Something bright
Severus
He was nine when he decided to run. Not because he was brave or impulsive—he was neither. He ran because he didn’t know what else to do, and staying in that house felt like slowly drowning in silence and fists.
Their house always smelled like damp wood and old beer, even in the summer. The windows were always shut tight, trapping heat and tension in like a prison. Tobias Snape worked at the Spinner’s End mill—what was left of it. He came home with hands rough as gravel, fists heavier than guilt, and a mouth that never ran dry of venom. The first time Severus had a bruise he couldn’t explain away, he learned to stay small. Unseen.
Eileen—his mother—was less physical, but just as cutting. Her words sliced in places fists never could. “Burden,” she often hissed. “You ruined me. If not for you, I’d be something.”
There were days she cried in bed all morning, and others where she followed Severus around the house muttering about how she'd left everything—money, a future—for nothing but a wasted child. He’d learned the pattern of her moods. He’d learned when to stay out of sight. But today, he couldn’t take it anymore.
He packed what little he had—an old, fraying sweater, a cracked notebook, and a jam sandwich he stole from a neighbor’s windowsill. He ran. Not even knowing where, just away. His legs were sticks, his arms thinner than the kitchen broom handle, and his ribs stuck out like they were trying to break free too.
He stopped at a playground on the nicer side of town. One he’d only ever seen when walking to school. It was quiet, summer-humid. And that’s where he saw her.
Lily Evans.
Everyone at school knew her. She was the girl—the one with red hair like a flickering flame and green eyes that looked like they belonged in some storybook. Everyone liked her, and she liked everyone, except the ones who were cruel. She was the only brightness Severus had ever known, and she'd never even spoken to him before.
She was with her sister, Petunia, who looked about as excited as a cat in the rain. She stood stiffly while Lily hopped across the monkey bars, beaming with pure sunshine.
Severus tried to slip away before they noticed. He was used to going unnoticed. But her voice caught him.
“Hey!” Lily called. “Do you want ice cream?”
He froze.
No one had ever asked him if he wanted anything. Not once. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. The question didn’t even register properly in his head at first. He turned, blinking, heart thudding. She was smiling. Petunia rolled her eyes behind her.
He nodded. Just once.
Lily grinned like it was the easiest thing in the world, then linked arms with Petunia and led them all toward the ice cream shop. Severus kept a few steps behind, as if afraid he'd wake up.
He’d never been to that side of town, never walked past shops that had bright windows and clean sidewalks. He stepped into the ice cream shop like a stranger in a dream. It smelled like sugar and cream and childhood. Lily must’ve seen the way his hands trembled.
“You should get cotton candy,” she said. “It’s bright. You need something bright.”
So he did. And it became his favorite flavor—not because of the taste, but because it was the first thing anyone ever gave him just because.
Petunia paid. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes flickered to him with quiet pity. He hated it. But not as much as he hated how much he needed that ice cream.
They spent the whole day together. It was the best day of his life, and it felt like being lifted out of darkness for the first time. Lily talked about school, books, how much she hated math. Severus just listened. And when she said she could use help studying, he wanted to cry. He wasn’t dumb, even if his father said he was. He was smart. He was.
That day became the start of something.
Lily talked to him the next day. And the one after. She waved in class. She offered her lunch when he didn’t have one. Lily never asked about his home. And he was glad.He became someone else around her. Someone worthy. She invited him to sit with her and her friends. People stopped teasing him about the “Spinner smell.” Not because they liked him—but because Lily did. She saw him—and that was more terrifying than anything else, because it meant she could also stop.
But she didn’t.
He started tutoring her, going to her house after school. Her family never asked too many questions, but they watched. Her mother always had extra food. Her father always made sure he had a ride home. They gave him more money than necessary for tutoring. More than he could justify.
He always declined gifts. He told himself it was pride. Truthfully, it was fear—fear of becoming a burden, of being thrown away once he was too heavy to carry. He didn’t want them to look at him the way his mother did.
And every night, when he came back home, the shadows waited. His mother’s moods. His father’s rage. The bruises came and went, but Lily’s voice stayed like a shield in his mind.
Lily’s parents said her grades were improving. That she’d get into Hogwarts Boarding School. Severus said nothing, but his stomach sank at the thought. If she left, his brightness would go with her.
Lily noticed.
“We could apply together,” she said. “They have scholarships.”
He didn’t believe it at first. But she did. So he worked harder than he ever had.
When the Hogwarts boarding school letters came, Lily was ecstatic. They opened them together. Severus had gotten in on a full scholarship. His heart nearly burst.
He went home smiling. He forgot to be afraid He shouldn’t have. His father had just been fired. A man at the mill had lost a foot, and now the whole place was under investigation. Tobias was drunk and furious. Severus came home with a smile, letter in hand.
His father was drunk. His mother was mid-meltdown. He didn’t hide the letter. He was too full of hope. Tobias laughed. Read the letter aloud, mocking him. You? A school like this? Who do you think you are?”Then Severus made a mistake—he said, “I got a scholarship.”— too fast, too proud.
The slap was immediate. Blood. His nose. Then the belt. His father’s words were slurred, cruel, accusing Severus of trying to abandon them. His mother joined in, wailing about betrayal, about how she’d thrown her life away for him.
He didn’t fight back. Didn’t scream. Just endured. Like always.
He healed in Lily’s home. Slowly. Quietly. She never asked what happened. He was always glad.
“You’re loved, you know?” Lily said, her voice soft, but firm, like she wouldn’t let him argue with her even if he wanted to.
He didn’t reply—not really. Just gave a stiff nod and looked away. The words didn’t sit right in his chest. Like trying to swallow something too big for your throat. Love was something people like Lily got. People with bright futures, clean houses, smiling parents. Not boys from Spinner’s End with bleeding noses and bruises hidden under their jumpers.
But she didn’t push. She never did. And that was the worst part. She meant it.
And he wanted to believe her.
September came faster than he thought it would. He packed his small bag in silence. He didn’t even have a proper suitcase—just a worn duffel Lily’s father gave him after he “found it lying around in the attic.” Severus knew it was new. Still had the tag tucked inside the lining. He didn’t say anything. He never said anything when people tried to help. Gratitude felt too close to weakness, and weakness got you hurt.
He used the tutoring money to buy a heavy coat that hung past his knees—room to grow, he told himself. In truth, it hid the bruises on his arms and the way his clothes hung too loose over his skinny frame. He washed his hair twice, combed it until it looked almost normal, and kept it long, so it could shadow his face, his nose, his everything.
He didn’t want to smell like Spinner’s End. Not today.
Lily’s parents walked them to the train station, holding Lily close, whispering words of love into her hair. Severus stayed a few paces behind, clutching his ticket, staring at the way the sunlight made Lily’s hair shimmer like a flame. She looked back at him and smiled, and he felt warmth crawl up his chest like maybe—just maybe—he belonged here.
He didn’t say goodbye to his parents. They hadn’t spoken since the incident. His mother pretended he didn’t exist. His father didn’t need to pretend.
He stepped onto the train—and that’s when it happened.
The boy was taller than him, lean and lounging with confidence like it was stitched into his skin. His uniform was perfectly fitted, hair dark and artfully messy, his smile just a touch too proud. Everything about him screamed wealth. Ease. Someone who’d never gone to bed hungry or flinched at loud footsteps in the hallway.
Sirius Black.
Severus turned slowly, heat rising behind his ears. And for the first time, their eyes met.
His own dark eyes narrowed into slits. That old, familiar hatred roared to the surface like a reflex. He didn’t have the energy to fake civility. Not with someone like him.
“Of course you haven’t,” Severus snapped, voice sharp like broken glass, “you’ve never had to step outside your manor gates.”
Sirius blinked, taken aback—but just for a second. Then his expression shifted, something darker flickering behind the smirk. Severus looked away first.
Then James Potter appeared.
Severus didn’t even have time to brace himself.
“Ignore him,” James said quickly, stepping between them, elbowing him in the ribs. One hand gripping Sirius’s shoulder. “Sirius says dumb things when he’s nervous.
James turned to Severus, and smiled—really smiled. Like Lily did. Like sunshine.
“I like your eyes,” he added. “They’re kind of… stormy. In a good way.”
Severus didn’t know what to say. His chest tightened. Something fluttered, painfully, deep inside. And he hated it. Hated how easy James made it look—being kind, being warm, being everything Severus wanted to be and could never reach.
And for a brief, flickering moment, Severus forgot to hate himself.
“Thanks,” he wanted to say but his eyes just flickered to the floor.
Remus, who had been quiet until now, gave Sirius a light smack on the back of the head. “Try not to be a walking insult today, Sirius.” Peter Pettigrew hovered behind James, half-shielded by the taller boy, eyes wide and curious. He introduced himself and Severus took one look at him and decided he didn’t like or dislike him. He was just there—nervous, quiet.
They all began introducing themselves, Lily doing most of the talking as usual. When Severus introduced himself, he didn’t look at Sirius once. But he felt Sirius’s eyes on him, all sharp angles and strange curiosity. It made his skin crawl.
When he mentioned he was from Cokeworth, Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of it, sounds made up.”
Severus snorted. He couldn’t help it.
“Of course you haven’t, Black.”
The words dripped with disdain. That name, that tone. It reminded him of his father—of slurs and slaps and the smell of whisky on his breath. Sirius flinched.
James, again the peacemaker, chuckled and added, “I’ve never heard of it either, but I’m curious, is it near London.”
And Severus—damn him—brightened.
He stuttered a bit, trying to explain the dull, factory-filled town he’d come from. Somehow, James listened like it mattered. Lily beamed at him for trying. That alone made it worth it.
As the train pulled away from the station, Severus sat by the window, watching Lily chatter, watching James grin, and trying not to notice Sirius watching him.
Always watching him.
He told himself it was nothing. That Sirius Black just liked to be annoying. That there was nothing behind that gaze but arrogance and pity.
But deep down… something told him Sirius saw something more.
And Severus hated him for it.
Because whatever it was—he wasn’t ready to be seen.