The Potions Master and the Ravenclaw

Peter Bloody Pettigrew

TW: references to physical abuse.

"No, Severus! I will not be separated from you!" Madeline was indignant.

Snape sighed in deep frustration, closing his eyes and raking his hand through his long, black hair.

The Dark Lord had informed Severus that he was sending Peter Pettigrew to live with him and to serve as his "assistant," but Snape knew the little rodent was meant to spy on him. Even after all Snape had done, Voldemort still didn't trust him completely. He was also acutely aware that the Dark Lord intended Snape to keep an eye on Pettigrew, as well, killing two birds with the same stone for their master. He would not subject his wife to this misery. He patently refused.

"Madeline, I have told you time and time again I will not live in that house of horrors with you," he said, struggling to remain patient with his wife. "Not now, not ever, and certainly not with Peter bloody Pettigrew."

Voldemort was unaware of their home in Covent Garden and assumed that Madeline and Severus spent their time away from Hogwarts in Snape's childhood home in Cokeworth. Severus wanted to keep it that way.  This was precisely the reason he had not sold the house before now - so that this type of business could be transacted without tainting their home in Covent Garden.

"I don't care about Pettigrew, Severus. I'm not afraid of him," Madeline was getting angry. "I don't want us to live apart!"

"I know he seems weak, simpering and whimpering and falling at the Dark Lord's feet as he does, but you must remember that the man cut off his own fucking hand to give the Dark Lord a new physical body. He cast the spells to return the Dark Lord to power. He's not as pathetic as he appears. The man is completely motivated by fear, and fear is a mightily compelling force. And it must not be forgotten that he betrayed his own friends to serve the master. He is as responsible for the deaths of Lily and James Potter as I am. I don't want you anywhere near him. That is final."

"Severus, you couldn't have known Voldemort would presume the prophecy referred to Lily. You couldn't have known!"

"My lack of morality and subsequent guilt are not the topic of discussion here, crippling though they may be," he spat bitterly.

"I only want to be with you, Severus! I don't want to be parted from you! Please!" The pain in her face was destroying him.

He cursed violently and ripped off his robes, flinging them to the floor. He clawed at his cravat, hurriedly untying it, then unbuttoning his greatcoat and adding them to the pile of clothing on the rug. He angrily removed his shirt, slammed it to the ground, and turned his back to her.

"Look at my back, Madeline. Look at it. You have seen these scars countless times, but I want you to fully understand how I acquired them." His deep voice was drenched in bitterness. "A few were earned in battle, I admit, but the majority of them were given to me by my father. He used whatever was handy to gift me with these everlasting marks. His belt. His shoe. A leather strap. A cricket bat. That was a particular favorite, as it was a reminder to him that his son was a bookish, magical freak who would never play at sports like the sons of his mates at the pub. And sometimes he used his bare fucking fists. And I let him. I allowed him to scar me. Make me bleed. Break my bones. I took it. Sometimes I took it to spare my mother from a beating, but mostly I took it because I was too bloody weak to do anything else. I took it until I was old enough to use magic to defend myself without being sent to Azkaban or expelled from Hogwarts – the only safe home I had ever known."

He turned to face her. "So you'll pardon me if I don't wish to live in the place that is haunted by those memories with my wife. My wife and Peter fucking Pettigrew."