KayCee (ex_kaycee154) wrote in do_me_veela, @ 2009-02-24 02:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, pairing: harry/severus, rated:r, veela fest 2009 |
Save Me, I'm Lost, Part Two - by winnett
Title: Save Me, I'm Lost
Author/artist: winnett
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: R
Word count: Approximately 21,500
Summary: A secret that should have been carried away by dead men reveals Harry's unexpected, and undesired, heritage.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. I just like to let them out to play.
Author's notes: Thank you to my amazing betas: kannnichtfranz, megyal, _tehrin, cyn_ful. I didn't go into the past too much but started with the revelation of the truth. Creature!fic. Harry is a veela hybrid.
Prompt: Prompt from emmy.
Sometime shortly after her marriage to James, Lily is kidnapped by DeathEaters. She is rescued by the order, but not before being raped by Lucius Malfoy who is a half-veela. Lily discovers she is pregnant and the baby is Lucius's, not James's. Fearing for the safety of herself and her child, Lily goes to Dumbledore. Dumbledore agrees to help the young couple and soon after Harry's birth he casts a powerful spell that would hide the boy's true parentage and nature until after Voldemort's defeat.
Snape survives Nagini's bite and is charged with the task of telling Harry the truth about himself and casting the counterspell to release Harry's true nature in a letter left to him by Dumbledore. After he removes the spell cast on Harry, Snape's stunned to find that Harry's veela nature strongly calls to him. DH-complaint, not epilogue-compliant.
Optional: 1) Harry doesn't look like a typical veela after the counterspell. I'm thinking green eyes and possibly red or reddish orange streaks in his hair. No pale blonde Malfoy clone here!
2) Draco Malfoy also discovers Harry's relation to him and his reaction: whether he becomes close friends or not with Harry and whether he accepts him as a Malfoy.
Snoozing in the afternoon light, curled up next to his person on a short sofa they'd moved to the big room, he thought about the other, the one who smelled like he did himself. It had been days since the other had run away, and he wished he would return.
He understood there were many things he didn't remember, including something about the other, and that brought its own special sorrow. His mind was like a vast, empty room, walls lined with safes, each one tiny and charmed tightly shut, holding within it one experience from his life. There was no ceiling and the room stretched on forever; there were uncountable safes. He knew all this, and yet he also knew he didn't have the proper password.
In his doze he twitched, thinking of flying with his person, holding onto each other as they soared high into the moist clouds, then diving together into the lake, swimming with the fishes. His wings fluttered. Then a touch to his head, soothing fingers massaging his scalp, and his wings began purring.
"Harry."
He pressed his nose deeper into the scratchy fabric; he was relaxed and felt so safe. The feeling of safe held value beyond belief and he wanted to clutch it tight and keep it close.
"I know you are awake."
Like sun-warmed honey, the words of his person coated his skin, dipping into his pores and invading his very cells. They caressed him entirely from the bottoms of his feet to the ends of his wings and his core soaked them up like chapped earth. His entire body shivered. Still buzzing from the feather light brush of every syllable, he looked up into those black eyes.
And his breath caught.
His person was so lovely. His scent, the feel of his skin. That voice. But he knew that beyond all of those observable aspects was something more magnificent. His person was a well of protection and caring. His person overflowed with power and capability. His person loved him beyond all else.
With a slight shift of his body, he lifted and kissed the man. He tried to be gentle, because he could sense his person was off balance. He started by simply pressing their lips together, softly. Then another peck, and another. Nothing could stop each precious touch of lips; his heart swelled with joy and he kissed him again and again, rejoicing as his person's arms encircled him, and he began kissing him back. Soon their mouths lingered, loath to be torn away and as his lips parted his wings grew stiff, stretching high, reaching for the ceiling.
"Severus Snape, should you be doing that with Mr. Potter?"
His person stiffened, his lips stilled, and though he growled in protest, he pulled away.
Looking up into those dark eyes, he could see they were shimmering, wide with disbelief. Those thin lips glistened; he leaned forward to capture them again.
His person pulled away.
"No, Harry."
The words pierced the balloon that had been inflating within his chest.
Again, he leaned forward.
"Harry. No." Gentle hands held him away. "Stop."
His person shifted his eyes from his face to something over his shoulder. He turned to look. The kind woman with the white headdress stood here, a full glass in her hand. He turned back to his person, unsure.
Did he do something wrong?
Did his person not want him?
His wings lowered, slumped until their tips hit the tiles of the floor; all that pent up energy evaporated. He let his gaze slip from his person's rigid frown to the center of his chest.
Tightness filled his chest this time and he struggled to keep his eyes lowered, not wanting to see hatred or disappointment or… disgust. Memories of those things flared up in his mind like flames and he withdrew from their heat.
"Harry…." The voice was low, and a hand ran through his hair. "I didn't mean to alarm you. But… Ah, well… We can't be acting in such an inappropriate manner." A swallow intersected the words. "It's not that—"
"Oh Severus, you're giving the lad mixed signals now."
The petting stopped. He lifted his chin and searched those eyes. He knew something was in there. Something he needed to see, or know. The truth.
So he pushed his gaze, injected his thoughts into the other man's. His person's eyes flew wide and with a sudden release, his mind was flooded and the doors of a million little boxes all slammed open, and with that, all of his experiences and life spilled into every crevice of his mind and he promptly blacked out.
~~~
He'd refused to wait amongst the gathering of his peers. Like wretched character witnesses waiting for the final verdict that would shunt their wrongly accused benefactor to his well deserved prison, they wrung their hands, shared worried looks and generally dirtied the place up with their concern.
It was funny, with moments like these, how some people pulled together. Draco remembered standing by his mother's side as his father's sentence was announced to a room full of hatchet men. Nobody there had worried, had gripped each other's hands fretting about fairness. They had drooled like rabid beasts, waiting for the victim to fall.
Severus had intruded on his quiet dinner and dragged Draco back to Hogwarts because his brother had collapsed after some unintentional Legilimency. Severus himself had been overwhelmed by the event and had also briefly lost consciousness. He wouldn't tell Draco what had happened in that snap of time where their minds had melded, but he could tell by the man's stiff set to his shoulders that it had affected him more than he would let on.
Since Draco was Potter's next of kin, the thought nearly bringing about a fit of giggles, he was brought to the Hospital Wing and quickly extricated himself from the small waiting room to wander the familiar halls.
"Don't go far," Severus had said… threatened, really. Draco knew that tone of voice. Merlin, the whole fucking situation was laughable. That Potter had pierced Severus' shield was enough, but the fact that they had called him in because he was next of kin. Now that… that was priceless. There had to be more to it, like they would need blood transfusions or magical compatibility tests, but just looking at the little freak—famous scar and green wings!—it was obvious to see that there was no compatibility there.
"Draco."
Draco paused his pacing and looked up to see Severus standing in the hall. He looked paler than usual, which was something of note. The snake bite still hadn't healed, and for that he felt sorry for the man.
"He has awakened and I think it would be beneficial—" Draco was already walking towards the Hospital Wing, brushing past Severus who spun around to follow behind. The sooner he joined the little party, the sooner he could get out of there.
On a bed near the entrance sat the winged freak smothered by his fans. Over Granger's bushy hair he could see Pomfrey waving her wand over Potter's head, and next to Weasley stood his older brothers, if the hair was any indicator.
At the entrance Draco stalled. Potter looked like hell. Discounting the mutation sprouting from his back, he'd gone pale, starkly white, and he had this defeated kind of hunch that Draco a few years past would have rejoiced at, but now, it just looked sad.
The moment Severus stood by his side, Potter looked over at them. If Draco had lived his life in a bread box without any human interaction, even then he could see that stark longing on his old rival's face, bald and flashing like a neon sign. Then Potter tore his eyes away, gaze planted on something near the foot of his bed and nodded as if he'd actually been listening to anything his friends were saying.
Granger turned and faced them. She took a deep breath and approached.
"Can I speak with you two?"
"You are doing so now, Granger."
She rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap, Malfoy." She grabbed Draco and Severus' arms and pulled them out into the hall. Neither put up a struggle.
In the hall, she stood facing away from them, her head tilted down, her shoulders stiff.
"He remembers almost everything now." She spoke as if speaking in a funeral home, surrounded by mourners and their dead. "He says he knows who he is, what he's done—" She turned around and faced them. "But now… he says he remembers what he used to think about certain things, how he used to feel, but he doesn't feel it anymore." She leveled her gaze at Severus. "He doesn't know what is real and what isn't. It's like there are two different halves warring inside him."
Draco harrumphed. "Oh come on. Poor, poor Potter. He is all confused. Give him a potion and send him on holiday to Jamaica. I'm sure soon enough he'll be right as rain."
He waited for Severus to scoff, to mock Potter's weak mental abilities, maybe include some remark that now with two halves he might add up to a complete idiot… but his mentor was silent. Draco glanced up at him. The man's lips were a charcoal line across his face, his nostrils held in a mid-flare.
"Sir," Granger said. "Please… could you talk to him?"
To Draco's shock, Severus nodded and returned to the Hospital Wing.
~~~
Once again, Harry hated his life. Hating it had become such a regular thing, that it took little notice of its coming and going anymore. Like a chronic rash that kept appearing and disappearing at random intervals, stupid, crazy shit kept happening to Harry Potter.
He could sense his most despised teacher (his person) standing just beyond the double doors. He knew the man stood there. Not all that far away.
His wings began to vibrate.
"Damn it," he said under his breath, reaching back and batting at his own flesh, alien and unresponsive to his desires. A ping rang from a monitor by his bed, it'd been doing that a lot, pacing Harry's thoughts, the beat of his heart.
The doors opened.
Harry tucked his hands back into his lap, buried them in the folds of the blanket. It was suddenly very warm.
Loud, almost echoing, the footsteps approached. Clack. Clack. Clack. Harry didn't want to look up, see condensation in that face, or worse, some sick amusement. He'd been hanging all over the man for the past couple weeks. Cuddled him.
Kissed him.
Oh Merlin. How could he face that down?
His wings stirred.
"Harry…."
Overwhelmed by a feeling that he'd sum up to 'what the fuck,' he looked at Snape.
Snape's face rearranged itself from something almost human, to a completely stone façade. "Potter. How are you?"
Niceties?
He swallowed, and then said, "Fine."
"Your memory has returned?"
"Appears so."
Silence now took up residence between them, slipping from the ceiling down between the flagstones. Flooding their ears, coating their tongues.
To his astonishment, Snape looked away first. "Harry," he said again, his voice low and even. Harry's wings vibrated.
"Fucking hell," he cursed, twisting around to bat at them again.
Snape had the audacity to laugh at him. Only it wasn't a mocking laugh, but something warm and shockingly welcome.
"It appears your wings tend to hum whenever I am in close proximity to you."
Harry gave up on stifling his wings' actions and let them build to a purr. He faced forward again and slumped where he sat on the bed. "I know."
"Harry, this is certainly something you can work through."
He glanced up through his lashes at Snape. His throat had grown tight and he had to focus to push the words out. "Why are you calling me Harry?"
Snape stood straighter and his eyes darted from Harry's, but were back before he was certain Snape ever looked away. And then he knew: the man was nervous. "I've grown accustomed to it." It rang like defeat.
Harry laughed, it was harsh and self-deprecating, almost a bark, and Snape frowned.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice rough, grating like two stones running against each other. He began to fiddle with his thin blanket, a soothing blue, and the bed sheet pooled in his lap.
"And why not?" Snape asked, his frown growing more grim.
"I'm sure you've better things to do. More important places to be." Harry began rolling up the edge of the bed sheet against the plane of his thighs. Soon he had a tight, little, cloth tube.
"Harry," Severus said. The word, his name, was a dense entity hanging in the air. Finally, Harry looked up. "I'm exactly where I need to be." Harry swallowed, and so did Snape. "Where I want to be," he amended. Harry let go of the sheet and it raced to unravel.
"You—What…?" Everything around him had gone pale: the black of Snape's robe, the magenta of the monitoring screen, the bright tulips Hermione had brought earlier that day. Everything was muted and so, so far away and the air was filled with an odd humming and then, like speeding backwards through a long train tunnel, Harry's world went blank.
~~~
Years ago he'd shared a conversation with Albus that made little sense until now. It was after the first fall of Voldemort, and for three years he'd been attempting to impress the precise delicacy of potions upon the thick-skulled children at the school. At times he and Albus would share a quiet moment by the fire, savoring a bottle of wine. He didn't remember if it was winter break or summer break, if the wine was a zinfandel or a pinot noir. He didn't remember what exactly had brought them to discuss the future and the especially trite subject of happiness, but he did remember something the man had said that he'd then dismissed as optimist's drivel.
The exact words had long ago unraveled, but the true essence of the tale he remembered well. Albus had said, when happiness crossed your pathway you had two choices. You could hang onto dignity and pride and turn away from the possibility to remain independent and in control. Or you threw away dignity. You threw away the need to control every aspect of your life and you opened that door, letting both chaos and hope in.
It was so … Albus. That man and his wingdings and widgets. His blind and defying optimism. That fierce expectation that if you just put your faith in people they would pull through for you.
Severus had fallen into that trap a long time ago. Albus Dumbledore was not someone anyone wanted to let down. Just his faith in you gave you super powers.
Severus shook his head, stirring up the memories and ache that had settled on his mind.
He remembered Harry crawling across the floor. He remembered the feel of his cheek pressed against his chest. Whenever Harry smiled…. Just the sight of it constricted his cantankerous heart; dutifully pushing the blood through his body without realizing its more romantic calling. He held his breath, awed at the feeling, the utter loss of his own destiny, loss of control of his soul, because right now, that smile held the ownership that heart.
And just like that, Severus no longer regretted throwing away his dignity.
~~~
"Snape admitted he wanted to be with you?"
Harry nodded.
"Ew! That's grosser than barfing up slugs…"
"Ron!"
A few hours after he'd regained consciousness, Harry had been released from the hospital. Now he sat in the kitchens with Ron and Hermione, the house-elves scurrying around to make sure they were wanting of nothing.
Hermione's eyebrows were performing extensive calisthenics all over her forehead. They went from high on her head in concern to scrunched up and low in annoyance, bouncing up and down, up and down, depending on if she spoke to Harry or Ron. Now she was scowling at Ron and the usually unflattering and disrespectful things he was saying about their Professor. Any other time, before… everything, Harry would have laughed along with his friend, now it was all he could do to keep eye contact and swallow past the log jam that had caught in his throat.
"Harry?" Hermione said, and he tore his eyes away from the zit on Ron's forehead he'd been using as a focal point to her upturned nose. "Ignore Ron. He's an idiot." His throat was dry and he wanted to drink his tea, but he couldn’t seem to make his hand lift his cup. He continued to stare at Hermione's nose.
"Oi!" Ron spat chewed bread on the table and Eppy the house-elf quickly wiped it away.
Ignoring Ron, Hermione continued. "Harry, how do you feel about Professor Snape?"
He'd been wondering that himself. He shifted on the stool and his wing caught a passing house-elf who squeaked and trotted away.
Ron swallowed and shot a queer look at Hermione. "Obviously Harry thinks he's a right git, with stringy hair and skunk breath."
"Actually…"
Hermione pushed her nose higher into the sky. "Ronald, stop trying to put words in Harry's mouth. And drop the insults, we already know what you think about Professor Snape."
"I don't think…" Harry tried again.
"Of course I'm not putting words in Harry's mouth. We both know what Harry thinks about that bloody bat. How anyone could…"
Hermione rose from her seat, throwing her napkin on the counter. "But things are no longer the same, Ron. If you hadn't noticed, Harry's mind was a blank… And look at him!" She gestured wildly towards Harry. "He's got wings."
"Way to point out the obvious, Hermione…."
Harry watched the two arguing his position without the slightest idea of what he really felt.
Their words battled midair and he grew frustrated with the sound of their voices. His pulse throbbed in his temple and he could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. With tenacious dedication his thoughts continued to return to Snape, of how he'd held Harry, of the way he made Harry feel with just a look. Safe. Like nothing in the world could hurt him ever again. Resting on the man's lap—and how will he ever live that down?—had given Harry a comfort that he'd never before felt. And his wings… Every time his wings did that vibration thing, he felt it to the center of his bones; it stirred his blood. He grew hot simply evoking the memory of the feel of it.
He'd felt nothing like it before. Like elemental phosphorus flowed through his veins.
Harry jumped to his feet. His friends dropped their half-spoken sentences and as he stole their attention. Both were panting, but they caught their breaths at the sight of Harry standing tall, his wings stretched out and a nimbus of power stirring his hair like it was caught in a soft breeze.
"Actually," he said, his voice steady like stone. "I think I like Snape. There's something…" He shook his head. "He makes me feel safe." And randy. "I don't know what's happened, but things aren't like they were before."
Ron grimaced. "But he's old, and unclean, and ugly as hell and…
"… and he's not very nice," Hermione interrupted.
The house-elves had all gone still. Not even the clatter of wooden spoons on bowls could be heard. "I know…" he said to Ron, then he faced Hermione, "…but he is to me."
~~~
At the edge of the great lake, nestled between two patches of evergreens, Harry found some peace. Between Hermione attempting to hammer her version of sense into his brain and Ron flying off the handle every time he took a breath, Harry hadn't had a moment of quiet for three days. Every instant of every day, one of them was by his side. Every instant of that, Harry wished he could escape.
It was the arrival of McGonagall and Sprout that helped in his break away from his friends. The Professors and other school employees had discussed the arrival of more construction mages and a pack of volunteers who were going to begin the major clean-up of the castle. She gave Harry the once over, didn't even comment on his wings, just told him she was happy he was safe and again expressed her appreciation of his 'stalwart determination to see it all through.'
She'd asked Hermione to help her arrange the work schedule of the volunteers, and Ron had followed along. If he weren't so annoyed with them, he'd be amused. Actually, he was jealous. They were normal. They didn't have to smother recurring urges to go cuddle up with dirty, old men.
And speaking of dirty, old men—he hadn't seen Snape the whole time. Though he tried to shove the man out of his mind, he couldn't help his ever-watchful survey of everyone who passed by, of searching after every sound that creaked around him.
The July sun blazed above him and a gentle wind ruffled the edges of the lake, bringing out sparkling embers. Since his change, the water called to him. The water and the sky. He looked up and saw a bird soaring on an updraft. It was a feeling in his bones; he should be up there with it.
He glanced around. Nobody else was near the lake.
Right after Harry'd gained his mind again, Hermione had modified all of his shirts with an ingenious charm, so that a single phrase caused a seam to split down the back and he could pull it on over his wings. It would seal again at another phrase. He really was lucky to have such a brilliant friend. He spoke the phrase and his shirt seam split and he slipped it off. Raising his wings, he flapped.
It was so freeing, like running around naked. First, drawing his wings up high over his head, then snapping them down, he stirred up a draft that caused the tall grasses to dance. Another flap, another, repeating the motion over and over, but no matter how hard he tried, he didn't lift off the ground.
Maybe he needed to jump off a height, like the Tower, or cast a Lightening Charm on himself.
It didn't take long for him to exhaust himself, and streams of sweat slid down his chest and between his wing bones. The July heat had toasted his skin and the lake gave off a cool radiance. With a quick inspection of the hill above the lake to assure he was still alone, he slipped off his trousers and shoes and then leapt into the water.
"Holy shite!" he cried out as he broke the surface for air. The lake was cold, even as the end of July approached. With another deep breath he dove back down, for once pleased his wings weren't angelic. Underwater, he found that he could propel himself in sharp spurts. Flap, flap, he raced through the water, then surfaced for air, and down he went again. The water slid over his skin and the sensation soothed some genetic agitation. In the water, he belonged.
And as he cruised through the depths of the lake, startling the merfolk and grindylows, Harry's thoughts kept returning to Snape. Something about that man belonged, too.
~~~
From the shadows of the trees Severus watched Harry. He couldn't help but stare at the young man. His body was toned, long and lanky. And his wings, like those of dragons, broad and powerful as Harry flapped them in his attempt to fly. Severus had always thought Lucius a handsome man, but that pompous nature always had a sobering affect. But Harry. Right now he was innocent, pure, and for some reason had innately chosen Severus.
He'd been under for a long time and Severus began to worry, but a broiling to the water's surface announced the arrival of the strange young man. With the power of a geyser, Harry burst from the embrace of the water. As he erupted from the water, his body glistening and stretched taut, his wings fully thrust downward, Severus caught his breath in awe. Nothing on this earth held such beauty as Harry Potter.
With a splash he landed in the water again, and like a porpoise, he dove in and out, laughing as he caught his breath, then down he would go again. Watching, Severus emerged from the trees and step by step drew near to the water's edge, completely and totally enthralled.
He wasn't quite aware of standing on the lake's bank until the young man emerged from the water, dripping and totally naked. And staring at Severus.
"Uh… Hello." Harry ran his hand through his hair, then as if in afterthought, shrank back into the water. "I'm… uh… naked."
Severus chuckled. "I realize."
The wind rose and pulled at the tips of his hair, causing them to cross his field of vision so that at brief, unwanted moments he wasn't looking at Harry.
"You must be cold. Why don't you come out?" Severus inwardly cringed. Where had that come from? He sounded like a child molester offering candy to little boys. But, he reminded himself, Harry wasn't a child. In about a week he would be eighteen.
Severus pulled off his summer robe, and lifted it in Harry's direction.
Severus waited, he'd always been good at biding his time, and it wasn't long until Harry moved towards him. Harry's progress cut a wake in the water's surface paralleled by two smaller clones created where his hands trailed in the water.
As he emerged, Severus allowed his eyes to roam over that body again and he swore Harry stood straighter, as if presenting himself for inspection.
And soon, the wings began purring. Tiny droplets sprayed through the air.
"Damn," Harry said, looking away from Severus as he took the robe. He studied it, and then draped it over his front like a chastity garment. "I don’t know why they do that."
"It is because something innate within you is attracted to something innate within me." And what that something was, Severus wasn't sure. All he knew was that it was unexpected and completely welcomed.
Unsure of what the next step was, Severus knew that Harry laughing wasn't it.
"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "I guess you're right. I'm like a cat who purrs when petted. I can't not purr when you're around."
He looked at Severus then, and offered up one of his shy smiles.
Suddenly, the world was spinning and Severus took a step to steady himself.
"Snape, are you okay?" Harry asked, grabbing for his elbow.
Harry was standing right next to him, and Severus reached out to capture his waist with an arm. Pulling him close, he brushed the length of his nose up along Harry's shoulder, along his neck, dipped it into the sensuous curves of his outer ear. The perfume of Harry's scent saturated the air.
Harry brushed his hand along Severus' spine. Up and down, soothing. "You okay?" he asked again.
Severus pulled away and faced the young man in his arms. He was smiling up at him, those eyes completely unguarded and brimming with emotions that Severus himself had long ago snuffed out. Or thought he had. That person he was, that he'd built to withstand a life defined by bad choices and even worse tattoos, was long lost and Severus realized he had no regrets.
"Yes." With feral instinct he pulled the shorter man tight to his chest. Burying his nose in the pillow of soft hair he hmmed. That scent, it held romantic notions like hope and happiness. Forgiveness.
Merlin. Was it even possible?
Then Severus felt something wrap around him, and he opened his eyes to see the two of them encased within a cocoon of leathery wings.
They fit. Perfectly. Like the crazy DNA swimming in Potter's genes, an entwined double helix. He was no longer hopeless, no longer homeless. Perhaps he had finally been found.
Harry sagged forward and rested his head against Severus' chest; he was shivering like a scared kitten. So close, he was touching him. It seemed impossible that he couldn't feel Severus' heart racing like a bird's, ready to burst from his chest at the fear, the excitement, the need.
"Snape… Severus, I—" Harry swallowed, his hands roving up Severus' chest to grasp onto the thin fabric of his shirt. "I can't stop this anymore. I can't—" Then Harry's face tilted up. In the filtered light, murky through the membranous layer of skin, his eyes were huge, frantic and of the deepest green Severus had ever seen. The scent of him tantalize Severus' nostrils, bombarding him with veela pheromones, and something else completely unknown. Suddenly, he was dizzy. Then a shudder ran through Harry's body, along his arms, his torso, down his legs, like an earthquake, and the tremors passed on into Severus' own bones. "I need you."
He held Harry tighter. "I'm here, Harry. I'm here."
And then, Severus kissed him.
~~~
Completely bored and out of sorts, trapped in the small manor he and his mother shared, Draco decided to join the volunteer crew repairing Hogwarts. Merlin knew that his final year at Hogwarts had been a waste and McGonagall had informed the seventh years that if they returned to volunteer, they could also receive class instruction. Draco didn't lie to himself, he knew that replacing his disastrous final year would require hiring magical tutelage. However, he'd become quite handy at basic household furniture repair. He figured he could teach the rest of these plebeians a thing or two.
There were about twenty-five students from his year who chose to volunteer for the lessons. Only six of them were Slytherin, including himself. Most were Ravenclaw, and wasn't that a shocking revelation? Other people had arrived by the Express as well. People who needed to work off community service, people who just wanted to help. Draco thought that breed needed to find a day job.
En masse, the group left the train station and began the trek over the hills to Hogwarts. Lovegood and Smith smiled and waved at him. Draco nodded in return. Back in school, where he'd been Prince of his kingdom, he'd often walked this road, spurning the carriages that most of the students took. The path was lined with beech trees, and in the early spring he knew where a patch of snowdrops would sprout every year. His mother had grown snowdrops.
She'd been so good to him when he was younger. Her words were sacrosanct, her touch could heal the plague. He respected his father, even after all his irresponsible mistakes, but he loved his mother. Now his mother held a chip on her shoulder the size of Gibraltar and she hated the world.
She'd supported his father till the end, and Draco harbored the assumption that she resented her husband for how it all turned out. She'd lost everything. Her husband, the manor, the respect she'd earned as well as the deference to her bloodline. The only thing she now had left was Draco.
He hadn't yet told her about Potter. Breaking his mother's heart wasn’t high on his list of things to do. Though he knew he'd have to tell her eventually, before the tale of the great winged freak got to the presses.
Which wouldn't take too long to happen as Draco scanned the pack of volunteers and the few reporters there to get the heartwarming story of a community pulling together to move forward after the evil atrocities of the Dark Lord and his followers. Draco snorted, and then shook his head as he saw another glare aimed his way. Old and young, most of them knew exactly who he was. Amidst this crowd, he walked alone.
They were greeted at the school gates by none other than Granger, hair pulled back into a long braid with a clip board in hand. Though she wasn't dressed in school robes, she still had that prim look of a Prefect.
"Thank you everyone for coming to aid in the rebuilding of the most prestigious wizarding institution in Great Britain. Every one of you is invaluable…"
Blah blah blah, Draco thought to himself. He ignored her and stared over at the castle. The south wall was pretty bad, and he already knew the area around the Room of Requirement to be practically devastated. A huge chunk missing from Ravenclaw Tower brought back memories of the giants throwing trees and boulders at each other. And of course the dungeons were impassable. There was so much to do, and Draco would admit that much of it was his fault. But only to himself, and only on those days when he couldn't face a mirror.
"Isn't that Draco Malfoy? Wasn't he a Death Eater?"
"I thought so. So was his father. Why is he here?"
"Shouldn't he be in Azkaban?"
He turned an icy glare on two women, both dressed in Muggle jeans. Their whispers grew louder and louder until the entire crowd was listening to them instead of Granger. A large doughnut of empty space had widened around him.
"Is there something wrong over there?" Granger called out.
"Yeah!" the woman on the left said, middle aged with of a line of ducklings printed on her shirt. "Why is a Death Eater here?"
Her companion nodded. "He could be here to kill us all."
"I don't want to be working with him."
Granger lifted her wand and a shrill whistle louder than the Hogwarts Express shocked the dissidents from their pre-mob frenzy. As one unit, they turned to look at her.
"Draco Malfoy has gone to excessive lengths to pay back society for the crimes of his father." He was intrigued, and thankful, that she didn't mention the cabinet. "As many of you might be aware, he willingly sold off much of his ancestral family holdings to help cover war victims medical costs and to pay for any damages his family's participation with Voldemort's—" half the crowd shivered, "—attempted coup might have incurred. He has helped many people. Do not hold a father's actions attributable to his son. Now, I would like to split everyone up based on…"
Draco followed Granger's orders and went with a quiet crew out to the greenhouses. The women were shuffled off to work in the dungeons. He passed her with a lift to his chin and she offered a simple nod.
~~~
People were teeming all over the school and Harry's only sanctuary had been whittled down to the north side of the castle. Hiding in the north side had many downsides. The kitchen was to the west, and though not damaged, the main corridor to reach it was heavily trafficked. He had to avoid a small section near the Hospital Wing in the mornings due to the planning meetings held in those classrooms.
And perhaps the most important, Severus apparently did not come to the north side of the castle.
After that moment on the edge of the lake, after Harry's own embarrassing pronouncement, after the taste of Severus had implanted itself into his tongue, he found he could not get Severus out of his mind. The man lived in his dreams and waking moments. Harry spotted him in dark corners and in the faces of paintings. Sometimes he swore he could smell him, that earthy scent that tugged at long dormant parts of his brain. And every time he thought he glimpsed the man, his wings would begin to tingle along the membrane and across the bony outer ridge, but nothing would happen, and the truth of that let him know it wasn't Severus. He wasn't hiding in the shadows or somehow slipping through the castle via portraits.
He remembered those words. "I'm here, Harry. I'm here." He remembered the meshing of their lips. Had something changed?
The part of his mind that controlled his body during his mental trip to La La Land, a real and solid part of him now, had curled up and was withering. He couldn't describe it exactly, but his creature mind wanted Severus. To touch him, be near him.
No, that wasn't right. He didn't want Severus.
Severus was vital. Like air, like food. He needed the man for the pure joy of existence.
Standing outside on a small stone balcony drenched in shadow, Harry leaned against the wall, pressing the back of his head against the cool stone. He'd been trying to find ways to deflect that ache. With Hermione and Ron organizing the volunteers, he couldn't even use them as distraction. It had only been two days, but two days that were drawn out thin with loss.
Memories of the lake returned like spring flowers. Severus. His embrace. The afternoon light seeping through his wings. Flying through the water. Pondering Lightening Charms or jumping from a height to take to the air.
Well, he thought, I can try that again. At least it will take my mind off him.
He stripped off his shirt, tossing it to the floor and shivered as a crop of goose bumps sprang up over his skin. Gripping his wand, he climbed up onto the edge of the balcony, a great rounded stone railing that fenced in the small area. Then with a twirl and chop of his wand cast a Lightening Charm.
He was ready.
Or at least he thought he was. Steeling himself with a breath, he looked out over the northern hills.
One flap, two. Harry flared out his wings, a span of almost twelve feet, and stepped off of the balcony.
Immediately, the air beat against the thin leather, pressing into it, forcing him to stretch his wings to his maximum reach until the tension kept them firm against the bracing airstream. With alarm he noticed the ground coming up at an unexpected rate, and at the edge of terror, he began beating his wings.
Flailing his arms, his body tensed to maintain his wing motion, Harry screamed as the earth raced to great him. He'd had worse falls from a broom, but something about falling from his own actions, of his wings failing him, brought him closer and closer to panic.
Then, with a twist of his wing angle, a gush of air filled the membranes and like a kite, he began to glide slowly downward, the ground now flowing under him until, with a stumble and terribly ungraceful fall to his knees, he hit the ground.
He made it. He'd flown and lived and Harry rolled over onto his back, wings spread along the grass over his head, and laughed out loud.
"Oh my gods, did you see that?"
Harry stopped laughing, and sat up to see a gathering of people by the greenhouses. He glanced back over to the balcony. Had he flown that far?
"Is it a beast?"
"It looks like a man. A man with wings?"
"Must be something Dark. You-Know-Who used Dark creatures to invade Hogwarts, you know. It could have been hiding!"
The cries and screaming grew muddled, one twisted accusation after another building upon each other until the crowd churned itself into a mob and rushed towards Harry, wands and tools business ready.
"What?" he cried out. "Wait! I'm not a Dark creature!"
The mob didn't seem to care.
Wearing floral blouses and work robes covered in patches, men and women, some older and others on the young side of twenty, people his own age, charged towards him, faces twisted by violence and hate. He jumped to his feet, wincing from his scraped knees and began running for the castle.
He pulled his wings in, keeping them close to his body and despaired when he realized the pack was closer to the castle than he was and would easily cut him off. He lifted his wand, preparing to cast his Patronus, but a stone zipped through the air and cracked his wrist, disrupting his spell.
"Stop it!" he screamed, stepping away from the tidal wave of men and women. A small piece of lumber struck his chest, then a hammer sailed inches over his head.
Holy fuck, he was a dead man. He tried to cast again, but his wrist flared in pain, mucking up another spell. Still within the Apparition wards, he couldn't escape that way. He turned towards the people, lifting his hands up high in surrender. A Stinging Hex sizzled at his feet, driving him to the ground.
"Stop! I'm a wizard, like you!" Disbelief transformed into terror at the cruel faces looking down at him.
"Monster!"
"Foul creature."
"Chase it away. Kill it!"
Harry threw an arm over his face, waiting for the next blow, scrambling away as best as he could.
Then a loud bang crashed through the sky and the crowd began screaming, words beyond ken as their anger morphed into fear.
Over the frantic din a voice rang out, enhanced by a Sonorus Spell and Harry looked up to see his unlikely savior.
"You will stop this imbecilic, mindless behavior this instant."
Draco Malfoy stood towards the rear of the crowd, a silver robe of fine material fluttered around his heels. His chest was heaving and unadulterated fury shimmered off of him in waves. His brother. Harry's brother had come.
"Stand back," he said again. His voice was stiff with false calm. "Touch this man and I swear the Cruciatus will seem like a tickle compared to what I shall do to you."
The mass of people milled around, shuffling around, making a wide berth away from Draco. Many looked dazed, seemingly shocked to discover that they weren't by the greenhouses but out here in the northern field. Others still snarled at Harry, feral ferocity turning their faces into something of a mad animal's.
"But, it's not human," one wizard said, pointing his wand at Harry. His jowls rocked as he shook his head in disgust.
"Of course it isn't, you fool." Harry could just hear the eye roll. A chuckle bubbled in his chest, tinged with the madness of relief.
"What is it?" another woman asked, more curious than violent. Her large sun hat had slipped from her head and dangled around her neck from a string. A sick urge to strangle her with it sprouted in Harry's head.
Draco came forward to stand next to him. Harry looked up and Draco seemed a giant from his angle on the ground. The two men looked at each other. All the fear, the loneliness and worry, were gone now. Draco, his enemy, his brother, was there, and would save him.
He turned away from Harry and proudly said to the crowd. "Obviously, he's my pet."
At that, Harry busted his seams laughing.
Realization of what had almost happened sobered up the crowd and they quickly filed away. Harry's giggles kept him off balance. It was too preposterous. His wrist had to be broken, his knees ached, the adrenaline of near death surged through his veins, and yet Harry was most relieved at the simple fact that Draco Malfoy was near him. The only thing that could have made this even better would be Severus, but Harry tried not to dwell on that.
"Are you quite finished?"
With a swipe at his eye, Harry shook his head. "No. I don't think so."
Draco gave up and sat down in the grass next to him.
With a swallow and hiccup, he turned to Draco, still grinning like a fool, and held up his arm. "Arm's busted."
Draco glanced at it and nodded. "Looks like it."
"Your pet?"
Draco shrugged. "Well, you'll need some training up, but you might do."
Harry's laughter could be heard by all the would-be murderers and a formidable silence inhabited the crowd.
~~~
Weasley and Granger sat directly across from Draco and Potter, a table of food between them. "You saved Harry?" Weasley asked as he grabbed for a roll. His face had gone so pale his freckles stood out like flecks of pepper on a mound of mashed potatoes.
Everyone was watching Draco, and he preened a moment like a great, egocentric peacock. "Of course, I couldn't let a mad mob of commoners get away with doing injury to a Malfoy." He grabbed a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet and juicy, perfect fruit for the time of year.
"Then you admit it?" Granger interrupted. "Harry is your brother."
With a pained sigh, Draco nodded. "It is apparent that he is indeed my brother." He glared at Potter. "A little brother, mind you. Don't be getting uppity."
He expected some back talk, a 'stuff it Malfoy' or something, but Potter only smirked with amused nonchalance and a little bit of adoration. Obviously blind adoration, but it was adoration nonetheless, and a little off-putting.
"Really, Potter," Draco forged on. "It's nothing but pitiful to be taken down by a small gathering of such cattle armed with sticks and stones."
A mad grin burst upon his face and Potter said, "But they did break my bones." He held up his healed arm and Draco just shook his head. The craziest things seemed to come out of his mouth.
"Why didn't you use your charm? You are a veela after all." Though Draco had to admit, he never felt any of the affects of Veela Charm coming from Potter, nor did anyone other than Severus seem to be affected by the changes in his brother.
Potter's eyebrows bunched and a tiny frown pulled down the left corner of his mouth. "I don’t know. I don't think I have any charm like that. It's like the veela part and the other part from mom have cancelled each other out or something." He stared down into his cup; tiny flakes of tea leaves floated on the surface.
After Granger had documented the incident, gotten names and descriptions of the perpetrators from Draco, Potter had insisted that he join them on a kitchen raid.
"Harry, we can't let these people get away with this. They must be reprimanded now," Granger had insisted. But Potter had argued he just needed a break, a little time before he had to deal with reprimands and picking out people from a line-up. The idea of a kitchen raid had surfaced fond memories for Draco of he and Blaise commanding the house-elves into cooking fillet mignon and duck a l'orange at 2 a.m. during end of term exams. Brain food, they'd called it, and it was the house-elves duty to provide the proper nutrients for them to pass their tests.
Now he was here with the Gryffindor Trio and it wasn't as awkward as past history would have dictated.
"Malfoy." Weasley drew his attention from mulling over then and now, his features serious, and Draco wanted to inform the redhead that the look seemed a tad silly on him. "Really, thanks."
The air grew too heavy to breathe. Draco looked away. "It was nothing." Then, a half shrug and eye roll allowed him to inhale again. Briefly, he wondered what it would have been like with these three as friends. Then chuckled to himself. There was no chance that such a thing have happened, the breeding grounds had been all wrong for such a thing.
"By the way," Draco said, looking over at Potter. He still couldn't believe the change that had taken over the once gawky teen. He was downright handsome now, though not as good looking as Draco was. "I saw Severus outside the Hospital Wing when were you guzzling down Skele-Go." He didn't include that as soon as Draco had told Severus what had happened, and that Harry wasn't on death's door, the Professor had charged off down the hall. Draco wondered how many of the volunteers would be left tomorrow after Severus and Granger had their ways with them.
Potter perked up like a puppy. "Really? He's still here?"
"Yes. He's been around the entire time. Anyway, I have a message to give you."
"What? Why didn't you say something! What did he have to say?" Potter had leapt from his stool and had grabbed onto Draco's arm, clutching it as if breaking Draco's arm would speed up his response. "Well?"
Potter's wings shivered and Draco leaned back to take a good look at the man, carefully pulling his arm away. The force of Potter's focus on Draco and the knowledge he held threw him off like a curving Bludger. Fire danced behind his eyes, flashed around the black of his iris. And Draco recognized the same blaze in Severus' own eyes just a few hours earlier.
"He said that he would see you on Thursday."
"Thursday? Why? Why not until Thursday?" Harry looked to Granger, his utter faith in her ability to solve his every problem a crutch Draco would have to disarm him of someday.
"Harry." It was Weasley who spoke up, grinning. "It's your birthday, you idiot. The big eighteen."
Draco's brows rose at the news and Harry let go of his pent up fervor, seeming smaller at its release. "Oh." At first he seemed disappointed, but a ripple of thoughts and emotions chased over Potter until he settled on confidence. It looked good on him. "I can wait for three more days."
~~~
As Severus made his way through the volunteers, each one of them eyeing him with alarm, he made a splendid show of brandishing his wand. He'd had words with these people. Oh, he'd had more than words with a few and Pomfrey had given him quite the lecture on cursing the much-needed workers on the reconstruction project.
Until she'd heard what they'd done.
He found a certain amount of pride in the fact that none of them were dead. Perhaps this new world of peace and prosperity had a place for him after all.
After he'd gathered the suspects of villainy and impressed upon them the knowledge that they'd just attempted to murder none other than Harry Potter, he worked their own guilt into a frenzy. Following that, a few of the volunteers who did not partake in the violent gang had felt Severus had gone easy on the mob. One crone could cast a Marph Murlap Hex that put Weasley's Bat Bogey Hex to shame.
They'd tried to hurt Harry. His Harry.
It was more than any man with blood in his veins could take, and as he had been recently reminded, he had such blood. It burned with the passion of fury as easily as that of desire.
Now those who had been accomplice to breaking Harry's arm and threatening him with an early grave were all gone. The Ministry hadn't taken lightly to Harry Potter being attacked in such a manner and Severus had faith that Kingsley would push for strict punishments. Unfortunately, Harry could no longer hide here and Severus was impressed that McGonagall had kept the press at bay with such skill.
With a flick of his head, he cleared his rampaging thoughts. He barked at a young man loitering over the schematic of Greenhouse Two.
"Stop your dawdling and help prepare the ground for that foundation," Severus said. The man swallowed, nodded, and scurried off. The rest all found something with which to be busy.
There were only two things that had kept him from cursing those banished fools to within an inch of their life. The threat of Azkaban and what Harry might think of him. He wanted to be someone Harry would be proud to stand by.
Two more days. He kept thinking back to that kiss… well, those kisses. But the difference between the one when Harry had been a mental regressive to when he was an adult was night and day. Severus swore to himself he would wait until Harry turned eighteen. Only two more days.
He pulled aside the old crone with a knack for hexes. She squinted at him, one browned tooth lifting her lip in a sneer. "Excuse me, madam. I have a party to plan, perhaps you can help me."
~~~
Today was his birthday. Severus said they would meet again today. As Harry pulled on his charmed shirt, whispering the phrase to seal up the seam, he thought about last night. He'd stayed up until the moon was fat and high in the sky, talking with his friends and his brother. He was so thankful he had them, even Draco's snarky bark, but at least he didn't really bite. Well, not much. Harry refused to let any of his more bitter remarks affect him, it was just Draco's way.
Pomfrey had told him that there was going to be a special gathering in the Great Hall today. She wouldn't say anything more, but the Healer seemed giddy, like she enjoyed holding a secret of joy for once instead of the heftier responsibility of everyone's health.
Ron had snuck food up to their room, and Hermione had charmed a Muggle radio to play old Beatles tunes and some other band called Credence Clearwater and Revival that he'd never heard of before. At the top of their lungs they sang the lyrics to 'Who'll Stop the Rain' and Draco had formed a certain attachment to "It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog. It's been a hard day's night; I should be sleeping like a log." It was after they all flopped down on Harry and Ron's beds, panting and laughing, that he'd told them his plan.
"I can't stay around here anymore," he'd told them. Ron had yelled and cajoled, promised Harry things he could never offer. Hermione had just looked sad.
"Everyone will get used to you, Harry. You don't have to leave," Ron said.
But Hermione had nodded, and asked, "Where will you go?"
Harry didn't know. The press knew about him, and the world would know soon enough. People looked on him with fear and hatred. There was probably nowhere like it, but he dreamed of a place where he could fit in, where nobody stared and nobody knew who he was. He was so tired of being different.
But wherever he went, he hoped Severus would go with him.
"Good luck hiding with those wings, Harry. You can't really blend in with those." Even Draco didn't think his leaving was a good idea.
"I just need a break. It won't be forever. I'm just tired. I just want to rest for a while. I'm tired of feeling so lost. I'll come back, though. Before you even know it, I'll probably be back." He hoped they took strength in his assurances, and it wasn't like he wouldn't be able to talk to them. They could owl or Floo every month.
Now he stood outside the Great Hall and a low murmur from beyond the door could be heard.
"I'm not sure I want to go in there." Harry ran his fingers through his soft hair, now so easy to tame. His shoulders slumped as his worried gaze scoured the ceiling, seeking answers in the cracks between the stonework. Then his lips moved, though barely any noise came out. Ron had to lean close to catch the faint words. "People tried to kill me because I'm a freak. I don’t want to be this freak."
"Harry." Leaning away, Ron studied his friend. Harry's eyes lowered, slowly, crawling across the ceiling, down the far wall and finally shifting to rest on Ron's face. "You are not a freak."
"Of course you're not, Harry. You are a Malfoy. Find some dignity."
Ron glanced over at Draco and as expected rolled his eyes. But he smiled too, and then returned his gaze to Harry. "Yes, Harry. Be proud of who you are. Two magical bloodlines! That's pretty damned special."
Harry smiled with an amused shake to his head. Ron, once he came to terms with everything, always stood by him.
Harry's wings shifted, the scaled leather glimmering sea foam green in the dim light of the hallway. He dropped his eyes again, this time to the floor, examining the same cracks once more. Maybe if he traced them from floor to ceiling, each and every one, he'd find answers the mountain of questions that had piled up in his head.
"Harry." The exasperated drawl of Draco saying his name pulled Harry out of his muddled thoughts. "Pull out of it." He squared his shoulders. "They aren't going to tackle you in there. I've had it on good authority that between Severus, Pomfrey and Granger, those mad idiots have been shipped off. Anyway, you've got me." He said this like it was some proclamation and that it should alleviate every insecurity marching in Harry's gut. "And, though I don’t see how this could ever be anything desirable, you've got the Weasel here by your side, too."
For a brief moment the two young men wrestled in a glaring match.
Harry burst out laughing.
Ron and Draco turned away from each other, a mutual disarmament, and each in their own way shared Harry's joy. His laughter shook his entire frame and he couldn't control it even if he wanted to. It was reflexive, like his purring wings. He inhaled shakily, and wiped at his watery eyes.
"Ready?" Ron asked when Harry finally caught his breath.
He could do this. Nobody was going to attack him and his instinct told him that Severus would be in there. Clad in a face splitting grin, Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready."
With Ron on his left side and Draco on his right, Harry marched towards the small gathering of people assembled in the Great Hall to commemorate his birthday. The first ever he hadn't spent alone.
He tried to keep his wings from fluttering, but he still couldn't completely control their minute movements. They would twitch any time he was excited or nervous. Any time Severus was near. By now their leathery flapping sound had become a familiar companion and it lent him an amount of strength.
His entourage pressed against the great doors and they swung open on silent hinges, well oiled from Filch's tender ministrations throughout the decades. Like a herald, Draco cleared his throat and Harry nearly tackled him to the ground, but he'd began his declaration before Harry truly registered what Draco was doing.
"Ladies and Gentlemen." The crowd grew quiet and Harry grew small. Most of the faces he knew, though some were total strangers. He relaxed when he remembered none of them from his most recent nightmares. He turned a glare at the side of Draco's head, but his brother stood regally, ignoring the heat of his glower. "I am proud to present to you this evening, my little brother, the youngest Malfoy heir. Mr. Harry Potter sin Malfoy." Draco turned to face him, his smirk converting into a grin. "Happy Birthday, Harry."
Everybody looked at Harry, stared at him, and then Hermione, standing closest to the door began clapping, then McGonagall joined in, then George and Charlie and Pomfrey and more and more of the crowd put their hands together for Harry. Luna slipped her fingers in her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.
His eyes scanned the crowd and saw many faces of friends, people he trusted and some he loved. Then his gaze landed on a set of deepest black eyes, hooded by furrowed brows and his breath was practically stolen from his lungs. It was so overwhelming to be the focus of that much intensity.
Then Severus smiled, a small twist to his lips, and with a rush Harry's breath returned and suddenly, but not for the first time, he felt like he belonged.
"Harry—" he was pulled away from that private place he and Severus had both been lost in, "—beautiful wings."
"Thanks Charlie." He lifted a wing to examine it. "Do you think I'm part dragon? They're still not sure."
Charlie shook his head. "No idea, Harry. But—" he held out his hand, "May I touch them?" Harry nodded and shivered as Charlie ran his fingertips over the thin leather of his wing membranes. It secretly unnerved him to have someone else touch him there. It was too personal. "Feel more slippery than a dragon's, so maybe not. I'm sure they'll figure it out." He pulled his hand away and nodded at Harry as he stepped away, making room for the next well-wisher.
After many 'Good Luck's and jolly 'Happy Birthday's, Harry needed some space. He'd still hadn't had a chance to talk with Severus and too many people he wasn't that close with had touched him. He needed to feel the breeze against his skin. With his intentions directed towards the doors, his escape was halted by the call of his name.
"Harry." Harry glanced over his shoulder, and saw Hermione hold out a glass and a small pile of papers bound by a rubber band. "I think you might need these."
He glanced at the top paper. It was a glossy pamphlet featuring a lush retreat in the Amazon. "Private," it stated in big, bold letters across the bottom.
"I did some research for you and found a few places you might like to go to." A little dimple popped out in her left check as she smiled at him.
Overwhelmed, Harry leaned forward and hugged her. "Oh, Hermione." He couldn't express his gratitude.
He squeezed her tight, and then let her go. For a moment, she studied his face. "You are still you, Harry. Don't forget that. And remember, we will always be your friends. No matter what." A silver shimmer gathered in her eye and she quickly blinked it away. "You know, I'm going to miss you."
Harry nodded, his own voice caught up somewhere in his chest. Then, "I'll miss you too, Hermione."
He pulled away and made for the door again, needing some time. He didn't want to leave everyone, and at that instant, for stupid reasons, he felt incredibly alone. He had all these people. The loyalty and love of Hermione and Ron, and now his newly discovered brother. At the thought of leaving it all behind, an empty hole had opened in his heart.
It was dusk as he made his way beyond the gates of the main entrance. The great winged boars stood sentry. He'd always thought winged boars very odd things, now he was odd just like them.
Harry watched as an eagle soared above the green fields lining each side of the road. Caught in an updraft it sailed higher and higher until it was only a speck, smaller than a bee eater. He lifted his hand and held it before the speck of a bird, reaching out like he could touch it, touch the sky.
Maybe an eagle in the sky was like a shooting star. Maybe if he could catch it with his fingers he could make a wish.
"Harry."
He looked to his left and saw Severus standing a few feet away. The man was practically buzzing, he was strung so tight. Harry smiled. Maybe he didn't need to catch the shooting star.
Folding his arms across his chest, Severus glared at him.
"What?" Harry asked defensively. His wings shivered, fluttered like they always did whenever Severus' intensity branded him. Harry felt owned.
"I've been looking for you," Severus said.
"Yeah?" Harry asked, then he too frowned, annoyed that he sounded so eager. Being this close to Severus was almost torture, when all Harry wanted to do was throw himself into those arms, capture those lips in his own. Every cell in his body, the siren command of his blood told him that was where he should be, that was exactly what he should do.
Severus cleared his throat. "Are you enjoying your party?"
"Yes, thanks. Though, where have you been?"
Severus' eyes flicked away, then returned. "I thought I would give you some space."
High overhead, the eagle cried. Harry wondered what it was that was crawling around the man's brain, because he didn't seem pleased. Finally, Severus said, "I don't like this."
Harry flinched, staring into his eyes.
"I don’t like not having you in my arms."
Oh. Two strides and Harry was in Severus arms. His face swimming in the older man's scent, protective arms wrapped around him. Harry flapped his wings and a flurry of fallen leaves at their feet once again caught the sky in their wake.
Then he looked up. That dark gaze met his own; something in it flared. "I'm leaving," he told Severus.
"I heard," Severus said.
Another flap and the breeze toyed with the leaves again. For unknown reasons Harry's body was bunched tight, like he was ready to burst from the starting blocks for a quarter mile sprint. Then, he asked it. "You'll go with me, then?"
Severus nodded, then licked his lips. "I'll go with you."
He took a breath, and let it out. No other words could sound so good. He rested his head against Severus' heart and felt the thrum of the racing organ. Beyond, in the distance, he could see the lake. Tiny stars glittered along the surface of the water, bright and alive in the light of the setting sun. "I'm glad." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Harry… I—"
As the sun dipped beyond the edge of the earth and the little stars blinked out, one by one, Harry shifted his head, chin propped on Severus' chest. "I know, Severus. I do, too."
The End