AN: Thank you for all of your thoughts on Miss Stradling. I think she's going to be a very fun character to write. I'm really glad that people feel mixed about her – I was trying for that. Everyone hates a batman villain; I wanted something more complex. This chapter is pure and unabashed fluff – but I promise a return to more serious topics next chapter.
Severus Snape rarely found himself as much at a loss as he was facing what felt like such a benign childhood ritual – a birthday. He knew the expectations – a cake, a present, and even perhaps decorations – but how was he going to do that for the incorrigible soon to be ten-year-old in his custody? He knew the day – of course he did! That blasted prophecy wouldn't have been tied to Lily without it. But what to do? He doubted Harry had had a birthday party before either, so he wasn't sure how to even ask about it.
"Harry, there's something I'd like to discuss with you," Professor Snape told him as they finished dinner one night.
"I didn't do it!" Harry objected, his eyes flying open in panic.
"That seems like a very suspicious answer," Snape told him, his eyes narrowing. "What have you been up to today? Should I call the house elf?"
"Nothing!" Harry insisted. "It was nothing."
Snape just looked at him with his menacing glare, causing Harry to gulp and look down with guilt. Snape knew it was only a matter of time before the lad broke, and he need not say another word. The boy's shoulder's hunched in shame, and Snape continued to stare at him.
"I might have done just a little something," Harry answered in a tiny voice that sounded on the verge of tears.
"Do tell," Snape answered, his voice low.
"Don't blame Freck," Harry begged, looking up in earnest. "It was my fault, not hers."
"What happened?" Snape repeated, trying to keep his voice calm enough not to scare the boy any further.
"Well, I had seen it on TV sometime," Harry confessed. "I don't remember when, but I've wanted to do it forever and I couldn't with the Dursleys. So I took one of the big silver trays from the dining room and . . . well, I sled down the stairs on it."
"Did you damage anything?" Snape asked, his voice stern.
"No, sir," Harry answered. "I put a small scratch on the wall, but Freck fixed it right up. She was more worried about my noggin, as she put it. She gave me a fierce scolding."
"And you deserved it," Snape told him firmly. "There will be no more shenanigans like that. Your 'noggin' is far too valuable to risk splattering it."
"Yes, sir," Harry agreed with a sigh. "So the corner then? My room?"
Snape could hear the question behind the question – he was asking just how much trouble he was in. He was no longer expecting to get beaten or locked in a cupboard, but he still had a strong fear reaction when he'd done something wrong. But Snape was loathe to give the lad a consequence for what amounted to some poor judgment and high spirits, and in fact he found himself unexpectedly cheered that the boy had attempted something so naughty to begin with. Perhaps the Dursleys had not broken his spirit as much as he had feared if he was willing to defy him and sled down a staircase on a silver tray. And to admit to it as well, surely that showed that he was beginning to trust his guardian to be reasonable?
"Since you confessed the truth I will let Freck's scolding stand as your consequence," Snape told the frightened boy. "It is good you chose not to lie. But don't let it happen again, or I will not be so lenient."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied with feeling. He was still getting used to this idea of having a guardian that was reasonable and that he could be honest with. Each time he was honest – though it was hard – he found himself so relieved afterward. "Did Freck tell you?"
"No, you did," Snape answered, almost amused. "I wanted to speak to you on a different matter. It seems you had a guilty conscience."
"I guess I did," Harry nodded with a grin, not ashamed. "I feel better telling you."
Snape, continually surprised by the outspoken honesty of his ward, again reminded himself that this boy was probably a Gryffindor. "I wanted to speak to you about your birthday," Professor Snape told him. "It's coming up next week and I wanted to discuss how you might want to celebrate."
"Celebrate?" Harry echoed blankly.
"I believe cake is traditional," Snape continued with more confidence than he felt. "And I have a few ideas, but wanted to know what you might like."
"You have already done so much for me . . ." Harry started, looking down.
"None of that," the Professor corrected sharply. "None. You are a normal boy and will have a normal birthday. Now, what do you want to do for your birthday?"
"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "My first wish was a nice family, but I already have that now."
"Well, it's ridiculous to give you something you already have," Snape told him briskly, not letting his voice reflect the softening he felt in Harry referring to him as his "nice family." Did the boy not realize he was not really a nice person, let alone a suitable family for him? "Nor something that every child deserves anyway. What did that insufferable cousin of yours do for his birthday?"
"Dudley always did something fun, like going to the movies or to the zoo," Harry admitted.
"Would you like that?" Snape asked curiously, trying to picture himself taking his ward to something like a zoo. It certainly sounded strange.
"I guess," Harry answered. "But really what I want is probably not something you can give me even if you wanted to."
"What's that?" Snape pressed.
"A friend," Harry answered, looking away. "At school everyone hated me because of Dudley, and I've always wanted one – you know, a boy I can play with. Someone who likes me. Dudley always had friends at his birthday party."
Snape's heart warmed at such a simple request – one that he could have made at that age too but not with the sincerity and honesty that his ward told him. Such a simple thing – a friend – but also Harry was right in that it wasn't something he could wrap up with a bow. It would be hard to give him what he really wanted; but perhaps Dumbledore could be consulted.
The next week Harry woke up on the morning of his birthday with a great deal of excitement. He chided himself a little at his excitement – after all, wasn't it miracle enough to have plentiful food, comfortable clothes, and a guardian that seemed to tolerate him? He had no right to expect more than that. But he also couldn't manage to squash the hope completely – what if there really was something special happening today? The sensation of hope was so foreign yet so exciting Harry could barely contain himself.
Harry quickly rushed through his dressing and teeth brushing to make his way downstairs, wondering what was going to happen. Would the Professor forget? Harry could never remember being this excited for anything. The Dursleys would remember his birthday of course, but use it as a way to emphasize how unloved he was. Getting a present of a pair of worn socks cast-off from Dudley was by far worse than them forgetting.
"Bright eyed and bushy tailed I see?" Snape drawled as he saw Harry enter the kitchen. "Good morning, Harry."
"Good morning, Professor Snape," he greeted his guardian, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Happy Birthday," Snape told him, smothering a smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "I believe Freck has prepared a special breakfast."
"A special breakfast?" Harry repeated, excited. "What is it?"
"I believe iced buns," Severus observed. "And bacon. And apparently some sugary abomination called Coco Pops. . ."
"She remembered!" Harry gasped, surprised. "I talked about them a month ago!"
"I think you'll find that house elves rarely forget," Snape told him. "She believes they are all the rage with muggles, and that you always longed to have some."
"She was right," Harry admitted. "It's amazing! It's supposed to turn your milk brown."
"So does tea," Snape replied, taking a sip of the aforementioned drink. "Oh well, she went all the way to a muggle shop to procure some, so you may as well have a taste. I believe there is cold milk as well."
Harry, eyes bright with excitement, poured himself a bowl of the cereal and added the milk. He laughed at the popping sound the cereal made, and Snape rolled his eyes. Merlin's beard, this boy could be some sort of walking advertisement. Harry ate the bowl of cereal in total euphoria, and then followed it by an iced bun and bacon as well.
"I'll not eat any more cereal this morning so I can save it to have on other days," Harry planned. "That way the treat lasts longer."
"Very sensible," Snape acknowledged. "And I'm glad you've had a good breakfast. We have a busy day before us."
"We do?"
"First your present," the Professor announced briskly, raising his hand above his head and having a broom fly into it with a smack.
"Is that a broom?" Harry asked, confused as Snape handed him the old-fashioned style broom.
"It seemed impractical to wrap for you," Snape told him. "In addition to a new broom, I have secured you some early broom lessons. I believe we are expected there in half an hour."
"I don't understand," Harry said blankly. "I already do know how to sweep."
Snape's head whipped around for any sign of being mocked by the boy. Did he not appreciate how much thought Snape had put into what would be a good present for a boy his age? And introducing him to other children that he might be able to socialize with based on his wish for a friend? But when Snape looked at the boy's face, he didn't see mockery – Harry was actually very confused and hurt. Sighing, Snape chided himself for not remembering how sheltered Harry truly was from the wizarding world. And it's not like he had ever seen Snape use a broom either – he much preferred more dignified forms of travel. Confusion was understandable, but the stricken look on his face – and then Snape suddenly realized why. Harry thought that he was being given a tool to do more chores around the house, he didn't understand.
"Witches and Wizards can fly on special brooms," Snape explained matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't just discerned Harry's reaction. "It's part of a sport we call Quidditch. For your birthday present I have acquired you lessons so that you can start learning how to fly as well. We are going to go visit another wizarding family where some of the older children have agreed to teach you."
"Children?" Harry echoed, his voice building excitement.
"Yes, this family has a lot of them," Snape assured him. "The youngest boy is close to your age, I believe."
"What's his name?" Harry breathed, his eyes sparkling with joy once again. Of course his new guardian wasn't like the Dursleys, who had actually once given him a plunger for Christmas. This was a wonderful present!
"Weasley," Snape replied. "I believe his first name is Ronald."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry breathed, hardly able to breathe thinking how wonderful this day was going to be.
"You're welcome," Snape nodded curtly. "We need to go or we're going to be late. Come along, Harry."
"That's how you met Uncle Ron?" Severus asked, surprised. "Professor Snape actually introduced you?"
"He did," Harry answered easily. "It was such an amazing birthday for me. Grandma Molly even made me a cake, and Fred and George taught me all the basics on how to fly. I had never experienced a family like theirs before – loud, fun, loving. It became a regular thing to visit there under the pretense of broom lessons, although I quickly picked it up and it soon morphed into Quidditch practice. That fall when Professor Snape returned to Hogwarts Molly included me in her home school during the day."
"Will my birthday be like that?" Severus asked, seeming again like a vulnerable youngster.
"Of course," Harry answered with a smile. "In that we will celebrate. I'm not saying that you'll get a homeschool teacher out of it."
"Did you celebrate Professor Snape's birthday as well when you were growing up?" Severus asked.
"Under duress," Harry smiled. "It seems another story is in order."
"Professor Snape?" Harry asked as Snape arrived at the breakfast table.
"Yes?" Severus answered, trying not to sound short with the boy. But he had to hurry with his breakfast if he wanted to start that potion before class.
"I just, well, I wanted to let you know I cooked you breakfast."
"You did what?" Severus asked suspiciously. "Why ever would you do that?"
"Well, it's your birthday today," Harry answered, taking a step back and his eyes flying a little wider open in fear. "I wanted to, well, to give you something. And I don't know a lot, but I do know how to cook."
"Did Mrs. Weasley teach you how to cook?" he demanded. "When I agreed to you joining her little homeschool she assured me that she would be focusing on math and reading . . ."
"No, I learned to cook from the Dursleys," Harry quickly explained. "I used to cook breakfast every day. See, it looks good, doesn't it? Mrs. Weasley just, well, I asked her when your birthday was and she told me."
"Did she also inform you that I don't celebrate my birthday?" Snape demanded.
"She didn't know, I don't think," Harry answered. Quite unknown to him, Harry took another step back and his body started hunching into a position that would make running easier.
Seeing Harry's fear, Snape took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He reminded himself that his ward was just trying to be nice; he didn't know. "I see you've made eggs," he observed, trying to make his voice neutral.
"And bacon!" Harry announced, his fear calming in response. "Just like Freck made for me. I know you normally have porridge, but I thought you liked this on my birthday."
"I did," Snape answered simply. "This was thoughtful of you, Harry. But I don't normally celebrate my birthday."
"Why?" Harry asked simply, watching as Snape dished himself up some of the eggs and bacon.
Snape paused for a moment. What should he tell the boy? That he didn't even know when his birthday was until Lily thought to ask and had him ask his mom? That Lily had made him a lopsided cake when he turned eleven? That when she was gone he couldn't bear this day?
"Fuss and bother," Snape replied. "Birthdays aren't practical."
"You celebrated mine," Harry answered.
"I did," Snape answered simply. He had no idea how to answer further than that.
"I made you a card, too," Harry told him proudly. "See? I even wrote the words with a quill pen like Mrs. Weasley taught me."
"It's very nice," Snape answered, seeing the childish letters and stick sketch of himself and Harry riding brooms together. His heart unexpectedly warmed at such a clear show of affection for him. "Then I'm glad you're learning something at that school of hers."
"Can I bake you a cake?" he asked. "I wanted to ask because it would take up the lesson time today and Mrs. Weasley said I had to have your permission to use my lesson time like that. But she promised to make math part of the activity, I think fractions? Oh, and what flavor do you like?"
Snape ate his eggs, arguably perfectly cooked, and marveled at how much he still didn't really know about this boy. He had cooked breakfast for the Dursleys every morning? At nine? A part of him wanted to have none of it, to tell Harry to forget it was his birthday. But there was another part – a part that really didn't want to disappoint the boy. He obviously wanted to do the cake baking project, as well as understandably the cake eating part later. Perhaps it was fitting that Lily's son would be the next one to celebrate with him.
"You may," he nodded. "And I'm partial to chocolate."