Disclaimer: Same old story. I don't own anything, I don't own anyone.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to keep putting this thing at the
beginning. But then, if it keeps me safe from lawsuits.
Author's Note: So this chapter took me awhile. It's bloody long (for me).
Minerva McGonagall sighed heavily. She didn't know why she kept doing this. What good did it do? None, it only brought back painful memories. Painful, even though the memories themselves were joyous, because she wasn't allowed to share them.
But it had become a tradition, one that she couldn't break. No, not even if she wanted to. If she did, it would be like agreeing to pretend that the wonderful little child never existed.
Pretending that she never held him, a newborn baby, only two days old. Imagining that she had never heard him referring to her as the 'Kitty Lady.' Never seen his clear blue eyes sparkle with laughter while his father watched over him, so proud and full of love.
She owed it both of them to remember that. Even if everyone else decided to forget, she would remember that he had loved him, loved him more then life itself.
"Thank you, Hagrid." The sweet voice brought McGonagall back to the present and, shaking herself, she turned her attention back to the memory she was watching in her Pensive.
The entire Hogwarts staff was sitting around a big table covered in brightly wrapped packages. A birthday party. No one had been required to come; they had wanted to be there.
Sitting in the center of the laughter and controlled chaos, next to his father, was the child, grinning happily at the Grounds Keeper with a beautiful leather bound book of collected Fairy Tales in front of him.
"Nothin' too good for our Severus," Hagrid chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the dark auburn hair that tumbled past the child's ears. "Happy Birthday." Severus giggled and pushed the big hand off as he repeated his thanks.
McGonagall's attention shifted as she watched as her younger self pushed a present towards the boy, her cheeks flushed a light pink in happiness.
"This is from me, dear." McGonagall watched as Severus opened the package to find a soft, plush bear with a red and white stripped ribbon tied around its neck. Severus looked it over from every angle, pet the fuzzy fur, and hugged it, much to the amusement of the other teachers.
"I'll call him Spot," he announced, quite pleased with the bear.
"Why Spot?" asked one of the staff members, deciding not to point out that the bear was one solid color of chocolate brown. Severus looked quizzically at the teacher.
"He looks like a Spot," the boy answered matter-a-factually, earning another round of laughs from the adults. He turned a charming smile back to the Transfiguration Professor.
"Thank you, 'Nerva." McGonagall sniffed back tears as she heard herself reply, "You're most welcome, Severus."
McGonagall watched the party continue. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time. Cake was served along with seven different flavors of ice cream. Severus insisted on trying each and discovered that he didn't care for three of them. He was just getting a little overwhelmed by the party and noise when Dumbledore stood up, smiling secretively. The chatter ceased instantly.
"I have one more gift for Severus," Dumbledore began, "It was given to me by my father who had received it from his father and it was meant for me to pass onto my own child." He rested one hand gently on his son's shoulder. Severus tilted his head back to see his father's face. Dumbledore smiled and continued.
"He's three years old today. Old enough not to know that certain things are not to be swallowed." The staff laughed again as Severus grinned sheepishly, remembering what had happened earlier that week.
"Looked like candy," the boy protested in his defense with a small pout.
"Yes," his father agreed, "But it took us four hours to get you down from the ceiling." He leaned forward, wrapping one arm around the little boy and kissed his soft cheek.
"Happy Birthday, Severus." As he said this, Dumbledore placed a small box in front of the boy. Severus set to work and pried it open his fingers.
Dumbledore reached around him and brought the gift out of its case. A low murmur traveled through the adults seated at the table.
It was a chain made of a fine, magical silver; as thin and delicate looking as a strand of spider silk but stronger then steal. And dangling in the center was a tiny little charm. Severus starred at it in wonder; hesitantly reaching out to touch the hanging charm as it gleamed when the light caught it from different angles.
"Our family name means 'bumblebee,'" Dumbledore explained to Severus as he moved the ends of the chain behind the boy's neck and fastened the clasp under his hair.
"Whenever you wear this, let it remind you who you are and where you come from. Family is forever, Severus. Nothing can ever change that. You are my son, Severus, and I love you so much." Severus held the little sliver bumblebee charm on his palm for a minute and then turned and launched himself into his father's arms.
"Love you," the child whispered, holding on tightly. Dumbledore smiled and hugged him close while gently stroking the silky hair.
"Oh Severus," Dumbledore chuckled softly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
McGonagall quelled a sob rising in her throat and turned away sharply; she couldn't watch them together. In all the world, they had only needed each other. They had been practically inseparable.
Even more so after Sabra left. Dumbledore, who before their separation had returned to his wife and son every evening after dinner, decided that he didn't want his son to be raised by House Elves and brought him to the school to be with him.
Spending every weekday at the school excepting holidays, Hogwarts had become a second home for the boy.
There had been a little concern over having Severus live at Hogwarts, but the staff had taken instantly to the blue eyed child who looked shyly out at them from his father's arms; even Filch's gruffness softened when the boy smiled.
Severus had been a joy, a blessing. And Dumbledore was never as happy as he was when Severus was with him.
But then, everything changed when Severus died. As horrible as the shock was when they got the news in an emergency meeting, the Headmaster himself disappeared for a month without out a trace not leaving so much as a letter telling when he'd be back.
Then one morning, he just showed up at the Head Table for breakfast. He greeted the shocked staff cheerfully, asking who had won the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor Quidditch match while he had been away.
He seemed almost normal, chatting with them like nothing had happened. If only his eyes didn't sparkle so bright or his laughter ring so loud.
McGonagall remembered her first thought when she saw him sitting there, overly happy, had been 'is he mad?' To this day, the question still lurked in the back of her mind.
Severus wasn't discussed. No one told him they were sorry for his terrible loss. They had been warned by the Minister himself not to mention Severus to the Headmaster and the topic seemed so taboo that they didn't bring it up even among themselves. Just in case they should slip on accident.
They had been very careful, but there had been an incident nearly a month after Dumbledore had returned. McGonagall remembered it very well; it was her fault.
The Headmaster had come to the Transfiguration classroom to discuss a student who was having trouble changing animals into objects. They were talking over ways to help the student and everything was fine.
That is, it was until he saw the picture that she always kept on her desk. It was a picture of Severus taken only five months earlier. He was laying on the floor, a very young Mrs. Norris on top of his head, looking up at the camera, and grinning. McGonagall couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. She still had it, hidden away where no one would find it.
But it wasn't hidden that day and when Dumbledore saw it he suddenly became deadly silent.
McGonagall realized, with a feeling of deep horror, what he was looking at and quickly reached over to grab the picture and shove it into a drawer.
Dumbledore shook off the spell that the picture of his only child had cast and stood angrily. McGonagall found herself on the receiving end of a truly terrifying glare and found herself a little afraid of him; she had never seen him so full of bitterness.
"If I ever see pictures of him again," Dumbledore hissed, startling McGonagall with his barely concealed rage, "I will do everything in my power to see that the holder is fired!" He turned on his heal and stormed out of the room leaving McGonagall stunned in disbelief.
Then, after allowing herself a few tears over realizing just how much her friend was suffering, she had hurried off to tell the rest of the teachers the warning she had received.
After that things calmed down for awhile. Life went on and the staff had just about healed the hole the loss of such an innocent life had left.
And then the other Severus entered their lives.
McGonagall frowned, remembering the look of delighted surprise that lit the Headmaster's face when a child with the name 'Severus' had been called at the sorting.
Sorted into Slytherin, the staff had formed an instant dislike to the boy. Except Filch. Filch had no problem with accepting Severus Snape.
The worst was Dumbledore. He became instantly attached to Snape. It was as though he couldn't see the difference between the son he lost and the young Slytherin with the same name.
It was harder on the staff then the Headmaster, having another Severus around. It had taken McGonagall herself many years to accept that Snape was his own person. He wasn't trying to replace their Severus; he couldn't help having his name, he hadn't chosen it.
Still, for the longest time she had resented the fact that his very name reminded her of the one who had been lost. It had only been time that forced her to forgive him for something he couldn't control.
Yet, there had been two children with the same name. Why did it have to be the so one full of light and goodness that died? Why couldn't it have been the dark, wretched, cold Slytherin boy?
Then McGonagall shook her head sharply. That wasn't the right way to think. Being in Slytherin did not make one evil. And Snape had tried (and was still trying) very hard to make up for the mistakes of his past.
Nevertheless, wouldn't the Dumbledore child have made more of his life then Snape had?
***
Dumbledore reached the door to the Potion Master's quarters and let himself in. A quick glance around the room revealed Snape stretched out on the couch, reading.
"You're late," Snape said in greeting, not looking up from his book. Dumbledore checked his watch and then the clock on the table. That was odd. He checked his watch again and the looked back over at Snape, who was still ignoring him.
"I'm not late," he countered, coming around the couch and pushing Snape's feet off so that he could sit down. "Your clock is fast." Snape now turned from the book to look at his father, his eyes glittering mischievously.
"So are all the clocks in the Slytherin dorms. How else do you expect me to get them to class on time?" He had put up with their tardiness for three years before he had come up with that solution. As a result, fewer Slytherins got points taken off for being late to other Professors' classes. Most of the students figured that the clocks were wrong by their Third Year, but they still followed that time instead of the normal school schedule.
Dumbledore laughed and reached over to tug affectionately at the dark hair. Clever, very clever. He never would have guessed why the Slytherins had the lowest number of late students to class ten years running.
"Minerva might say that you're cheating," he warned teasingly. Snape shook his head and sat up, sneering.
"It's only cheating if I make the clocks in the Gyffindor tower run slow." Dumbledore chuckled and gave his son a sideways hug.
"How about I call down tea?" Dumbledore asked, releasing Snape. The Potions Master nodded.
"That would be nice," he agreed as he reached for a bookmark. Curious, Dumbledore plucked the book about of his hands and turned it over to see the title.
"A Tale of Two Cities," he read aloud. He had read it himself years ago. "A good book." Snape nodded and got up to return it to the bookshelf.
"I like it," he agreed. Dumbledore smiled and got up to call the House Elves. They responded quickly and in no time the tea tray appeared. Dumbledore fixed two cups of tea while Snape wandered back to the couch. He accepted the offered cup with a smile and took a sip. Green tea with a little honey.
They sat easily silent for awhile, just enjoying each other's presence. Snape recalled that there was a reason for their meeting but was content to wait until it was brought up. Dumbledore added a little more tea to each cup and leaned back, a small smile lighting his face.
"Today is February 5th," he stated obviously. Snape nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. He never knew what to expect from the Headmaster.
"So it is," he agreed cautiously.
"Does it mean anything to you?" Dumbledore asked in unpressing tones. Snape thought carefully, digging through his mind. Something flashed briefly but then was gone as suddenly as it came. He reached for it again but it slipped away, avoiding capture. Finally he sighed and shook his head.
"I know it's important, I just can't remember why." The memory was associated with light and happiness; not uncommon feelings to his early childhood. He gave his father a small smile. He wished he could remember. "Must mean I'm getting old if I'm having lapses in memory." Dumbledore's smile grew wider.
"You're younger then you think, child." Snape starred at him a few seconds, pondering what he made meant by that statement. Then he understood. He had just needed a clue.
"I wasn't born in November, was I?" he asked softly, not really a question. Dumbledore shook his head and pulled Snape closer to him. He hadn't given the woman at the orphanage the correct day his son had been born. It was safer that way. But there was no harm in Severus knowing the truth now.
"February 5th, three twenty one in the morning. And six days early. Impatient, as usual. But oh," his voice dropped to a soft whisper, "What a scare you gave us." Snape leaned against him and Dumbledore put a grateful arm around him.
"What happened?" Snape asked subduedly. He had never heard about his birth. And it didn't sound as though it had been an easy one.
"You weren't breathing," Dumbledore replied solemnly, not liking to recall this particular memory. Next to that terrible night he had given his son away to protect his life, it was the most fearful he had ever been. "They took you and began trying to save your life. They wouldn't tell me what was wrong. And they wouldn't answer any of my questions. They wouldn't even tell me if my baby was a boy or girl. For a few terrible moments, I thought that you were going to die before I even got to meet you. And then," he paused.
"Then?" Snape urged, interested in the story. Dumbledore smiled at the child-like eagerness.
"And then you began to cry. Scream, really. I have never been so relieved to hear such a noise." Snape smirked, but not unkindly. "They cleaned you up and gave you to me. You were fussing terribly. But I can honestly say," he pulled back slightly to see Snape's face, "That you, wrapped up in that blanket, squirming, and red, you were the most beautiful, the most amazing thing I have ever had the privilege to see. My beautiful little child." Snape blushed slightly and turned away, almost shyly. Dumbledore coaxed his eyes back and held a up glittering chain.
"Do you remember this?" His voice was soft and warm. Snape's eyes widened in surprise. Words echoed in his memory and he remembered the significance.
"You can't give that to me," he whispered, his eyes never leaving the dangling charm. Some part of him that wouldn't resign to being silent still didn't believe he deserved to be called the only child of the great Albus Dumbledore. But Dumbledore knew this and pressed on confidently without hesitation.
"I'm not giving it to you," Dumbledore replied calmly as he fastened the clasp around the Potion Master's neck and let the charm drop to rest against his chest. "I'm returning it to you." Snape cradled the silver bumblebee charm on his palm like a precious treasure.
"I don't know what to say," he murmured as he lifted his eyes, soft with gratitude. Dumbledore smiled kindly and hugged him close; his treasure. Snape closed his eyes and rested his head against the comforting shoulder.
"You don't need to say anything," Dumbledore replied softly. "Just be careful. There are still people who would recognize that charm for what it is." Snape didn't even pretend to look offended. He knew how very serious it was that no one see the chain once again hanging around his neck. He had a family again; he wasn't about to jeopardize it.
"I'll be careful. I promise."
Author's Note: Who here can tell that I love irony? Next up: The Dream Team does some investigating and Black is on surveillance.
Minerva McGonagall sighed heavily. She didn't know why she kept doing this. What good did it do? None, it only brought back painful memories. Painful, even though the memories themselves were joyous, because she wasn't allowed to share them.
But it had become a tradition, one that she couldn't break. No, not even if she wanted to. If she did, it would be like agreeing to pretend that the wonderful little child never existed.
Pretending that she never held him, a newborn baby, only two days old. Imagining that she had never heard him referring to her as the 'Kitty Lady.' Never seen his clear blue eyes sparkle with laughter while his father watched over him, so proud and full of love.
She owed it both of them to remember that. Even if everyone else decided to forget, she would remember that he had loved him, loved him more then life itself.
"Thank you, Hagrid." The sweet voice brought McGonagall back to the present and, shaking herself, she turned her attention back to the memory she was watching in her Pensive.
The entire Hogwarts staff was sitting around a big table covered in brightly wrapped packages. A birthday party. No one had been required to come; they had wanted to be there.
Sitting in the center of the laughter and controlled chaos, next to his father, was the child, grinning happily at the Grounds Keeper with a beautiful leather bound book of collected Fairy Tales in front of him.
"Nothin' too good for our Severus," Hagrid chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the dark auburn hair that tumbled past the child's ears. "Happy Birthday." Severus giggled and pushed the big hand off as he repeated his thanks.
McGonagall's attention shifted as she watched as her younger self pushed a present towards the boy, her cheeks flushed a light pink in happiness.
"This is from me, dear." McGonagall watched as Severus opened the package to find a soft, plush bear with a red and white stripped ribbon tied around its neck. Severus looked it over from every angle, pet the fuzzy fur, and hugged it, much to the amusement of the other teachers.
"I'll call him Spot," he announced, quite pleased with the bear.
"Why Spot?" asked one of the staff members, deciding not to point out that the bear was one solid color of chocolate brown. Severus looked quizzically at the teacher.
"He looks like a Spot," the boy answered matter-a-factually, earning another round of laughs from the adults. He turned a charming smile back to the Transfiguration Professor.
"Thank you, 'Nerva." McGonagall sniffed back tears as she heard herself reply, "You're most welcome, Severus."
McGonagall watched the party continue. Everyone was laughing and having a wonderful time. Cake was served along with seven different flavors of ice cream. Severus insisted on trying each and discovered that he didn't care for three of them. He was just getting a little overwhelmed by the party and noise when Dumbledore stood up, smiling secretively. The chatter ceased instantly.
"I have one more gift for Severus," Dumbledore began, "It was given to me by my father who had received it from his father and it was meant for me to pass onto my own child." He rested one hand gently on his son's shoulder. Severus tilted his head back to see his father's face. Dumbledore smiled and continued.
"He's three years old today. Old enough not to know that certain things are not to be swallowed." The staff laughed again as Severus grinned sheepishly, remembering what had happened earlier that week.
"Looked like candy," the boy protested in his defense with a small pout.
"Yes," his father agreed, "But it took us four hours to get you down from the ceiling." He leaned forward, wrapping one arm around the little boy and kissed his soft cheek.
"Happy Birthday, Severus." As he said this, Dumbledore placed a small box in front of the boy. Severus set to work and pried it open his fingers.
Dumbledore reached around him and brought the gift out of its case. A low murmur traveled through the adults seated at the table.
It was a chain made of a fine, magical silver; as thin and delicate looking as a strand of spider silk but stronger then steal. And dangling in the center was a tiny little charm. Severus starred at it in wonder; hesitantly reaching out to touch the hanging charm as it gleamed when the light caught it from different angles.
"Our family name means 'bumblebee,'" Dumbledore explained to Severus as he moved the ends of the chain behind the boy's neck and fastened the clasp under his hair.
"Whenever you wear this, let it remind you who you are and where you come from. Family is forever, Severus. Nothing can ever change that. You are my son, Severus, and I love you so much." Severus held the little sliver bumblebee charm on his palm for a minute and then turned and launched himself into his father's arms.
"Love you," the child whispered, holding on tightly. Dumbledore smiled and hugged him close while gently stroking the silky hair.
"Oh Severus," Dumbledore chuckled softly, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
McGonagall quelled a sob rising in her throat and turned away sharply; she couldn't watch them together. In all the world, they had only needed each other. They had been practically inseparable.
Even more so after Sabra left. Dumbledore, who before their separation had returned to his wife and son every evening after dinner, decided that he didn't want his son to be raised by House Elves and brought him to the school to be with him.
Spending every weekday at the school excepting holidays, Hogwarts had become a second home for the boy.
There had been a little concern over having Severus live at Hogwarts, but the staff had taken instantly to the blue eyed child who looked shyly out at them from his father's arms; even Filch's gruffness softened when the boy smiled.
Severus had been a joy, a blessing. And Dumbledore was never as happy as he was when Severus was with him.
But then, everything changed when Severus died. As horrible as the shock was when they got the news in an emergency meeting, the Headmaster himself disappeared for a month without out a trace not leaving so much as a letter telling when he'd be back.
Then one morning, he just showed up at the Head Table for breakfast. He greeted the shocked staff cheerfully, asking who had won the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor Quidditch match while he had been away.
He seemed almost normal, chatting with them like nothing had happened. If only his eyes didn't sparkle so bright or his laughter ring so loud.
McGonagall remembered her first thought when she saw him sitting there, overly happy, had been 'is he mad?' To this day, the question still lurked in the back of her mind.
Severus wasn't discussed. No one told him they were sorry for his terrible loss. They had been warned by the Minister himself not to mention Severus to the Headmaster and the topic seemed so taboo that they didn't bring it up even among themselves. Just in case they should slip on accident.
They had been very careful, but there had been an incident nearly a month after Dumbledore had returned. McGonagall remembered it very well; it was her fault.
The Headmaster had come to the Transfiguration classroom to discuss a student who was having trouble changing animals into objects. They were talking over ways to help the student and everything was fine.
That is, it was until he saw the picture that she always kept on her desk. It was a picture of Severus taken only five months earlier. He was laying on the floor, a very young Mrs. Norris on top of his head, looking up at the camera, and grinning. McGonagall couldn't bring herself to get rid of it. She still had it, hidden away where no one would find it.
But it wasn't hidden that day and when Dumbledore saw it he suddenly became deadly silent.
McGonagall realized, with a feeling of deep horror, what he was looking at and quickly reached over to grab the picture and shove it into a drawer.
Dumbledore shook off the spell that the picture of his only child had cast and stood angrily. McGonagall found herself on the receiving end of a truly terrifying glare and found herself a little afraid of him; she had never seen him so full of bitterness.
"If I ever see pictures of him again," Dumbledore hissed, startling McGonagall with his barely concealed rage, "I will do everything in my power to see that the holder is fired!" He turned on his heal and stormed out of the room leaving McGonagall stunned in disbelief.
Then, after allowing herself a few tears over realizing just how much her friend was suffering, she had hurried off to tell the rest of the teachers the warning she had received.
After that things calmed down for awhile. Life went on and the staff had just about healed the hole the loss of such an innocent life had left.
And then the other Severus entered their lives.
McGonagall frowned, remembering the look of delighted surprise that lit the Headmaster's face when a child with the name 'Severus' had been called at the sorting.
Sorted into Slytherin, the staff had formed an instant dislike to the boy. Except Filch. Filch had no problem with accepting Severus Snape.
The worst was Dumbledore. He became instantly attached to Snape. It was as though he couldn't see the difference between the son he lost and the young Slytherin with the same name.
It was harder on the staff then the Headmaster, having another Severus around. It had taken McGonagall herself many years to accept that Snape was his own person. He wasn't trying to replace their Severus; he couldn't help having his name, he hadn't chosen it.
Still, for the longest time she had resented the fact that his very name reminded her of the one who had been lost. It had only been time that forced her to forgive him for something he couldn't control.
Yet, there had been two children with the same name. Why did it have to be the so one full of light and goodness that died? Why couldn't it have been the dark, wretched, cold Slytherin boy?
Then McGonagall shook her head sharply. That wasn't the right way to think. Being in Slytherin did not make one evil. And Snape had tried (and was still trying) very hard to make up for the mistakes of his past.
Nevertheless, wouldn't the Dumbledore child have made more of his life then Snape had?
***
Dumbledore reached the door to the Potion Master's quarters and let himself in. A quick glance around the room revealed Snape stretched out on the couch, reading.
"You're late," Snape said in greeting, not looking up from his book. Dumbledore checked his watch and then the clock on the table. That was odd. He checked his watch again and the looked back over at Snape, who was still ignoring him.
"I'm not late," he countered, coming around the couch and pushing Snape's feet off so that he could sit down. "Your clock is fast." Snape now turned from the book to look at his father, his eyes glittering mischievously.
"So are all the clocks in the Slytherin dorms. How else do you expect me to get them to class on time?" He had put up with their tardiness for three years before he had come up with that solution. As a result, fewer Slytherins got points taken off for being late to other Professors' classes. Most of the students figured that the clocks were wrong by their Third Year, but they still followed that time instead of the normal school schedule.
Dumbledore laughed and reached over to tug affectionately at the dark hair. Clever, very clever. He never would have guessed why the Slytherins had the lowest number of late students to class ten years running.
"Minerva might say that you're cheating," he warned teasingly. Snape shook his head and sat up, sneering.
"It's only cheating if I make the clocks in the Gyffindor tower run slow." Dumbledore chuckled and gave his son a sideways hug.
"How about I call down tea?" Dumbledore asked, releasing Snape. The Potions Master nodded.
"That would be nice," he agreed as he reached for a bookmark. Curious, Dumbledore plucked the book about of his hands and turned it over to see the title.
"A Tale of Two Cities," he read aloud. He had read it himself years ago. "A good book." Snape nodded and got up to return it to the bookshelf.
"I like it," he agreed. Dumbledore smiled and got up to call the House Elves. They responded quickly and in no time the tea tray appeared. Dumbledore fixed two cups of tea while Snape wandered back to the couch. He accepted the offered cup with a smile and took a sip. Green tea with a little honey.
They sat easily silent for awhile, just enjoying each other's presence. Snape recalled that there was a reason for their meeting but was content to wait until it was brought up. Dumbledore added a little more tea to each cup and leaned back, a small smile lighting his face.
"Today is February 5th," he stated obviously. Snape nodded, unsure where the conversation was going. He never knew what to expect from the Headmaster.
"So it is," he agreed cautiously.
"Does it mean anything to you?" Dumbledore asked in unpressing tones. Snape thought carefully, digging through his mind. Something flashed briefly but then was gone as suddenly as it came. He reached for it again but it slipped away, avoiding capture. Finally he sighed and shook his head.
"I know it's important, I just can't remember why." The memory was associated with light and happiness; not uncommon feelings to his early childhood. He gave his father a small smile. He wished he could remember. "Must mean I'm getting old if I'm having lapses in memory." Dumbledore's smile grew wider.
"You're younger then you think, child." Snape starred at him a few seconds, pondering what he made meant by that statement. Then he understood. He had just needed a clue.
"I wasn't born in November, was I?" he asked softly, not really a question. Dumbledore shook his head and pulled Snape closer to him. He hadn't given the woman at the orphanage the correct day his son had been born. It was safer that way. But there was no harm in Severus knowing the truth now.
"February 5th, three twenty one in the morning. And six days early. Impatient, as usual. But oh," his voice dropped to a soft whisper, "What a scare you gave us." Snape leaned against him and Dumbledore put a grateful arm around him.
"What happened?" Snape asked subduedly. He had never heard about his birth. And it didn't sound as though it had been an easy one.
"You weren't breathing," Dumbledore replied solemnly, not liking to recall this particular memory. Next to that terrible night he had given his son away to protect his life, it was the most fearful he had ever been. "They took you and began trying to save your life. They wouldn't tell me what was wrong. And they wouldn't answer any of my questions. They wouldn't even tell me if my baby was a boy or girl. For a few terrible moments, I thought that you were going to die before I even got to meet you. And then," he paused.
"Then?" Snape urged, interested in the story. Dumbledore smiled at the child-like eagerness.
"And then you began to cry. Scream, really. I have never been so relieved to hear such a noise." Snape smirked, but not unkindly. "They cleaned you up and gave you to me. You were fussing terribly. But I can honestly say," he pulled back slightly to see Snape's face, "That you, wrapped up in that blanket, squirming, and red, you were the most beautiful, the most amazing thing I have ever had the privilege to see. My beautiful little child." Snape blushed slightly and turned away, almost shyly. Dumbledore coaxed his eyes back and held a up glittering chain.
"Do you remember this?" His voice was soft and warm. Snape's eyes widened in surprise. Words echoed in his memory and he remembered the significance.
"You can't give that to me," he whispered, his eyes never leaving the dangling charm. Some part of him that wouldn't resign to being silent still didn't believe he deserved to be called the only child of the great Albus Dumbledore. But Dumbledore knew this and pressed on confidently without hesitation.
"I'm not giving it to you," Dumbledore replied calmly as he fastened the clasp around the Potion Master's neck and let the charm drop to rest against his chest. "I'm returning it to you." Snape cradled the silver bumblebee charm on his palm like a precious treasure.
"I don't know what to say," he murmured as he lifted his eyes, soft with gratitude. Dumbledore smiled kindly and hugged him close; his treasure. Snape closed his eyes and rested his head against the comforting shoulder.
"You don't need to say anything," Dumbledore replied softly. "Just be careful. There are still people who would recognize that charm for what it is." Snape didn't even pretend to look offended. He knew how very serious it was that no one see the chain once again hanging around his neck. He had a family again; he wasn't about to jeopardize it.
"I'll be careful. I promise."
Author's Note: Who here can tell that I love irony? Next up: The Dream Team does some investigating and Black is on surveillance.