Chapter 7- Birthday Boy
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The boy sat in a long-abandoned potting shed in the back garden, reading the book his mother had given him at breakfast. Magical Drafts and Potions should have engrossed utterly, but it did not. He blamed whatever person had inconsiderately left a window open so the shrieking, laughing, and clapping sounds emanating from the house behind him were inflicted upon anyone within hearing.
His Muggle neighbour was having a birthday party.
"Stupid custom," the boy muttered, huddled inside his cloak. The January day was bitterly cold. He had cast a warming charm with the wand borrowed from his mother, but it only raised the temperature to above freezing. He was better with hexes.
Music drifted in. It was a song that had never been sung in the Snape household. The boy scowled at the off-key rendition and told himself he was heartily thankful for that. He imagined children gathered around a boy, waiting for him to blow out a candle on a birthday cake and open presents. His upper lip curled. They would be Muggle ones, inferior to his text, which would give him an advantage over the other students when he went to Hogwarts.
The clamour died down and the boy returned to his studies, unconsciously humming part of the tune he had derided. It was his birthday too.
Severus was ten years old.
-
A soft kiss brought him out of the dream. "Happy Birthday," Eris greeted when Severus opened his eyes. He blinked. Yes, today was January seventh.
"I have to give you nineteen kisses and one to grow on," his partner said with a smile, kissing his cheek before brushing her lips over what seemed like every part of his face.
He enjoyed the affection, even if he believed such fuss unnecessary. The twentieth kiss was pressed to his lips and lingered in such a way that he impulsively rolled Eris onto her back and murmured, "I see a present I wish to open right now."
Knock, Knock, Knock!
His ferocious scowl made Eris giggle. "Best answer it, love. I don't think they're going away."
He rolled off the bed and pulled on pyjama bottoms and a robe, grumbling, "Cannot a man be left in peace on his birthday?" Severus opened his door with a grudging, "Bore da, good morning, Master Ap Meurig."
"Penblwydd Hapus!" said the wizard, beaming at his apprentice.
"Thank you," returned Severus, thinking his birthday happiness would increase tenfold if he was left alone with his partner.
"Croeso i chwi, you're welcome," said Mordred, before turning and calling, "Hurry up with that tray, Gruffydd!"
"Vn gyflym, Vn glflym, quickly, he says, as if my old bones are not performing miracles to move at a steady pace," the retainer complained as he shuffled toward them. He thrust a breakfast tray at Severus with a brusque, "Penblwydd Hapus."
"Diolch."
"Thank me by returning your tray to the kitchen."
Shaking his head at his departing servant, Mordred gestured to the tray. "I ordered an English breakfast for you."
"Gruffydd prepared it?" asked Severus.
"Nage! No, I had him go to the village to get it."
"I appreciate the gesture."
Mordred waved him to silence. "This is nothing. Today, I am taking you to visit an old friend of mine. We depart at noon. Enjoy your breakfast!"
"Sir," the apprentice called.
The master turned. "Yes?"
Severus had to swallow a mix of pride and chagrin to ask, "May I bring my cat?"
The old wizard's eyes twinkled. "Of course. It is your birthday!"
After Severus returned to his chamber and reactivated the wards, he lifted the cover off the plate on the tray and grimaced. There were eggs, bacon, sausages and tomatoes covered in a film of congealed fat. Even the toast looked greasy.
He set the tray on the floor for his partner to inspect. The Siamese gingerly touched the yolk of an egg with the tip of a claw and sprang away when it jiggled. Transforming back to her human form, Eris shuddered. "Good thing I'd already planned to serve you breakfast in bed."
Severus quickly strode to the bedside, removing his robe and arranging the pillows to his satisfaction. Propped up, he took the tray Eris offered. "Share it with me."
She sat beside him and watched expectantly as he lifted the stasis cover to reveal creamy scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and soft, toasted muffins. Severus looked from the food to his partner. "This is what we had that first morning." Eris' smile was so radiant he felt his own lips turn up in response. Raising a brow, he asked, "Will we be re-enacting that morning in its entirety?"
It amazed him that she could still blush. Almost shyly, she nodded. "It is your birthday."
-
Hours later, Severus was not in the mood for a jaunt with Ap Meurig. He would rather go back to sleep. The managing female that callously woke him from his nap and prodded him toward the shower only a short while earlier now mewed softly. He looked down and frowned. "Do not think to sway me with kitten eyes."
"Mew."
He sighed heavily and bent to pick 'Epis' up. "Very well. All is forgiven." He petted her, enjoying the downy soft hair as much as her contented purrs. In the kitchen, Gruffydd was feeding treats to a pair of owls on the wide stone sill.
"For you, Apprentice," the man said, jerking his head toward the worktable.
Upon the table lay a trio of envelopes. The first one was from his mother, who wrote,
Dear Severus,
Our family has never truly celebrated birthdays. Your grandfather considered them trivial and your father spent any money he had on himself. This winter has been such a time of change I decided to alter that. Enjoy yourself on your birthday.
Sincerely,
Mother
The ending salutation flabbergasted Severus almost as much as the Gringotts bank draft enclosed in the envelope. What would she write next time, 'your loving mother'? He stared blankly at the parchment, astonished the idea was welcome. Another envelope caught his eye. It had watermarks and smudges around the edges. The letter was from Tom.
S
Hows tha bin, Tyke. 'Ow are things with Meurig? I can just picture you shaking your head in disgust over my Yorksher. Damn, you're ugly. How are you ever going to get a bird looking like ruddy great bat?
My own bird has been trying to hen peck me, demanding I write constantly and threatening violence if I so much as look at another woman. Claire really is amusing. She might strike lucky and become Mrs. Tom Wilkes one fortunate day in her future—if she stops nagging. Does she think I'm sightseeing and not looking for Eris as hard as I can?
I would have dropped by our old Divination professor's and had him contact the spirits to see if she'd crossed over, or whatever the Hades he used to call it, but the stupid witch sent a letter, and now I'm off to South Africa.
Anyroads, Happy Birthday and here's a charm I picked up in Knockturn Alley for you. Bloke said it was from Bolivia, called it a Munanchi amulet. Take it to the pub, find a way to wrap a hair from a girl you desire around it, and who knows, you might not be a virgin come morning.
T
Severus gazed down at the tiny soapstone amulet depicting an amorous couple and smirked. Perhaps he would perform a scientific experiment with one of Eris' hairs later. He placed the little charm aside and reached for the final letter. The arrogant slant to the writing identified the sender without a signature. Lucius Malfoy.
You will be receiving a visitor shortly. I was apprised of neither the identity of your guest nor the time of the arrival, merely informed your 'progress' would be inspected by an unnamed member of the inner circle. Remember your actions reflect on me and do not fail to impress.
There was no concern for his protégé other than how he might reflect upon his sponsor—how Malfoy. Severus shrank the letters and placed them in a secure inner pocket along with the amulet. He would face whoever came when they arrived. For now, he had a different kind of visit to endure.
The Potions Master entered the kitchen with a spring in his step. "Apprentice and familiar ready to depart?"
"She is not my familiar."
A white eyebrow lifted. "I'd not thought you the old-fashioned sort to object to the term. What do you call Epis, then?"
"My companion."
"Ah, companion...very nice. Come along."
Outside the Keep, Mordred took hold of Severus' forearm. "We could trek to the village, Floo to the nearest inn on the network, and then hike up to Baudwin's cottage, but it is much easier for me to Apparate us. Hold your companion securely, if you please. I would hate to have any unfortunate splinching occur."
The Siamese buried her head in the crook of Severus' elbow. Not keen on Apparating, was she? Frankly, neither was he, not that he would admit it. To admit weakness was to invite others to prey upon it. He nodded to indicate his readiness and reflexively closed his eyes.
-
Severus shook off the chill of Apparation and opened his eyes to behold a stone cottage that seemed like a hermitage, located in an even more remote part of Northern Wales than his master's keep. His partner's head was darting side to side as she took the place in. His lips curved. She probably thought the environs 'picturesque.'
"Baudwin prefers to think of himself as a retired adventurer, content in his solitude, although he regularly travels to a wizard-run pub a few leagues away," Mordred informed cheerfully, pointing to the left. "That footpath leads to a hidden garden and a waterfall."
"Hidden? From whom? Pesky neighbour children?"
The old wizard laughed at the sarcasm. "The progeny of woodland creatures is more likely, but in truth Baudwin fears fellow wizards will try and steal the rare plants he grows for his potions and so wards the path with Confundus charms."
"Who goes there!" bellowed a voice fit for a giant.
"Amplifying charm," Mordred whispered out of the side of his mouth before calling, "A Potions Master and his apprentice."
The door opened. "Come in, come in, spies may be watching," urged the wizard inside the cottage.
Severus' brows rose almost to his hairline, but he followed his master down stone steps to enter the reclusive wizard's abode. The interior was warm, smelt faintly of fish, and seemed to consist of a large room with a smaller sleeping/bathing chamber to one side. Lit by the glow of the fire and enchanted torches, the cottage reminded Severus of a shop located between Diagon and Knockturn alleys. It was filled with enchanted items, jars, and flagons of mysterious potions and ingredients.
"Bledri's been on the prowl," said their host, stirring a cauldron in the fireplace anti-clockwise. The small, podgy man sidled over to the nearest window and peered outside. "Ever since I threatened to use werewolf repellent on him in the pub, he's been obsessed with trying to discover if I was bluffing or spoke true."
Bledri meant 'wolf king.' In the same manner as Lupin, the name fit the beast. Severus asked, "Have you invented werewolf repellent?"
"No, I was bluffing. I'd just beat him at cards and he was trying to welsh on the bet." Baudwin grinned at Mordred who shook his head.
"You fled Brittany fifty years ago, and that joke was old then."
"I chose to retire here, away from the hordes of Muggles."
"You were chased out!"
While the two old men squabbled contentedly, Severus set Epis on the floor and curiously inspected the items on a nearby shelf. An illumination orb intensified and then dimmed by the touch of a finger, a cup that filled with water when he picked it up and magically emptied when he set it back down, and a smooth, flat, stone.
"That's not for skipping, young man. That's a sun stone. It absorbs heat and then releases it at a slower gradient when temperatures cool. Excellent for keeping your feet warm at night," said Baudwin.
"So is a blanket with a warming charm, or a pair of woolly socks," said Mordred.
Baudwin frowned. "I could hurl the stone at your head if you'd prefer."
"I would not."
"Humph, that's what I ...hold on, what is it that cat's playing with?" demanded Baudwin. Epis dropped into a defensive crouch and turned big blue eyes on the wizard, who knelt down and said softly, "Bring your toy to me, kitty." He petted the Siamese who had daintily padded over with a tiny blue velvet pouch and remarked, "She's as soft as the inside of a woman's thigh."
Severus found the analogy offensive and motioned his partner to return to him. Logically, he knew petting the cat was not the same as stroking the woman, but still, he preferred not to see another man's hand on her.
Mordred asked his friend, "What woman's thigh have you been fondling, you randy old goat?"
"Not Dera Bowen's, you jealous old curmudgeon," Baudwin retorted, opening the velvet bag.
Severus remembered the witch who ran a stall at the Muggle festival and how she had smiled when saying, 'Call me Dera. Mordred does.' How remarkable that old wizards and witches retained interest in romantic activities. He looked down at Epis and smirked. The knowledge was reassuring, too.
"Is that a bluestone?" asked Mordred.
Severus walked over to see a knut-sized polished stone that brought to mind a night sky studded with stars.
"Yes, blue dolerite, from our Preseli Hills, same as that what stands at Stonehenge."
"Our hills, is it?"
"Leave off, old man, before I hex you." Baudwin asked the younger wizard, "Know what the clever puss found?"
"If the rock has some property other than a pleasing appearance, I am not aware of it," admitted Severus.
"An apprentice who does not claim to know it all...you are fortunate, Mordred," said Baudwin.
"The same could not be said of our Master."
Baudwin noted Severus' look of surprise and nodded. "Yes, we were Apprentices together, until I decided a life of singular study was not for me." He waved a hand at the varied disciplines of magic displayed in the cottage and said wryly, "I am Jack of all trades and master of none."
Mordred clapped his friend on the shoulder. "But you're the best Jack of all trades in the Wizarding world, and should be proud of your work."
Severus glanced around at the jumble of enchanted items, old tomes, spell books, and potions jumbled together and nodded respectfully, although he was not very impressed. It seemed like the wizard puttered around working magic randomly at whim. He did not relate to such a mindset.
Baudwin seemed pleased with the praise, smiling as he took down a jar from a shelf and handed it to Severus. "Your master asked that I teach you to make Firegel, which both protects pouches and packets from fire and, when charmed, burns anyone who touches them aside from the owner. Are you interested?"
The ointment was thick, grainy, and likely highly expensive to purchase. Severus nodded. "Very much so."
"Excellent, but before we begin, since this is your birthday..." Baudwin bent down and rubbed the bluestone along Epis' fur, chanting softly. The 'stars' in the dolerite glowed with bright intensity before abruptly fading. He placed the rock into its velvet pouch and handed it to Severus. "The Seeking Stone is now attuned to your familiar and should she ever become lost, it will lead you to her."
"Companion," corrected Severus absently, his gaze on the cat whose purrs were audible in the quiet of the cottage.
Suddenly, a hissing sound emanated from the cauldron. "Quick! Stir, Mordred, stir!"
"Is that a volatile potion, sir?" said Severus, watching Baudwin wipe sweat from his brow with a scrap of linen.
The man looked at him and laughed. "No, boy, it's our lunch. Bouillabaisse!"
-
Later that evening, Severus was surprised to receive both a small cake and a wrapped present from his partner. He had half-expected the cake, but after his Christmas presents was not expecting a gift.
"Blow out the candle and make a wish," Eris urged.
It was too undignified. He could not make himself do it. "Will you do me the honour?" he asked.
His partner smiled. "You have to make the wish, though. On three. One, two, three!" She blew out the candle and kissed him before placing the gift-wrapped box on his lap. "I transfigured it myself. I...I thought you could use it in your work."
He knew by her tone that she did not mean Potions. Severus was intrigued. When he lifted the deep black garment out of the box, he was speechless.
"It's a Holocaust Cloak, sometimes called a Cloak of Terror. They've been around for centuries, but are very complicated to transfigure. Most cloaks with the name don't have any magic, but I found a book in Mordred's library that detailed how to weave the spells into the fabric, so I did it for you."
Somehow, he managed to say, "Thank you."
She continued in a determinedly cheerful tone, "There's a Protection spell in the cloth. It's waterproof, fireproof, and hard to damage. There's a Concealment charm too, so you'll blend into the darkness, and when the hood is up, shadows will conceal your face."
"I don't know what to say."
Eris' smile was wobbly. "I don't need pretty words. I need you to stay safe. I can't help You-Know-Who, but I will help the man I love. That's why I added the final spell."
She looked ready to cry. He stared in concern. "What spell?"
"You can't feel it, because it's your cloak, with your hair woven into the fabric along with the spells, but everyone else will be affected, even if they don't recognise what it is." Eris raised her hand. It was trembling. "It's fear. The cloak radiates it and will eventually demoralise anyone who remains in close proximity."
Severus was seized with the urge to try it on. Eris rose. "I think I'll run a bath while you...check the fit..."
He waited until the lavatory door shut and then strode eagerly toward the opposite side of the room. Severus opened the door of the wardrobe and put on the cloak. In the full-length mirror, he gazed at his reflection and felt excitement rise.
His appearance was that of a wraith, a creature of darkness that would inspire fear like a Dementor. He smiled, but couldn't see it. Although his vision remained unimpaired, the hood transformed his features into impenetrable shadows. Severus chuckled darkly. He could hardly wait to try out all the properties of this marvellous gift.
Reluctantly, he returned the cloak to the box and stored it in his warded trunk. Still elated by the thought of all that he could accomplish wearing such a garment, he stripped off his clothes on the way to the lavatory and slid into the bathwater, still smiling. His partner was reclining at the other end.
"You like it, then?"
Severus reached for a bar of lavender soap. "I love it."
-
The next morning found him stalking to the door to see what catastrophe had occurred that required him to rise before dawn. Mordred greeted his scowling 'what' with a beaming, "Catrin's had the baby! It's a boy! She had little Emrys last night, but waited until this morning to owl. Didn't want to disturb my sleep." White hair shook. "As though I need sleep when there's a new Ap Meurig to greet!"
Severus was quite fond of sleep. He would have liked to resume his slumber, but his master had other ideas.
"Hurry and get dressed. Catrin and Rhys want you to come see the babe...and your companion as well! I'll meet you in the kitchen in a quarter hour."
"Yes, Master." When the door shut, he grumbled, "Why do new parents require everyone they know to come and gape at their lumpish offspring?"
"Lumpish!" Eris laughed, emerging from behind the bed curtains. "Newborns are precious and beautiful."
"They look disturbingly like little old men, and do nothing but produce cries and noxious smells."
When his partner stopped giggling, she said, "But you'll be civil and congratulate Rhys and Catrin regardless."
Were females born with managing tendencies, or was it a learned behaviour? Either way, her tone made him quip, "Yes, Mother."
She smiled apologetically. "I don't think I'll be ready to be a mother until the war is over."
He took her hands in his. "The Dark Lord fights to gain supremacy over the Wizarding world and will not cease until he triumphs. I am not blindly optimistic. We may not see peace for a very long time. Are you willing to wait years...perhaps even a decade?"
"Yes, as long as I have you."
Severus' upturned lips reflected his inner satisfaction. He said, "You have me."
-
Several unproductive hours later, he returned from the younger Ap Meurig's castle without his constantly purring partner. Catrin had wanted 'Epis' to stay awhile longer and return with Mordred after dinner. Severus had readily agreed and congratulated the couple once again before he left. It was a relief not to listen politely while the others gushed over an infant who had little to recommend him in his current stage of development.
"You have a visitor."
Severus closed the kitchen door and walked toward the retainer. "Who?"
"Didn't say, just ordered you be sent to the drawing room the moment you returned."
Severus looked into Gruffydd's eyes and 'saw' the conversation that had taken place. The visitor was arrogant and condescending. The younger man said, "Did you ask how long..."
"Overnight," answered Gruffydd.
With a brusque thank you and a request that a tea tray be delivered as soon as possible, Severus strode out of the kitchen and down the corridor. By the time he'd reached the drawing room, his thoughts were cool and controlled. Silently, he opened the door and entered the room.
He told the woman who looked up from the sofa, "Good afternoon, Bellatrix."
-
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A/N: I found a lot of random information on the internet that helped me write this chap. The firegel and info about hedge wizards, which is what Baudwin reminded me of, were from a D&D fact sheet (Do people still play that?) The name Baudwin came from one of the later Knights of the Round Table. He was from Brittany, had been a renowned healer, and became a hermit. Emrys and Bledri were names from historical stuff I read for fun, since I didn't use it, lol, and of course Bellatrix starts with B that rhymes with T, and that stands for Trouble!
