Chapter Text
Septimus doesn’t write a diary, even though he thought about it. It’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to pour his thoughts on paper. What if someone would find it? Merlin, what if his dad would find it? No, no, no, that’s why Septimus keeps his thoughts in his mind, where they belong. Nobody needs to know them. Well, maybe he doesn’t actually have thoughts; they're more like feelings, feelings he can’t describe in words. That’s where music comes in. Gods, his story is so unorganized, let’s get to basics for once!
Septimus Snape is his full name. This name. Everyone knew him when he came to Hogwarts for the first time. Like the last name means something. Like he means something. Septimus’ parents are not together, fortunately. He knows how they interact and he wouldn’t like to experience it every day. Okay, but how was Septimus Snape born?
Severus knew it was a mistake, that whole night was a mistake. But he was young and stupid and definitely drank too much. And she was there. Too drunk to care who he is. But Severus saw the hesitation in her eyes when he took his clothes off and it stung. She touched him like he mattered, like he was a good person. He couldn’t stop the pathetic shivers and whimpers. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, that’s what he is. He barely registered her words. “I don’t take pills”. Good, he thought. No drugs on board. Pathetic idiot. Such an idiot. Why would he think about drugs? Well, it took her two months to finally let him know. Merlin, Severus as a father? He stood by her side, was there for every appointment, every breakdown. Maybe it wasn’t enough. She didn’t touch him much, only when necessary. Arguments were on a daily basis. Pregnancy hormones, he thought. But her words would ring in his mind for days. I wish I never met you. I hate you. Pathetic idiot. Yeah and this loser of a man became a father on 28th of November. This little creature in his arms was so fragile. His son. Severus couldn’t stop the tears. His baby. They finally split not long after Septimus’ second birthday. Severus didn’t care. Didn’t care that he’s alone again. Didn’t care when his baby asked “where’s mommy?”. Didn’t care about his own tears. He knew that’s the best way, they weren’t happy with each other. But loneliness still hurt. Septimus would only spend weekends with his mom. She didn’t want him, but law is law. And Severus tried hard for his son to have a bright childhood. Septimus wasn’t sure.
Was his childhood happy? Unusual, yes, but happy? Maybe. Dad was quiet, a bit distant, but not cold as other people perceived him. Never cold to his child. Mom was… well, she was. Not present enough. “She’s a busy woman.” his dad always said. Yeah, he was right, she worked for the Ministry of Magic. But was that an excuse? He didn’t like weekends, didn’t like visiting her flat. Every room is grey, sad and stinks like cigarettes. While dad’s house is home, familiar. Old and dark, but comfy. He knows every corner and every corner reminds him of something. Like when dad tried to make gingerbread houses with him in the kitchen, but they poured too much frosting and it flooded the tiny houses. Or the armchair in the living room, where he always sat in dad’s lap when he read him stories. Home. Familiar. His room wasn’t that bad either, full of posters and other trinkets. Dad introduced him to muggle bands. That’s what the posters are about (and half of his t-shirts). Dad can be fun. He takes him to concerts. Real, badass, club concerts, when he can scream his lungs out. Severus may not scream out the lyrics, but Septimus is sure he sees his dad doing eety beety, tiny headbangs. That counts. And dad is honest. Loving. Septimus may be a teenager, but he still secretly likes when dad pulls him into hugs. Yeah. Septimus Snape. Not the perfect child, not a perfect student and not a perfect Slytherin. But a perfect… something. Definitely a perfect example of what his father isn’t. Septimus is lively, loud. But looks like a copy of the Potions Master. Long, black hair, pale skin, hooked nose, slim body. Just his eyes are different. Blue, like his mother’s. Too bright to comfortably keep eye contact with him. What about friends, you may think. Severus thinks his son has too many. Where do all those kids come from? All the freaks and weirdos of Hogwarts are friends with Septimus Snape. The fact that he’s only in the fourth year doesn’t matter, he knows how to unite people. Great friend, great student, great Quidditch player, so what’s about him that doesn’t make him perfect? Well, the rebellious side. The one that makes him paint his nails. The one that makes him roam around school halls in the night. The one that gives his father a headache. Septimus’ friends are scared of the potions professor, but he obviously isn’t. Ugh dad… don’t be so boringggg… we’re just having funnnn… while his friends stand on the side almost shaking from fear. Not like he’s much of a trouble maker, but come on, he needs to have some fun, right?