He had once again apparated to the spot he seemed drawn to for almost thirteen years now. Sometimes he would move on, apparate to another place, before shifting into his falcon form because he hated that he had a pattern at all. No matter how many times he'd told himself he was not going to apparate to this particular location since realizing he was frequenting it far too regularly. Well, it didn't seem to matter.

Something in his subconscious seemed to be overriding his actions.

It was utterly baffling. Of all the tools that Albus had armed him with. To be outwitted by … What? His mind? Certainly, it was something at work that he did not understand at all. Well, it was frustrating. To say the least.

And he did not like that idea at all. A pattern. A way someone might be able to … track him. Or predict where he might go. No war currently being fought or not.

As far as he knew, he had no connection to this area of northern London. Frustration that he ended up here yet again had him hunting on the ground instead of through the air.

Here, in his falcon form, he pushed aside thoughts of why he might be drawn to this area or anything else as his other senses took over. He scented and tracked a mouse.

Oh, yes, it would make a good snack. He followed the scent.

"Wait," a voice called out, perfectly timed with him about to stun and ingest said mouse. His beak narrowly missed grabbing onto its tail. He wasn't usually spotted by humans. He was more … careful than that. If he was, he got defensive immediately, warning them away with his ‘voice'.

Humans usually found his rapid kack frightening and took the hint, leaving the bird of prey alone. The instinct to kill the mouse and devour it despite the interruption was strong, but something … dare he think it, magical, stopped him from finishing his hunt in the desired way.

Instead of warning the girl away and continuing after the mouse, he paused in his chase. The girl gave a soft gasp as a result. She seemed surprised that he actually stopped. He tilted his head, regarding who would dare interrupt a falcon on the hunt. She was just a slip of a girl.

A magical one, though.

He could … feel her magic. She stopped him from taking that last step toward killing the mouse with, not her verbal utterance as she likely assumed, but the push of magic that had accompanied it. Unintentional, no doubt, but still. Oh, she was a powerful one, though she clearly didn't know it yet. He'd learned by now what people smelled like, and there was a difference in witches and wizards who had begun their magical education and were practicing their Merlin given gifts regularly.

Her hair was long and curly, unruly, though that could have been from her playing in the woods she found him in.

"Um," she said, drawing her lower lip under her front teeth. Even in this form, he could tell that they were a feature she likely was on the receiving end of ridicule for. She huffed, obviously not knowing what exactly she had done, which he found amusing more than anything. "You don't want to do that."

She sighed, seemingly frustrated, that push of magic again, as if she was willing him to understand.

"I know that you can't possibly understand me, but my father thinks someone sprayed or put some sort of poison here. Or possibly discarded something sick. Look at it," she said, her voice a plea as she pointed to the object of his hunt. He regarded the mouse in question. She was right, it had been scampering along the floor of the wooded area moments ago, but now was wriggling and writhing. He had not even grazed the critter with one of his talons or his beak.

It smelled … wrong. It wasn't poison, at least not like anything he'd smelled before. And he was rather versed in poisons at this stage in his mastery. There was definitely something … not natural about this mouse's sudden turn in health.

And it was now dead.

That fast.

Why was she here then? He couldn't ask, of course, but he was curious. And hoped whenever she returned home, she washed up well.

He gave a sound he had never had reason to make before. He'd heard this sound among others like him, it seemed to mean … familiarity. Or welcome. As he'd never had occasion to use it, he never thought much of it before. He'd certainly never seen the girl before now, and she was too young to be an animagus.

He took a moment longer to regard her under the guise of preening himself. He ensured his feathers and feet were cared for. Another thing that he didn't usually spend a great amount of time on when in this form. He wasn't here to mate or flirt with a female.

Who was this girl?

"I'm not supposed to be here either," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting to see someone coming after her. "I saw you come in here," she said, waving her hand. She was clearly trying to tell him to leave. "Please. Shoo. Go. Find somewhere else to hunt and eat. You're too beautiful to die."

He tilted his head, regarding her with an internal scoff before extending his wings to their full over three feet span and gave a sharp squawk before leaving the area.

He had never in thirty-one years been called beautiful before. He'd seen humans while in this form. They'd been scared of him, even without his warning squawk.

Beautiful.

Was he?

He flew above her, circling the area just above the trees for a bit, spotting what was obviously an adult nearby, apparently looking for her. So, she wasn't alone. That was his last thought of the girl before heading elsewhere to hunt.

*****

September 19, 1991

The witch was here . What were the odds?

Well, clearly the odds of her ending up at Hogwarts were good. Assuming she was going to be allowed to pursue her magical education anyway. Someone with her raw power. Well, it would have been a shame if her parents said no. Obviously, they had not said no.

That it would be this school year that she would start on her path to learning how to use magic gifted to her so that she could become a trained witch was interesting.

In his falcon form, it was difficult to ascertain things like height, to get a feel for how old someone might be. People were always taller than he was. All he'd really noticed was that she was not magically educated yet.

She was trying too hard. She'd come prepared, and then some. The other first years, especially the Slytherins her Gryffindors were usually paired up with, didn't appreciate her making it known she already knew these things. She was rather … forceful in the way she inserted herself into everything.

So far, she hadn't been overly disruptive, so he'd withheld offering her his opinion on her class participation efforts.

Draco was relentless in his insults hurled in her direction. That didn't surprise Severus. Where Severus had been raised with a spare the rod, spoil the child mentality, Draco had been loved and coddled. He had, however, been raised with hate. And celebratory stories of mayhem from the first war. Severus wasn't sure which was worse, but thought he wouldn't give up his childhood for one like Draco's.

His godson would be in for a rude awakening when they got past the introductory phases of their curriculum. They were all in the same boat right now. Learning. Acclimating. It was new, being away from home and all that was familiar to you. Soon, though, he would realize that this muggleborn witch was more … everything than he could hope for. The power he detected coming from her in that wooded area over the summer?

He'd never detected anything close from his godson. Not like that. A capable wizard he would be, no doubt, but not in the same league as this witch that he thought was lesser than him.

He couldn't say that, of course.

To anyone.

He wasn't even sure he should voice that opinion to Albus. It had nothing to do with his spying duties. She was just a witch.

Albus would want to know why he allowed himself to get so close to her to begin with. (Or her so close to him. He hadn't even registered that a human was in the vicinity until she'd called out to him.)

He still had no answer to that question, so he held back. It was insignificant anyway in the grand scheme of things. She was just a first year witch.

He could see, though, that today Draco's snide and insulting comments were affecting her more so than usual. She had pretty thick skin, which told him being teased wasn't new to her. He knew the signs of being the object of a bully's attention.

"Mr. Malfoy, let's allow the rest of your classmates to work undisturbed, shall we?"

"Yes, Sir," he said.

His lip curled into what was quickly becoming his trademark sneer. He didn't like when his godfather scolded him publicly. He wanted to argue with him. He was hoping that with his … role in Severus' life (or of Severus' role in his life) that he would get preferential treatment.

That and he was a Slytherin.

He glanced around the room, saw the witch covertly brush her cheek against the shoulder of her robes and then focus on her hands for a moment before returning to work. He saw a steely resolve in her eyes, red though they were, no doubt from tears she'd fought like hell to prevent from falling, that he was quite familiar with.

He cast a silent spell to aid with the color of her eyes. She felt the spell. Of course she would. She glanced sharply at him but returned to work immediately, as if not wanting to risk angering him. Draco wouldn't give up if he saw he'd gotten under her skin more than usual today.

It was later that evening in his office, grading papers that he opened his grade book and noticed what was likely the reason for the witch's temperamental mood today.

It was her birthday.

He thought to breakfast that morning. He was fairly certain that he'd seen her get mail, which was more than he'd gotten for any birthday. Publicly, as far as anyone else knew anyway. Albus always had something for him. Yet, he knew his circumstances were not normal, and that for most people, being away from home for the first time was difficult.

Add onto that she was older than most of the other students due to her birthday being this close to the school year starting.

Well, it was no wonder she was feeling melancholy.

He flipped to the fifth year Hufflepuffs he was currently grading, putting the witch and birthdays out of his mind.

*****

October 31, 1991

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" he asked and then mentally scolded himself for his dismissive-seeming tone. The wizard had come here on his own time, alone, perilously close to curfew. He didn't have to be cruel to him when no one was around to hear them.

This wizard had trusted him enough last winter to take a potion that he could have died from ingesting. There was no way to test its efficacy. No one else possessed a piece of another person's soul in their body. This was very much a one and done situation.

Severus would, of course, patent the potion in the future. Albus asked him to hold off for now. Surprised that his friend had been so forthcoming with him about things, he agreed to the headmaster's request.

Severus thought Albus was insane the first time he mentioned his thoughts on what precisely had caused Harry Potter's scar. Or rather, what was housed in the scar.

A horcrux.

More than one had been made.

Albus assured Severus all but the one inside Harry had been destroyed. This was the last step in Albus doing everything that he could to ensure the Dark Lord could not return.

So, Albus had invited Harry Potter here for a few days, to let him see his new school, during Christmas holidays. Severus wasn't privy to the conversation between the headmaster and The Boy Who Lived. He'd agreed, and Severus ensured before administering the potion to him that he understood there was the risk of death.

Voldemort killed his parents. He didn't want to have anything to do with him being able to return. He would rather be dead.

Severus wasn't sure if he was incredibly brave or stupid.

The boy lived, of course, because here he was.

He knew what today's date was, and what the date meant to this particular wizard. He looked at the boy then, eyes so familiar to him. So odd to see them looking at him out of that body, a body that, other than the eyes, so resembled his father. Sirius told Severus that he was a natural with a broom, just as James had been.

"I had someone get this for me from Hogsmeade this past weekend."

The this in question was obviously a present being held out to Severus. There was no reason for Harry Potter to get him something, so he was at a loss as to why the wizard was here.

"Yes," he said, glancing at the wrapped item.

"It's just, Hedwig is gone, and I don't want to use someone else's owl because of where it needs to go. And I know that you, erm, have permission to go where it," he said, gesturing to the it in question, "needs to go."

Severus squinted, tilting his head a bit. Was he asking him what he thought he was?

"It's, um, my godfather's birthday Sunday…"

His lips tightened then at the confirmation of what this wizard was asking him to do. He wanted him to go to Grimmauld Place.

Willingly.

He swore he'd never set foot in that house again. He was still invited to Order of Phoenix meetings, but pretty begrudgingly these days. All had listened to Albus' warnings of caution not to assume a wizard as powerful as Voldemort had been defeated and vanquished for good. It seemed despite Albus telling the Order they could trust Severus, most still had their doubts of that being true this far removed from Voldemort's defeat.

"You want me to hand deliver a birthday present to your godfather, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, please. At your convenience, just so long as it's by Saturday, so he can open it whenever he wants to on Sunday."

He had to admit Sirius Black had been more than tolerable the past few years. He and Lupin were the only two, ironically enough, who while still cautious, treated him with a hesitant respect, but respect nonetheless. There were a few witches and wizards he encountered from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, parents of students or peers, while in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, who treated him with cautious respect. None, though, talked to him.

Sometimes he felt like the muggle Boogeyman.

"I suppose that I can do that," he said. "I have nothing taking me away for the weekend that would prevent me from doing so."

The younger wizard dashed around his desk and hugged him. "Thank you, Uncle Severus," he whispered.

Severus had no idea what to do with these events: Hugging? Calling him Uncle Severus? He was an only child.

And yet, that must mean that Black and Lupin had relayed to this wizard that Severus was to be regarded as someone of import to his mother. He certainly wouldn't call him Uncle Severus as a result of his relationship with James Potter.

He had no idea what the proper response to either thing was. He cleared his throat. "You are welcome, Mr. Potter."

"It's just today," he shrugged. "With Sirius' birthday so soon after the anniversary. I just want to be sure he has a gift. You know? Knows I miss him, even though I'm here at Hogwarts, starting on my magical education."

"I understand," he said. "It is very thoughtful of you, and I'm sure he will appreciate the gift."

Honestly, he hadn't thought of how … emotional the other wizard's birthday likely was the past ten years, just days after the anniversary of, not just his best friend's death, but the day he'd in essence become a father. He had no idea if Sirius Black had truly not planned on having children, but to this point he had not married and there were no children to keep Harry Potter occupied.

Odd to think actually that he, Black, and Lupin were very much in the same boat when it came to marriage and ensuring their name continued. There were a few others they'd gone to school with who were still single, but not many. Lupin had a viable excuse: his affliction. Black, well, Severus got the impression he didn't want to settle down at first. And then when he got to the point he might have wanted to, he was paranoid someone would want to be with him in an effort to get their hands on Potter, or the Potter Gringotts vault.

A logical and reasonable fear. Harry Potter had, of course, inherited everything.

Severus didn't have to think about his deficiencies, leading to his marital status. He knew them, inside and out. So there was no use going down that path tonight.

"All right, Potter, unhand me now," he said, ensuring his voice was … not so cold sounding as he said it.

"Why ask me and not Lupin?"

Logical question, since Remus Lupin had come on as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Severus, of course, brewed his monthly potion for him. Honestly, Severus thought it was a good hire on Albus' part. He'd worked with various werewolf packs during the war, and pack fighting was just … different. So, he had varied experiences to teach students. Things to keep their interest. So many thought with Voldemort gone for ten years now that there was no use for such a class any longer.

Not true. Severus was very glad Albus was of the same mindset on that.

"I know he's still recovering from the full moon," Harry whispered. "I think this month's was particularly harsh. He was back in class Monday, but I can tell he's still pretty weak."

Ah yes, that was just last week, and he knew from his conversations with the werewolf that some months could be more taxing than others. Traveling via floo wasn't exactly exerting, but it could be disconcerting. He understood.

And then something the boy said earlier in this conversation occurred to him.

His owl was missing. That was what he implied, wasn't it? He didn't know where she was?

"Where is your owl?" he asked once Potter had stopped hugging him and stepped back around to the other side of his desk.

"I don't know," he said. "I'm hoping someone used her by mistake or something and she'll return."

Severus nodded. It was possible. He wouldn't put it past some of his Slytherins to do something, though. None of them liked this wizard. At all. "Advise me if she does not return. Discreetly."

"Thank you, Sir, I will."

"And you are ready for your first match next weekend?"

Unlike Severus, Harry Potter was allowed to try out for his house's quidditch team his first year. And made it. Outwardly, to anyone but Albus, Severus appeared sour and upset about this … change in a long-standing unwritten rule. Inwardly, Severus was proud of the wizard.

"Oh, yes, Sir. Sirius got me the most awesome broom…"

"I'm sure that he did."

"Sirius says you played?"

"I did. I was Slytherin's keeper from my second year on."

"Cool," Harry said. "If you ever wanted to fly…"

Severus chuckled softly. Oh the irony. Not only could he fly as his falcon animagus but he could, literally, fly. As far as Severus knew only he and Voldemort had the ability to do so. Voldemort never admitted to Severus he'd taught anyone else, and Severus had never seen anyone else do it.

"I will bear it in mind, Potter. As I am head of Slytherin it wouldn't look … good."

"Oh, I suppose," he said. "I get it. It's okay. Maybe during the summer or something."

"Maybe so. Don't you have a dormitory to get back to?"

Potter glanced at his watch then and his face flushed. "Yes. Right. Thanks again for doing this," he said, gesturing to the wrapped item. Severus realized he'd best put it away before he himself headed out of his classroom for the night.

"You are welcome," he said, watching as the younger wizard left his office. Presumably to head to the Gryffindor dormitory and his bed for the night.

*****

Later, assured there were no catastrophes to handle with his Slytherins, Severus took the present (presumably that is what it was anyway) and made his way to the fireplace in his quarters. He had floo permission due to his role. Albus never revoked it after Voldemort's demise, and Severus seldom abused it. Severus sensed Albus would be … amused rather than put out at Severus using it for this purpose tonight.

"Mr. Black? Sirius," he said after a moment's consideration about the wisdom in doing this. It was curfew time, but for adults it wasn't too late.

And, well, it was Halloween.

Ten years ago tonight.

"Severus? Harry. Has something…"

"Is fine," Severus said. It surprised him that young Potter was Black's first thought. He wasn't sure what he expected, but his seeming genuine concern for the boy wasn't it. Severus had visited Harry a few times the past few years, but Sirius usually stayed out of the way when he did. So Severus didn't see the two of them interact often. "Might I come through for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure," he said.

Severus ended the call, stood, grabbed some floo powder, and then stepped into the fireplace. He shook his head as he called out, "House of Black, Grimmauld Place". He never thought he'd be setting foot in the house willingly.

"You're the last person I expected to see on this date, Severus," Sirius said when he stepped out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place.

"Harry entrusted me to get this to you," he said, presenting him with the wrapped item Harry had given to Severus.

"How did he buy me a gift?"

"He seems to be resourceful at eleven," not that this was surprising. Both his parents were resourceful types. "Apparently he asked someone he knew to get you something when they were in Hogsmeade last weekend. I presume one of the older Weasley boys, as I know he is friendly with the one in his year, so you may want to open it cautiously."

"Oh Harry," Sirius said and Severus glanced away when he noticed tears in the wizard's eyes.

"He says Lupin has had a particularly bad time of it after this most recent full moon."

"Some months are worse than others," Sirius said. "I will contact him to ensure that he's all right. I appreciate you passing the information along."

"He wouldn't tell you he was suffering?"

"No, and I suspect he didn't actually tell Harry either, but Harry is good at reading him by now."

"I suppose he would be."

"Would you like a drink?"

His knee-jerk reaction was to laugh and say no. He certainly did not want a drink with, or from, Sirius Black, and then he remembered the date, and that Severus at least had Hogwarts and the staff. Sirius had nothing, as his best friend was still recovering from the full moon and Harry was at Hogwarts. Even if Remus wasn't recovering, he would be at Hogwarts, too.

He was alone on the tenth anniversary. Likely he'd never been alone before on this date.

Could one drink really hurt anything?

"You know," Severus said. "I think I would."

"Excellent," he said, moving to get them both a tumbler full of fire whisky.

"No Kreacher?" Severus asked once Sirius got comfortable.

If this wasn't the most bizarre thing in the world, to be sitting in the Black living room, sharing whiskey with Sirius, he didn't know what was. Fifteen years ago, he'd assume the whiskey was poisoned. Tonight, he sipped without concern that the other wizard was out to harm or embarrass him.

"I presumed you would prefer not to be seen by anyone. You've never come here before."

Severus nodded, appreciating Black's insight. And discretion.

"Your thoughtfulness is appreciated. You presumed correctly," he said. "I thank you," he murmured.

"Oh, that was tough to say, wasn't it?"

"Immensely."

Sirius chuckled.

*****

It was well after midnight by the time he returned to Hogwarts. He took the floo from Grimmauld Place to the Hog's Head Inn. (He could leave the castle via floo, but could not return that way.) From there he walked to the castle. He hated having to be this cautious all of the time. Constantly. Having to think of an excuse for being at Black's if one of Voldemort's followers who was not in Azkaban spotted him.

Albus insisted he had to be vigilant until Harry finished Hogwarts.

How or why the headmaster was so certain that whatever Voldemort might attempt in order to come back wouldn't happen after 1998, Severus didn't know. Was there more than the horcrux? If there was, Albus wasn't telling.

Then Severus didn't know how the headmaster knew half the stuff he did. To this point, twenty years into things, Severus couldn't remember a time Albus had been wrong. Not about something important anyway.

It was the first time in ten years that he'd talked about Lily aloud.

Doing so with Sirius Black was more than somewhat surreal, but it was nice to reminisce with someone else who missed her, instead of wallowing in his quarters alone. Granted, Black missed Potter's father more than he did his mother, but they still had years of memories to discuss, stories to tell that the other hadn't been aware of.

It was … dare he think it … nice. Certainly a more pleasant way to spend Halloween than he had been doing the past ten years. For the first time since the night Lily, James, and Voldemort died, he went to bed feeling nostalgic not morose.

Was that the wizard's intent after all? Was Lupin, in fact, fine and Harry wanted Sirius and Severus to talk?

Possible.

When it got down to it, as he started drifting to sleep, Severus found that it didn't matter.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Severus whispered into the darkness of his bedroom.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com