Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters, those belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: This is a rather short chapter, so please forgive it. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks.

Chapter One - On The Run

Dumbledore's death wasn't the worst of his problems. Though, he did wish that he wouldn't have been forced. No usually meant no in all circumstances with him, but this time, his loyalty was looked at as "questionable". So he did as told. Even if he thought that the orders were completely insane and useless.

Now he was forced into hiding, both sides looking for him. Of course the Order wasn't privy to the plan. Of course the Dark Lord wasn't privy to the plan...

Severus Snape had never thought of himself as a pawn until now. He'd always - always thought he had the upper hand. He was smart, quick, cunning... he was a Slytherin after all.

He dare not go to Spinner's End. Severus assumed that there were at least ten Death Eaters waiting for him to turn up, wands at the ready, mouths foaming with the anticipation of the chance to kill one of the Dark Lord's favourites.

Severus packed quickly the night of the incident. A few things he'd need, nothing more than he could carry with comfort, or stash away if he had to depart quickly. He knew now that it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord caught up with him... Would he die fighting? Or would he go ahead and surrender himself to the man he has feared since his seventeenth birthday?

He contemplated alone in a dirty Muggle hotel room on the outskirts of London. He was dressed in Muggle clothes; A pair of fine black linen slacks, and a comfortable black turtleneck. His hair was combed and parted down the middle, tucked behind his ears. He stared out of the filthy window into the damp darkness. It had rained earlier, and he watched it, the stormy clouds reflecting in the fathomless black eyes that were once every student's nightmare at Hogwarts.

A hard chill penetrated the room via a small crack in the roof. Severus didn't notice. He was so used to the cold hands of Lord Voldemort on his neck, his voice in his ear, whispering with freezing breath all the dirty deeds he would need done over the years. A shot of bitter resentment burned in his stomach with all it's wretched and vile glory.
No, he didn't notice the cold anymore. Until...

Tattered parchment pages began to flutter. A faded leather book peeked out from Severus' bag. Dates were written on the corners, the ink barely visible anymore. The wind blew it fiercely, until one page flew out, dancing in the air, catching Severus' eye, and breaking him from his reverie. In a fit of irritation, he snatched the paper out of the air and examined it.

He eyes narrowed as he tried to read the fading handwriting. The date was October 29, 1978. The first line was:

"For a werewolf... for a mongrel that puts himself in the ranks of cretins... he's not so horrid..."

Severus blanched. His heart hammered slightly as he read on painfully.

"The Halloween Feast is coming soon. Though, I don't expect that I will be going. Amongst all the noise and chaos... I have better things to work on, of course. Slughorn's Bezoar essay is due on the 1st, and that's much more important..."

Severus nodded to himself as if in agreement with his younger self expressing himself on parchment. Potions were far more important... He read on, his head tilted to the side.

"They teased me again today. I just got this bag over summer holiday... perhaps I can try to mend it with magic. If not, well, hopefully I'm not as horrid at sewing as I am at Divination. Bloody James Potter and his mongrel, Black. I should tell the Ministry on the lot of them... I know that they're not registered Animagi... I'll teach them a fucking thing or two... I hate the name Snievellus..."

Severus felt himself twitch slightly as he read on, his nostrils flared. Gods... How he hated them. How he had felt triumph and release when he heard of his death...

"...Lupin did nothing, as usual... though when they left, he touched my shoulder. He apologized... I have to admit that I'm terribly confused, and I dare not say anything to Lucius of this... what would he think of how I feel? I must not discuss it now, no need to discuss it anymore, really. I have Transfiguration."

Severus stared at the parchment. He hadn't read this in years. When he threw the old book into his bag... he thought first of the horrid things he'd said about the Dark Lord and his fellow followers. He hadn't even dreamt that he'd find this... Feelings long forgotten... He folded the parchment, walked across to the table his bag was sitting on, and stuffed it back in. He stood there for a moment, thinking back to his days at Hogwarts, and then, finally, he felt the cold.

He shivered, and looked up to the crack in the roof. He took out his wand and mended it, thinking that the Hotel owners would never know the difference. He stood next to the window, and the face of a werewolf crept into his mind, reflecting on the glass, looking straight at him. A blue-eyed, pale, scarred werewolf... and he had to admit, even if grudgingly, that indeed he wasn't so horrid at all.