*    *    *

He’d been six years old for nine whole hours when he got his birthday card and present. This one was wide, thick and rectangular. Harry tore through the wrapping paper; this one was red and gold.

He ripped quickly through the thin barrier. Underneath the layer of paper lay a book. It was a thick, leather-bound book. On the cover in sparkling gold words were the words A Childs’s Book of Wizardtales: complied by Mathilda Mythic.

Harry opened the book in the middle and came to a story called “The Cat Queen.” The pictures in the book moved like people on a television screen. The story of the wizard and the Cat Queen who helped him in his quest acted itself out on the illustrated page. When he stumbled over words the images shaped themselves to explain the word he couldn’t understand and occasionally, if he was really stuck, one of the characters would stop and explain it to him.

His green eyes quickly read through the story and then he started it again. He understood the story even better the second time. And by the fourth time, the picture didn’t have to explain any words to him.

His features were alight with joy as he finished the story. And then he remembered the letter that came with his gift.

He set his magical, there was no other word for it, book aside and reached down to the end of the bed to retrieve his precious letter.

Harry,

Happy 6th Birthday. I hope this year is better than the year before. You are always in my thoughts and heart.

Love,
Your father

Harry smiled and remembered the tall, thin, dark man who had come to him on Christmas morning. His father, who loved him, was out there, Harry thought. And his birthday had not been forgotten this year.

Harry leaned back on his small, thin bed and opened the book to the first page. He couldn’t wait to read the whole thing. Or at least he tried. Harry never did seem to reach the last page.

~*~*~*~

“This ‘sn’t funny, Albus.” Snape slurred as he glared at the Headmaster over the rim of his glass tumbler.

“On the contrary my dear boy, it’s quite hysterical.” Dumbledore said with a good-natured laugh.

Severus waved his glass at his college. “Ge’ out, will you, ya stogy old codger? Can’t you leave me in peace?”

Albus’s blue eyes twinkled with mirth. It was July 31st and Severus was drunk. It never failed. Madame Pomfrey had already sent the house elves the Pepper-Up Potion and Headache Draught for the morning after. Minerva had chosen tonight the perfect day to visit some distant relatives in Ireland and wouldn’t be Apperating back for three days.

No one liked dealing with Snape in July. He was antsy and irritable and more obnoxious than normal. The teachers tended to steer clear of him if at all possible towards the end of the month.

But not Albus Dumbledore. Well, the man had to get his jollies somewhere. “I’m a stogy old codger? Come now Severus. I’m not that old!”

Snape rolled his eyes and gazed dully at Dumbledore. “You got to be older than Moses, Albus. And the daft Red Sea pedestrian probably had less hair than you do.” He said reaching out and pointing at the headmaster’s long beard.

Albus smoothed his beard smugly. “My beard is quite nice thank you. I’ve been cultivating it since before you were born.”

“Wi’out a bloody doubt.” Snape replied. He some how managed to slur and sound droll at the same time. Albus had to admit he was very impressed.

Albus sighed and gave Severus a more serious look. “When are you going to stop doing this to yourself Severus?”

Snape grabbed the bottle of muggle brandy he’d been drinking and refilled his glass. He downed half the contents and then attempted to give Dumbledore a hard stare. His eyes crossed at the effort.

“I’ll stop, when I bloody well feel like it Albus. No’ a damn minute ‘fore. So…shove off ya poof.” Severus said loudly. The room had started slightly and he tried to sit down. Then he remembered that he had never stood up.

“I’m a poof? Severus, please try to remember where your son came from before you start throwing insults next time.” Albus laughed.

“Minerva went away. Bloody hell, why won’t you go away too?” Snape demanded irritably.

“Minerva only finds tormenting you amusing when you are sober. I find it amusing at all times.”

“You sadist.” Snape mumbled, finishing off the contents of his glass. He was really drunk now because Dumbledore’s eyes were starting to remind him of Jamie’s.

Dumbledore laughed as Severus swayed and cursed him. “I can’t seem to help myself. As long as you continue this,” He waved a wrinkled hand at the empty bottle of muggle scotch and the nearly empty container of brandy. “Well, then I shall continue to amuse myself with watching you drink yourself into a stupor.”

Snape gave him the glare he reserved for his most hated students. He emptied the rest of the brandy into his glass and downed it in one gulp.

“Fine. Have fun.” He snapped as his room started to spin out of focus.

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