The world goes up,

The air flows down.

Stop me, hold me, leave me,

When will this all end.

When did it all begin?





Severus Snape stared out the window, watching all the people approach his house, with signs, and rocks, and stones. He sighed, watching them kick open his gate, and approach, chanting something he couldn't quite make out.

Than the stones came, crashing against his house, he could feel the vibrations.

Without warning, one came whirling through his window, shattering the glass all over.

He felt blood pouring out of his cheek.

"Go To Hell Death Eater, Go To Hell Death Eater, Go To Hell Death Eater"

Snape could hear them clearly now.

He sank to the floor, covering his head with his arms.


He heard the door opening. And angry footsteps screaming out at him, coming upstairs. Snape closed his eyes tight. And hoped.

He felt an intense pain in his side, as a sharp boot kicked him.

"Get Up," came a woman's icy voice.

Snape looked up, knowing how pathetic he must look.

There were millions of them. Crowding up the room, furiously clutching picket signs, that claimed he was a bastard, that he should go back where he belonged. To hell.

"Stand Up, Snape," Said the woman, kicking him again.

He stood up, wincing at the pain in his side.

The woman, he knew her only too well, Christilin Rogers, the Gryffindor he had gone to school with. Christilin had always hated him, apparently for no reason. All he had done in school was leave everybody alone. He wanted to be left alone himself. He just pushed them all away, far far away. Why get close to anyone, when they would just leave.

"What do you have to say for yourself, you Deatheater." She said once more, her voice carrying nothing less than the hatred that Voldemort lived on.

"I am not a deatheater. Not anymore." He said, coolly. Snape had his pride, even if it was almost gone. "I would suggest you all leave, this is against my rights. I Could get the ministry. . ."

Christilin frowned. "Why not just get Voldemort to support you. Oh wait, he's dead now."

Snape reached up, and wiped off his cheek, the back of his hand now covered in blood. "I said, I am not a Death Eater. I was, that was my choice, my mistake. Now if you'll just leave me alone."

"You know what I'd like to do to you Snape? You and all the other filth that got out of Azkaban? I'd like to get a rope, and choke you to death, hang you from a tree. . ."

Snape backed up, fear evolving in his bones. Was she serious? The crowd behind her was nodding their heads, in agreement.

"Just get rid of all you." She continued, shoving at Snape with her picket sign. "It wouldn't take too long."

He swallowed.

"But then, you'd be stooping to his level," came the harsh voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Snape turned around, to see Dumbledore standing there.

"I think you should leave now," the elder man continued. "Severus isn't a Death Eater, he switched back to our side before he could do much harm. In fact, he helped us tremendously."

Christilin glared. "That's no excuse, Dumbledore, and you know it. He's trash," But she threw done her sign, and motioned the crowd to leave.

They were gone within minutes, and Snape turned to Dumbledore.

"Thank you," He murmured quietly. Dammit, that old man had once again seen him at his worst.

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, Severus, I must say. . . You are getting what you asked for, in the beginning. But you righted your wrong, partly."

"Yes." He said.

"No, I suppose you want to know why I am here?"

Snape nodded again.

"Seems we have an opening at Hogwarts, would you like to take the spot of Potions Master? I remember how astonishingly good you are," Dumbledore frowned as he said the last part.

Snape knew why. It had been his father, the Death Eater, the man who had made him feel as if he must become a Death Eater himself, or die, an innocent man asleep in his bed. Snape had hated his father with a fury. In fact, he had been the one. . . the one to help get his father killed.

But that was past.

Nothing would ever really pass.

What was he going to do now?

Just accept it.

And the job, it sounded like him.

And he wanted it.

"Okay, then. I'll accept" he heard himself saying.

Dumbledore reached out his hand.

Snape shook it firmly.

"You can move in whenever you want, preferably before August. So you can prepare." Dumbledore said kindly.

Snape nodded. Off to a new life now, he was going to leave this one behind. In the dust, where it belonged.

"No, I have to get going. Why don't you clean up your face?" and with that, the old man was gone.

Snape walked gingerly into the bathroom, and turned on the water facuet, watching the water flush through the pipe. He reached out for the towel, and let it soak up the liquid, then pressed it too his face.

It stung.

Life stung.




Author's note:: If you like Snape fics, try Winged Keys, she has a great series, very, very well written. So does Marvin, she has a fic similar to mine(the snape/Hermione romance), but much different. (I am not implying she copied me, or anything)

Signing off.


PS. I was filling out a survey on, and I realized most of my fav. Authors write Snape stuff.