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Snape’s Birthday


Regulus Black watched from the Slytherin table as Sirius laughed at his table across the hall, his arms flung over his friends’ shoulders. He looked so carefree and Regulus felt a horrible ache in his chest as he watched how James Potter cracked up at something Sirius said and Peter Pettigrew smiled meekly and Remus Lupin proposed a toast they all raised their glasses to… Regulus wished that he and his friends were as excitable and fun as Sirius and the Marauders seemed to be.

Other than Barty, though, Regulus wasn’t even certain he had any true friends. Well, oddly enough, perhaps Severus Snape, too, he thought, glancing Severus’s direction, but even that he wasn’t sure if it was out of obligation or not. Although ever since the night they’d talked about the House Elves by the fire in Slytherin common room, Severus had seemed to be a bit more kind toward Regulus…

As though Severus had heard him thinking - and Regulus realized with a knot in his stomach that he probably had - Severus looked over from his place a few places down and across at the table, where he was talking with Evan Rosier in hushed tones. Severus’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but he stared at Regulus a moment, then turned his gaze away, back toward Evan. Regulus looked down at his plate.

“Are you alright?” Barty Crouch Jr. asked, leaning closer to Regulus. “You been actin’ funny all day… and now you ain’t eatin’ your chops.” He pointed at the lamb bits on Regulus’s plate.

Regulus nodded, “Yeah. I’m alright. I just got some stuff on my mind is all.”

“What stuff? Quidditch?” Barty asked.

Regulus nodded, “Yeah. Quidditch.”

“Well, silly, don’t be frettin’ ‘bout quidditch! You’re a brilliant Seeker.” It was true that Regulus had quite fulfilled Slytherin house’s dreams of being an excellent Seeker. In fact, it was being whispered that, aside from James’s performance at the Ilvermorny tourney two years ago, Regulus may just have been the best seeker that Hogwarts had seen in over a century. James’s performance was still talked about in hushed tones of reverence by the other houses, and even though he was technically a chaser the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were a bit reluctant to give the title of Best Seeker in a Century to Regulus. But, much to the charinge of the Gryffindors, there was really no denying that Regulus was really good and probably did deserve the title. Regulus was just glad that he’d had a natural talent for it after all the boasting he’d done about it…

When the feast had ended, they all walked down to the Slytherin common room and hung about. Regulus played gobstones with Barty, who wasn’t very good at it, and he thought about Kreacher and how many times he’d beaten the poor house elf and toward the end he purposely lost the game, and watched as Barty got impossibly excited that he’d won. It was clear that Barty had few triumphs in his life so that winning at a game of gobstones was truly a rare and exciting treat for him. Regulus was glad to have given him the game and congratulated him heartily.

Slowly the common room emptied out as people went back off to bed. Severus was still up, sitting on the floor by the fire, staring into the flames and hugging his knees, his back against the coffee table, Regulus noticed, and he got the feeling that something was bothering the older boy so that he stalled and hung about the room until he, Severus, and Barty were the last three up. “Are we going to bed, then?” Barty asked, packing up the gobstones into their velvet bag.

“Alright,” Regulus replied, “You go. I’ll be up in a minute.”

When Barty had disappeared up the stairs, Regulus went over to where Severus sat and slowly lowered himself down to the floor beside him, both staring off at the fireplace. Severus had a funny look on his face, somewhere between annoyed and pained, and was picking at the hem on his robes as he sat cross-legged, his hair a curtain of black that nearly obscured his face.

Are we friends?” Regulus asked, referencing the thoughts he knew Severus had overheard.

“Oddly,” Severus answered, “We may be.”

Regulus liked the idea of this. He was surprised how much so. He smiled. “So what’s bothering you, then, Sev?” he asked.

“My name is Severus, do not call me Sev,” Severus said pointedly. “Only one person is allowed to call me that and it is not you.”

Regulus nodded, feeling a bit of the excitement at being friends dissipate. “Sorry.”

Severus sighed, “I just hate the nickname, that’s all. Don’t you hate Reg?”

“Yeah.”

“Well there you have it.”

Regulus nodded.

“And nothing is bothering me, I’m perfectly fine.” Severus was still staring quite hard at the robe hemming, though, his mouth pursed.

Regulus didn’t believe him.

They sat there in silence for several long moments, and Regulus purposely thought about how a friend would tell him what the matter was and how friends helped each other out, talking about stuff, and that Severus was clearly not telling the truth and how much better he’d feel if he’d just tell Regulus what was the matter…

“It’s my birthday,” Severus said.

“Today is? Well happy birthday!” Regulus said, turning to look at Severus, “You’re fifteen now, then?”

Severus nodded.

“Well why are you upset about that? I bet fifteen’s brilliant. I can’t wait ‘til I’m fifteen.”

Severus sighed. “It’s more… nobody remembered it. Or mentioned it, rather, I know she remembered it.”

“She … Lily Evans?” Regulus asked.

Severus nodded, staring down at his lap, “I know she’s angry with me. I’ve messed everything up so poorly with her. I wish I had a time turner, I’d go back to last year and undo all the idiot things I’ve done… if she’d just look at me again, I’d -- do anything --” Severus held his breath, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening him. “I hate myself for it. For all of it. I didn’t mean to hurt James Potter like that. I didn’t know the spell did that. I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to kill him, like they’ve all been saying… I was angry, sure, but I wouldn’t try to kill him… I’m not the sort of person that would kill another person… I don’t think. I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore half the time.”

“I know what you mean,” Regulus whispered. “Me, either.”

Severus took a couple gasping breaths and looked at Regulus. “There’s no way out of it. Out of Voldemort’s web.”

Regulus stared up into the older boy’s eyes, “There has to be some way. Look at my brother, he’s out of it… never really got in as far as we have, but being a Black he really was born in it in a way…”

“He isn’t out of it. He’s simply been lucky Voldemort and the others haven’t killed him yet. Eventually, they’ll get him. One way or another, they’ll get him. They’ll get anybody and everybody that stands in their way. Don’t be naive enough to doubt it for a second.”

They sat in silence again and Regulus looked at the green fire flickering in the hearth. He thought about the emotions that had coursed through him the night he sent Kreacher to Sirius, thought about how maybe Voldemort was wrong and maybe he was less the savior and more the enemy…

Severus looked over at him. “Don’t you ever say aloud,” he whispered.

Regulus stared back at Severus.

“And be careful thinking it too close to him, too,” he said quietly.

“Is he a mind reader, too, then?” Regulus asked.

“No. There’s a difference in it… He knows Legilimency; the ability to extract feelings and memories --” Severus said softly, “I taught it to him.”

“You did?”

Severus nodded slowly, “Started to anyway. He’s learned a good deal more on his own since I’ve taught him, but I’m a natural legilimens and he wanted that skill… that’s how I’ve ended up in the position I’m in. That’s why he accepts my mum and I, even though she’s a blood traitor and I’m a half-blood.”

“But you read minds,” Regulus said.

“I hear thoughts. Not always words, few minds are weak enough or open enough to get their full words, but I can usually piece it together from what I can extract…” Severus shrugged. “I share dreams with others. I feel their feelings and see flashes, pictures of their minds in my own. It’s a particular type of legilimency, and a lot of times I can’t fully control it. I can’t shut it off like some can. I can close my mind from others penetrating it with occlumency, but I can’t keep their thoughts from coming into mine.”

“So Voldemort can… can feel what I feel?” Regulus asked, afraid, “I don’t want him to know what I feel - not anymore - I’m so confused about what I feel is right and he’d never approve of that… He’ll kill me if he knew!”

“You need to learn occlumency, then,” Severus said.

“What is occlumency?” Regulus asked, eager.

“Occlumency is the magical defense of the mind against external penetration… it’s an obscure branch of magic, but very useful if you’re going to keep the Dark Lord out of your mind.”

“Teach me. Please. Severus, you have to teach me,” Regulus begged, and he actually turned to Severus on his knees. “Please. The Dark Lord can’t know my thoughts. He can’t. He’ll kill me.”

Severus considered the boy kneeling on the carpet before him. “Alright. But it won’t be easy. It takes a great deal of work… and dedication…”

“I can do it.”

Severus nodded. He could feel the desperation in Regulus. He knew already the boy would do quite well… “Very well,” he said. “At night. Like this. We’ll do it once everyone’s cleared the common room out.”

Regulus nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Yes. Please.”

Severus turned back to the fire and sighed.

Regulus slowly sank back to sitting beside him. After a long few minutes he said, “My birthday’s on Christmas. I turned thirteen and nobody said anything about my birthday, either, aside from Kreacher.” The house elf had brought Regulus a little cake with a single candle on it at the stroke of midnight on his birthday, something that Kreacher had done every year for as long as Regulus could remember.

Severus didn’t look over. “Happy belated, then,” he murmured.