Warning contains child abuse, torture and rape. Also minor self-harming. Insanity in latter chapters.

Day 1 of summer holidays.

Snape Family Mansion:

He sat with his back pressed against the wall and his knees up at his chest. His right arm stuck out from his body at an awkward angle. His long greasy hair hung down over his face but a large blossoming bruise was still visible on his temple. He seemed dazed. His mouth moved as he repeated something to himself, over and over.

The looming presance moved into his mind. He wanted to close his eyes but couldn't. His weak defences were quickly torn aside by the will of the older, more experienced, wizard. And then his father started to search, methodically, through his memories. Had he misbehaved at school? Had he spoken to any mudbloods? Any students not of a noble family? Had he fraternised with those outside the Siltherine house? Had he thought about it? Had he prepared as he should for the honour that he was soon undeservingly to recieve? No. He didn't even want it!

Rough hands closed around his shoulders, pulled him to his feet. A backhand swipe to the face was viscious enough that his nose started to bleed.

"You ungrateful maggot!"

His father grabbed hold of his injured arm and flung him across the room. He hit a wall and fell to the floor in a heap. His head bowed he watched the blood dripping down. His lips were still moving. "Make it stop. Make it stop..."

Number 12 Grimaland Place:

"You continue to bring disrepute down on the family name! You are worthless! Worthless! Worthless! You are no child of mine! Do you hear me? If I'd known how you were going to turn out I never would have brought you into this world. You're a discrace! It's bad enough that you were sorted into Griffondor. But then to associate with mud-bloods! And a werwolf! A werwolf! Did you think I didn't know about that? You're father has connections in the ministry. He knows all about that Lupin boy! What do you have to say for yourself? Well you good for nothing waste of space?" A silence followed. Sirus knew that to speak in response would only draw this out for longer. He already knew where it was heading.

"Get it over with."

Quite suddenly Mrs. Black's demeaner changed. She stopped fuming and became quite calm. A slight unplesant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She took her wand from her pocket, pointed it at her son. He braced himself.


He couldn't think, struggled to draw breath. He didn't remember falling but he was on the floor. The agony was unbelievable. He could never get used to it. It felt like his bones were exploding, like his skin was on fire. He was screaming though he didn't know it. He screamed and screamed untill his troath was so raw he couldn't scream any more. How long did she hold the wand on him? It must have been hours. When she finally stoped her husband was standing beside her. She waited untill Sirus had regained some awareness of his surroundings. Then she turned to the man. "I think you can finish his punishments." He smiled at his wife. Then he strode over to his son, grabbed him and threw him into a table so that he was half ontop of it lying face down. He ripped off the boy's shirt and tossed it aside. Then he retrieved a whip from the drawer of a cabinet. He held the black leather firmly in one hand. He brought his arm back in preperation. He swung forwards. The forcked tip cracked against Sirus' back and he bit down on his lip against the pain. The whip struck again. And again. And again. And again. He could feel the blood flowing down his skin, soaking his trousers. And with each lash only one thought was running through his mind: "Please make it stop. Just make it stop!"