The morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over Spinner's End. Severus Snape stood at the counter, dressed in his usual black robes, preparing breakfast. He moved methodically, cracking eggs, slicing bread, and pouring juice with his right arm. The mundane task was a welcome distraction from the constant meowing that had filled the house for the past hour.
"Meow, meow, meow!" Septimus, their energetic three-year-old son, wandered around the kitchen, pretending to be a cat. His small face was a mixture of concentration and glee as he continued his relentless impersonation.
"Septimus," Severus said, his voice edged with weariness, "please stop meowing. It's been an hour."
"Meow!" Septimus responded, undeterred, crawling under the table and batting at the chair legs with his tiny hands.
Severus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that patience was a virtue, especially when dealing with a toddler. "Septimus, breakfast is ready. Come and sit at the table, please."
"Meow, meow, meow!" Septimus continued, now rolling on the floor, his imagination fully immersed in his feline persona.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He had faced Death Eaters, taught unruly students, and survived the horrors of war, but nothing quite prepared him for a three-year-old child's relentless energy and creativity. He looked at the clock, noting that Hermione had left for work nearly two hours ago. The day was just beginning, and he already felt exhausted.
"Septimus," Severus said, his tone firmer this time, "you need to eat your breakfast. You can be a cat after you've had something to eat."
Septimus looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Meow?"
Severus sighed, setting the plates on the table. "Yes, meow. Now come and sit down."
Reluctantly, Septimus crawled out from under the table and climbed into his chair, still making soft meowing sounds. Severus watched him with a mixture of exasperation and affection. It was hard to stay annoyed at Septimus for long, even when he was driving him to the brink of madness.
As Severus sat across from his son, he tried to engage him in conversation, hoping to distract him from his cat obsession. "What do you want to do today, Septimus?"
"Meow," Septimus said, picking up a piece of toast and nibbling.
"Besides meowing," Severus clarified, raising an eyebrow.
Septimus thought for a moment, his little face scrunched in concentration. "Play with toys. And draw. And… meow!"
Severus suppressed a groan. "We can play with toys and draw, but no more meowing. Your mother will be home later, and we need to have a quiet house."
"Why?" Septimus asked, tilting his head to the side in that curious way that always reminded Severus of Hermione.
"Because Mummy works very hard, and she needs a peaceful environment when she gets home," Severus explained, sipping his coffee. "And because your incessant meowing is giving me a headache."
"Meow," Septimus said softly, as if testing the waters.
Severus gave him a stern look. "Septimus."
"Okay, Daddy," Septimus said, his voice small and contrite. He took another bite of his toast and kicked his legs under the table.
The rest of breakfast passed relatively peacefully, though Severus remained on edge, half-expecting another burst of meowing at any moment. After eating, Severus cleaned the kitchen while Septimus played with his toy blocks in the living room.
"Meow," Septimus whispered, stacking the blocks into a precarious tower.
Severus closed his eyes momentarily, took another deep breath, and decided it was time to change scenery. "Septimus, would you like to play outside in the garden?"
"Meow!" Septimus exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly.
Severus sighed but couldn't help but smile at his son's enthusiasm. "Alright, let's go."
They stepped out into the garden, and the fresh air and warm sunlight were a welcome relief from the confines of the house. Severus watched as Septimus ran around, chasing butterflies and picking flowers, his laughter filling the air. Despite the challenging morning, moments like these made it all worthwhile.
Severus sat on a bench, his eyes never leaving his son. He couldn't help but think of how different his life was now compared to a few years ago. He had been a spy, a double agent, constantly living on the edge, never knowing if he would see another day. Now, he was a father, a stay-at-home dad, caring for a lively three-year-old who found endless joy in pretending to be a cat.
"Daddy, look!" Septimus called, holding up a daisy.
Severus smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "It's beautiful, Septimus. Just like you."
Septimus beamed, running over to hand Severus the flower. "For you, Daddy."
Severus took the daisy, feeling a lump in his throat. "Thank you, my little cat."
Septimus giggled and climbed onto the bench beside him. "I love you, Daddy."
Severus wrapped an arm around his son, pulling him close. He had always struggled to say these words, especially since he never heard it from his own parents. Even when he started dating Hermione and eventually married her, it took him so long to respond to Hermione's "I love yous."
"I love you more, Septimus."