NOTIMETOEXPLAINIMUSTWRITERIGHTNOW!!!!

Disclaimer: The HP universe belongs to J. K Rowling.

The night air was heavy with the impending rain, even the moon was choked behind the clouds rolling over Spinner's End. The street was quite deserted, and, aside from the faint thunder, eerily silent. Faster than any lightning strike, a hooded figure appeared in the road, and instantly strode forward, winding between the houses, each one the same as the next. The figure rounded a corner and drew a wand from an inner pocket.

Approaching a doorway, the cloaked wizard looked about once, then whispered a spell as he aimed his wand at the doorknob. Of course, it had no affect. Severus was smarter than that. The man swiftly made his way around the side of the house, carefully eyeing the windows for any sign of light. Severus was a night owl, but at four in the morning, and with a coming storm, even the strangest of men will sleep.

Still enveloped in the darkness, the wizard came upon a battered window, grimy with time, and curtained. But this window was near the back of the house, probably a room not often used. Flicking his wand at the frame, the windowsill cracked, giving a muted snap of rotting wood. Sliding his calloused fingers gingerly under the glass, he yanked the window pane out, dropping it to the ground. He waited a moment, ducked low. But nothing happened. The cloaked man lithely climbed through the window, and once inside, quickly looked about, pointing his wand into the darkness.

Levitating the window pane back into place, the man removed his hood. Once the thin curtain was back over the window, there wasn't a trace of light.

"Lumos Minima," he mouthed, and, from the tip of his wand came the faintest shards of light. But he felt that even that was too much. Shielding the light with his hand, he padded silently through the cramped house. The light patterings of rain started on the roof. He knew that there was no way none of the rooms on the ground floor were where Severus would sleep--too vulnerable--heh, heh, heh. So the man ever-so-carefully ascended the narrow staircase.

Four or five steps up, the stair creaked noisily. He froze. Severus was always a light sleeper. But, perhaps, the increasing rain was enough to silence the noise. He carefully tested each stair from then on, until, at last, he stood at the top of the staircase. The soft light from a covered window illuminated a narrow hallway. The man extinguished his light. After carefully opening two doors, both of the rooms almost completely empty, he happened upon Severus' bedroom.

Standing in the doorway for a second, he slipped into the room, closing the door silently behind him. The room contained, he could see by the light of another covered window, only a nightstand, a closet, and a battered four-poster bed, on which was the still form of Severus Snape.

The man ghosted to the bedside. The rain now was coming steadily down. Out of interest, the man lazily pulled open a drawer on the nightstand. It contained a few photographs, some torn, of a young lady with red hair, but even this he could barely see. The man gave a wry smile in the darkness. Snape and his obsessions.

Shutting the drawer once more, he stood for a moment, staring down at Snape, lying on his back, breathing smoothly as he slept. Even in sleep, the man looked harsh.

"Wake up, Severus," the cloaked man said forcibly. Instantly, Snape's eyes flew open, and, from the other side of the worn pillow, his pale hand flashed to his wand, pointing it in an instant, at the man. A blue light revealed the man's features. He had a farmilliar hooked nose, though not so much as Severus, and shifty eyes. But these eyes were seemingly farmilliar to warmth, unlike the stone eyes that glared at him.

Snape stared for a moment, before flinging the tattered blanket aside and launching himself at the man, forgetting about the wand in his hand. The man backed up a pace, calmly aiming his own wand quickly at Snape, pushing him back into the bed and disarming him.

"If I'd come to kill you, Severus, I wouldn't've wasted a moment. I've come to talk, brother."

"I am not your brother," Snape replied icily, remaining still now. Both voices were eerily smooth, but the first voice had more life than the second.

"If you prefer to think of it that way, but, nevertheless, I have something to say of minor importance."

Snape raised his voice now, competing with the thunder, and almost cut him off. "I have no intrest in anything you might ever have to say, Jameson*."

Jameson tilted his head slightly and nodded just a bit. "As much as I'd like to believe that, Severus, I must ask you hear me out."

Snape was quiet, his eyes narrowing in the dark. A flash of lightning sent shadows jumping on the walls of the room. "I made a mistake," the man whispered. "And I'm afraid you're the one who has to clean it up... You see, you're not like me, Severus. You're a creature of habit. Whereas I... I get restless--and when I get restless, I get reckless--"

"--you didn't--!"

"--and I'm sorry that you're the only one I can turn to, because, honestly, that's sad--"

"--the rumor was true, then!--"

"--But it's the way it has to be-- you are my brother, and I know you'll handle things better than I--"

Severus stood suddenly, reaching out to take Jameson by the shoulders and shake him, but his pale hands clutched only air. Jameson was gone. Snape ground his teeth together and lowered his clenched fists.


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* - Pronounced "JAME-ih-son"