Metamorphose - by vividzephyr Title: Metamorphose Author:vividzephyr Pairing: Snape/Harry Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~5000 Warning(s): A bit non-canon compliant with some of Deathly Hallows. Beta: MistyC Prompt: Harry finds a broken Veela and nurses her/him back to health, only to discover it is someone rather familiar... The Veela should be quite vicious if anyone except Harry tries to help it, full Veela mode, wings, beak etc, the reason for this is up to the author. Harry is, of course, completely clueless. Summary: Spinner’s End receives unexpected visitors. Then it receives a more expected visitor. Author's Notes: Lots of last minute changes with help from my Beta, but eventually we got it done, any errors left are all mine. This fic takes place 3 – 4 days after Harry defeats Voldemort to give a more specific timeline for anyone who cares to know.
Disclaimer: This piece of art or fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Harry glanced around the room as they entered the battered-looking old house at Spinner’s End.
He hefted Crookshanks’s crate onto the table in front of the old sofa and unlatched it so the part-kneazle could explore the new surroundings while Harry tried to recall Snape’s memory of the house. Crookshanks sniffed the stale air and cast a disgruntled glare at the two boys entrusted with his care.
“Are you sure we should stay here?” Ron asked as he poked at a book with the tip of his wand. “Knowing Snape this place is probably booby trapped! Paranoid git.”
“You could go back to the burrow, you know.” Harry replied.
Ron tensed and his face screwed up. Harry knew why Ron didn’t want to go home right now. Fred’s funeral had been only two days ago and Molly was torn between mourning her son’s death and overcompensating with her surviving children. George was sullen and quiet now that his twin was gone and the other Weasleys all tip-toed around him as if afraid he’d break. Ron hadn’t been able to handle the atmosphere and had begged Harry to let him stay with him while Hermione was away in Australia.
“I can’t. You know how everything’s changed. I just… I really need to be away from all that right now.” Ron whined. “Anyways, why can’t we stay in Hogsmeade or at the Leaky Cauldron? Why Snape’s house?”
“Because I don’t want to have to push my way through hordes of people trying to congratulate me on Voldemort’s death, Ron! I’m sick of it.” He tugged the old bookcase open to reveal a hidden staircase.
“Whoa! How’d you know that was there, mate?”
“Snape’s memories. I know everything about this house thanks to him. Dunno if he wanted me to, though. I think he just meant to give me memories of my mum and Dumbledore.” Harry shrugged and began to walk up the creaky steps, followed closely by Ron.
“What do you reckon’s up here?”
“Two bedrooms and a bath.” Harry replied simply. It was strange being here. It felt like déjà vu despite the fact that Harry had never set foot in the house before now.
Harry stopped at the first bedroom and peered in, ignoring Ron’s exclamation of disgust at the unkempt bathroom. This was Snape’s room, but it showed none of the previous occupant’s personality. The walls were off-white, and the bedding looked thin and worn. No pictures were hung on the walls, and no books were placed on the bedside table. It looked… empty.
“I’ll take this one.”
-
It had taken them another day before the small house at Spinner’s End was habitable. Ron was surprisingly good with household charms which he made extensive use of in both the kitchen and bathroom. Harry tried his hand at transfiguring the couch into something more comfortable, but it seemed to resist all his efforts so they had finally settled on waiting for Hermione to return before bothering with it.
The bedrooms almost looked transformed now that the beds and furniture looked clean. Harry had gone out and bought some linens for the beds, but Ron had insisted on using his old Chudley Cannons blanket on his bed.
“Brightens up the room, dontcha think?” Ron admired the newly remade bed, his smile fading when Crookshanks jumped on it.
Inwardly, Harry thought it didn’t seem to go very well with the somber-looking wallpaper. The cream paper had aged to a dirty brown and the patterns on it seemed to have faded, just barely existing if you squinted enough. They’d need to fix the walls anyways. His own room’s walls were badly scuffed and charred in spots where he suspected Snape had missed a fly with a hex. At least they’d gotten rid of the mildewy smell.
“Oi!” Ron shouted as Crookshanks pounced the Chudley Cannon’s keeper and then tried to bite the terrified flier’s head off. Ron rushed to his blanket’s rescue, but the half-kneazle had already moved on and was chasing the beaters around the bed.
As Harry left the room he could hear a loud rip followed by Ron wailing and Crookshanks snarling. Hermione’d definitely be hearing about this when she got back.
-
“Crooksh--! HA-ree! Get down here and get Crookshanks!” Ron bellowed from the doorway.
“What?”
Ron scowled at Harry over the armful of groceries, most of which was muggle junk food. “That stupid kneazle ran outside when I was trying to close the door. I’ve gotta put this stuff up, so you can get that mangy thing.”
“Hermione’ll kill you if you lost her cat.” Harry laughed as he went off after the bandy-legged creature.
Crookshanks was peering around a raggedy-looking hedge when Harry approached. The half kneazle took one look at Harry and shot off like a bullet, causing Harry to jump in shock. How could such a stubby little bow-legged cat be so fast?
Harry was about to run after the now blurry streak of ginger when a sound stopped him short. Glancing down, he saw what Crookshanks had been sniffing at before Harry had arrived. It looked like a gigantic bird’s claw. For a moment, Harry thought it was some big bird that had attracted the primal hunter in Crookshanks, but as he moved closer, he noticed a distinctly humanoid shape amongst black feathers, blood, and dusty black rags.
“Harry!” It was Ron’s voice. “What’re you doing? You--!” Ron stopped mid-shout when he caught sight of the body. “Is- is it… alive?” He gasped between pants. All thoughts of the runaway Crookshanks had gone at the sight of blood.
Harry vaguely remembered seeing a cop show on the Dursleys’ telly once where the cop had determined whether someone was dead by touching some point on their neck. Harry pushed several glistening feathers out of the vicinity where he thought the neck had to be, but was astonished when the creature jerked at the touch.
“He’s alive!” Harry whispered.
“Whaddowedo?” Ron blurted out. “Wait. Think straight now, Ron. Uhm. Uh, oh yeah! Notice-me-not!” Ron stuttered out the spell, then repeated it quickly.
“Thanks.” Harry reached for the creature. “We need to take it inside and then we can call Pomfrey or something.” Harry said.
“Alright.” Ron sighed, obviously relieved to let Harry take over. “I’ll levitate it, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll hold the head. So the neck won’t break or something.” Harry said, vaguely remembering something else from that same show.
“Where’re we gonna put it?” Ron asked as he levitated the bloodied creature into the house. “The couch?”
“No. Let’s use my bed. I don’t think the couch is big enough anyways.” Harry glanced at the couch. No, definitely not big enough to comfortably lay this thing on.
Within minutes the creature was carefully laid down on Harry’s bed and Madam Pomfrey was leaning over it, tsking away as she tended to do whenever she saw a bad injury. Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances. The creature had turned out to be a sort of bird-man once they’d finally gotten a look at him. He was soaked in blood and covered in nasty looking scars, and Harry couldn’t help but feel a flare of sympathy for him. He was glad they’d turned to Pomfrey instead of St. Mungos.
“Well, he’s stable for now.” Pomfrey straightened up. “His body is fighting several toxins. It seems whatever attacked him was poisonous. He likely won’t be able to communicate verbally until his throat heals a bit, so he’ll need to be watched closely. The only reason he’s still alive is his natural veela powers.”
“What? That’s a veela?” Ron gasped. Harry couldn’t believe it either. All the veelas he’d seen had had silvery feathers, delicate features, and narrow beaks when transformed, rather like angry songbirds. This one had coal black feathers and sharp, almost hawk-like features.
“The veelas you’ve seen are descendants of the siren line of veelas. There were other related lines as well.” She turned back to the unconscious veela. “This is probably a descendant of the harpy line.”
“Harpy? Those ugly ancient things?” Ron choked.
Madam Pomfrey gave him a sharp glare and Ron had the good grace to look ashamed. “Those ‘things’, as you call them, while not having the magical charm and natural beauty of their siren cousins, were powerful magical beings that were poorly documented by scholars.”
“So it’s a harpy, then?” Harry asked, thinking it wasn’t nearly as ugly as Ron’s reaction had suggested.
“Not precisely. He’s only a descendant of a harpy and has some wizard and muggle blood. It’s the harpy blood and abilities that he inherited that are saving him now. If he had merely been a wizard or a muggle, he would have died long before now.”
“So, what do we do?” Ron asked impatiently.
“The same as you’d do for any other wizard, Mr. Weasley.” Madam Pomfrey said matter-of-factly. “You will give him a tablespoon from a vial of the healing potion I’ll be supplying you with thrice daily. He should be fed clear liquids at first, but with the potion he should heal quickly and he will be able to eat solids. Probably within a week.”
“Mrraow?” Crookshanks sauntered into the room and leaped onto the bed, curling up near the veela’s feet before staring haughtily at the other room’s occupants.
“Stupid kneazle.” Ron and Crookshanks glared at each other. “I’d better go shut the front door, then.” Ron muttered, casting one last angry glance at Crookshanks. The half-kneazle merely licked its paw as if totally unconcerned with Ron’s irritation.
“Is it okay for Crookshanks to be around the veela?” Harry asked, wondering if kneazles and veelas mixed any better than cats and birds.
“Oh yes, he should be perfectly fine. Kneazles are smart creatures and veelas aren’t very different from most wizards in that sense.” Madam Pomfrey smiled. “And it seems that your kneazle likes him.”
-
The next day, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see the veela awaken. He’d thought the veela looked familiar, but the only person he knew who had such penetrating gold eyes had been Madam Hooch and this certainly wasn’t her!
“Can you sit up now?” Harry asked.
A rough rumbling noise and a painful sounding cough were his reply, but the veela did sit up. Harry tried to place a vial of the healing potion to the veela’s lips, but the veela grasped his hand in a surprisingly firm grip and lifted the vial to his beak and sniffed. A satisfied look crossed the veela’s face and he allowed Harry to pour the healing potion down his throat.
“I’m glad you’re awake.” Harry murmured soothingly as he reached for a jar of salve. “It was difficult to give you that potion while you were out. This? It’s a healing potion, too. You want to sniff?” Harry let the veela guide his hand to his beak once again. “I just have to rub this on your wound.”
The veela sighed as Harry gently massaged the salve onto the badly scarred wound. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, okay?” Harry asked, but the veela merely closed his eyes. Harry smiled. If this was how caring for the injured was, he might like to be a mediwizard. If he could pass Potions on his own for once.
Harry traced over the raised scar lines from the wound that criss-crossed from the veela’s neck down under the newly transfigured robes he wore. There were so many scars. Harry looked up at the veela’s face, relieved to see the healing potion had put him into a healing sleep. He traced over the scars one last time before leaving the veela to sleep in peace.
He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch while the veela got better. The couch was a little lumpy, but Harry had fond memories of it. Even if they weren’t his, the memories turned the couch into a familiar comfort.
-
“How come he never scratches you?” Ron groused as he flicked his wand at the frying pan.
Harry simply shrugged as he sat down for a breakfast of slightly burnt eggs and ham. “Well, it means you don’t have to take care of him, right?”
Ron snorted. “I’m no good at taking care of the sick. Just ask Gin. Too bad I’m not any better at cooking. You gonna go back up there after you’re done?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Gin firecalled from Mum’s this morning. She wants to see you. What’s up with you two anyways?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, maybe you should tell her that seein’ as how she’s got other ideas. She thinks you’ll be getting back together now that all this…” Ron waved his spatula, “is over.”
Harry sighed. He knew that at some point he did love Ginny very, very much, but ever since Harry had defeated Voldemort he couldn’t dredge up the same feelings. Throughout Fred’s funeral, she had held his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder as she had always done when they had gone out together, but now it felt uncomfortable. He had fought not to pull away from her, afraid that any rejection at that time would cause her to break down in front of him and he wouldn’t know what to do then.
“I’ll talk to her later.”
-
“I’ve got dinner for you.”
Harry smiled to the veela as he levitated the tray of potions and broth into the bedroom. The veela’s almost constant scowl always seemed to lessen a little whenever he looked at Harry. Harry took it as a sign that the veela didn’t actually hate him.
The veela could make more rasping noises and hisses now, but it didn’t seem able to manage words yet. Even though they both knew the veela could feed himself, Harry still spoon fed him and the veela still let himself be spoon fed.
“Harry!” Ron shouted, poking his head in the doorway. The veela sputtered and hissed. “Hey now, shush you. I’ve just come to tell Harry he’s got a visitor.” Ron muttered before disappearing again.
Harry met the veela’s golden eyes before looking away. “I guess I’d better go. You should be able to manage, right?” Harry could feel the veela’s penetrating stare following him out the door.
“Harry!”
As soon as Harry had stepped off the staircase, he found himself with an armful of redhead. Ginny squeezed him tightly to her and tried to kiss his lips, but he pushed her away.
“Harry? What’s wrong? I haven’t seen you since…”
“Gin. I think we should talk.” Harry stumbled over the words, attempting to sound forceful.
“Oh. Okay.” Ginny glanced at him and sat down on Snape’s couch. She gazed at him expectantly, but the look in her eyes only increased his discomfort.
“Ginny, I know we got on really well before…” Harry paused and cleared his throat. “Well, things happened, you know. And…”
“And?” Now Ginny was on her feet, her face a thundercloud and her hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to give this up now. Not because of him!”
“Him?” Harry asked, not sure what Ginny meant. His mind immediately jumped to the veela upstairs, but that didn’t make sense. Ginny hadn’t even met him yet.
“Voldemort! He’s dead. Gone! You can move on now. I’m not afraid of his Death Eaters. I want to be with you and I know you still care about me. You would have told me so if you didn’t.” She swayed towards him, attempting to look alluring but only making him feel sick.
“I’m sorry, Gin. I really am.” Harry insisted. “And you’ve got it wrong. I have moved on. I just don’t feel the same.”
Harry knew the instant he’d said those words that he’d regret them.
“Then why?” Ginny shrieked, causing her brother to come running with his wand drawn. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I was too weak? That I wouldn’t be able to handle it?” Tears were flowing down her face now.
“I’m really sorry, Ginny! I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, you did!” Ginny snapped. “I’m not some little kid anymore! I did everything Hermione said and you loved me. Why don’t you love me now?”
“Gin, I think you should go.” Ron stepped between them and ushered his little sister to the fireplace. “Just think about things right now, okay?”
Ginny nodded and sniffled before vanishing in a puff of smoke.
“Thank—“ Harry started, only to be shocked silent by Ron’s punch.
“She was right, you know.” Ron glared. “You didn’t have to pretend you liked her if you didn’t.” With a pop Ron was gone and Harry was left alone in Snape’s old home with the injured veela and Crookshanks.
Harry sighed and brushed his fingers against the sore bruise Ron had surely left on his jaw. A sudden weight pressed against his legs and Harry glanced down at Crookshanks’s squashed-looking face. Well, at least the kneazle didn’t hate him.
-
Harry snuggled closer to the warmth and hummed against his pillow. The quilt felt snug, but Harry didn’t mind, it was as if he was being held. And then the pillow moved and the quilt shifted. Harry opened his eyes to tell Ron to bugger off, but instead found himself face to face with the veela. Harry blushed when he realized the veela was wide awake and staring at him. In the same bed.
Harry sat up and glanced around when the veela withdrew his arms. He missed being held, but right now finding out what had happened was in the forefront of his mind. He was still clothed, but he must’ve crawled into bed last night after drinking what was left of Ron’s beer when Ron didn’t return.
Feeling humiliated and more than a little out to sea, Harry crawled out of the bed and stuttered an apology to the veela. He was sure he hadn’t gotten badly pissed, but he’d still done something incredibly stupid if he’d unknowingly crawled into bed with the veela.
“I-I’ll go fix dinner, then. Right.” Harry backed away, smacking against the doorframe before scrambling down the steps.
When Harry got downstairs, he was surprised to hear a sizzling sound from the kitchen accompanied with the tantalizing smell of bacon. Harry ran to the kitchen expecting to see Ron, but was stopped short by the sight of Hermione, normally frizzy hair pulled back in a severe bun and an apron tied around her waist, frying up bacon the muggle way. Crookshanks sat a short distance away from her, eating from his food bowl.
“Hermione? I thought you were in Australia?”
“I was.” She said without taking her eyes off the pan. “Mum and Dad are still having trouble remembering some things, but I got them back home last night and they’re pretty much settled.” She tipped more bacon onto a towel to drain and cracked some eggs in the skillet. “I was surprised to hear from Ron this morning.”
Harry felt his stomach plummet. “Oh?” He dropped down into his chair.
Hermione finally glanced back at him. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m not mad at you. Ron and Ginny… well, they’re going through a rough time. She just feels foolish that you didn’t let her know.”
“I know, and I regret that now.” Harry muttered, meaning every word.
“I know. Don’t worry, they’ll get over it. Just give them time.” Hermione smiled. “So, was that the veela Ron talked about upstairs?”
“What? You saw…?”
“I went to see you and you were asleep over the covers. He was very protective of you. Took me a while before I could convince him to let me tuck you in.” Hermione smiled knowingly. Harry felt his face heating up.
Hermione tipped the bacon on a plate and placed it in front of Harry. “Don’t let it bother you. If you really like him, then you should let him know.”
“But I don’t!” Harry protested, not certain how he felt. “I hardly know him. How could I possibly like him?” Hermione just gave him a look.
“Are you sure you don’t know him? He looks awfully familiar to me.” Hermione said as she scooped an egg out onto Harry’s plate.
Something in Hermione’s tone caused Harry to stop and think. He had thought the veela looked familiar when Madam Pomfrey had cleaned him up, but he’d put it off as wishful thinking. The golden eyes had practically convinced him that it wasn’t Snape, but what if it was? Suddenly it made all too much sense. Harry dropped his fork with a clink and ran to the bedroom.
Standing by the lone window looking out at the neighboring house’s gloomy brick wall was the familiar figure of Severus Snape. His wings and feathers and even his scaly claws had disappeared. When he turned around, Harry could practically imagine the beak where the hooked nose now was. Harry was surprised to see that the eyes were still golden, not inky black, but they were as unfathomable as ever.
“Snape?”
“Yss…” a cough. “Yes.” Came the rasped voice of the ex-headmaster.
“Oh god, you’re alive.” Harry gasped. Hundreds of thoughts flittered through his mind. How did you get here? How do I explain what I’m doing living in his house? What should I do? Does he want the memories back?
Snape merely shook his head and frowned. “Potter.” He choked out. “I don’t care.”
Harry was startled by the words. “Oh, Legilimency.” Harry flushed. In different circumstances he might’ve been enraged that Snape had rifled through his thoughts, but now he was grateful. Even if it was embarrassing.
“Do… do you want me to leave?” Harry asked, not sure why the question made him anxious.
Snape moved quickly, like a snake catching its prey in its coils. His hands grasped Harry’s shoulders tightly, holding the mesmerized Gryffindor in place. Green eyes met golden and Harry could hear Snape’s voice, not his real voice, raspy and painful from the damage caused by Nagini’s bite, but inside Harry’s head.
‘No.’ It felt so arousing, that silken voice reverberating inside his skull. ‘I want… you. To stay.’ There was some deep promise in that voice. It made Harry shiver, though he couldn’t understand why.
“Okay.” Harry replied, feeling as if he’d just been hit by a jelly legs jinx.
‘Good.’
-
After they’d said their goodbyes to Hermione and Crookshanks, Harry followed Snape to the couch. They sat awkwardly for some time before a thought finally occurred to Harry. “Why did you change back now? Why not before?”
Harry could feel the brush of legilimency as golden eyes settled on him. ‘I can only assume the potion has run its course for the most part. The potions you gave me were of my own making and were, of course, quite effective, but I don’t quite know if it wasn’t also due to feeling a sort of incentive to change.’
“Oh. I see.”
‘I think we should talk about Ms. Weasley.’
Harry frowned, trying to understand why he had suddenly changed the subject. “Ginny? Why? What’s wrong with her?” He asked, suddenly concerned that something may have happened to Ginny.
Severus’s eyes shifted away, breaking the mental connection he’d established. “No.” His voice sounded painfully raw. “I was… wrong. I. Should go.” The words were forced out.
“Wait!” Harry couldn’t understand what he’d said that was so wrong. “What did I do? Where are you going?”
The older wizard looked at Harry again, ‘I shan’t bother you and your girlfriend. I realize it was useless.’ Even in his own mind, Harry could hear the bitterness in Severus’s voice.
“Wait. Wait. What does Ginny have to do with anything?” Harry felt like he was missing something obvious. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”
Snape made an impatient noise. But instead of the words Harry had expected to hear inside his head, he was shown a memory. No. Not a memory. A fantasy.
The edges of the fantasy were blurred, but the fantasy itself was clear. Two dark-haired men lay entwined on Harry’s bed much like the morning Harry had woken up, but this time Harry could instinctively tell that neither figure was clothed. Harry was stunned when he saw one of the men Harry quickly recognized to be Severus gently brush away a lock of the other’s unruly mop of hair to kiss the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.
Harry swallowed thickly as his fantasy self moved closer to Snape, his face uplifted as he pressed a kiss to the older wizard’s lips.
Harry gasped as the fantasy stopped midway. Severus was staring at him with an expression Harry had never seen before. It was fear, he was startled to realize. Harry suddenly understood.
“You love me.”
Twin spots of color rose to Snape’s cheeks. Harry stared at the uncomfortably self-conscious looking wizard – he wasn’t what Harry would have considered handsome before, but Harry realized it was more than looks that drew him to Severus, again and again. He still had the greasy hair and the beaky nose, but somehow Harry found himself wanting to find out what it would be like to kiss him.
‘I’ve made a fool of myself.’ Snape’s voice startled Harry. ‘I know how I look. I know you’d never think of me like that.’ The bitterness had turned to a snarl and Harry felt a pang of sorrow.
“No, you’re wrong.” Harry knew if he didn’t say something now, he’d never be able to. “I know how you look. I—I have to admit you make me feel a bit foolish too. Dunderheaded and all that.” Harry smiled, but Severus’s face was still a stony mask. “I’ve only ever kissed, you know. I’ve never… never been like that with anyone.” Harry could see the incredulous look on Snape’s face. “But…”
Harry gulped. Ron would probably be furious with him and so would Ginny for that matter. Hermione had said Ron would come around before she left and oddly enough Harry believed her. Harry closed his eyes, shutting off any legilimency the ex-headmaster may have been performing and forced himself to speak. “I think. I think I mightliketotrythat. With you.”
There was a long pause followed by a rough “What?”
“I think I might like to do that.” Harry forced his nerves down, careful not to rush his words again. “Kiss you. And more. Maybe. I don’t know.” Harry could feel his face heating up. The room suddenly felt too hot and too small.
Long-fingered hands grasped Harry’s arms and Harry instinctively looked up. Severus closed his eyes and lowered his face. Their noses bumped at first, but with some angling they finally got it. Harry could feel warmth rushing through him, a comfortable heat coiling from his chest to his belly. Distantly, he could hear a muffled moan and wondered if it was his own.
Severus moved away, staring piercingly at Harry as if expecting the kiss to change Harry’s mind.
“Still?” Snape rasped.
“Yes.” Harry said breathlessly. And he knew with absolute certainty that what he’d said was the truth. He wanted that and more.
‘I’m difficult.’ Snape spoke in Harry’s head. ‘Your friends won’t like me.’
“I know.” Harry said as he pulled down Severus for another kiss. “We’ll work through it.”