January 9th. It used to be a day Severus Snape despised—one he would prefer not to acknowledge, let alone celebrate. But now, as he lay in bed, blinking away sleep, it was clear that this particular January 9th would be different. It had been for the last nine years, ever since Harriet Potter had decided that birthdays—his birthday—were something worth celebrating. This year, he was turning 49, and as usual, the day began with chaos.
He was barely awake when he heard the familiar sound of small feet scampering up the stairs. Then, like a tidal wave of shrieking, giggling energy, his five daughters burst into the room.
"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!" yelled Lila, the eldest at nine, waving what looked like a rather poorly wrapped package. Her bossy, eager personality always meant she was the first to take charge of situations, even if she often roped the others into her chaotic plans.
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" squealed Molly, the six-year-old, who was already bouncing on the bed, causing the mattress to dip dangerously under her weight. With her boisterous energy and love for being the center of attention, Molly could never wait patiently for anything.
Two-year-old Iris waddled in next, dragging a stuffed dragon nearly her own size. True to her sweet and more observant nature, she simply handed it over and waited for his approval, her big eyes wide with expectation.
Five-year-old Nia handed him what appeared to be a very squished cupcake, the frosting precariously hanging off the side. Nia’s creative streak had a tendency to push boundaries, both in terms of her artistic messes and her unapologetically bold personality.
The youngest, one-year-old Cora, was plopped onto the bed by Harriet herself, who stood in the doorway with a fond smile, clearly enjoying the pandemonium unfolding before her. Quiet and curious, Cora observed everything from the safety of her mother’s arms, occasionally reaching out to grab onto Severus’s robe.
Severus stared at his family, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. The sight before him contrasted sharply with the birthdays of his own childhood—if one could even call them that. No cake, no candles, no presents. Just another day to endure. But Harriet had changed all that.
It had started when they first got together. He had tried to brush off the idea of celebrating his birthday. After all, why bother? He was Severus Snape—he didn’t need cake or candles, nor Merlin forbid—presents. But Harriet, ever determined, had changed his outlook, starting with that quiet dinner years ago. What had once been a day he ignored was now a spectacle, thanks to her and their children.
“Here, Daddy! Open it! I made it myself!” Lila shoved her gift at him, the wrapping paper falling apart in his hands. Inside was a... scarf? Or a snake? Or perhaps a snake-themed scarf? He wasn’t quite sure, but Lila’s eyes sparkled with pride.
“I—thank you, Lila. It’s… perfect,” he said, wrapping the uneven creation around his neck, though one end of it nearly reached the floor. Her earnest effort and her fierce determination reminded him so much of her mother—he couldn’t help but smile.
“Do you love it, Daddy? Really?” she asked, her face a mix of hope and expectation.
“Absolutely,” he said, because in truth, how could he not? It was hideous, but it was hers. “I shall wear it every day.” This seemed to satisfy her, and she beamed, puffing her chest in pride.
Next was Nia, with the cupcake. “I baked it all by myself!” she declared, handing over the squished mass with an air of defiance, as if daring him to question its perfection.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”
“She was very... enthusiastic,” Harriet said diplomatically, her lips twitching with amusement. “I think we’ve got a future Potions Master on our hands. Though, you might want to give her a lesson or two in precise measurements".
He took a bite. The frosting was suspiciously salty, and the cake itself was more than a bit crunchy. He swallowed carefully. “Delicious,” he lied smoothly, as Nia bounced up and down in glee, already planning her next culinary masterpiece.
Molly was next, waving a painting that depicted a cauldron exploding in a swirl of pink clouds. “It’s you, Daddy! Doing a potion!” she explained helpfully, her artistic flair clear in the exaggerated features and vibrant colours.
Severus examined the picture with the gravity of someone appraising a masterpiece. “An excellent likeness, Molly,” he said solemnly, holding it up for Harriet to see.
"I particularly like the artistic interpretation of your nose," Harriet teased, and Severus shot her a look that would have melted cauldrons in his younger years. Now, it only made her grin wider.
As for Iris and Cora, they contributed in their own way—by tugging on his hair and patting his face. Iris, being the gentle soul that she was, offered her stuffed dragon, which Severus accepted graciously.
"Thank you, Iris. Very... useful," he said as he held the toy, unsure of what else to do with it.
And Cora, in her typical calm and curious way, simply drooled on his shoulder, a small, chubby hand resting on his cheek.
Finally, Harriet stepped forward, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "Happy birthday, Severus," she said softly, her green eyes twinkling mischievously, reminding him of just how much love and light she had brought into his once-dark life.
Severus found himself surprisingly touched. His daughters, despite being so young, wanted to make this day special for him—all on their own.
He glanced at Harriet, who was now laughing as Cora attempted to eat one of the cupcake wrappers. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Just...thinking.”
“About what?”
“How birthdays have evolved,” he said dryly. “Once, I loathed them. Now, I am awakened at dawn by a pack of wild children armed with dubious baked goods.”
Harriet grinned. “It’s called progress, love.”
Severus rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at his lips. Yes, progress. From a lonely boy who wished birthdays didn’t exist, to a man surrounded by more love and chaos than he ever thought possible.
As the girls continued their noisy celebrations, Severus leaned back against the pillows, letting it all wash over him. He had gone from someone who preferred to stay in the shadows to a man who was, apparently, worth celebrating.
And as he took another bite off the world's worst cupcake, he decided it wasn’t such a bad feeling after all.