Hi! Hehe- it's been a while (sorry). But today is a good day (and my birthday) so I will give you the long awaited chapter! Yay! I've also got a twitter account now, it's going to be used for teasers (or excuses) of my stories! I'm Akisia akisiayume (Akisia's my fictionpress name)
Disclaimer: I don't own HP
I'll get on with the story now!

"GET OUT" She screamed, "Get your filthy, useless, fu-fu-F#$KING ASSES OUT OF MY HOUSE!" They
could almost see the pure fury radiating from the thin, small woman.
"DON'T TALK TO ME! JUST GEt out…" Her voice cracked at the end, her legs crumpling as the woman fell to the floor.
"Mrs Snape-"
"Just get out."
The professors hesitated but a pleading look from the women made them comply with her wishes. The old wooden floor creaked underneath their feet as they walked towards the front door, while they communicated their remorse with their eyes. They soon reached the hallway as the tiny sitting room, if it could be called that, opened into an even smaller hallway, one so small that two people would have trouble walking side by side. The front door was made of a dark rotting wood, one that looked close to falling apart any second, even more so when the wizard and witch, both in good robes stood next to it. Without another word, they both pivoted, the witch being slightly faster and more graceful, while the wizard took one last look at the sitting room. With a small crack the two people vanished with only the slightly moving curtains and a sobbing woman being any evidence of them being there at all.

"People say Snape's dead"


"Who's Snape?"
"The greasy haired slytherin, you know, the one-"
"The git? The one that Potter and his group annoy?

"Yes, and do you know how he died?"

"How? Did he finally blow himself up?"

"He killed himself apparently"
"You don't get it. The whiner killed himself over the fact that Potter and Black were bullying him"

"Potter and Black? Yeh right the liar."

"I know, I know"
"Good riddance"
"Shh, Lily Evans is coming near here."
"Wasn't she his friend?"
"Maybe she killed him; no one likes to be near the bat for too long. And he did a leach impression for a couple of years- that could drive anyone to murder."

"If she did she deserves a Merlin first class."

A teenager sat on the floor near a roaring fire his thoughts muddled and unclear. 'Snape's dead', 'Potter and Black', 'Bullying'. 'Did he kill Snivillus? Did he—'
"Umm… James?"
The blacked haired teen snapped to attention at the person in front of him.

"I can't do… this." The other person waved his arms towards the paper.

"You can't? Well—" James' head leant closer to the homework, making him unable to see the quick sly smirk the other male had on his face for a split second, but another person did, making the stranger lift his eyebrow up in curiosity.

Did that boy just? Yes he did. The Gryffindor next to Potter just smirked. A Gryffindor just smirked maliciously at Potter. Worrying as it was Potter deserved everything bad coming to him. But yet… the violence in that expression was frightening, which in turn scared him a little. He had never seen that smirk on a Gryffindor's face, only on a Death Eater's face.

No one has ever looked at her like that before. They had looked at her with pure horror on their face like Mrs Snape did but they had never looked at her like she killed someone! But in a way she had. She, Minerva McGonagall wasn't proud to admit that she, in her delusions was worse than the people that drove Severus Snape to kill himself. As she only watched and didn't do anything to help other than a couple of house points there and then, and many one or two detentions.

"My Lord?" A hesitant voice asked.
"What is it?" A cruel voice impatiently answered.
"Severus Snape is dead."

"We are here for the cremation of Mr S. Snape."
"Right," the usually certain voice trembled a little before righting itself, "this way." Madam Pomfrey directed towards a small room off her office, "he is in there. Who sent you?"

"Mrs E. Snape." The slightly older man said to the nurse.
She nodded and opened the door to the room. The room that was usually used as a private hospital room was now colder than usually and it's bed held the body of a teenager, unmoving and silent, like it would be, the limbs never moving of their own will again. Poppy took one of the last looks she would have of the child and turned back into her office her face guilty and tired.