A/N: Since this is my very first attempt t fanfiction (and writing something in a language other than my mother tongue), I am more than ashamed of the first ...let's say, ten chapters of this story. Be so kind as to overlook it and rest assured that at least concerning grammar and vocabulary use it will get better. About the contents I'm not that sure ;) If you don't like the usual "poor Snape with bad childhood etc."-cliché, this is probably not for you.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or anything else related to Harry Potter; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made.

Slight AU-ness:

1) Lucius Malfoy isn't in Azkaban (I won't mention it expilcitly, since I somehow managed to forget he was captured when I began writing. So just imagine he's escaped only a few weeks after his imprisonment, which is also indicated by what Draco tells Harry at the end of OotP)
2) Harry is allowed elsewhere than Hogwarts and Privet Drive (see chapter 10)

Chapter 01 - Something Unexpected

Professor Remus Lupin was standing in front of the large fireplace in the living room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. As there was only a small fire lit, the room was dark with shadows, the ancient furniture looking like some strange motionless animals.

Remus stared into the flickering flames, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. It had been a long day as he had prepared everything for the Order's meeting, which would take place the very next morning. Now he was tired and his head ached, his temples sending out pricks of pain all the way down to the back of his head. He sipped of the whiskey and sighed.

'At least I should be happy about teaching Defence once more,' he thought.

Only he had not been happy once since the day Sirius had died. He had another sip of whiskey. Albus had asked him to return to Hogwarts in the first week of the summer holidays, and although the new term would start in three days, he had not even bothered so much as to think about planning his classes. He knew it would have kept him busy. It would have kept him from brooding over Sirius's death. He also knew it had not been a good idea to spend almost the entire summer in Grimmauld Place, where everything reminded him of his dead friend.

Nevertheless, he wanted to remember. It made him feel less guilty of what had happened that night in the Department of Mysteries. It was ridiculous, of course, but somehow he felt he should have prevented Sirius from leaving the house that night. He should have been here when it happened. He should have forced him to stay, for his own good.

'I should have known.'

Of all people he should have known. Who else if not Sirius' so-called "best friend"? He should have known that Sirius would not just sit here and wait until it all was over. He should have known. But now it was too late.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," he whispered, when suddenly, hell broke loose.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTHY MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BREEDS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, DISGUSTING RUBBISH!"

Someone had rung the doorbell. Mumbling, Remus made his way to the dark entrance hall. The portrait of Mrs Black was fuming with rage, the heavy black curtains flapping wildly.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN MY HOUSE! LOUSY HALF-BREED! A WEREWOLF! DON'T YOU HAVE -"

The screaming stopped abruptly when he managed to draw the curtains. He sighed with relief. Then the doorbell rang again.

"SCUM OF THE EARTH! SHAME OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! HOW DARE YOU - "

Remus angrily pulled on the curtains, making them screech over the rail. His head was aching even worse as he hurried towards the door and flung it open with a jolt.

"DO! NOT! RING! THE! BELL!" he yelled at the visitor.

"MISBEGOTTEN VERMIN! LOWEST OF THE LOW! THAT I MUST LIVE TO SEE SUCH DAYS! LOATHOME CREATURES! WORTHLESS..."

Groaning with annoyance and pain Remus rushed towards the portrait and, for the third time, drew the curtains.

"FILTY LITTLE HALF - "

Silence. Sweet silence. He buried his aching head in his hands.

"It seems the two of you are quite enjoying yourselves. As for me, I would rather prefer a civilized conversation. Not that there is much I should wish to talk about with you."

The sneering voice was unmistakable. Remus looked up to face the pale, raven-haired man who was standing in front of him, a malignant smile playing on his lips.

"Good evening, Snape."

Remus was lying in bed, having trouble getting to sleep. He was still worrying about Sirius, and moreover, he was more than slightly annoyed with Snape. The man bore an arrogance which could hardly be surpassed by anyone. Without even an appropriate greeting, he had rushed into the kitchen and flung himself into a chair, leaving it to Remus to carry in his heavy case. He then had demanded a whiskey and drunk it without a word. Remus had not expected him to make small talk, but at least he could have stopped treating him like a house-elf.

"At least that stupid mutt had a good taste of whiskey. That, at least, if nothing else."

That had been the point when he had left in silence, clenching his teeth, his temples close to exploding.

Yes, Snape had to manage an extremely difficult and dangerous task, but that did not give him the right to treat other people in such a way. Not that he ever had treated anyone with respect – except Dumbledore – and he had always been annoying and sent people round the bend, but he had not been that ruthless.

'Maybe his existence as a spy is gnawing at him.'

Snape had just returned from a Death Eater's meeting. Now that he thought about it, Remus suddenly beheld the image of the Potions Master as he had sat in the kitchen before: Pale, exhausted - although he tried to hide it – with a somehow numb expression in his eyes that, with hindsight, sent cold chills down Remus's spine. How would it be to be a spy in Voldemort's rows? To see people being tortured and killed…to have to do it yourself? How could you cope with the horror, the guilt? How had Snape managed to do during the last 16 years? With these unpleasant thoughts still in mind Remus finally dozed off into a restless sleep.

It was still dark when he awoke. There had been a noise or something, or maybe he had only dreamt it. He listened. Nothing. He closed his eyes, hoping to be able to go back to sleep soon. He really needed to sleep to get through the following day.

There it was again! Remus almost fell out of the bed when struggling to get to his feet as quickly as possible. Could there be an attack on the house? He tiptoed out of his room and stood still, listening. For a couple of seconds there was silence, then loud screams echoed through the corridor. They were coming from Snape's bedroom! Assuming the man to be in whatever kind of danger, he pushed open the door.

"Lumos!"

His wand, which he had grabbed before leaving his room, flared up, lighting the room with a greenish glow. No one was there, except for Snape, who was tossing and turning in his bed, groaning.

"What on earth…" Remus mumbled and stepped near the bed. "Snape!"

No reaction.

"Snape!" louder now.

The other man gave another scream and started to cry, eyes still closed.

"Merlin!" Remus rolled his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He seized the man, who was drenched in cold sweat, by the shoulders and shook him a little.

"Snape! Wake up, you are dreaming!"

Snape did not awake but raised his arms before his head and began to shake violently.

"I… I'm sorry, Da-daddy", he whimpered. "I love you, Daddy!"

Remus was taken aback. He let go of the other man who immediately curled up into a foetal position. For some moments he just sat there, staring at Snape unbelievingly. The heart-wrenching sobs finally woke him from his bewilderment. Wondering if he had ever done something as strange as this – including transforming into a wolf every month – he bent down to the whimpering Snape and carefully wrapped his arms around the trembling man.

Daddy had been angry with him. Severus did not know why – he never knew – but it must be his fault. This he knew for sure. For why else should daddy be so furious?

He had tried not to cry when Daddy had been shouting at him. Daddy did not like that. He did not want him to act like a baby. But when Daddy's voice had become louder and louder and he had kept on shouting, his head red with anger and his big fists clenched, Severus had not been able to fight back the tears.

Daddy had become even more angry then. When the punches had been raining down on him, he had said the only thing he could think of: He was sorry.

He was sorry for upsetting Daddy that much. He did not want to upset Daddy. He did not want to make mistakes. He did not want to be a bad boy, because he loved his Daddy. Every good son loved his Daddy, and he desperately wished to be a good son. But he had failed again.

'I'm worthless', he thought, repeating what Daddy would tell him almost every day. It must be true. Daddy was always right.

Whining with pain and fear Severus lay on the floor, waiting for what would come next.

Suddenly he felt arms being gently wrapped around him. He flinched at the touch. Tender hands stroked his hair.

"Shhh, it's alright. It's only a dream."

Mummy?

"It's okay, you needn't be afraid. I'm here."

Mummy was here! He buried his head in her robes, crying with relief. He felt himself being gently rocked, and it was so soothing that he wanted it never to stop.

"Shhh, don't cry, you are safe now."

Severus knew he was not safe, because mummy was never safe herself. She could not protect him from daddy as she could not protect herself, but this time it had only been a dream. He snuggled deeper into the tight hug. When after some time he finally could stop crying and had calmed down he just stayed in her arms for some minutes, enjoying the feeling of being held. He loved the warmth and the feeling that he was cared about.

"Mummy…" he whispered and opened his eyes.