Pink

Pink

Harry scuffed his trainer against a crack in the pavement, working loose a small bit of cement. Scowling, he kicked it as hard as he could. This had to be the most tedious summer ever. The television was broken, he hadn't received any owls from his friends, and even Dudley was away at some sort of fat camp for the next few weeks. Harry had tried to focus on his schoolwork, but couldn't concentrate

It would have been sensational if he could just do a bit of flying, but of course he couldn't. He'd been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to go further than the front garden. As far as Harry could tell, the edges of the Dursleys' property were the invisible boundaries of his jail.

Harry was almost mad with boredom. He glanced about cautiously, raising his foot. No one was around. They probably wouldn't notice if he just took a bit of a stroll round the block or something...

There was a sudden 'pop' and a growl near Harry's ear, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He leapt away, drawing his wand.

"Well, Potter, summer has hardly arrived and already you're breaking rules," a cold voice observed.

Harry glared up at his least favourite professor, wishing it had been someone else to catch him testing the limits of his confinement. "I'm not breaking rules," he said defiantly.

"Oh, really? Then what do you call this?" Snape replied, gesturing to the street.

Harry shrugged, looking away.

"Two weeks of detention, Mister Potter, for making me waste my time guarding you when you can't begin to appreciate it, and forcing me out to reprimand you, thereby imperilling my position."

"It's not my fault you decided to tell me off!" Harry protested immediately. "And besides that, you can't give detentions; it's the middle of the summer holidays!"

"I'll give you detention whenever I see fit," Snape shot back. "And it isn't as though you've got anything better to do, is it?"

Harry grimaced. "I'm going back inside," he announced sulkily.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Snape replied, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"Can't wait," Harry muttered under his breath as he walked away.

OoOoOoOoO

"Turn to page eight hundred and two," Snape instructed, snapping the curtains shut against the cheery afternoon light. The Dursleys had been banished from their own parlour in order to make room for Harry's detentions. They hadn't liked it, but after a few well chosen words on Snape's part, they'd decided to sod off for a bit. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one intimidated by a sudden, malignant barrage of insults to one's intelligence, ancestry, and general social skills.

Harry stared at the massive tome in front of him. He lifted it from the coffee table, struggling to pull it into his lap. Riffling through the pages, Harry squinted at the minuscule writing, trying to make out the page numbers.

"Be careful with that. It's nearly half a century old, extraordinarily delicate, and absolutely priceless. It is the chef d'oeuvre of Mathilda Magnus, the pre-eminent text on defensive magic."

Harry stared. "You mean you can eat it?"

Snape shut his eyes a moment. "No. Chef d'oeuvre means...a masterpiece. Not, as I'm sure you took it for, an appetizer. Shall we brush up on your basic French before moving on to the more taxing things, like spells? Or shall we go back to the alphabet?"

Harry scowled. "Very funny." He began turning the pages again, this time using just his fingertips, and treating the fragile book with more respect. "Oh. More Occlumency," he said in a dull voice when he reached the page.

"Indeed. Since your last foray into it was an unmitigated disaster, we shall start there. If you can manage any measurable success at it, which I greatly doubt, we shall move on to other things."

Harry flipped through the tome, scanning chapters. Somewhere in the middle of the book he stopped, staring. "The Animagus Transformation," he breathed. "That's it. That's what I want to learn."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," the man snapped. "It's a tremendously difficult spell. You've no hope whatsoever of grasping it."

Harry plonked the book down on the table. "You said we'd learn other things if I could get down Occlumency. This is it. This is what I want to learn."

"You're a delinquent, just like your father. There are laws against it, boy. Do you really wish to see the inside of Azkaban before your eighteenth birthday?"

"These are special circumstances, and you know it! I have people trying to kill me. It could be useful."

"So could most of your other studies, and I note that you've hardly had any desire to put effort into them," Snape shot back, his eyes flashing with anger.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to master himself. "Why won't you teach me?"

"You little cretin, I don't know the Animagus Transformation!" Snape finally roared.

Harry looked crestfallen. "Oh. Right. But...couldn't we just study the theory, then? In case I get a chance someday?"

The Potions Master glared, looking as though he'd like nothing more than to pick Harry up and throw him out a window. "I don't suppose I can stop you reading the book," he eventually said.

Harry broke into the first grin that he could remember in Snape's presence. "Excellent," he responded.

"Fine," Snape said grudgingly. "Now. Go back to page eight hundred and two."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry tapped his quill against his finger, watching Snape's mouth move as the man read Harry's essay aloud. It was odd to think that such thin lips and unpleasant teeth could be accompanied by such an amazingly sexy voice. Harry sat up straight, startled.

Snape paused. "And for a first effort on the effects of the Prompting Potion, this is rather insightful." He glanced up to see Harry gaping at him. "Yes, I'm rather surprised, as well. Apparently you aren't a complete waste of humanity, when you put your mind to it."

Harry blinked a bit, trying to pull back from the precipice of that one unguarded thought. "Erm. Thank you, sir."

"Don't let it go to your head."

OoOoOoOoO

"I've nearly managed the Animagus Transformation, I think." Harry was sure Snape would bite his head off, but there really wasn't anyone else to discuss it with. Besides, he liked the idea of having a real discussion with the man, of being treated like an equal. He was sure Snape didn't see him as an equal, and would never see Harry as anything more than a problematic pain in the arse, but a bloke could dream, couldn't he?

The Potions Master merely made a face. "Why on earth do you insist on doing this? You must stop." He looked up from the stick he'd been transfiguring into a sword, his face strangely earnest. "There are extremely unpleasant consequences if you make a hash of it, you know. Do you want to get stuck as some sort of giant slug or myopic rabbit for the rest of your days?"

"What do you care?" Harry shot back, annoyed.

Snape looked at the boy for a long moment. "I don't."

OoOoOoOoO

A week later, Snape was folded into Uncle Vernon's easy chair reading a letter from someone when Harry looked up from the book, pleased.

"I think it could work!" he said excitedly.

The line between Snape's eyebrows deepened at this interruption. "Do you not realize that I am in the midst of something that--shocking though it may be--doesn't involve you?"

Harry frowned. "What's the point of you hanging about if you're not teaching me anything?" he demanded. "You're not exactly ornamental, you know."

The man sniffed, folding the parchment and slipping it inside his robe. "Clever, Potter. Now, what brilliant discovery have you made today? Need I remind you that the round object that rolls has already been discovered, and is much lauded as 'the wheel?'"

"Ha-bloody-ha," Harry replied. "No, I mean the Animagus Transformation. It takes a lot of concentration and willpower, just like Occlumency. I honestly think I could do it."

Snape looked irked. "Then I'll be the first to say 'Congratulations on managing to formally become a baboon.'"

Harry shot him a dirty look. "I won't be a baboon."

"Well, perhaps not. Perhaps you're more of a jackass."

Harry hunched his shoulders and went back to his reading, ignoring the man. He should have known better than to try to discuss it with Snape.

OoOoOoOoO

At Harry's last afternoon of detention, he felt inexplicably glum. "Well, I think you're about as proficient at Occlumency as ever you'll be," Snape told him in an oddly subdued voice.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed," Harry ground out, annoyed. "I kicked your arse. I'm better than 'proficient.' I'm damn good at it."

Snape only gave a brief shake of his head. "Stop being so immature. I have done nothing today to provoke an argument with you."

Harry subsided, feeling a little ashamed. "Sorry."

The Potions Master lifted his shoulders a little. "Oversensitivity is a common ailment of many adolescents."

"You can be just as immature, you know," Harry pointed out.

"That's another week of detention," Snape told him.

Harry smiled. "Good. Then we'll have time to go over Shielding Spells."

Snape stood, brushing himself off. "I despair of ever being rid of you," he said, but Harry thought he detected just a hint of amusement in that dark voice.

OoOoOoOoO

By the time school was due to start again, Harry had reached a sort of truce with the Potions Master. They even managed the odd civil discussion. Of course, they also often broke down and called each other names or resorted to throwing things at each other.

Harry was really going to miss that.

He was pretty sure that however upset he got, Ron and Hermione weren't going to allow him to throw Aunt Petunia's china at them, and then later pretend nothing had happened. It was a great stress release. He wondered what Snape would be like when they returned to the school. Would he revert to treating Harry with his usual disdain? He'd probably have to, considering the Slytherins would be watching.

The day before term was to start, Snape visited one last time. "Potter...Harry," the man began, "I must insist you cease studying the Animagus spell. I've indulged you long enough."

"Indulged?" Harry squawked indignantly.

"I could have confiscated the book at any time," the man pointed out. "It is simply too dangerous. Promise me I will not catch you trying to learn the spell."

Harry looked away, unable to meet Snape's eyes. "I promise. Say," he added as Snape got ready to leave. "I'm going to miss this. I mean; I guess this means no more detentions, doesn't it?"

Snape arched an eyebrow, giving Harry a brief smile. "I wouldn't count on it, Mister Potter."

OoOoOoOoO

Harry had been right about Snape's attitude once they were around other people. If anything, he'd underestimated the amount of vitriol the man would send his way.

"Mister Potter, do you not know the difference between asphodel and antimony? Could you possibly be that breathtakingly dense? Clear your workstation and start over. If you don't manage this potion correctly by the end of the day, you're out of my class. Is that understood?"

Harry glared at his shoes. "Yes, sir," he growled.

The Slytherins snickered and rolled their eyes.

"Mister Malfoy. It looks as though you're the only person who managed a flawless Falsifying Philtre. Five points to Slytherin."

Harry's head snapped up as he watched his silver-haired antagonist gloat. Draco all but batted his eyelashes at Snape. "I'm sure I couldn't have managed it if I hadn't had such a splendid teacher," he said coyly. Harry refrained from making retching noises. But surely Snape could see through such bald-faced flattery, couldn't he?

The man paused, giving the lesser Malfoy a rare look of approval. "Of course. And five points to Slytherin for your remarkable perspicacity."

More like his magnificent brown-nosing, Harry thought, but didn't say anything. He merely slammed his wand down on the table with rather more force than necessary, and stomped off to get more ingredients.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry rounded the corner and entered Snape's classroom, stopping short. "What is he doing here?" he asked with bristling animosity.

Draco sneered, patting his gleaming hair. "Professor Snape is giving me a little extra tutelage," he announced. "What are you doing here?"

"Detention," Harry said shortly. He set his jaw and went to work, trying to ignore the way Draco was smarming in the background.

"Gosh, Professor, you're so awfully skilled. I've heard the Bedevilling Brew is unbelievably difficult to make. Perhaps you could show me sometime?"

"It's hardly appropriate. It's not on the curriculum because of its nature as a dangerous and addictive substance."

"But surely that hardly matters. It's me, after all. Me...and you, as well, of course," Draco nearly purred.

Harry dropped a jar of butterfly wings.

"Clumsy prat," Draco muttered, put out at being interrupted.

"We'll discuss this later," Snape said. "You'd better head back to your dorm."

Harry scowled at Snape afterward, as he scrubbed cauldrons. "He's practically throwing himself at you. It's revolting. And isn't it against the rules?"

"...Not as such." Snape was looking at Harry in an indefinable way.

"Do you...like him?"

"Do I like him?" Snape repeated incredulously. "Stop being so juvenile. If you are asking if am I attracted to him, then no."

"Why not?"

"I am not attracted to awkward, scraggly, post-pubescent children."

"...I'm not scraggly," Harry said petulantly.

"Did I ask for your input, Mister Potter? It is hardly my fault that you are jealous of Draco," he commented, bottling a potion.

Harry seethed. "I am NOT 'jealous!'" he screeched.

Snape's lips twitched. "It's almost cute," he muttered.

"I'm not--what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"It is?"

"Do piss off, Mister Potter."

"Why do you coddle Malfoy so much?" Harry asked, returning to the topic at hand.

"Because a Malfoy's vanity is the easiest string to pull," Snape replied candidly. "Think of it this way, Mister Potter; do I give Draco excessive detentions and therefore unrivalled attention?"

Harry ducked his head to hide the smile and slight blush. "Guess not."

"Good. More elbow grease on that one, if you would. The armadillo bile is really baked on."

OoOoOoOoO

At around four in the morning, Harry awoke with a sudden idea about the Animagus Transformation. It was a hard spell, since there were multiple incantations, complicated wand movements, and rigid timing. Harry was glad that you didn't have to do it every time; after the spell that rendered you an Animagus, you could change at will.

The greatest obstacle, as far as Harry could see, was the fact that he'd just never be able to remember all the things he'd have to do, or in what order to do them. But, Harry told himself as he slipped his glasses on, creeping out of bed and reaching for his Invisibility Cloak, I happen to know a crackerjack way of remembering things. All I need is a dose of Concentration Concoction, and I know where to get it. I can sneak a few drops and see if it helps.

OoOoOoOoO

The sun had risen, and Harry was still at it. Just as he was realizing he would almost certainly be late for class, he was stunned by a sudden feeling of his body shifting. Something had happened. Something had actually happened! He couldn't believe he'd really managed it. And without Hermione, no less!

Harry was almost dizzy with elation. Take that, Voldemort, you bastard! he crowed internally. You'll never expect this. I'm coming to get you, and now I'm UNSTOPPABLE! He shivered just a little with the thrill of victory.

I wonder what I am? It has to be something impressive. I'm as brave as Sirius, and--and I'm tenacious, and I'm always there to save the day. I'm probably a lion or an eagle or something.

Harry craned his neck to get a look at his new body. It was difficult to tell, since his perceptions had changed, and he was seeing himself from a strange angle, but as far as he could make out he seemed to be...

Pink? What's pink? How am I pink?

He blinked a bit, trying to process this.

I can't be pink. And...what's with my legs? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?

OoOoOoOoO

Ron had his arm around Hermione as they walked together to class. "Harry will turn up," he was assuring her. "And hey, did I tell you I bought something for you?" he asked with an embarrassed grin.

"Did you really? But Ron, you need a new cauldron; you really ought to be saving up."

"Oh, don't fret about it," he urged. "I actually got it quite cheap. Er. That is--" he broke off to clear his throat, his ears turning pink. "I got a good deal."

He fumbled in his pockets before drawing out a box, which he opened to reveal a thick, ornate bracelet. "Oh, it's lovely," Hermione said in a hushed voice. "Here, help me put it on." She held out her wrist.

But before Ron could do more than lift the bracelet, a commotion broke out down the hall. "What's going on?" he wondered aloud.

People were running to and fro, scattering everywhere, squealing and dropping papers and books. There was a loud squawk, and something appeared at the end of the hall. It seemed to be careening toward them.

"Is that a flamingo?" Ron queried in disbelief.

"It's out of control!" someone shouted as they ran past. The flamingo did, indeed, seem to be having some trouble with its motor skills, flapping its wings awkwardly, head bobbing as it staggered along.

It made its clumsy way to Hermione, where it stopped suddenly, giving a raucous honk. Hermione looked at it nervously. "Perhaps we'd better bring it to one of the teachers," she suggested

"How are we going to bring it anywhere?" Ron responded. "It's a bloody great thrashing disaster!"

"We'll sort of...lead it along," Hermione said, tossing her bushy hair over her shoulder. "Here, we can snap my bracelet round its neck like a sort of collar, and I'll conjure a bit of string..."

She coaxed the bird, which was still muttering and fluttering anxiously, down the hall. "Professor Snape's closest; we'll take it there."

Professor Snape was not delighted to be interrupted mid-lesson by two-thirds of the infamous Trio and a large, noisy phoenicopterid intent on flinging itself at him. After a few moments' struggle, he managed to pin the beating wings to its body, and straightened himself.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded in a dangerous voice, the effects of which were utterly spoilt by the facts that his hair was unkempt and sticking to his face, and he had a large pink flamingo tucked under his arm.

"We--we don't know, sir," Hermione informed him. "We were just on our way to class when it came flapping down the hall, so we thought we'd better bring it to a teacher."

Snape peered down his nose at her, trying to regain his dignity. "A likely story."

"It's true!" Ron objected.

"We will just have to see what the headmaster has to say about your shenanigans," the Potions Master announced. "Come with me."

OoOoOoOoO

Dumbledore didn't seem the least surprised to have his office invaded by the improbable group, but offered them cheerful smiles and peppermint humbugs.

"Headmaster, these children have disrupted my class with their undisciplined behaviour and ridiculous pranks for the last time. I demand that something be done."

To Snape's consternation, the man seemed to ignore him completely, instead speaking to the bird now resting comfortably in the crook of Snape's arm. "Ah, and I don't suppose you'd like a nice humbug, would you?"

"Headmaster," Snape said with stretched patience, "flamingos do not consume peppermint humbugs. I'm nearly certain it would not be good for the bird's digestive system. If you wish to offer the blasted thing refreshments, I'm afraid you'll have to find yourself a supply of crustaceans or algae."

"How do you know what flamingos eat?" Ron asked sulkily, clearly unhappy with being hauled into the Headmaster's office for something that was not his doing.

"Everyone knows what flamingos feed on," the Potions Master retorted.

"A marvellous choice, my dear boy," the Headmaster was telling the flamingo. "Of course, I realize you don't strictly get a choice, but still... And may I compliment you on your attractive plumage?"

The bird gave an irritated honk, and Snape sighed heavily. "Headmaster, I don't think you're improving things. The bird is tired and confused and possibly not a bird at all, but rather an umbrella or a croquet mallet that got turned into a flamingo somehow. We should just turn it back into an umbrella or what have you and be done with it."

The flamingo gave a frantic squawk, struggling to get loose. "Don't be silly, Severus. I'm sure Harry is more than capable of transforming back into a human if we give him a bit of time."

"Well, it's an onerous nuisance to carry around, and I--what? What did you say? Headmaster, you can't be serious!"

The long neck twisted, bringing sad eyes ringed with black to look into his own. Severus noticed a small, slightly reddish lightning shape on the bird's head. It honked pitifully at him.

"Potter? You sodding monster! I TOLD you not to try that spell! Now you're stuck, aren't you? Admit it! Admit it, you cretin, before I ring your sinuous neck!"

"Now, Severus, you're not helping matters. It should be simple enough to return Harry to himself. Just set him down, and let me take care of things."

Snape dumped the bird on the ground, his eye twitching.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you've managed it!" Hermione addressed the flamingo. "But why didn't you tell me you were going to try?"

"Stand back," Dumbledore ordered. "He'll need a bit more room at his proper size." There was a flash of light, and Harry seemed to begin to sprout up from the floor, but before he had attained his former size, he clutched at his throat and collapsed, morphing into a bird once more. Dumbledore peered closer, fingering the bracelet round the creature's neck. "What's this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione exclaimed. "We were just using it as a sort of collar to bring him to Professor Snape. Here, I'll take it off." She pried at the silver band, but it would not come loose. "Um. I think the clasp is stuck."

The Headmaster was frowning ominously. "Where did you come by this?" he asked Hermione.

Weasley lifted a hand. "It...was, uh, a gift, sir," he said, ducking his head. Ron shifted his feet, not meeting anyone's eyes. Harry nudged his friend's hand with his beak, as if to prod him to speak. "Ah...bought it off Mundungus Fletcher," he finally muttered.

"What? Ron! You should have known it was dodgy straight off!" Granger promptly began chastising.

"Hmm. I'm afraid this is going to take some looking into," Dumbledore announced apologetically, giving Harry a pat on the head.

"You think Fletcher might have acquired it from a criminal acquaintance?" Snape asked, sounding surprisingly anxious.

The Headmaster faced him gravely. "Worse; I believe Mundungus may have acquired it from the house of Black."

OoOoOoOoO

Severus scowled at the printed page before him, absentmindedly stroking the feathered head currently resting on his knee. They were going over books the Granger chit had found. Severus was distinctly unhappy to have been the one dealt the hand of looking up the needs of flamingos--but, as Dumbledore had put it; 'You did know what they eat, so it seems you're the resident Ornithologist. Just think of it as adding to your reservoir of knowledge.'

There had been something of a battle early on as Potter tried to read as well, pushing his great damn beak between Severus and the book, which had earned the boy--bird--more than one clout round the ear--or whatever the avian equivalent was. In the end, Harry had given up and taken to setting his head pathetically in the vicinity of Severus' lap, which the man tolerated with his usual ill humour.

"Will you credit it?" Severus muttered. "The flamingo's eye is larger than its brain. Not much of a change there, then, is there?"

Harry grunted a protest, but it was rather half-hearted.

"Well, you're obviously not the greater flamingo. For starters, you're too...pink," he said distastefully. "Aside from that, you've not the size for it. It seems whatever species you're parading as, you're doomed to be a scrawny thing, aren't you?" There was no answer this time; Snape assumed Potter was going for dignified silence, although it was just possible the long fingers ruffling the downy head were too pleasant to interrupt. "Why the headmaster has a burning desire to know your exact species is beyond me. He's just trying to drive me insane. And it's working." Snape read further. "Good Merlin, it can't be," he said flatly, in a way that said it probably was. "Let me see your feet. Your feet, blast you!"

Harry honked and snorted, kicking a leg up so that he nearly caught Severus in the face.

"Very cute, Mister Potter. That's ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek." He glanced contemptuously at the presented foot. "And it's just as I suspected. You're obviously a Phoenicoparrus jamesi--a James' flamingo."

Harry let out a bleat of excitement, tripping over himself to get at the book. He eyed the words for a moment, blinking in evident disbelief, then twisted to look up at Severus, overwhelmed.

"I'm disgusted by your apparent sentiment in settling on an Animagus form, just for your reference," the man told him. "I've never seen such a stricken look on a flamingo before, I might add. Shall I go on, or would you like to swoon and twitter dramatically first? No? Very well. It says here that you belong to the smallest, most delicate species," he noted.

Harry shrieked angrily at this, stamping a webbed foot on the floor.

"All right, ALL RIGHT, you've made your point! Stop that, or Madam Pince will toss us out on our ears," Snape admonished. "And there's no use arguing; it's the book saying it, not me. With honks, grunts, growls, and so on, flamingos are noisy creatures. I must admit that's fitting, whatever your feelings on the subject might be. Stop pouting. How on earth is it that you can convey pouting, when you haven't any lips? In comparison with other birds, flamingos are more prone to preening. The similarities just pile up, don't they? Don't peck at me! Potter! You communist-coloured menace!"

OoOoOoOoO

"I suppose I should at least be happy that we found out as much as we did before you got us thrown out," Snape sighed, stalking down the hall as Potter followed him on inelegant stalks.

Potter did not respond.

After reporting his finds to the headmaster, Snape was moved to ask, "Has any progress been made on the bracelet?"

The headmaster was sober as he shook his head. "I sent for Mundungus, but he doesn't know very much. It was, unsurprisingly, an impulse that caused him to take the thing, and he didn't research it first."

Snape hissed in disgust. "Well, I've done my martyrdom for the day. I'm for bed, now."

He was almost to the dungeon stairs before he came to the realization that the Potter brat was still stalking him. "And what do you think you're doing?" he demanded coldly, coming to a halt.

Harry didn't answer, but bowed several times.

Snape huffed. "You must think yourself very amusing. Come on, then. I haven't all night to waste on the likes of you."

Several times during the night, the Potions Master awoke, thinking the whole day had been too surreal to be anything but a dream. He'd have to reach out and touch the bird to be sure, softly stroking the pink plumes. Potter would wake up, ruffle his feathers, and give Snape an oddly fond look before tucking his head beneath his wing again.

OoOoOoOoO

"Ooooo, isn't she beautiful?" Ginny Weasley was cooing.

Snape gave his most incinerating glare to the group of girls chattering all round Potter. "He is nothing of the sort, Miss Weasley," he snapped. "He's merely a flamingo, like any other damn flamingo you're likely to see, neither more nor less attractive than any of them. And even if he were the most ravishing beauty of a flamingo in existence, it would hardly excuse you from failing to take your seat."

The girls hurried to their desks, throwing many a longing look at Harry, who had his head hidden in the most obnoxious, adorably shy manner he could muster.

One of the Slytherins dared to raise his hand. "Why've you got him, sir?"

"Because I drew the short straw, and I'll not tolerate any further questions about that bloody bird! Is that clear? Good! Open your textbooks. We'll be brewing Mending Mixtures today, and I want all eyes on me. The first one who glances at that perfidious peacock gets out of class early--and loses a day's marks."

Four people got thrown out of class because they simply couldn't stop staring at Harry. Of course, it was difficult not to stare at Harry, bright pink and splashing happily in his Muggle contraption that the headmaster had dredged up from somewhere. A paddling pool, was it? In any case, having it and the flamingo in the corner of the Potions classroom was a major distraction, and one that Severus resented the hell out of. Plus, as the Granger terror had to point out, it was so cheerful and sunny. It simply ruined the ambiance of Severus' dungeons.

Severus hadn't exactly drawn any 'short straw,' except in the least literal sense. Harry had simply chosen him--and his dungeons--and seemed to not want to leave. All informed parties had discussed that at length, how odd it was that a tropical bird chose the chilliest rooms in Hogwarts, how strange it was that Snape allowed this, and how fascinating it was that there appeared to be a bond developing between the pair.

Snape scowled sourly at the beast when his last class had gone for the day. "Oh, you just revelled in that, didn't you? Like you don't get enough attention at the best of times. Now you feel the need to invade my dungeons with your gaudy arrogance?"

Harry gave a pitiful sort of growl, one leg tucked up high against the cold.

"Bugger, I'm going to have to reset the warming charms, aren't I? Bothersome creature that you are." He immediately cast several around the pool, causing the boy to perk up a bit.

"Severus! How are you and young Harry getting along?" Dumbledore entered, levitating a container of something in front of him.

"Like a house on fire," Severus replied in a dead sort of voice. "What is that?"

"Flamingo chow, my dear boy."

"I refuse to believe such a thing exists."

The headmaster merely twinkled at this. "If that sort of thing would work, I'd try it on Tom and be done with him. As it is..."

"Yes, I take your point," Severus sighed. "And there's a meeting coming up. You'll have to keep an eye on the boy, if he's not turned back by then. Speaking of which, has there been any development at all? Do tell me I'm not to be cursed with this pink plague for the rest of my days."

"Actually, there is good news. On the advice of Phineas, we're looking to track down the journal of Wulfric Black, who seems to have had a collection of such things."

Severus watched as the food was dumped into the water, and Harry immediately began feeding, turning his head upside down and swishing it back and forth. "You look like an absolute fool," Snape informed him. The flamingo paused long enough to give him an affronted look before returning to its meal.

"Harry seems to have taken a shine to you," Dumbledore noted at one point, when Harry's head was underwater. "And I'm told that if you leave him for any period of time, he simply dances upon your return."

"I can't think why, and I shudder to think of the implications," Severus replied dourly. "If I've suddenly developed a winning personality, you will let me know, so that I might promptly off myself, won't you?"

The headmaster gave him a look of admonishment and a quick pat on the arm. "Chin up, my boy. I'm very optimistic."

"I'll express my shock at that after I've managed to work some up. In the meanwhile, do hurry. For my sanity's sake, if nothing else." Severus watched the man leave, a burgeoning sense of despair filling his chest. Potter hadn't been much of a hope for a saviour even when he'd had his normal form and been able to wield a wand. The idea that the hero of the Wizarding world was now pink, feathered, and currently ducking his head repeatedly into a pool of murky water did not bode well.

OoOoOoOoO

The Potions Master left for the meeting by broom, sometime just after dusk. Harry nodded when the man told him to stay, but legged it right up the steps and outside as soon as he could. Snape might be a bastard, but he was Harry's bastard, and Harry was damned if he'd let the man get himself killed.

The worst part of being a bird, Harry felt, was the inability to think clearly. At least ninety percent of his mind seemed to be devoted to eating and craning his head in odd ways. It was instinct, and made it difficult to think of anything else.

What Harry didn't realize was that going after Snape was instinct, too. Flamingos are social birds. They live in large colonies for their protection, and they fly in flocks. Harry supposed it was the great beak on Snape, but he tended to think of the man as one of his own.

He hardly thought twice about taking a great running leap and following the man on the broom. The moment he was airborne, really airborne, Harry felt a great rush of joy. Not only did he not need an airplane, he no longer even required a broom to fly! With the wind tickling through his feathers, he flapped into the night, elation singing in his heart.

It nearly made up for being pink.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape arrived at the latest gathering of Death Eaters with some trepidation.

"Hello, Severus," a polite voice drawled.

"Hello, Lucius," he responded. "How good of you to give up the Manor to the cause."

The blond sneered genteelly. "Quite. I'm so happy to have something to give, for the cause."

Before Severus could answer, there was a strident voice behind him. "Good lord! What the bloody hell is that thing? Is that one of Narcissa's new hobbies, then?" The Potions Master turned to give Avery a scathing glance; one was not supposed to talk of trivial things like hobbies, or social lives, or families.

When Snape realized what Avery was pointing at, his jaw dropped.

Crabbe, who was standing beside Avery, said in a slow voice, "That's a...isn't that a...flamenco?"

Lucius was peering at the bird with the concentration of a man who knows he is surrounded by fools, and will be called upon later to give the only reliable account possible. "Don't be daft. Flamenco is a style of Spanish dance, guitar, and singing. I believe the word you were lumbering toward was 'flamingo.' And no, it does not belong to my wife."

Severus swallowed, his mouth suddenly quite dry.

Lucius turned to him. "It is interesting to note, though, that my son reports his favourite professor, Snape, having let such a creature take up residence in his class. The odds on that must be incalculable."

"You sodding wretch," Snape snarled at the flamingo, which promptly hid its head in shame. The man tried to compose himself. "Yes. It's mine. Not that I chose it. It just...showed up."

"How peculiar," Lucius remarked, arching a brow. "And they're so rare...perhaps it escaped from some bestiary?"

"Perhaps," Snape forced out.

"And yet it's wearing a collar of some sort. If it's got identification, you ought to return it to its proper owners," Lucius said, as though he were the sort of law-abiding citizen who would do that very thing.

"I put that on," Snape said hurriedly, as the man approached Potter.

Harry squawked when the Death Eater got too close, fluttering and landing a bit further away. "Skittish, isn't he?" Lucius whipped out his wand, immobilizing Harry until the man could pick him up.

"That is entirely uncalled for," Snape informed him.

Lucius gave him a small smile. "I think our master would like to meet your pet, n'est-ce pas?" He turned to Avery and Crabbe. "Tell the Dark Lord of this," he instructed, and they rushed to do so.

Severus swallowed again, this time attempting to dislodge his heart from his throat. Harry Potter had been captured by the Death Eaters. Snape's only hope was that they wouldn't realize it.

OoOoOoOoO

For some reason, Harry had imagined Voldemort thundering out, laying his eyes on Harry, and screaming, 'There he is--my archenemy, Potter!' before issuing an immediate and terminal Avada Kedavra. He expected the man to know him on sight, whatever form he was currently in.

He was just a little taken aback when the man stomped out, gave Lucius and Harry an unflattering look of disinterest, and asked, "Why, exactly, has my planning been interrupted for this?"

Lucius suddenly became nervous. "Ah. I...thought it odd, Master, that such a creature would even exist in England, let alone become a familiar to...er, to Snape. Does it not strike you as suspicious?"

"I am always suspicious; paranoia has kept me alive even when spells could not. But frankly, no. I can easily see why the thing chose Severus; they share the same unsightly profile, for one thing. It probably thinks it's found a mate. It was likely part of some exhibition of animals and got loose."

"But Master..."

"I'm NOT AFRAID of a GREAT DAMNED PINK BIRD, LUCIUS!" Voldemort roared, seeming to read a great insult into being alerted to the flamingo's presence. "And I will not be made a fool of!" He lifted his hand, wand ready for an Unforgivable.

Harry realized that his body was between the men, and that he'd probably take the brunt of the curse. He struggled valiantly, but Lucius' grip was tight with terror.

"My Lord, no!" Severus cried, throwing himself forward.

Voldemort was livid. "I have had ENOUGH insubordination for one night! Crucio!" he cried.

Snape fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Harry erupted from Lucius' arms, flailing madly. He loped toward Severus, who was shaking, but no longer under the curse.

Voldemort's attention was on Harry.

Before Harry could reach the man, there was a great whoosh of air beside him, and he looked about to see Lucius Malfoy wielding a broom. "Foul bird," he snarled, raising the stick above his head. "I'll teach you to make me look an idiot!" Malfoy swung the broom and Harry leapt, honking loudly as it grazed his side. Another swing, and the head of the broom smacked down on the ground beside the bird.

Harry gave a deafening shriek, rushing at the man with a great flurry of wings, long neck flexing to jab Malfoy again and again. Lucius finally had the presence of mind to reach for his wand, but Harry plucked it out of his hands.

An odd sound enveloped the fighters; a frightening, high, cold laugh. It went on and on, rising to a cackle, falling to a menacing rumble, and both Harry and his assailant gradually stilled, looking in alarm at the source of the sounds.

Lucius' normally pristine hair was bedraggled, and his forehead was bleeding a little. "Master?" he called tentatively, his eyes full of fear.

Voldemort gave the pair a twisted smile. "Most amusing. Of course, I'm not at all pleased that one of my most trusted servants could be bested by a pink ball of feathers..."

"I'm sorry, Master," Lucius replied desperately. "I'll roast it where it stands, for your pleasure."

The Dark Lord's eyes were filled with madness, but they were no longer directed at the scene in front of him. "No, leave Severus his little pet. A familiar can be most useful. Perhaps I could find a way to work it into my plan. After all, a silly-looking bird...most innocuous..." He wandered back into the Manor, still muttering to himself.

Lucius shot Snape a resentful look, but followed Voldemort quickly.

Snape sat up, still breathing rather heavily. "You ruddy nightmare of a lawn ornament! You nearly got us both killed."

Harry made soothing noises and rubbed his beak against the Potions Master's cheek.

After a few moments, Snape relented, reluctantly scratching the bird's head. "I have to go in now. Don't you dare follow me."

Harry bobbed around the man, distressed, but Snape insisted on attending the meeting, despite his dose of the Cruciatus Curse. As he watched the Potions Master disappear into the Manor, Harry wasn't sure if he was more frustrated that the man wouldn't leave, or if he was just impressed by the balls it took to go in after all that. Such an odd mixture of exasperation and admiration.

Then he wondered if that was how Snape usually felt about him.

OoOoOoOoO

Snape opened his eyes, blinking tiredly. There was a weight across his stomach, and he looked down to see a supple expanse of arm reaching across him. There was also a shaggy head resting somewhere near his thigh, and a gawky, teenaged body in a chair beside the bed.

He ran a finger down that length of arm, remembering a long, sinuous neck. Goosebumps followed the path of his finger, and a shiver ran through the boy's body.

"You should be in bed," he said in the harshest tone possible.

Harry looked up and gave him a sleepy smile. "I half am."

"Imp," Snape said in a disapproving voice. "How did they manage to get you back to--and I use the term loosely--normal?"

Harry's smile widened, and he stretched hugely, yawning. "They found it in the book. It had to be someone of Black blood to undo the latch, that was all."

"And this wasn't a problem, with the last Black dead?"

"Only the last in name. Hermione tricked Draco into doing it. She and Ron staged a conversation about how you kept me because..." he ducked his head, looking embarrassed. "Because the bracelet was charmed to make me lay golden eggs. She went on about how that's why you made a big deal out of insisting I was a male--so that no one would guess. And he's greedy, and a Malfoy, and he just had to have it for himself. McGonagall 'caught' him with it right off."

"You didn't give yourself away?"

Harry shook his head. "I waited until he was well away before changing back. Anyway, at least I know I can do it now, even if it isn't a glorious animal."

"And how shall I explain the sudden absence of flamingo in my environment?" Snape raised a brow.

Harry laughed. "We can just let Draco think that now that I can't lay golden eggs, you decided I was too much bother to keep around."

"Amen to that," Snape replied. He looked at Harry shrewdly. "I trust this means no more of that embarrassing mating dance?"

Harry flushed, and suddenly became interested by his feet. "Sorry about that," he muttered.

"Well...I trust you can find your own way back to your dormitory? Or has your stint as an over-pigmented goose addled your brain too much for that?"

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, as if trying to get his courage up. Finally, he ducked his head down and pressed his lips to Snape's, shocking the man.

They were cool and chapped and clumsy, and almost unbearably sweet. Severus didn't even realise he was returning the kiss until he felt his fingers threading through that feathery, unruly hair.

Harry pulled away, blushing furiously, his face the exact shade of his counterpart's plumage. He gave the man a lopsided smile. "I liked being your familiar," he confided. He turned to leave.

"Potter?"

The boy paused, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

Snape allowed himself a small smirk. "You're quite pretty in pink."