Save Me, I'm Lost, Part One - 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.
Harry's body chilled through at what he'd just been told. Truly, it could exit only in the realm of the impossible, something beyond even the cruel nature of the universe. It had to be a lie.
"Well."
His gaze was trapped on the center of Snape's chest, the fourth button from the top a bulls eye focus; the synapses in his brain had ceased firing.
"Potter. Do you understand?"
Did he understand? Did he understand the words, or the entire bloody concept? Words were simple things, sounds strung together. But the concept…
"You are Lucius' son. Not the son of James Potter. Your mother was—"
"Stop!" Harry shook his head wildly and drew away from Snape's aura of annoyance, his pity. "Don't… don't say it." His voice had become weak, a wispy thing.
His mother was raped.
"Potter, I know—"
He wasn't a Potter.
"Please," he said, the word drawn out with every ounce of pleading and pain suffocating his world. "Just stop… Just… stop, please." The strength leaked from his legs and he slumped against the edge of a desk.
Snape stood over Harry, the very harbinger of evil news. As the chilly tingle in Harry's limbs faded to numbness, Snape's arm twitched, but then the man checked himself. Snape had strafed him with the news in an unused classroom, enclosed within walls of large stone blocks covered by draping tapestries depicting serene forest scenes and victorious battles. The room was freezing.
Lucius had raped his mother. He was Lucius' son. A Malfoy.
A shiver of self-disgust ran its skeletal touch up his spine.
Like one of the castle's statues, Snape remained unmoving. His long robes rested against the flagstones, his hands hidden in his wide-mouthed sleeves. Harry didn't want to look at him. Couldn't look at him.
The first thing the man had done after his release from the Hospital Wing was to confront Harry about his true heritage. What a bloody sadist.
Bastard.
Too bad Nagini hadn't ripped open his scrawny neck; then the news would never have gotten out. Nobody would have known. Ever. The truth could have been buried along with the corpses of the two men who had known: Dumbledore and Snape.
Now Harry knew, and he wished he could simply Obliviate himself and go on living a contented life. He'd done his big deed. He'd defeated Voldemort. Everything from that moment forward was supposed to be a new life. Finally, he was going to lead a life that he'd chosen.
Instead, he found out he was Draco fucking Malfoy's half brother.
He buried his face in his hands and prayed not to think.
~~~
Stifling his third urge to check the time, Severus continued to stare down at the young man's head. That unruly hair, strong chin and nose. All Potter traits. The eyes, the cheeks… those were Lily's.
Severus puffed a sigh through his nose. He was positive that a half an hour had passed since he'd first dragged the boy into the classroom, informing him of his true heritage. All Potter did was gape about like a landed fish.
He was sorely tempted to simply cast the counter for Dumbledore's curse and be done with it. That meddling fool had told Severus he'd done it because of Lily's desperate pleas. A low growl rumbled within Severus' chest at the idea of Lucius with his filthy claws on Lily. He swallowed against the dry acreage of his throat. Potter remained unresponsive, a dribbling fool. Maybe he should yell at the youngest Malfoy, taunt him over his new found genetics—but to be honest, Severus had little energy for such vitriol while his body still struggled against the effects of Nagini's poison.
Damn it. Harry Potter was Lily Evens and Lucius Malfoy's child.
Last year Dumbledore had taken Severus aside and dumped the unexpected, and certainly unwanted, knowledge upon his shoulders. He should have realized then that Dumbledore knew he wasn't going to live out the year. Unfortunately, other things had been demanding his attention at the time.
The doddering meddler had cursed the unborn offspring within Lily's belly with the Tegal Texi Charm. It was a spell Severus had heard of but had never seen in action. It tricked the genetic code of an embryo into thinking it had alternate parentage. A year ago—was it only a year?—Dumbledore had convinced Severus that the spell couldn't be left in place, that it would hamper his little hero's adulthood in unspeakable ways if it wasn't cancelled.
With a sigh, he continued to stare down at the bent head. Potter hadn't so much as breathed heavy in the last fifteen minutes.
Poppy Pomfrey had also been told of the curse and its counter. Unfortunately, the Healer wasn’t aware of what poor, unsuspecting fool it had been cast upon. To Severus' relief, Pomfrey would be prepared for the changes Potter would soon be going through; he had only to deliver the potion, cast the spell and wash his hands of the mess.
The potion, a small vial of blue syrup, rested in his pocket.
He fingered the vial, bounced it against the tips of his ochre-stained fingers.
He stopped fiddling with it and took in another breath.
Hunched against the edge of the classroom desk, the brat still hadn't moved.
Severus wondered what changes would arise in the boy. Would it be instantaneous, or would it take time, months for fair Malfoy features to surface? He tried to imagine Potter as a blond. It wasn't a pretty picture. Maybe he would be a redhead like Lily. But that thought pranced the atrocious Weasley color through his head. Would he grow taller, lose some of his athletic build? Would his eyes fade from their sharp green?
He also wondered, as he stared down at his defeated student, if Lucius' veela nature would insinuate its unwieldy desires into the mostly asexual teenager. It had skipped Draco—for that Severus was extremely relieved; the boy was a handful enough—even though the traits were fairly dominant in Lucius himself.
Severus allowed a momentary sense of remorse for Potter. Not only was he not a Potter, but soon his entire endocrine system would betray him by flooding his body with new hormones.
It would be easier to just leave him as he was. Easier for Potter, easier for Severus. But Dumbledore had made him promise.
Damn!
How was it, even after fulfilling his damned duty to Dumbledore and all those ungrateful wastes of skin, that these situations were still thrust upon him? Well, this was the last time. The. Last. Time. He would cast the counter curse, poor the thick goo down the boy's gullet and be off. Let his friends deal with him and his screwed up life. It wasn't Severus' problem.
"Potter," he barked. He gripped the vial and lifted his wand. "I grow tired of waiting for you to come to terms with Daddy," he said with a sneer. "Drink this." He thrust out the potion on his open palm.
Potter looked up at the swirling blue, mesmerized.
Severus ground his teeth. "Fine." The word was sharp.
He plucked the cork from the vial and pressed it towards Potter, ready to curse him stiff if the need arose.
"What is that?" Potter finally asked. He looked up, his face pale with a thin sheen coating his upper lip. Every breath he took was a quick sip of air. Severus observed that if Potter kept on this track he'd soon hyperventilate.
"The potion you must to ingest to remove the curse that has been put upon you."
Potter's eyes squinted. "What curse?"
"Have you not wondered why you look like James Potter when you are not, in fact, his child? A curse that stifles your true genetic parentage was cast on you before you were born," Severus said. There was so much more he could say: a plethora of details with little worth. None of them would help Potter, only confuse him. Anyway, he didn't need any help with this decision. There was no decision. He would take the potion and Severus would cast the spell and it would be done.
Potter swallowed, his eyes constantly tracking every movement Severus made, a shift of his weight, the lifting of his hand as he offered the potion, the dipping of his Adam's apple when he cleared his throat. They looked everywhere but into Severus' own hard gaze. "This curse made me a Potter?"
"This curse camouflaged your genetics to have your body think it was a Potter. It is detrimental to your further psychological and physical development and should be removed now that no other pressing business is at hand."
Potter chuckled, a dry, self-depreciating laugh that flittered through the air, unbalanced and odd. "No pressing business at hand. 'Good job Potter, you killed Voldemort, now we're going to really screw your life up.' Thanks, but no thanks."
"There isn't an option here, Potter. You will take the potion. Dumbledore insisted upon it."
"Who cares? I don't. I don't give a damn what Dumbledore insisted on. This is my life! Nobody else has any right to fuck with it anymore!" Potter had sprung to his feet, his hands fisted at his sides and those green eyes, just like Lily's, bore into Severus' with all the anger and frustration of a teenager who still had no control over his own destiny.
"Potter. You will start having physical difficulties. Your growth will modulate out of control. You might have emotional inconsistencies. Most likely, you will not be able to have children. At some point the curse will begin to weaken and fail, and the older you are when this happens, the more crippling the effects will be on you. Either way, then or now, the curse will break and you will become a Malfoy."
The two men stood facing each other. One much taller, his lanky hair a veil around his face, the other a bundle of tense nerves just aching to lash out at something.
"It would be easier to do this now." Severus held out the vial again. Potter flinched away, as if Severus held a small, spitting viper.
"Would it be better if we went to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey administered the cure?"
"She knows, too?" The knowledge seemed to embarrass Potter.
"She also knows the counter curse, yes. But not that you are the individual under the influences of the Tegal Texi Charm."
With his eyes huge and lower lip beginning to tremble treacherously, Potter slowly nodded, his gaze locked onto the vial gripped between Severus' fingers. Severus slid the cork back into the vial and turned to open the door.
"After you," he said, and Potter walked out into the hall.
~~~
The potion had tasted like blueberries and Harry wondered why it wasn't as nasty as all the past potions Snape had made him drink.
Pomfrey had assured him the potion would do exactly as Snape had promised. Through her professional veneer, Harry could see that she juggled between concern for him and anger at Snape. Really, as hard as it was for Harry to admit, it wasn't Snape's fault.
Secretly, he wondered if the odd things he'd beem feeling were because of the curse. He felt down all the time, and really, he had no interest in sex, and wasn't that abnormal for an almost 18-year old? Lately, he felt clumsy and just two days ago he'd tripped up the stairs. Up the stairs. Luckily, it was just him and Hermione, nobody else had seen. He'd known Ron would have been reduced to tears, laughing so hard.
Now his two best friends were sitting in chairs next to his bed. He'd protested the bed, but Pomfrey had insisted, and honestly, he didn’t care to argue anymore. He wondered if this was what despondency felt like.
At least with Voldemort he'd had a foe. Now he had nothing to fight against, only himself. His own genetic code.
Hermione was holding onto his hand, her palm clammy in his own, and Ron had his typical worried look that bunched his eyebrows up into fat caterpillars. At first they had argued it was a trick when he'd divulged Snape's news. Hermione had been ready to charge off to the library and Ron had furled his fingers into fists to fight by Harry's side. But Pomfrey had supported the git's story—and well, there wasn't much to argue anymore.
As they waited for the potion's affects, the only three in the large medical room within a mostly deserted castle, the shadows grew long, sliding across the tiled floor, the white-washed walls, until they crawled under Harry's bed and up into Ron and Hermione's laps. With a sigh, Harry exchanged hard looks with his friends. The air was thick when they finally rose to leave.
~~~
The dungeons were no longer passable and Severus looked upon the rubble blocking the entrance to his precious rooms with regret.
His skin crawled around his neck, like a living thing, and he resisted the urge to claw at it, peel the flesh away layer by layer until he no longer felt invaded by an alien presence.
The dust had long settled; it had been weeks since the final battle, and the reconstruction was already under way. Only a few inhabitants walked the hallways of the castle; most of the construction mages were housed in makeshift lodges in the grounds surrounding the destruction.
He considered his rare potions, stores of ingredients, precious books he knew he would be forever replacing. His thoughts rested on his half empty vial of phoenix tears and knew that they had already been soaked up by the thirsty floor, dribbling down into the tiny, porous capillaries within the stone.
His hand rose to trace the aching scar along his neck, and then he thrust it down to his side once again, letting the fingers twitch in camaraderie to the muscles around his throat. He regretted the loss of those tears.
With a swish of his robes, he swiveled around and returned to the staircase, taking the steps slowly as he mused over his future. He'd sacrificed everything he'd wagered on long ago… Not because he lost, but because he hadn't expected to win. Oh, surely the side of Light would win. Dumbledore and Harry Potter would win. He had no doubt. But he, Severus, wasn't supposed to survive. The bite from Nagini had been shocking—to be honest, he'd calculated his own assassination to happen later in the game—but it hadn't been unexpected. He remembered lying there after he'd delivered all those memories to that stupid brat, vomiting up his very soul so the boy could do what he had to do. Then the pain had gone and he'd floated in numbness. Nothing existed and he'd thought it truly was the end.
Then he'd woken up to Pomfrey fussing over him. Damnable woman should have let him die, then he wouldn't be in this predicament. And neither would Potter.
Severus would have felt sorry for him, if he wasn't already feeling sorry for himself.
He stormed through the halls, letting his fury overwhelm the growing self-pity spreading like a fungus through his thoughts. He'd only passed two other people, and they were charging by on their own business. It was a bloody blessing the castle hadn't crumbled around the tempest within.
He passed through the Hospital Wing doors for his morning treatment of anti-venom and cell reconstruction charms, when he pulled up short at the sight four beds down. At a bed aligned along the wall opposite the line of windows, Pomfrey was tending to her only other patient, whose palm was pressed into his forehead. Through the tall windows, the morning's white light washed over the young man and on him it looked like a halo, as if a godly being sat there in the hospital bed.
With a blink, Severus realized that was no creature from heaven, but Potter. Already losing the dark features of the Potter bloodline, his hair had lightened to a honeyed brown, and added length now tempered that maddening fluff. His strong jaw had relinquished the perpetual jut and even at the angle of his head, Severus could see his nose took on a perky upturn, almost giving him a snooty look. And something else about him seemed to glow, seemed to … sparkle.
Severus scowled.
The genetic transformation had undoubtedly triggered Potter's veela heritage.
Severus was ready to turn on his heel and charge out of there when Pomfrey looked over at him. Potter slowly lifted his head, his fingers still pressed into his temple, and trapped Severus with his gaze. Severus stood there, unmoving, totally captured by those eyes, stark green, bright and shining and completely overwhelmed with worry.
Something in Severus' chest twitched.
"Severus," Pomfrey called to him as she walked his direction. "Shall we get you looked at now, young man?" She'd taken to calling him 'young man' since Dumbledore's death; it always made him feel guilty.
As she led him to a secluded examination area, Severus turned his head to glance one more time at Potter. Potter was sitting up, watching Severus until he disappeared behind the privacy screen.
~~~
Stretched out on his back, eyes closed, Harry breathed slowly in and out from his belly like Pomfrey had told him to do. She wasn't sure why his head felt like a sledgehammer banging around inside his skull, but the pain killing potions weren't cutting it.
To his right Ron shifted in his own bed. They'd been assigned a small room in the north end of the castle that had received the least damage from the Death Eater invasion. Hermione had gone to retrieve her family from Australia, but promised to return within the week. Her room, across the hallway from Harry and Ron's, awaited her return.
With a soft snore, Ron rolled over and Harry stared at him through the dim lighting, highlighted only by the moon and stars shining down from the open window. A cool breeze shifted the draperies and carried in the scent of impending rain. His friends had been amazing with the news, supportive, helpful. They didn't freak out… well Ron freaked out a little, and Hermione jumped to research the entire situation, finding her own comfort in something familiar and organized.
Harry still didn't know what to think. The simple thought that he was a child of rape churned his stomach, sent him into cold shivers.
And then… he wasn't James Potter's child.
His whole life… his existence… it was just so fucked up. A small sob bubbled up through his chest; he curled over onto his side, pushing the palm of his hand to his forehead. In the spot right before his temple the sharpest pain picked away.
He felt so lost, confused, and there was nobody to explain why all this had happened to him. He had no father, no mentor, no godfather. His entire collection of role models, gone and ground to dust. Somehow, deep within his soul, he felt that his life should have been better than this.
More pain, aching and deep, stretched through his limbs, up along his legs, across his back and down his arms. Straight through to the center of his bones. Pomfrey had said that there might be some discomfort as that fucking rapist's genetics took hold. However, she didn't say it would feel anything like this.
Quietly, under the building clouds, Harry wept.
~~~
"Now, Severus, quit squirming."
"I am not squirming, Madam," he groused. He was sitting on the examination table impeccably motionless and the Healer had the gall to tell him to stop squirming.
"Not your body, your mind."
He shifted his gaze over to hers. Perhaps, since Dumbledore's death, Pomfrey was the only person on the planet who could read him like that. Lying just under her thick shield of professionalism, he could see the tiny crinkles at the edges of her eyes, the slight bunching of her brows. She was worried about him. Bitter, stodgy, unlikable Severus, and this matronly woman was worried about him.
He grunted and she poked him in the ribs with her wand
"Watch it." He found he could find neither the proper focus nor desire to flay the woman currently rubbing a thick ointment across the still gaping wound across his neck.
"I know you are worried about Harry Potter, Severus." She waved her wand over him and golden sparkles landed over parts of his body. She began diagnosing those areas with another charm.
"Harry Malfoy, you mean." He felt chilled sitting in only his trousers and shirtsleeves. A golden patch settled over his left knee that had ached him since before he'd become Headmaster the previous year.
"Oh come now. He will always be Harry Potter, Potter bloodline or not. He has more ownership to that name than any other Potter had claimed in many generations." She tapped his knee with her wand and warmth washed over it. "Don't you think?"
Severus only knew the one other Potter; that little bastard had certainly laid down a legacy.
He was about to respond as such when the double doors leading to the Hospital Wing burst open. Severus leapt to his feet, wand in hand. Tumbling in, panting like a marathon runner in the last two miles of his race, was Ronald Weasley.
"It's—It's Harry. He's—" Weasley, still dressed in brown and white striped pajamas, was leaning over to catch his breath, his hands braced against his thighs. "There's something wrong."
Weasley was actually squeaking, sounding like a boy much younger and true panic was etched into the lines across his face. Pomfrey promptly grabbed her medical bag, and she and Severus rushed through the doors with the young war hero leading the way.
During their brisk walk, Weasley babbled about Potter crying and screaming, about his complaints of pain in his back and head. "He tried to come see you," he said to Madam Pomfrey, "but he couldn't stand up on his feet."
Severus was first to the room; he rushed through the door, only to have the scene stop him cold.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Coating the bed on the left side of the room, the sheets, duvet and pillow; everything was splattered. It dripped down the walls like spring rain, painted the windows. The metallic scent of it dredged up unwanted visions and memories, and for a moment Severus' vision swam.
Then he heard a whimper, a small noise that could have been dismissed as the sound of the wind or the scuff of a shoe. But he'd heard such noises before in his long history of working under the command of a truly evil man and he turned to peer into the corner of the room.
"Sweet Merlin, Harry!" Weasley's voice screeched at the sight of the blood, strained to the snapping point.
Drenched in pain and blood, hunched over like a beaten crup, was a form. Potter. His hair, that newly mutated light brown with honeyed streaks, was a closer match to the churned earth in a cattle yard during the rain. Pooling around his feet, a growing puddle. Severus marveled that Potter was still alive if all that blood had come from his body. He was gripping his legs, his head pressed between the wall and his right knee, burrowing it away from the morning light streaming in from the window.
And sprouting from his shoulders amid tattered T-shirt and shoulder flesh were two man-sized wings, quivering and fluttering with the erratic motion of a twig caught up in a gale.
"Oh my," Pomfrey gasped, and hurried over to Potter.
At her movement, Potter's head lifted; his eyes reflected the light from the rising sun. Then he screamed, scrambling away from the Healer's outstretched hand, slipping in own life's blood.
From the doorway, Severus examined the young man flailing away from Pomfrey's soft cooing. He brought up his arm to block Weasley's blind rush to his friend's side. Pomfrey kept saying 'Harry, it's just fine now. Harry, everything is fine,' but the words were simply blown air.
"Madam Pomfrey, might I suggest a sedative and a pain reliever." Severus examined Potter's stark eyes, the flashing whites of an animal in panic. "I don't think he recognizes any of us at the moment."
~~~
While Weasley kept to Potter's side like a Siamese twin, Severus and Pomfrey discussed what had happened to Potter. Weasley clung to Potter's hand, entwining their fingers as if his very grip was the sole reason the Chosen One wasn't washing away into the unknown beyond.
"I've never seen anything like it, Severus. His wings, for one. Just ripping from his body like that." This woman who had seen every type of magical malady and disaster shivered. "It is hard to imagine the pain that must have caused him."
Severus had a very firm grasp on the amount of pain a set of wings spontaneously sprouting from one's back just might inflict, but he chose to remain silent.
The Healer shook her head. "And those are not veela wings, Severus." He had noticed that fact. They were sea green and scaled leather. It reminded him of dragon hide. "Are you certain that Lucius was half veela? Perhaps some other creature bloodline can be attributed—" she trailed off, pressing her lips together in frustration.
Weasley looked over his shoulder at them again. At times he looked hopeful, at other times it seemed all faith had been lost. "No. To my knowledge, the Malfoy's have the genetic strains of veela and human and that is it. Though, how far back one takes the search might reveal other—" He grew silent. Something quite preposterous had slithered into his mind.
"Severus? What is it?"
With a shallow nod, he continued, "Perhaps it isn't Malfoy's bloodline we should be researching."
Pomfrey's eyes widened at his implication. "But Evans was a Muggleborn."
"Yes, but she was still a magical person. Perhaps her magic came from something in her ancestry. Muggleborns do not have the ardent dedication to genealogy of wizarding purebloods. Who knows what might be mixed into her bloodline from generations past?"
Pomfrey nodded at this, mulling his new theory over. "Perhaps. I'll have my assistant research her bloodline. As it is, I will need to keep Harry sedated until we can find out something." She clicked her tongue in concern. "Not only about his wings, but this degeneration of his mind. That has me worried most of all."
Severus nodded. Though Potter never had been the brightest star in the sky, he still hadn't been a feral animal.
"And Severus, just to assure we are not missing something, will you speak with Draco Malfoy about what other magical bloodlines the Malfoy's might have. It could be Lily Evans, or it might not be. I want to cover every possibility."
"Of course." With Lucius incarcerated and Narcissa a bitter, old bitch, Draco was the most obvious choice for the inquiry. Unfortunately, he was certain Draco would want to know why and he didn't feel the information of Potter's true lineage would be welcomed with open arms.
Severus looked over to the hospital bed once more, to Weasley earnestly gripping that hand, studying Potter's face, slack with potions and spells, drool bubbling from his opened lips
It was insane, really, and Severus attributed it to the fact that he'd been watching out for and protecting the boy since he was eleven, but seeing Potter in such a state did something to him. It caused its own breed of anxiety.
It made him sad.
~~~
"And why do you need to know, Severus?"
He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew Draco would make this an inflated ordeal and—the war was over, didn't he deserve a moment's peace?
"I've taken up genealogy as a hobby to fill my excessive free time, and I thought I would research one of the most prestigious wizarding families," he said in a monotone, his gaze boring into the of the twitchy Malfoy Jr.
Why did he twitch so much? It grated on Severus' nerves. He'd never called Draco on it before because Lucius had been one step closer to the Dark Lord's inner circle.
"Stop that incessant convulsing," he said. Draco stilled, a look of shock flittering across the man's face. Even his expressions twitched.
"Thank you. Now give me your bloodline records." Draco stared at him, arms akimbo. "Please." Severus added.
The blasted man had the gall to raise his eyebrow at Severus. He'd taught him that trick, the little brat!
"Severus. Sir."
Severus glared at Draco, just daring him…
"Why do you want them?" So much for being a threatening figure.
"Don't ask questions." Then, as an after-thought, "I've a right mind to curse you into giving me what it is I want." He had neither the energy nor the time to sweet-talk Draco into giving him the information.
Draco scoffed. "You would not. You like me!" He announced it like a grand title.
Severus' surprised flinch caused Draco to chuckle. "I do no such thing," he said in affront.
"Alright, then," Draco said and began to pace the receiving room of the small estate he and his mother now lived in. It was the only property in Britain they were allowed to keep. The Manor and their other holdings had been sold off for reparations to war victims. Severus had inwardly laughed at the whole predicament, knowing that as Draco easily agreed to the sale, Lucius was cringing in his cell. Narcissa kept to herself, angry at the world. "So, you need my genealogy. Why would you need it?" Draco cupped one elbow in a palm and then pressed his chin into the other, tapping his cheek with his forefinger, raising his eyes up to the ceiling in a mockery of thoughtful contemplation. "Let's see… Could it be the Malfoy line is attached to another bloodline…" he trailed off and glanced over at Severus.
Whatever he saw in Severus' face caused him to drop his hands and grip them behind his back. The entire show would have amused Severus if the blasted blueblood wasn't potentially going to figure out why Severus wanted the information.
"Could be that my line crosses that of another person of personal interest to you… Or those you work for. Hmm, Professor Severus Snape. Death Eater. War Hero. Double Agent… For whom is it that you are seeking?" Draco stopped his pacing and looked Severus straight in the eyes. "Or is this search personal?" Oh, the cheeky brat.
Then Draco's eyebrows flew together in a moment of awe. "It isn't you, is it? Are we related?" Severus snorted, and opened his mouth to respond, but then with a toss of his fair hair, and a twirl on his heel, Draco turned away and began pacing again. "No, not us, because then you would just tell me, and it certainly would be something we'd know about. This has to be someone else. Someone of a certain importance who is not already close to the Malfoy line."
Then Draco stopped cold. His shoulders tensed and in those stiffened lines, Severus read that Draco had figured it out.
"Oh no. Do not tell me."
Severus didn't. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Draco whirled around like a small typhoon and came bearing down on Severus. "Don't tell me—"
"Fine. I will not. Now kindly get me the genealogical records I have requested."
"Who? Who is it? I already know about those idiot Weasleys being related, and not to mention Potter. Oh, please don't tell me it's Filch." Then Draco paled. "Oh Merlin. Not a Mudblood."
Interesting. Even Severus hadn't known about the Potters and Malfoys. More importantly, Draco hadn't figured it out after all.
"Are you ready to hand over—?"
"Severus. Please." The little snob was begging. "Please promise me it isn't Granger. Please."
Severus rolled his eyes. "One of the most intelligent and magically inclined witches of this generation and you are whining about possibly being related to her? Oh, Draco. Do grow up."
That pulled Draco out of his fit, if momentarily. "Fine. I'll take you to the library—" Severus turned to the door, ready to begin so this fiasco could be concluded in all due haste. "—but really, you have to tell me who it is."
He stepped around to face Draco, who'd dropped the contemplative visage, as well as the sniveling begging act, and he looked, for once, like a normal human being.
His thoughts turned to Potter, bleeding and huddled in fright. "It is nobody of your concern, Draco."
There was a flash in Draco's eyes, defiant and burning with just a touch of enmity, but then it was gone. If he was anyone other than Severus Snape, he might wonder if it had actually been there. But even with a near fatal snakebite, he knew what he'd seen.
"Very well. I'll take you to the hall."
~~~
With a spike of adrenaline, the teenager lurched to his feet and nearly fell off the bed he'd been lying on.
In two blinks of his eye, he scurried underneath it, and then held his breath, listening for whatever it was that had jolted him from his dreamless sleep. The room was dark, but he could see the outlines of other beds in the long room. On the air was the scent of something familiar.
Ron.
Then he heard it. Breathing. The soft breathing of sleep.
But that wasn't everything. There was something else on the air. The tang of bitterness, the sharp hint of musk. The hum of anticipation.
He took in a slow, deep breath, then held it. Listening.
There it was. More breathing, hidden, masked by that of the person asleep on the bed next to his. There were three people here. He, and the familiar, and another. Also familiar, but something about the other sent his wings shivering.
He tried to still them, tried to hold onto his anxious nerves and muscles, but they seemed to control him more than he controlled them. Right now they hurt, ached with the need to spread out, to move, and flap and …
Fly.
Reaching out a hand, then a leg, he frog-walked out from under the bed. The room was dark, but he could still see shadows and shapes. He blinked. His eyes felt dry, grainy.
His wings quivered against the tight constriction of the cotton that surrounded their base. Like a cat, he stretched, pulling his hands into claws against the floor, his fingernails catching against the grout between square tiles as his back arched up.
Then he lifted his face and sniffed. Short, quick inhalations that brushed air against the receptors in his nose. There it was again.
Earthy. The scent was earthy.
He crawled forward again. One palm against the floor, followed by another, then a quick step of his feet. He was silent as he crept forward, catching the scent, eyes wide to collect every spark of light in the darkened room.
Keeping close to the line of beds he slunk as low as he could, slipping from one bed to the other, hidden shadow. He didn't have to go far before he found the other.
Three beds from his, across the isle, the other sat in a chair. It was a man, older than the one that was sleeping next to him. This man also slept; his breathing near silent.
With careful exertion he rose to his feet, hunched over in a squat, and stepped towards the sleeping man. Standing before the man in the chair, his wings almost purring they were vibrating so quickly, he studied the form all wrapped up in dark clothing, dark hair. He leaned forward and inhaled again.
Ah, that was it. Musky, earthy, and strong.
Now his wings did purr, a faint hum but loud enough that the man's eyes slowly opened.
Neither said anything as they shared time and space. The man remained stoic under the examination, until finally he settled on the ground and placed his chin on the man's knee.
Soon, he fell asleep.
~~~
Slipping over the lip of each window, the rays of morning sun crept into the Hospital Wing on silent paws. With a flutter of his eyes Severus awoke, and a cramp in his lower back roared to life as his awareness took stock of his surroundings. Half of Potter covered Severus' lap, the other half spilled onto the floor like one of those rag doll cats. Though the whelp was soundly sleeping, a soft buzzing noise emanated from his leathery wings and Severus could see the minute vibrations of the taut skin.
The very situation was strange and creepy. The fact that Potter had snuck up on Severus was enough to shock him. But that he was here, head in his lap, limp hand wrapped up in Severus' robe, was enough to send even the most stable man to the St. Mungo's wards. And Severus wasn't the most stable man.
A groan from across the room alerted Severus to the impending explosion due from the young man's best friend. Severus inwardly cursed, but dared not move or talk or do anything in case Potter awoke and jumped to the ceiling in panic.
A groaned out yawn, the sound of bare feet slapping against the floor, and then Weasley emerged from beyond the privacy screen centered on Potter's bed… the bed that the genetically confused brat was not sleeping in. Weasley saw Severus, with Potter draped across him, and stopped with one foot still in the air.
Severus glared.
Weasley gaped.
Potter stirred.
Both Severus and Weasley looked down at the honeyed head as it rose and then Potter blinked myopically up at Severus, then over to Weasley. Then he yawned, stretched, and set his chin back on Severus' knee, looking up at him with curiosity and peace.
"S—sir," Weasley stuttered. "What's going on?" Potter shifted and looked over at Weasley. A leathery wing stretched long up to the ceiling, shivered a bit, and then relaxed. Then the other. Weasley and Severus watched. Potter sighed.
"As is quite obvious, Mr. Weasley, Potter is resting on me." His back ached. He shifted slightly, and Potter lifted his head again and looked up at Severus. "Go fetch Madam Pomfrey."
Weasley trotted off as the two men continued to contemplate each other.
Soft footsteps revealed Madam Pomfrey's arrival. "Hello, Mr. Potter."
Potter recoiled and practically crawled into Severus' lap. Pomfrey had spoken in her most soothing voice, but something about it frightened the flappable young man. Pressing his head into the small gap between Severus' side and arm, he tried to bury his way into the thick fabric of his robe.
"Oh," she said with a disappointed sigh. Then, "Severus, please see if you can get him to drink this."
He reached for the cup the Healer held outstretched. The contents were clear and cool. Looking from the glass to the form half-burrowed in his lap, he returned his attention to the two observers.
"It might be more beneficial if you two were to remove yourself from his sight at this time. He seems to… be uncomfortable in the presence of too many individuals." And comfortable with him. Wasn't that a wonder?
Pomfrey grabbed Weasley's upper arm and dragged him away; the entire trek to Pomfrey's office, Weasley watched them over his shoulder, practically stumbling over his uncoordinated feet.
When they were gone, Severus reached up with his right arm and tentatively touched the back of Potter's head. Potter's entire body shivered and then he pulled his head away from the safety of Severus' armpit and glanced up into his face.
Those eyes. So green.
"Drink this." Severus held out the glass. Potter looked at it, his head tilted to the side. Then he looked back up at Severus. All of the young man's actions were intentional; no movement was wasted. It was eerily similar to that of a bird, or mantis.
With a sigh, Severus sipped from the glass, then held it out to Potter. Slowly, the young man leaned forward and set his lips onto the rim of the glass. Severus tilted the glass and watched the overhead light reflect off the silver stream of liquid as it slipped into Potter's open lips.
Once the cool liquid touched his tongue, Potter realized what it was. Eagerly, he gripped the glass in both hands and Severus released it as Potter guzzled down the water. When he finished he looked longingly down into the glass, then up at Severus.
"Would you care for more, Potter?" Potter looked up at him. "Harry?" Something in those eyes sparkled, glowed.
He used to worry about inconsequential things, like the plight of good over evil and his own mortality, but now he found himself focused on one person entirely. And it wasn't a soothing realization.
Potter nodded, and Severus said, "Well, I will have to rise to get it for you."
Those eyes, brilliant and oddly trusting, were uncomprehending. Slowly, Severus moved to stand, letting the broken man slip from his place on his lap. Like a lithe ferret, Potter slipped to the floor, resting on one hip as he looked up at Severus. The way he was sitting, almost demure with those amazing wings vibrating, caused Severus' breath to catch in his chest. He was beautiful, but too vulnerable after everything that had happened to him.
Too vulnerable to have Severus staring at him like that.
"Come on now. Nobody will hurt you."
Severus turned away and began walking towards the sink. He heard nothing behind him, but his attuned perception caught the sense of an adjacent presence, and he knew Potter had followed. He put the glass under the faucet and filled it. Slowly, he turned and Potter was right there. Mere feet away.
He held out the glass, and Potter took it, once again with two hands, and emptied the glass.
Then he looked up at Severus again. Something pure in those eyes, like adoration.
Severus swallowed.
"Hello, Harry."
Potter jumped in the air and quickly dove behind Severus for the safety provided by the sink. Pomfrey and Weasley stood off to the side. Severus glanced over his shoulder at the huddled man and reached out his hand.
"It is fine. They will not hurt you."
Potter looked at the outstretched hand, then up at Severus.
"I will not let them hurt you, Harry." The entire world was eons away.
Slowly, inch by inch, Harry unfurled himself and crawled out from under the sink, his hand firmly gripping Severus'.
"I think he's taken a shine to you, young man," Pomfrey said with enough joviality to make Severus cringe.
"It appears so."
"But why?" Weasley barked. Harry stiffened and gazed at his friend with huge eyes. Weasley grimaced and said more quietly, "Why does he trust Professor Snape. No insult intended, sir."
Oh, certainly not, Severus thought. "I've no idea," he said.
With a strong hold on Potter, Severus pulled him forward and walked him towards Pomfrey and his best friend. Both stood still, apparently understanding the fragility of the moment.
"Harry." When had he fallen into calling the Golden Boy by his first name? "This is Ronald Weasley. He is your friend. You trust him with your life." Though the gods knew why. Potter tilted his head, examining Weasley like he had the glass of water, then he lifted up his hand, reaching halfway. Something grew bright in the red-head's face and he gently touched Potter's hand.
"Hi, Harry."
Potter smiled.
Ron grinned like a boy riding his first broom.
"This," Severus said, "is Madam Pomfrey. A Healer. She has been helping you for years. You also trust her with your life."
Again, Potter looked up into Severus' face, then over at the older woman, like he had to check first with Severus. He then reached out for her, and she touched his hand, unshed tears building in her eyes.
"Harry. My sweet boy. We're going to help you. We will."
Potter dropped his hand from hers and reached back behind him. Embarrassed, Severus held it. It was warm and soft and felt right in his own.
"Come with me, Potter." He led the man to his bed. With a pounce, he landed on the mattress, adjusting his wings to hang over the far side. Relieved and excited, Pomfrey began her diagnostics.
~~~
With an eye for subtlety and subterfuge that had been honed during the Dark Lord's occupation of the Manor, Draco knew that Severus was hiding something fascinating. After Severus had left following hours of research, Draco himself had dug through his ancestry records. Nothing was much of a shock, the worst of it realizing he was related to that imbecile Fudge four generations back. His eyes traced over the fine scrawl that listed his great great grandfather Marci Rendoran, a full-blooded veela. Draco knew he wasn't fully human and had been disappointed when none of the veela traits had developed in him. It was actually a point of honor for the Malfoy clan. There was the expected twining of most of the pureblooded families in Europe with each other. But nothing else jumped out at him.
He wasn't surprised he'd found nothing. He'd had no idea what he was looking for.
Draco didn't know where else to look, but the mystery interested him enough to plan a visit to Hogwarts, where he knew the old family friend was residing with a few other professors and individuals who were working to rebuild the castle.
Walking through the deserted halls, some of them crumbled and impassable, brought a sense of loss and guilt to Draco. This place held some of his most important memories: his first kiss, his first fuck, showing up that infuriating Potter. The power of being on the Inquisitional Squad. He stared down at his feet. Not to mention the feeling of panic and desperation trying to fix that blasted cabinet. The Death Eaters swarming the halls. So much had happened here in his 18 years of life.
He'd discovered that the passage to the Slytherin common rooms, and therefore Severus' old quarters, had collapsed. Keeping to side passages with his eyes and ears wide, he walked the length of the castle, hoping to find the man and maybe some hints as to what got his cockles in a bend.
He was walking down a northern hallway covered in dust. As he approached a major intersection, he heard footsteps approach and ducked behind a moth-eaten tapestry.
"… And he barely even lets me touch him!"
It was the Weasel. Why was he there?
"It's… bizarre the way he's so attached to Snape. It's obvious this whole… change has had major implications on him. I think we just need to give him time."
"Yeah, sure. By then he'll be…"
Draco strained his ears but couldn't hear the Mudblood and Weasley anymore as they turned around a corner. Why were they even there? And where was the stupid Hero? And wasn't that cute… Weasley had a crush on a boy and his love was spurned. Draco chuckled. He couldn't wait to spread that rumor around.
But his love interest was attached to Snape? That was Draco's first impression; though he knew it wasn't wise to make such assertions based on only a few words overhead. He would have to find out more… Once he'd figured out why Snape was researching the Malfoy bloodline.
He stepped out around the corner and headed the way those two had come.
He met nobody in the halls until he came upon the Hospital Wing. At the door to the Wing he overheard more voices. Pressing up to the door and opening it a crack, he listened. Severus was talking.
"I know the flavor is lacking, but you must eat." There was a pause, then, "One bite and I will let you have more water. But you have to eat."
Draco swallowed on a snort. Severus was feeding someone? Was it a baby or toddler? Could it be a foundling? Maybe Severus thought it was a Malfoy. Draco cracked the door open a bit more.
"What is it?" Severus spoke as if he were talking to a little firsty. "Come back here! Potter!"
Potter?
But Draco didn't have much time to process that thought because the door was slammed open and Draco was mauled by someone, the force enough to practically launch them through the air to crash into the other side of the hallway. In the brief moment before his head cracked against the stone he saw the face of someone familiar, but it certainly wasn't anybody he knew.
~~~
Severus felt like a rat was gnawing at his belly, and the sympathetic twitches churned under the length of his neck. The gnawing came from watching Potter clinging to a comatose Draco Malfoy, and the twitch came from the snakebite that caused Severus to take stock in his near misses.
He glared across the aisle at Draco's pale form lying underneath a starched white sheet, wishing his gaze alone had the power to vaporize his victims. Pomfrey had administered a potion to pull the boy into consciousness, but it took time, so Severus insisted on watching the privileged wanker lie there while Potter clutched onto his hand.
What was he thinking? He was acting like a jealous teenager when his favorite girl smiled at the school Seeker.
The last few days with Potter clinging to him, relying on him, had initially confused Severus, but it also had the added effect of softening something cold and hard within him. Ever since the curse had been removed, Severus realized his eyes kept being drawn to Potter. And though he felt stupid even thinking this, it was like Potter had an inner glow that held precious promises. Logically, he knew it must be the entrancement powers uncontrolled by the fledgling veela, or a mix of whatever it was that Potter also had hidden in his bloodline. Logically, he knew that in Potter's current state, the teenager couldn't control his reactions to outside stimulus. Logically, Severus knew he was as old as Potter's father… both of them. Logically…
Oh, screw logic. Severus wanted him. Wanted to take care of him. Protect him. Wanted to wrap him up in his arms and carry him far away. Wanted to burry his nose in that soft acorn-colored hair.
Merlin! Severus wanted to hide his face in his hands, hide away from his improper thoughts and school boy impulses. Instead he watched Potter stare into Draco's face. Every so often he would reach out and run his finger along the upturn of Draco's nose, and then do it to his own.
Then he would smile.
And the darkness in the room would cease to exist.
Severus stood to leave.
The scrape of the chair against the floor startled Potter, and he looked over at Severus. Severus stopped and realized that as Potter glanced from Draco to him, a worried, fretful jerk to his mannerisms, he couldn't just leave. In five strides he was by Potter's side, and the nails digging into his arm as Potter pulled him close to his side were a comfort.
"You don't want me to leave."
Potter looked up at him from under a mask of anxiety, holding each man by one of his hands, stuck in the middle like an iron link.
"Fine." Severus lifted his wand and summoned his chair. He sat down next to Potter on the side of Draco's bed.
It wasn't terribly long before Draco woke up; Severus was in a light snooze. A Nancy-like squeal jolted him to complete alertness. Draco was jerking on his arm, trying to pull it free from Potter's grasp, but Potter kept hold of it, his frantic gaze switching from Severus to Draco, a low whine filling the air.
"Draco. Calm down," Severus said in an even voice.
"But… Wings! Who…? What…? Gah! Make it let me go!" He continued to tug and flail in the bed and Potter continued to hold fast, on the edge of a complete terror attack if Severus could read the man correctly.
"Draco. Stop this instant."
Draco stilled and looked from Severus to Potter. Then his eyes landed on Potter's face and he looked, really looked, and his mouth fell open.
"Potter?" he asked in a squeak.
Severus observed the longing in Potter's eyes, though for the most part his face was completely unresponsive to Draco speaking his name.
"Yes," Severus said. "This is Harry Potter…. Harry Malfoy, to be exact, but we've decided not to change his name."
It took three heartbeats and then, "What?" Finally, Draco had managed to pull his arm free and Potter was on his feet, his wings held stiffly away from his body, giving him the impression of poised for flight.
"Fucking Morgana's tits!" Draco said as he scrambled to the other side of the bed. Severus heaved a heavy sigh.
"Potter." No response. "Harry," he snapped. Potter turned and looked at him, his wings performing their odd little hum as he faced Severus. Then he glanced back at Draco, reaching out for him. In the incandescent lighting, Severus saw his eyes glistening.
Thought played no part in Severus gently holding onto Potter's elbow and guiding him close to Severus' chest.
"It's okay, Harry. Draco isn't running away." Severus wasn't sure why Potter had become attached to him; it made a little more sense for him to want to be with Draco. Perhaps, something in his blood called out to his brother, and wasn't that a barrel of jokes?
Draco panted, using the hospital bed as a shield against Potter, who was currently being held by Severus. Part of Severus felt silly. A larger part didn't give a damn how this might look.
"Draco, why don't you sit down and I will explain."
Draco remained standing. "So this," Draco gestured towards Potter, whose wings quivered as he stared hard at Draco, "Is why you needed to go through the Malfoy records?"
"Yes."
"What…" He swallowed whatever it was he was going to say and refined his question after a cleansing breath. "What has happened to him?" The worlds trailed off into something small and full of pity.
"His genetics have kicked in." Draco looked at him curiously. "Do you want the succinct story or the long drawn out epic?"
Draco did a quick shake to his head. "I don't care. Just tell me what is going on."
"Fine. Draco Malfoy, meet your half brother, Harry Potter. He is the progeny of an unwilling tryst between your father and Lily Evans." Draco looked like one of those mutated goldfish with bulging eyes and constant gaping mouth. "His genetic code had been masked until he fulfilled his duty to defeat the Dark Lord. Now that concealment is no longer needed his genetics have been allowed to revert to their natural state. Unfortunately, the Malfoy veela gene and something possibly inhuman from Lily Evans' genetic line have somehow… affected each other. He doesn't appear to know who he is and the only people he seems to truly trust are me… and apparently you."
There was a moment of silence, and then, "What?"
Severus raised one eyebrow. "Well, I had assumed you wanted the short version."
After a long drawn out conference with Draco, at times attended by Pomfrey, Severus convinced the Malfoy heir that Potter was in fact his younger half-brother, that he was a partial veela, and that his brain had gone Neanderthal.
That last part hadn't been a hard sell.
Draco's gaze rarely left Potter, and Potter appeared more relaxed when under the scrutiny of his brother. When Severus had finished, Draco stood, his face hard. "This is ridiculous. He might be my father's son, but he is not my brother. I am the Malfoy heir, and no mixed breed son of a Muggle will ever be equal to me." With a last look of disdain, he turned away from Severus and Potter, and rushed out of the Hospital Wing.
Potter cried out, reaching after the retreating man.
~~~
“I can't see why it matters to him. I mean really, it's Rat Face! Why does he care about what Rat Face does?”
“Ron, quit being so insensitive. From what Professor Snape said, it really affected Harry when Malfoy left the room.”
Surrounded by Potter do-gooders, Severus felt strangely integral to the energetic crowd. Though he had planted himself far off to the side, away from the teenagers and Pomfrey, he still felt cemented by a common cause. One that—as odd as it seemed—he had actually chosen himself. Potter, thankfully, was drugged and sleeping peacefully in a bed nearby.
“But... Why would...” Weasley continued to struggle against the concept that somebody, anybody, would be inclined to spend time with Draco, let alone his closest friend.
“I believe,” Severus interrupted Weasley's vague attempt to put multiple words together to complete a sentence, “that Potter, in his current state, recognized Draco as blood.”
Granger looked up at Severus and he saw that she'd long ago come to that conclusion and the little know-it-all had a pile of other questions she wanted to ask that Severus sorely wished she wouldn't. But stars and wells had never worked for him before.
“Excuse me, sir.” She was being overly polite. Severus steeled himself for the inevitable. “That explains his connection to Malfoy... Draco. But, it doesn't...” she stopped and Severus silently dared her to continue. “Well, it doesn't explain his interest ... well, to be blunt, attraction to you.”
The two held each other's eyes. Her audacity was par for the course. “No. It does not.”
He lifted up his tea cup and took a sip, everyone's attention on him. He didn't have an explanation for Potter's... attraction. He did have an assumption to his own interest in the young veela, recently sparked with the changes his genetics had undergone. He would never act on it... To give into a veela's charms was purely a symptom of a weak mind and will, either of which Severus most certainly did not have.
“It appears to me,” Pomfrey said as she flipped through a sheaf of papers on a clipboard, “that he finds you comforting, Severus. Whenever he is in close proximity to you, his heart rate decreases and his breathing evens out. The only odd symptom is the fluttering of his wings, which only seems to happen near you. But it appears to be a soothing reaction, not one of agitation.” She scribbled something towards the edge of one page, the feather of her quill dancing with her sharp strokes.
Granger stirred in her chair, the movement drawing Severus' gaze. She was staring right at him. Damn, the girl had no subtly. For a moment their eyes were connected, but then she looked away. Good, maybe this time she would hold her tongue.
“I have alerted Professor McGonagall to Potter's current situation," Pomfrey said. "She expressed interest in returning from the Hogwarts redesign meetings in Edinburgh, but I told her to stay put, that unless she was an expert in creature bloodlines, she was more useful at the meeting.”
“Good. The place is already overrun with eager Potter lovers.”
“Hey! He's our friend, you're just--”
“Ron!”
Weasley shot his gaze towards Granger, then glowered at Severus. He sat back down, but Severus could practically see the steam rising from the teen's ears.
“Well, sir,” Granger turned her attention to him. “As you said, we are all eager to find a way to help Harry. Obviously, we can do nothing about the genetic anomaly he's currently coping with. We know he's got veela genes from Malfoy. And something else from his mother, something... dragon?" She pursed her lips, resembling McGonagall in one of her contemplative moments. "I've done some research but without a full ancestor lineage, I can't really tell what else he might be. But these two genetic bloodlines are rampaging through Harry and if we can offer him any comfort, then I say we offer it." Though her voice was even through her entire speech, Severus could hear the crackle of anxiety tempering each word.
Severus dipped his head. "And I will offer what I can," he said. Granger and Pomfrey nodded while Weasley looked like his head might fly off his shoulders at any minute.
Severus hoped it would, he needed a little mindless entertainment.
Movement drew Severus' attention away as the two continued speculating and bickering. Close to the ground, Potter was slinking up to them, walking on all fours like a gecko clinging to a wall. His movements were slow, calculated, but enough that eventually Granger noticed him.
"What are you looking at? Hey, Harry!"
Ron almost lurched from his chair, but then sat back down, pressing his flattened palms into the denim of his jeans.
Potter lifted his head, his eyes sparkling; then he giggled, burst from behind the desk he was creeping around and launched himself at Severus.
In less then three second Severus had a lap full of cheery, winged Potter. With open innocence Potter looked from his friends to Severus, a contented smile on his thin lips.
"Hello, Harry," Severus said. This close to Potter, Severus felt the skin across his arms and face tighten, the beat of his heart increase. Like the reactions of adding a potion ingredient to a bubbling cauldron, Severus cataloged his body's changes to the shifting of Potters weight as he leaned forward and saw exactly how this recipe was about to explode. It was out of his control. Like a mouse trapped by the gaze of a swaying python, Severus froze as Potter leaned forward and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth.
Silence settled upon the room like it did upon the dead.
With his wings purring like a damned cat, Potter wrapped his arms around Severus and rested his head on his chest right above his thudding heart.
With a force of will, Severus looked up at his three companions. He saw horror and resignation, neither was unexpected.