FIC: Birthday Box (G)
Title: Birthday Box
Type: Fic
Age-Range Category: One
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Severus Snape, Eileen Prince
Author: mesmerising
Rating: G
Summary: Severus Snape spends another birthday with Mother and the Box.
As always, Severus holds his breath as Mother places her palm on his bedroom wall, about six and a half inches from the window. He holds his breath as the wallpaper fades away and a brick slides out, dusty with disuse. He holds the same breath as Mother retrieves the wooden box, no larger than her palm, and places it on her bed. Holds it, as Mother traces a rune with her forefinger, and the box expands, and the delicate carvings and the intricate 'P' can be seen in the grey afternoon light. Holds, until Mother lifts the box and retrieves her wand, black and slender and full of wonder.
Only then does Severus exhale, a rush of air leaving his small body through a crooked nose that has been broken once. Mother catches his eye and smiles.
Now the real magic happens. With wand in hand, Mother smiles and twirls and spells his bedroom into a palace, changing its worn contents into silvers and emeralds fit for a prince. What was his narrow bed is now a giant four-poster bed with green trimmings. What was a cracked ceiling is now stretched above them, with a chandelier lit by a hundred candles. What was Severus's tiny room is now larger than the entire Snape house, with a dozen portraits on the wall and a roaring fireplace at one end.
Another swish of her wand, and a large wingback chair appears in front of the fireplace. Swish and flick, and there is a side table with a plate of cakes and sandwiches, and two glasses of pumpkin juice.
When everything is as it should be, Mother turns to Severus. Every year, for a few hours, he can choose how to start his birthday celebrations. Last year, they'd had their cakes and sandwiches in his enormous bed as they looked through Mother's Box. The year before, Severus chose to lie on the rug in front of the fire, and Mother had conjured mugs of hot cocoa for them. He vaguely remembers the year before that, the constant warmth and contentment.
This year is different. This year, Severus is seven, a number with great meaning for their people. This year, Severus chooses the wingback.
Both he and Mother are thin enough to fit comfortably in the chair and still have the Box between them. Another flick, and their plates and glasses levitate before them. Severus picks up a cucumber sandwich and finishes it in three bites before reaching for another. The children at school talk about their birthday cakes and parties, but Severus prefers his sandwiches and juice.
When both Severus and Mother have eaten their fill, they settle back into the chair and start with the Box. Severus peers at the contents, at the orderly arrangement of photographs and trinkets and phials, and feels the anticipation grow.
He looks back up at Mother. She smiles, and continues their ritual in the order he has known all his life.
First are the wizarding photos of Mother when she was younger, before Father and long before Severus. There are three in total: Mother in front of the great Hogwarts Castle, her smile small and shy, her eyes dancing with delight, her long black hair flowing in the wind; Mother in a library, surrounded by books, her expression turning from annoyance to amusement; Mother, older now with shorter hair, sitting in a garden with her hands protectively over her belly where Severus grew. Severus takes his time studying all three, watching the pictures shift and change and return to the start, then shift and change and return again. Over and over, these moving pictures of Mother-but-not-quite-Mother, the dazzling young witch more magical than magic itself.
Every year, Severus wishes to remove these from the Box. Every year, Mother gently takes the photos from Severus's small hands, and returns them to the Box.
Then it's time for the two Muggle photos, so still and so strange. The first is of Mother and Father on their wedding day: she in a simple white gown with a small bouquet, he in a black suit with a small smile. Severus spends a long time looking at this photo, trying to recognise the tall and striking groom. Father has changed since his wedding day: he is now slimmer, gaunt even, and he never smiles.
The final photo is Severus's favourite. A Muggle shot outside their home, Mother and Father and a two-year-old Severus sitting on Father's shoulders. Their faces are blurry after an accident Mother couldn't quite fix with her wand, but Severus rather prefers it this way. He likes the mystery of not seeing their expressions, of imagining them smiling or laughing.
Severus studies the photo for several minutes before he relinquishes it. He is a little sorry when Mother replaces it in the Box, but the next items she retrieves make him smile again: four lockets, all with swivel frames, all containing magical portraits on one side and a lock of hair on the other. Severus wriggles to get himself comfortable, then looks up patiently at Mother. She is always a little sad before this part of his birthday ritual.
'My dear little Prince,' she says, her voice soft and smooth like a fine silk scarf. 'Are you ready to meet the rest of your family?'
Severus nods solemnly. 'I am, Mother.'
'Let us begin with your namesake: Severus Prince.' She hands him the oldest locket and waits for him to trace the flourishes embedded in gold. He opens it carefully, revealing a painting of a wizard with greying hair. 'Severus Prince was your Great-Grandfather. He was the youngest Prince, and he was not at all severe.' Mother's lips curl into a rare smile. 'He loved to tease and laugh. He was my favourite Grandfather.'
The wizard in the portrait winks at them both.
'Good afternoon, Great-Grandfather Prince,' Severus says. 'I hope you are enjoying your time in your portrait.'
The wizard sweeps back his robes and bows. Severus carefully traces a finger on the lock of blonde hair opposite the portrait before closing the frame and returning it to Mother.
'Your Great-Grandmother, Rosalind Prince,' Mother says, handing over the next locket. 'She was very elegant and kind.'
Severus opens the locket and greets the elderly witch with her black hair and hooked nose. 'Good afternoon, Great-Grandmother Prince. It is lovely to see you again.'
Mother continues with the third locket. 'This is your Grandmother, Aliena Prince. Both her parents were victims of the Wizarding War, which is why we do not have portraits of your other Great-Grandparents.'
Severus greets Mother's Mother, who smiles thinly from her portrait.
Then it is time for the fourth and final locket. Severus is always a little nervous to see his final family member.
'This is your Grandfather, Septimius Prince.'
Severus opens the locket to reveal a saturnine man with long black hair tied back to reveal his large, hooked nose. Severus swallows and tries to straighten his shoulders.
'Good afternoon, Grandfather Prince. I am Severus. Mother says I look just like you.'
The portrait's brows crease. The old man stares at Severus for a long time before closing his eyes and turning his head to the side. Severus feels a dull ache in his chest.
'My Father was very complex,' Mother says. 'Just like your Father is complex.'
Severus nods. Mother puts away the lockets, her hands a shaking a little. Her smile is a little forced when she turns to Severus.
'You have done well in greeting your ancestors, my little Prince. One day, you will understand the importance of knowing your heritage. Now, shall we take a look at what awaits you at Hogwarts?'
Severus brightens at the magical word. 'Yes, please. I'm seven now, which means there are only four more years before I get my letter!'
'That's right, my darling Prince. Shall we take out my letter?'
At Severus's nod, Mother retrieves the spelled parchment, addressed in a delicate script to Eileen Prince. Severus traces the letters, marvelling at how thick and heavy the letter is, so different from the paper in his schoolbooks. He studies the inky handwriting, and never wants to use a pencil again.
Mother begins to pull out other tokens: her lucky quill, three chocolate frog cards, a lemon sherbert wrapper, the first Outstanding she got as a second-year, her NEWTs, one knitted Slytherin glove. Once Mother has told the story behind each item, she sends it rotating in the air with a swish and flick of her wand. Swish and flick, swish and flick, until the objects orbit in a circle above them.
When they are finished, Severus leans back to look at the floating ring of wonders. His heart is warm and happy. In this moment, Severus knows he loves and is loved. He loves Mother, who has given him another wonderful birthday celebration. He loves his magical family, who is always there for him ever year. He even loves Father, who is much more pleasant after the holidays because there is more work, which means more hours to spend at the pub. He looks at the spinning items above him, then closes his eyes, wanting to be this happy, always.
Mother gasps suddenly. Severus startles, and then sees Mother's large smile.
'Oh Severus, look what you've done!'
Severus follows Mother's gaze and sees, to his surprise, the objects are now moving in a figure 8, following a beautiful path.
'A Moebius strip! You've create a Moebius orbit, my clever little Prince!'
Severus does not understand. Nor does he understand when Mother takes up her wand again and summons an empty phial, one of many in the last part of the box. He watches in fascination as Mother touches the wand to her temples and draws out the silvery substance. She gathers these strands with her wand, then sends them into the phial and replaces the stopper.
Mother puts the glass of swirling silver back into its compartment where it joins several others. Severus longs to know what these mean, but knows better than to ask. He will be told when the time is right.
Mother sets down her wand and reaches for Severus, holding him tightly in her arms. His heart is warm and happy again, and grows warmer and happier when Mother kisses his head, her voice as soft and silvery as the mysterious substance.
'Happy birthday, my precious half-blood Prince.'