A Book Not to Be Published

Dear Diary,

Today I gave birth to the most beautiful child I've ever seen. Some may call it a mother's bias, but I care little for what others may say, he is my son, and I think him the sweetest creature I've ever laid eyes on. Only hours old, and he bears a remarkable resemblance to his father, full head of black hair and all. Pity he even inherited that overly endowed nose as well. Perhaps he will prove to follow my temperament.

I had my heart set on the name Marcus, but Cephius insisted on naming him Severus. I'm not entirely sure I prefer the choice, but I know better than to argue with the man. It would be far easier to tame a manticore.

I am currently suppose to be resting after such a long day in labor, and I admit I barely have the energy to lift this quill, but I could not in good conscience fail to write this first entry in the diary I bought eight months ago for this direct purpose. I refuse to let my son's early years pass by without record, and clearly his birth should begin such a tale. From the vision of him sleeping like an angel only a few feet away, nestled in the bassinet next to our bed, I can only see happiness in my future. Parenthood is such a blessing, I can't imagine why some would deem it a curse.

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Dear Diary,

Cephius has surprised me by actually taking some role in his son's care. I knew from speaking with his mother, that his own father had done little more than donate his seed in Cephius' case. I, of course, made no protest when he insisted on taking little Severus for a walk this afternoon. He thought he could spend some time alone with his son and lull the child to sleep all at once. If he decided to regale the poor dear with another telling of his time in Budapest, I'm sure Severus slept soundly in his father's arms.

Feeling there would be no cause for alarm, after all, Cephius is a grown man, and a brilliant one at that, I decided to take a time for myself. That, and there was also Nipty, who was sure to follow their every step. Since his birth, she has kept a watchful eye over Severus, taking her duties all too seriously. I honestly don't mind since I remember Tuttles being my constant shadow as a child myself.

But anyways, I then sat down in the library and began reading. I had lost all track of the time, and before I knew it, I had finished ten chapters and two hours had flown by. I would have most likely continued had it not been the ear piercing scream that startled me so badly, I nearly dropped the book to the floor as my heart leapt into my throat. Slamming it shut I jumped to my feet and went dashing towards the sound of Cephius' wild exclamations. As I dashed up the stairs and down the east wing towards the nursery, I had a million horrific thoughts whirling in my head.

Was there an intruder?

This was unlikely seeing as the mansion is unplottable with enough wards to keep Cephius busy reinforcing them every day or so.

Had Cephius forgotten the baby somewhere in the gardens?

Though it wouldn't be unlike my husband to be letting his temper out on anyone and anything convenient at the time, I doubt he wouldn't be rushing after the child if he had.

Despite the volley of questions and reasoning running through my mind, nothing prepared me for what my eyes encountered. Cephius in his favorite black robes, a good deal of greenish 'mess' running down the front them, his hands held out before him, covered in the foul smelling liquid, staring at them as if he expected them to either fall off or melt away at any instant as a crying Severus lay on his changing table, the spell on his nappie having apparently worn off. That or the child had quite a lot more than the cloth could hold, even magically.

I couldn't help the laughter erupting out of my mouth as I took in the sight of my husband covered in his son's excrement. The look of horror and repulsion was absolutely priceless, and though it would humor me, I had the sense not to dare take a photograph. Never has the man raised a hand to me, but I'm fairly certain that would have earned me a thorough hexing.

It was while my husband's face began to turn a dark red that I summoned Biddy and had the elf clean and tend to Severus while I tackled my husband. Getting him to calm down before furnishings were blasted to bits would be an undertaking needing both of my hands, and every once of patience I own.

"That CHILD was seconds from my changing him. SECONDS Idonea. And, and, I get... This!" I nearly had to bite my tongue in half to hold back the laugh in my throat.

"Cephius, dear, he's a babe. He has no control over when or," I had looked down at his soiled robes as I led him to our bathroom, "how much he goes. I'm sure you're not the only person to have experienced such an accident." The comment did nothing more than earn me a piercing glare and a good deal of dark muttering about how humiliation was not becoming a Snape. It wasn't until I helped him pull off his robes and turned to toss them into the hamper that I got to roll my eyes. I may have come to love the man dearly, but he is still insufferable.

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Dear Diary,

I am convinced this child will be the death of me.

Tuttles had fallen ill yesterday and I insisted she remain in bed. I came to regret such an action. Dearly. For this afternoon, after waking from his nap, Severus decided to hone his newly acquired skill of mobility by visiting his father's laboratory. Not even I have permission to enter that most sacred of spaces. Thank the deities Cephius is away on business.

I hadn't even heard the little sneak rise, nor his door open, but somehow that little slip of a boy made his way down the stairs and into the lab. I wouldn't have even realized this if it hadn't been for the strange violet smoke I saw drifting out across the corridor floor as I sat drinking tea with Adelina Crabbe. I hurriedly excused myself and opened the door to find Severus on TOP of the table, banging a wooden spoon against every vial, beaker, and tube he spied, various liquids splashing out onto the table and floor causing everything from plant life to smoke to rise from the points of impact. Even the sprouting ivy on the boy's arm didn't distract him from his 'work'.

Well, after a few second of hyperventilating, I ran to him, snatched him up, quickly discovering the ivy to be contagious, and turned to find Adelina in the doorway, enjoying the sight so well, she moments later made her own excuses and ran off to Merlin knows where to pass the story on. I doubt Cephius will go ignorant of the day's excitement for very long.

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Dear Diary,

Cephius has moved the laboratory to the basement, and has warded the stairwell so well, I walked past the door, perhaps two feet away from it, and found myself being tossed a good five feet back.

I, on the other hand, had to decline tea at the Malfoy's. That woman will find any reason to hitch her nose up at me and I'll not have Severus being used for such a purpose. It really wasn't that funny anyways, I have another week left of treatment for the ivy to be completely eradicated.

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Dear Diary,

Nipty is staying in the nursery from now on in the evenings. Cephius argued with me on this, but I put my foot down and was not having anything short of my demands. That elf will be sleeping in there until Severus is seven if I so order it!

This evening, I sat reading to Severus, and a large ember flew out of the fireplace and landed on the rug just a few feet from us as we sat together in the rocking chair. Before I had time to register the danger of the incident, flames erupted on the rug in a panic, all I could think to do was pull out my wand and douse it with a good stream of water. Thankfully, it worked and no real harm was done, but still, I don't feel safe leaving little Severus alone in there at night. Who knows what little accident may happen again and injury him.

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Dear Diary,

Today we celebrated Severus' first birthday. Naturally we invited most of the prominent families, and only now do I look back and wish such etiquette could be damned.

Cephius, being in his usual mood, thought it would be interesting to see our son's reaction to a charmed candle that would refuse to be blown out. I had misgivings and though I voiced them before hand, I knew that once his mind was set, there was no talking my husband out of it.

As we set, gathered around the large table in the formal dining room, Severus sat staring eagerly at his cake, the candle on top flickering slightly with the movement of air in the room. When the boy tried to blow it out as his father had taught him two weeks before, the flame went out and a second later, lit back up again. Well, at first Severus was confused by this, and tried again. A second time it relit. Now he stared at it a moment, trying to figure out what was happening, and then blew with all his might. When it relit a third time, I could see the frustration in his dark eyes. After living his Cephius for five years I know what that look often leads to.

Not surprisingly, Severus kept trying, getting more forceful and upset each time the candle relit. And then it happened. His face contorted into a look of pure hatred, since this blasted candle was keeping him from his cake, and suddenly this wall of water fell from the ceiling like one thick, single blanket of rain. Apparently he recorded my solution to the ember incident to memory.

The cake mostly washed down the table while all those assembled found themselves drenched from head to toe. Most of our guests handled it rather well, quietly drying themselves off with a charm or two. But not Malfoy. "Tell me, dear Idonea, did you arrange other entertainment for this evening, or was this the sum of it?"

I refuse to extend an invitation to that woman ever again. Had it not been for the fact that the Lestranges were there, I would have hexed her eyebrow off.

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