Story Title: The Number One Rule to Remember (When Making a Wish)
Rated: G because nothing really happens beyond the angst angst angst
Status: Complete // 4x100
Summary: [Severus/Harry] Harry keeps with tradition.
Steve's Notes: Written for the snarry100 community. Prompt 196: Fifty. (The reasoning behind this was that this week saw Severus' 50th birthday. Keep that in mind and my story might make sense for the prompt.)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling
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He tells his three young children one of the many stories of Beedle the Bard, checks for monsters in their closets and underneath their beds, and tucks them in with kisses and unconditional love. He changes into Muggle sweats, wool socks, and his newest Weasley sweater, then brushes his teeth and scrubs his face. His wife is drowsy-eyed, almost asleep, and tangled in the cotton sheets when he reaches out and tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear. "I'm not tired," he tells her honestly, and she yawns in understanding. "Go to sleep; I'll be up later."
--
Downstairs, he pulls the small cake from its magically concealed hiding spot. It looks delicious, as it does every year; the creamy white frosting is spread expertly over the rich chocolate layers and a parade of fresh, pitted, dark red cherries circle the bottom. He carefully picks the plate off the counter, rummages for a fork in the drawer, sets both on the table, and then pours a glass of ice cold milk. An absent flick of his wand extinguishes the yellow light illuminating the kitchen while another sparks the lone candle in the center of the cake to life.
--
"You're supposed to make a wish," he tells the tiny flame. It burns steadily and pretends to ignore him. "It's a birthday wish, you know. That means you can have anything you want. Anything."
In the quiet, still house, as the wax beads and rolls like tears down the length of the candle, as he waits alone for midnight, the flame maintains its soft silence.
"Do you know what I wish for, every year?" he asks and the flame flickers in idle curiosity. "It's silly, really."
He pauses. The flame waits patiently.
Then, with shy, desperate hopelessness he whispers, "You."
--
The flame shudders underneath his breath as though it cannot bear the weight of his deepest, darkest, most hidden secret. He nearly laughs at its weakness, but settles for keeping it company until the clock chimes midnight.
"Happy Birthday," he tells the flame before he blows it out. The smoke stings his nose and curls into the air like a nest of snakes. "What did you wish for?"
In the moonlight, the remnants of smoke dissipate and there is no answer.
"That's alright, Severus," Harry tells the emptiness. "Because if you told me, it wouldn't come true—mine never does."
--
end.