Chapter 2. Happy Birthday!

It was almost amusing, really. His Birthdays seemed to be the unluckiest days in his life.

By the day he turned nine years old Severus had already understood the tendency, so he tried to be as unnoticeable as possible and preferably outside. Not that it really helped, but at least he tried.

Of course, January was too cold to sit and read, so Severus went either to the forest, which lay behind Shady Hall, or to a lake nearby. But that morning he didn't feel like skating, and the idea of wandering through the snow lacked in attractiveness all of a sudden. Headaches can do the strangest things to your preferences.

The boy put his winter coat on and slipped out into the park.

Big lacy snowflakes descended from the sky, slowly and gracefully. Severus pulled one of his gloves off, stretched his arm forward and moved his fingers slightly. A group of the snowflakes paused in the air and rearranged themselves into an image of a shining silver-white castle – as if an invisible painter had drawn a dotted line of the magnificent silhouette. Severus caught another collection of the snowflakes – and the castle got surrounded with a forest. The boy added several low hills in front of the castle and a couple of deer. Alana will like it, he thought, appraising the airborne picture.

The thought about his little sister brought a fleeting smile to his lips. Lady Silvia made it quite clear that she didn't want him near her children – or herself. When she was pregnant, she declared the boy was too ugly to look at, while bearing a child, and Severus was confided to his room. Later Lady Silvia stated that Severus would certainly harm Bertold and Alana and demanded to make it an official rule for the boy not to interfere with his stepsiblings' life. Augustus Snape agreed, claiming dinner-time to be the only exception. Six-years-old Severus dared to ask for an explanation – and met the consequences, which clarified nothing, but his own hopeless stupidity. So he accepted another incomprehensible thing in his existence and acted accordingly until the day he truly met his little stepsister.

xxx

…Severus walked along the corridor to the library for his next lesson with his father and was passing Alana's room, when he heard her cry plaintively. He slowed down involuntarily and listened for Madam Meghan, the nurse, or Lady Silvia to console the baby, but her crying did not cease, and there was no sound of movement in the room.

Severus bit his lip for a second, then pushed the door and looked in. Nobody was there, save Alana in her cradle. The boy approached shyly, seized the cradle edge and shook it slightly. The crying became quieter and acquired somewhat interrogative intonations, while the dark eyes looked up unhappily. The boy shook the cradle again and tentatively stroked one warm cheek with his fingertips.

"Don't cry, little berry," he said softly.

The baby calmed down suddenly, as if puzzled by the nickname, and begun to examine her visitor with open curiosity. The boy pushed the cradle slightly again, and Alana blinked drowsily. She was so cute! And tiny… and tender… Severus studied the girl in awe and couldn't help but smile at this baby-miracle. Alana smiled, too, and snatched the boy's finger with her hand. Severus tried to re-gain his property, but the little girl protested expressively, and Severus gave in for the moment. Watching the girl, Severus remembered something from the book he read once.

A lullaby.

He had never heard any, but he had inherited an ear for music from his mother, so it was easy to pick up the hidden melody of the poem and to begin singing quietly. Alana evidently approved of his improvisation, smiled again and closed her eyes. In a minute she was sound asleep, and Severus unclenched her fingers carefully to free his own. Concentrated on his task of singing and finger-liberating, the boy did not hear, when the door of the room opened, therefore his stepmother's voice made him jump a little.

"What are you doing here?" the woman was forced to hiss - not to disturb her sleeping daughter.

"Alana was crying, My lady, and I…"

"Don't give me your excuses," Silvia interrupted him.

Severus broke off and briefly pondered the difference between an excuse and an explanation, but kept the result to himself.

"What were you doing, when I entered?" Silvia raised her voice a notch.

"I was rocking Alana to sleep."

"You little liar! You were singing!"

"Yes…" Severus confirmed, vaguely bemused.

"Your father has forbidden singing!" Silvia declared triumphantly.

Severus gaped at the woman. "Why?"

"Do you question your father's order?"

"But they always sing lullabies to kids," the boy reasoned, evading the direct answer and appealing to the theory once more.

The sound of a sonorous slap in the face woke the baby, and Alana began to cry again.

Lady Silvia grabbed the girl from the cradle and glared at her stepson. "Look what you have done," she said icily. "Get out of here, you wretch. Lord Augustus will deal with you later."

"Nevertheless," Severus repeated, as if nothing had happened, "they do sing lullabies to kids." He reached up and patted Alana's leg gently; the baby calmed down instantly and beamed down at him.

Lady Silvia obviously hadn't expected such impudence from him, so she just stared after Severus as he went out of the room and closed the door accurately.

xxx

The rest of that day was really unpleasant to remember, but Severus had no regrets. It was so wonderful to touch Alana's hand and to be smiled at; to sing to her and to get his finger captured in return… She didn't find him nasty or repulsive. Of course, she was just a baby, she wouldn't know…

As the children grew older, it was getting more and more difficult to keep them apart – simply because of the space two pairs of unrestrained little legs could cover, even if the third pair of legs tried to walk another paths and corridors. Still the younger children saw Severus in the salon from time to time and they had dinner together. It was just natural that Bertold and Alana got curious…

Severus was seven already, and he had his hands full without additional trouble, but every time he observed his stepsiblings, he got mesmerized in spite of himself. They were so… different. Or was it he who was different?..

And then Mr. Evergreen, one of the teachers, made his impossible offer to Augustus Snape and his wife – why shouldn't they ask Severus to work at his younger brother handwriting? Surely the two boys would understand each other perfectly, and it could really make a difference…

Lady Silvia didn't appreciate the idea, but Augustus Snape did, and Severus found himself tutoring his stepbrother – first in writing, then in arithmetic, then in wand-practice… Initially Alana was not a part of the scheme, but the girl ran all over the house freely and eventually got to the class-room. Unlike Bertold, she stayed there willingly…

Severus envisioned his sister's lovely face, smiled again and took a deep breath. He didn't want to think she would ever change in the way Bertold had changed. Yes, the auburn-haired boy had always been somewhat capricious and thoughtless… and a bit vindictive, but he hadn't had that malicious slyness in him. And…

"What are you doing here?"

Severus snapped out of his reverie with a start. This question usually was a prelude to the things he didn't enjoy in the slightest. He let the snowflakes go and turned around to face his father, feeling a heavy piece of ice forming inside.

"I am…" Severus paused, seeking for an adequate answer.

"…indulging in silly games with wandless magic, I see," Augustus Snape supplied sardonically. "If my memory serves me right, I told you not to waste your time, when you have something useful to do. How would you explain your current leisure activities, when you haven't finished your essay on the 12th century charms yet?"

"I have almost finished it, sir."

"It must be ready in two hours."

"But…" Severus bit his tongue, remembering it was no sense to argue.

"Any comments?" the man asked coldly.

His tone was less than stimulating, but the words were out before the boy could stop himself. "You said I could have three hours of spare time on my Birthday…"

"…in case you didn't have other assignments," Augustus Snape elaborated. "You are nine years old; it's time to be more responsible. Besides, I haven't given you any permission to interrupt me."

"I haven't," Severus pointed out, though he really knew better than that.

The amber eyes pierced him like arrows. "Beg. You. Pardon?.."

"I said I hadn't interrupted you, sir."

"It looks like I am going too easy on you," Augustus Snape remarked. "Rest assured, I won't hesitate to correct the situation. And there is another matter. Bertold told me you kept singing to Alana. I though I made it clear enough you are not allowed to do it."

Severus dropped his glove and met his father's eye. Why are nearly all his pleasures forbidden? Why can't he enjoy anything even on his Birthday? And why wouldn't anyone explain him all these unfathomable things so that he could stop being a fool?

"Why?" Severus asked quietly, reducing all his questions to this key-word.

"Because I say so," the Lord of Shady Hall uttered very distinctly. "And if you directly or indirectly raise this topic once more, while conversing with anybody, you'll have all the reason to wish you have never been born."

"I wish it even without this," the boy said almost inaudibly, closing his eyes. His rebellious mood hadn't left him yet, but its bitter taste was numbing.

"So do I," Augustus Snape confirmed with a grimace.

And something died.

Something very small and almost imperceptible.

Severus looked up. "I am sorry, but that didn't depend on me," he noted tonelessly.

Augustus Shape scowled darkly and promised, "Your insolence will bring you double punishment tonight."

Severus didn't seem to care. Moreover, a corner of his lips twitched once as if ready to curl in a grin. "Yes, sir. You can make it treble, can't you…"

The Lord of Shady Hall was far from amused. "I can and I will," he pronounced very slowly, fixing his son with a dark glare. "Perhaps, it will teach you to think before you say something. In two hours you are expected in my workshop. With your essay."

The boy didn't watch him leave. Instead, Severus turned around and once again seized a bunch of snowflakes for his magical painting. In a moment a marvelous horse appeared in front of him, saddled and bridled. The boy reached for the reins, but his arm fell before he touched them. With one curt gesture he deleted the horse and bent down to retrieve his glove. It was soaked through, and he spent some time, shaking the snow off with mechanical precision. Then Severus stopped and assessed the result of his efforts. Acceptable.

"Happy Birthday," he murmured distractedly – and seized the glove with his teeth.