Chapter 4
After going up the staircase, Severus stepped into Dumbledore’s office, and when the headmaster saw him for the second time, he immediately asked if he wanted some lemon drops, as if to show he had learned from his minor mistake during their previous meeting less than two hours ago.
Severus said nothing as he reached over, grabbed a handful of the candies, and shoved them into his pocket. While he would never admit it to his old boss, those sour sweets had always helped him relax during his tenure at Hogwarts. If his childhood home was as he remembered it then he would need every last one of them to keep his nerves in check.
Dumbledore made no further mention of the candy, but when he spoke next, there was clear amusement in his tone. “I take it that means you’re ready to go now, my boy?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, Professor,” Severus replied drily, his voice tinged with resignation.
“Then might I ask you one question, if you don’t mind?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “I have noticed that you keep your belongings very preciously, so having that dent on your trunk is very curious indeed.”
Severus froze for a fraction of a second, his sharp features betraying nothing but mild disinterest. “Well, yes, you see, it fell. Very hard. On some unsuspecting surface.”
His voice was monotone, yet there was a distinct glimmer in his dark eyes. He fought to suppress the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was a battle he was clearly losing.
“Ah,” Dumbledore said, his tone suggesting he didn’t believe the explanation for a second. “Such a tragic accident. One might almost think the surface in question had, perhaps, done something to deserve such treatment.”
Severus raised an eyebrow, his lips finally betraying the faintest hint of a smirk. “Indeed. It was an unfortunate... coincidence.”
“Quite unfortunate indeed,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, best get going now, shall we, my boy?”
Dumbledore turned gracefully, his robes sweeping behind him -sparkly purple robes adorned with stars, no less. Severus could at least respect the headmaster’s unwavering commitment to the 'wacky old wizard' stereotype, even if the sight of him in such attire was borderline distressing to his eyes.
“I took the liberty of looking up the closest public Floo network to your residence,” Dumbledore continued. “We shall Apparate from there to your house. Is that acceptable to you?” He glanced at Severus over his half-moon spectacles, waiting for an answer.
Severus hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “That will suffice.”
“Very well, then,” Dumbledore said, retrieving a small pouch of Floo powder from his robes and offering it to Severus.
Severus took a pinch without a word, stepping toward the fireplace. He had taken Floo more times than he cared to remember, but the effect was always the same: disorienting, dizzying, and vaguely humiliating. It wasn't his favoured mode of transportation, but it was a necessary evil if he wanted to get away from the castle, even for a short time.
Dumbledore gave Severus the location, and he walked into the fire, dumping the powder before disappearing in a flurry of green flames as he said the location out loud.
He stepped out of the Floo -or, more accurately, lurched out of it. He had practiced, truly, trying to master a dignified exit, but what he considered a refined stride translated to something more like an awkward stumble in his too-lanky, too-young body.
So there he was, hacking up a lung as he tried to rid his throat of cinders, his clothes now dusted with ash. And then, just to add insult to injury, Dumbledore stepped through the fire moments later, emerging effortlessly graceful, just as Severus (begrudgingly) remembered.
Severus glared at the floor as he coughed again. He hated the Floo.
After Dumbledore so graciously cleaned the soot off him, Severus followed him outside. He swallowed what little remained of his dignity and, without a word, took hold of Dumbledore’s arm for Side-Along Apparition. He could have done it himself, but drawing attention to his knowledge of magic he technically shouldn’t know was not worth the risk.
The moment they landed, Severus let go of Dumbledore’s arm as if it had burned him. He had no intention of being treated like a child, even if, for all intents and purposes, he was one again.
As Severus lifted his head, he took in the sight of the house he had lived in even as an adult. It was technically in better condition than it would be two decades from now, but that wasn’t saying much. No child should ever have to live here -ever. And judging by the look on Dumbledore’s face, he seemed to share the same sentiment.
The entire area looked as though it hadn’t been touched or cleaned since it was built, probably a century ago -maybe two, if he was being generous. But among all the decrepit houses on this miserable street, the Snape residence managed to be the worst of the lot. The paint was chipped, whatever remained clinging on as if by sheer desperation. The windows were as filthy as ever, barely letting any light through. And the front door? It had an ominous air of certain doom, as if daring anyone to so much as lay a hand on it.
Severus wouldn’t want to toot his own horn, but honestly? It was perfect. Exactly as unwelcoming as he wanted it to be. The only real drawback was the unfortunate fact that his father still lived in it, and that meant -like it or not -he’d have to deal with him.
“Well, thank you for the enlightening journey, Professor. A truly riveting experience. It seems our business here is concluded, so I’ll just extend my deepest gratitude, and -oh, would you look at that, time to go! Safe travels, may your return trip be as delightful as this one was. Same time next week for the meetup? Perfect.”
Severus barely finished his rushed monologue before hoisting his trunk and making a break for the stairs.
“Ah, my boy,” Dumbledore called after him, his tone far too amused for Severus' liking, “I still need to speak with a guardian about the situation at hand.”
Severus froze mid-step. Of course he does.
“Let me save you the trouble, Headmaster,” he said, turning back around with his most convincing trust me expression. “I’ll tell them myself. No need to waste your valuable time.”
Dumbledore’s smile remained infuriatingly pleasant. “Apologies, Mr. Snape, but this is a matter I must address personally.”
Severus exhaled sharply through his nose. “Tch,” he muttered under his breath. Fantastic. Just fantastic.
Severus went back down the steps, mumbling remarks under his breath that, if overheard at Hogwarts, would have earned him a month in detention. Dumbledore, ever patient, simply stood there with his hands neatly folded in front of him, projecting the same unwavering serenity that Severus had always found both amazing and deeply infuriating.
"Very well," Severus muttered. "But don't expect a warm welcome."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Dumbledore said cheerfully, as if he were going to settle down for tea and biscuits rather than enter a home that was undoubtedly designated as an opening to the fiery pits of hell.
Severus turned back to face the door and squared his shoulders. Right. It is time to get this over with. He lifted his fist to knock, then quickly stopped himself. Idiot. It was his house. There is no need for formalities. Instead, he took a big breath, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled it open.
The door creaked unsettlingly, as if it, too, disapproved of his returning home. The air inside was thick with dust and stale booze, and he could hear the distant sound of the wireless playing something dull and depressing. Nothing had changed.
Severus stepped inside, taking care to disguise his looks. Dumbledore followed, eyeing about with silent interest, but saying nothing.
Then, from the far end of the room, a gruff voice broke the silence.
"The hell's all this racket?"
Severus clenched his jaw. And so it begins.
If anyone had been foolish enough to ask teenage Severus what he feared most, he would have first shot them a look of utter disdain, told them to fuck off, and, for good measure, flung a stinging hex their way to ensure they never made the mistake of speaking to him again. Because, frankly, Severus was an asshole.
But if he had answered, he wouldn’t have said the werewolf that nearly made a meal of him. Nor the boy who led him straight to said werewolf. Not his roommates, who seemed to despise his very existence, and not even the Dark Lord, whose mere presence sent chills down the spines of grown and feared adults.
No. It would be his own flesh and blood.
His father.
What with all the beatings his father had so generously handed out for an ever-growing list of offenses. The biggest one was that he was a wizard, which in Tobias Snape’s eyes meant being a freak; looking too much like his mother, which apparently made him ‘too feminine’ for a boy; or simply existing in the same space as the man. Severus had long since learned that nothing he did would ever be good enough. His father was just a miserable bastard who could only communicate with his fists.
But what truly terrified Severus wasn’t how his father treated him. It was how he treated his mother.
She was little more than a punching bag for every foul mood he had—and considering foul moods were the only ones Tobias seemed capable of, she bore the brunt of them all. And in a few months’ time, during the summer holiday, that fear would be realized. His father’s abuse would drive his mother into an early grave.
Severus never came home after that, not until he heard Tobias had finally passed. Never forgave the man who had drained the life out of her, blow by blow.
Maybe this Severus could stop that outcome. Maybe this Severus can make sure that his mother doesn't have to die by the hands of this horrible man, not again.
“Apologies for the intrusion, Mr. Snape, but I’m here to drop young Severus off at home for the week," Dumbledore said, that ever-present smile still on his face.
Tobias squinted at them, his bloodshot eyes narrowing in suspicion before landing on Severus with an almost triumphant sneer. “Did the little shit cause more trouble now? Even at a school for freaks, I bet you’re the biggest one there, huh, boy?” He slurred his words, swaying slightly, punctuating his grand declaration with a swing of the half-empty beer bottle in his hand.
“Not at all, Mr. Snape. Quite the opposite,” Dumbledore replied smoothly, unfazed as ever. “Severus is one of the brightest in his year, actually. He merely requested some time at home for a brief reprieve.” He cast a sidelong glance at Severus, clearly perplexed as to why anyone would willingly choose this as a place to relax.
Severus, meanwhile, was busy having what he generously classified as a minor breakdown.
Logically, this situation should not faze him. He had lived through war -twice. He had been a double agent, deceiving the two most dangerous men in magical history. He was one of the most formidable wizards he knew. Hell, he was closer to Tobias’s age now than he had ever been in his first life. And yet…
The moment his father’s voice turned venomous, something in him froze. His body reacted before his mind could stop it -his eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders hunched, trying to make himself smaller. His gut clenched as if bracing for impact. The years of learned helplessness were still there, buried deep beneath the layers of skill and power he had built since.
Why?
Why was he reverting? Why was he falling back into old habits, shrinking under the weight of words that shouldn’t hold any power over him anymore? He knew -knew beyond any doubt- that he could end Tobias Snape’s existence with a flick of his wand. He knew that if he wanted to, he could have the man on his knees, begging the way he and his mother had for years.
The thought alone made him unclench, ever so slightly. His back straightened, his shoulders squared. He forced himself to stand taller, to shake off the ingrained instinct to cower.
As he steadied himself, he caught part of the ongoing exchange between Dumbledore and his father.
Tobias had now turned his insults on the headmaster, looking him up and down with open disdain. “If he’s going to that school already, and he’s got professors like you,” he sneered, “then the least the boy could do is get good grades in whatever useless shite you’re teaching him. Not like any of it’ll help him in the real world.” He punctuated his words by downing the rest of his beer and carelessly tossing the empty bottle to the floor, where it shattered on impact.
Dumbledore, ever the picture of patience, seemed about to respond, but Severus cut in smoothly.
“Well, it seems you’ve informed a guardian, Professor. Your duties are therefore fulfilled. Again, thank you for the trip.”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with something unreadable, but he merely nodded. “Ah, not a problem, my boy. I’ll return on Sunday -shall we say 4 PM? Does that work for you, Mr. Snape?”
Tobias let out a grunt that could charitably be interpreted as agreement.
“Excellent.” Dumbledore gave one final glance at Severus, slightly reluctant to leave him in this place. “If you need me to come earlier, please send me an owl.”
“No fucking owls on my property. Or any of your magical freak animals,” Tobias spat, slumping onto the couch.
“Ah. Right, then,” Dumbledore said pleasantly, unfazed. “Should the need arise, you may return to the Floo station, and the owner will alert me.”
Tobias waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing unusual will happen to the boy. Now get the fuck outta my house.”
Severus stepped forward smoothly. “Allow me to walk you out, Professor.”
As they reached the door, Severus lowered his voice just enough that only Dumbledore could hear. “If I find myself unable to handle things here with my trunk at my side, I promise I’ll seek your help. After all, help comes to those who ask, doesn’t it, Professor?”
A flicker of amusement passed through Dumbledore’s eyes at having his own words used against him. “Right you are, Mr. Snape.” He gave a small nod, something like approval lingering in his expression. “Well then, I hope you get everything you need out of this visit.”
With that, he turned, walked down the crumbling front steps, and vanished with a quiet pop.
Severus exhaled slowly -steeling himself- before closing the front door and walking toward Tobias.
If he could stand up to Mulciber, a pure-blood heir with enough social power to make or break someone’s life, armed with nothing but his school trunk and sheer spite, then surely he could handle this pathetic excuse for a man.
Hell, Mulciber at least had some class. Tobias was just a drunkard with an attitude problem and a beer bottle that was, statistically speaking, more likely to hit the floor than him.
Severus stopped a few feet away from Tobias, arms crossed, standing as straight as he could in his still-growing, vaguely malnourished teenage body. He fixed his father with a stare, watching as the man wrestled with the cap of a new beer bottle like it had personally offended him.
“Planning to glare me to death, boy?” Tobias grumbled without looking up, finally popping the cap off with a grunt of triumph. “Go on, then. Try it. Maybe that freaky school of yours taught you how to kill a man with a look.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. If only.
“No,” he drawled, “that lesson isn’t until sixth year.” He let the lie settle for a moment, watching Tobias squint at him, clearly debating whether or not to take him seriously. With an exaggerated sigh, he said, "But I suppose I could start practicing early."
Tobias scoffed, shaking his head and taking a big gulp from his bottle. "What a bloody waste of time. All of it. Bet you still can’t do anything useful.”
Severus smirked. “That depends on your definition of useful,” he said smoothly. “If, for example, you mean something that would actually benefit you in any way… then no. I have learned absolutely nothing of the sort.”
He had, of course. But Tobias didn’t need to know that.
His father scowled but didn’t respond immediately, too busy draining his drink and, no doubt, attempting to formulate another weak insult. Any second now, Severus thought, counting down in his head. Three… two…
“You still look like a girl.”
Ah, there it was. Classic Tobias.
Severus hummed thoughtfully. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said, tilting his head. “It means I take after Mother. And between the two of you, I’d much rather resemble—well… not you.”
Tobias muttered something under his breath and waved him off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Get out of my sight.”
Severus, being the picture of grace and maturity, gave an overly dramatic bow before turning on his heel and heading upstairs.
Severus knew the worst was yet to come. Tobias always started hitting once he ran out of words longer than a single syllable. It was like clockwork -insult, insult, slurred nonsense, then violence. Honestly, the man had all the depth of a particularly aggressive hippogriff.
But that didn’t stop Severus from heading up to his parents’ room to find his mother.
He hadn’t seen her in decades. Not since her esteemed pureblood family had swooped in after her death, collecting her body like she was some misplaced heirloom and burying her in their family cemetery -because, of course, now she was worth acknowledging. As if their final act of pettiness was one last reminder that she belonged to them in the end.
Typical.
Severus pushed open the creaky bedroom door and entered, like an intruder in his own home. The room was softly lit, with the curtains closed so tightly that it was surprising any light had managed to escape. It smelled like dust, stale beer, and regret -just as he remembered.
And there she was.
His mother sat on the side of the bed, a book in her lap and her fingers gently drumming across the cover. She looked up at him with tired eyes -the same ones he saw in the mirror every morning.
“Severus,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, weary smile.
For a moment, he forgot himself. Forgot that he was a thirty-something war veteran crammed into a teenage body. Forgot how many years had passed. Forgot that, in his time, she was already gone. Had been gone for a long while.
For just a moment, he was simply a boy standing in front of his mother, desperate to speak to her.
Instead, he said, “Hello, Mum.” His voice came out a little raspy.
She frowned slightly, tilting her head. “You sound... different.”
Severus blinked. Right. His mother had always noticed things about him that no one else did—not Albus, not Lily, not anyone.
“Puberty,” he said flatly.
Her lips twitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she laughed. A real, genuine, startled little laugh.
And just like that, Severus decided that no matter what happened this week -how many beer bottles shattered, how many fists were thrown, how many times Tobias called him a freak- it would be worth it.
Because this time, he wasn’t just here to endure.
This time, he was here to save her.