Fic: In the Hour of Shadows

Title: In the Hour of Shadows
Author: Emynn
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: post HBP
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his cohorts, much to my sadness
Summary: Severus Snape found over the years that there was only one thing that made his birthdays bearable.
Author's Note: Better late than never? I came up with this plotbunny on January 9, and it took longer to write and edit than I thought it would. Thank you to fifercat19 for the encouragement and catching my mistakes.


“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus had no idea what a birthday was, or why it should be happy, but as long as he was being held by his mum, he was not going to protest. She smelled of warmth and sunshine. Severus rubbed his face against her shoulder, not at all minding the roughness of her robes. His mum seemed to like it when he snuggled against her, because she started to laugh quietly. The soft vibrations made Severus giggle himself.

His mum moved to put Severus back in his crib. He began to whimper immediately. He hated his crib, being alone, surrounded by bars, able to see the outside world but unable to escape into it. She shushed him and pulled a brightly colored bag out from behind her. Severus ceased his crying to see what his mum would pull out of the bag.

“Look, Severus, won’t this be nice?”

It was from his mum, so, yes, it was very nice. But exactly what he was to do with a bunch of green and silver snakes dangling from skinny sticks he did not know. He stared up at her patiently, knowing she would explain.

“It’s a mobile,” she said, as though this explained everything. “Watch.” She fastened it to the head of his crib, and immediately the contraption began to rotate. The snakes smiled and danced, hissing a lullaby Severus had heard his mum sing many times.

“They’ll keep you company, my little Prince.”

Severus smiled. He liked the snakes. He only wished he could understand what they were saying. He reached one chubby hand up, hoping to be able to catch one, but the snake only hissed and glided out of reach.

“Isn’t that a bit morbid?”

Severus frowned. His nursery now smelled of tobacco and thunderstorms. The snakes continued to dance above him, but now he could only focus on his mum.

“It’s not morbid,” she said, her voice only shaking a little. “It’s pride. Our baby is a wizard, and when he goes to school he will be…”

Severus wailed as he heard the loud crack. His mum stumbled but didn’t fall.

“I’ve told you before, there will be no mention of THAT in this house so long as I am here! What do you want-”

Severus continued to cry as his father dragged his mum out of the room. The snakes hissed louder in a vain attempt to drown out the cries from down the stairs. Severus looked up at them, his vision blurry, and, for a split second, thought he saw green eyes gazing sadly at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus stared sullenly at his Aunt Amelia. It hurt to do so. She looked so much like his mum, the same dark hair and pale long face. The only thing that was missing was a fresh bruise across her left cheek.

“Your mother wanted to be with you. If the hospital had let her out, she’d be with you in a heartbeat. It isn’t every day her little boy turns seven.”

Severus didn’t say anything. He caught sight of a spider dangling from a silken thread right behind his aunt and focused on that instead.

“She did give me this,” his aunt said, handing him an envelope. “She does love you, Severus.”

Severus glanced at the writing on the envelope (To my Prince) and put it in his pocket. He centered his attention back on the spider.

His aunt sighed. “Supper is at seven.”

Severus would not have noticed her exit if the slam of the door hadn’t caused the spider’s thread to snap. Certain that his aunt was truly gone, he took the envelope in his hands, examining it closely, until he could see the ink stains of the individual fibers of the parchment. My Prince. My Prince. My Prince.

If he were a prince, he could have protected his mother. If his mother were a real witch, she could have protected herself.

Magic can’t fix everything.

Severus looked around his room frantically to find where the voice had come from, but it was as empty as it had been the second before.

“Where are you? Who are you?”

Nowhere and nothing yet. But someday. Someday I will be with you every day. Don’t worry.

A slight breeze danced over the envelope.

“Wait! What do you mean?”

Someday.

The envelope rustled in the wind. The room was silent and deafening all at once.

“Please! I’m scared.”

Just as the wind died, Severus felt a great warmth fill his chest. He saw something standing in the corner of his room, but the being’s face and body were so blurry that all he could focus on were the green eyes gazing wistfully at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus glared at his father with as haughty a look as he could muster. He hated him and feared him. Hated him for killing his mother, feared him because only a true monster of a Muggle could kill a witch.

“Won’t be long now, will it?”

Severus didn’t bother pretending not to know what his father was talking about. He shook his head.

“It will make life much easier,” Tobias Snape continued. “Charlotte has no idea, of course. She would be horrified if she knew.” He shuddered violently, just in case Severus did not know how truly horrified Charlotte would be at the discovery that her boyfriend’s only son was a wizard.

“But with you away at school, we won’t have to worry about any, ahem, accidents, now, will we?”

Severus’s hand twitched reflexively around the wand he had removed from his mother’s bedside table right after her death. He didn’t know many spells, but it gave him a feeling a power, as though he were a brave and revered prince with a ready ally at his side at all times.

“I think we will marry in October. Yes, that will give us time to plan it, and you will be settled in your new school by then.”

Severus told himself that he did not care that his father had moved on to another woman so quickly, that he was a horrible person and his mother could have done better anyway.

“Oh, right. Your birthday. Here.”

Severus took the unwrapped package from his father. Inside were photographs, hundred of photographs, some family shots, some fading, some moving…but all of Eileen Prince Snape.

“I did love her. I know you don’t believe me, but I did. If only she hadn’t -”

“But she was,” Severus snapped, surprising even himself. It had been so long since he had spoken out loud.

His father’s eyes hardened. “Suit yourself.”

Alone once again, Severus kneeled on the floor to examine the photographs. He could almost see himself in his mum’s face, could almost feel her heart beat against his as she hugged him tightly after those nightly battles.

A current of air swept through the room. Excited, triggered by an odd sense of déjà vu, Severus glanced around the room. A photograph of his mother standing outside in a storm, her face illuminated by lightning, fell into his lap. As Severus traced the rain drops dripping down her face, he knew he saw green eyes gazing thoughtfully at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus had his wand out before Sirius Black could take another breath. “What do you want?”

Black had the gall to look hurt. “What, Severus, am I no longer allowed to extend birthday greetings?”

“You never have before.” Curiosity got the better of him. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

“Regulus told me. He said the Slytherins have some sort of bulletin to keep track of that sort of thing.”

Severus lowered his wand but did not loosen his grip. “That doesn’t explain why you feel the need to wish me a happy birthday.”

“We’re teenagers now, Severus!” Sirius exclaimed. “It’s time to be a bit more mature. Don’t you think we’re getting a little old for petty tricks and pranks?”

Severus cursed his heart for fluttering so hopefully. He had yet to make a true friend at Hogwarts. Certainly, he had acquaintances, and Lucius seemed to like him well enough, but he was so much older. But a real friend his age? Never.

And there’s a reason for that, he thought to himself. Greasy, disgusting, hex everybody to pieces if they get less than an arm’s length away…don’t trust him.

But he couldn’t shake the feelings of happiness threatening to erupt. He could almost feel his mother standing behind him, her face glowing with pride as her Prince made a friend.

“Look, I even got you a present,” Sirius continued. He handed Severus a heavy package wrapped in bottle green paper. “I saw it and I thought of you.”

Severus couldn’t help it. His face broke out in a huge grin. A friend a friend a friend!

“Oh, look at the time!” Sirius said, glancing at his watch. “I have class in five minutes. See you later, Severus!”

Severus waved jerkily after Sirius, his wrist unused to the movement, and then turned excitedly to his present. When he opened it, it felt as though he had swallowed a load of molten lead. Personal Hygiene Spells for the Young Wizard. Humiliated, he could feel his neck prickling, his face burning, even his hands…

As Severs rested alone in the hospital wing, his hands covered with white bandages, he took comfort in the green eyes gazing sorrowfully at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus didn’t even bother looking up from his book. Lily Evans was not worth his time. Filthy Mudblood. To his dismay, she sat down next to him.

“Are you doing anything to celebrate?”

Severus made a great show of turning a page.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Severus heaved a great sigh and slowly closed his book. “Miss Evans, it may have escaped your notice, but we are in a library. In a library, one typically reads. The library is not here for conversations.”

She laughed. He hadn’t said anything funny. How dare she laugh. Severus opened his book so forcefully that the spine cried out in agony. Lily quickly put a silencing spell on it.

“I could have done that.”

“I know you could have. But then you might have used it as an excuse to avoid talking to me. And I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

“Fine, get on with it,” Severus said, waving an impatient hand.

“I was wondering if you would want to work with me on Slughorn’s project.”

Severus stared at her, stunned. He had fully expected to work on the experiment by himself. Not that he minded, of course. He relished the challenge of working without a partner to aid him and being able to have complete control. But then Slughorn always had to make some comment about how it wouldn’t do for such a talented Slytherin to work alone, and wouldn’t anybody want the chance to work with such a prodigy? Then Severus would have to pretend that he didn’t mind the snickering , (because Princes had thick skins and did not care what the miserable masses were saying, and Severus, if nothing else, was a Prince), and would instead frantically scribble notes in his mother’s potions book. Nobody ever wanted to work with him, and for good reason. Evans might not have been extending a serious offer, but that was too bad. She would have to suffer the consequences of mocking Severus Snape. Before he could open his mouth, Lily began speaking again.

“I had some ideas, of course, but I’d be interested in what you had to say.”

Severus was suddenly struck by how very green (green green GREEN) the girl’s eyes were. He had always thought of his phantom as male, as it offered such a sense of protection that only a male would be strong enough to emit, but perhaps he had been mistaken, perhaps it was Evans who was to watch over him, to be with him.

“I –”

“Evans, what are you doing here? Did Snivellus kidnap you?”

“James, leave me alone.”

“Come on, Lily, you don’t want to have to smell like wormwood and frog spleen for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll smell like whatever I feel like! I was asking Severus a question. Severus?”

Severus tore his eyes away from her emerald green ones. What was he thinking? She might as well be Lily Potter. And with Potter came Black, and Lupin, and teethfangsblood. She would never be his. He didn’t want her anyway. Even his phantom had been mocking him, taunting him with a person who would never want him.

“I was planning on working alone.” And he returned to his book, unable to shake his sadness at the loss of his phantom’s friendship.

To his surprise, that night in bed he caught a clear glimpse of green eyes gazing tenderly at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

This had to be a nightmare. Because nobody, not even the maddest of men, would be willingly participating in this spectacle. They were in an elegant ballroom glittering with gold and crystals. Alcohol and blood flowed freely, and, if Severus were not mistaken, there was a harp playing a minuet in the background.

And there was his father, lying bound and gagged before him, his face purple, his body covered in blood and bruises. He was writhing on the floor in agony, demanding to be heard above the Death Eaters’ revelry.

“I’ll kill you all! You’re going to Hell! Satanic fools! Where is Severus? I know he’s involved with this! Show him to me, you cowards.”

Lucius chuckled and handed Severus a glass of champagne. “What do you say? Shall we cave to the Muggle’s demands?”

The champagne tasted like acid going down his throat. Severus swallowed back bile before he spoke. “Yes. Let’s humor the fool.”

The blindfold vanished. It took a minute for Tobias’s eyes to adjust to the light, but they soon fixed upon Severus.

“You.” Blood spouted from his mouth.

“Yes, Father, me.”

“The Dark Lord has been most pleased with your progress over the year, Severus,” Lucius said, eying Tobias’s twitching body with amusement. “And he is quite aware of your…animosity towards your father. Enjoy your present.”

And then it was no longer just Severus, his father, and Lucius. The Dark Lord was there, with the Lestranges, the Rookwoods, the Crabbes, the Goyles… hoods and masks forming one impenetrable black wall all around him.

“I knew it,” his father rasped. “I knew there was no hope for you. Not with your mother being what she was.” He paused to cough up some more blood. A tooth fell out. Severus stepped back in disgust.

“Go on, think you can kill me, boy? Go ahead. Why so hesitant? I didn’t realize wizards were supposed to be cowards.”

Severus was all too aware of the activity around him. The murmurings, the excitement were almost palpable. There was a sour smell of exultation in the air. He was ready to vomit. He had prided himself on his relatively pure status among the Death Eaters. He had never directly killed a person. Tortured, yes. Created a potion that would kill them, yes. But to actually murder somebody? His hands were not yet that bloody.

And now they had all stopped dancing and were all watching him. The ballroom was thrumming with energy so intense that Severus feared the room would somehow snap in half and they would fall screaming into a great hole in the earth and melt with the lava.

But that would make life pleasant, and life existed to spite Severus Snape.

He had no choice, really. Spare his father and be killed by the Death Eaters. Kill his father and simply damn his soul a little more. He only wished he could stop the trembling in his hand and he raised his wand.

“Foul, filthy, disgusting, a Prince just like your mother, burning in Hell.”

Severus closed his eyes, unable to bear the blinding emerald light that was the exact same shade of the eyes of his phantom.

As Severus sat in the armchair in front of Dumbledore’s desk, stroking the phoenix’s feathers and listening to the headmaster talk of a new beginning, he was somewhat warmed by the feeling that he had somehow redeemed himself slightly for the green eyes gazing anxiously at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus looked up from the papers he was marking. To the untrained eye, there was no black ink left on the parchment, but Severus still saw countless errors glaring up at him, begging to be corrected in the most merciless way possible.

“Igor, I told you not to bother me again.”

Igor smiled and slid into a seat in front of Severus’s desk. Severus hated his smile. Yellow, twisted teeth, as though a dog had chewed them up and then, finding them too difficult to digest, spat them back out again. Severus’s teeth probably looked very similar, not that he cared. Because he didn’t.

“I hardly think stopping by to wish you a happy birthday is bothering you, Severus.”

Severus turned back to the papers. You are in need of a wit-sharpening potion yourself if you cannot remember that the scarab beetles need to be ground. Although whatever potion you brew will most likely be toxic enough to poison the entire world with its fumes alone.

“Come now, Severus, the least you could do is say thank you.”

Severus slammed his quill down. “Thank you, Igor, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now would you get the fuck out of my classroom?”

Igor laughed. “That’s the Severus I’ve always adored. Now, how about a drink?”

And suddenly he was no longer sitting, but touching Severus’s shoulder, as though they were the closest of friends and quite possibly more, not the unfortunate colleagues that they truly were. Waves of revulsion shuddered through Severus’s body.

“I’m not thirsty.” Oh God, he felt like a prim schoolgirl.

“But I am,” Igor whispered, his thin, worm-like lips just grazing Severus’s right ear. “Could you provide for me?”

Severus gulped frantically for air. He was feeling horribly claustrophobic. He just wanted to be alone. There was safety in solitude. One never knew what might happen with somebody else in the room. “No, I don’t think so. I have at least fifteen more papers to mark before I can possibly think of taking a break.”

“Ah. I can see how tearing apart young Potter’s ego might be satisfying.”

Potter? Who said anything about Potter? Severus looked down at the paper he was correcting. Ah, so it was Potter’s. He should have suspected as much from the sheer absurdity of the assertions in it. It was a wonder the boy had not managed to get himself killed by an exploding cauldron yet.

“I am simply doing my job.”

“Interesting how he should find himself in this Tournament,” Igor said as he began to pace the room, apparently losing interest in propositioning Severus. “Underage…a second student from Hogwarts.”

“We have already covered this, Igor. I have no idea how it happened. I for one would prefer that he not participate. The age restriction was imposed for a reason.”

“Protective?”

It took Severus all of his years of training as a spy to keep from sputtering in astonishment. “What ever thought is circulating in your admittedly deficient mind?”

“Nothing, nothing. But I saw you during the First Task. That wasn’t hatred, Severus. You were afraid. You thought he’d be killed, that he’d smash his skull against the rocks, that the Horntail would send him into a burst of flames, that he’d never open his stunning green–”

Stop it stop it “Stop it, Igor. You are being ridiculous.”

Another laugh. “Call it what you may. I just find it puzzling that the man who once proclaimed himself to be the most devout of the Dark Lord’s servants would be so…intrigued by the very person who brought about his downfall.”

“I do not waste any of my time thinking about the Dark Lord.”

“No, you don’t need to, not when you have this.”

Severus stared down at his arm as Igor slowly lifted up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, today only slightly discolored.

“You cannot deny this, Severus.”

“I believe you will find that I can.”

Igor shrugged. “I will see you at supper. Perhaps the house elves will serve cake.”

Severus sighed in relief as Igor left his rooms. He no longer felt so much like a caged animal, but the insinuations about Potter left him feeling highly uncomfortable. He hated the boy, he truly did. He was arrogant, refused on a daily basis to use his brain, and showed absolutely no respect for the rules that would keep him alive. He also had eyes that looked like a river, scattered with lily pads and emeralds, reflecting the green foliage of an overhanging willow, haunting, endless, omnipresent…

Severus looked around the room, anxious to see the phantom once more. It had been a trying year, dealing with the Dark Lord’s inevitable return, obnoxious students, and Igor’s incessant demands for conversation. He had little to look forward to in life, and if the only pleasure he knew he would get was from a mysterious, faceless ghost, so be it.

But there were no eyes to be seen. Igor had somehow jinxed it with his violent words, Severus was sure of it. He was halfway tempted to brew a green potion, any green potion, with such potent fumes that he would hallucinate and see the green eyes appear in the vapors, just to get him through another year.

Humiliated at how pathetic his life had become, Severus turned back to his office. But as his robes billowed around him, he was relieved to see a pair of green eyes gazing reassuringly at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus had been staring at the hearth for so long that he did not even notice that Narcissa Malfoy had emerged from it until she had spoken. Somehow her pale hair had blended in with the flames, flames leaping in a primal war dance for hour and hours until they gave a final flicker and died, died like …

“Thank you, Narcissa. How very kind of you to remember.”

“I brought you something,” she said, holding out a bottle of wine. “But it appears as though you don’t really have a need for it.”

Whatever was she talking about now? Severus raised a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, only to realize that he was holding a glass of some alcoholic beverage. He took a cautious sniff. Firewhisky.

“Never, Narcissa. Please, have a seat. I will get some glasses for the two of us, and we can enjoy your undeniably superior wine.”

“It’s not necessary, Severus,” she said with a slight wave of her manicured hand. “I cannot stay for long. I only wanted to greet you a happy birthday and to –”

Ah, yes. Whether Draco was safe. If his plan was going well. If Severus was still ready to give his life for a beautiful, spoiled whelp.

“Everything is fine, Narcissa.”

“It’s only that he tells me so little in his letters! He will only say that he knows what he’s doing, that he doesn’t need any help. But he’s just a boy, Severus! How can he?”

Severus took a long sip of his Firewhisky. “But he is also exceedingly like his father. I have no doubt that Draco does have a plan.”

“So did Lucius, and look –” Narcissa stopped, a look of abject horror on her face. “Oh, I didn’t mean that! I didn’t! It is an honor for Draco to be so much like his father! Severus, surely you believe me.”

“Of course I do.” Not that it mattered one way or the other. He was a dead man walking. Die from breaking an Unbreakable Vow. Die for killing Dumbledore. The only difference was that the latter was likely to be less painful. Physically, at least.

Narcissa’s expression softened. She truly was a beautiful woman. “I am so grateful, Severus, you know that. I have complete faith in you.”

And that will be my downfall. “Thank you, Narcissa. Now, not to be rude, but –”

She smiled. “Ah, a birthday guest? Congratulations, Severus. You really have been alone for far too long. I hope you have a lovely evening.”

Which left Severus alone only with alcohol, a roaring fire, and his thoughts. A very dangerous combination.

Oh, how he hurt! Every bone of his body felt as though it were splintering, every muscle tearing, every organ rupturing. He had been comfortable at Hogwarts. It was the closest thing he had to a home, his colleagues the closest things he had to friends. And in less than a year, its doors would be bolted shut to him. Once again, he would be forced to kill, only this time it would be on Dumbledore’s orders. And he would then be even more of an outcast than in his own schooldays, with some obscene reward on his head. Pouring himself some more alcohol, he wondered if it would have been easier to have simply killed himself before turning to Dumbledore. At least then he would still have his dignity.

What if he just forgot about it all? Run off to a distant island and actually enjoyed his last few months of freedom before the Unbreakable Vow realized it was being cheated and slowly choked Severus to death? But then he would have failed everybody, the Order, Dumbledore, his mother, his phantom. What a waste of a Prince’s life. But at least killing Dumbledore would have its uses for somebody. Even if he had to kill again, this time on Dumbledore’s orders.

Severus always knew to stop drinking once his thoughts started to run in circles, unless he wanted to spend the next day in bed with a throbbing headache. He carefully set his drink on a nearby table. Then, thinking better of it, he snatched up the glass and hurled it with all of his might, taking great delight in the way it shattered and made the alcohol run down the stone wall like golden blood.

As he turned to go to his bedroom, he noticed, for what would most likely be the very last time, a pair of green eyes gazing confidently at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus turned to glare at the miniature portrait resting on his makeshift desk of two wooden crates he had liberated from a nearby shop. Albus Dumbledore never feared anything, however, and his portrait certainly was not scared of a scowling former professor. In fact, if Severus’s eyes were not deceiving him, he was actually merrily chewing one of those saccharine Muggle sweets.

“Albus, one would think that since you are deceased you would possibly stop reminding me of days I wish I could forget.”

“And one would think that one who is finally away from the talkative children that he claims to despise would finally smile once in a while, but clearly that is not so.”

Severus rolled his eyes and glanced at the moth-eaten blanket that he was lucky enough to catch as a child flung it from her pram that evening. Ah, the glories of being a fugitive. He should consider himself fortunate, he knew, that he was able to stay in this shack for more than a week. Of course, the reason for that was because it was slowly sinking into a marsh and was unlikely to last more than a week. But Severus Snape had become a desperate man, and desperate men did not demand silk sheets and fluffed pillows as though they were princes. Ever resourceful, he eyed the crates again. Perhaps if he flipped them over and cut out a wall of each, he would be able to build a makeshift coffin. It might help take the chill out of the air.

He hunched over, suddenly overcome by a coughing fit. Disgusted, his spat some of the phlegm out in a corner of the room.

“You need to do something about that, my boy.”

“Of course, Albus,” Severus sneered. “I shall just enter Saint Mungo’s, announce that I am Severus Snape, the evil man who murdered the noble Albus Dumbledore, and that I require treatment for the common cold. I am sure that would go over splendidly.”

“Perhaps if you found Harry –”

“Albus, I have told you this a thousand times: Potter will not help me. He hates me. No matter how righteous, kind-hearted, and just you claim that boy is, the fact remains that he views me just as the rest of the wizarding world does: as a Death Eater. I would prefer to find my death be on my own terms rather than at the end of that boy’s wand.”

Severus turned away from the portrait, unable to stand his mentor’s sympathetic gaze.

“I am so sorry for the way these things had to play out, Severus.”

“Of course,” Severus murmured, glancing about the room. Plywood walls, smudged windows, a few draperies which may once have been considered to be luxurious. Even ignoring the slum-like conditions, he knew that something was off.

“I am. And I still insist that you are underestimating Harry.”

Severus stared at a small picture frame hanging just to the right of what remained of the door. Finally realizing that Dumbledore had spoken to him, he smiled slightly and whispered, so softly that he himself almost missed it, “Perhaps you are correct.”

But not once did he look away from the pair of green eyes gazing kindly at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus did not look up from the spider he was studying as it moved quickly up the stone wall. So many legs, moving in a constantly flowing pattern, like a tiny black river undulating up towards the heavens. Sometimes, he had come to realize, if he concentrated enough on the little signs of life within his dank cell, he could keep at least a tenuous grip on his sanity as the dementors closed in on him, greedily sucking at his soul.

He had lost all track of time after being imprisoned in Azkaban. He knew that he had been captured a month after Potter had finally killed the Dark Lord, and that had been in early June. It must have been months since then, because his hair was now well past his shoulder blades and his beard was rather thick. When he was a professor, he despised facial hair, but now the itch served as a reminder that he was still alive, which was a thing he vaguely recalled that he should be grateful for. He was no longer hungry – it was difficult to have an appetite when one’s thoughts were always filled with blood, screams, and blinding green lights.

The dementors were rather fond of reliving Severus’s birthdays. Even the happiest of his birthdays, whatever one that might have been, was tainted with bitterness. But now when Severus recalled them in this prison, the green eyes on the featureless face, the only things that had given him hope of warmth throughout the long, cold years, turn angry and accusative. Severus focused even more determinedly on the spider’s movement – he would not remember those things again today.

“Well, it’s not really your birthday yet,” the voice continued. “That’s tomorrow. But Azkaban doesn’t allow visitors on Sundays. Besides, I thought you might like to know about this right away.”

This was new. Usually the dementors did not taunt him. He dared a glance up.

Not a dementor. Harry Potter. Harry Potter, in simple green robes, his hair as messy as it had always been if a little longer, his scar as present as ever. He was carrying a thick stack of parchment in one hand and his wand in the other. That was another surprise – Severus could have sworn visitors were not allowed wands inside Azkaban.

“Um, anyway, a bit of a birthday present for you. I’ve been spending the last couple of months talking with the Ministry. They’ve finally decided to give you a trial. A real one. Not that sham of last August. Witnesses, evidence and everything.”

Severus looked down at the floor. He would not get his hopes up. A new trial only meant another day of reliving the horrors of his past, but this time sitting upon a wooden throne in front of a court of condemnatory lords. At the end of the day, he would be back in his cell watching the spider spin her web.

“There’s a lot going on in your favor. Dumbledore left really clear notes, and all of his portraits have been most vehement in your defense. Not to mention his Pensieve. I think that’s what’s really going to win your case. It’s completely obvious that it hasn’t been tampered in any way. I really do think you’ll be able to go free.”

“And then what?” Severus bit his tongue in disbelief. He did not intend to speak, did not even realize he still possessed the ability. Potter looked just as startled. Severus vaguely recalled the boy visiting him a few times before, but he had never been sure if he was actually seeing a real person or merely hallucinating.

“Well, I don’t know. We’ll just have to see what happens. Um, no matter what, I don’t think you’ll be able to get your job back at Hogwarts, but I don’t think that’d bother you too much.” Potter laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Perhaps you could open a shop or write your memoirs or something. Whatever you want to do, really. And, you know, I’d help you. With whatever. Um, if you want it.”

Severus sat down on his pallet. In another lifetime, it might have been unbearably funny. Harry Potter timidly offering his help to the greasy Severus Snape. But today it was simply too much to take. Severus began to wonder again if the dementors were merely taunting him. And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray’s in deepest consequence. But what Potter was offering wasn’t simply a trifle – the dementors would really be outdoing themselves.

Potter shuddered. “Sorry, I don’t think I can take too much longer in here. Don’t know how you can stand it. I couldn’t believe it when Scrimgeour put dementors back here. You would have thought the Ministry would have learned by now.” Another tremor ran through Potter’s body; Severus wondered if he himself looked the same or if his body had simply grown immune to the horrors and no longer shook. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll be back, I promise.”

Severus nodded. Perhaps Dumbledore had been correct in telling him to trust Potter. Severus wondered if hope was consumed by the dementors as well. He hoped not – he rather liked the fluttering it caused in his stomach.

“Oh, wait,” Potter said as he dug through his robes. Finally, he pulled out a single Chocolate Frog and handed it to Severus. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have right now. It must be better than that porridge they serve here. You don’t have to wait for your birthday to eat it if you don’t want to. Or you can. Whatever you want. It’s your birthday.”

Severus examined the Chocolate Frog carefully. He remembered hating them. So sickly sweet, lacking the richness of proper Honeyduke’s chocolates. But somehow this little schoolboy’s treat seemed like the grandest gift in the world. He would eat a small piece today, and another tomorrow, savoring it for as long as he could.

“Thank you.”

Harry smiled, visibly relieved. “I’ll see you next week then. Bye.”

The next night, Severus was still so absorbed with his treasure that he barely noticed the green eyes gazing assuredly at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

Severus shielded his eyes from the blinding light. Potter didn’t seem to be affected by it, so it must be typical English weather for him. To Severus, the sunlight was excruciating. Excruciating, and yet magnificent at the same time.

“Pretty nice birthday present, isn’t it? Being able to leave that bloody place. Even if you do have to come with me.”

The radiant light slowly dimmed to a more tolerable glow. “I do appreciate your volunteering to take me in, Potter. I shall endeavor to stay out of your way. You shan’t even know that I’m living in your home.”

Potter laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I kind of like the idea of having somebody living with me. It’s been too quiet ever since Ginny left. I have a feeling you’ll keep me on my toes. I look forward to it.”

“Nevertheless, it was very … decent of you to offer your home to me. I doubt I would have made it out of the homes of one of your colleagues alive.”

“Why, Severus,” Potter said, grinning. “Are you saying you trust me?”

Severus looked down at the ground. The grass was greener than he remembered, the grains of dirt larger. He was glad to be rid of his beard, because he knew he would not have been able to bear growing accustomed to a covered face in sunshine as well as all these other new sensations. He supposed he had Potter to thank for that as well. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

The smile did not fade from the other man’s face. Severus wondered when he began to think of Potter as a man. Perhaps on the first day of the trial, when he spent hours arguing in Severus’s defense until it seemed as though he would collapse with the effort. Or perhaps on the twentieth day, when Potter wrestled a would-be assassinator to the ground and held her down until the Aurors reluctantly took her away. Or just the day before, when Potter had handed him his mother’s wand, casually saying that he happened to find it in a Ministry office even as his eyes told a very different story. Whenever it was, it was clear that Harry Potter was certainly a man now. A man with strong, defined cheekbones, intense green eyes, and a mouth that was currently smiling only at him.

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Potter suddenly stopped in front of a patch of white flowers, knelt down, and stroked a small green garden snake basking in the sun. As the snake quivered in pleasure, Severus watched in amazement as a small cottage materialized just behind it. With so much time spent in isolation, he had forgotten how magic worked.

Potter gave him a thorough tour of the house. Despite the house’s small appearance, the rooms were all large and spacious. Sunlight managed to filter in through every window, even the tiny one in the downstairs washroom. It was the very antithesis of Azkaban – it was a castle fit for a prince.

Severus’s bedroom was no exception. The furniture was made of shiny mahogany wood, and the green sheets on his bed looked most inviting. The bureau and bedside tables were bare save for some lamps and mirrors, but that did not make the room look any less welcoming. In fact, it looked like something out of a magazine.

“I just stocked up on some of the books you missed while you were … well, you know,” Potter said, gesturing towards the two ceiling-high bookshelves. “Then I asked Hermione for some suggestions on the more academic ones. She seemed to think you’d like them.”

Severus ran a hand down a row of leather-bound novels. It was almost like his library at Hogwarts. Perhaps someday he could go to Diagon Alley and buy some more … he quickly bit down the thought. Potter wasn’t likely to want to go shopping with him, and he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house unattended for three more years. It was best not to think of those things until then.

“I was thinking we could do some shopping tomorrow. You’re going to need some clothes. I altered some of mine to fit you, but you could do with some of your own.”

Severus wondered exactly when Potter had learned Legilimency.

“Then, if you’d like some more space of your own, we could add a room next to the parlor. You could make it a laboratory or a study, whatever you’d like, really.”

“When ever did you become so thoughtful and generous, Potter?”

Potter flushed. “I want you to be comfortable,” he mumbled. “You have to stay here for seven years. I just want to make sure you’re happy here. As happy as you can be, anyhow.”

Severus sat on his bed, his head reeling. This past year, the past four years, had simply been too much to take. An Order member, a Death Eater, a prisoner, and now a … what was he, exactly, to Potter? Not a prisoner as the Ministry had implied, because no jailor would care so much about his inmate’s comfort. Severus did not know quite what he was, what Potter was, what anything was.

“I apologize. I meant no offense, Mister Potter.”

Potter smiled again. Severus wondered exactly what he was doing to make the man smile so much today, but he hoped he would not stop. He quite enjoyed the look on him.

“You know, as long as we’re living together, you could call me Harry.”

Severus nodded. “As you wish.” At Harry’s expectant look, he added, “Harry.”

Harry’s grin spread even wider. Severus felt some of his confusion ebb away. Pot – Harry inspired something in him. With that beaming look on his face, it was quite difficult to imagine that everything would be as horrible as Severus’s pessimistic mind had thought.

“With the trial and then fixing up your room, I didn’t have time to get you a birthday present,” Harry said, apparently ignoring the fact that a warm bed and a warmer host were more of a gift than Severus had ever received. “But I left a little treat in your bedside table. It’s not much, but you seemed to like it last time.”

Despite his odd excitement, Severus could not stifle a yawn. It had been a long day.

“You should get some rest,” Harry said. “I’m just going to be filling out some paperwork in my room. It’s right across the hall. I’m afraid there’s not much in the house, but I’ll manage to find something for supper a little bit later.”

Severus nodded and fell back onto the freshly fluffed pillows. Unable to resist any longer, he rolled over and tugged at the drawer in his bedside table. A Chocolate Frog smiled up at him, stirring emotions in Severus that he did not even know he had possessed. How could a childish piece of chocolate that cost no more than a few knuts make him feel as though he had stepped into a warm, lavender-scented bath after a night in a blizzard? Azkaban must have done something to his hormones.

Harry was on the frog’s trading card. Severus was vaguely disappointed that his smile was not as bright in the picture as it was in real life. He read over the brief biography of the wizarding hero, which only served to bolster his nascent confidence that Harry Potter was indeed a great wizard.

He eagerly ate the Chocolate Frog, somehow certain that there would be more to come. The last thing he saw before falling asleep was a pair of green eyes gazing hopefully at him.

~*~

“Happy birthday, Severus.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

Severus had never thought he would live to see his 46th birthday. Yet here he was, eating pancakes with the Boy Who Lived, trying to ignore the small pile of presents stacked on the counter. Life certainly had a strange sense of humor. Strange, yet wonderful.

“What do you want to do today? I think that antique bookstore is open today, we could stop by there and then eat at that Italian place you liked so much last time. Or we could go to the new exhibit in the Muggle museum. Or,” Harry went on, glancing down at his hands. “I could just stay out of your way all day. I took the day off, but I can find something to do. You can stay in bed all day or something.”

There was something highly amusing in the nervous blush that still sometimes crossed Harry’s face when he talked to Severus. Even after they spent long nights screaming at each other and other nights steadfastly ignoring each other, even after collapsing in laughter on some days and tears on others, even after they had seen each other vomiting and delirious with fever, he would still flush like a scared schoolboy afraid of being berated. Severus was rather pleased with the effect his years of teaching had on his former student.

“What if I wished to play in the snow?”

Harry’s face returned to its normal color. Severus tried not to be disappointed. “Well, sure. If you want to, I can go find some warm cloaks and boots. We may have to borrow some sleds if you want to try that.”

Severus laughed, unable to resist Harry’s confused expression. “I think not. But now that I know you are willing to do whatever I wish …”

Harry’s smile was even more appealing than his blush. “Fine, fine. But I’m serious. What do you want to do today? Anything you want, anything at all.”

Severus leaned back in his chair and rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I believe I shall be content with the day if I could only have one of those Chocolate Frogs.”

“Well, that works out nicely,” Harry chuckled. He walked over to the counter and tossed Severus a brightly wrapped package. “I happen to have just the thing.”

Severus quickly busied himself liberating the chocolates from their shelter. As he munched off the unfortunate creature’s head, he looked at the trading card.

“It’s you again.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think almost all of them are of me now. You would think that after nearly ten years, they would stop feeling the need to plaster my picture over everything.”

“I don’t know,” Severus said thoughtfully. “I think I will add it to my collection.”

“You know,” Harry said casually. “They’ve started a petition to put your face on the cards.”

Severus snorted. “By ‘they,’ I assume you mean ‘you.’”

Harry shrugged. “What difference does it make? Point is, there’s a petition going around.”

Severus took another bite out of the Chocolate Frog in an attempt to hide his pleased smile. He had already let his intimidating, overbearing persona drop too much around Harry. It wouldn’t be fitting to appear to be susceptible to flattery.

“You never said what you wanted to do for dinner. I could make veal if you want. We don’t have any fish in the house, but I can pick some up if you really –”

“Harry,” Severus said, reluctantly setting aside a relieved Chocolate Frog. “Why are you fretting so much over my birthday? I assure you, what you have already provided for me is far more than I have received in previous years. You need not trouble yourself any more than you already have.”

“I’m not! Is it too much to want your – you to have a nice birthday?”

“For me, nice is a relative term. As long as I am not forced to kill anybody, play host to dementors, or suffer the presence of Igor Karkaroff, I would be having a nice birthday. There is no reason for all of this.”

Harry shook his head incredulously. “You don’t get it, do you?” When Severus did not say anything, Harry continued. “It’s your last birthday here. It’s your last day here. Your confinement ends at midnight. I just wanted to make sure you were happy your last day with – your last day here.”

Over the years, Severus had learned that Harry Potter had many faces, and that he was very fond of most of them. Anger, happiness, amusement, sulkiness … but the one that Severus could not stand was sadness. At that moment, Severus, feeling as though his own heart were breaking, wanted nothing more than to rush up to Harry and hold him until his sorrow completely drained from his body.

“Is it truly my last day here?”

Harry looked up, his visage of sadness replaced with one of annoyance. Much more tolerable on Severus’s emotions. “Don’t play with me, Severus. You know it is. Seven years in the house of Harry Potter. Your time is up. You can go wherever you want to. Don’t pretend you won’t.”

“What if I were to say that I wished to stay here?”

“Right,” Harry said with a bitter laugh. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Well, it’s the only place where I’ve ever had a birthday cake.”

“I burned the second layer and then dropped it on the floor,” Harry said, but his lips were pricking upwards.

“I have a comfortable study and one of the grandest libraries in England.”

“You could have one of those anywhere, and you know the books are yours. You can take them with you.”

“I have someone with whom I can always be assured of stimulating conversation.”

“Shouts and sarcasm, more like,” Harry said ruefully.

Severus sighed in frustration. Would Harry never realize that he had no more desire to leave this house than to cut off his own right hand and then soak the wound in vinegar? He stood and walked over to Harry until their faces were only inches apart.

“I have a handsome young man who treats me like a prince, who does everything in his power to ensure that I am content, that I am safe, and that I am never alone. I have –”

Severus’s voice caught in his throat. All rational thought flew from his mind. He no longer knew what he had or why he was so determined to know that Harry knew he had it. It all seemed irrelevant with this beautiful face, this soft beautiful face with emerald eyes and rosy lips that parted with the slightest touch of his thumb, this body that was trembling as much as his own as he leaned closer and closer. And then his lips were on Harry’s, and he knew that he had to kiss them with as much reverence and love as he felt, or else this magnificent being might vanish in the mist like a ghost (or a phantom).

Harry’s lips did not move against his. Fearful that he had misread the signs, that he had just fallen victim to another cruel prank, that he had destroyed his only illusion of companionship, Severus started to pull away. He only had a few more hours of confinement; he could lock himself inside his bedroom and flee immediately at midnight without ever having to see this Harry Potter ever again. If only he could be sure that he would never see the phantom’s green eyes again, for the torment would be far too much to bear.

But Harry’s hands were on his face, pulling him down until he had no choice but to kiss those lips again. And this time Harry was kissing back, their lips moving together as if in some perfectly choreographed ballet. It was exquisite, it was heaven, it was better than anything ever thought he would experience in this lifetime.

When they parted for air, Severus took note of Harry’s new expression. Hair even more tousled than usual, plump lips, and pink cheeks – thoroughly kissed was certainly Harry’s best look yet.

“Perhaps,” Severus said, surprised by the huskiness of his voice. “Your suggestion of spending the day in bed has some merit.”

Harry smiled. “It is your birthday.”

Severus took Harry’s hands in his. They stood together, neither moving, for quite some time. Severus found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from the pair of green eyes gazing lovingly at him.