A/N: Saeran: Noble. Gaelic

I was four. I remember every moment of that night, every feeling. I remember the tiny fibers on my blanket tickling my nose as I hid under it, cowering beneath my bed. I remember my toys digging into my side as I curled up tighter and tighter under the blanket. I remember stuffing my blanket into my mouth, biting down on it, muffling my childish sobbing. But most of all I remember the sickening sound of leather hitting my mother.

I could hear him yelling at her to get up, and then beating her back down to the floor. Over and over, the sickening sound of leather hitting my mother. I knew that sound well; I heard it almost every night. It was the only lullaby I knew. He was pushing her into the hallway now, still beating her as they went. I could see their legs walking by. His unsteady, hers already showing bruises.

As they were passing my room he kicked my mother, sending her off kilter. She tried to land in the hallway, but he kicked again, throwing off her balance, sending her sprawling into my room. She fell, hitting the floor alongside my bed. I looked up, silent, my face contorted with fear. I saw a tear trail down the side of her face. I had seen her beaten many times, this was the first time I ever saw her cry. I moved towards her, thinking she was hurt, that I should help her. After all, she helped me when I fell. Before I could unwrap the blanket from around me, I heard him speak.

"Where is he?" he yelled. "Where is that WORTHLESS boy?!" again and again he asked my mother, but she said nothing. He started to kick her again, screaming "WHERE?" with each blow. Her eyes stayed open, never blinking, locked onto mine, willing me to understand … something. My four year old mind was in turmoil, what did mother want me to do?

"WHERE IS THAT BASTARD? WHERE IS HE? I'LL TEACH HIM TO BREAK MY GLASS!" he screamed at her, giving her a kick with each word.

That's what it was. That's the reason he was hitting my mother. I had broken his glass while playing on my tyke-broom. That's what my mother was trying to tell me, not to move. Don't help. Don't make this worse than you already have.

My fault, my fault, all my fault. I make him hit her. If I was a good boy he wouldn't be mad, he wouldn't hit her. My fault, my fault…

I stopped moving, my tiny body rigid with fear. She got back up, body shaking as she moved away from my bed. Stumbling, she stood to face him.

"Your son is at my mother's house, has been all day. He didn't break your glass, I did" she whispered.

"Eh? So you sent him there did you? You're right, it is your fault, shouldn't have let him run around and break my glass. Stupid bitch" he mumbled, suddenly bored with his blood sport. Stumbling out of the room, he made his way down the hallway, to their bedroom. I could hear him falling into the bed. I crawled out from under my bed, still wrapped in my blanket.

"Mother, why are you crying?" I whispered, tugging on her hand, wanting her to explain, to make me feel better, to make this all go away.

"Shh…it's ok Severus, you're ok, I'm not crying" She whispered back, picking me up, cuddling me to her.

I buried my head into her shoulder, shivering with fear as she held me. The night's events finally starting to make sense, my mind finally comprehending what I had seen.

She was crying. She never cried when he beat her. My mother was strong, so why did she cry? Because she was afraid he would hurt me too.

A/N: Much thanks to the wodnerful ulyferal. Thanks to her, my fics now have a lemonly fresh beta smell!

A/N: Other stories by me can be found at my LJ under myene 01, at any of the Sycophant Hex archives, the fanfiction .net archives, and at the hpfandom .net archives. At and at My LJ will have all my fics, the other archives are spotty.