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Eileen Prince hated the life that she had created for herself, but no one else was to blame for her being there besides herself. She despised Spinner’s End and Cokeworth. She hated the way her husband’s footfalls echoed against the walls when he stumbled up the stairs in the wee hours of the morning and the smell of whisky on his breath when he pulled her body against his own. She yearned for another life, the one of her youth. The wizarding world was full of colour, magic bled into everything, and she missed it so.
But it was Eileen’s fault that she was there. It was her choices that led to the babe in the cradle that had once belonged to his father. As if the child could hear her thoughts, he began to cry. The sound made her want to cover her ears, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t the rich home of her youth where others would be expected to help; no, there were no House-elves in this world to deal with him.
She sat up and reached for him, pulling the baby close to her chest. Severus. Severus Tobias Snape was his name, his first after her father and his middle after his own. Eileen ran a finger down his soft, jet-black baby hair just like her own, the same pale skin and she stared down at his dark blue newborn eyes; they would surely darken over the next few months, whether it be to his father’s muddy brown or her stormy grey, only time would tell.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
She didn’t know why she bothered asking her son the question; it wasn’t like he could answer, but it did stop his whining. Her baby looked up at her as if he was taking in every single detail of her face just as she was his.
“I guess it’s just you and me against the world, Sev, isn’t it?”
He blew bubbles at her and wiggled in her arms as if to answer in the only way he could.
“I am sorry I am failing at this whole mum thing, but you see, mine died when I was only a little bit older than you are and I was raised by something called House-elves… We don’t have any because of your dad being a Muggle. We aren’t like him and we can’t tell him about it, okay? Our magic has to be our little secret alright? Having magic makes you special. It makes you….” Her voice was giddy as she whispered, memories of magic flooding back to her like a river crashing over a waterfall. She missed it more than words could ever say.
“Shut ya stupid face, woman!” Tobias hollered as he climbed up those stairs. They creaked loudly under his work boots. “I don’t want to listen to it!”
Drunk, like always….
Eileen bit her tongue. It would do no good to tell him exactly where to bloody well shove it. She knew how that ended. She knew far too well what Tobias was like when he flew into one of his rages. He claimed to love her and sometimes she believed him, but not when he seemed to only want to use her as a punching bag. He would beg her for forgiveness after; just as he always did. Just as she would bet anything his father had done to him. Eileen knew that Tobias had his own scars. The ones on his back reminded her of a lattice pie crust. He was just repeating a cycle, one that he wasn’t strong enough to break.
Tobias stood at the foot of her bed in all his horrible glory. His hair was a faded brown, his skin freckled and tanned from the sun, and his eyes a muddy brown. He smiled at her, but it was a rude smile, the kind that spoke to just how drunk he was.
Eileen gently laid Severus in the crib, kissing her son’s forehead softly. She wished that she could send him away to someone else, but she couldn’t. There was no one. Not after she chose Tobias.
There were a thousand things that she wanted to say to Tobias as she watched him, warily, but knew no good would come from any of them. She’d learned quickly how fast he could move, even inebriated. And she wasn’t foolish enough to rouse his ire with the baby so near. Her husband kicked off his boots and leered at her as if he was displeased with what he saw.
“Must you always act like you are scared of me, Ellie?”
She cringed away from his touch but said nothing. Long ago, she had learned it was better to stay silent, safer too. She wished that she wasn’t his wife. She yearned for Severus not to be his son. Eileen wished that she could wake up and she would be back in her childhood bedroom. She dreamed of many things that could have been better if she hadn’t stumbled into the pub on the corner one stormy night.
Eileen had been young then and charmed by a man who seemed so different than the one who was standing over her.
It was times like these that she regretted saying yes.