Disclaimer:
I don't own Harry Potter ... or Severus Snape ... or Quirrell - even though I wish I did. I just like having them run around in my sometimes twisted little world.

A/N:
I wrote this a while ago for Angelines, who draws so well.
The title of the story I took from the song "Flying Dream 143" by Elbow.
The character name 'Gladiolus Thrip' is taken from the ITV series "Demons".

A big thanx to WeepingSupergirl for her help.

Flying Dream 143

Black coffee and blackberry muffins – Severus would have died for that right now. Not often did he indulge in such luxury, but on very rare occasions he did enjoy a bit of cake and coffee and today had been an especially stressful day.
Of course Severus knew that in everybody's life there were good days and bad days. The good days were rare and precious, the bad days occurred more often – at least to him. On these days everything went wrong. Beginning with getting up half an hour too late, being forced to skip breakfast and begin classes in a foul mood, which worsened with every second that passed. Bad days simply happen and there was nothing Severus could possibly do about them. But today was not such a day. Today it was worse.
All students of all houses seemed to have conspired against him and turned his classroom into a mess. Longbottom had blown up two cauldrons, the second one with a little help of Finnigan, and even if Severus hadn't had a headache before he would have it afterwards for sure.
Thankfully, classes had been finished for today, which left Severus with a huge pile of paperwork: notes for his classes and essays of all sorts, one probably worse than the next. Except perhaps for Granger, who normally did excellent work, which Severus didn't even dream of rewarding, of course. Granger was a Gryffindor after all and never, not in a million years, had Severus dared to award points or as much as an acknowledgement to a Gryffindor. His Slytherin pride simply forbade it.
With a sigh, but definitely looking forward for tea time, Severus put down his quill and tiredly rubbed his face with his hands. Then he rose from his chair to take himself to the Great Hall, looking forward to a nice cup of coffee and a blackberry muffin, but just as he reached the office door, a sharp knock on the small window pane made him flinch.
Confused Severus turned and startled he jumped back, when he spotted a huge shadow behind the window. An owl – he realized and sighed in relief, before he drew out his wand to open the window with a quick gesture. Instantly the window sprung open and a black ball of feathers stumbled into his office, clumsily, and landed on his floor with dull thud.
Severus frowned. Never in his life had he seen such a fat delivery post owl. The bird must have weighed at least two stones and obviously it had difficulties to get on its feet again. When the owl finally succeeded it just sat there, a letter in its beak, staring at Severus from huge amber eyes as if it expected to be carried to a place more comfortable, before it would even think about fulfilling its duty of delivering mail.
Severus rolled his eyes and gave in.
"Rather three or four stones," he mumbled under his breath as he picked up the bird and put it down on his desk.
Dignified, the owl ruffled its feathers and held out a sealed letter, with Severus quickly snatched out of its talon.
"It's from 'Press 'n' Print'," he said, excitedly, opening the letter.
But news didn't seem to get better today.
"Refused again!" Severus spat as he began to tear up the letter into tiny pieces. "These publishers don't know a good potions book if it hit them! 'Potential Points' – has anyone ever heard of a better title?"
"Hoo?" the owl answered, cocking its head.
"Oh, shut up, you!" Severus growled. "What do you know about writing, anyway? You can't even deliver mail properly! Three years I have been working on this book and I almost had a second cup of tea the day I finished it and now this damn publisher refuses it!"
"Hoo …" the owl answered, almost compassionately, but Severus was too angry to pay any attention.
"As if you knew what I am talking about!" he spat. "Now, off with you! I am busy!"
But the owl didn't think of leaving yet. It seemed to be quite comfortable sitting there on the desk as it looked at Severus expectantly.
"What?" he asked. "What are you waiting for?"
The owl blinked and pointed its beak toward a huge box lying on the desk that contained Scottish Shortbread, a Christmas gift from McGonagall, that Severus had stored for nearly two years, before he had decided to open it last evening, when he was too tired to attend dinner in the Great Hall.
"A biscuit?" Severus gasped. "You honestly want a biscuit from me? After the bad news you delivered you want additional payment?"
"Hoo!" the owl replied, nodding eagerly.
Severus inhaled deeply.
"Well, then!" he said with a mischievous grin. "What are you waiting for? Help yourself! You may eat the whole content of the box if you want!"
Incredulously, the owl blinked at Severus. Then, faster than he had expected of a bird that fat, the owl shuffled over to the half empty box of biscuits and neatly tore it open with its beak. Fascinated, Severus watched as the owl skilfully began to free the biscuits from their box and ate them, one after the next, until the box was empty.
"Did you enjoy that?" Severus asked, silkily. "Well, then, I hope you enjoy the digestion as well, because the biscuits have been expired for nearly half a year."
The owl's eyes widened in shock, but Severus smirked.
"One would imagine that post owls were able to read," he added, thoughtfully. "Obviously you can't – or you were simply too greedy! Now bear the consequences! I really don't envy you!"
Severus chuckled as he turned to leave his office, feeling at least a little better about his mishap with his book.

Certainly, one would think that things could only get better – only in Severus' case, they didn't. When he arrived in the Great Hall, his colleagues were already seated, the coffee was almost cold and nearly all blackberry muffins had been eaten.
"Just my luck," Severus muttered under his breath as he slipped into his chair.
There was only one blackberry muffin left on the plate and he was just about to grab it, when Dumbledore's voice made him loose his focus for a moment.
"What a pleasant surprise," he said, smiling at Severus. "Had I known you were coming I would have ordered more muffins."
McGonagall frowned.
"Since when does Severus care for muffins?" she asked.
Flitwick next to her shrugged.
"I guess he doesn't," he supposed, nodding at McGonagall and Dumbledore.
"W-W-Well, I c-c-care for m-m-muffins," Quirrell said, quietly, and before Severus could object, he had grabbed the last remaining blackberry muffin from the plate.
Severus could feel the small anger ball inside him growing as he saw Quirrell's pale slim fingers holding what was his, what he had been looking forward to the whole time and what would certainly cheer him up after the horrible day he had had so far.
"Release!" Severus demanded in a dangerously low voice, just in time before Quirrell could sink his teeth into the muffin.
"Huh?" Quirrell replied, confused.
"Put down the muffin at once, Quirrell!" Severus explained.
"Why?"
Severus narrowed his eyes.
"Because it's mine, that's why!"
"B-B-But I t-t-took it first!" Quirrell answered.
Severus inhaled deeply.
"Quirrell, if you don't want me to break every bone in your scrawny body, you better hand me that muffin this instant!"
Quirrell hesitated. Obviously, he seemed to consider the option of having every bone in his body shattered to pieces.
"Release the muffin," Severus hissed again. "Now!"
"Severus, I d-d-don't know …" Quirrell began, but Severus cut him off, instantly.
"I am not asking you again, Quirrell!" Severus warned. "I mean it – I will beat you into a pulp, make a meat pie out of you and feed it to …"
He paused just in time before he could give away the secret about Hagrid's three-headed pet dog – Fluffy, or whatever its name was – that was locked in the third floor, guarding the Philosopher's Stone that was hidden up there.
Fortunately though, Quirrell was intimidated enough by the threat that he didn't even responded to it, but he didn't release the muffin either. His hand was shaking, yet his fingers were still clasped around the muffin like a drowning man would cling to a straw. There was only one way to make Quirrell relinquish his hold of the muffin – violence – and Severus was not afraid to go that far, so he slapped Quirrell's wrist, hard.
Quirrell yelped in pain and finally dropped the muffin, which unfortunately did not land on the plate or on the table at least, but rolled over the edge and landed on the stone floor, leaving behind a few crumbs on the table.
"Now look what you have done!" Severus growled. "You wasted a good muffin!"
"B-B-But y-y-you h-h-hit m-m-me!"
"Damn right, I hit you," Severus admitted, merciless. "And I might as well hit you again for your clumsiness!"
"What is it over there?" McGonagall suddenly meddled into the conversation. "What's with your hand, Quirrell? It seems swollen!"
"Severus," Quirrell whispered, rubbing his wrist. "H-H-He h-h-h-it m-m-me!"
"Snitch!" Severus hissed.
"Is that true, Severus?" Dumbledore asked with a frown on his wrinkled face. "Did you hit Quirrell?"
"He took away the last blackberry muffin that was left there, Headmaster," Severus defended himself.
"B-B-But I saw it first!" Quirrell intervened, weakly.
"I presume you had two already previously!" Severus snapped back.
"N-N-No, three!" Quirrell said, matter-of-factly, but clasped his hand before his mouth when he realized that he had given himself away.
"There!" Severus maintained. "He had three muffins and I had none! And the last one is presently lying on the floor!"
"I am sure the floor is perfectly clean," Dumbledore added for consideration in a friendly tone. "It is still a good muffin, Severus, you may as well have it now."
Severus straightened himself.
"I am not eating anything that has touched the floor!" he stated, dignified.
"C-C-Can I have it, then?" Quirrell asked.
Dumbledore shrugged and looked at McGonagall. McGonagall shrugged and looked at Flitwick. Flitwick shrugged and nodded at Quirrell. Quirrell beamed at Severus, but Severus wouldn't stand for that.
"No!" he refused. "You heard Professor Dumbledore! *I* shall have that muffin!"
"Y-Y-You j-j-just said y-y-you d-d-didn't w-w-want it!"
"I *so* don't care!" Severus snapped, bending down to pick up the muffin. "This is mine and I will have it!"
Angrily, he pocketed the muffin – with no intention of eating it, though, but rather to keep Quirrell from having it.
"You realize that you are acting very childish, Severus, don't you?" McGonagall admonished.
"Childish?" Severus retorted. "Me?"
"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore confirmed.
"Yes," McGonagall said with a nod.
"Very much," Flitwick agreed.
But when Quirrell opened his mouth to add something as well, Severus grabbed his cake fork and pointed it at him in a threat.
"One word, Quirrell," he warned. "One word and I will poke your eyes out!"
Quirrell swallowed hard and looked at Dumbledore as if searching for help and support.
"Now that was uncalled for, Severus," he just commented.
"Really, Severus," McGonagall said, appalled. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Thirty-…" Quirrell began, but a glare from Severus shut him up, immediately.
"One word, Quirrell," he said again, with a sense of impending doom. "Just … one word …"
"Will you stop it, Severus?" McGonagall demanded, seriously. "Everybody is looking already!"
She was right. When Severus turned he saw that all the students were staring at him. He spotted Potter, gaping, and Weasley, who was whispering something into Potter's ear, which made Potter snigger, only Granger looked at him in a mixture of concern and compassion, which bothered Severus no end and instantly he decided to flunk her in her essay that was still sitting on his desk.
And it was at this moment that he remembered – he had not thrown out that stupid overweight owl from his office before he left. That fat owl that ate a whole box of expired biscuits and heaven knew what had happened, while he had been here, quarrelling with Quirrell about an overrated blackberry muffin, which probably wasn't that tasty after all.
"By Slytherin's spleen," he gasped, standing abruptly, almost knocking over his chair.
He heard Flitwick's huff and McGonagall's puff distinctly, as he darted out of the Great Hall, but he neither commented, nor cared. There was more urgent business to attend to right now.

As quickly as his feet would carry him, Severus ran through the entrance hall and descended the stairs to the dungeons, inwardly begging – even though he would never admit that to anyone – that the stupid owl had held in what needed to stay inside, but just when Severus had entered the dungeons, he practically bumped into two students, lounging about and blocking his way.
"Five points from Hufflepuff, Diggory," he snapped, angrily. "And five point from Ravenclaw, Miss Chang! For socializing in the dungeons for no reason!"
Severus glared at the young couple and from the guilty expression on their blushed faces it was perfectly clear that both Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang had an exceptionally good reason to hang around. Obviously, they were on some sort of date, but Severus wouldn't stand for that. Fortunately, neither of them dared to object and quickly, Severus hurried away, leaving the couple standing behind, but when he finally reached his office and yanked open the door his hopes he had harboured were destroyed.
Unable to fly away due to its massive weight the fat owl had evidently turned Severus' desk into a battlefield of ink-stained paper and droppings of every possible consistence, from firm over curdled to liquid.
Severus let out a yell of anger when he saw the devastation.
"My desk!" he gasped. "My papers, the essays, my notes on my classes … all destroyed!"
He glared at the owl that sat, intimidated, on a heap of essays that yet needed to be marked and had averted its gaze. But that only added to Severus anger.
"Damn bird!" he cursed. "Look what you have done! Too fat to move your stupid body to fly away and do your business elsewhere, are you?"
The owl looked up and blinked at him, guiltily.
"Hoo …" it said, miserably, and it was just enough to push Severus over the edge.
"That's it!" he decided, slamming the door behind him. "I will have you fired for this!"
With that he began rummaging through the mess on his desk, looking for some clean paper, but when couldn't find any immediately, he simply snatched a terribly soiled piece of parchment from his desk that turned out to be Granger's formidable essay about the side effect of the Cure for Boils Potion. But Severus was too upset to care. What better evidence could he provide to the post office that this bird was obviously incapable of fulfilling his job properly?
Hastily, Severus wrote a few additional lines on the paper, explaining the unqualified and unprofessional behaviour of the post owl, using many words that he would never dare to speak out loud, before he rolled up the parchment into a small scroll and addressed it to the head post office in London.
"There you go," he said, suppressed anger in his voice as he handed the letter to the owl. "You will deliver this to your employer this instant and if you *happen* to lose it, believe me, I will find out about it and hunt you down!"
Apparently, the owl did believe him, because it gently took the letter with its beak and looked at Severus out of huge amber eyes.
"Don't look at me like that!" Severus demanded. "I will not change my mind! On the contrary, you will only make things worse!"
"Hoo …" the owl said, pitifully.
"One more word," Severus warned, jabbing an accusing finger at the owl. "One more word and I will have you for the next Thanksgiving Feast, do you understand? Now go!"
But the owl didn't move. It just stared at Severus in shock and it didn't even flinch, when Severus finally grabbed it and carried it to the tiny window.
"Out!" he shouted, throwing the owl up.
The owl flapped his wings, labouredly, and just so managed to reach the window sill.
"Out!" Severus insisted. "I have had it with you! And if I ever see you again I will wring your fat neck, do you hear me?"
The owl didn't even hoot. Slowly, it turned, shuffled out of the window and then it was gone.
"Finally," Severus said with a sigh, folding his arms before his chest, waiting to feel better already.
Curiously, he didn't. For some reason he didn't experience any satisfaction from his latest action, quite the contrary. Even after he had cleaned his desk and saved what could be saved from his notes and essays Severus found himself, more than once, thinking about that stupid owl that had visited him today. He could still see these intense amber eyes with which it had looked at him and it confused Severus immensely.
It was just a silly old bird, after all. Not even an exceptionally beautiful one – just a fat black barn owl with no personality at all. And yet he couldn't get that owl off his mind, he couldn't concentrate properly on his work, so Severus decided to turn in early and call it a day.

Severus didn't even attend dinner, which was not unusual for him, instead he planned on spending the evening in front of the fireplace, but just when he had entered his sitting room a faint knock at the door made him frown.
For a moment Severus considered ignoring the visitor, but then he realized that it could as well be Dumbledore, seeking counsel regarding the Philosopher's Stone, and reluctantly he opened the door. To his dismay, however, it was not Dumbledore outside – it was Quirrell.
"Severus," he greeted, timidly. "Hello …"
For a split second, Severus thought about slamming the door into Quirrell's twitching face, but then he changed his mind. Why refuse picking on an innocent victim, when it came to him so willingly?
Severus narrowed his eyes.
"Are you completely out of your mind, Quirrell?" he snapped, angrily. "Don't you know that I hate to be disturbed? Especially by you?"
Quirrell gaped.
"B-B-But, Severus …" he said, quietly. "I have a serious problem …"
"You *are* a serious problem, Quirrell," Severus replied, coldly. "That's why I don't want to be bothered by you and under no circumstances do I want you to knock on my door, do you understand? If you are excited and you want to celebrate, because the Ministry of Magic has awarded you the Order of Merlin, First Class, and you desperately need someone to share the moment with – don't come knocking! If there is a fully grown Mountain Troll in the dungeons and you want to warn me – do not knock! Not even if you hear the sound of a thud from my chambers and I don't turn up for my classes and one week later there is a strange smell coming from these rooms that can only be the odour of a decaying human body and you have to hold a handkerchief to your ugly face, because the stench is so disgusting that you think you are going to faint – not even then – don't knock. Not on this door! Not for any reason! Do you get me, Quirrell?"
Gulping, Quirrell nodded.
"Y-Y-Yes," he said, weakly. "This is n-n-not a v-v-very subtle point that y-y-you are m-m-making."
Severus inclined his head, indicating a bow.
"Alright then," he said, waiting for Quirrell to bugger off.
But, unfortunately, he didn't. He just stood there, lowering his head.
"I don't see you leaving, Quirrell!" Severus stated the obvious. "Why are you not leaving?"
Insecurely, Quirrell looked up.
"It's j-j-just," he began, insecurely, as if he was ashamed to bring the matter up at all. "M-M-My iguana has escaped and I n-n-need it for m-m-my class t-t-tomorrow."
Severus raised an annoyed eyebrow.
"And this is my problem … why?"
"I w-w-was w-w-wondering …" Quirrell said, hesitantly. "Y-Y-You haven't seen m-m-my iguana, have y-y-you?"
Severus blinked.
"Do I look like a pet person to you, Quirrell?"
"N-N-No, c-c-certainly n-n-not, b-b-but I thought …"
"That's the problem with you, Quirrell, you do *not* think!" Severus maintained. "You are totally and utterly a disgrace for everyone, who calls himself a wizard, and even a mini-brain like Neville Longbottom would outsmart you!"
Quirrell's left eye began to twitch, violently.
"Surely, y-y-you d-d-don't m-m-mean that, Severus …"
"Oh, rest assured, I mean it!" Severus replied. "And I couldn't stress enough, how much I detest you, Quirrell. I hated you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, oh, so many moons ago, and my attitude hasn't changed one bit. If anything, I loathe you even more than I did back then – and that means something!"
Quirrell swallowed hard.
"So, y-y-you haven't seen m-m-my iguana, I t-t-take it?"
Severus leaned forward, his hooked nose only inches away from Quirrell's pale face.
"No, I have not seen your iguana," he hissed. "And if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"W-W-Well, d-d-do y-y-you have any idea, how I c-c-could … lure him b-b-back to m-m-me?" Quirrell asked, desperately. "Is there, b-b-by any chance, a potion or something?"
"What makes you think that the beast wants to return to you?" Severus added for consideration, backing away a bit. "He is probably happy to be rid of you! Maybe that's why he left in the first place."
"B-B-But I c-c-cared for him v-v-very t-t-tenderly," Quirrell insisted, eagerly. "I fed him all k-k-kinds of fresh fruit, every d-d-day. Apples and b-b-bananas, sometimes even m-m-mangos! And I c-c-cleaned his c-c-cage thoroughly once a w-w-week and I …"
"Quirrell," Severus interrupted. "Even if you had built your lizard a tiny castle resembling Hogwarts – I couldn't care less!"
"It's an iguana, Severus," Quirrell corrected. "And I have n-n-not b-b-built him a c-c-castle. It has n-n-never even c-c-crossed m-m-my m-m-mind, actually. M-M-Maybe I should … D-D-Do y-y-you think I should? B-B-But, t-t-to b-b-be honest, I am n-n-not that t-t-talented, when it c-c-comes t-t-to b-b-building something."
Scoffing, Severus folded his arms in front of his chest.
"You are not that talented – full stop," he declared. "In my opinion, you are a poor excuse for a wizard, really."
Quirrell pressed his lips together.
"Anything else?" Severus demanded. "You are wasting my precious time."
But Quirrell still didn't move. He kept standing there, his trembling hands fidgeting, and as he looked up, the expression on his face was sorrowful.
"I am really w-w-worried, Severus," he said in a small voice. "What if something has happened t-t-to Chuck?"
"Chuck?" Severus repeated. "Who is Chuck?"
"M-M-My iguana," Quirrell explained. "What if he g-g-got lost? What if he is injured and w-w-waiting for help?"
Severus produced a thin smile.
"I can assure you," he said, smoothly. "If I do find your iguana, I will help him."
"Really?"
"But of course," Severus confirmed. "I would put him out of his misery in a heartbeat! Believe me, he wouldn't feel a thing!"
"N-N-No!" Quirrell gasped in shock, tears already welling up his eyes. "Y-Y-You w-w-wouldn't!"
Severus sighed.
"No, you are right, Quirrell, I wouldn't," he admitted. "I guess I would rather keep your iguana and feed him till he was big and fat. And then I would eat him!"
Severus didn't wait for Quirrell to answer or break out into tears for he certainly looked like it, but slammed the door into his face instead. A dull thud from outside told him that it knocked Quirrell right off his feet and satisfied Severus smirked at the mental image before his inner eyes.
Hoping Quirrell might have hurt himself seriously, Severus returned to his sitting room and sat in his armchair, enjoying the silence, listening to the sizzling fire and watching the flames casting eerie shadows on the wall.
Pets! As if he would care for animals. He had sworn off pets, when the raven he once had had died, so many years ago. Severus didn't care to remember and yet he couldn't get the memory out of his head. He had been happy back then and sometimes he could even hear the bird cawing. But of course, this was only in his head …

Absentmindedly, Severus continued staring into the flames, haunted by the visions of the past, when he suddenly heard a scratching sound on the window and a faint smile flashed over his face as he got up to open one wing of the window.
A storm was howling outside, thick raindrops were drumming against the window pane and cowering in one corner of the window frame sat the fat black owl, a tightly scrolled up letter in its beak and a small box tied to its talon.
"You are back again," Severus greeted the bird. "Well, come in. It's cold."
The owl hesitated before it painstakingly flapped inside and landed on the small table next to the window, carefully holding out the letter, which Severus took and unscrolled after closing the window.
"Dear Professor Snape," he read. "We regret the incident that occurred and will not allow it to happen again. Rest assured that Owl No. 143 has been released from its duties and will hereafter never bother you again. We wish to point out that we are at all times attentive to complaints and place a high importance on immediate abolition of any inconvenience. Unfortunately, in your case, nothing could be done. We apologize for the damage and offer you a premium box of fine Scottish Shortbread to compensate your loss."
Severus pursed his lips. Scottish Shortbread. That has actually been the cause of the whole incident to begin with. Snorting, he untied the small box from the owl's talon, realizing that the nametag and identification number ring were missing.
Severus cleared his throat.
"The evidence you sent in has been filed for thorough investigation and you will be notified if you are entitled to any more compensation," he continued. "We wish to point out that we always appreciate constructive comments from our customers but kindly refrain from value judgements and using unpleasant language. Thank you for choosing Wizard's Wild Wings. Kind regards, Gladiolus Thrip, post manager."
Severus lowered the scroll, looking at the bird.
"So, they fired you indeed, didn't they?" he asked.
"Hoo …" the owl answered, raising its empty talon that bore no official post pendant anymore.
"So, you are unemployed at the moment?"
The owl lowered its head and turned away, shuffling toward the window, but once it reached the table's edge it paused and looked at Severus grief-stricken. For some reason it struck a chord inside Severus and it took him a moment until he realized that it was honest compassion for the poor bird.
"Don't worry," he said, patting the owls head. "I am not going to throw you out into the rain. You may spend the night here, in front of the fire place."
The owl looked at him, incredulously.
"I didn't say *in* the fire-place," Severus said, shaking his head. "As a matter of fact, I don't care for roasted owl at all."
"Hoo?" the owl said, doubtfully.
"Believe me, I don't," Severus assured. "You are perfectly safe. What I really care for is a blackberry muffin with a mug of steaming hot coffee. Unfortunately I happen to have no blackberry muffin on me right now …"
Severus' voice trailed off, when the owl cocked its head, and suddenly Severus realized that this was not entirely the truth. He did have a blackberry muffin on himself – inside the pocket of his robes, to be exact.
Gingerly, Severus reached into his pocket and produced the muffin that meanwhile looked a little damaged. Instantly, the owl's amber eyes lit up and Severus couldn't help but smile.
"Alright," he said with a sigh. "Here is the deal: We will share it, but don't get your hopes up. This is not an entirely fresh muffin. It isn't expired yet, but it has touched the floor. If that doesn't bother you, be my guest."
"Hoo!" the owl said, excitedly, and shaking his head Severus divided the muffin into two halves and placed one of the halves on the table.
Incredulously, the owl darted another glance at Severus, before it ate the muffin, hungrily.
"In under a minute," Severus commented, bewildered. "And without leaving as much as a crumb! If you had always fulfilled all your duties so thoroughly I am sure you would still have your job."
Ashamed, the owl lowered its head.
"And if you had lost a stone or two," Severus added, matter-of-factly. "You are hopefully overfed. I will have to put you on a diet! No more muffins and no more Scottish Shortbread, is that understood?"
The owl looked up, blinking, confused.
"Wait a second," Severus said, frowning. "Did I just say *I* will put you on a diet?"
"Hoo!" the owl answered, confirmatively.
Severus exhaled deeply.
"Looks like I have just adopted a pet," he mumbled under his breath. "If you will have me, that is …"
Instead of an answer the owl ponderously took wing, flew over to Severus and landed on his left shoulder, almost making him lose balance.
"Careful there," Severus said, trying to compose himself. "And mind your talons, please. These are my favourite robes. Actually, they are my only robes, so naturally I don't wish to see them ruined. I will get you a perch from Eeylops Owl Emporium tomorrow, where you can sink your claws into. And speaking of which! If you happen to come across a loose lizard or iguana – don't eat it. It belongs to Quirrell and you certainly don't want to eat anything that he took care off. I don't trust that guy! And neither should you. Understood?"
The owl hooted, quietly, as it began nibbling at Severus' hair, until it finally found his earlobe, which obviously tasted better than the black strands.
"No biting!" Severus demanded, slightly amused. "Not even for fun, is that clear? Now will you kindly find another place to sit on, please? My arm is already numb and I am just in the right mood for a cup of coffee. So, do you mind?"
Apparently, the owl *did* mind. It didn't even move one inch and Severus was forced to brew himself some coffee with the owl clutching to his shoulder, watching him, carefully.
"You have to get off there eventually," he explained. "I cannot possibly take you with me to classes tomorrow. But you are welcome to stay here – as long as you behave. Does this appeal to you?"
"Hoo!" the owl said, happily, and rubbed its beak against Severus' cheek.
Sighing, Severus took the owl with one hand, removed the protesting bird from his shoulder and sat it on the backrest of his armchair. It was high time, for the feeling had left his arm entirely by now. Severus was barely able to hold his steaming mug of hot coffee as he sat down in front of the fire, before staring into the flames again.
This was all he needed, he noticed, as he slowly sipped at his cup. A warm fire, a good blackberry muffin, a large mug of coffee and – he hated to admit it – company. But what bothered him even more was to realize that he was already beginning to like it.