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Chapter Text

Potter and them might think he’s a tool, but he’s long since learned how to pay attention to his surroundings. He’d be damned if They caught him off guard anymore. He’s just trying to figure out what they’re playing at this time around.

It’s not an odd sight to find owls around Hogwarts. However, one could say, it is an odd sight to see them far after delivering morning mail and out of the owlery. He has seen that Barn Owl three times this week peering at him through a window or another. Anyone else might have missed it, but he’s trained himself to be alert in all corners of this god-forsaken school. He'll honestly say those Gryffindors have laid off a bit since the incident with Lupin, but he'd never unlearn that caution. It’s not like anyone else would protect him if something does go awry. Again.

He felt like the owl was watching him. Did Potter and Black train it to trail him? Both of them probably have the misdirected unwavering focus and wasted dedication to do such a thing. Why would they want to spy on him now? Is this payback for all the times he snooped on them? Are they bored again? Do they even need a reason? 

They probably still suspect him of becoming a Death Eater and want to get him in trouble for it. They’ve always accused him of it, they just want evidence. Honestly, Snape hasn't taken the mark or made any final steps to becoming a Death Eater, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested. Of course, Severus isn’t the only one in Slytherin thinking to become a Death Eater, but he’s sure those Gryffindor assholes don’t care. He’s the only one they've ever bullied, why change that now? He's low-hanging fruit. He doesn’t have the same support system as the others do. If he gets caught with a mark, he can’t buy or lie his way out. No, he'd have to wait until he graduates. 

He wasn’t even that serious about becoming a Death Eater until... until things broke off with Lily. Though, he was always curious about what they had to offer. Avery and Mulciber told him about it. He could become somebody. He could have power. The Dark Lord would keep him from being pushed around anymore. He would be given the means for his inventions to change the world. He certainly already had skills, but skills only get you so far when you lack status and connections in this world.

But he also had Lily to consider. He’s not ignorant to The Dark Lord's anti-muggle-born views. As much as he hates his muggle father, Lily deserved the best. He hadn’t realized he pushed her away so hard by associating with the Lord's supporters. Then he slipped up once, and she was gone for good.

Severus clenched the strap of his bookbag tighter. It just didn’t seem fair! She could be friends with T hem , his biggest bullies since day one, but when Severus got his own acquaintances, suddenly he betrayed her and they can’t be together. Who was he supposed to hang out with? No one else gave him the time of day! Lily doesn't understand. She's friends with everyone. Slytherins only have each other. So what if they want to use his talents for their Lord? For their own gain? Severus can understand that. He trusts mutual gain more than friendship for friendship’s sake, seeing as how that turned out. 

He ignores the pang of searing pain that grows as he thinks about Lily. He forces himself to focus on the bigger picture. His future. The wizarding world’s future. 

But now, now he could become a Death Eater with nothing holding him back. He wants to be a part of something powerful and impressive. He’s been hanging out more with other aspiring Death Eaters like Regulus and Mulciber to find out more about it.

Maybe that's why the Gryffindors are spying on him. To see how far he’s gone. 

Breakfast one morning found Snape with his nose buried in a book, ignoring the flock of birds trying to get feathers in his porridge. 

Severus does not get mail often. His mother doesn’t dare do anything even slightly resembling witchcraft around his father, and that includes keeping in touch with her own son by wizard means. They only contact each other in cases of emergency. 

Therefore, he was rather surprised when a familiar common owl perched directly in front of him and stared at him expectantly. After a few startled seconds, he looked around at his classmates to see if any were missing a very wayward owl. When it became obvious the bird wouldn’t go away on its own, he cautiously reached for the scroll tied to its leg. 

At this point, he hadn't seen the owl for a while. He had pushed it to the back of his mind in favor of focusing on more important things. He hadn't considered the owl would actually be trying to deliver something to him, but even if it was, why did it take so long to finally drop it off?

Dear Sebastian,-

Ah. It wasn't for him. He couldn’t fully suppress the pang of pain at that. Of course he didn’t get mail. No one wants to write to him. Not even his own mother. He continued reading anyway because if they were going to interrupt his meal (and have their bird stalk him), they didn’t deserve privacy.

How are you, my friend? I hope you are well-

This handwriting is atrocious. Now that he thought about it, Severus isn’t sure there is a ‘Sebastian’ in his house. Maybe in one of the other houses? He turned the paper over to see it was addressed to ‘Sebastian Stripe’. Hm. Maybe that's why the owl misdelivered it? Misunderstood the name?

I’ve been thinkin about all you have done for me to get me here. I know you’re probably rolling your eyes already at me for wanting such an odd job, but I truly am grateful! I love my feet in the grass and my head in the clouds. Exploring is in my nature! Oh, if you could see the kinds of wild creatures, plants, and beings I’ve come across already, you surely wouldn’t scoff at me so. You have fun at your office job, staring at the same plain walls everyday, sitting on your comfortable pile of galleons. We have magic! Why must you limit yourself so?

Snape eyed the owl, wondering why it hasn’t left yet. He hopes he’s not expected to write a reply. He doesn’t want to have to deal with this owl’s mix-up.

Oh, I’m sorry, I did mean for this to be a positive letter. After all, the reason I’m able to be here is because of you. The reason I write to you now is because I’m about to go explore the hidden creatures in Australia! Yup, I’m leaving home town for good! There’s nothing there for me anymore except more plain walls and more plain people. Untoward towards the unknown! Or at least unknown for me. 

Snape really wishes the owl would leave soon. Most all of the other owls have left and his classmates are starting to stare. 

You might be wondering why the owl is still there. Well, my friend, since you’ve given me so much, I thought I’d give something in return! It may not be much and it may not be something interesting I’ve found on my travels, but i’m sure he’ll compliment your plain walls. You see, my dear owl cannot come with me. There simply is no place for him where I’m going. And as much as I love you, I’ve vowed to let go of my old life completely. There is no one I will need to contact, nor will I send him across such a long distance overseas. 

I know he has a tendency to misdeliver letters on occasion, but you have expressed interest in getting your own owl, have you not? And he is plenty affectionate and soft. I’m sure your nephews will love him!

Much love and appreciation,

Harold Pierce

Snape put the parchment down to look at his new problem that hasn’t moved. Yup, he’s going to have to deal with this. Sometime during his reading, the blasted thing inched toward his plate and was eyeing his food. He gave it a piece of bacon in hopes that that was what kept it from leaving him alone. His efforts had the opposite effect and now the thing was cuddling into his hand. 

“Who’s it from?” asked a familiar voice. Narcissa was leaning across the table as much as her perfect posture would allow, looking from the letter to the poor excuse of a delivery owl. He noticed those around him were pretending not to listen in.

“It’s not for me,” Snape responded.

“Not for you? Well, who else could it be for?”

“You know a Sebastian Stripe ?” He didn’t think it was a student by the looks of the letter but if anyone knew them, it’d be Narcissa.

Narcissa tapped her finger to her chin and looked thoughtful. “I can’t say I do. At least no one in this school goes by that name. What did they want?” 

“Apparently I have to figure out what to do with this owl now because it’s not going anywhere.” He gestured to the bird that was now rubbing against his arm where it was resting on the table. 

Narcissa giggled. “Well, it doesn’t look like it wants to go anywhere. Quite the affectionate one, hm?” She reached across the table to gingerly pet the owl’s head. It allowed it as it closed its eyes at a particularly pleasant scratch, leaning its head into her fingers. Snape didn’t think Narcissa was one to touch anything remotely unclean, but the thing was admittedly soft. He experimentally poked his finger into its chest the watched his finger disappear into the fluff.

He sighed and turned to the bird. “Go to the Owlry. I’ll come by tonight to figure things out.” The bird looked at him stupidly before stretching out to take flight out of the Great Hall and finally leaving him in peace. 

He released another sigh as he turned back to his book. There was only one feather in his porridge, but still one too many.

Snape almost forgot about that morning’s spectacle completely by that afternoon. The only reason he didn’t entirely bury it was that he saw the owlry tower out of the corner of his eye as he passed a window. It was after classes already and he was going to study in the library, so he decided to write a letter then. 

Dear who is hopefully Sebastian Stripe,

I have found myself on the receiving end of a letter that is clearly not meant for me. It appears a friend of yours, Harold Pierce, is moving to Australia to explore. He wants you to know he is thankful for whatever it is you’ve done for him and has decided to gift you the owl that has delivered this letter. Although, if you take my advice, it doesn’t seem to be very good at delivering letters.

Good day.

Snape didn’t even consider giving them his name. The less involved he is in this, the better. He rolled up the parchment and stored it, sure to send it later that evening with the bird-nuisance. 

By five days later Snape once again blissfully forgot about the whole debacle. When he finds himself accosted by the same owl he sent away days ago, his first assumption was that the blasted thing sent the letter to the wrong recipient again and Snape has to clean up the mess once more. However, as he read the message, the trip seemed to be successful. Just not successful enough. 

This letter was much more legible. 

Dear recipient, 

I am sorry you seem to have somehow gotten mixed up in our exchange. The letter must have been an interesting one. Pierce always was the eccentric type. 

To cut to the chase, I know this owl. As you can see, it’s not the most accurate owl, and this is not new or uncommon behavior. It is not a reliable form of delivery. I am going to be quite frank with you.

I do not want this owl. 

I hope I don’t sound too rude. I’m sure Pierce had good intentions gifting me this menace, but I do not have the time to take care of this needy bird. As soft as it is, my plate is too full to cater to the whims of a cuddle bug. However, it appears returning it is out of the question.

Perhaps you may have use for a companion or have unimportant letters to deliver, Stranger? Or you may pawn it off to a pet store. I don’t much care. I simply had to get it out of my presence as soon as possible because it gets attached easily. I’m not sure how it’s fairing the loss of its previous owner but a familiar face might be a comfort and I don’t want that.

Do be warned that this owl will demand attention every day regardless of how busy you are. Though, If you give it access to the outdoors, it’ll feed itself. 

I really must send this letter off now. I’m afraid it’s starting to make a nest in my paperwork.

Good luck, 

Sebastian Stripe

Great. Now he really is stuck with this owl. Why couldn’t this prick have just given it to a pet store, himself? Clearly, these Harold and Sebastian fellas weren’t as close as he thought. He grumbled as he put the paper away and made eye contact with his newfound problem. Of course it was still here. 

Snape doesn’t exactly have the freedom to waltz down to the pet store to get rid of it. However, he could donate it to the school and leave it in the owlery and just… be sure to avoid it. It’s not like he sends a lot of letters anyway. RIP to anyone who does choose this one, though.

The owl slowly inched closer to him again until he gave in and offered it some of his sausage. The owl made some happy noises and puffed up before becoming bolder in its approach to be petted. As Snape petted it, he wondered if maybe he should heed Mr. Stripe’s warning and not give it attention. Maybe it was too late for him. 

He continued to pet the stupid thing and once again marveled at how soft the feathers were. People around him were looking again as by now, the owls were supposed to be gone. He pulled back. 

“Go to the Owlery,” he said, and it reluctantly flew away.

The very next morning brought that damned owl back to him. 

“What is it, now ?” he exasperatedly asked out loud despite not expecting an answer.

The owl was letter-less. It was just the owl and its audacity. Not that he expected it to have anything, but why was it here ?

Some of the classmates sitting around him snickered. They seem to have gathered that he was having bird issues- and not the kind most boys in his year were having. 

“What is it here for this time?” Narcissa asked, curious.

“To make my life more difficult. I don’t know how to get rid of it and now it seems it won’t go away. It doesn’t even have a letter!” Snape exclaimed. He looked at its stupid heart-shaped face and unnecessarily wide eyes.

“Hmm. That is odd,” Narcissa hummed. She reached out to briefly pet the owl’s head. Snape had let her read the letters herself in the days previous so he didn’t have to explain. “I’ve never seen such an unprofessional owl.” She’s probably never seen anything unprofessional until she came to Hogwarts and met common children, but Snape wasn’t going to say that. “What’s its name?”

Snape paused at that.

What was its name? Now that he thought about it, neither of the letters mentioned a name for the pet. That seemed kind of odd considering it was the subject of both. Did it not have a name? 

Once again, matters were thrust upon Severus’ shoulders, and thus, he must provide a name. This was an unintelligent bird and deserves a name reflecting such. Something obvious to the educated that flies over the heads of those also imbecilic. Ah- he knows. Any wizard worth their salt knows Latin, especially considering most spells are based in such.

“Whatever its name was, it’s Stultus now,” Snape decided. Narcissa covered her mouth to hold in a surprised snort. 

“What a charming name. A kind, benevolent owner, you are,” she said, amusement lining her voice.

“I am no owner,” he countered.

“You just named it. And neither the previous owner nor the intended recipient seemed intent on keeping it. Not to mention it seems to have grown a liking to you-” She eyed where the bird was affectionately rubbing its head into his sleeve. “You are its new owner.”

Snape grunted. “I never should have given it food.” Narcissa gave a delicate chuckle. 

Severus looked down at the bird with something akin to begrudging defeat. He supposed it’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. He doesn’t want to take care of it, but he assumed the owlery would do that, not to mention the letter said it’d feed itself.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but there was something flattering in being chosen by something.  Snape ran his fingers through its plumage and the bird made a sound and leaned into him more. He let out a very put-upon sigh.

He guessed he’d have to check out a book on how to care for owls now. 

Chapter Text

It is often, when one sleeps in a new place, that they wake up disoriented and lost. It is also often that they eventually remember where they are and how they got there. It is not often, however, that the recently-awoken becomes more confused, as they have found themselves in a country different from the one where they currently lived.

It took a while for Harry’s brain to catch up with his eyes. 

Hogwarts? 

How on Earth did he end up here? Last he checked, he was at home with Severus.

Right?

A pinch to his side confirmed he was, in fact, awake. 

Well, Harry supposed he could wake up in worse places. At least he knew where he was, if not how in Merlin’s name he got there. 

As much as he kept telling himself this, he couldn’t shake a feeling of dread. It’s been a couple of months since he last stepped foot in the school, and despite the castle being like a home to him in early years, it’s felt different as of late. He’s not sure if that was due to the fact that Voldemort and his Death Eaters invaded the place and killed a bunch of his friends, or the change in his attitude towards his late headmaster once he found out he was planning his death for a while. Regardless, the sanctity of Hogwarts felt tainted, somehow. 

Harry peeled himself out of the grass fully and sat up. His shirt stuck to him with something akin to morning dew, then he realized the soft light in the sky indicated it probably was morning dew. How long was he out?

A look around showed the castle was back to its pre-battle glory. The people rebuilding the school must have worked fast for it to look like this already. He supposed they had to have, so the school could go back into session sooner. Harry didn’t bother actually attending his seventh year, himself. Severus helped him study in private so he could pass his NEWTs, and that was the end of it. 

Leave it to a man as smart as Severus to teach an entire year's worth of curriculum in several subjects. Once they started having a better relationship, Harry found out the man actually was a good teacher, he just didn’t have the patience for most “dunderheads” as he called them (he ignored how that had included himself).

Now that he thinks about it, this will be the first time since the aftermath of the battle that he was in public. Harry hovered around his patch of grass, unwilling yet to face the bunches of students and professors who will surely flank him with praise and questions. 

Harry and Severus have been hiding away in Grimmauld Place he inherited from Sirius. They’ve spent most of their time renovating the place, which was a pleasant distraction as the world healed outside their walls. At first, Harry wasn’t sure about living there, but with the numerous protection charms to keep out the public and the hidden library Severus found and promptly fell in love with, he supposed it wasn’t so bad. Especially now, with the house renovated beyond recognition and Walburga Black’s portrait finally gone (they just ripped out the whole wall), any link it had to the war was gone and it was finally starting to feel like home. 

With all of that hiding from the public, Harry wasn’t exactly ready to suddenly be brought back just yet. He kept in touch with friends, of course, but he hadn't even picked up a newspaper in that time. Who knows what tosh has been said about him- let alone Severus- in that time. There would probably be an uproar about Harry Potter coming out of hiding. 

Harry took a deep breath. He just needs to get back to Severus. Severus would fix everything. He’s probably looking for him right now. 

Harry realized with a jolt that he didn’t actually have to deal with anyone. He almost forgot since he hadn’t used it in so long, but he could just fly up to the headmaster’s office. He had no qualms about seeing professor McGonnagal; she might be surprised, but he’s sure she’ll be welcoming. And discreet. He could just use her floo, as he’s sure she’ll let him. 

With that thought, he took another deep breath and began shifting. Feathers slid out from his skin and replaced his hair. He shrunk down as his nails grew into talons and arms into wings. Within seconds, he was a small barn owl sitting alone in the suddenly tall grass. A few silent beats of his wings, and he took off into flight. 

He knew where the headmaster’s office was from the outside, but he decided to circle around the castle a few times. He hadn’t felt the wind in his feathers in so long and Harry hadn’t taken his broom out since he lived in a muggle area and didn’t want to be spotted regardless. 

He still remembers the first time he truly flew in his animagus form, right next to Severus in his crow form. This is yet another thing Severus taught him, though it was during sixth year. He was with him through every step of the process. He helped charm the stupid leaf to the roof of his mouth. He helped him with the vial. He helped him through every incantation through the waiting period until an electrical storm finally hit. He remembers Harry’s animagus form actually surprised them both. What were the odds that they would both be birds? It felt poetic, in a way.

Things started changing between them that year. Ever since the fifth-year occlumency lessons, they started to see each other in a different light, even if the lessons ended in disaster. He felt bad for invading Snape’s privacy like that, but he appreciated the insight it gave him. For the first time, he realized Snape might have been a bad person for a reason. On the other hand, Snape realized how not spoiled he was growing up, contrary to his beliefs. Harry knows he compared him to his father and thought he’d be the same as how he knew him, but Snape had a paradigm shift during those lessons. They started looking at each other differently.

Then, during sixth year, Harry caught Snape transforming from his crow animagus form. Harry, not having known he was an animagus, decided to pester him about it. Snape hadn’t meant for anyone to see. He warned him to keep it secret and Harry realized he was likely an illegal animagus. Not cowering from a threat even when he should (as per usual), Harry asked what he’d do for him in turn. Eventually, he got Snape to begrudgingly agree to help him become an animagus, himself. Then, they would both have secrets that needed protecting. Problem solved.

It was during those moments, Harry started to feel a sort of kinship with Snape, something he thought he’d never feel. It was that year, they started to grow close to one another.

It was the seventh year that was difficult for both of them since Snape was still a spy and Harry didn’t know the whole story. He didn't understand why he killed Dumbledore or why he took over the school. It was a painful year for many reasons, and Harry suddenly found he didn’t want to think about it.

The sun was a little higher after he wasted some time in the air and Harry was sure McGonnagal would be in her office now. He finally surrendered from his procrastinating and landed on the ledge to one of the windows to her tower.

His thoughts were interrupted from figuring out what he’d tell her by a sight that almost made him shit himself.

Peering in through the window, it wasn’t McGonagall he saw sitting behind the headmaster’s desk.

Albus Dumbledore, himself, sat in his old office. The man who he watched die by Severus’ hand. The man he met in the afterlife. He was dead. He knew he was. He watched him die. He’s been dead for over two years now. He’s gone. Harry nor Severus have to do what he says anymore. They don’t have to blindly follow his orders anymore. 

So why? Why is he here? Why is he alive? 

Harry sat there staring for who knows how long. He’s glad he was in animagus form, staring through an owl-filter. He’s not sure how he’d fare with full-on human heart palpitations and hyperventilation. 

Dumbledore didn’t seem to know he was there, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge him. Good. He didn’t want to talk to him right now. All thoughts of talking to McGonagall or using her floo were gone. He had to figure out what was going on. Why was Dumbledore alive? Why did he end up at Hogwarts?

Was he looking at the past? Was this a memory?

He’s not sure how long he sat there for by the time McGonagall knocked on the door. She looked younger. 

“Albus, we have to do something about that lot! It’s far past time!” 

“What lot, Minerva?”

“Oh, Albus, don’t be obtuse! The kids I tell you about every year. Potter and them!” Harry’s ears started ringing at his own name. “As much as you favor them, they’ve gotten into far too much trouble. I found a book from the restricted section in one of their bags yesterday. How did they even get into the restricted section!?”

She’s talking about him? Books from the restricted section? He hasn’t taken books from the restricted section in a while.

“Not to mention Mr. Snape!” Harry jerked at the name. “He’s not usually trouble unless he’s messed with. They provoke him. Especially Mr. Potter. They get into tiffs every week!”

Harry’s stomach sunk. Tiffs? This must be the past if she’s talking about how he used to fight with Severus. He’s not sure if the public knows the full extent of their relationship since he doesn’t read the papers, but she should at least know they don’t fight anymore. Everyone saw him testify for Severus during his hearing to clear his name. 

Could this be a memory? He has to know for sure. He closed his eyes and tried to mentally straighten his back like he was coming out of a pensieve. Nothing. He’s not in a pensieve. Not to mention, when he pinched himself, he felt it. His stomach churns worse and worse with each passing moment.

He’s stuck in the past, isn't he?

How did he get in the past? Was there a time-turner involved like in third year? How far back was he? He tries to recall the last thing he remembered before coming here but it's all fuzzy. 

“Minerva, every school has its bunch of rascals. James and the others are good students. What’s the harm in a little bit of trouble?”

James? Who was James?

“Albus, you always undermine-”

Harry stopped listening. Wait a minute. James.

James.

James Potter.

His father.

Severus was the same age as his father. They went to school together. 

He was much further into the past than he thought.

Harry sat on the top of the astronomy tower, hugging his knees. Emotions hit a lot harder in human form, and they overcame him like a tidal wave the moment he changed back. He'd been paralyzed to the spot trying to process it all. 

He’s stuck in the past. But the worst of it all is that he has no Severus. Of course, Snape still existed now, but his Severus- with all the memories they shared- is gone. 

He thought about going to Dumbledore, but he doesn’t… trust him. If Dumbledore caught wind that he’s from the future, he’d likely use him to defeat Voldemort. Again. As much as helping to get rid of the dark lord made sense, Harry wasn't sure how that would affect the future. His interference may hinder them for all he knew.

Not to mention, Harry honestly didn’t want to lose what he had with Severus. They bonded through the mutual troubles Voldemort created. They may not end up together if Voldemort is defeated earlier. He knew Dumbledore wouldn’t care about that. He’s well-aware of what that man’s willing to sacrifice. 

He knows he’s just being selfish, but dammit, he’d already sacrificed so much and defeated Voldemort once, he’s not doing it again. He’d lost so many people and spent so much of his life facing Voldemort for the wizarding world. He’s not doing it again. He got one good thing out of all of that and he’s not giving it up. 

But without Dumbledore, he’d have to figure out a way back on his own. Harry curled up tighter as a fresh wave of dread enveloped him again. 

He just wants Severus. 

After a full day of moping and rotting away, he decides fuck it. He has to see Severus, in one way or another, even if it hurts. He’s not getting anywhere right now. 

So, he stalks him in his animagus form.

He watches him through the windows as he walks through the halls or during meals. He’s just what he’d imagine a teenage Severus would be. He’s mean and quick-witted with a sharp tongue. The main difference is his lack of confidence. He’s confident in his schoolwork, mind, but socially not. He also hasn’t perfected his mask of indifference, so his true emotions slip through sometimes.

He’s a painful reminder of what he lost, but he can’t tear himself away. Can’t deny himself this piece of his lover.

He does enjoy learning more about him, though. Snape keeps most of his past under wraps, so to see it in person is very special, much like the memories he showed him.

However, the day he sees Snape get attacked by his father and his friends, he decides to change tactics. He needs to have a more physical presence in his life. He can’t watch Severus struggle and not try to comfort him in any way he can.

He finds spare parchment and a quill in an abandoned classroom and hatches a plan.

It was difficult, Harry admits.

Not physically difficult, mind you. Holding an animagus form was not hard, and Harry had enough mental discipline to not lose himself completely. He would, on some nights, transform back into his human form to take a shower or eat a proper meal down in the kitchens. He usually used that time to search the library for something on time travel, with not many results.

No, it was emotionally difficult. To see Severus, but not his Severus. To see someone so similar yet so different. To know that his lover is gone. To know that everyone he knows is gone.

He wishes more than anything that he could cuddle up to Severus in his human form. To be loved as an equal, not treated as a literal pet.

Of course, he knew it would be like this as he can't come out to him. He also knows that he will take what he can get anyway.

Regardless of how difficult it is for him, he wants to do what he can for Severus. If cuddling an animal will help him with his emotions, he will be his emotional support pet.

If sometimes, he lets his owl-brain take over when it gets too rough, that's his business. 

Chapter Text

It started with the occlumency lessons fifth year.

At first, the lessons went as horribly as one would expect between the two of them. Snape would force his way through his mind with abandon, then berate him for not being able to keep him out. 

“Clear your mind,” he says before dragging all of his thoughts to the surface. 

How Harry was expected to simply allow Snape of all people to poke through his head was beyond him. Every lesson left him dripping with sweat despite not doing anything physical. He’s not even certain what it is he’s supposed to be doing. 

One day, things shifted. 

It was a particularly nasty memory Snape stumbled upon. He had been digging through his memories, looking for some secret to use against him, no doubt. Snape took sadistic pleasure in poking at particularly personal recollections of vulnerability. He wondered if it made him feel better about himself. Scenes flashed before Harry’s eyes. When this one came to the forefront, Harry struggled, but it only made Snape watch all the longer.

The memory was set at the Dursley’s. Snape was familiar with the place, at this point. He’d witnessed plenty of yelling and insults. Even a smack here or there. Nothing to make Snape look twice or ask a question about his wellbeing. Not that he expected as much from him. 

Harry was cooking lunch. What exactly he was cooking was fuzzy, but he remembers the skillet. Skillets are so heavy, especially for an eight-year-old. He moved to take it off of the burner but he grabbed the handle too close to the actual pan and it burned him. The skillet make a loud crash as it fell, and food littered the floor. Silence rang loud throughout the house. Someone turned off the radio. 

“Boy!” Heavy footsteps thudded through the floor. Harry contemplated making a run for his cupboard, but the way was blocked by Uncle Vernon. Harry forgot how big he seemed at that age. He grabbed him fiercely by the arm. “Dammit, Boy! You’ve ruined lunch!” Heads poked around the corner as Aunt Petunia and Dudley watched the spectacle. Petunia sneered. “And he’s made a mess of my kitchen,” she sniffed. Vernon’s face became almost purple with rage. That’s right, it was cheeseburger pasta, Vernon’s favorite. He had had a bad day, hadn’t he?

His grip felt, bruising, he remembered. It’s not often Vernon was too angry for words, but today he just jerked Harry by the arm and backed him up against the oven. Harry was frozen stiff as Vernon grabbed him by the wrist and elbow. The burner was still on. It was a gas stove. Harry’s screams ripped through the house as his arm was pushed onto the fire. 

Looking back, Harry could hear Petunia and Dudley gasp as she jerked him away. Harry was pressed to the burner for what had only been thirty seconds but he remembered felt like hours. Afterward, he was dragged straight into his cupboard crying, being told he wouldn’t have lunch for a month. He cried into his threadbare pillow, trying to keep the noise down. He knew by now what would happen if he didn’t.

Snape pulled out of his mind. Harry hadn’t thought of that day in years. He must have shoved that memory into the recesses of his mind. Harry felt his forearm where only a couple of pale bumps were left behind from that incident. He realized they looked at that memory longer than the others. 

Harry looked anywhere but his professor as he got his breathing under control. When the silence dragged on too long and he finally looked up, Snape's face was unreadable. He wasn’t expecting anything comforting, but he almost looked like he was about to say something not hurtful. 

When Snape finally decided what to say, he spoke up, “Potter. Do you… recall that memory?” At Harry’s questioning look he continued. “If I were to ask you about being burned as a child yesterday, would you have been able to recall that memory?” Harry was still confused.

“I… forgot that happened, if that’s what you’re asking?” 

Snape had a thoughtful look at that. “Are you aware of how occlumency usually manifests in muggles?” 

“You’ve lost me,” Harry said. His mind was rather fatigued at the moment.

“When one goes through a traumatic event, there are different coping methods the brain may take on to… protect the individual. Repression is one of them. The brain will bury a memory so it will stop tormenting them. That is called Involuntary Occlumency.”

The rusty gears in his brain started turning. “You’re saying I’ve successfully occluded before.”

“Yes. I’m not sure what that memory will do now that it’s been uncovered as you are likely strong enough to handle it now, but our goal is that. Try to replicate that behavior among other memories you don’t want Him seeing.”

That still didn’t really help Harry, but he supposed he had something to draw comparisons to now. Snape turned to fiddle with something on one of his tables. The silence stretched on again. 

“Potter,” Snape said, but then paused again, “how often were you sent to that cupboard? You seem to go there a lot.”

The question caught Harry off guard. He almost didn’t want to answer, sure that he’d be ridiculed, but he looked at the careful way Snape was speaking and the uncharacteristic lack of insults and decided to take a leap of faith. 

“I lived there.” 

Snape paused what he was doing. Without looking over, he asked, “for how long?”

Harry shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Ten years? I had always lived there until I got my Hogwarts letter. It was addressed to 'under the stairs'. They freaked out that they were being watched and gave me Dudley’s second bedroom.”

Harry couldn’t tell if Snape was more tense than usual or not. Still not turning, he spoke, “lessons are over today. You may leave.”

The next time they met up for lessons, Snape was more or less back to his usual self, but Harry could sense a change. There were fewer insults based on his arrogance and more based on his stupidity, which was… something. And when he searched through his memories, he seemed more careful about it, but that may have been just him. 

Despite their new tentative respect for each other, the lessons were still fruitless. Harry couldn’t get a grasp on what he was supposed to be doing. 

One day, it all came tumbling down. 

He knew he shouldn’t have done it. He had been told multiple times to not look into the Pensieve. But curiosity got the best of him. 

Harry took a look into a very private moment for Snape that changed his perspective on things. Students don’t often think of their professors as real people, he admits, but at that moment, Harry saw Snape as a person. An individual person with thoughts and feelings and reasons for those feelings. To realize that there may be a reason Snape is as cruel as he is hit Harry. That something made him that way, and that something may just be his own father.  

And then he was caught. Their lessons ended there. 

Things were sour between them for a while after that. Snape went back to insulting him during class and bringing up his father. Eventually, Harry had enough and went to apologize. Apologizing to that git was difficult, considering he made it very hard to want to. He had to keep reminding himself he was in the wrong and ignored the voice in the back of his head that reminded him he was wrong too. Snape was still snappy with him when he apologized but he persisted. He tried harder during Potions, studied more, and responded respectfully in class. 

Eventually, he thinks it paid off. Mostly. Harry thinks Snape was more conflicted than anything. He must have hated him more for not being what he expected. It must be easier to hate someone if hate is all you’ve ever known.

By the last month of the school year, Harry can say they’ve reached a mutual understanding between the two of them. He finds he rather likes it. 

Severus is not an owl expert by any means, nor has he had a private delivery animal before, but this bird has personality. 

This owl flies down every day during breakfast during morning mail time, and delivers nothing but receives many-a-pet, before flying back to the owlery, accomplishing nothing. People are starting to make fun of him. They probably wouldn’t if Stultus didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but the thing insists on staying far past when the other owls leave. 

Severus refuses to encourage this behavior and doesn’t pet the fluffy menace, but it doesn’t do much good. Everyone else at his table seems to realize what he’s doing because they all go out of their way to pet him. It seems like Stultus stays longer each day. Even when he pointedly ignores it, it’ll land on his shoulder and nestle into his hair. 

He wishes he could be mad at something so damn cute, but he feels more embarrassed than anything. If Stultus would just come to him when he’s alone rather than in front of literally everyone, he’d feel better.
But alas, Severus' life is plagued by misfortunes and inconveniences. 

Speaking of misfortunes, one of them has been eyeballing him all afternoon. Potter and Black have been sneaking glances at each other, in their own little conversation, before glaring at him. This usually means they’re going to take their anger out on him later. Snape keeps his guard up.

You’d think things would change after seven years. Then again, he supposed they did, just not by much. Snape figured once things... cut off with Lily, Potter would stop randomly attacking him out of jealousy. Heck, he even managed to date Lily (something he still hates to think about) but he still won’t leave him alone. Then, of course, there’s Black, but he’s never needed a reason. The two of them bounce off of each other in their hatred for him, their ire fueled by the other. Additionally, Pettigrew just follows them along because he has the independence of a newborn puffskin. 

Lupin is perhaps the only one that significantly changed. Ever since the wolf attacked him last year, he’s kept to himself. Considering how close-knit those four pains are, it was surprising he’d split from the group in that respect, though he still won’t go so far as to stop his friends. 

It’s not much of an improvement, considering the real misfortune is Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They’ve targeted him since the beginning. They’ll use anything as an excuse. His Slytherin status, his poor status, his lack of status. And after ruining his life multiple times, they’re still not satisfied. 

Sure enough, after his last class of the day, on his way to his favorite cloistered corner of the school, he’s ambushed. They jump from around corners to circle him. His wand is in his hand before he’s thought about it. 

“You’d think with the number of times he gets attacked, he’d stay away from deserted places,” Black sneered.

“You’d think with the amount of trouble you’ve caused, you’d stop testing me,” Snape sneers back. It wasn’t as good a comeback as he’d like, and Black laughs at him.

“C’mon, guys,” Lupin weakly protests from the sidelines, more spineless than Pettigrew. 

“Moony, why don’t you go back to the dorms without us? We’ve got some business to take care of,” Potter states, faux-casually. The wolf looks like he might intervene, but of course, he doesn’t. Just slinks away with his tail between his legs back to his den. 

The rest circle him. Pettigrew takes a stance behind him, as usual, while the other two cage him in from the front. He’d have run by now, but he refuses to show cowardice. If this doesn’t happen now, they’ll just come back soon after.

Severus already knew how this was going to go. Either Snape could use his knowledge of dark magic to gain an advantage, go up against Black’s familial knowledge of such magic, possibly win, but then get in trouble for using dark magic regardless; or he could play it safe so he doesn’t get in trouble with the school but get his ass handed to him, and they leave him alone for another week or two. He knew that the three that started this won’t get their proper punishment, anyways. Seven years taught him that. At best, they’ll get detention or lose house points and they’ll get him back twice as hard for it the next chance they get. 

Snape usually fights back with all his might. But he’s tired. He’ll never get the upper hand this way. If he wins he’ll get penalized for fighting from two directions. They got into a tiff not two weeks ago where they were caught by Professor McGonagall. She gave them all a day’s detention (including Snape) and it did nothing but spur the others to “get back at him” for it, never mind that it wasn’t his fault they got caught in the first place. Honestly, he prefers detentions from losing points, because then his house shuns him, too. 

Severus is alone in this. He learned dark magic to defend himself against these mongrels, but he forgot. He’s not just up against these four, he’s up against the entire school. The students, the teachers, the Headmaster- a biased Gryffindor. His own house doesn’t even care about him as long as he helps them with their work and they look like a unified house. Even Lily’s given up on him. 

But it’s fine.

All he needs is to be patient. 

He can’t wait for this to not be a problem anymore. To be a part of something great. Something powerful. When the Dark Lord is at his back, no one will have the gall to mess with him. He knows this to be true, as he knows his own worth. When the Dark Lord sees what he’s capable of, he will see the value in him and will protect him for it. He will let his talents flourish. His affinity for dark magic will be fed. Severus will be powerful by proxy. These Gryffindor Scum will be dirt beneath his shoe soon enough. They will not be able to hide behind the protection of Hogwarts forever. 

It is these thoughts alone that get him through the aftermath of that fight. He limps to his secluded nook. His true vengeance will take patience. He is not the same brash boy of his youth. He knows better now. This school won’t protect the likes of him. 

As he gingerly plops onto the stone bench, he tries to remember the healing and reparation charms he usually uses. He first surveys his re-gathered things and sets about fixing his book bag, making sure his textbooks were undamaged in the process. He then heals the gash on his cheek and feels himself for any bruising. By the time he’s repaired himself and his clothing to the best of his ability, he’s positive he looks presentable again. Or at least as presentable as he ever was. For his remaining burns and depletions, he’ll have to take some of the potions he’s brewed for occasions such as these. 

He sits there, alone in his nook, partially shadowed by a tapestry on the wall. With how many isolated corners there are to this castle, it’s no wonder the school’s had issues with horny teens doing things they shouldn’t since forever, but Severus is thankful. Though, he’d hate to be a professor on night duty. 

But as he thinks about horny teens, he thinks about Lily and Potter and what they may do, and he quickly distracts himself with studying. It is a common coping mechanism for him, to fill his brain full with so much information that it pushes out the bad thoughts. Though, he quickly finds it’s not working. He feels antsy. He’s still angry. His anger never truly goes away, but it’s back with a force right now. 

After a few fruitless minutes of trying to find some semblance of peace, he decided to get up and wander. He contemplates going back to his dorm, but he fears he’ll have the same problem there: his thoughts running amok in the silence. Not to mention, he doesn’t want to come into close quarters with people yet. 

His feet take him outdoors. There isn’t much for him here. People have already started migrating outside as classes are over. Of course, none of the friend groups want him around so he walks past them. 

He’s not sure what brought him to the owlery, but he finds himself climbing the narrow steps. He rarely comes here, especially in recent years. Aside from his mother, he only ever writes the occasional letter to Lucius. He used to enjoy writing. He thought owl deliveries were so unique and interesting. Until his mother told him to stop. Apparently, his father beat her every time he saw one, as he could tell it was a magical thing. ‘Owls aren’t supposed to send letters! What’ll the neighbors think, constantly being visited by owls in the middle of the day!’

The owlery feels smaller than when he was eleven. Owl-sized indentions filled with nests litter the walls. Severus is quickly barraged by multiple eager owls, probably wanting to get out of the tower for a bit. They flock around him, most settling at his feet. The less-ambitious (or privately-owned) ones stay perched on their places up higher. 

There is one excited owl that frantically flaps its way to the front. It is a screeching, plain-looking one that blends in with the others and it takes a second for Snape to recognize the annoying menace that accosts him at meals. He ignores the fact that he purposefully sought him out today. 

Stultus flaps dangerously close to his face, and he instinctively jerks an arm out for the owl to land on. The other birds settle now that it looks like he’s chosen a deliverer. Stultus seems to titter happily on his arm. Its grip is a little too tight, and he thinks he’ll have to repair the sleeve again. 

He’ll never admit it out loud, but having something be happy about his presence was... soothing. He feels slightly better as he finally gives in and pets through its plumage. The owl preens under his touch, closing its eyes to rub into his hand effervescently. Its feathers are slightly fluffed up and his hand almost disappears between the feathers. 

The other birds start flying back to their nests as they realize he doesn’t have a letter to send, but Stultus stays firmly attached to his arm. After a while, Stultus seems to calm down slightly and receive pets at a more normal level of enthusiasm. Its eyes seem to look at him properly, now. It tilted its head as it studied him. Severus read that meant owls were curious and they moved their heads to get a better look at the three-dimensional object they were viewing.

Can this bird sense that there’s something off about him right now? He understands owls are the most magical muggle creature (second only to cats) and are associated with wisdom, but how much do owls actually know? 
Or maybe he’s just overthinking things. He tends to get paranoid when he’s off-balance like this. He wonders who can see through his facade. That’s why he avoids people after he gets attacked. This is probably the first time he’s ever sought a living thing out. 

Eventually his arm tires, and he feels mostly stable again. He tries to shoo the owl back to its post, but it stays stubbornly. He then attempts to pry the talons away from his sleeve individually with little success. Next, he flings his arm around to dislodge it, but it only flaps some and bobs as it stays firmly attached. It continues to look at him innocently. 

He knew he shouldn’t have come up here. This thing was just looking for an excuse. He gave it an inch, and it wants a mile. In for a knut, in for a galleon, as they say.

He sighs, exasperated. He considers taking off his outer robe and swinging it around, letting the centrifugal force do the work, but Stultus flies up to his shoulder and seems to cement itself to the layers of fabric. 
Snape sighs heavily. He makes his way down the stairs anyway, hoping the dumb thing will realize it needs to return to its post, but it stays stubbornly. At the bottom of the stairs, almost back into the field, he shakes his shoulder in a last-ditch effort to shake it. The raw ball of temerity does not move. 

Great. People are definitely going to make fun of him now, or at least stare which is not what he wants right now. He sighs once more and turns his head as much as he can to glare at it. He opens the flap of his book bag.

“At least hide for now.” Stultus glances between him and the open bag multiple times in confusion. He eventually dislodges himself and flaps inelegantly into the bag. Snape lets out a breath. “Good.” The bird preens. “Now just stay quiet.” 

He makes it back to his dorm without any further disasters and Snape finally releases the tension in his shoulders. He opened his bag flap to see a heart-shaped face stare back at him. Stultus wiggles out and flies to perch on his desk, looking mostly unruffled. The flexible head swivels around, taking in its new surroundings. Then, they stare at each other.

What now? There’s an owl in his dorm. He doesn’t think underground dungeons are a good place for those. 
At least he has the room to himself so he doesn’t have to explain anything. Usually, Slytherins have a roommate, but since the prefects get their own room, their year of boys had an odd number. Thankfully, this year was his turn to have the room to himself, likely a poor excuse of an apology for almost being eaten last year. ‘If you let these kids almost kill you constantly, we’ll give you a private room!’ Geez. Nevertheless, it’s his one source of respite. 

Once Snape realized he was landed with an owl, he went to the library to study up on them. He still doesn’t want the owl, but he didn’t want to accidentally kill it either. He read that owls needed daily exercise by flying and hunting, and he doesn’t think it’ll get much of that here. Though Snape had the sneaking suspicion that Stultus will leave: when he does. 

He starts thinking through the necessities in his mind. He’ll sneak Stultus back out in the morning and it can fend for itself during the day, hunting for something to eat. If it releases itself in his room, he knows cleaning charms, but he should train it to defecate somewhere specific- maybe the trash. Also, he could stand to put some sort of water dish out. 

During his musings, he watched Stultus flap over to the small pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Such silent wings, owls have. Perfect for sneaking up on prey. Stultus tugs the fabric together into a pile before nestling into it, making itself completely at home. 

Snape motions for the bird to land on his arm before it can settle in too much. As it does so, he says, “alright. There are ground rules.” He points to the trash can. “If you must urinate or defecate, do it in there. Absolutely no soiling of parchment, clothes, or bedding.” The trash bin gets emptied once a week, supposedly by house-elves. He has to be careful what he puts in there sometimes, as he’s been known to dump failed experiments in a rage and then lament his missing progress when he cools down. Speaking of which, he points to the other desk, the one his supposed roommate would have. “That is my lab. Do not touch anything over there. Ever.” Those were the big rules, but he continued since he had its attention. “No destroying anything, don’t bother any of my housemates, and don’t do anything that would get you kicked out if you want to stay. Generally, keep a low profile while you’re down here.” He pauses, waiting for Stultus to turn back to him in expectation. “Got it?” Feathers fluff up. “Good.”

He released it to return to its new nest. Only time will tell if it actually gathered all of that, but it would give him an excuse to kick it out if it didn’t. He settled at his desk, intent to do the work he planned on doing before. 
He managed to work on his runes paper for all of twenty minutes before being interrupted. He felt a small gust of wind at the back of his neck and turned to find the Bird Menace perched innocently on the back of his chair. Very silent wings, indeed. 

“You’re the needy-est bird alive,” he says. Snape grabs the idiot around its middle and plops it onto his lap. The only protest was an unnecessary amount of surprised flapping before it stabilized itself. Snape turned back to his work and proceeded to ignore it. Stultus seemed to get the memo and settled down in his lap. 
Slowly, it tucked into itself, cuddling into the space between his thighs and his hunched torso. His cloak fell down his sides, creating thin walls for the owl’s makeshift nook. Stultus looked like a drowsy fluffed-up ball of feathers. Snape watched its big, green eyes slowly flutter shut. 

“Idiot,” Snape said. He stroked its soft feathers. 

Snape’s not sure what he was expecting the next day. He should have figured Stultus’ compliant behavior wouldn’t last now that it got what it wanted. 

He stood there for five minutes trying to get the damn bird in the bag again, but it refused to budge from his shoulder. He then tried to pry it from his form, thinking he could teach it a lesson by leaving it in his room all day, but it still wouldn’t budge. Eventually, Snape capitulated and offered a compromise.

“Alright, fine. Just be in the bag until we leave the dungeons?” Big, stupid green eyes looked at him stupidly before finally jumping into the bag like a flopping fish. By the time he got out into the corridor, the bulk of the students had already gone to breakfast. 

“Hey, Snape! Wait up,” Mulciber hollered, flagging him down. Oh, great, he’s going to ask for help on homework again. It’s the only thing he’s good for around here. The only time the others seem to want anything to do with him was for help or recruitment. “I need help with the transfiguration essay. Will you-”

It is at this moment Stultus decided to emerge from his bag and fly onto his shoulder. He sits there innocently, like he’s welcomed, and stares at Mulciber. They had just barely crossed the threshold that connected the dungeons to the main hall, technically having left the dungeons. 

He hates this bird. He hates this bird. He takes back anything nice he ever thought about this bird.

Mulciber stared uncomprehendingly for a moment before bursting out into laughter. 

The students in the hallway all turn to stare at them. Some stare quizzically at the out-of-place animal. Those who have sat near him at the Slytherin table know what’s happening and laugh too.

He hates this bird.

“Couldn’t get enough of your owl, Severus?” someone says when he arrives at the Great Hall.

“I think it has a crush on you,” someone else calls out. 

He sits down with a huff and ignores Narcissa’s stifled chitters. He pointedly ignores everyone, including the shoulder-squatter. It feels like everyone is making fun of him, even if it really is only a few. He could hear the Gryffindors laughing about something a few tables away and imagined it was about him. He tried to think about something else.

He thought about what he wrote in his potions textbook and how to try out his newest idea. He will try adding dragon’s blood, he’s decided, ignoring the gossiping girls a few seats down. 

The owls start flying in and suddenly, Stultus flies off of his shoulder and he wonders if he’s following them back to the owlery. He is not, he realizes as he watches the bird fly across the hall to... the Gryffindor table. 

Severus stared, baffled, as it landed in front of his sworn enemies. He wondered for a moment if he subconsciously sent a letter to them somehow. Perhaps he thought too hard about his hatred and the owl heard him. He watched as they looked curious about the bird that landed in front of them. They inspect it for a message and pet it when they find none. Snape watches his bird get pet by those jerks and fancies his bird a traitor. 

He’s already planning to drop Stultus off at the owlery after breakfast in petty revenge when it flies back to land on him again. Lupin follows the bird with his eyes while Black looks distracted by something amusing. Potter is talking animatedly about something and takes a bite of food. Everything seems normal for a moment.

“Eeuuuuugh!” Potter shouted. He spit out the food, jumped up, and flailed. He wiped his tongue in exaggerated disgust. Black and Pettigrew laugh with gusto. Even Lupin is chuckling behind his book. The whole Hall quiets to look at them. 

“What the fuck was that!?” The students near Potter look at his plate and begin snorting, as well. Black and Pettigrew are about a hair away from pissing themselves.

“Did I just eat shit!?” Potter shouts.

At that, the rest of the hall catches on and an uproar of laughter overtakes the hall. Even the teachers seem to be struggling to keep good form. A couple of kids point his way at the bird sitting proudly on his shoulder.

Snape put his hand over his mouth as he realized Potter literally just ate shit. Stultus’ shit. 

Alright, he admits the fluff ball is growing on him.

It takes him a while to realize he got out of helping Mulciber with homework.