The Little Prince

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Eileen Prince, witching Wife to the Muggle Tobias Snape, was Mother to one beat down, dressed in rags, child-like, Severus Snape

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Eileen Prince, witching Wife to the Muggle Tobias Snape, was Mother to one beat down, dressed in rags, child-like, Severus Snape. She was skinny and unattractive, looking simultaneously cross and sullen. Hunched, sour-faced and sallow, she had heavy brows and a long, pallid face.

Early on in life, Eileen's decision to marry Tobias had resulted in her being disowned by her family— forever dooming the fate of not only her future, but her son's as well.
Severus' childhood was plagued by the tumultuous, explosive atmosphere in their run down home in Spinners End, Cokesworth. With his parents often fighting, both physically and with words- Severus had to endure the mental and physical abuse.

Neglected, his parents were to poor to care for him. Though it wasn't just the fact that they were poor, but rather because deep down, they just didn't care.

His clothes were always mismatched and did not fit properly, meals were never promised, but punishments were. In his little world, growing up, Demons were real and Love was fake. Food was a reward and spankings were a gift. Sleep was a treasure and bathing was a dip in a shallow trench. Yelling was normal, sentiments and affection a myth. Hugs were replaced with a shove, kisses a slap across the cheek. Knuckles replaced lips, belts and lashes the only form of an embrace. Holidays didn't exist, birthdays were forgotten, and the wishes wished on the falling star's were whispers on the wind. And just like the fading sun, so did his hope fade away- his tiny little world as dark as the night sky. It was there. In the depths of his obsidian eye's. A reflection so frightening in the eye's of a child, that even the Greek God's watching over the world pitied him.

 A reflection so frightening in the eye's of a child, that even the Greek God's watching over the world pitied him

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A young boy, pale and skinny, with ratty hair the color of coal, sat in a cobwebbed corner. His knees were pulled in to his chest, his hands covering his ears, as he violently rocked back and forth muttering aloud to himself.

They were fighting again.
They were always fighting.

He didn't know which one of them was worse- the ear piercing shrills that ripped from his screaming mother, or the snarling growls and biting barks his father belted out. Together, and the entire town knew their business. Even the raccoons and stray straggling felines scurried away from their brick building on the night's of their feuds. Of course, every night in their little home in Spinners End was a battle of the sexes. It was an every evening event.

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