What He's Always Wanted

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

AN: The third and final chapter. I hope you folks enjoyed the ride. Not a lot of Severus or Hermione in this chapter, but I think it is dead good anyway since you get Owen and Trueblue.

My undying gratitude to Tevildo for beta-ing not only this chapter, but the other two as well. Someday I will remember to mention his greatness in every chapter... until then, I will flog myself for forgetting!

Owen Vogeldenk wiped the sweat from his face before it dripped onto the newly attached wooden shingles. Whoever had said that being a magizoologist would be a glamorous career choice had obviously never done any fieldwork. More often than not you ended up doing things totally unrelated to the animal you were studying... like building breeding-houses. At least that had some bearing on his study.

Three new breeding-houses in fact. They stood in a neat line, tucked in under the cliff overhang. Each was roughly fifteen by eight feet in size, each built from local timber and the sweat of his brow.

Speaking of which... He wiped at his face again, this time using his shirt. Gods, spring was muggy in this part of the world. This was his second time at the site. The first had just been a quick assessment and marking exercise; he had worked as quickly and efficiently as possible, as Madam Snape had requested, finishing his work - which normally would have required at least three weeks - in ten days.

The villagers were much more at ease with him this time around. Madam Snape had stressed the importance of maintaining good relations with these people, but luckily Owen was from a small village himself and his quiet charm had won them over.

A week into his second visit, he had been invited to another house for dinner, setting the trend for the rest of his stay. It wasn't lost on him that all the families whom invited him over had daughters of marrying age. He had laughed at the implications, reliving his childhood and understanding what it was like to have 'new blood' in the village.

Far from trying to get rid of him as soon as possible, the village seemed to be dragging its collective feet. 'Delays in timber shipments' meant that he was now a week behind schedule. He suspected that a few of the young ladies were vying for the extra dinner dates. Shaking his head in amusement, he slid expertly down the ladder.

There was still much to be done – the hatching trays had to be installed in Breeding House One, along with incubation and turning charms, the special feed mixes for Breeding Houses Two and Three had not yet arrived, nor had a feeding schedule been set up.

Owen pulled irritably at the shirt clinging to his body, finally giving up and stripping it off. Wiping at himself with the discarded shirt he sought some shade to go over his planning.

Not being able to resist a good wriggle against the rough bark to relieve an itch in the small of his back, he settled against the tree. A flutter of wings announced her arrival, her claws digging uncomfortably, but not painfully, into his shoulder.

"What's up, Trueblue?" he mumbled, absentmindedly ruffling her white chestfeathers. The bird made a contented noise and preened Owen's short-cropped blonde hair. He smiled as she settled against his cheek, dozing. A wonderful sense of peace always rippled over him when she was perched on his shoulder, helping him concentrate. She had been one of the first birds he had captured and ringed – a young female, marked with three blue rings, hence her pet name. She had taken a shine to him, following him around, keeping him company when he had to do paperwork. She already had a mate – Red-red-white – but she was an incurable flirt. Owen was hoping she would breed for the first time this year.

Owen checked over his census numbers. The anti-predator wards had worked wonders and quite a few of the very young birds he had marked in October were still alive and kicking. Tobias said they had tried to erect fences in the past, but the foxes had always found their weak spots, rendering them useless. They had started shooting any fox they came across, but this had just opened up space and resources for younger foxes from the surrounding areas.

Owen had also marked each breeding nest he found with the corresponding female's colour code. A simple Demonsignio charm would make the nest pulse with an amber light when it contained an egg. The young women in the village had all been very eager to tend to the scraped knees and elbows he got from clambering around in trees all day, much to the chagrin of the young men. Owen had just smiled helplessly and it soon became a running joke – the young women turning out with first-aid kits and fussing over him while the young men groaned good-naturedly and 'rescued' him for a drink in The White Crow.

Now... a feeding schedule... He tapped his pencil against his notepad (these were so much more convenient than lugging parchment, ink and quill about!), rubbing at the day-old stubble on his chin.

"Mr Vogeldenk, we do not pay you to laze about half-naked under trees."

The unexpected voice made Owen start violently. Trueblue woke up at the jostling, cawing indignantly. A figure in black robes was striding across the grass towards them. Owen scrambled to his feet.

"Professor Snape," he gasped in greeting, extending a hand as the man drew near. This was the first time Owen had seen the effects of the Caladrius up close.

"Oh, do stop ogling me, Mr Vogeldenk. I grow quite weary of the scrutiny," the dark man drawled with a hint of exasperation in his voice as he shook the younger man's hand. "Getting attached to your charges?"

"What...? Oh, Trueblue just likes following me around, sir," Owen explained hastily. Damn, he wasn't in his class anymore, but the man's intimidation had run deep. It was clear that he had mellowed after the war, but 'old habits die hard' and all that.

"It is best," Snape quirked an eyebrow, but there was a certain sadness in his eyes, "that we do not think of them as individuals, Mr Vogeldenk."

"I know, sir. We're breeding them for a very important purpose," the magizoologist replied, as if reading the line from his research proposal. "We're ready for the breeding season, sir. Just a few more things to sort out." Owen felt Trueblue leaning forward on his shoulder to get a closer look at Snape.

Snape seemed as mesmerised by the bird as she was by him. "Good, good," he murmured, his eyes not leaving hers. The older man's eyes widened in panic when she hop-flitted over to his shoulder.

"No, you blasted bird! Get away!"

"Professor! Stay calm, she won't do anything. She's perched on my shoulder for hours with nothing happening to her or me. I think a patient needs to be prone before a Caladrius is able to work its magic. The worst that could happen is that she will make you feel happy."

Snape stayed perfectly still, his shoulders rigid. Trueblue regarded him, first with one eye and then the other. Owen nearly fainted in surprise when Snape laughed as Trueblue preened the ticklish area around his ear.

Trying to compose himself, Snape sputtered, "She is quite... friendly."

"That she is, sir. A right strumpet by all accounts." Owen smiled, the corners of his green eyes crinkling. "Let me show you around, sir."

***

The breeding program Owen put into motion was a roaring success, even more so in the past four years. Now he was able to monitor it all year round; he had married Beth, the inkeeper's daughter. He now had a cottage near the edge of town on the path to the valley, one small child, and another on the way. Owen knew he would never be able to publish any of his research (you never knew who read those journals, the Caladrii could just end up on the front page of The Daily Prophet) and that he would never become a big name in magizoology, but he wouldn't change what he had for the world.

He was being plastered with porridge by his daughter when the owl tapped at the window. It was Sangreal. "Thanks," he murmured, feeding the little grey owl a treat and ruffling its feathers affectionately. He knew the missive would be from Severus. Without even breaking the seal, he knew the time had come.

"Beth! I need to go to the valley. We will be receiving some guests soon," he called up the stairs. "Do you want me to bring Daisy up?"

"Gosh, no... I'll just be waddlin' downstairs like the hippo I be. Don't put yerself out," came the retort. Owen just smiled and lifted Daisy from her high chair. Beth had been this grumpy right before Daisy was born, but he knew she must be uncomfortable.

Beth was sitting up in bed, nibbling at the toast and marmalade he had brought up earlier. She shot him a cheeky smile, which he returned. "I can spot a hint when I hear it," he said as he deposited Daisy on their bed. "Some urgent business in the valley, sweets. Could you phone Elly and tell her to expect at least five or six guests? Maybe a few more?"

"Ye men... always invitin' the world over and expectin' us to make sure everyone has room and food!" she groused, but grinned as she reached for the cordless telephone.

Owen pressed a kiss to both their foreheads before he raced down the stairs and toward the valley.

***

Neville was very nervous. He told himself it was because Snape was in such close proximity, but he had – or so he thought – outgrown his fear of the man. Besides, Snape wouldn't hex him with Hermione around... would he?

He didn't know why Hermione had insisted he come along to this village. This definitely did not look like the right kind of climate to find pyrorchids – judging from the vegetation, it was much too wet. Pyrorchids liked dampness, true, but not abject wetness. But Hermione had seemed so sure...

Neville followed them uncertainly on a small path leading out of the village and into a secluded valley. He felt the slight tingle of stepping through a ward. Something was definitely going on.

"Hermione? Where are you taking me?"

"I can't tell you yet, Neville – all I can say is that it is something you've always wanted."

Every tiny whim and desire that Neville had ever harboured in his chest flooded his thoughts. He mentally went through each, discarding them as he went along. What could they give him? Snape didn't seem the type to tie bows around pots of rare and interesting plants. He rather looked like the type who would efficiently dispose of bodies of students that used to drive him up the wall. "Hermione... What..."

"Neville... just trust me..."

"I don't un-" Neville gasped at what he saw. His parents were standing in the clearing, blinking dazedly into the sun. They looked confused... as always.

Snape called, "Owen! You may start." A young man that was standing close to the couple nodded and indicated that his two charges should lie down. He was speaking to them, and they nodded, but Neville knew they nodded at whatever you said.

Owen summoned a wicker basket to his side. Carefully opening the catch and reaching inside, he took out a large white bird and placed it on the ground between Neville's parents. Meticulously, he repeated the process, another of the birds joining its kin on the ground. The young man stepped away, taking the holding basket with him.

Human and bird looked at each other in interest. The birds hopped onto them and spread their wings across their chests. The screams of agony that erupted from his parents' mouths horrified Neville. They hadn't screamed like that since...

"What are you doing to them? You sick bastard!" Neville screamed. He wanted to rush to his parents, but Snape's grip around his upper arm had come out of nowhere, as strong as any Devil's Snare. He was terrified into silence when the man's other arm wrapped across his chest, holding him in place.

"Mr Longbottom... I must insist that you watch," the soft voice said in his ear. Neville hadn't realised that his eyes were closed and forced them open.

The birds lifted off in unison, dragging on their wings a multitude of bright red streamers that seemed to issue from the Longbottoms' very flesh. The birds spun and whirled around each other like a pair of ballroom dancers, the streamers fanning out in a haze of crimson, higher and higher into the air. At the zenith of their arc, they abruptly burst into flames.

Neville watched open-mouthed as his father sat up unsteadily, shaking his head as if waking up... and then reached to help his mother. This time, Snape let him run to them.

Tears were streaming down his round face. "Mum? Dad?"

His mother smiled at him, her eyes focused on him – for the first time in his life she saw him. Just as in his dreams when he was a small boy, she opened her arms and hugged him close to her. "Neville," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I've missed you so much."

THE END.

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