The scarred pigeon trilled softly to himself. He'd been called many things in his life, The Chosen One, The Bird Who Lived; titles he didn't feel he deserved. Yes, he'd defeated Birdemort, but he didn't feel particularly accomplished because of it. He'd had help, and he'd still had friends die or lose their nests in the long and bloody war.
If there was anything Beaky Potter felt, it was lonely. Fame hadn't brought people close to him, if anything it had pushed them away. The friends who stood beside him in the war – fought beak and feather with him – had moved on, leading lives separate from the mission that had guided them for so long. Beaky was lost, the purpose that had driven him for so long leaving a gap in his life. At his worst moments, he almost wished the war hadn't ended.
There was a soft rustle of wings and a change of pressure beside him on the ledge; he didn't turn to look at the newcomer to his ledge. Beaky pushed his glasses further up his beak, pretending those weren't tears glistening in his beady eyes.
"Reminiscing, Mr. Potter?" Featherus Snape finally asked in his distinctive dry coo.
"Just thinking, Professor. Isn't that something you were always telling me to do more of?" The dark pigeon was a blot of ink on the building's ledge, his hooked beak the only spot of color. He still managed to look distinguished, even half-wrapped in shadow.
"Your atrocious essays in Potions aside, Mr. Potter, I never intended you to mope."
Beaky chose not to acknowledge the insult or the accurate insinuation he was moping. "Haven't we been through enough you could just call me Beaky, Professor?"
"Haven't we been through enough you could just call me Featherus?" he replied softly.
Beaky turned to look at Snape, who had his head cocked, an unusual glint in his eye. He stared at Beaky like a shiny object catching the sun.
"Point taken, Featherus."
"As is yours, Beaky," He still looked at the younger wizard with that strange hungry glint. Beaky shifted from one foot to the other, ruffling and smoothing his feathers, turning his head and preening.
"Don't you prefer corners of dungeons to open ledges?" he tried to tease.
Snape fluttered his wings in a quiet laugh. "Every pigeon needs to spread their wings once in a while, don't you agree, Beaky?"
This time, he didn't miss the challenge or the question in Snape's eyes. Without even thinking, he bobbed his head in enthusiastic assent. Snape wasted no time in launching himself off the ledge, circling Beaky playfully before flying upward.
Beaky lifted his wings, buffeting them twice before catching a draft and soaring. He followed Snape, catching up easily with the older wizard, twirling around him in the air.
As Beaky Potter flew off with Featherus Snape, not caring about the destination, he realized for the first time in a very long time, he was finally, truly, happy.
END.
