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Harry was sprawled over the lake bed with the breeze ruffling his hair as he relaxed on a hot summer’s day. The sun glared down, attacking Harry’s green eyes, and even with his arm over them, it was still extremely bright — completely opposite to what he would find in the dungeons of Hogwarts.
“The sun is too strong,” Harry groaned to himself.
“Then go inside,” said an unconcerned voice.
Harry took his arm off his eyes to see Professor Snape sitting against a tree nearby. Previously, he would have been concerned about Professor Snape lurking about, but since Snape had taken guardianship of him six months ago, he often found him keeping a watchful eye on him.
“Professor!” Harry said in surprise, sitting up and looking at him. He still hadn’t got used to calling him anything but that. “When did you get here?”
“A while ago,” Professor Snape answered, not looking up from Potions Weekly. Harry turned around to look at him properly.
“Is the sun not bothering you?” he asked curiously. The shade of the tree fell to the opposite side where Snape was leaning, and as usual, Snape was wearing his black attire.
“Not particularly,” said Snape, turning over a page.
Harry scoffed and laid down again, attempting to shield his eyes once more. It felt as if the sun glowed brighter in retaliation.
The tinkling sound of a bell rang, and Harry opened his eyes in surprise. Snape was now standing over him, Potions Weekly nowhere to be seen. In his hand, he carried a golden bell, the sunlight glinting off it and straight into Harry's eyes. A piece of toast was in his other hand.
Why was Snape holding a piece of toast? He didn’t even eat breakfast.
Snape raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Problem?”
Harry groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. The sun glinted. The bell rang.
“Will you stop that?” Harry said, his voice muffled. He didn’t want to get up; it was too early.
“Get up and go inside,” Snape said simply. “I will ring the bell each time the sun goes into your eyes.”
As if to prove a point, the sun turned the insides of Harry's eyelids red. The bell rang even louder.
“All right, all right,” Harry murmured, opening his eyes. He had to shut them again as the sun blinded him for a moment. He opened his eyes cautiously. The ceiling of his room met his view with the alarm clock ringing obnoxiously loud next to him.
Harry turned over to check the time and turn off the noise.
5:00 am.
What was Harry doing here in his room in Snape’s quarters? It was the middle of the term, not the holidays.
It had been very strange for Harry when he was given a room in Snape’s quarters over the summer when his guardianship changed. Harry wasn’t sure what to think; it was dark and strange. His room was much bigger than the cupboard-under-the-stairs and Dudley's second room he had at the Dursleys’, and to be honest, Harry wasn’t sure it wasn’t a trap.
He remembered asking why he couldn’t stay in the Gryffindor Common Room, as that had been his first real home. But he’d been told that during summer and holidays, he was a ward of Snape, not Hogwarts.
Over the few weeks he was down here, he came to realise that Snape was actually looking out for him. At the end of the holidays, Snape had revealed that he'd advocated for Harry to move out of the Dursleys’ when he had found out about the abuse. Even so, Harry had so many questions about his parents and Snape, and his mother's friendship.
He now liked staying in the dungeons, as that felt like home, but also liked being in the Gryffindor Common Room.
But it was the ninth of January; he should have woken up in his dorm room.
Ninth of January. SNAPE’S BIRTHDAY!
With a jolt, Harry sat up. Last night, he had come down with the excuse that his hand hurt worse than normal after Umbridge’s detention and begged Snape to let him stay here. It was the first time he had asked specifically to stay here, so of course, Snape said yes. Harry would make sure that his birthday was unforgettable and try to repay Snape for all of his kindness so far. He felt his determination spike at the memory of his first birthday party Snape threw Harry last year.
He hoped that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be too suspicious about his absence; they were aware that he had moved homes, but the location hadn’t been revealed. Of course, Harry wasn’t sure how long he could keep the secret from his best friends; he had only been back to school for his fifth year for four months so far.
Harry groped for his wand by the bedside table and waved it to draw the blinds over his windows. He sighed in relief as the glare of the morning sun dimmed.
The windows were charmed to show the view over the lake — there was no view to be found in the dungeons. This was another little thing that Snape had done for him when he had come to live here in the summer. Harry didn’t complain much, but he had really struggled to get accustomed to the dungeons.
He jumped out of bed and braved the cold stone floors. Hogwarts in general was cold in the mornings, but the dungeons were particularly cold this time of the day.
Shivering, he grabbed the new fitted coat from the chair that Snape had bought him and slid it on quickly. He fingered the material as he went to the bathroom. It was warm and comforting.
Brushing his teeth, Harry sneaked over to Snape's door. The sound of snoring met Harry's ears, and Harry chuckled to himself. He could never get over the fact that Snape snored.
Satisfied that Snape was still asleep, Harry padded over to the kitchen. A sense of excitement filled him.
Harry was never up before Snape during the holidays, so Snape was usually the one to make them breakfast. ‘Them’ was a stretch; all Snape had was tea, but he insisted on making Harry eggs and porridge every morning.
“You can't afford to miss meals,” Snape had scowled over Harry's head one morning when Harry insisted yet again that tea was fine.
Though Snape rarely had a proper breakfast, Harry knew Snape sometimes liked to have a full English breakfast, and that was what Harry was planning to make. He hadn’t been required to make breakfast, or any meal, since moving in with Snape. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten how to do it.
He opened a can of beans with his wand and directed them over to pour themselves into a pot. The pot floated over to the stove, which Harry lit with a quiet Incendio.
Next, Harry took out the bacon, sausages, eggs, mushrooms, and tomatoes from the fridge and put them on the side. He took a moment to double-check that he had everything before getting out the bread too. He wanted to make sure everyone was ready for when he needed it.
Pausing, he made sure that Snape was still asleep before heating up the oil in a pan. Within moments the aroma of frying bacon and eggs filled the air and Harry screwed up his nose in distaste. The last time Harry had smelled that was the day before Snape had come to fetch him from the Dursleys. It was not a happy memory — he could still hear the voices of the Dursleys criticising everything he did.
He didn’t waste any time adding the tomatoes, mushrooms, and sausages in the pan, listening to the sweet sound of the sizzling. He started to smile as he realised this was the first time he had enjoyed making breakfast. He just hoped Snape appreciated it.
It wasn’t long until the fry-ups were nearly done. Harry waved his wand over the bread, which instantly gained a crispy golden crust.
The water in the teapot Harry had placed on the kitchen table began steaming, and cutlery floated out of their cabinets and laid themselves neatly on the table. This was the scene that Snape walked into, hair and clothes rumpled with sleep. The corner of his mouth was streaked with toothpaste.
Harry watched half in fascination and half in amusement as Snape stared around him and walked towards the table as if he were in a dream. Harry decided he would never get used to a less-than-put-together Snape.
“What's all this, then?” Snape asked, his voice as immaculate as ever. Harry felt a stab of jealousy; he needed an hour before his voice sounded awake enough for polite company.
“Breakfast,” Harry said, waving his wand. The teapot filled Snape's cup, and the milk added itself — just a dash and no more.
“I can see that,” Snape said in a deadpan tone. He pulled his mug towards him and wrapped his hand around it. His fingers turned red from the blood rushing into them. “What's the special occasion?”
“It's your birthday!” Harry said.
“Must you be so chipper?” Snape complained, but his lips twitched up into an amused smile. “So, my present is being forced to eat an ungodly amount of greasy food first thing in the morning and put up with a teenager high on excitement?”
A few short months ago, that would have wiped the smile off Harry's face. Now Harry just laughed. He turned his attention back to the cooking, serving Snape first: three pieces of bacon, a couple of sausages, 2 eggs, a selection of tomatoes and mushrooms, two slices of bread, and a friendly portion of beans. He placed it on the table next to the tea.
“You should have done your research properly.” He grinned cheekily before serving up his own plate.
“I will keep that in mind next time I am mad enough to take up guardianship of my most annoying student.”
Harry gasped in mock outrage. “You wouldn't!” He placed down his own plate and sat opposite Snape.
This was something he was not used to. Sitting opposite the man who he had originally thought wanted him dead, but was now someone who he was increasingly enjoying company with, still sometimes felt strange. While they usually ate quietly and without eye contact, Harry couldn’t help but watch intently as Snape ate his breakfast.
It seemed that his favourite parts were the toast and eggs, as that’s what he ate first. And it appeared that he wasn’t fond of the tomatoes; Harry would make them a different way next time.
There were a few minutes of silence, except for the clinking of cutlery as Snape and Harry worked through their breakfast.
“This is not your present,” Harry said suddenly, remembering Snape's previous question.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “It's a very thoughtful not-present.”
Harry blushed and looked down at his plate, suddenly unsure. Would Snape like the evening Harry had planned for them? Perhaps Harry should have invited Professor McGonagall? Or should he have ordered a real birthday cake?
Before Harry's thoughts could spiral further, Snape spoke.
“Harry, whatever you have planned, I assure you, I will like it — more so for the fact that you've planned it.” Snape suddenly got a horrified look on his face. “It's not a party like your birthday was, is it?”
Snape had thrown Harry his first-ever birthday party last June. He had spent most of it hiding in the kitchens pretending to prepare snacks, though the house elves had everything ready days before the event.
Harry let out a wet laugh and shook his head.
“No one but us,” he promised.
Snape let out an exaggerated breath. “In that case, carry on.”
Harry's smile warmed up the dungeons brighter than the sun in his dream.
That was the first birthday breakfast that Harry had made for Snape. The second year, Harry made a Full English Breakfast again, but after that, he began to mix it up — Pancakes from scratch, French toast, and scrambled eggs.
It became one of their favourite traditions.