, why not? Severus was only fifteen and had nearly been torn to bits by a werewolf he later had to face in class, and he had to face a second betrayal at the hands of the teachers who were meant to protect him.

And, in so, blatantly protecting one boy's life, another boy was losing his.

In bitter hindsight, Albus knew he should have found another way to shield Remus Lupin and he certainly should have dealt out a harsher punishment to the Black boy. He had been so proud of young Sirius when the then eleven-year-old had been Sorted into Gryffindor House despite coming from a long line of Slytherins and sympathisers to the Dark Arts. It was like a miracle that the boy was untainted when their world threatened by the rise of powerful Dark Lord recruiting so many of their former Slytherin students. And when Sirius had found his niche with the gentle-natured Remus and James Potter- the grandson of a good friend of his- he had been delighted that at least one child had been saved.

Even when Sirius had gone too far and risked Remus' condition in such a dangerous manner, Albus felt he had to protect these boys. After all, they were so boisterous and happy compared to the depressed little Snape. The Slytherins were so closed-off from the rest of the school, prizing privacy from the day they were Sorted. He had just assumed Severus would have blew off steam to one of his House-mates and that would be the matter closed. What was the sulking of one Slytherin boy when compared with the futures of three good, innocent Gryffindor children?

To be frank, Albus hadn't really been concerned with Severus' well-being other than the boy was unharmed after the incident. Until he had caught sight of Severus' face the follow night when he had so coolly informed the boy that Black had escaped unscathed for his part in the incident. Never before had he ever been the cause of such hurt, such deep betrayal.

In the days that followed, he had tried to corner Severus and help the boy accept the situation was not intended to be malicious. He wanted Severus to gaze at him in awed admiration again. However, the boy was having none of it. He avoided Albus, never made eye contact with him and whenever he was forced to speak to him, it was in a dulled tone that more than conveyed his disenchantment.

But this...? Dumbledore never considered Severus, ever the Slytherin personified, would be so disillusioned that he would attempt to take his own life. He took it for granted that Severus would just brush off this prank as he did all the others the Marauders directed at him. But looking back, why did Albus expect the boy to be a doormat forever? If it had been Slytherin children victimising a Gryffindor student, he would have come down on them like a pile of bricks. Why did he assume a Slytherin who was just a child would be more capable of coping?

There was only so much a person could carry, and it seemed this was the straw that had broken the camel's back.

When Severus recovered and returned back to lessons, Albus would change everything. No longer would he turn a blind eye to the most silliest yet hurtful of teasing and he would forced the Slytherins out of the shadows to join the rest of them. He wouldn't allow such a trivial attribute as House to dictate how he dealt with students. And Severus would finish his education at Hogwarts standing tall and proud.

Everything would be different now.

Suddenly he heard the door open from the private room where Severus was lying and a sickly, blotchy-eyed Poppy Pomfrey stagger out. The medi-witch was usually so confident and her iron-will apparent through her caring aura. Now she seemed almost lost.

"Poppy...?" Albus asked fearfully, standing up to catch the woman as she nearly fell into his arms.

"Albus," she wept, her voice cracking and his neck wet from where her face was pressed into it.

The Headmaster forced himself to sternly push her away back. "Poppy," he demanded, "how is the boy?"

"He's stabilized," Poppy managed to tearfully inform, "but he's not breathing on his own and...Oh, Albus, he's lost so much blood. They don't think he'll ever wake up. Even if he does, he won't be the same boy. His brain had already began shutting down when he was found. He's already half gone..." She broke off, unable to continue talking about gifted young boy whose life was effectively over.

Albus shut his eyes in mourning as he held the sobbing woman once more- the medi-witch who was meant to nurse sore tummies and sniffles, not proclaim a fifteen-year-old child brain dead.

Everything *would* be different now. He wasn't fit to be mentoring these children when he couldn't even protect one who had needed his guidance so urgently. And he could never look at Sirius and his friends again without knowing the price their friendship had cost.

"I'll inform his parents," murmured Albus, distantly.

It was the least he could do for Severus now.

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Many of the stunned Hogwarts pupils had gathered to watch in numbed silence as Marius and Antonia Snape carried their only son's belongings out of the school. Severus had already been transported to a specialist unit in St Mungo's for rehabilitation although, a week after slitting his wrist open, the boy remained deeply unconscious and the experts held little hope of a recovery. No-one, from the First Years to the Seventh Years and the teachers, had really come to terms with the fact that one of their own had nearly died at his own hands but the rumour mill was starting to spread stories of torment and accusing glares would turn to three suddenly timid Gryffindors.

But the fourth of their gang remained oblivious to all this. Three days after Severus Snape's attempted suicide spread like wildfire through the school and, in turn, the Slytherin community, Sirius Black had been called into the Headmaster's office.

Naturally, the boy had been apprehensive, and while he had heard Snape had never left a note suggesting why he tried to pop himself, he couldn't delude himself into thinking his own jokes were not part of the reason. Why did Snape have to go cut himself? They were only playing with him; it was a Gryffindor/Slytherin tradition. Sirius had heard Snape would probably be a vegetable for life and even as the guilt pervaded his very soul, the waves of anger and resentment were more prevalent. Just because Snape wanted to die, the Headmaster was going to point the finger at him. It wasn't like he told Snape to kill himself or he have stabbed the Slytherin himself.

It wasn't fair. He wondered if James, Remus and Peter would eventually be called into Dumbledore's office too.

The old man looked world weary and had seemed to have aged a century over the space of three days. There was no twinkle of Dumbledore's blue eyes, not a single smile was spared for Sirius as he was told to take a seat. Never before had Sirius felt so uncomfortable in the presence of a man he thought of as a genial grandfather figure and he could not shake the distinct sense foreboding that this was one reprimand he would not leave unscathed.

"Sirius, my boy, there is no other way to say this," began Dumbledore, his blue eyes solemn and melancholy as they bored into the squirming boy before him, "your mother has requested to withdrew you from Hogwarts effective immediately. I believe she plans to hire a private tutor as she feels the environment here is not beneficial to you."

Sirius leapt to his feet in astonishment. "No, she can't do that!"

"She's your mother," Dumbledore explained calmly, as if he were talking about the weather and not suggesting sending Sirius back to his bleak house of darkness, "you're still underage; she has every right to chose her son's education."

"You can't let her do this. You know what she's like, she's mad."

Suddenly the sorrow overcastting the Headmaster's eyes were replaced by a cool fury. "You should have thought of that before this mess, shouldn't you? How can I keep you here when your mother argues that your friend and the school feed your temper?"

"Wha...?" Sirius trailed off, uncertainly.

"A boy has lost everything that he is all because of silly, childish pranks you and your friends so enjoyed...pranks I did nothing to stop." Dumbledore sighed, deep and heavy like a man who carried the weight on of the world on his shoulders. And, in many ways, he did bear the weight of the world of his students. "Sirius, my dear boy...it should never have come to this. I can protect you no longer, it's time for you to accept the consequences of your own actions and it's time I accept my ability to lead this school died when one of my children felt that his only escape would be in death."

Sirius shook his head. What was the Headmaster talking about- was he going to quit? He hated this; it was no-one's fault but Snape's. He forced the image of the quiet, odd little Slytherin he met on the train in First Year out of his mind.

"No...it's not you..." the teenager uttered.

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "Yes, it is. Severus hurt himself and, as Headmaster, I should have made myself more available to him when I first suspected he wasn't coping with matters. Severus' future is, for all intents, gone now." He closed his eyes, exhausted. "You have to be strong in the coming years, Sirius, things are going to change. They have to."

The following day, his uncle promptly arrived to pick Sirius up and deposit him at the doorstep of his family home. The moment he stepped inside, he felt the cloying oppression and the dark aura that threatened to engulf him. It was a stark comparison to the buoyant, merry atmosphere of Hogwarts.

"Hello, Sirius," greeted his mother, a self-satisfied smirk creeping across her lips as she regarded her forlorn, bone-tired son. She pulled him into a tight, strangling embrace ignoring his struggles to free himself. "My dear son, I thought I'd lost you."

"What are you talkin' about?" demanded Sirius, despite his fears of what his return to this house might do to his mind and soul.

From an early age, he'd been aware he was different from his family. They obsessed over blood and lineage, dreaming of the day Purebloods would rule the world with Muggles and Muggleborns perishing at their feet. He'd been horrified and vowed to follow a more honourable path. When he was eight and first met James Potter at primary school, his determination was all the more fortified by his friend's support. Now he was back in the pits of hell and he didn't think he could escape a second time...

"You're finally one of us, boy." His mother smiled at him; her eyes gleaming in insidious pride. "What you did to the Snape boy, picking off the competition...Don't worry, Sirius, my son, we'll help you on your way. No more of that high-and-mighty Gyrffindor/Mudblood nonsense that old fool Dumbledore filled your head with, we'll soon set you straight and prepared you for manhood. Dumbledore and his lot can't come between a boy and his family, his *destiny*."

Sirius could only stand there in her grasp, his eyes wide in horror at his mother's insane ranting. He was suddenly very afraid of what his mother planned to do with him now that she had him in her grip. With Dumbledore out of the picture now that news of his impending resignation was known, there was no-one to save him.

His mother patted his cheek softly. "Relax, Sirius, everything is how I dreamed it would be. You begin your private tuition starting Monday."

"Tuition?" mumbled the boy.

His mother smiled so chillingly that a shiver of fear bit into him. "Yes, you're a very lucky boy. I've found you a wonderful teacher by the name of Mr Riddle."

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Two weeks after Severus Snape was moved to a proper hospital setting and since Sirius Black had been called home, Albus Dumbledore had set in motion his final act as Headmaster before resigning his position to Minerva McGonagall. He actively Re-Sorted the three remaining Marauders, by-passing the Sorting Hat in favour of reassigning them their new Houses himself. Peter Pettigrew moved to the Hufflepuff tower, Remus Lupin moved in with the Ravenclaws and, fittingly, James Potter was renamed a Slytherin.

It had not been a decision taken lightly but it was only easiest option for the boys. This way, those who sought to see them punished could be placated with the fact the former Marauders would, for their remaining months at Hogwarts, live un-insulated from their mistakes and be pried away from their destructive friendship with each other. It was far better than expulsion. Dumbledore might not have been able to protect Severus and Sirius but at least these three had a chance.

For James' part, he was beginning to wonder if Snape had the right idea. In a matter of days, he'd gone from the coveted role of Sixth Year's most popular boy to a virtual pariah. His old Gryffindor friends wanted little to do with a boy whose hands were stained with the blood and his new House-mates loathed him with a passion for his part in Snape's attempted suicide. It twisted his stomach to think he had to spend the rest of his school-life living this torture with Sirius away and Remus and Peter choosing to practically cut contact with one another.

James watched when the beautiful Lily Evans laughed musically at a joke Joshua Major, a Seventh Year Ravenclaw, told her. He felt jealousy burn through him, following the pair scrupulously as they walked past arm-in-arm.

"She may be a Mudblood," Evan Rosier, who had an annoying habit of sneaking up to people undetected, whispered hotly in his ear, "but she's not stupid. She would never look twice at a murderer, Potter."

"Shut the hell up!" James spat back, whirling around to face Rosier.

Suddenly, Marius Lestrange and two other Slytherin boys descended on them, standing behind Rosier supportively. "Well, come on then...This is how you liked to play it, isn’t it? Four to one." James glowered but backed down. Rosier just smirked, shaking his head in disgust. "I didn't think so, coward."

In his peripheral vision he saw Remus watching him and he sent his fellow Marauder a hopeful glance. Remus frowned, uncertainly, until one of the Ravenclaws he was standing with spoke to him and he turned away dismissing James.

Lestrange had noticed his plea and grinned in bitter humour. "You're one of us now, Potter, get used to it. He won't want nothing to do with you anymore."

His body rigid with tension, James only relaxed when the four boys back away from him, their fun for the day over. He hated this; once he was so popular, girls flocking to him and boys eager to be his friend. Now he had nothing. It was all Snape's fault, why did that stupid boy have to go hurt himself? He could have just told them to stop, to leave him alone.

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SEPTEMBER, 1978...

He wasn't sure what had brought him here. Remus was meant to be at an appointment to discuss his lycanthropy but instead he found himself in a quiet ward of St Mungo's Hospital, riveted to the spot as he stared at a pale, motionless form lying unaware on the bed in front of him. The form of Severus Snape, the boy he had helped to destroy. And, in turn, had in many ways claimed his revenge by ruining the lives of his four persecutors and the man who pandered to them.

Although they had just left school that June, Remus hadn't spoken to Peter in over eighteen months but on rare occasions he did bump into James. The conversation was always awkward, stilted and an on-looker would never have realized they had once been as close as brothers. James was now in some low-level job in the Ministry, between angling for a promotion he was busy wooing Hestia Reid, a former Beauxbatons student training to be an Auror. Neither had seen Sirius since the day his parents withdrew him from the school, however, both had heard the whispers on the grape-vine that their former friend now spent much of his time in the company of Lucius Malfoy, a suspected follower of the Dark Lord whose sinister presence was starting to cast ominous shadows across the wizarding world.

In contrast to other young men of eighteen, Remus had never been as solid or strong, especially now that his transformations at full moon were increasingly traumatic without the distraction of his Animagi friends. Nonetheless, he was positively plump compared to the slight, skeletal frame of Severus. The other boy had certainly lost at least a stone in weight and while even the fragile Remus had bulked out over the past two years as he approached impending adulthood, Severus seemed as slight as the fifteen-year-old boy he was at the time of his attempted suicide. He had grown a good few inches but his cheeks appeared as smooth as an adolescent child lacking any signs of facial hair.

Was this what Severus was doomed to? Forever lingering in a false childhood, never to grow up and see the world for himself.

Remus had always thought someone in a coma would look merely asleep. Instead, Severus appeared closer to death than to the innocence of sleep. He was gaunt, his skin so very pallid and transparent, clinging to his bones. If it wasn't for the magical sphere hovering above his chest recording his heart rate and breathing, Remus would have thought him a corpse.

He jumped when abruptly a medi-witch strolled into the room, smiling at him as she fussed over Severus checking the IV connecting into his neck pumping in potions and nutrients and expertly shifting him.

"Hello," she greeted, Remus oddly offended by her cheerful manner in the presence of his sick classmate. "Are you a friend of Severus'?"

"Eh...we knew each other at school." What was he meant to say- 'oh, I was one of the mean little buggers responsible for Severus being here'?

"Well, it's nice that you've visited, isn't it, Severus?"

The way she spoke to Snape as if he was awake was almost morbid. Remus certainly found it disconcerting that some part of the comatose boy was aware inside and passing judgement over him.

Finally, Remus plucked up the courage to ask the question that was constantly on his mind, weighing on him and dragging down his soul. "Is...is he getting better?"

The nurse stilled in her ministration. She smiled sadly at him. "Oh, child, I wish I could say yes but I don't believe in lying to people. Your friend will probably be with us for a long time. Losing so much blood in such a short space of time is too much for the body to cope with, the brain doesn't receive enough blood and it shuts down. He's very, very lucky to still be alive." She smoothed Severus' hair from his face tenderly. "It's just so sad he's so young." The nurse comfortingly patted Remus' upper arm. "I'll leave you alone with him, let you catch up." And she was gone, closing the door behind her.

He had hated the pity in her voice, the sympathy directed at him when he deserved none. If only she had known who he was, what he had done. Yet, he prayed she would come back; he didn't want to be alone with Severus, the recriminations haunting his bleached features and jeering at Remus.

Inching forward, the boy reached out a hesitant hand to touch Severus' exposed arm. The skin was warm and dry, not the deathly cold he imagined. Remus shuddered violently as his fingers ghosted over the lumpy, irregular skin on his wrist. Biting his lip to the point of drawing blood, he forced himself to turn Severus' arm so his palm was facing upwards. The other boy's fingers curled in a harrowing supplication as if pleading for Remus to join him in his living death, the ugly and deep ragged scar marring his soft skin from wrist to elbow.

Oh Merlin...

Suddenly, his chest was tight with regret and Remus was over come with deep sobs, crying for all he was worth. Not since the day his father had sat him down to explain the full consequences of his lycanthropy would entail had he been so choked up.

One had to toughen up when one lived a solitary life as a vicious creature of fear dictated by the moon. It was why he had been so delighted when Sirius and James had first befriended him then offered him unconditional fellowship despite finding out the monster that hide within him. So grateful he had been that they would actually want to be friends with *him*, he had blindly followed them into everything and never once questioned how they targeted Severus no matter how uncomfortable he felt when he sensed the other's humiliation. He was a prefect, he should have done more.

He might never had physically harmed Severus but, in his silence, he was as responsible for forcing the boy into this empty existence as James, Sirius and Peter. And he would carry the image of the pale and pinched boy before him until the day he died. A boy he had hurt as surely as if he had been the one to slice his wrist open.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Remus whispered, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet, "I'm so sorry."

****************************

SEPTEMBER, 1991...

On an isolated island off the coast of Southern England, an eleven-year-old boy cowered before a dour, greying woman as she repeatedly berated him for the so-called sin of spilling his milk. Even the years of emotional abuse had not left the child immune to her frequent criticism of everything he did and his custodian could easily chiselled away with words alone at the his fragile confidence and self-respect.

"You're just useless, boy, just useless," the aging woman tutted, shaking her head. "Look at you, your father would have been ashamed to call you his son. You can do *nothing* right." Despite his efforts, a muffled sob escaped the boy's pursed lips and he prayed in vain that his tormentor had not heard. Nothing passed the woman's sharp senses and, further enraged by the child's weakness, she moved forward to shake him hard. "Oh, grow some backbone, boy, look at you blubbering away like an infant. It seems that's all you're good for."

"Please unhand the boy," a curt, female voice commanded, the Scottish lilt in her accent discernable to even the boy who had never left the island since his infancy.

Both the boy and his guardian turned to find a tall, dark-haired woman dressed in emerald robes standing in the open door. To the child's trained eye, he could see she was not the sort to be tolerate disobedience.

"Who are you to tell me what to do with him?!" quizzed the boy's guardian, nonetheless releasing him.

The boy rubbed his stiff upper arms unconsciously, not taking his gaze off the newcomer who now smiled kindly at him. "It is time for him to see through his destiny." She glowered at the tormentor. "I have come for the boy since you did not see fit to send him on the train to Hogwarts with his First Year contemporaries."

"I've decided the boy is not going to that school, he is to be schooled at home with me."

"That is not for you to decide," the newcomer stated firmly. "This boy has had his name down at Hogwarts since the day he was born."

"I...I'm not clever enough f-for Hogwarts," murmured the boy, his head bowed in shame.

The Scottish woman smiled. "My name is Minerva McGonagall," the boy started at the famous name, recognised it instantly, "that's right, I'm the Headmistress of the school and I think you are clever enough. You did single-handedly defeat a great evil when you were just a year old. In the wizarding world you have been cut-off from, you're known to many as the Boy Who Lived." The woman moved closer to him then lightly brushed his dark fringe from his forehead to stroke the lightening shaped scar marring the milky skin. "It is time for you to come back to us, Neville."

And a boy named Neville Longbottom- the Boy Who Lived- walked hand-in-hand with his new Headmistress to his new school and the turbulent future ahead of him.

THE END