Title: Tawie
Pairing: Hagrid/Snape
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling
Summary: Visiting an old friend at the pasture.
Note: A quick write, originally for a prompt at comment_fic LJ . Unbetaed, so weirdness abounds. Post-DH AU where everyone lives. I hope its not too weird or extremely OOC, your critiques are definitely welcome.
The few kyloe species that existed in Magical Britain favoured the pastures on the far side of Hogwarts, a place that was both quiet and hard to reach. Past the Oorlicou herd, until one could not hear their ever-miserable mooing, then navigating a steep hill, were the Skeerkyne herd, a dark shadow of uniform black pelt, with long prickly horns seemingly reaching for the skies.
And that was where Hagrid was heading.
Sometimes, when time permitted (plenty now after the Dark Lord's defeat), he would walk all the way just to catch a fleeting glimpse of the albino Skeerkyne bull that lived there, the only white spot in the sea of black. The book on magical beasts noted that the Skeerkyne were cattles of mostly-to-severely dour disposition, easily provoked at the best of times. There were numerous reports of severe injuries sustained by people of all ages, which was rather surprising since the Skeerkyne were as reclusive as they were grim.
The albino Skeerkyne was especially brusque and grim. It was also one of the stronger bulls in the herd. Hagrid had always marvelled at how animals adapted, learnt, and fought for survival. This one in particular never failed to awe him. In most other places, albino Skeerkyne lived domestically, brought up in safe pastures and pens, away from the herd seeking to ostracise it. They didn't live very long though, being self-absorbedly morose and self-destructive. In the wild, they mostly led an even shorter life.
This one though, lived and flourished. It was very young, when Hagrid first saw it. And he watched the young bull grew into powerful maturity, fighting every step of the way. An unknown person might say that this particular albino seemed to compensate its freakish colouring with an eeriely calculating mind, yet another example of a freak of nature. But Hagrid believed that mother nature had her own way of teaching and instilling survival to each and every one of her children.
It was a highly distrustful beast, choosing to kick and skewer anyone or anything trying to approach it, even its own kind. It was usually left alone, unless it approached by its own volition (mostly to engage one of the females in one of the most efficient rutting ritual, or to engage one of the younger bulls to a stress-relieving fight). It had even managed to frighten other bigger animals with its sheer bullheadedness. Neither Fang, nor Fluffy, nor Norberta (when she ever visited) were brave enough to cross the Skeerkyne.
Sometimes, the albino bull would be there for him to find, but oftentimes it was nowhere to be found (possibly off on one of its solitary jaunts). But it seemed to be exceptionally good day for lazing and grazing, so there it was: grazing alone, its wiry coat brilliant white against the afternoon sun.
Soon, Hagrid wasn't the only human in the pasture, someone was walking towards the albino Skeerkyne from the far side of the pasture. A student on a dare? Hagrid thought, his heart already pounding in his chest, a chill rushed through his vein, terror propelled him as fast as he could towards the seemingly oblivious person.
He wasn't fast enough, however, still more than halfway to go, when the person reached out to touch the beast's bowed back.
Hagrid watched, first horrified, then awed, as the beast shifted ever so slightly to the person's touch, momentarily stopping its grazing to confirm who had touched him.
Several slow strokes across the sturdy white back, and the Skeerkyne went back to grazing.
A pause. Then, the person moved closer, melding his side onto the beast's flank.
Hagrid slowed his run.
By now he could see the familiar, much-beloved profile. He smiled then raised his hand in greeting. "Sev'rus?" he called and the dark head turned towards him.
"Rubeus?"
The Skeerkyne continued grazing, though its bright pink eyes watched Hagrid's every move.
"Fancy seein' ya here, Sev'rus," he greeted as he went up to them.
"Just visiting a dear, old friend," was the reply.
---
That night, long after the candles had been extinguished, Severus's body pressed against his side, Hagrid chuckled. Tawie.
Severus had named the ill-tempered, brusque Skeerkyne, Tawie.
"What're y' lghin' at?" came the sleepy protest.
"Nothin', don't ya mind me," he answered, stroking Severus's back much as Severus did to Tawie earlier that day.
Tawie. A Skeerkyne named Tawie. An old friend, Severus had said. And a supremely fine supplier of mature wild albino Skeerkyne hair (very rare, as wild albino Skeerkyne did not often reach adulthood, falling victim to conformity-loving 'normal' Skeerkyne. Or if they did, they wouldn't be in such a great shape, being relegated to the back of the pack, waiting for mere scrapings and leftovers).
Hagrid let out another chuckle before pressing a kiss onto sleepy brows. He burrowed deeper under the sheets, pulling Severus along with him.
Tawie. Only Severus would call a Skeerkyne, a mature albino Skeerkyne who fought tooth, nail, and horns, for its continued survival, docile.
