Today is Lily's birthday, which is exactly 21 days after mine. I found it out by accident, and I am angry at myself for not thinking to ask, especially because she has been so kind to me, and remembered my birthday after all. Her gift to me was really extraordinary. It has drawn one of the only compliments I've ever received in my life (the other being from Professor Slughorn, who said I was "doing well" and the third being a comment from a complete stranger who said to her companion, "that boy, for instance, he could be something if he tried, and if he would just change his outlook..." - I've pondered that a lot. It is not really a compliment I suppose, but I am very interested in what changing my outlook could possibly do for me. Anyhow - I digress). My wand has also has elicited some teasing, the nature of which I will not record, as it is rather vulgar I suspect - similar to the way that I would suspect a word when father used it and it could not be traced by it's Latin origins or when it was it did not make sense - and though the Marauders seem to think it hilarious (imbeciles) for they can't stop talking about it, one person, a younger fellow by the name of Crouch, told me:
"That's a right elegant wand." And as a result I wasn't at all gloomy for the rest of the day, but I tried not to show it overly much.
But I was speaking of Lily's birthday. I very much wanted to get her a proper present, a wonderful present like she had gotten me, and not only to reciprocate her kindness, but because she means more to me than I can likely ever say, and she deserves something wonderful. The things troubling my good intentions were initially, that I had no money, subsequently, that I had no ideas, and finally, that I had no time. I only found out that her birthday was today, yesterday (if that makes sense).
It was like this. She was standing just on the other side of the doors to the Great Hall after the noon meal, waiting for me to come out with the other Slytherins, so that she could say hello, I suppose. I saw her, and altered my course so that I would be heading in her direction.
"Afternoon, Lily," I told her, hoping that no one was watching us.
"Hello, Severus," she told me. "I just wanted to say hello."
"Hello," I replied. I am so stupid when it comes to conversation sometimes. I could lecture, I am fairly sure of it, but I cannot master the back and forth that makes up social interactions. It is tedious, and I would rather do all the talking, about something which interests me, or listen, merely pretending to hear of things that interest another. It is the in-between that is awful. I am alright with Lily, but she is exceedingly patient. I would not have anyone know the things I write in this journal for all the world.
"I was half expecting my owl today," she said, tossing her head in the way that she has a habit of doing. "I've told Mum and Dad that if there's ever anything anyone means to say to you to send it by my owl - I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," I said, rather touched, actually, that she would think of me in such a way. Not that there is anyone I'd care to communicate with, or who would care to communicate with me, but still. She continued, but I don't think it was meant to be of great import:
"Mum almost always sends me a letter for my birthday, but I suppose there's still tomorrow."
"Your birthday's tomorrow?"
She nodded. "Sixteen, like you. How is it?" She seemed very interested in pondering the changes that come with another year of life, but I was preoccupied with the fact that her birthday had come to my attention. But I told her, "It's not so very different from fifteen. Life changes so gradually that I think we will only be able to detect the stratification of our years in retrospect."
She laughed, and said, "You have such a fascinating view of life, Severus. Or at least a very fascinating way of expressing it."
And then the professors were ushering us onward to our next period, and so we gave each other a farewell look rather than a verbal goodbye and I proceeded to completely tune out the next few courses, pondering what on earth I could give to Lily for her birthday.
I thought of everything that money can buy, of things a girl might like, and finally, more realistically, something that I owned, because that was the only possibility at such short notice. A strange idea came into my mind, and though part of me thought it rather insufficient, I had no better idea present itself, and so I was resolved.
I have been practicing apparating, and it is dangerous, because an amateur can end up at any unfortunate place or be splinched in the act, but I have managed to detect the extent of the protective spells around the school, and after a nice long walk, can be beyond their reaches. I have apparated a few times successfully to Spinner's End, and back. I am not licensed to travel in such a way, and as I have not even applied for the test (I believe you must be over 17) this is a great secret. Reasonable restrictions have been explained, but I feel I have sufficient mental power to avoid injury or mishap.
The moment that my courses were finished for the day, I took off walking toward the Forbidden Forest. It was just my luck that Potter and Sirius Black, accompanied by Pettigrew (Lupin was nowhere to be seen, he disappears for unexplained illnesses) should see me.
"Snape!" Potter called. "What's your hurry?"
"It's none of your business," I replied, but no matter how quickly I walked, they seemed right in stride with me.
"It wouldn't happen to be against the rules, would it? Wherever you're going?" Pettigrew asked.
"I said it's not your business," I repeated with as much venom as I could muster.
"'It's not our business,' Greasy says," Potter sneered. "Have you combed your hair today?"
"I'll never understand why you're so determined to undermine my character by pointing out my physical appearance," I snapped. "Looks aren't everything."
"He means that his brains are where his stock lies. Let's have a look," Black said, aiming a book at my head. He grimaced when I ducked. "We were going to crack it open and have a look! Just a peek!" he complained.
I stopped walking, and pointed back along the path whence we came. "Go," I said.
Potter crossed his arms. "Why?"
"You're not wanted here."
"He's got a secret admirer he's going to see in the woods," Black explained to the others. "It's a female troll, no one else would have him with a face like that!"
"Love at last, eh, Snape?" Pettigrew chimed in. "And we all thought it was going to be Evans."
"Shut up," Potter snapped. "Don't bring her into this."
"It's none of her business," Black said in a sugary voice.
I was beginning to feel a bit faint, and the flickering lights around the periphery of my vision that always accompany an oncoming rage were beginning to flash like warning beacons.
"Just let me be," I found myself growling. "Because if you don't you'll be sorry. I've got an errand. That's all."
"An errand!" Potter clapped his hands childishly. "Can we come?"
Pettigrew and Black seemed to find this enormously funny.
"No, you can't," I replied, my face feeling stiff and frozen from masking the anger I felt. "Leave, or you'll regret it."
"Listen to the professor," Black said, his eyes wide. "Trying to frighten us, isn't he, James?"
"Let Snivellus alone," Potter said at last, turning away, growing tired of baiting a boar that won't fight. "We've got better things to do with our time."
The moment they turned their backs I apparated, beyond caring if they knew my ability. I was a little breathless when my eyes focused at Spinner's End and I ran up the banks of the river toward my tree. Luckily no one was about - I would have had a sporting time of it explaining my appearance to either of my parents, or anyone else for that matter - and I found what I was looking for in short order. It was a box, which I used to keep hidden beneath the rotting floor of one of the cupboards, but which I relocated to my tree the day that my father started smashing floorboards looking for the money my mother had hidden. It contained no great treasures, but a few things which as a child I had prized.
One of them was a book, the autobiography of Nicolas Flamel, that used to belong to my mother. She had given it to me as a child and it had intrigued me, and I had not brought it with me to school. Another was the pewter handle to a dagger. It had been caught in a tangle of debris by the riverbed one dry summer, and I had salvaged it and polished it as best I might. Lily might fancy that, but I had another idea. The last thing in my box was wrapped in a pillowcase, a shabby piece of cotton wovens that was all that was left of the sheet set that had been converted into curtains which no longer hung in our windows. This sounds ridiculous, but it was something that I had as a very young child and which I had put away as soon as I was old enough to fear my father. It was a toy, a stuffed piglet, sitting upright, and with a crooked snout. It was worn and greying, but it was a prized possession of mine. I never slept with it nor lavished attention on it like some children, but talked to it, looked at it, and occasionally touched it, when I could bring myself to get it out of the box. This was my present to Lily, its value being mainly nostalgic, rather than monetary.
I reappeared behind the gamekeeper's house and quickly made my way up the hill toward school, intending on getting back to my dormitory and seeing if anyone had anything decent lying about or in the bin that I could wrap it in. I located an old front page of the Daily Prophet and wrapped the piglet in that, folding the edges as crisply as I could, and wishing most powerfully that I had some string. I charmed it at last to make it stay closed.
First thing this morning I went to find Lily, before breakfast. There are no rules that say how early students can be about the halls, only how late, so I was not in danger. I arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor without incident, and told the portrait that I did not have the password, but that I wished to see Lily Evans. I was told to wait a moment, and soon the frame opened to reveal Lily, clad in her pyjamas and robe. Her feet were bare, and clean.
"Severus!" she exclaimed, pulling her hair all to one side, as if to disguise its unbrushed state. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"
"Happy birthday," I told her, simply holding out the gift. Her eyes widened, and she stepped out onto the stairs, closing the painting behind her.
"Why... thank you," she stammered. "Should I open it now?"
I nodded, and whispered the counter-charm which made the paper easy for her to remove. She studied the piglet lying upon the page of the Daily Prophet with a quizzical look on her face.
"I...what is it?" she said quietly, looking at me with a suppressed smile.
"It was mine when I was younger. One of my favorite things, and I'm sorry it is not what you deserve, but it meant a great deal to me, as do you, and so I thought it was... fitting." That sounds so dreadful, doesn't it, but that's what I said.
And so then she hugged me, and said. "It's perfect," and gave the grubby thing a kiss on the nose.
"Hide it so no one will tease you," I advised, but she scowled at me.
"Never! I will put it in a place of honor on my side table."
And so that is that. Lily is sixteen now, like I am. I hope that she had a good birthday, for I did not see her all the rest of the day. But she flew me a note in Muggle Studies (in which class she never pays much attention, and rightly so) that said Does he get lonely at nights?
And I sent her one back that said Very, so she might sleep with it after all, though I won't ask her because it would sound silly for a sixteen-year-old to admit such a thing.