Author's Notes: Inspiration for this: I was looking at Snape fanart and glanced away to help my tired eyes. There was indeed a shadow by one of the tiles on the ceiling, so I (though considerably taller than a ten year old boy) also climbed up on the metal side of the bed and just had to poke it to see if it was really detached. I actually performed all of that climbing while writing this, so it is as accurate as possible. However, I can happily say that my biggest worry was my weight and I did not fall out my third story window. Also influenced by the OotP memory in which he shoots down flies from the ceiling, and Neville's discovery of his magic.
He pulled his head away from his textbook, blinking his tired eyes. He looked diagonally across his room, looking up at the white ceiling for a few seconds in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He was about to go back to his reading when he glanced up again on a whim. There was a strange shadow around one of the tiles. It seemed to be falling off.
It was a single tile in the corner of the ceiling, right above the only window in the small room. A heater took up all the space between the window ledge and his bed. Making up his mind, Severus placed his book on the simple wooden desk behind him and got up from his chair, keeping his dark gaze on the strange tile.
It was definitely not just his imagination, and he really wanted to get closer and touch it, just to make sure it wasn't just some strange trick of the bright morning light. He glanced over at his bed. The headboard was really high: his mother's idea of making sure that he wasn't too exposed to the draft from the window. It was much less steady than the heater, and it would be much harder to balance on, but it had the crucial height.
Biting the inside of his mouth, Severus walked across his simple room, padding along the wooden floor barefooted. He climbed onto his bed, standing on his pillow for a bit of extra height. Bracing his left arm against the wall, he placed his right foot carefully on the headboard. He was rather awkwardly stretched so, taking a deep breath, he brought up his left foot, grabbing with his right hand for the top frame of the window.
After a bit of fidgeting and repositioning, his left arm was braced more comfortably against the wall and his feet were slightly steadier. He closed his eyes for just a moment, not allowing the fear to overtake him. When he opened his eyes, he returned his gaze toward the tile in question. A small smile slid on his face. The title was indeed partially detached. The layer of paint over the ceiling was slightly cracked in between some of the tiles. Here, whatever was holding the tiles to the ceiling had weakened and the paint had not helped.
Seeing was not enough anymore. Severus brought his left hand up swiftly to join his right on the window frame. Then, he reached out, the tips of his long fingers just barely managing to brush the tile. His smile momentarily turned into a frown as he tried to think how he might be able to get up higher. With some hesitation, he shifted his weight to his left leg and pulled his right foot backwards so that his toes were centered on the headboard. He quickly pulled up his heel and rebalanced on his right leg. His equilibrium regained, he repeated the process with his left leg.
Now he was tall enough to touch the tile properly. The smile returned as his gnawed fingernails brushed against the detached edge of the tile. He could not see well underneath the tile, and his nails only brought back some dust. He dared not pull it down. Instead, he pushed up lightly. The tile resisted the pressure like a strange sort of sponge, giving way slightly and only momentarily.
"Boy!" At the sound of his father's angry voice, Severus lost his weak grip on the window frame, falling forward at an alarming rate. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the impact with glass that never came. But he kept falling, hitting damp grass nose first. The window had disappeared, and the impact had been greatly lessened, as if by magic.
His mother stayed by his side through the day, nursing his broken nose after his father adamantly refused to allow him to get medical help for what he claimed was the boy's stupidity. His mother had simply stroked his hair, smiling and praising his curiosity. That was the day that ten year old Severus learned about magic and his Prince heritage. It was also the first time that Tobias shouted at his wife.