Severus took his time setting up his new house, after erecting some security wards around the property. It was small and cozy, with plenty of windows that let in the country air and sunlight. There was his bedroom, a second room he set up as a study, a bathroom, a living area with a fireplace, a kitchen, and a basement where he set up his potions lab. When he stepped outside, all there was to be seen were rolling hills, trees, mountains in the distance, a horizon that stretched forever. Not a soul for miles. The Muggle man who had sold Severus the house was now conveniently unaware that the house, or the man who bought it, had ever existed. Out here, Severus was utterly alone with no one to find him or bother him. It was perfect.
Almost perfect. He may have been physically alone, but his thoughts never left him alone. Even Occluding only did so much for so long. His guilt remained. His grief remained. He was relieved to know he was out of everyone's reach, unable to be used or manipulated for anything. But his own mind reminded him of every terrible thing he wanted to forget. Sometimes there were more tears. There was no one around to see or judge, and he ended up venting his grief more than he had ever allowed himself to before. No abusive father or uncaring Headmaster to witness his weakness.
He was settled in as autumn took root, drying up plants and turning the leaves fiery red and gold. With nothing else to do in the house and tired of tears, Severus threw on a cloak and stepped outside, the brisk breeze blowing his hair around and billowing his cloak. He leisurely walked over the hills, through wooded areas, dried leaves and grass crunching under his shoes. Occasionally a fox or rabbit would scurry by, and once he came across a badger. He noticed birds hopping around on bare tree branches, chirping and twitting. He'd never noticed such things before. After the turmoil of his life up until this point, the quiet stillness and peaceful sounds of nature were almost jarring. As if it wasn't possible for the world to be so calm when he had only known it to be harsh and unforgiving. But perhaps, over time, this could be his new normal.
He spotted a wild herb that hadn't died yet, and he reached down to pluck it. He could use it in his potions. Without anything to put it in, he held it as he continued his walk, now on the lookout for anything else useful for brewing. Who knew what else grew in these parts he could use and experiment with. He would have to get a basket to carry his findings in. His spirits lifted a little, already thinking ahead about what he might be able to find and use in each season, how to take advantage of what the land had to offer, what new potions he might be able to brew. It was something to occupy his hands and thoughts, and he readily welcomed it. Even in a new environment, there was the familiarity of his favorite magical field to hold onto.
Autumn soon gave way to winter. The winds grew harsher, and many animals migrated or hibernated. When snowstorms hit, Severus holed up in his new house with plenty of food and firewood, the doors and windows barred from the snow and wind. He spent his days reading or brewing or simply puttering around. It was simple and quiet, precisely what he needed after his turbulent life thus far.
He spent hours in his lab, forgetting the passage of time as he experimented with the various vegetation and insects and whatnot he'd collected in autumn, taking copious notes of their effects and the measurements used and how they interacted with each other and the ingredients he'd brought with him. Some experiments were duds, others blew up in his face, some had horrible smells or turned hard as bricks. Such were the risks when a potioneer tried new things.
Yet other brews proved interesting. He invented a potion that made an excellent kitchen cleaner, another that increased the nutrients in crops when added to soil, and one that eradicated his trademark grease and left his hair soft and full of body. He'd never given much thought to his hair, even when the Marauders teased him for being greasy, but he found he didn't mind this change.
When the weather was calmer, Severus went out bundled up every day to fetch snow for drinking water, or went to the river if there wasn't snow. He often had to break through the ice to get at it.
Behind his house, he'd built a small greenhouse where he grew fruits, vegetables, herbs, and a few plants strictly for potions. Protected from the elements, he could plant and enjoy fresh crops anytime. He spent leisurely time in there, picking and pruning and watering as he walked between rows of planters. He was not epicurean in his tastes; such a basic diet suited him fine. Every once in a while he caught a rabbit or fish to supplement his diet, but he could eat fine without them if he had to, such as during winter when game was hard to find.
In the evenings, he sat before the fire with a mug of herbal tea and a book. So far, his simple, unhurried lifestyle was becoming quite agreeable.
Winter melted away, and the air warmed. The grey landscape turned green and lush. Severus brought his basket when he went outside, collecting more specimens to experiment with.
The animals were out again, this time accompanied by brand new young. He tried not to notice as the birds fed their screaming chicks, as badgers ambled along followed by their cubs, as bunnies scampered and hid, as fox kits tumbled and played together. But when he went to the river for water and came across a doe with two fawns, he couldn't stop watching, his chest aching.
Lily had never learned his secret.
Severus had never told a soul. Even his own father hadn't known, after his mother decided it best to keep it from him. But she had told Severus when he was old enough to understand, before he had even gone to Hogwarts. Severus was a male bearer. He was still genetically male, but he also possessed the ability to carry, birth and nurse children.
They were extremely rare in the wizarding world - Severus was the first one born in almost 200 years. Historically, his mother had told him, the fate of a male bearer was often unhappy. They were greatly sought after for their abilities, to the point of having their services repeatedly sold to the highest bidder, or being shown off as a trophy at social functions, or simply married off to someone who only used them for breeding. It was believed that the children of a male bearer inherited especially strong magic - and there were cases to back up the theory - not to mention the bragging rights of who bore them. Pureblooded families would pay through the nose to have just one heir born from a male bearer. The needs and feelings of the bearer did not enter the equation. It didn't take much imagination to assume that they were not generally allowed to find a spouse they loved and raise a family of their own in peace. Many had been trapped in loveless marriages, or prostituted by their own families, and at least one had committed suicide.
Severus understood the risks. He'd always understood the need to keep some things close to the vest for one's own protection. It had been his secret wish growing up that he would be different - that he would escape the historical precedent and find a spouse he loved that loved him back, someone that he could trust with his most guarded secret and have a family with. For a time, he'd nurtured a hope that perhaps Lily was the one. They had been such good friends, and she had been so kind. The only one to show him any kindness.
And he had thrown it back in her face. His own stupidity, his falling in with the Death Eaters in a pathetic bid for acceptance, his thoughtless slur, had lost her friendship for good. As usual, he'd ruined everything. Ruined his chance at happiness and ruined her chance of a long, healthy life.
After losing her, he'd never felt any interest in pursuing anyone else, and now he was living alone in the wilderness, where he would remain alone for the remainder of his days. He would never find a wife, never have a family or children of his own, never forced to bear anyone's children. He had only himself to blame, and he had only himself for company. Every year the wildlife would have their babies, but Severus would never bring forth new life. An annual reminder of what he could never have. A reminder that he only brought death, not life.
The doe walked away with her fawns, and Severus snapped out of his melancholy to his usual rationality. So be it. He didn't need family anyway. He'd always shifted for himself. He was building a peaceful life out here, and it would be enough. The world would never know about his abilities, and he would be left alone without getting harassed or given the chance to ruin anyone else's life or his own. It was for the best. It didn't matter. Not at all.
Summer brought strong sunshine, and Severus continued exploring the lands surrounding his house. He was getting quite proficient at brewing off the land, so to speak, having invented more potions from what grew locally, and he ate from his greenhouse and what wild game he caught. On rare occasions he would transfigure his face to disguise himself and Apparate to a small town to do some necessary shopping and sell a few potions, but for the most part he lived off the land and saw no one. The less he was around people, the better.
By now he knew his way around these parts like the back of his hand. He could tell when it was about to rain by the smell, or if a storm was brewing based on the sky. Animals left signs he learned to recognize, and he knew where to forage for potion ingredients. He was no longer a Death Eater or a teacher or a spy, but a simple country man who minded his own business.
Autumn came again, a year since he had moved into his little house in the field. He was well and truly settled by now, calmer in spirit and taking each day as it came. He tended his garden, he foraged for ingredients, he took long hikes, he brewed his potions, he read his books in his study, he tidied his house. He watched the sun rise in the morning, and watched it set at dusk. Life was slow and quiet, his new normal.
He had no idea what was going on in the wizarding world beyond, nor did he care. No owls came with letters or the Daily Prophet. No one knew where he was or what had become of him. And that was just fine. He was satisfied with his life now as he knew it, straightforward and self sufficient and calm. No drama, no schemes, no powerful wizards to contend with. He could go about his chores and watch the seasons change.
The days drifted by and blended together. The days became years.