A Season for Healing

By Dien

Summary and disclaimer in part one.

Rating: The series overall has an adult rating due to the Severus/Harry plotline... This part is PG-13 or R for language, and we see angry Severus.

Notes: I have no intent of a Snape/Lily romance being revealed here, before you ask (or threaten). J KDay2: You caught the Narnia ref! Yay! Eventually, I will have a tidbit on why Snape named the animals as he did.

Chapter Three. In which we meet some of the other residents of Snape Manor.

Severus Snape felt his hands tighten into fists as he led the way up one of the library's wrought-iron staircases. He had kept his voice normal with an effort when he'd told Potter to follow him to the owlery.

But-- that look. So very familiar; so very hated. He remembered the expression on James Potter's face as the man had seen the Dark Mark on his arm. The disgust, the loathing, the fear, the hatred. Bastard Gryffindor. The smug bastard had no right to judge.

He didn't know what it was like. He didn't know, and he had no right to look like God Almighty, righteous judgment in the blue eyes, telling him to get out of his house, get away from his wife.

And the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, in yet another repeat of history, looking at him, at the mark, the same damn way. Green eyes this time, staring at him from the first Potter's face.

He had had to bite his tongue, bite back the venom and acid, force himself not to react. Make himself think of the hurting, wounded Harry Potter of last night, and that was the only way he had managed to refrain from biting the boy's head off.

He was so tired of being judged by bloody Potters. Father and son-- bastards both, so alike, and Lily hadn't made any difference in the son...

Severus took a deep, calming breath, than another. I'm a rational man, damnit, I am not going to let emotion and a childish grudge control me--

Childish? The bastard damn near killed you, he damn well fucked up your life, and now his bloody son wants to look at me and judge, I'm not--

I am in control, damnitall! I am. I am. Reason, not emotion. Deal with the situation like a professional. You are a professional, are you not, Snape?

A professional and a Slytherin and a Snape. Act like one. And damned if I'll let the Hero of the Wizarding World, James Potter's bastard son, see me shaking.

He kept his steps precise, taking the stairs one by one by one. By the time they reached the third floor landing, his breathing had returned to normal, and Potter, behind him, seemed none the wiser.

The third floor landing butted up against the tower wall, and the door that led out to the battlements. Not caring if Potter was keeping up, he opened the door and strode out into the morning sunlight.

The wall he stood atop was about fifteen feet thick, more than broad enough to walk along. Ramparts to his left faced the outside world; to his right he could see down into the courtyard. Snape began to walk towards the owlery tower with long quick strides over the flagstones.  He smiled slightly as Potter had to half-jog to keep up.

"Your home is fantastic, professor," the boy said hesitantly from beside him. He rolled his eyes. What was the brat trying to do, make conversation? He grunted in response.

Potter was not to be dismayed. "I mean, it's huge! And the library is amazing... Is that a real dragon's skeleton?"

Oh shut up, Potter. Damn cheerful polite Gryffindor. I don't want to talk to you.

"Yes, it's real. I believe my great-great-grandfather killed it on a hunting expedition. This was before hunting dragons was made illegal, of course."

"Oh."

"'Oh,' indeed."

Be civil, Severus. The boy's been abused by his Muggle relatives. You can treat him like a human being for once.

Even if it's too much to expect the same courtesy in return.

Oh? Then what's he doing? He's trying to be polite, you know, he's making an effort--

Oh shut up. I'm being civil, damnit.

This is going to be a long summer.

As they approached the owlery tower, a black blur took off from its conical, shingled roof in a flurry of dark wings. Snape held out his hand, and the large raven alighted on it with a croak.

"Good morning, Poe. What have you been up to today?" Severus sighed, using his free hand to pet the bird's head.

The raven let out another hoarse caw, turning a beady golden gaze on Potter, standing hesitantly nearby. Snape rolled his eyes again.

"It's all right, he's a guest. You can talk."

"You didn't tell me we had a guest, Severus," the bird croaked reproachfully, and Severus was amused to see Potter start. Well, it was true that even in the wizarding world, talking animals were not common.

"He just got in last night. You weren't around to tell," he said in a conciliatory tone of voice. "Shall I introduce you?"

Poe made a harsh noise that meant a polite yes, despite the sound of it. Snape turned and held out the bird to Potter.

"Potter, this is Poe. He's one of the resident menagerie, which you should probably meet if you'll be staying. Poe, this is Harry Potter-- yes, that Harry Potter. Say hello."

"Hello," Poe squawked obediently, cocking his dark head to one side and observing the boy. "Severus neglects to mention that I am the only useful member of the resident menagerie... how long are you staying, Harry Potter?"

"Uh," the Potter boy said eloquently, taken a little bit off-guard. "Um, probably all summer."

"Really?" Poe said politely, with a little bird-like nod. Snape hid a smile. It had been a while since he'd introduced Poe to anyone new, and he was so used to the raven that he'd forgotten how much Poe tended to evoke double and triple takes.. He petted the raven's glossy dark feathers absently, watching the bird's eyes veil over with content.

"So you're the 'useful' member of the menagerie, Poe?"

"I'm certainly the most --brrawwk- intelligent," the bird said. "Why?"

"Because I want you go and fetch Macavity and Fenris."

The bird opened his eyes in irritation. "Must I?" he said with a very human-like indignation.

"You must. If Potter's going to be staying here all summer, he needs to meet everyone, and they need to know he's a guest. I don't fancy telling Albus Dumbledore that my pet wolf chewed up the Boy Who Lived because of a misunderstanding," Severus muttered.

"Ah. When is the Headmaster going to visit again? We have not seen him for a while now," the bird complained.

"I haven't the faintest. He's a busy man. And stop whining-- you can fly up to Hogwarts and visit him whenever you like."

"Braawk. Not the same," Poe croaked with what would have been a sigh, from a human throat.

"Just go and get Mac and Fenris, will you?" Severus sighed.

"If I must. Nice meeting you, Harry Potter," the bird cawed, then took off with another flurry of wings.

"The inimitable Poe," Snape said wryly, looking after the bird with a smile, then remembered himself and schooled his face back into the usual sour lines he wore around Potter. That made him resentful, too; just as holidays were the time he had to himself, away from students, so was home the place where he could be himself... where his reactions were not under constant scrutiny, where things were simple.

Potter's presence here changed that.

He sighed and opened the tower door, leading the way into the avian chaos that was the owlery.

Some thirty birds fluttered around the round tower room, predominately owls, but a few other species were mixed in too, such as the falcon (in its own cage, for the safety of the others) for emergency messages requiring speed. The number of birds was yet another legacy of the past, like the house-elves: he had no need for so many, yet there was no real reason to get rid of them.

Potter followed him in and closed the door, looking around him with wide eyes. Severus ignored the boy's curiosity-- If he has questions, he can ask Wiggin. I'm not a bloody tour guide-- and looked for the little tawny owl that was his favorite for messages.

The small brown owl was perched on one of the posts in the room, hooting softly. Though the tawny owl is by nature a nocturnal creature, the owls of the Snape family had been bred to be alert whenever their masters might need them.

Snape grabbed one of the heavy leather handling gloves, hanging on a row of wall hooks, and put it on before extending his hand to the owl. He trusted Poe with his bare flesh, but the owls had sharp talons.

The tawny owl let out a soft 'whoo' and climbed onto his gloved hand. He lifted his free hand and stroked the large head gently, smoothing ruffled feathers with an ease born of long practice.

"This is Aluco, and she's probably the best message owl," he said to Potter, standing behind him. "After her, you can use either Strix or Symphony, they're the two on that perch over there, and likely to be the most gentle.

"It's up to your own discretion, of course, but I recommend wearing gloves when dealing with any of the birds. I don't send owls that often, so they're pretty much left to their own devices. Consequently, they're not as tame as, say, the Hogwarts ones. Any questions?"

"Can I keep Hedwig-- my owl-- here, sir?"

Snape frowned. That's right, didn't the boy have an owl of his own? "Where is your owl?"

"I left her with a friend for the summer-- she wouldn't have been happy at the Dursleys'."

"Ah. Yes. You can have her sent to you... she'll be fine here, I imagine."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," Snape said stiffly, and set Aluco back down on the perch. God, had he gotten so venomous towards Potter that even a simple civil exchange was hard for him? He shook his head minutely.

"In that box over there is spare parchment, quills, ink, etc., if you want to write a message directly from here. I think that covers the owlery," he said brusquely, and Potter nodded. "Did you want to send your messages now, or...?"

"I can send them later," the boy said quietly. Severus nodded and turned back to the door. He yanked it open--

And a ginger-colored streak of lightning flashed by his legs.

"Macavity, NO!" he shouted angrily, as the birds erupted into understandable chaos. "Damn it..."

He drew his wand, ducked the swooping and terrified owls, and tried a calming charm over as much of the room as it would cover. The mad whirr of wings and feathers subsided enough for him to see, and he shot out his hand to grab the lynx firmly the scruff of the neck.

"How-- many-- times-- do I have to tell you-- you are NOT allowed in the owlery?" he hissed, shaking the lynx furiously. "Damn it, Macavity, you've gone and traumatized th-- SPIT THAT BIRD OUT! NOW!"

With a disgruntled hiss around her mouthful of feathers, the tawny lynx obeyed, dropping an unfortunate blackbird onto the tower floor. Severus picked up the poor stunned bird, and used a general Mental and Physical Well-Being Blessing on it before returning it to one of the nests.

Then, with Old Testament, Biblical wrath flashing in his dark eyes, he turned on the lynx.

"Macavity. Out," he growled in a tone that brooked no contradictions.

The cat sulked. Severus glared. The cat began to lick a paw with rebellious laziness, but her master moved one booted foot in what was clearly the forewarning of a kick, and she thought better of it. With practiced indifference, she stalked out of the tower door.

Severus sighed and gestured for a wide-eyed Harry Potter to exit as well, then made sure the door was firmly closed behind him when he exited.

"I apologize for the shouting," he snarled with a dark glare for the feline, "but volume is the only way to get this abominable creature to do anything. Harry Potter, may I introduce the next of the... wonderful talking beasts, Macavity the lynx."

Macavity sat in the sunlight with total lack of concern, licking her fur and ignoring Harry. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Yes, she can understand English, and speak it as well. She simply pretends not to a great deal of the time, as she enjoys making people think she's nothing more than an overlarge, over-fed, under-brained house cat. The best policy is to ignore her, as she will most certainly do with you. Unless you really impress her, which is nigh impossible.

"Macavity, this is Harry Potter. Don't claw him.

"And that concludes that introduction."

He glared at the cat as he finished his speech, but she was already stretching out along the stone walkway, a low contented purr emanating from her throat as she steadfastly ignored both Snape and the newcomer.

"Annoying beast," he said under his breath. The cat cracked one green eye with a distinctly gleeful expression on her feline face, and solemnly winked at him. It was rather impossible to stay mad at Macavity for any amount of time. He grudgingly relented, bending down to scratch the lynx behind her tufted ears.

Potter was blinking a bit and looked like he was trying to hide a smile or outright laugh. Severus flushed a bit-- he no doubt looked fairly ridiculous-- and stood up abruptly, brushing the cat hair from his hands.

"Now," he said loudly, "there remains only the third and somewhat less irritating animal... Fenris should be here shortly." He looked down into the courtyard, one of the wolf's favorite basking places, but the animal was nowhere to be seen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry reach down tentatively to pet the lynx. A pleasing mental image of the large cat attacking with a whirl of claws and teeth filled his mind, but he ground down on it angrily. He was going to be civil, dammit, even if it killed him.

Which it very well might.

There was a whirr of black wings, and Poe landed on his shoulder with a soft caw. "Fenris Ulf is on his way, Severus. Any more errands, or may I be released?"

"Go," he sighed, gesturing, and the raven launched himself airwards with a harsh caw. A few flaps of the black wings took him over to another of the many towers that sprouted from Snape Manor like mushrooms from the ground.

Harry Potter was petting Macavity, and the lynx seemed to like it. Severus put his hands on the stone battlements and looked out over the countryside, a slight breeze pulling his dark hair out of his face.

He sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. What would the summer be? With Harry Potter here. With that boy—young man, now—and symbol of everything that angered him, with that boy ever present. Off-hand comment to Potter notwithstanding, he would run into the brat now and again. It was a large house, but not that large.

Severus's black eyes traced the horizon. The bleak landscape to the north, the moors, suited him. Treeless, barren, the wind howling mindlessly over the land. Even in summer, it never got truly warm out on the real moors. A man could lose himself out there. Days without any other human contact…

He was sixteen. Poe wheeled overhead, occasionally letting out a faint caw that echoed down to him. Fenris trotted by his side, pink tongue lolling from huge jaws. Macavity was somewhere ahead, chasing down a vole or mouse no doubt, hidden from them by the slight roll and dip of the land.

A lonely summer. Siobhan was in Russia, visiting one of her Durmstrang schoolmates. He owled her frequently, her responses back to him comforting, but it was not the same. Without her, he didn't have the heart to go into the forest to the south and west of the house, where as younger children they had spent hours upon hours weaving stories and adventures.

No, when one wanted solitude, it was north that one headed.

If he stopped in his long strides across the turf beneath his feet, stopped and turned around and looked back, he would still be able to see the point of the library tower, and maybe some of the other parts of the manor.

He did not intend to stop, or turn around. Not for several days yet. He had all the things he'd need for camping on the moors in the small pouch attached to his belt. All the equipment was easy to carry once shrunk to an appropriate size, a minor magic.

And for a few days free of the stone walls and his parents, he'd gladly cast much greater magics than that.

Summer was just started. Still two-and-a-half months until he could go back to Hogwarts. Two-and-a-half months of waiting, longing, wishing for the entirely different stone walls of the school, for the comfortable chaos of the Slytherin dormitories, for the classrooms and books and schedule.

He ignored the fact that whenever he was at school, the only things he longed for were the quiet peace of his bedroom at home, the freedom to spend his days as he pleased, the sanctity of the library tower, the companionship of his animal friends and his sister.

Not happy anywhere, boy. Don't know what you want, only that you want more of it.

A wet nose snuffled into his hand. He absently scratched Fenris's large, blunt head, the roughness of the fur under his fingers comforting. The wolf made a low contented noise deep in his chest, and the boy felt his lips curling into a slight smile. Who needed humans, anyways?

The wolf let out the low contented growl again, then murmured under his hand, "Who's the human, Severus?"

"What?"

Fenris butted his head into his master's hand again. "I said, who's the human?"

Severus Snape blinked and turned from the view of the moors, shaking himself from a long-ago memory. "Oh. Yes. The human.

"Fenris, this is Harry Potter. One of the Hogwarts students."

The huge gray wolf eyed the human boy curiously, cocking his head to one side. "Is it food?"

Harry Potter took an involuntary step back. Severus fought the grin that was creeping onto his face. Bless Fenris and his sense of humour, anyway.

He looked down at the wolf and said in the sternest tone he could manage, "No! No, you are not to eat him. He's a guest. Understand?"

Sometimes he thought Fenris really did have the devil in him. The wolf did a marvelous job of looking reluctant and saying sulkily, "I suppose… you're sure he's not food?"

"Quite. Say hello to him. He's staying here all summer."

"Hello, prey," growled the wolf. Inwardly, Severus struggled to keep from bursting into laughter. Fenris would never attack a human unless it was clear that said human was an enemy—and he certainly didn't hunt and eat humans—but, oh, he was so wonderful at being intimidating…

"Hi," Potter said a bit weakly, and Snape relented.

"He's not going to attack you, Potter. In fact, Fenris is possibly the gentlest of the three. Ignore his posturing."

Fenris Ulf looked wounded, then gave a canine grin at the boy. "I'm very nice. Really. The only thing I bite is the orange doormat."

Macavity, still stretched out on the flagstones of the curtain wall, hissed lazily, then purred, "Try it, furball. I will neuter you before you blink."

Potter looked back and forth between the two animals and burst into helpless laughter. After a moment, he looked at Snape and said, "Are your pets always like this?"

Severus felt a small smile twist his lips. "I'm afraid so. But they don't like being called pets. Especially Macavity. Bloody feline independence, and all."

Fenris moved forward and let Potter pet him. Severus let out a small sigh and turned back to the view of the moors.

He didn't want Potter staying here. The house was his—his refuge, his haven, his home. Dammit. Another owl to Dumbledore, perhaps?

No. No, he knew the answer. Albus, cunning old bastard that he was, was probably chuckling and rubbing his hands together in glee, thinking it was marvelous that Severus Snape and Harry Potter had to spend the summer in each other's company.

All right, maybe not. But still…

Not so bad. I'll just hide in the bloody workshop all summer, shall I? Let the bastard Potter drive me into hiding.

Gods, I'm being pathetic. And snide. And childish. And…

What's the Muggle saying? Par for the course?

"Are you quite through fondling the wolf?" said a sarcastic voice, and Harry, startled, let go of Fenris's head and looked up at Snape. The professor was standing there, arms crossed, irritation plain on his face.

"Uh, sure. Sorry," Harry muttered. I thought we were being nice now..? Nope, this is Snape. Take nothing for granted.

"Good. There's a few other residents of the castle you should meet, but they generally don't come when they're called, and they're also not going to hurt you. They care very little for the affairs of the living."

"Uh… the—living?" Harry said hesitantly.

"Yes. They're dead. Ghosts, like at Hogwarts."

"Oh." Ding ding ding. Harry's mind connected the silvery blotches on the map to what Snape was saying and found a match. Well, that was slightly better than running into a live half-Snape, half-Malfoy, he supposed.

"There's three of them. If you run into them at any point, you have my pity," Snape drawled, then looked thoughtful. "Well, actually, Casimir is fairly decent to talk to—if you steer clear of the subject of politics. Amelia and Lucien are lost causes."

Harry wondered, briefly, what it must have been like to grow up in a house with three resident ghosts, until you got to the point where you were on first name terms with them. And, suddenly, he felt a stab of pity for his Potions Master—certainly the last emotion he would have ever expected to feel for the man.

But what must it have been like, indeed, growing up in this huge castle of a house? Apparently, he'd had a sister, who would have been some company, but other than that… What had childhood been like, that the grown man got along better with animals and a stuffy not-house-elf than with ordinary people?

I don't send owls that often, Snape had said in the Owlery. No, Harry didn't suppose he did. Or have many visitors. Or…

His musings were interrupted by Snape pushing himself away from the stone battlements and saying curtly, "I trust that you can find your way back to your room, Potter?"

"Er, yeah--" Harry began.

"Good. Then if you'll excuse me, I have a potion I was working on before you interrupted me," said his professor, then brushed past him and headed back towards the library tower. The large wolf nodded once to Harry, then loped after his master.

Harry watched Snape go, Fenris at his heels, until they both disappeared inside the tower. He looked down at Macavity, but the lynx, after her few words to the canine, seemed to revert back to ignoring everything and everyone.

Harry sighed and walked to the edge of the curtain wall, looking down into the courtyard. The breeze had picked up into a stiff wind, and a few clouds had moved through the pale blue sky to cover the sun. It was suddenly cool. He shivered and headed towards the owlery, thinking of the messages he needed to write to his friends.