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"

Packing the few things he needed, Severus left his home that very night--or, rather, morning--, just as the sun cast long shadows of the houses in a dim yellow light. It was humid, making his stringy hair hang in thick locks about his shoulders. Securing the house carefully, closing every window, and leaving the house in an even worse state of disarray, Snape picked up the two battered suitcases and turned, sharply, in place.

An instant later, a block from the leaky cauldron, Snape re-appeared. Diagon Alley was just starting to come to life, and he quickly made himself one of the crowd by walking briskly down the alleyway. He threw one or two glances over his shoulder, out of habit, his cold eyes darting about. He stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and, without hesitation, approached the counter. The man behind the counter regognized the harsh-faced man and quickly grabbed a key off of one of the many hooks on the wall behind him. He even took the courtesy of walking him to his room and unlocking the door.

When asked how long he would require the room, Snape replied with "A week or so," and then was left alone. Not even bothering to unpack his bags, he sat on the dusty bed in silence, staring down at the floorboards. His stupid brother... He knew it would do no good to refuse to accept responibility--as usual, responsibility was thrust upon him, and it would do no good to run from it. His promises and loyalty to Dumbledore ensured he couldn't flee, and even if he could, he would be found. He was surprised that, even now, he wasn't being interrupted. It bothered him. Being left alone with his thoughts was, honestly, uncomfortable. He had a week at best to form a plan. If he had any idea how to find his brother--that is, any way that didn't ensure he would be killed when found--he would.

Standing in front of the one window, he looked down into the Alley, watching the people come and go, conducting normal business, leading normal lives, and encountering normal pitfalls. He envied, yet dispised them.

And so Severus spent his week locked away in that room, fervently trying to think, but the only sure plan he could come up with was the one he was trying to avoid. But he had no choice. So Snape paid for the room and left the Leaky Cauldron, heading for Hogwarts, where he knew that, with only a few weeks until start-of-term, Dumbledore would be.

Ooo! Please PAMS!

The potions classroom was dark, dank, dusty, and unfathomably silent. Not a shard of light made itself known. Not even the jars that lined the walls on tall shelves, that often glowed, were luminescent. The air was stale and thick, yet cold. Suddenly, the door was opened, squeaking on it's ancient hinges. Snape stood in the doorway, peering into the darkness. Then, with one flick of his wand, the few torches burst to life, the collected dust making the flames flare up violently as spiderwebs burned away.

Snape strode into the classroom, passing between the dust-covered desks, and to his own mahogany desk. He peered down at it, although it was completely undisturbed. Turning from it, he circled the lab tables, but there was no sign of any disturbance at all. He pursed his lips, mentally scolding himself for the foolish thought, then swept from the room and out of the dungeons.

The castle was quite empty. And silent. One could see the tiny dust motes swirling through shafts of light streaming through open windows. The shuffling and clicking of his own footsteps echoed softly around corners and into the curved ceilings. He ascended the staircases, then had a thought. He shuffled along the fourth floor, slowing now, and quietly opened the doors of the library. The smell of parchment and polished wood wafted out of the room. He stood in the doorway a moment, blinking with a vacant expression.

His gaze was focused on one of the long tables, where sat someone with their back to the door, hardly moving at all. There was silence for a few moments.

"Hello, Severus."

The old man turned, smiling over his half-moon glasses, then stood to greet his friend. Snape took a few steps forward. Dumbledore stopped a few feet away, remembering how Snape had leaned away slightly the last time he was embraced. Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, somehow able to read the potion master's blank facade.

"What troubles you, Severus?"

Snape sighed silently, and his fingers twitched at his side a bit.

"I think... I may have a problem. My... brother--" he loathed to say the word "--has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. And he's dragged me into it."

Silence again.

"And I need your advice," Snape finished, avoiding using the word 'help'. Dumbledore's smile twisted back and he nodded, prompting Severus to continue.

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I know I'm teasing you guys, but that's just how I write When term starts--probably the next post--it starts coming together... Can't wait to wtire some moooore!

Pams!

Snape sighed, glancing each way down the table at the Professors. He caught Dumbledore's eye. Neither of them had any definable expression. Then Dumbledore faced front, giving one wave of his hand. The great oak doors creaked open, revealing the students. The seventh years shuffled in first, then the sixth, fifth and fourth, and so on. Until all that was left was the first years. The oak doors closed, and Professor McGonagall left her seat to await the first years.

Severus' eyes scanned the Gryffindor table, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. This did not go unnoticed, but his attention was suddenly back to the doors as they opened. The stool and the hat was placed before them, and the hat did it's usual beginning-of-term monologue. But during this, his eyes were scanning the students. Standing in their black robes, mouths agape, he sneered at the thought of teaching yet another year of imbeciles. Each one looked stupider than the last, but none of them caught his attention.

Then he scolded himself. He didn't even know for sure the circumstances, and yet he was so worked up. Then the hat was quiet, and McGonagall stepped up and unfurled the scroll. As each student was called up, he scrutinized them, his eyes narrowing. Bit by bit, the crowd diminished, and he became more nervous. Then the last student was called up. A Ravenclaw.

He blinked. He blinked twice. Dumbledore stood to give his speech, introducing "Professor" Lockhart, whom Snape had the unplesantness of spending a week in the castle with. He shuddered at the thought of the entire term. But, nevertheless, he gave a sigh of relief, and actually may have smiled slightly--just a little twitch of one. The Professors on either side of him gave incredulous glances, but he paid no attention.

If his brother had, indeed, had a child, they were not here. Of that he was certain.

New Reader!...
love your fic so far, although I'm curious as to why you skipped Harry's first year??? :-\
PAMS!

Wow, Snape having a niece or nephew...

My thoughts go out to that poor child.

PAMS!

Ooooh! This is so interesting!!! PAMS!

whoah dude this is deep in a very awesome way... more!!!

"Sir? Sir!"

Snape looked up from the newsprint, already aware of what Mister Filch had to say. "Don't take them to Dumbledore, bring them to me!" Ooooooh, those boys... They wouldn't slip into Dumbledore's protection just yet. Potter and Weasley would pay consequences. He looked back down at the photograph of the car as Mister Filch ran back up the staircase to the ground floor. He paced a few times, momentarily forgetting his own dilemma.

A few minutes later, Mister Filch presented the two frightened boys to him. He stared at them angrily in silence for a few long moments, leaning across one of the tables in his office. They stared back, wide-eyed and fearful.

"Oh, how I will enjoy punishing you for this..."

**********


Dismal. The first day of term was always absolutely dismal. After explaining to each class the seriousness of potion-making, and effectively making two students cry, Severus was ready to be quite alone. Standing at the long table at the front of the classroom, he prepared a potion which was to be the topic of the first lesson. As he expertly sprinkled in some dried Belladonna, the door opened to reveal Dumbledore. What was it now?

"Headmaster," Snape greeted unenthusiastically.
Dumbledore padded into the room, smiling in response.

Awkward silence. Dumbledore broke it.
"So it appears that your concerns were for nothing."
"Certainly not," Severus retorted. "My brother had a child--sooner or later, that will catch up to me. Fortunately, just not now."

Another silence. Snape broke it.
"He broke the rules. I will be the one facing the consequences. Unfortunately, there is no alternative. No...civil...alternative."
Albus sighed.

"Is that all you came to say, Headmaster? Or did you want to tell me that you've rewarded Potter for finding an ingenious but illegal way to arrive at Hogwarts?"
"They have been punished, Severus, but not to the extent you'd prefer."

I'd prefer to have expelled them their first year, he thought angrily as he stirred the potion, but he didn't want to have this argument. "Good night, then, Headmaster."

Albus took the hint and left, leaving Severus to his cauldron.

The next few days lulled Severus into forgetting his problem, and immersing him in the pleasure that was his job. There was nothing he loved more than attempting to make his students appreciate potion-making. There were a few good ones. A few good Slytherins. And Malfoy's son, of course. But it did cheer him up to be able to make the really foolish ones suffer.

Two weeks into the term, Snape was making his rounds, checking the potions he had instructed them to brew. Awful. Simply awful. There were two good cauldrons out of the ten. One belonged to the annoying Miss Hermione Granger, and the other to Malfoy. He was about to deduct points from the Gryffindors for cheating when the door to the dusty classroom opened. Snape whipped his head around, standing straight. Dumbledore stood there, his expression unreadable. All the students turned their heads.

"Severus, may I speak with you?"
Snape didn't move. Dumbledore sighed, then turned to look at someone just out of the potion master's view.

A small, twelve-year-old girl took two steps into the room, looking about it. She had shoulder-length brown hair, wore a lace choker, and... When she looked at Snape finally, he was looking into all-to-farmilliar eyes. He half-shook his head slowly and shifted his weight. The students were aware of his uneasiness.

"Severus, this is Tanya Reynolds. She will be part of your classes this term."

Reynolds? No. There was no denying, no doubt in his mind, that this girl Tanya was a Snape. This was the nightmare he'd been waiting for.


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Sorry I haven't posted in so long! I hope this makes up for it!

Last Updated 4/4/2011