Disclaimer: My British accent is a lie.

Flashback: The Introduction of Harold Evans. 2 years previously.

The man came on what Severus considered a peaceful evening.

His belly was full with the wild hare that mum had brought home and Da had cooked along with mushy peas on toast and a side of lukewarm milk. The milk was a rare treat that Da said the barman from the pub had given to him especially for Severus.

A celebratory kipper his father called it, for Da had been promoted to an official barber at the hair salon he'd been working in the past two months in the lower part of Greater Manchester, a three hour walk from home. As a consequence, Severus had found himself enrolled into the nicer primary school nearby.

Mum was glad for it though, said being around better off children would keep Severus' polite vernacular from standing out too much. She didn't really have to worry though, Severus could mimic nigh any accent.

Evidently, Severus' hair reminded Tobias too much of Eileen, so he'd begun chopping it shorter. "I ain't letting you look like some bleeding flower boy." Though at first Tobias had wanted Severus to get his hair cut by one of the men from the pub that gave haircuts to whoever he lost a bet to, but Severus had adamantly refused. (That man reeked worse than even Tobias had on his worst days after being aled up. There was no way he was letting him near his head with anything sharp, thank you very much.)

Rebelliously, (almost magically, though Tobias refused to entertain the thought,) Severus' hair always grew back within a fortnight and an irritated Tobias had soon grown into the habit of experimenting hairstyles on his boy.

Then a stranger had praised Severus' look, asking where he'd gotten his hair cut. Tobias had gruffly replied he'd done the work, and the stranger had proceeded to wax poetic on how he should look into making a few quid off of the hobby.

Their situation had changed much in the past two years.

Other than in the winter, Severus no longer went to bed hungry since mum came back home. Though Da didn't seem to realize that the dog who liked to bring home game the way cats brought in dead vermin was her. To Severus, she was his mum, but to Tobias, the tall and lanky black dog was given the moniker of "Leena." Money was still scarce. Tobias was saving up for a car so that they'd not have to wake up in the bleeding hours of early morning just to walk down to the city in time for Severus to be dropped off at school and Tobias to clock into the shop on time.

Tobias rarely went into his rages nowadays, rages which only happened whenever he slipped back into drink and remembered all about how Eileen had left him to be a single father in bloody Cokeworth. But in those instances Severus had quickly learned to escape up to his room or out the front door, with mum following close behind.

The knocking on the door was quick and sharp. Mum had instantly perked up from her lax position as Severus' makeshift head cushion while he dozed off from a full belly.

Tobias' gruff, "Up, Toby. Stay where you are," roused his boy to alertness as he set aside the paper (folded open to the sports section) he'd been reading. Sharp dark eyes narrowed on the front door, suspicion wondering who would dare come knocking at such a late hour in moldy Spinner's End.

Another round of knocking, followed by a muffled inquiry, spurred him to rise from the old club chair.

Through the spyhole Tobias glimpsed a blond in a fancy tailored suit, nervously shifting from foot to foot as he looked from the door, to the darkening neighborhood behind him, and back again. At the least, he didn't look like some drunk arse that he would need to beat away.

Not that he didn't want to anyway.

As the blighter started another round of knocking, Tobias yanked the door open, letting it bang into the side of the house as he shoved his one hundred eighty centimeter height into the man's personal space.

The man back-pedaled, tottering off the front step and into the street just beyond. Tobias noticed the car parked just a way's off.

"The bloody hell you want at this hour?" The man's eyes widened in shock, no doubt more from hearing the bass of Tobias' voice than what was actually said.

Straightening, the blond cleared his throat. "Ah, forgive me for the intrusion on your time this evening, sir," he began, voice mellow and utterly average. If his clothes weren't already screaming it, his obvious lack of Mancunian accent and polite verbiage were a blatant sign of him being from some place much nicer than dreary Cokeworth.

With the overhead light from inside to light his face, Tobias found himself easily irritated at the sight of the man's vivid green eyes.

"I hope I haven't both-"

"Yer bothering me plenty right now," Tobias cut off. The blond stuttered, a tick in his pleasant grin marring the man's otherwise perfect salesman appearance. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Harold. Harold Evans. But you can call me Harry. And yours?" Harold rose a hand to shake and Tobias blatantly ignored it, staring silently until the appendage retreated to hang back awkwardly at its owner's side.

"Snape," He granted. Another tick appeared above Harold's left brow and Tobias felt himself hold back a grin at cracking the blond's perfect facade.

"Pleasure to-"

"Get on with it, ya bloody pillock!" Tobias cut in. Instantly, Harold dropped all pretenses at pleasantry and glared at Tobias' black-eyed sneer. His pleasant tone turned flat and curt.

"I understand you have a dog." Reaching into his suit, Harold pulled out and flipped open a leather wallet. "A sighthound, to be specific." He counted out ten banknotes. "A Persian greyhound, to be even more specific." He proffered the money, and Tobias caught view of the Queen's image and repeats of the number twenty with narrowed eyes.

"You're wasting time coming all the way here," he said. Stepping back, Tobias moved to close the door.

"I beg your- sir! I'm offering to buy your dog!" With his arm against the closing wood, Harold had taken a step into the dreary abode in an effort to keep the conversation going. Light seemed to flash in Snape's black eyes at his daring intrusion, and Harold flinched off of the old door. Movement from his peripheral brought his attention to the threadbare sitting room just beyond, the sight of a small boy and the aforementioned canine catching his eye.

Noticing the motion, Tobias turned to Severus and nodded toward the stairs. "Get yourself out of my sight, boy," he commanded.

"No! Wait, please," said Harold. His palm reached forward as Severus paused at the foot of the stairs, curiosity causing him to warily stare between the man with green eyes and his father. "Hey there son. I've got two girls of my own around your age back home." Severus blinked, unsure about what the Evans man expected him to do with such pointless information. "That's a valuable creature you have there, but it's rather high maintenance. Surely you would have a much easier time if I were to take it off your hands in exchange for all this money you could sooner use to feed yourself?"

Unconsciously grabbing a hold of his mother's scruff, Severus flinched at the horrid grin Tobias cracked at the man.

"High maintenance? I don't even have to feed the bitch and she brings food to the table better than any lousy bint. Your money is nothing more than pity change here." Harold glared back warily. "You're not the first to have offered for her, but that dog does things her own way, and this fool's errand of yours will only result in annoyance for me when you come back to complain that I've gone and trained her to return."

"Did you? If you trained her well, she has the potential to win countless dog shows and competitions. Although I do warn you that Persian greyhounds are no match for their Scottish counterparts."

Tobias scoffed, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming the longer the fancy blond ran his mouth. "No. This bitch ain't nothing more than a useful eyesore who hasn't got the sense to leave no matter how much I try. Try to take her for all I care, but she's more attached to my boy than his own mother was."

As if on cue, the hound in question bowed low, eyes glaring and teeth glinting as she snarled from beneath the boy's hand.

Understanding his loss, Harold apologized for his intrusion and made his exit.

The door slammed closed behind him, barely clipping his suit.

Notes: In my head cannon Tobias is about 5'11". Mr Evans is approximately 5'7". Severus will eventually surpass them both at 6'2". Yes, this chapter is basically filler (But still cannon to the story!) as I try to figure out where the plot is going and how to continue it.

Please keep up the reviews! They're my motivation!