Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)

Chapter 1

The porcelain is cool and smooth underneath his fingertips. He clenches the sink harder and tries to breathe, but the air is hot all around him. Each gulp sinks past his chest to rest in the pit of his stomach, pulsing with nameless energy. It isn't anger - or, at least, it isn't just anger - but so many other emotions, too much, and Severus wants to run, to cut himself free of all these tangled wires that ties him to this place.

Instead, he turns on the faucet and captures the water in his palm. He brings it up to his hair, running his fingers through the pink-coloured strands in an attempt to wash away the sticky goo that clings to him. A potion was thrown at him while on his way to the Great Hall. The glass bottle shattered against the back of his head, cutting into him, coating him in this... mess. Severus dips his head into the sink, letting the water flow over him. When he lifts his head again and looks into the bathroom mirror, he sees globs of the stuff still sticking to his scalp. He lets out a huff, brings his fingers back up to comb through his hair, and feels something tug free.

The hot air churning in his stomach freezes into a ball of ice as he stands perfectly still, afraid to move. He gently - so very gently - tugs and he watches in horror as a clump of his hair pulls free from his scalp. He screams.

"It was Potter, I swear!" He shouts, hours later, while sitting in the infirmary. His hair is patchy. There's already a soft, black fuzz growing where the potion had left him bald, courtesy of Madam Pomfrey. Still, Severus can't bring himself to stop touching it, to reassure himself that it is growing back, that he wouldn't end up looking even more like a freak than he already did.

"Nobody else saw Mr Potter in that corridor," Professor McGonagall tells him with a put-upon sigh. "You can't blame him for everything. It could have been anyone."

That is the worst part. She is right. Potter isn't the only one who enjoys having a go at him. There is no safe place to hide, not here.

McGonagall must feel some pity for him, because she says, her voice soft, "You're excused from your classes for the rest of the day. Don't worry, it'll grow back. You'll look as good as new by tomorrow morning."

Severus lets himself fall back onto the hospital bed, sinking into the downy pillows. Madam Pomfrey draws the curtains closed around him, shielding him from the outside world, protecting him. Severus draws in a proper breath in what seems like ages, that heavy ball resting in his stomach lifting a little as he stares at the dust floating through the white, gauzy curtain that cocoons him.

*****

Contrary to what Snivellus believed, James Potter didn't often think about the other boy. In fact, he didn't think about him at all. The moment the greasy git left his line of sight, he ceased to exist as far as James was concerned. He couldn't imagine the Slytherin doing normal things; when he did think about Severus Snape, he imagined that the other boy must spend his summers hanging upside down like a bat, hibernating, until it was time for school to start up again.

And so, it took him several days to realize that he hadn't seen so much as a glimpse of Snivellus this past week, not until he slid into the chair beside Sirius for their last Potions lesson of that year. Remus and Peter had both elected to drop the course after their O.W.L.s, but a passing N.E.W.T. score in Potions was a requirement for the Auror program, which meant he and Sirius were stuck taking it for another year.

James doodled along the margins of his parchment, not bothering to pay attention to Slughorn as he droned on about their upcoming exam. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker over to where Lily sat beside Mary, their heads nearly pressed together as they passed each other notes. They both wore their hair long, and the ends tangled together as they shook their heads with silent laughter at what Lily had scribbled on the torn sheet of parchment. Fiery red twisted together with inky black. Unconsciously, James's gaze drifted over to a table where two Ravenclaws were taking notes. That was wrong. They weren't supposed to be there. That was where Snivellus always sat. Snivellus and Lily, except Lily had moved over next to Mary after the ugly bat had called her the M-word. Now the table belongs solely to Snivellus. Nobody else wanted to sit with him.