1. Dark Rift

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath."

Severus Snape sighed and stared at the skylight, through the antiquated glass to the stars above. He hadn't moved from this position for most of the day, watching as the day slowly faded into night. In fact, he hadn't made much of an effort to move from his bed for much of the week, his thoughts constantly overtaking the need to perform any day to day rituals, eating or showering among them. Stale water sat in a glass on the dark bedside table, untouched, unmoving.

He had moved out of his parents' home as soon as he returned from Hogwarts for the summer, determined not to spend another school break listening to the endless arguments and shattering glass from his drunk Muggle father and incompetent witch mother. Neither had taken much notice when he magicked his entire bedroom into a small trunk using an undetectable extension charm and left the house the same morning as he returned. He knew he would inherit the house, and all of the possessions stored within; what did it matter if he lived there now? All he wanted was silence, and to be left in peace.

Severus still couldn't believe what he had called Lily Evans. How could he? Lily, of all people! She was, of course, the exception to his rule about cavorting with Muggle-borns, but there was very good reason for that exception: he was crazy about her. And for most of their fifth year, he thought that maybe, finally, she was starting to come around. The hugs were becoming more frequent; she was beginning to be less secretive about studying with him on the lawn in front of the lake. Yet she still spent time with Potter – more time than Severus was at all comfortable with. Once or twice he tried to drop hints, but she never cared. She politely reminded Severus on more than one occasion that she was free to befriend whom she wanted; Severus did not have to come along when she went to join the Marauders on one of their adventures. He was perfectly fine with that, but secretly wished she would just abandon the group all together.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a big deal if the word had slipped out just between the two of them; maybe she would have given him a chance to better explain himself. But James had been there, along with Sirius and Remus (Peter was probably lurking about somewhere, anxious to get in on the action but unwilling to actually participate) and about half a dozen other students. Gathering them all up to perform one large and exceedingly dangerous Memory charm on them would be impossible. They all heard what Severus had called Lily.

Mudblood.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back another barrage of tears. He was sick of crying over the incident. He had been a fool for caring about her. All those years ago, when he told her as children that being Muggle-born didn't matter, he had meant it. What had changed? He felt a constant need to be around her and to make her realize he was a good person; and yet at the same time, he felt equally pressed to prove to his fellow Slytherins that he belonged. Especially to some of the older students, like Lucius and Bellatrix; he knew if he remained on their good side, he would always be protected and praised.

Maybe over the summer she would come around, he thought hopefully. Maybe an owl would come his way, telling him it was alright, that she forgave him, that things could go back to the way they were before that day in June. When he opened his eyes again, he felt slightly rejuvenated. He pulled himself out of bed and went to the ramshackle table in the center of his flat, scrawling down a list of ingredients. He wasn't going to spend the whole summer moping around. Professor Slughorn had informed him of what books he would need for his sixth year Advanced Potions course; today he would begin practicing the different brews, perfecting them and making the necessary changes in his textbook. When school started up again, he would be ready.

Severus' flat was a studio on the top floor of a Muggle apartment building two blocks from the Leaky Cauldron, and the secret neighborhood of Diagon Alley. He wasn't happy about living in Muggle London, but unfortunately he had very little of his own money, making his current residence the only option he could take. Luckily, the lanky 16 year old didn't own many things; other than his bed, clothes, school supplies, and his owl, the apartment was relatively bare. His school robes were hanging in the tiny closet near his bed, while the rest of his clothes remained in his trunk. Lists of ingredients were tacked up on the wall around the small kitchenette, and his cauldron was resting on a stool next to the table. The outside of the cauldron was nicked and buffed, signs of constant use; the inside was scrubbed clean, the mark of a caring Potions student who understood the importance of always having a pristine cauldron ready.

The brown barn owl hooted softly from the corner of the flat as Severus double checked his potions book for any missing ingredients. Confident that he had written everything down, he stripped off the clothes he had been wearing for the past week and made his way to the shower, the cold water hitting him like a brick to the face. He let it wash over him, soaking his inky black hair as he quickly ran soap over his body. As he stepped out, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Perpetually sunken eyes, an unfortunate trait inherited from his father; he was tall and lanky, but not very well built (something he planned on taking care of). After another moment of pointless gawking, he scoffed and walked back to the main room, quickly toweling off and pulling on his Muggle clothes. Because he was not of age, Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron was out of the question; however, walking the two blocks in wizarding robes wasn't worth the stares he knew he would get. As he made his way to the door, he grabbed his coin purse and the list of ingredients from the table, and left his flat.

As the summer progressed, Severus buried himself deeper into his studies. Technically he wasn't even supposed to be practicing magic outside the walls of Hogwarts; if the trace picked up any use of high-level magic, he could be expelled, the last thing he wanted. But if he didn't keep himself busy with something, he knew he would go mad. Nothing had come from Lily Evans yet; only an owl from his mother questioning his decision to move out, and his list of supplies for the coming term from the school. Towards the middle of August, he had decided to send an owl himself, apologizing once again to Lily for his behavior and promising to make amends in whatever way she saw fit. Not even a howler appeared in return, only silence. It was killing him, hardening his heart. A few times, he had to scrap entire potions and start from the beginning, because a tear would slip from his face into the cauldron and ruin the entire experiment. He felt incredibly weak, something he did not enjoy at all.

One night, he managed to slip out of a Muggle convenience store with a small bottle of liquor, which he quickly drained as soon as he returned home in hopes that it might calm him down; instead, it only made him angrier and more desperate to perfect his potion-making skills. When he woke up the next morning to discover he had shattered the empty bottle and torn half of his recipes off the wall sometime in the course of the evening, he decided to stay away from the Muggle alcohol. It didn't help that his father was constantly drunk; he should have remembered what his parents' house looked like after a night of dear old dad hitting the bottle.

He made haste in Diagon Alley when he when to pick up his remaining school supplies, most of which had to be bought second-hand. With his remaining time, he ducked around a corner and through an archway, emerging into Knockturn Alley, home of the more unpleasant side of magical dealings and wares. Many of his potions called for elements that he could not purchase at the apothecary in Diagon Alley, but Knockturn Alley was a different story. With his supplies bought and his rucksack near to bursting, Severus made his way back to his flat. When he glanced at the clock, it read only 7pm. He didn't care that it was early, or that he had yet to eat dinner – he no longer wanted to be awake. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed, willing sleep to take him over.

The following morning, Severus was awoken a horrific screeching, coming from inside his flat. His ebony eyes shot open as he sat up and realized that his owl and another were having a small spat over…well, he wasn't quite sure, and he honestly didn't care. His heart leapt at the possibility than Lily had finally replied to his letter. He didn't recognize the owl as hers; when it nipped at his finger and turned its head to its leg to suggest payment, he realized she must have used a post owl. Odd, he thought, as he tore into the letter. But as soon as he viewed the script, he knew it was not from Lily. Her fine handwriting was instantly recognizable to him; the words could not have been written by her. Suppressing the rejection he felt beginning to swell inside him, he read the letter:

Severus,

This owl was sent later than originally intended, but I wanted to extend my thanks for your assistance this past term with Potions. My parents have been on my case for some time about getting my marks up, and with your help I passed my O.W.L.S. and made my father quite proud. I'm hoping we can continue to work together this coming term.

Looking forward to seeing you in September,

Isadora Starbuck

6th year, Slytherin House

He stared at the letter and read it over again, incredibly confused. He had helped someone with potions last term? As he searched his mind, he vaguely remembered the faces of a few Slytherin students he had consented to helping after Professor Slughorn had made the suggestion that some in his house weren't taking Potions seriously enough. But who this girl in particular was, he had no idea. His ego accepted her thanks (he was well in the mood for any ego boost at this point), and with that he tossed the letter aside. If he couldn't remember who she was, she clearly wasn't that important of a student.

The next few days consisted of packing his school supplies into his trunk and cleaning his flat before moving his belongings back to his parent's house (no use in keeping the flat during the school year). As he collected papers from around the apartment, he came across the letter from Adrienne Starbuck. He hadn't thought much on it, but he still couldn't place a face to the name.

Might as well keep the damn thing, Severus thought, and crammed the parchment in with the rest of his loose papers.

Eventually, all of his things were packed and ready to go, and the morning of September 1st, he was pushing his trunk and owl cage on a trolley through the barrier at King's Cross Station to Platform 9 ¾. As soon as he emerged on the other side and his ears were filled with the cacophony of students and parents, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew he would have to deal with Potter and the others eventually, and at some point Lily as well; but anything beat returning to the house he grew up in. Hogwarts had become his home.

As he pushed the trolley towards the pile of trunks waiting to be loaded, Severus saw a flash of brilliant red hair. He felt his throat constrict as Lily Evans walked swiftly by him. She turned her head slightly, barely acknowledging his presence, before running off to join her friends as they boarded the train.

It felt as if someone had punched him repeatedly in the gut. He had been denying it all summer in hopes that she was waiting to forgive him in person instead of through post; but there it was, plain as day. An interest in the Dark Arts she could deal with; snide remarks about other Gryffindors she was willing to tolerate; but racist remarks about Muggle-born witches, she would not accept. There would be no forgiveness this time. He had finally crossed the line, and pushed her away for good. He stared off after her, losing himself in thoughts of jumping onto the train tracks as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, until the whistle from the train pulled him back to the present, and he boarded – alone.